#not good night i drafted this at like midnight few days back but meant to post it much earlier today but uh here we are!!

[ohmytyong]

mark me in your heart [teaser]

PAIRING: drug dealer!mark x bartender!reader

GENRE: angst, smut, kinda friends with benefits au, bartender!renjun, best friend!renjun, action au

TEASER WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, explicit scene of drug use, use of pet names

WC: tba (TEASER WC: 1,2k)

‣[PLAYLIST]: 505 by arctic monkeys, bad omens by 5 seconds of summer, slow down by chase atlantic, why do you only call me when you're high? by arctic monkeys, a little death by the neighborhood, okay by chase atlantic

SUMMARY: when a sensitive and broken heart meets another one of the same nature, their instinctive reaction is to seek comfort in each other, and in order to heal themselves, they both need to be equally strong and willing to put all their broken pieces back together. but sometimes, some hearts aren't strong enough to be saved; the only way to save them is if the stronger heart of the two is willing to take the risk and try for the both of them, whatever it takes.

A/N: i forgot how long i've had this idea sitting in my drafts. i think it's time it saw the light of day and i think it's better if i share this with you

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“Hey Renjun, pass me that glass” you said as you wiped the thick tall glass completely dry before you put it back on the shelf behind you. You were moving mechanically at this point, the exhaustion of the long night at the bar taking over your entire body. It was 5 in the morning and you had just barely managed to kick out some of the remaining drunk nobodies who were so wasted, that their toxic-infused brains couldn’t even give them the signals to move their own bodies.

Working at the bar wasn’t your dream job but it’s not as if you had a better choice. It was either a bartender or a stripper. Both of them sounded equally bad, so you decided to opt for the slightly better one. If you could even say it like that.

It wasn’t a particularly ideal job but it was enough to get you by. It earned you enough money to buy you food and pay the rent at the motel you were staying at, it got you as many free drinks as you needed to help your mind escape from all your worries and you also got to meet some relatively cool people, so that was somewhat good. The working hours weren’t such a big of an issue either, you couldn’t really sleep anyway. So you were fine with it.

Most nights, the bar usually closed at around 3 am. There wasn’t a set rule on this; it usually depended on how many customers there were and how much they were drinking. Your boss had suggested that you shouldn't keep the bar open all night long, so you kinda decided that it was best to close a few hours after midnight. You weren’t complaining about this though; the sooner it closed, the more time you’d have to get high with your co-worker Renjun at the alleyway behind the bar.

Unfortunately, tonight luck wasn’t on your side, as a group of friends kept on drinking more and more as the hours passed by, which meant that you and Renjun had to keep the bar open until later. You weren’t opposed to this idea, it only meant that you would earn a little bit more money. It was Renjun who started complaining, so he decided to take action into his own hands and practically dragged the drunks out of the bar.

This is how you ended up cleaning up the place this late, rather this early in the morning, with your co-worker. The two of you were too tired to speak, so neither of you made any efforts to spark up a conversation. You both just attended to your respective tasks, waiting for a specific somebody to show up.

Luck surely wasn’t on your side tonight. He would usually show up at around 3:30 am, right after the bar closed, and he would have all the stuff ready, just at the exact moment you needed it. Why was he late today?

It didn’t take a genius to understand that Renjun was clearly affected by the lack of the stuff. He moved around the place nervously, tugging at his hair and stomping his foot rhythmically. He was in a desperate need of it, and you would honestly lie to yourself if you said you didn’t need it half as much as Renjun did.

You put the last clean glass on the shelf behind you and went over to the storage room to grab a broom, so that you could clean the floor a bit while Renjun was still wiping the bar counters. As soon as you closed the door of the storage room, the little bell that hung above the bar’s front door rang with a tinkle and soon after it followed the sound of the so familiar footsteps you were waiting for all night.

“Hey kids, Santa’s here,” his voice resonated in the empty room as he waved a small transparent plastic bag that looked white because of its content. Renjun threw the handkerchief he was holding to the other side of the counter and dramatically jumped over it to go and hug the male who just entered. All of that just at the sight of the clear plastic bag with the snowy content.

“Mark, what took you so long my guy, I’m literally a dead man walking! Give this beauty to me,” Renjun exclaimed and snatched the plastic bag straight out of Mark’s hand. Mark smirked at what Renjun said and immediately started grinning at the sight of the boy’s eagerness.

Renjun went to sit on the bar stool closer to him and placed the bag on top of the counter he had just wiped clean. With slender fingers, he opened the plastic bag and dredged some of the content on the counter. With nervousness in his movements, he set the bag aside and shuffled through his back pocket to find his ID card. He started scattering the white dust all over the counter before he gathered all of it in a straight line with the help of his ID card. When he was satisfied with the result, he put his ID card back into his pocket, lowered his head to the level that his nose touched the cold surface of the counter, took a deep breath and snorted the entire line of crack, the product going straight up into his nostrils.

Renjun blinked several times before he slowly lifted his head. He scrunched his nose and wiped it with the back of his hand, his drowsy eyes looking surprisingly bright considering his state. “Man, whoever hasn’t done crack, never, they haven’t known the beauty of life yet” he chuckled. Mark smirked at Renjun’s comment and you couldn’t help but shake your head amusingly, a small smile creeping up at your face.

Renjun took the plastic bag with the rest of the cocaine and put it in his pocket. “This baby’s for me, thank you,” he amused and turned his heel towards the storage room. “Don’t come look for me, I’ll be right here. If I take too long to come out, then you should be concerned,” he said and closed the storage room door behind him; a scene that was surprisingly quite familiar to you.

You then set the broom down and walked towards Mark. “Hey” you whispered and Mark greeted you back in a low husky voice. “What took you so long? We were expecting you to come earlier” you asked him.

Mark shrugged and leaned his elbow against the counter. “I came by at our usual meeting hour and saw that you guys were still open. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me so I decided to drop by later,” he said and you nodded in understanding.

“You do have more of those plastic bags on you, don’t you?” you asked him and he chuckled. “Of course I do, pretty. Let’s go outside and treat ourselves a bit, shall we?” he suggested and you nodded again, walking beside him towards the alleyway behind the bar.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie

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[midnightstargazer]

Fic Author Self Rec

When you get this, reply with your 5 favourite fics that you've written. Then pass it on to five other writers. Spread some self love.

Tagged by @celestemagnoliathewriter

1. A Little Bird Told Me

A canon divergence AU where Regulus never found out about the locket and, as a result, never betrayed Voldemort. Fast forward to 1995, the Dark Mark starts burning again - but by this point, he's perfectly happy living the "I swear I was Imperiused" life and really would rather not have Voldemort back, thank you very much.

This is probably the most intense experience I've ever had writing a fic. I had never done a fest before, but the prompt this fic was based on immediately grabbed me and refused to let go. It demanded to exist. It demanded that I write it. I stayed up late at night finishing just one more scene, typed lines of dialogue into email drafts from my phone, and had epiphanies about it at the most inconvenient of times. It wasn't meant to end up anywhere near as long as it did, but I'm super proud of the result.

Excerpt:

Okay, he had to admit it: a part of him had missed this. Not the murders or the screams of innocents, but the thrill of danger, the back-and-forth of spells, matching wits and magical power against an opponent worthy of the effort. Maybe, in another life, he could've made a career in competitive dueling. In this life - well, this life was about to be over if he wasn't careful. The dance of spells and shield charms had taken them dangerously close to the veil, and Rookwood's warning echoed in his memory as he glanced at its looming shadow. It hung over him hungrily, as though waiting for him to venture too close - or for one of his spells to knock somebody else too close.

2. They Said the End Is Coming

I adore Tedromeda, but I haven't actually had the chance to write much with them as the main focus yet. This fic imagines them a few years into their marriage, raising their daughter together, working hard to make ends meet, and navigating what role they are willing to play in the war against Voldemort. Plus a few customer service related headaches along the way. The title and the fic's inspiration come from the Taylor Swift song "Sweet Nothing."

Excerpt:

The world as they knew it was on the brink of ending, but when Andromeda arrived home, the house was warm and bright, the scent of something delicious filling the air and a faint musical sound coming from the kitchen. There, just inside, Nymphadora sat at the table with a coloring book while Ted stood by the stove, stirring a pot full of chicken soup and humming Celestina Warbeck’s song “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love” under his breath. It wasn’t so much that Andromeda intentionally let her guard down; it was more that every wall she put up during the day, every scheme and backup plan, every suspicious thought, vanished into thin air at the sight of him.

3. Midnight Rain

My basic starting point for this fic was "What's the angstiest, most heartbreaking idea I can come up with?" So, in a storyline inspired by the Taylor Swift song "Midnight Rain," Emmeline Vance and Alice not-yet-Longbottom fall in love towards the end of their time at Hogwarts. While they both have big dreams, Emmeline is very goal-focused, while Alice has a much more balanced approach to life. As you might be able to guess, it doesn't work out - and takes a very tragic, canon-compliant turn. This fic was absolutely agonizing to write. In a good way.

Excerpt:

Alice was like nobody else Emmeline had ever met. With golden hair and bright, warm smiles, dressed in robes of Hufflepuff yellow, it was hardly an exaggeration to compare her to the sun. Maybe that was why Emmeline found it so hard to look in her direction, so hard to meet her gaze without blushing and turning away. Alice was made of pure sunshine, but Emmeline was something cold and dark, like raindrops on the surface of the lake at midnight, echoes of thunder and flashes of lightning rattling the depths of the castle long after she ought to be asleep.

4. Wit Beyond Measure

This one is about Helena Ravenclaw, both during her lifetime and her afterlife as a ghost. I really enjoyed getting to dig into my founders era headcanons and imagine the woman who the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower might have been. And the ghost she might have been in the centuries that came in between her death and her interaction with Harry. I'm especially fond of what I ended up doing with Helga Hufflepuff and how Helena's perspective on her and her House changes over time.

Excerpt:

If there was one thing Helena could change about Ravenclaw, it would be the entrance to the common room. Centuries later, children who had left their Quidditch gear inside would groan, demanding to know whose clever idea it had been, and she would smile and shake her head. “My mother’s, of course.” That made it far worse, as far as she was concerned. If it had been some silly Head of House’s idea long after the founders’ time, she would not have had to put up with it herself in the days when a locked door could still keep her out. Sixteen-year-old Helena would not have been banging on the door in the middle of the night, hoping for someone inside to let her in, because she had fifteen minutes to grab her telescope before she was due at the Astronomy Tower for class. “Feed me and I grow. Give me water and I die. What am I?” “I don’t bloody know!” Helena groaned. “Just let me in. My mother’s going to kill me if I’m late.”

5. Toujours Vivant

Regulus survives the cave, then goes to Dumbledore to change sides and ask for protection. His motives are initially rather selfish and his attitude still very prejudiced, but as time goes on, he interacts with people who challenge his views and slowly develops into a better person.

I feel weird including this on a self rec list, because it is by far my most popular fic. It doesn't need any help attracting attention. But it was the idea I just couldn't get out of my head that got me back into fic writing after years of being like, "oh, I'm an adult now, I don't do that anymore." So it has a very special place in my heart for that.

Excerpt:

He fell silent under Dumbledore’s scrutinizing gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he had said the wrong thing. Perhaps the older man thought he was finally showing his true colors in some sort of sneaky plot to infiltrate the Order, gain their leader’s trust, and bring them down from the inside with poorly-brewed potions or something. “You truly wish to become more involved?” asked Dumbledore. “I do.” “May I ask why?” Well, Regulus certainly wasn’t going to tell the truth, was he? Thank goodness the veritaserum incident had happened only once, because “I’d like to avoid outliving my usefulness” was definitely not the right answer. “I’d like to see this war end soon,” he told Dumbledore instead. “And I’ve already thrown my lot in with your side. Is it so surprising that I’d want to do my part to make sure you’re the ones who win?" Dumbledore’s smile returned. “You can say ‘our side,’ you know,” he said gently. “Our side, then,” Regulus repeated, the words feeling awkward and foreign on his tongue.

I've seen this going around a lot on my dash, and I'm not sure who's already done it, so let's make this easy. If you're seeing this and you want to do it - tag, you're it! 😉

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[onyxheartbeat]

Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,

this is a long post but I must discuss this.

________

I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:

________

“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs.  Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by  an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”

_________

Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville. 

I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.

I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.

Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic. 

I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.

You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.

[nyx-aira]

Tear Stains On Asgardian Leather

Requested by anon

Request: Absolutely no pressure, but you know I'm a sucker for anything with Loki - especially maybe an Asgardian reader, who's also going through a bit of a depression and recovering from emotional abuse? If that's too heavy/complicated, I totally understand, but it'd be lovely to have Loki as my therapist. Fluff has definitely helped in the past.

Summary: After Ragnarok everyone tries to deal with the horrible events that happened. Some better and some worse.

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't written much the last few weeks. I've been feeling drained and empty and tried to take some time for myself. This is a draft I found from November and I have a couple more but I'm currently not really able to write all of your requests. I might post some short fics or songfics I wrote to help me cope if you're interested in that. Things have been complicated and I'm trying to get back on track. Good thing though, if anyone is interested, I finally shifted!

TW! Mentioned abuse, trauma, breakdowns

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

Things were difficult at the moment. Asgard was gone and so were many other people, you were free but it didn't feel like it.

You weren't sure what to feel, what to do. Nothing was how it was but you weren't sure why a part of you still clung to that old life, that life you wanted to escape so badly.

New Asgard was different. None of the glamour and luxury, nothing more than a small village somewhere in Norway.

Thor, Loki and Valkyrie were doing their best to make the best out of the new situation but it was a difficult task.

It took some time getting used to living elsewhere for everyone but you couldn't care less about getting a new start or recovering from the traumatic events that happened.

You just wanted everything to go away and at the same time clung desperately to the few happy memories you had of Asgard. People noticed of course but they didn't know what to do so everyone just gave you space and left you alone. Everyone but Loki.

He would check in with you as often as he could, he still had to coordinate most of New Asgard and all the troubles that came with it. He would usually show up at the end of the day with some take-out and would tell you about his day, listening to yours if you wanted to tell him and always offering his support and help if you needed it.

At first you weren't sure why he was doing it, why he wanted to help but over time you began to trust him more and more, forming a bond that was based on trust, honesty and care.

His presence would make you feel at ease and some days you would manage to tell him bits and pieces of what was going on. He would listen very carefully and try to help you as best as he could.

Sometimes after you had cried and clung to his shoulders while he had held you, he would carry you to bed and would make sure you had beautiful dreams that night, staying with you until you fell asleep. In the mornings there would be breakfast waiting for you with a small note attached.

Those small gestures meant a lot to you and after some time you would get better. Sure there were still days where everything seemed hopeless and you wanted nothing more then to cry and just stay in bed.

But Loki was there, every step of the way and he would make sure you knew that as well.

-----

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @sokovianheadtilt @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @official-clint-barton @wlwlovesreading @wandaswifeyforlifey @multifandomfix

[hockeywhhores]

just friends?- m. tkachuk

Matthew Tkachuk x f!Reader

summary~ Matthew is your best friend, but you both want to be more. 

warnings~ friends to lovers, swearing, alcohol consumption, fight, implied sex 

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some angst 

word count~ 3.3K 

masterlist

Growing up next in the house next to the Tkacuk’s meant there were never any dull moments. You have been playing with Matthew, Brady, and Taryn since you could talk. Matthew was the one who taught you how to ice skate, Brady taught you how to understand American football, and you ended up teaching Taryn how to put on makeup.

Matthew was even there when your first date had stood you up. When he came you were so embarrassed about being stood up and wanted to leave, but he made you stay and ‘fixed’ your date. Really he just bought you some dinner, and then you guys went back to his house and watched a movie with his siblings. At night when you started overthinking about why your date had stood you up; he held you in his arms, and let you cry on his shoulder. Matthew made sure you knew it wasn’t because you were ugly, which you insisted that it was, by telling you how beautiful you looked. You wrote him off, because that’s what your best friend is supposed to say.

When Matthew was drafted, he insisted that you applied to colleges in Calgary. Just to ease his mind you applied to all different colleges around Calgary, and even got in. Matthew offered to share his apartment, but you decided to live in the dorms. You both knew that wasn’t really going to happen, and were right. You spent more time in his apartment than in your dorm. Your toothbrush was in his bathroom and your shampoo and conditioner were in his shower. You slept in the guest room, and whenever his family came to Canada you slept in his bed, with him. His parents would take the guest room.

You were just friends. You were reminded of that when girls would flirt with him in bars, and he would let them. You always pushed away every jealous thought. Matthew wasn’t yours, so that makes whoever is flirting with him not your problem. The team had no problem making little chirps at the two of you being in love, but at least they only did so when you were alone. Some random guy ended up on the stool next to you. He ordered a beer and started watching one of the TVs. “Come here often?” He asked you, as he looked back towards you.

“Do you ask every girl that?” you questioned him with a small chuckle.

“Only the pretty one’s,” He smirked at you, “My name’s Asher.” he said, extending his hand.

“y/n” you smiled at him and shook his hand. As corny as his introduction was, you couldn’t help but think he was cute. His blue eyes stood out, they weren’t like Matthew’s ,light blue eyes, they are a deep blue. His ashy brunette hair looked super soft, and fell slightly across his forehead. Asher looked tired, but interested in you.

“Well what do you do, Miss. y/n?” he asked you, his voice sounding deep.

“I’m a college student by day, and a mysterious girl that hangs out in bars by night.” You say so casually, wanting to mess with him a little bit. Purposely not telling him you were here with the few Flames’ players that were around.

“Well I think you're doing great at being the mysterious girl that hangs out in bars very well.” Asher's voice was smooth like honey. “I’m an editor for CalgarySun.” you could listen to him talk for hours.

“Wow, and I caught your eye?” you playfully asked him.

“How could you not have?” He asked you sounding serious. “Do you want another drink?” he noticed your drink was getting low.

“If you don’t mind. I would love another drink.” you smiled. You felt like an idiot with all the smiling you were doing. Asher ended up buying you two more drinks before you got a text that Matthew ordered himself an Uber and you could share with him if you wanted to. Deciding to save the money, and take a ride with him. You said goodbye to your new friend, Asher. Numbers were exchanged and with that you left.

When you got outside you found Matthew walking the girl to her Uber, but he didn’t get in with her. The girl’s Uber left with her in it, and Matthew turned around to find you watching him. He gestures for you to come stand by him, and you did.

“Why didn’t you go with her?” You were the first one to speak.

“She obviously only liked me, because she recognized me. Fucking groupie was what she was.” You heard the frustration in his voice. It struck you as odd, about how he never took girls back to his apartment. You always told him you would go back to your dorms for the night, but he refused. Those moments made you feel bad for being there all the time.

A red car pulled up to the curb, and Matthew seemed to recognize it. You heard the driver ask if he was Matthew, and when he got a ‘yes’, he unlocked the doors. Matthew opened the door for you, and you slightly crawled inside the backseat. Thankfully you were wearing jeans, so you didn’t flash anyone. The ride back was just like any other. Matthew and you would talk about little things, and when it got quiet you listened to the radio that was lightly playing in the background. It only got quiet in between new topics. But like a blink of an eye the ride was over, and you were in front of his apartment.

Matthew opened the door for you, and you both went your separate ways. You went to the bathroom to take off your makeup and he went to his bedroom to change his clothes. After you were both done you switched, and he went to the bathroom while you changed. Walking into the room you now occupy in his apartment, the first thing you noticed was the mess you had made while getting ready for a night out. You signed and started straightening up before you gave up, and just put on your pajamas, which was an old shirt Matthew gave to you and some sweatpants. You heard the TV turn on and knew Matthew wasn’t going to be going to bed anytimes soon. You decided to join him.

Matthew was watching some Avengers movie, and you just signed and laid on the couch. He let you put your legs on top of his; letting you lay down on the couch. You phone vibrated on the coffee table. The light makes it hard to ignore. It went off again, so you just got up to answer it. You smiled when you noticed that Asher had texted you. Matthew tried to pay you no mind, and continued to watch the movie he picked out, but he couldn’t stop thinking about who would be texting you at midnight on a Saturday.

Matthew knew he should make his feelings known, but there was so much going against how could you two ever work out? He got labeled a borderline dirty player, a fuckboy, and was told he didn’t know how to manage his anger, and he was okay with it. He didn’t let it bother him. But if he ever lost you, because of his stupid feelings, he would never forgive himself. You were too precious to lose, and he could never risk it, so he hid his feelings.

After the movie was over Matthew looked over and saw that you had fallen asleep with your phone next to you. He gently moved your legs, trying his hardest to not wake you up. When he successfully got up, without disturbing you, he picked you up and carried you bridal style. He quietly tucked you into your bed, and went back to the living room to grab your phone. All he was going to do was plug it in for you, but couldn't help himself when he saw that some guy named Asher had been the one texting you. Matthew felt jealous boil up inside him, but he just plugged your phone in and left. You weren’t his, and oh how he wanted that to change.

Both of you didn’t wake up until late into the afternoon, and by that time lunch was more socially acceptable than breakfast. Matthew ordered some chinese take out, to help with both your hangovers. They weren’t bad, but Chinese take could cure anything. You came out looking a slight mess, but Matthew thought you gorgeous anyway. Your hair was all knotted, your clothes were wrinkled, and you had no makeup on. If Matthew was being honest he would pick this version of you over any supermodel that DMed him.

“Good mornin’.”your raspy, just-woke-up voice rang out across the apartment. You smiled at him, and looked confused when he did answer you. All he could think of was, who was ‘Asher’ and why was he texting you last night?

“Morning. I ordered some take out.” Matthew said back to you when he came to his sinuses.

“You are my savior!” you giggled out. Before things could get too awkward there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably it right now.” he stated as he walked to the door. It was in fact the food, and you went to grab some silverware, and plates to help out. You also made both of you water bottles. You heard Matthew say a quick ‘thank you’ before the door closed, and he held up the big paper bag of food out as a way of showing you. You giggled and took the silverware, plates, and water bottles to the coffee table. Matthew followed behind you with the food.  

“When is your next game?” you questioned him. You needed to know what night you weren’t really going to be sleeping.

“Tomorrow, we get to stay home for the next four game, I think.” Matthew got out between taking bites of the noodles he put on his plate. “What do you want to watch?” he questioned you back.

“Umm...want to watch ‘The Good Doctor’?” you threw out between your bites of chicken.

“Sounds good to me.” he smiled at you. You knew liking your best friend was cliche, but if you pretended there wasn’t anything there; there was nothing there, right?

After eating and watching hulu, you decided it would be a good idea to get some of the homework you didn’t want to actually do, done. Matthew kepting talking to you while you sat at the really dining room table, that you never actually used, typing away on your laptop. Then he would go back and continue on doing whatever he was doing. While he was sitting on the couch in the living room, you got a great view of his face. You looked at him, you mean you really looked at him. Your heart started beating a little bit faster and your cheeks got hot. When he smiled at his show, you felt yourself wanting to smile. You never realized how domesticated this really was. You never realized how you could live with him, like this, forever. You just noticed how much you were going to miss his soft singing when he was in the shower, and his little mannerisms that made your heart beat faster. How he held every door he could open for you.

You thought back to when you were stood up. You thought about how he wouldn't let you go home. How he made you stay so he could give you a ‘proper date’. How he insisted that it wasn’t because you were ugly, and you were actually the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he just say that because that was what best friends said? Did he feel the same feelings towards the other, like you did?  No. There was no way he felt the same.

The lazy day ended and you both had to go back to your normal lives. Monday was upon you, and Matthew had a game, and you had class. You were dressed in black jeans, and a flames crewneck tha Matthew gave you to wear around Calgary so people knew you were on the right side of the ‘Battle of Alberta’. Matthew was gone before you had your coffee made. You saw the note he left stating that he was going to go do some laps, and hang out with the team. After your coffee was done you locked up his apartment, and left for class.

Class was boring, but you and Matthew texted so that made things better. Your plans for the night are to now attend his game, that was getting played against the Canucks. No complaints were going to be heard from you. You loved going to watch his games.

The night came quicker than expected, and you were rushing around his apartment trying to find your jersey, that of course had his last name on it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Looking at your watch you decided that if you didn’t leave now then you were never going to make it before puck drop. Last minute decision was made, and you just grabbed one of the many jerseys he had in his closet. The jersey was several sizes too big, but you didn’t mind.

Luck was on your side, because you were somehow able to make it to your seat in time before the game started. You only have to wait a minute before the lineup is being called. Matthew looked to where you always sat, with most of the wags, and smiled bigger when he saw you sitting there in his jersey. You smiled and gave him a slight wave. The game was brutal to say the least. Whenever the Flames were able to score, the Canucks scored right after them. Nevermind all the chirping going on between the two teams, especially Matthew and Jake Virtanen. They were going after each other, and no one was able to keep them apart long enough. You thought everything was going to blow over, but then the gloves were dropped. You stood up in shock, and you were also trying to get a better view. Whenever Matthew got in fights your blood ran cold, and your hands got sweaty.

The referees got everything sorted out, and they both got pentilites. The game stayed close, 3-3, and it was now going into overtime. You could tell how frustrated Matthew was. Overtime came and went, and then shootout time was up. After two misses, it was Matthew’s turn. Your hands got even more sweaty. Then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it type of moment, Matthew scored for the Flames. You had to sit through the Canucks last shot, but thankfully Markstrom gloved it before it could go in. You could feel the energy that was put back into Saddledome.

As everyone leaves the stadium you stay in your seat, waiting for everything to clear out a little bit. When it looked clear enough you headed to the hallway where most of the wags were already there. You kept to yourself, and quietly waited for Matthew. When the team came out everyone was congratulating them. When Matthew saw you we went straight to you. You saw him a second before he was in front of you, and jumped forward engulfing Matthew in the biggest hug.

“Oh my god. You were amazing.” You smiled, so wide your cheeks hut, but he was smiling just as big. He was holding you from under your thighs, and you had your arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you being here.” Matthew whispered in your ear. Neither of you want to let go, but you knew the guys wanted to go celebrate at some bar. So you pulled back, and you swear you saw Matthew frown, as he put you back on the ground.

Apparently the bar everyone wanted to go to was, where you went not even three days ago. Matthew bought you a shot, and you did one with him. Then he bought you one of your regular drinks. That was when you saw Asher sitting on one of the bar stools drinking a beer.

“We have got to stop meeting at this bar.” You stated when you were close enough he would be able to hear you.

“I am not going to disagree with you.” Asher tipped his beer at you and you slightly tripped your drink back at him. “Did you come in with the hockey team?” he questioned you sounding disgusted.

“Yeah. I did. Is that a problem?” you softly asked him

“I bet you’re just some groupie, who likes men that have money and a title.” He accused you. His words were slurred, and you knew he was drunk.

“What did you just say to her?” Matthew angrily spit out. ‘Oh shit’ was the only thing going through your head.

“Oh you both heard me. I saw her get into an Uber with your Saturday night. Right after she was done flirting with me and using me for drinks.” Asher spit out just as angrily but way more intoxicated.

“Both of you stop it!” you yelled out, “Well fuck. Matthew meet Asher, Asher meet Matthew, my friend.” you tried to get everything to settle down, but after you called Matthew your friend, you saw him get even more angry, if that was even possible.

“I don’t care what your relationship is to him. Why the hell did you leave flirting with a guy to get in some other guy’s Uber.” Asher was trying to dominate over you by standing tall and looking down at you. You hated this. You wish you and Matthew just went home instead of go to this stupid bar.

“Back the fuck up, Buddy.” Matthew spits out, “y/n come on. We are going home.” Matthew grabbed your arm and dragged you to his car. It wasn’t really a drag as you were willingly leaving with him, he was just holding your arm.

The car ride was completely silent, the radio not even playing, and no one wanted to speak. When you got back to his apartment was when all hell broke loose.

“So that was Asher? What an outstanding guy.” Matthew was enraged and couldn’t help with throwing out that comment.

“How the hell did you know about Asher?” you asked confused.

“I saw your phone, when I plugged it in for you, and made sure you were tucked into bed. Like a friend would do.” Matthew wrinkled his nose at you.

“Why do you care about the guys I’m texting! You can literally get any girl you want!” you protested.

“I care because I love you! Have you ever seen me take any of those girls back here? No, that's because I was trying to show you I’m not some asshole. I love you dammit.” Matthew professed everything in that one response. Everything was said, and neither of you could take it back. The pause that followed put both of you on edge.

“I love you too.” you whispered out. “I only want to be next to you, and when I’m in class I can’t wait to see you when we grab lunch together or when you hold my legs in your lap when we are watching movies. I love you. I love you so much.” your eyes were watering with all of the emotions coming out of you.  Matthew ran up and pulled up into his arms, holding you like he was at the stadium. Then he leaned in and kissed you. It felt like time stopped, everything was still, except for you and him. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

You woke up for the first time in his bed with no clothes on. Matthew was already up and was watching. His grip was firm like if he let you go, he would never see you again. Nothing felt better at that moment.

finished.

[troubatrain]

new year’s day - m.tkachuk

a/n: i wasn’t going to write a part two to tis the damn season, but i couldn’t help but feel like new year’s day was an excellent excuse to write one so here we are. i started this blog about a year ago sometime after new year’s and it’s been a little crazy but you guys are honestly awesome. i just wanted to thank you for constantly supporting my fics and chaotic ways i write and all of the people who i get to idea dump with. thank you & have a happy and safe new year’s!

Life was sweet.

Matthew had been blissed out since the moment you both arrived back in Calgary, like the last piece of his life had fallen back into place. You were the kind of peace he needed, someone who anchored him down before his ego got the best of him, and someone who could see past all of the bullshit to begin with. Matthew knew a storm was on the horizon, the talk about what any of this means after you left to go back to St. Louis. Matthew fucked up the first time, because he a dumb kid who wasn’t ready for anything life was about to throw at him. He got scared, all of the new pressure in his life got real and he ran away from the only thing that comforted him.

For the moment, none of that mattered. What was important to him right now was watching you laugh with a few of his teammates in a dress Matthew intended on taking off later.  A laugh he could have recognized anywhere. It was New Year’s Eve, and Matthew was hosting, something he never thought would happen. His teammates thought he was kidding when he asked if they wanted to go to his place for a New Year’s Party, but he was being serious. You outdid yourself, telling Matthew he couldn’t possibly have a party with any sort of decorations.

“You look good with a girlfriend Chucky,” Matthew’s stare was broken but Mark’s voice behind him. A hand lands on his back of his neck to cover the blush. You made him better, that’d been clear from the moment you walked in your freshman English and sat next to Matthew. He had a perfect grade in that class, because he spent a year trying to impress you before he finally just asked you.

“Trying not to fuck it up this time,” Matthew admits sheepishly, because he was so nervous about losing you again, “She’s always been it for me, but I can’t just ask her to stay here-”

“You don’t have to, just let her know she’s part of your plan,” Mark suggests, and it makes sense to Matthew. When you dated the first time, he had all these plans. His plan for where he’d go before he got drafted, his plan to play his first year, and none of them ever included you. Well they did, but Matthew wasn’t about to tell you he wanted to marry you at seventeen. You deserved to know that when he thought about his future, it was with you. 

It was here. It was watching you joke with Johnny and Sam like you’d known them for years. It was the first game you went to after you landed and Matthew got to skate out for warm ups and see you against the glass. It was the other morning when he caught you peeking out the windows of his condo while snow was falling, your eyes sparkling at the site. Matthew couldn’t think of anything else he wanted for the rest of his life besides you.

Matthew excuses himself from the conversation, catching a glimpse at the time. It was five minutes to midnight, a New Year was about to ring in and he got to spend it with you. He sneaks behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling into him, “Hi.”

“Matty,” You squirm, giggling while Matthew tickled at your sides. He didn’t care who heard you call him Matty because it was you. You look up at him, a smile on your face while you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Matthew scoffs, pointing to his lips, “At midnight bubs.”

“Yeah bubs,” Sam teases, Matthew lifting up his middle finger. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“Just admit you’re a big baby Matthew, it’ll save us some time,” You smirk, Sam breaking out in laughter. Matthew was a big baby, constantly whining when he couldn’t pull you close in bed or pouting his way through something he didn’t want to do, “Now countdown to midnight with us…”

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

A chorus of cheers and New Year’s wishes filled Matthew’s place, but all of that was static with your lips pressed against his. His hand was splayed across your back, the bare skin peeking out of your dress was on fire from his touch alone. His other hand was tilting your chin up, holding you close to him.

“Happy New Year baby,” Matthew mutters, another quick kiss to your lips before he pulls away. Your eyes fluttered open, snapping back into reality.

By the time it was two in the morning, Matthew had managed to push his party guests out and his next task was you. You were spinning around his bedroom, and Matthew was waiting for you to trip over your own heels every second. You finally flop down on his bed, kicking your feet out, “Please?”

Matthew sighs, pausing from unbuttoning his own dress shirt and sitting next to you on the bed. He unbuckles your heels, “Have fun tonight?”

“I like it here,” You whisper, as if you’d been afraid to admit it. You snuggle into the bed, your eyelids getting heavier by the minute, “Because you’re here.”

“I like it here more when you’re here too pretty girl,” Matthew grins, his eyes soft when he looks down at you, “You need to get out of this dress.”

“Get me out of it,” You smirk, picking your head and giving Matthew a wink. If you weren’t five tequila shots deep he probably would have, but he knew you were far too drunk for that. He chuckles, shaking his head and tossing you one of his shirts and walking into the bathroom. He finally got back into his room, your head on his pillow while you waited for him.

He finally jumps into bed, throwing an arm over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Goodnight.”

“Matty?” You call out, whispering before he falls asleep on you. He hums, waiting for you to speak, “Don’t give up on me this time.”

And Matthew could have sworn he felt his heart break.

***

You woke up with a massive headache, only getting worse by Matthew’s snoring in your ear. The past week had been nothing short of perfect, Matthew pulling out all the stops to prove he really did want you back. You roll over in his arms, tracing the side of his face, he wasn’t going to wake up. Matthew hadn’t changed, and that meant he still slept like a rock. Your fingers moved along the stubble across his chin, a new addition with change you were starting to love.

You finally got out of bed, tossing on whatever hoodie Matthew had closest to the bed and padding down the hallway to turn up the heat. Calgary was cold, a bitter kind you were in a hate/love relationship with. Most of the love came from why you were here, and the weather was something you just needed to deal with. You walk through the living room, plastic cups from the night before were covering the place. Confetti and polaroid's thrown across the coffee table with intentions for them to be a problem for another time. You pick one up, of you sitting on Matthew’s lap. You were looking at the camera, a wide smile on your face while Matthew was just looking at you.

“I want that one,” Matthew’s raspy morning voice caused you to jump, his long arm reaching over and holding the picture in his hand, “For here.”

You give Matthew a small smile, watching him run his finger over the picture. He’s quiet for a minute, biting his lip like he’d been debating what to say, “Matty?”

“I see you in my future,” Matthew breathes out, his last and final confession he had to make to both of you, “When I think about all of the things I want, you’re always there.”

“What if it happens again?” You whisper, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. The very real fear of this imploding on the two of you scared you like no other. You had to put those pieces back together alone, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared to do it again, “What if this is too much and-”

“It won’t be, I’m ready this time,” Matthew assures you, “I was ready then too, but I didn’t think you’d be. I had to give you up because you deserved better than following me around while I got myself settled. I am, I’m here and I’m ready for this.”

Matthew’s voice was raw, pleading with you that he was telling you the honest to god truth, “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’d rather do hard with you than easy with someone else Y/N,” Matthew smiles, his dimples poking out.

“Matthew I swear if you break my heart again,” You threaten, poking your finger into his chest, “I will let your brother kick the shit out of you.”

Matthew chuckles pressing kisses all over your face, the sound of your laugh flooding his place. You spent the rest of New Year’s cleaning the condo, picking up the empty champagne bottles left from the night before and spending the day on the couch before your flight left.

***

What Matthew didn’t know then, was that it would work. Long distance was rough, but you’d both made enormous sacrifices for each other. It took planes, trains, cars and a whole of patience, but by the time the next year rolled around- things still seemed to work. You walked through the lobby of Matthew’s place in Calgary, your suitcase felt heavier than it had been on any of your previous trips. You had a late Christmas present for him, one that if you didn’t give him in person it wasn’t going to be the same.

“You’re here!” Matthew hops off the couch when you let yourself in, he grabs your waist picking you up and spinning you around. Matthew presses a kiss to your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you stopped him, “Babeeeee…”

“Quit your whining, I have something for you,” You stop him, opening up your suitcase and pulling out a folder. He furrowed his eyebrows, sliding it open. It was a job offer. One for your dream position. In Calgary.

Matthew was stunned, speechless while his eyes read over the offer four times. It was real and if it meant what his brain thought it did it meant that a year of long distance was about to be so fucking worth it. His finger ran across the paper, looking up at you. You had a grin on your face, happy with yourself for not telling him until this very moment.

“I’m going to take it, if that wasn’t obvious-” You start to explain, but Matthew had scooped you back into his arms before you could finish speaking. His arms were holding you tightly, muttering something into your shoulder, “What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Matthew’s eyes were bulging out his head, and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was lying to you, you just gave him the best news of his life and he’s lying to you.

“Stop lying”, You demand, stepping out his arms, “Do you not want me here?”

“Fuck, no baby I do, I just-” Matthew sighs, running into his arm and rummaging through his drawers. You stood by the door, confused as to what had gotten into your boyfriend.

“I was going to do this tonight, I even flew out our families, because I got you back on New Year’s and,” Matthew steps back into the room, a blue box in his hand in a color you’d be damned if you didn’t recognize, “In all of my life, I’ve only ever known that I was supposed to be with one person, and that was you. You’re my soulmate, and the world has constantly tried to pry us apart but I swear it just made us stronger. We’re the best god damn team in the world Y/N, and I think we’d be even better if you married me?”

Your hand was over your mouth, tears spilling out while Matthew’s soft blue eyes were staring into yours. He was right, you were the best team in the world. You were two people who could look at each other in a crowded room and know what the other was thinking. You were in love, and the few years where you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t always going to be Matthew at the end were just a part of the story. You nod your head, watching Matthew put that ring on your left hand and you couldn’t help but think about the way you’d get to tell your children and grandchildren your most epic love story.

Because after all, you wanted his midnights, and everyday after that.

[coeurdastronaute]

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer. 

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family. 

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other. 

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him. 

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him. 

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her. 

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first. 

“Yes.” 

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family. 

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?” 

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?” 

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.” 

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else. 

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house. 

“I’ll be home around midnight.” 

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.” 

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.” 

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.” 

“I’ve been doing fine.” 

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.” 

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother. 

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.” 

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?” 

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head. 

“I could say the same thing.” 

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again. 

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.” 

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?” 

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance. 

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans. 

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party. 

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped. 

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare. 

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even. 

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared. 

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water. 

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.” 

“How is it different than any other party?” 

“It just is.” 

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.” 

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still. 

“We need to get you home.” 

“Clarke invited me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.” 

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.” 

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?” 

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed. 

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?” 

“You don’t need to know that.” 

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.” 

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness. 

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player. 

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?” 

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?” 

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.” 

“Full ride?” 

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.” 

“No, that’s smart.” 

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex. 

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.” 

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand. 

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.” 

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled. 

“Anya Woods’ sister.” 

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted. 

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.” 

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction. 

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy. 

“I told you I’d stop by.” 

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening. 

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.” 

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words. 

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?” 

“As okay as can be.” 

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all. 

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair. 

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured. 

“Kind of.” 

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.” 

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.” 

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

“You moved on quick, huh?” 

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.” 

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?” 

“Yup,” Clarke nodded. 

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished. 

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it. 

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest. 

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch. 

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.” 

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.” 

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.” 

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned. 

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.” 

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.” 

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.” 

“Why?” 

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.” 

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt. 

“It was stupid.” 

“Do you feel better?” 

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered. 

“I don’t feel better at all.” 

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.” 

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered. 

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.” 

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed. 

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer. 

“I wouldn’t ever.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.” 

“Okay.” 

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

NEXT

[drabbles-mc]

Sometime Around Midnight

Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon:  I have a request (feel free to ignore). I’ve been recently listening to that song “Sometime Around Midnight” by Airborne Toxic Event, and basically I think a fic based around those lyrics would fit ANY Mayan. I’d love to see someone give it a go :)

Warnings: language, angst, alcohol & smoking, EZ being a Sad Boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this request for a little while now. I was trying to figure out which of our boys I wanted to write it for, but then when I started drafting it for EZ this sorta just fell out of me haha. It doesn’t follow the song exactly, but I hope you like it nonetheless! Enjoy some angst for the Boy Scout xo

EZ Taglist: @ly--canthrope​ @noz4a2​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @mayans-sauce​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @amandinesblogofstuff​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my stuff or stuff for specific characters lemme know!)

They had warned you that it was a bad idea to get involved with any of the guys when you started working at the clubhouse as the new bartender. It had been a playful warning, but a very truthful one. And you hadn’t planned on crossing the lines of professionalism. You’d worked as a waitress and a bartender in what felt like a million different places, and you never had an issue when it came to keeping your personal and professional life separate. Don’t get involved with coworkers, and don’t get involved with the regular patrons. Working at the clubhouse meant that the guys from the MC fell into both categories simultaneously. Which you would’ve thought would make it easier to keep yourself from getting involved with any of them.

Yet somehow you found yourself making one little exception after another when it came to Ezekiel. There was just something about him that was hard to say no to. On top of the fact that you could stare at him all day and night without getting bored, there was something in the way that he spoke and smiled that made you feel safe. So you found yourself staying after everyone else had long since gone home to share one last beer with him. Letting him take you home on his bike turned into letting him come inside for a few minutes, which eventually turned into letting him stay the night. It all snowballed and you could’ve stopped it, but you didn’t want to. You knew it was a bad idea but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. Both of you agreed to that. Neither of you were really in a place in life where you were up for intense commitment. It should’ve been fine. But, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be serious, there was something in you that couldn’t handle the way that he would still get strung out over his ex. You knew that pretty much everyone had that one person that was more difficult to get over than the rest, you just didn’t think that EZ’s was going to be someone who was still in his life so frequently. You knew that you had no right to be jealous, after all it wasn’t like the two of you were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was still something that you couldn’t stomach. So you cut the cord. It hurt, and you didn’t really want to do it, but you knew that for the sake of your own sanity you had to.

That was two months ago. And in the span of that two months, you never came to the bar on nights that you weren’t working. You didn’t want to make it awkward for yourself, or for Ezekiel, or for anyone else, for that matter. But things felt like they were getting back to some kind of normalcy. So, when Bishop told you that he was going to have someone else work the bar when a couple other charters came to town, but that you should still come and have a good time, you figured there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity to feel out the situation.

You walked through the doors of the clubhouse to the party already being in full swing. You smiled at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in one spot. There were a lot of faces that you had become familiar with in your time working the bar there, but there were some new ones too. Carefully maneuvering your way through people to get to the bar, you smiled at the young man that was doling out drinks as fast as he could.

“A beer when you get a chance, Ricky,” you said with a laugh.

He looked over at you, eyebrows raising when he realized it was you, “Shit, Y/N. Not used to seeing you on that side of the bar,” he chuckled, “Or seeing you all prettied up.”

You laughed as you snatched the bottle away from him, “Very funny.”

“Nah, I mean it. You look good.”

You smiled and took a sip of your beer, “Thank you.”

As you were scanning the room, Bishop appeared in front of you. There was a soft smile on his face as he pulled you into a hug, “Glad you came, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your cheek rested against his kutte for a moment, “Thanks for the invite,” you paused, “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

There was no hesitation as he nodded, “Of course. This is your bar, too.”

That was the last comment either of you made about it as you strayed to other topics. You had him tell you about some of the people that you didn’t know—the faces that you didn’t quite recognize. He was more than happy to dish out whatever details you wanted to know, enjoying that you wanted to know as much as you could about the people that came in and out of the clubhouse.

When he got flagged down into another conversation, he left you with a gentle kiss on your temple before slipping off into a new cluster of people. You leaned back against the bar, happy to just listen to the music and watch the party continue to unfold into the controlled chaos that it always was.

You were just about to ask Ricky for another beer when a young man appeared on the stool next to yours. You could feel his eyes on you and you looked over at him with a smile. His patch said Oakland and you instantly ran through what you could remember of their roster as you tried to put a name to his face.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, turning your body so that you were facing him, “Sure can,” you glanced over at your friend, “Another beer, please, Ricky. Put it on this guy’s tab,” you gestured to the biker sitting next to you with a laugh.

He laughed as he held out his hand to introduce himself, “Manny. Name’s Manny.”

You chuckled as you shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Manny. I’m Y/N,” you scanned him up and down, “I haven’t met you before, have I?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am. Just transferred from Spokane.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “that’s why I don’t recognize you.”

“You know everyone else down here?”

“Almost,” you laughed.

The two of you sat at the bar and talked. You hadn’t expected to get so wrapped up in conversation with him, but it was a welcome surprise. He seemed sweet, funny. You noticed the way that he was slowly but surely leaning in closer the longer the two of you talked. You pretended that you didn’t notice, soaking up the attention while you could have it. In another day or so he’d be gone and you’d be left to your own devices again. Besides, it was nice to feel wanted.

Manny was halfway through a sentence when he stopped, seeing someone behind you. A grin broke out across his face as he stood up and walked over to whoever it was. You turned to see Ezekiel standing there. He greeted his MC brother with a hug, but his eyes were glued on you the whole time.

“’Sup, Reyes? Was wondering if I was gonna see you around here tonight,” he chuckled, blissfully unaware of the tension.

“I’m never far,” he looked back and forth between the two of you before his eyes settled on Manny, “Mind if I steal Y/N for a minute? Gotta talk to her about something.”

He nodded, stepping back out of the way, “Sure thing,” he turned to you and flashed a smile, “You know where to find me if you wanna put another drink on my tab.”

You laughed and nodded, “Thank you.”

EZ waved for you to follow him and the two of you made your way out of the intensity of the clubhouse and out onto the deck. The air felt a little more breathable. This was the first time the two of you had any one-one-one time in months, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“So,” you sipped on your drink as you leaned back against the railing, “how’ve you been?”

EZ nodded, and you could see it in his eyes that there were a million thoughts running through his mind, “I’ve been alright. You?”

You shrugged, “Pretty good. Can’t complain,” you paused, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

The words got caught in his throat. When he’d seen the way you were talking and laughing with Manny, he felt a sliver of what it must’ve been like for you when he would come to you torn up about Emily. He knew that he had no right to be jealous, and for the entire night he was fighting the urge to go up and say something to you, to Manny, but his willpower finally wore out.

You stepped in closer and you gently rested one hand on his arm, “Hey, you good?”

Everything about you in that moment was distracting. He couldn’t look into your eyes without being hit with an onslaught of memories. The warmth radiating from your touch, and the wave of perfume that gently washed over him as you stepped in nearly knocked him off his feet. Every single memory of you that he tried not to think about, that he tried not to replay over and over again, hit him like a freight train.

He shut his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You cocked one eyebrow, knowing him too well to believe what he was saying to you, “You sure?”

“I miss you,” he said, not able to look you in the eye as he did.

You couldn’t help but to let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head, “Do you really? Or did you just not like seeing me talk to someone else?”

He pressed his lips into a line, knowing that you could easily see through him. He sighed, “He’s not gon—”

You cut him off, “Don’t,” your tone was kind, but still firm, “EZ, I think it’s probably better for the both of us if you don’t finish that sentence. I don’t say shit to you when I see you with Vicki’s girls all over you, right?”

“That’s not the same as a patch talking to you.”

“So that gives you the right to stick your nose into it?”

He knew it was a losing argument. He really didn’t know where he thought the discussion was going to go. Every logical bone in his body had been telling him to not bother walking up to you in the first place, but he did anyway. And now he was paying for it.

“I wanna be friends with you, Ezekiel,” you told him honestly, “So when you’re ready for that, let me know. But I don’t think you are yet,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Enjoy the party.”

You walked back inside, and took a deep breath as the door shut behind you. You walked over to the bar and got another beer before locating Manny again, eager to pick up where you had left off. You sauntered over to where he was sitting on the couch, letting out a laugh as he pulled you down onto his lap. You lazily draped one arm around his shoulder as you let yourself get roped into the conversation that they were having.

You had never been the kind of person to go out of your way to try and make someone else feel jealous. That wasn’t what this was about. However, you couldn’t deny the fact that seeing that pang of envy present in EZ’s face as he walked in and saw you draped over someone from a different charter, it felt good. You knew that beautiful mind of his was replaying the nights when the two of you had been in very much the same position, and how he cost it all for himself.

Despite the fact that it was starting to creep into the small hours of the morning, the clubhouse was far from empty. That wasn’t particularly unusual, but you just wanted to be home, in a room that wasn’t weighted with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. However, the warmth emanating from Manny’s hand resting lightly on your thigh wasn’t something you really wanted to give up just yet.

You leaned in a little closer to his ear, “How attached to this party are you?”

He chuckled, looking you in the eye, “What’s your offer?”

“I’ve got beer at my place that won’t make you keep running up your tab,” you trailed your nails lightly along the back of his neck.

“In that case,” he laughed as he tried to play off the fact that you had just sent a chill through his entire body, “I’m not attached to this party at all.”

You laughed as you hopped up off his lap, holding your hand out to pull him off the couch. He let you tug him along towards the door with a smile, trying to toss money onto the surface of the bar to cover his tab before leaving. Ricky let out a whistle and a laugh as you made your way towards the door and you couldn’t help but to shake your head.

The two of you walked down the steps of the clubhouse and Manny looked over at you, a smirk on his face, “You up for a ride?” he paused, “On the bike, I mean.”

You chuckled, nodding as you followed him, “I think so.”

He handed over his helmet with a smile, and you let him adjust it for you as you explained the way to get to your place. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see EZ standing on the deck, eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. You tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long. Before you knew it, you were hooking your leg over the back of Manny’s bike and wrapping your arms around his waist, settling against him as he pulled out of the lot.

EZ could still hear the rumble of the motorcycle as he took off down the steps to head towards his trailer. Angel had watched the entire scene play out and he went after his brother who he knew was about to do something undoubtedly stupid.

“Yo, Boy Scout, where you going?”

“She can’t just fucking…” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence as his feet slowed to a stop.

“You gotta let that shit go, ‘mano,” Angel caught up to him.

EZ heard what his brother was saying, but he was too busy reliving every night that the two of you had peeled out of the clubhouse just like that. The thought of you having those moments with someone else knocked the wind out of him. He thought about how things unraveled, about how you had let him go because he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. He knew he had no right to feel like he should be chasing after you, but he still wanted to. There was nothing more for either of you to say, but watching you ride off like that with someone else left a knot in his stomach.

“EZ,” Angel piped up again, clapping him on the back, “C’mon. There’s nothing for you out here right now. Let’s just go back inside.”

EZ let his brother drag him back to the clubhouse, back into the midst of the chaos. It felt emptier now, though. He wondered if that feeling would ever subside, if he would ever be able to fix what he’d broken.

[listentothelittlebird]

I was looking through some drafts and I found this - I think it’s my first attempt at writing Burning Iceberg. Here, Damian tagged along with Jason when he went off for training!

Word Count: 2942 words 

enjoy!

It’s Talia who sends him away.

“Training,” she says, but there is something in the way that she moves, the way that the base is silent and waiting with bated breath right up until they leave. 

Jason leaves alone. Talia watches him go, her posture too unnaturally relaxed for anything not to be amiss. 

He gets one day away from the base before he realises he has a tail.

“Damian?” 

The young boy scuffles out of the shadows with a haughty sniff. “Took you long enough to notice me, Todd,” he huffs. Given the boy’s night clothing - the one’s he wore to sleep - Jason guessed that he had just arrived.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, curious. Sure, he had talked to the kid, had trained with the kid, but why was he here?

Damian glanced at Jason, then glanced away. “You were going alone,” he declared stiffly, “I would think that you would prefer company.”

“Mother agreed, and sent me after you,” Damian added, not at all convincing. Talia would never allow Damian out of her sights, especially with the tension in the air back at the base. Something was definitely up, but Jason let it slide and gestured for Damian to come closer. “You hungry, kid? I’ve got enough food for both of us until the next village.”

He knows that Talia might come after him. There’s no way he would let Damian disappear, just like that. For the moment, however, Jason could care less.

He had never asked for a big brother, and he had never asked for a little brother, but he was definitely willing to risk his life for the eight-year-old beside him. 

-

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, quietly. They’re stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the South Pole.

“I want to find a bender,” Jason replies, “The North pole is more connected to the world, and there’s more people to worry about. I’d think that a bender would hide in the South, where there’s less people.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Your skills are not adequate to face a bender, Todd.”

Jason pauses, then snorts, “I’m not gonna fight the bender, D. I just want to… talk to them.”

Damian eyes him with a skeptical look, but otherwise says nothing.

-

They’re riding through a brutal storm when Damian loses his grip and tumbles towards the railing.

Jason follows, one hand gripping tightly onto the metal rail and the other holding onto Damian as he flailed. For once, the kid looked genuinely terrified.

A wave crashes into them, and pulls them over. 

-

Jason is surprised to wake up. He tried to gauge his surroundings, but nothing really added up. He was under a fur blanket, a fire crackling near him. Someone was shifting beside him.

“You’re awake,” the voice murmurs, “I thought you’d sleep longer, but it seems not.”

Jason, carefully pulled himself up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed around the igloo. It was sparse, but large enough to fit him, the new man, and-

“Dami,” Jason breathed, headless of the man’s presence as he jerked out of the furs and toward

 his brother’s still form. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, and his heart only calmed when he could feel the steady thrumming for a full minute.

“You’re welcome,” came the dry remark. Right. Jason turned back to the man, assessing him silently. He wore a blue parka, and was currently wearing the hood low over his face. 

“The two of you washed ashore last night,” the man explained, without prompting, “Your friend was barely breathing, but he made it through. You were surprisingly fine once the threat of frostbite was removed.”

Jason glanced again at Damian. 

“Thank you,” Jason stated, before his voice hardened, “But can we trust you?”

The man sighed. “Figures that two kids running around in the Antarctic wouldn’t trust a stranger,” he mused to himself. His amused smile was the only thing that Jason could see, the fire and the shadows obscuring the rest. 

“We are a long distance from the nearest village, but I can take you there. I can send the two of you on your way the moment that your friend feels better.”

-

“You know that you’re safe here, right?” Jason stated quietly. Anuk had left them in the igloo and went hunting by himself. He claimed that he worked better alone.

Damian looked up from where he was curled up in a corner of the igloo, his back pressed tightly against the icy wall. He wrinkled his nose, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jason sighed.

“Look, if this guy meant bad, he’d have done something already,” Jason reasoned, spreading his hands along the icy ground. He was glad that his resistance to low temperatures had survived the pit, even if his bending had not.

“Your trust will get you killed,” Damian murmured. Jason winced, “Yeah, well, it kinda already did. But that’s besides the point,” Jason rushed to add, “Just- trust is dangerous, sure, but can you really live your life without trusting anyone?”

Damian was silent. Jason, taking a dive, spoke up, “Do you trust me?”

Damian jerked his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

Jason nodded, and pressed, “Talia? Ra’s?”

Damian hesitated. Jason moved on.

“Listen. I know you just wanted to tag along for my training, but we’ve been under the radar for at least a month.” They had arrived on a full moon, and that night was a full moon, again. 

“Even Talia would have to admit to Ra’s that she thought we were dead somewhere in the Antarctic. Firebenders hate the two poles - they won’t be sending a search party for us, much less coming to find us themselves. You don’t have to go back to them.”

This time, Damian glared. “Where else would I go, Todd?” he spat, and Jason realised that the kid had already thought of this, had already considered this, “Where else am I supposed to go, if I do not return to my home?”

Jason pursed his lips, and despite the green raging inside him…

“Bruce would take you in,” Jason admitted, shoving the green away, “I can’t say the same for myself, not when I’m done with him, but… you. You’re his kid. He’d definitely take you in.”

Jason grinned, “He’d love you. Hell, he already took in the Replacement, what’s one more?”

Damian shifted. “Why won’t he take you in?” he questioned.

Jason stilled. “It’s not-” Jason started and stopped, and shook his head. The Joker was still alive. He had adopted a new kid. He wasn’t needed, hell, he wasn’t wanted. He really had just been a charity case. He breathed, trying to push the green down.

“It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can forgive Bruce, and I don’t know if I can stare at him without wanting to put a knife to his neck.”

That was what scared him the most. That he would lose control. He hated Bruce right now, hated him for what he had done, what he had not done, but his nightmare was his vision going green and fading to a Batman bleeding out from a knife in his grip.

Damian looked confused, so Jason tried to explain. “Bruce is… not a perfect man,” Jason sighed, “But he’s all Gotham has. And the Robins - what he does for them, that’s good. Even if-” Even if it gave him false hope for a rescue that never came. He swallowed that down.

“For all of his faults, he did give me some of the best memories.” Not that he remembered many of them. The pit took that away, too. “I hate him, but I loved him, too.”

-

“You’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at Anuk. “Ready for?”

“The full moon,” Anuk explained, not really explaining at all. He pointed towards the sky. “Tonight should be a full moon. We’ll set out onto the ocean at midnight, and you can perform the traditional water-bending stances for Tui and La. If nothing else, it is a tradition that I practice, and as my student, I want you to practice it as well.”

Jason sighed, but went along with it. He still had no bending - sometimes he thought that the water would move just so, but most of the time, there was nothing. He diligently learnt all of the water-bending moves, but Anuk was probably lying when he said that he was “ready”. How do you tell if someone knows their stuff if they don’t even bend?

-

The night was quiet. Serene, silent in the way that Gotham never was. The League had been silent, too, but not in this way. There was tension in the air, in League bases, sounds controlled and quenched before they could travel. Here, there were only expanses of snow and ice to echo back each scrunch of their boots.

Anuk bended a gondola made of ice, and Jason hopped on, not willing to show his own hesitation. Anuk waved his arms and the gondola moved out onto the calm Antarctic sea.

“According to my Gramps, we used to have big ceremonies on full moons,” Anuk started conversationally, filling the cold silence with soft murmurs. Jason realised belatedly that they should have brought a lamp, or at least a torchlight, but it seemed like Anuk knew where he was going, even in the dim moonlight.

“I live in the South pole, but my Gramps hailed from the North. He says that the late princess Yue gave her life to keep the moon spirit, Tui, alive. The Northern water-benders would present their bending on full moons to pay homage to Yue and her sacrifice.”

The gondola slowed to a stop, and they were left bobbing softly on near-silent waves. Anuk stretched his arms out and pulled, and a square platform of ice froze before them. Anuk stepped back and looked towards Jason expectantly.

Jason had grown used to the icy tundra, enough so that he did not immediately slip off the icy block when he hopped out of the gondola. He took his place at the centre of the ice block, glanced up at the moon, and started to run through his bending forms.

Nothing happened at first. Jason felt kind of stupid, actually, bending without bending at all. He nearly slipped a few times, but he managed to keep his balance, and powered through the basic forms into the more advanced attacks.

Then, something shifted.

“Jason,” the wind whispered, and Jason stumbled. His foot slipped, and he ended up on all four as the ice block rocked, waves pushing over the sides and washing over his hands and knees. The voice sounded like Bruce.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” came again, and it really did sound like Bruce. Jason blinked into the moonlit ice and nearly gasped. 

It was a bird’s-eye view of the Batcave. He would know that cavern anywhere. Batman was stooped down beside a glass casing, positioned at the centre of the cave.

The vision zoomed in. The casing had a blood-stained Robin uniform, burned and tattered, way too destroyed to be repairable. Jason realised it was his suit. The one he had died in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Bruce was saying, and Jason could only watch as Bruce absolutely bawled his eyes out in front of the casing, still wearing his batsuit, only having pulled the cowl down.

Just when the sobs died down, Jason heard, “I left Joker in the helicopter. I knew it was going to crash, but I- I thought he didn’t deserve to live,” Bruce admitted quietly. Jason’s breath hitched.

“He survived. Of course he did. If I keep going after him, he’ll just keep surviving, and… I have to stop, before I can’t. Before I lose myself in a world that took you. I’m sorry,” he choked out, and the tears continued to flow.

The scene changed.

“Why?” Dick’s voice screamed, raw and so full of emotion that it jarred Jason to the bones. “Why did you let him live?”

“We can’t be the dictators of who lives and who dies,” Bruce started, but Dick cut him off. “This is the Joker we’re talking about, B!” Dick yelled, somehow louder than the previous shout, “Joker doesn’t care who lives and who dies! He definitely didn’t care when he-” Dick cut himself off with a sharp exhale.

Bruce waited as Dick took measured breaths. “I just don’t get it,” Dick whispered, “A man like him? B, why did you save him?”

Silence. 

“We fight for justice,” Bruce rumbled, steadfast and sure compared to the crying mess in the last vision. Confident, like he had worked through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. “We can’t just kill people as we see fit. Not even if we hold a personal grudge. Not even if we want revenge for our own.” 

They both glanced towards the casing.

“I still want to kill him,” Dick stated bluntly. Jason thought Bruce would reaffirm his rules, that he would cook up a convincing argument and strike down Dick’s motives.

Instead, Bruce only answered with, “Sit on it for a few days. Don’t make an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”

Dick sighed harshly, and left the viewing range of the vision. Bruce turned back to the casing.

“I never got to apologise to you,” Bruce murmured, “For accusing you of pushing Garzonasa.”

“I was worried for you. Nobody should have to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life. I’m sorry if I came off as distrustful. I should have done more. Been better.”

One last scene. A young kid, black hair and blue eyes, looking up at the casing, fiddling with a new Robin suit that Jason had only seen through grainy newspaper prints.

“You were my hero,” the boy said, and checked his empty surroundings before he continued, “You were… awesome. You had so much energy and spunk, and-” he huffed, a small smile on his face, “-much more fire than me. Which is ironic, to say the least.”

Jason watched as the kid produced a photo from his gauntlet. It was a photo of Jason and Nightwing, on the rooftops, laughing and joking around. 

“I always wanted to be your friend,” he admitted, “I never wanted to replace you. I just knew that Batman needed a partner, and I guess nobody else was gonna do it, so. Here I am.”

The photo slipped back under his cape. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like you, but I’m trying. I… I know I shouldn’t miss you, because technically I never knew you, but. I do.”

Timothy Drake looked up at the suit for a long minute, before turning and pressing his domino mask across his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he whispered to the air.

The vision disappeared with the pull of the tide. Jason was suddenly aware of the ice block he was still on, as it tipped against the slightly-larger wave. A combination of water and ice made him slide right off the block’s edge. 

Anuk’s yell was drowned out by the freezing water rushing to meet him. It was the very opposite of being dipped into the Lazarus pit. The water was a dark blue, and he could still see the moonlight piercing through the water’s surface. The light bent above him, and he blinked, because it almost looked like a face. A young woman, with long white hair flowing around her serene smile.

The light pulsed, and suddenly he could feel the water around him, moving and flowing, pulsating with its own energy. He could feel the water turning and churning around Anuk’s gondola as he steered towards him. He spread out his arms and pushed-

-and shot out of the water, landing with a slight stumble back on Anuk’s gondola. The boat rocked slightly, but Jason smoothed his palms downwards and the rippling waves ceased.

 “Tui and La,” Anuk cursed to himself, “You were under there for quite a- oh.”

Jason tilted his head. “Oh?” he prompted, still reeling from how alive he felt. He was surrounded by his element, and he almost wanted to dive back under just to soak in his renewed bending.

Anuk produced an ice mirror, angling it to catch the moonlight. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely a patch of hair that was no longer black, dangling right in front of his eyes.

His eyes were blue, like the colour he was born with.

“Yue’s blessing,” Anuk breathed. “What?” Jason questioned, looking up from where he was scrutinising his new hairstyle. Anuk had his head tilted reverently towards the moon.

“Princess Yue lived because Tui gave her life,” Anuk recounted, “Her hair was a stark white because of this. When Tui’s mortal form was killed, Yue gave back her lifeforce to revive Tui.” Anuk chuckled, “It’s why most people from the poles don’t bother dyeing their hair.”

Jason himself eyed the moon contemplatively. He closed his eyes, and realised with a start that the green was gone. The pit’s effects - the murderous rage, the unnaturally-green eyes, the blockage of his bending - they were gone.

Anuk had taught him a traditional bow used to start and end water-bending fights, a sign of respect for the opponent. Jason bowed towards the moon, and hoped he was doing it right.

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly, “Yue, Tui, whatever you prefer to be called. Thank you.”

The moon shone on the ocean, and he swore he could see Yue’s face once more, smiling.

[maggiec70]

Prince Bagration Makes a Cameo Appearance

Another excerpt from the longest-running histfic draft. This is for Tairin. I hope I did her prince justice, small though it may be.

Jean’s staff found a two-story house large enough for them all in a northern Viennese suburb. General Compans ordered the portly, red-faced owner and his large family to leave, slipping him a fistful of gold coins before he could protest. Mariana couldn’t tell how many coins constituted a fistful, but they produced an incredulous expression on the man’s face and then a deep bow that revealed his blindingly bald, pink pate. There must be a secret source of gold coins that only Compans and Thomières knew about, perhaps hidden away in a sturdy oak box labeled Bribes. She had seen these coins appear whenever Jean wanted to sleep somewhere other than a barn or outside on the ground for several days. She also knew only a very few marshals and generals bothered to compensate the people whose lives they disrupted or even thought to do so.

“Don’t wreck the place,” Compans ordered them after the Viennese family had bustled out the door, their personal belongings tied up in large, unwieldy bundles.

“Why would we?” she asked Joseph as two adjutants added more wood to a fire in the large stone hearth. She wondered how much food she might find in the kitchen cupboards and the spacious pantry leading from the kitchen. Indeed, the life expectancy of the well-fed hens she’d seen in the dooryard was measured in minutes.

“It was a pro forma reminder,” Joseph replied. “We’ve never been a horde of Vandals or Huns, and the marshal knows it.” He grinned at her and stretched so much that he almost slid out of his chair. “I can’t say the same about Prince Murat’s cavalry or anyone in Marshal Augereau’s VII Corps. Now there’s a collection of seasoned plunderers—as bad as one of the plagues of Egypt, but not, I think, as dedicated to looting as Marshal Masséna.”

Later that evening, with a cold November wind safely outside and warmth and food inside, she sipped her second cup of rich coffee laced with cream from the black and white cow standing up to her knees in hay in the barn. “After ages in Purgatory, I’ve been given my reward.”

“Savor your taste of Paradise, Gabriel, while you can. We’re leaving in a couple of days,” Jacques said, unhooking his cloak and shaking sleet from it.

“Why? The Austrians surrendered at Ulm almost four weeks ago, and we’re north of Vienna with no Austrians anywhere that I can see. There isn’t anyone to fight.”

Jacques poured coffee from a porcelain pot and backed up to the fire. “Don’t you read the dispatches, Gabriel?”

“Not often—they’re boring.”

“Well, you should. We hadn’t seen the Austrian army because it left Vienna right before we arrived. Now they’ve gone further north, with General Kutuzov’s Russians.”

“Who’s Kutuzov?” she asked, trying not to yawn in his face. She really should pay more attention to the dispatches and reports. If Jean ever asked her about the campaign's minutia, she had better know enough to answer. She’d seen what happened when an officer couldn’t tell Jean what he wanted to know and didn’t want to subject herself to the humiliation of a profanity-laced public rebuke.

“Some clever Russian general, older than God. He’s heading for Moravia, though, not Mother Russia.”

Mariana remembered Jacques’s words three days later. Ejected from the warm stone house before dawn, she bundled up in her heavy cloak and gloves and rode out of Vienna with the rest of V Corps. Now, close to midnight, she didn’t think Moravia was anywhere close or warmer than Russia. It was full dark when they rode into a tiny hamlet so small they would have missed it if the scouts and leading edges of Oudinot’s grenadiers hadn’t literally stumbled over it. Snow topped with a thin layer of rime covered the cottage roofs, garden walls, the rough pathway serving as a street, and stubble in the surrounding fields. The inhabitants had shuttered every window, but thin cracks of pale yellow light escaped from some of them.

“They’re more afraid of the Russians than they are of us,” Jean said in response to her question. Each word came out on a small puff of white, as her own had done. Soon it might be too cold to talk. “If you looked in those barns, you’d find nothing but old straw. There’s nothing of value in the cottages, either. If the villagers had enough warning, they would have hidden everything, and if not, the Russians have it all now.”

Mariana had never seen a hamlet this small before or so eerily deserted. The barrenness she saw in the faint snow light and that Jean had described made her shiver. This time the cold struck deep in her bones.

“We’ll be sleeping outside, gentlemen, on the other side of Hollabrünn and eating whatever we have with us. It will be a short night anyway—the enemy’s less than six miles ahead.” Jean spurred his horse forward over the little village track, and the rest followed, riding close enough to brush each other’s stirrups. Mariana wrapped the reins around one wrist and massaged her hands and fingers inside her gloves, afraid to take them off. The idea of trying to sleep on the frozen, iron-hard ground was dreadful. If the Russians were so close, and if Jean meant to attack them in the morning, she might as well sit up all night. If she didn’t freeze before dawn, then a brisk encounter with the enemy, even hand to hand, would warm her up nicely. “Aunt Lucrezia, you would be appalled,” she whispered through stiff lips cracked and bleeding from the cold.

Despite her plan to sit up all night, Mariana had just fallen asleep, curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up nearly beneath her chin, when Joseph shook her into befuddled wakefulness. “Get up, Gabriel,” he said, peeling her cloak away. We’re leaving now.”

She staggered to her feet, grabbed her cloak back from Joseph, and buttoned it up tight. “No breakfast?”

“No time for any. There’s a small Russian rear-guard ahead. We have to eliminate it before it reaches Kutuzov.”

Mariana didn’t mind not eating as much as she minded not having something hot to drink. However, the worst prospect was having to do the necessary at the edge of the forest to her left. She still thought it was manifestly unfair that lately, she nearly froze whenever she pissed, while her comrades did not. An inequality, however, that she was powerless to alter one whit.

Having concluded her business in the forest, she hurried to untie Odysseus from the picket line, tighten his girth, and climb into the saddle. She trotted off to join the aides, who waited in a nearly silent group, close together, their horses impatiently stamping the hard ground. Without a word, they swung around and fell in behind Jean and General Compans. She wanted to know how far away the Russian rear-guard was and how many Russians comprised a rear-guard, but she couldn’t make her lips move.

General Thomières saved her the trouble. “Excellency, how many troops does Bagration have ahead of us?”

While she wondered who Bagration was, Jean slowed his horse to respond to his senior aide. “Fewer than I have, even though I’m short two divisions and even shorter of supplies. Neither the weather nor the ground is good for much but a short skirmish.”

The air was so silent and frigid that Mariana heard the intonation beneath his words that often meant more than the words themselves. He sounded confident rather than cocky or foolhardy. A short skirmish, he’d said, and that was fine with her.

The encounter between Bagration’s rear-guard and V Corps’ grenadiers, reinforced at the last possible moment by a squadron of Murat’s heavy cavalry, was not a skirmish. Mariana thought it was more like a brawl in some wayside tavern, loud, fast, and disorganized. It ended before she’d had a chance to do anything and because Bagration told Prince Murat that he had just learned about a truce. The prince believed him, dismounted, told Jean to order his troops to cease fire, and went inside a slightly shell-shocked villa that had been some Moravian aristocrat’s summer home.

“A truce? What the fuck is he talking about? I had the damn Russians on their arses, and he rides in and orders me to stop!” Jean was livid, his expression as hard as granite. Mariana worried what he might do when he jumped from his horse, leaving the reins to trail in the snow, and stomped after Murat. Acting on instinct, aides, chief of staff, and a few senior adjutants closed around him like a protective wall and entered the villa together.

Intended for soft summer breezes, the villa struggled to combat the mid-November cold. Fires burned in hearths at either end of the reception chamber’s black and white tiled floor. Clear glass bottles filled with colorless liquid stood among scores of crystal glasses on heavily carved tables in the center of the room. Someone had shoved chairs and settees against the walls. Officers in uniforms Mariana had never seen before crowded around the tables, opening bottles, pouring liquid into glasses, and handing them around. She watched Prince Murat take a sip, then drain it and hold it out for someone to fill. She watched Jean barrel forward, his expression still thunderous, until a tall officer with the face of a young eagle and enough medals on his chest to blind half a dozen men stepped forward and intercepted him. Together they moved away from Murat and his entourage and stood by one of the double windows, heads bent close together, talking. Another officer approached them, two glasses on a silver tray, and quickly left when they took the glasses and continued their conversation. When Major Guéhéneuc tried to insinuate himself into the conversation, Jean turned on him like an enraged wasp. The major scuttled away, staring at the floor, his face scarlet. Mariana rocked back on her boot heels, a smirk spreading across her face.

As voices rose around her, followed by the rank odor of damp wool and unwashed males, Mariana felt the beginnings of a headache. To take her mind off it, she asked Thomières, “What are they talking about? And who is that Russian?”

He laughed, a soft sound but not derisive. She was glad since she rarely spoke to him at length. “I haven’t the slightest idea what they’re talking about, but that’s Prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration the marshal’s talking to.” He laughed again, this time even softer as if he worried someone might overhear. “Talking now, fighting later. Fine looking general, though, don’t you think?”

“Indeed he is,” Mariana said. With his chiseled features and thick, dark hair, the tall, slender Russian looked a little like Jean. Big rooster and bantam rooster, she thought, and almost hooted with laughter. When she could trust herself to speak, she asked, “What’s in the bottles?”

“Vodka. Have you never tasted it?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Then allow me, lieutenant,” Thomières said and escorted her to the nearest table. Rummaging among the glasses, he found two relatively clean ones and filled them from one of the bottles. “Salut,” he said, threw back his head, and drank it down.

She sniffed at the clear liquid. It had no odor. Since Thomières was still standing, how dangerous could it be? She drank hers in a single gulp, and the alcohol burned all the way to her stomach, where it exploded. Tears flooded her eyes, she sneezed and then coughed. One cough led to several until Thomières pounded her on the back and filled her glass.

“Quick—drink this.”

She did and stopped coughing. This time the vodka felt smooth as silk, and she grinned at the senior aide. “You should have warned me.”

“And miss your reaction?” He filled her glass for the third time, but before she could drink it, four Russian officers joined them at the table, clutching their glasses filled to the brim and sloshing onto their dingy white gloves. Their faces were clean-shaven except for amazingly full side-whiskers, their cheeks brick red in the candlelight. Raising their glasses, they shouted in unison, “Za vashe zdorovye!” When they had downed every last drop, they tossed their glasses toward the fireplace. The sound of shattering crystal brought to a halt every conversation in the spacious room, and then other Russians began throwing their empty glasses to the floor.

“Why not?” Thomières said and threw his glass toward the hearth.

“Indeed!” Mariana replied and threw hers, too.

Whatever Jean and Bagration may have been discussing, or whatever Prince Murat may have believed about the alleged truce, or whatever the French and Russian officers thought about the prospect of imminent hostilities between them, everything disappeared beneath the sharp-edged sound of crystal shattering and the roars of toasts in French and Russian. Mariana linked arms with Thomières to keep from reeling and tried to get her tongue around the consonant-laden Russian words. Somehow, they sounded more satisfactory than light, polite French phrases and better suited to the vodka, of which she had become quite fond in no time at all.

Jean summoned aides and staff officers with a sharp whistle that penetrated the merriment and stalked out of the villa and into the icy, starlit night. The sudden cold jolted Mariana from her torpor, and the sharp air stung her eyes and nose. Her comrades showed similar symptoms of waking from a muddled sleep, and she wondered what might have happened had they stayed and emptied all those bottles.

[ficsnroses]

Weekend Away - John Wick x Reader

prompt  : “I think we were a little too loud last night...”

warnings : smut, fluff! x f! reader. 2.8k.

summary : john and you are away for the weekend with friends, and end up getting intimate one evening. however, the next morning, you fear someone may have heard you two getting freaky hehehaheha

notes : this is something I wrote a while ago, but didn’t think it would ever see the light of day. last night I pulled it out of my drafts and did a little editing, and here it is! please leave feedback if you enjoy. I really do miss being around here. hope everyone's doing well today xx 

I really wanted to post something for keke’s birthday<33:) happy birthday to the most excellent man I know, ilysm. I've been itching to post something, but haven't been able to bring myself to write anything new yet. I have a couple more stories like this that I wrote but never posted, I might release those while going through this writing/creative break. Thank you for sticking around, it means so so much :)

“You have no idea how hard it was to not rip your bikini bottoms to the side and fuck you right then and there, in the lake.” An aroused John whispers, deep baritoned voice rasped with thick need. Today, John and you had ventured out on a trip with some friends to a Cabin by your favourite lake; woody outdoors and crystal waters to bliss.

Soft, plump breasts and perfectly dewy skin, glistening under the moonlight. John sighs, remembering that this, you, in all your entirety, were his. All his, for the taking. Groaning into the silk of your pink stained lips, his tongue brushes delicately over yours, his lips leaving peppered kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, eliciting soft moans from you that only warmed him further.

In the woods, the breeze was different; beautifully élite; whisked winds laced with something that hungered John- the gorgeous views of you, his girl, enjoying yourself. Lately, John and you had been majorly occupied, busy schedules and endless work days leaving little to leisure.

This trip was with friends, yet more, for you and your John to be together; at last.

Now, in the midst of the midnight eve, John and you lay low in your shared bedroom for the stay; a beautifully wooden cabin room with expensive faux furred carpets, a breathtaking view of the pearly moon gazed out your window. John’s callous, sturdy palms worship each inch of your silky skin, kneading, massaging your feminine hips, meaty cock throbbed to a bulging poke; tender on your bare thigh.

Attributed to tiresome nights, complied with conflicting schedules; it’d been a while since John and you had sex.

Real, rough, pleasurable, critically needed sex.

And now, finally, he’s far too in love, far too intoxicated by your touch to stop, your own thoughts far too hazed to halt now. Underneath his nude body, you lay, completely wanton & exposed for his taking. Slow, tender, your petite hand strokes his rock hard cock, gently tugging him in preparation for what would come next. Synchronized, John’s breath sputters hot against your skin, full lips kissing delicately down the column of your neck. Mindlessly, he leaves faintly violet marks, marking your body as his own, personal paradise.

A place only he was allowed to pleasure.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper, kissing a delicate bruise to his shoulder. Gentle, sensitive, your soft hand toys with his balls, massaging his cock. “I missed this,” Smirking, you smear tiny dew drops of his pre cum, bringing up a finger to lick clean, tasting the sap of his seed to your lips.

Salty, decadent; sinfully sweet. All yours.

“Yeah, kitten?” John softly, deeply whispers. “I missed your pretty pussy.” Sighing when you pull him closer, your eyes close to the feel of him kissing your neck, so mindlessly in love with all of you in this moment. “My pretty pussy.” He grins, a wet kiss stippling to your lips.

Slow, present, John’s stocky fingers move between your entwined bodies to rub soft circles to your slick entrance; your clit in order to ease himself in, preparing your cunt. With a sharp breath sucked in, and a glutteral moan enticed off his needy lips, John sighs heavily, your own gasp laced with anticipation when you feel him sink inside in one hard thrust. His thickness splits you inch by inch, your delicate walls barely able to accommodate him whole.

Being with John, has always been a treat. The way he loves you, offers your needs first; he fucks so good, makes love so well.

Arms loomed to his neck, you draw his body closer with a bite to your lip, his own bearded jaw tightening to the feel of your warm, deliciously wet haven swallowing him whole. The pace he sets proves imperative, rough, stumbling profanities and whispers of love fleeing both your lips. Your cunt burns deliciously to his thrusts, the feel of his thick, heavy balls slamming relentlessly to your seared core pushing you further over the edge. John’s chest is quick to heave, quick to daub a rosy hue with peppered pink patches from the heat; delectably satisfying relief, at last.

“Feel good, baby?” John moans, voice confident with sure; he was quite literally fucking you into oblivion. Eyes clasped shut to a tight hold, your mouth falls slightly a gape; genuine tears threatening to scorch when you feel the absolute bliss he’s channeling into you. Hard, fast, deep, so fucking deep he hits your end each time, your G spot grinding to his touch. Whimpering, you allow small, tiny gasps to plead out, hands placing to John’s ass to urge him in further, practically melting within his touch as he ventures to the valley of your breasts.

John adores your breasts, so full, so plump, so soft for his taking. Wet and warm, you groan to the feel of his mouth delighting your nipples, hands squeezing, kneading gently to the soft flesh of your modesty. To each jolt of his hips, your breasts bounce rhythmically, soft fingers of your hands pulling a tug to his coffee hued, lengthy strands. Massaging his scalp, you allow his head to take refuge in the soft curve of your neck, and he kisses the skin, sucking, nipping, appreciating the silk as his hips never falter; fingers moving to your cunt to rub, swirl, massaging two digits to your creamy released mixed together.

“It’s…it’s so good-” Yelped out your lips, a particularly loud moan shudders through the surround air, repetitive praises of his name reciting as if a prayer you so desperately needed to live by flows off your tongue; the syllables drenched with need. “So tight, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” John moans, a feverish kiss to your mauve stained lips. “You look the most beautiful when you’re taking me the way you do, baby.” He whispers, wet marks doused into your skin. He pumps hastily, pounding your walls, and the slight curve of his massive length pulses; thick shafted veins and gorgeous bumps, ridges all felt deep, deep inside.

John’s cock is a piece of art. A masterpiece, you’d forever pride in.

Within a few particularly harsh thrusts, you yelp in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, searing your nerves with blissful tingles as he fucks, pounding into your delicate, gently bruising skin, still chasing his own.

“Gonna cum,” John groans, and you clench your cunt tight for him, tight; just how he liked it. His hips roll selfishly almost, breathy moans appreciating your body immense. “You feel so good, honey, so fucking good.” He drills, and slams, and batters, into your sore pussy, your nails desperately digging bruises into his biceps as you encourage. “Cum for me John, inside, baby, let me feel you.” You soak, back arching, body jerking as you feel him burst inside; habitually pulling your body close as he cums. John’s cock stills deep, deep inside, spurts of his hot, delectably creamy seed slicking inside you as you sigh,

sigh in complete,

and utter, bliss. Bliss with your love close, nestled on top with your skin sticking together; your arms providing a safe haven for his sex gratified body to rest, coming down both your highs.

“I love you,” He barely manages, foreheads connecting as you hold each other close, lips twisting into warm smiles and tender giggles to the thought of being able to do exactly this, all over again, the next day.

Morning comes in warm, yellow waves of nothing, but beautiful warmth all around. You’d waken to the bed next to you empty, John’s vacant spot casting a gentle frown to your lips when you’d come to know of his absence. Sleep thickened eyes had barely fluttered open, tired arms searching, longing to nestle into his broad, beautifully comforting chest. Voices can be perceived downstairs, the bedside clock illuminating the time of 8:30 AM, aromas of floral dark and freshly watered pine exuding all around.

With a small yawn and a stretch of limbs, you’d climbed out a sea of rippling, silky duvet seams, opting to drape John’s long forgotten shirt from the night prior off the floor and onto your exposed breasts. In the heat of the moment, sleep had long pirouetted through your veins, and you’d only managed to slip back on a pair of lacy underwear before the bulk of John’s arms had drawn your body close, burying his bearded face into your neck with his own form tangling with yours, succumbing to a deep slumber, holding each other close.

The cabin was big, yet intimate. All of yours and John’s dearest friends had accompanied; you’d long know you’d be leaving this weekend with a suitcase full of memories and wishful remembrances, spent with people who meant to you.

Through a gentle smile and rub of drooping eyelids, you venture out your shared room, a bigger smile enveloping when the sight of your dream catches your glimpse from above the wooden stairs. John sits below, at the wooden dining table, a coffee in hand as his brown littered eyes gloss the morning paper. He looks beautiful this way, unbelievably handsome. You’d long come to appreciate morning John, ruffled hair a mess from the night’s sleep, with that special, raspy morning velvet voice that still sent butterflies rippling within you. Gently thudding down the steps, he smiles wide catching sight of you towards him, adorned in his white Henley shirt.

“Morning.” Smiling, your hands thread into the wisps of his chocolate hair, sinking into the depths of his lap as his arms come around your frame. His eyes seem warmer than normal, a glittering shine casting over each his features.

“Hi, baby.” John warmly grins, stippling a gentle kiss to your temple with the pads of his fingers grazing over your skin through a pull of your body closer. “Did you sleep okay?” He wonders, thumb smoothing over your cheek as a stray hair tucks behind your ear.

Still smiling a warm symphony, you sigh. “I did. Didn’t like waking up without you there, though.”

John’s lips frown, and a heaviness falls to his tone. “I’m sorry, I got a call earlier. Didn’t wanna wake you too early.” Explaining, his hand falls to cover yours that lays flat on his chest, softly grazing over the supple skin. “You haven’t been able to sleep in lately. I wanted you to have that this weekend.”

Moments like this with John prove to be your favourite; simple, mundane, enveloped in love. Moments where the laughter rolls up from his chest, and his smile shines a glow to each part of you that loves seeing him this way. Moments where you anticipate, dream of a future together, where you’d wake to him this way every day,

Smiling, and smiling, with perhaps your favourite book in hand and his head in your lap; full pots of earl grey brewing,

as you lounge on a Sunday morning. Smiling, and smiling,

        because of him.

Love drunk, you lean in closer, catching his lips in a warm kiss, smiling and smiling, into his lips. He tastes of espresso, light and mellow, and that something unique held on his tongue; something only he’d had, something sweet.

Lost in each other’s touch, you sigh as you pull away, moving to sit behind him on the chair adjacent, helping yourself to a sip of his ceramic mug. His hand plants to your thigh, gently soothing the skin while his eyes scan through the sea of words resumed on his morning paper read. You’d just gotten comfortable, sinking into the chair with John’s coffee coupled in your grip for another sip, as the voice of your best friend channels your ears.

“Morning, love birds.” She grins, walking through the wooden kitchen corridors. With a smirk daubed to her lips and a knowing simper your way, you’d immediately caught onto something shifty in her tone.

“Hey, Amy.” John greets, chuckling. With another sip of his coffee, that you’d devoured a good portion of, he kindly asks. “How was your night? Did you sleep okay?”

Amy’s lips curl with a knowing smirk, something you’d become immensely familier with over the course of your friendship. Knowing each other since the first grade, Amy and you were quite possibly as close as they come. John may have not been able to pick up on her alteration, but you’d been quick.

“I did.” Amy returns, shuffling through the cabinets for a glass mug of her own. “There was a little...commotion around midnight, but it wasn’t too bad.” She adds, eyes drifting to yours, a goofy smile on her lips. With your eyes narrowing and stare scrunching, your alertness raises, and you let go of John’s hand that had mindlessly been holding yours, removing it off your thigh. Peering up at your lips as you raise off the seat, John’s fingers tug your forearm, asking for a small kiss before you’d walk away. Embedding your lips to his briefly, you feel him let go of your skin as your eyes suspiciously cast over Amy, mindlessly shuffling through the kitchen space as she prepares herself a cup of coffee. You stay cautious, ambled up beside her as you check the fridge.

Something is off.

“We have cream, right?” She asks, offering you half her blueberry muffin, taking out a carton of eggs from the fridge.

“Should be in there.” You return, still thoughtful, attempting to study her whole. The longer you stare, the more normalcy returns, and you wonder if maybe your tired brain had merely thought there had been something off with her tenor. Easing yourself, you opt to give it the benefit of the doubt, opening the carton of eggs to aid her in making breakfast for all the others.

Still asleep, her husband James would probably be down soon; him and John got along pretty well, and double date nights were quite frequent between you all.

“How many should we do?” She squints her eyes your way, sighing. “Half the carton?”

“Sure.” You reply, relaxing into a more normal state of mind. “Make me a cup of coffee too please, I accidentally drank half of John’s when I got down.” You giggle, taking the carton from her hands. She chuckles an approval in response, gathering all the utensils and gadgets you’d need for preparation. Finally, as you lean over the cabin sink, washing your hands with the lavender scented soap, you hear Amy just behind your ear as she reaches beside you, pumping some soap into her own hand. 

“By the way, you totally have porn star moans.”

And your eyes widen. Shock and realization courses your veins, a horrified expression washes over your features as you allow her comment to absorb. Amy only giggles, chuckling, with her sarcastically suggestive voice teasing you further. “Sounds like Jonathan is real good in bed.” Just below a whisper, so only you’d hear, she titters, amused by your baffled expression.

“Oh my god, Amy!” You cease, slapping the back of your hand over her arm. “You should have texted me! Or knocked! What if someone else heard?” You whisper angrily, still slightly embarrassed. “Oh my gosh, did James hear?” You swallow thickly, rubbing a hand to your ached temple.

“Oh sweetheart, if he wasn’t snoring away I’m sure he would have heard too.” She laughs to your dismay. “Relax, our room was right beside yours. I’m sure no one else heard.” She assures, trying to provide some sort of comfort, but ultimately reverting to a deep, hearty fit of chuckles when she catches your nervous gaze once again. With a deep sigh, you escape her tease, leaving the kitchen with a few quick steps as you find your way back to John who sits by the window, still flipping through his newspaper. Slipping beside him, you sigh deep, before biting your lip.

“John,” You quietly alert, gazing around to make sure no one else would hear. His expression thickens, and his eyes fall heavier, sensing the unease to your features.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Groaning, you bite your lip again, sighing with a timid realization. “John, I think…” With your eyes focused to the ground, you bask, contemplating, sighing. It wasn’t the end of the world; Amy is your best friend; you both know practically every secret there is to know about each other in the history of ever. Yet, there still was a lingering mortification, a blush that crept to your cheeks when she’d spoke of the night prior.

John’s heavier hand strokes over yours, comforting. “What’s wrong, babe?” And with a final bite to your lip, you whisper, grasping his arm.

“I think we were a little too loud last night.” 

John’s cheeks flush pink, and a goofy smile casts his darker features. He smiles a timid grin, eyes downcast as he lightly chuckles a couple huffs, thinking back to the night prior. “Amy heard.” You whisper, barely groaning.

John’s eyes scan the room, before he takes hold of your arms again, drawing your body in closer. With a sultry voice, and that beautifully deep, crisp gravel of his tone you’d come to adore, he whispers into your ear, smiling. “Well, guess we’ll have to be quieter tonight.” He channels, as you bury your head into his chest, embarrassed, yet smiling to the sheer wit of the situation. “I do love a challenge.” John quietly adds, bringing his muscled arms around your figure, whispering a few chuckles into your hair.

And as you gaze up, catching his silly grin and pink cheeks blushed to a peachy hue, you smile,

and smile,

feeling the warmth of his stocky hand slip into the seams of your shirt, gently soothing over your back, as his lips pepper a gentle kiss to your hair, still smiling. “Darling, it’s nearly impossible for me to be quiet, 

when I’m with you.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away. 

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent. 

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.” 

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run. 

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.” 

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her. 

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises. 

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause.  After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says. 

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[ellana-ravenwood]

“It’s Alfred dayyyy” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Every year, every single year, your family reunites to celebrate the marvel that Alfred Pennyworth is.

Because Alfred does deserve his own “holiday” really. This has been sitting in my draft for almost two years, someone send me an ask that reminded me of it and I just suddenly really wanted to write it. I hope you’ll like it : 

my master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

Midnight, a new day :

“And we will be waiting for you at 8 am, your mom and I forced him to sleep in, but we all know he will be awake by that time anyway.”

“Ok, I’ll pick Jaybird on my way there.” 

“Jason is coming ?” 

“He said he would.”

“Oh. Good.” 

Dick did his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Oh. Good.” he says, as if the news didn’t make him wanna jump in joy. But of course, the Batman has a reputation to keep, if he showed too much emotions in one sitting, he’d probably explode. 

The truth was that if Jason was coming...Well if Jason was coming, it meant they were finally on the road to forgiveness. And Dick knew that Bruce had been waiting a long time for this. Bruce...and everyone else really. 

Especially you and Alfred. 

“In any case, be there by 8. We’ll do the usual. Now that I think of it, could you maybe pick up his cake at West Side’s bakery ? Your mother was going to do it, but if you pick up Jason...I think he lives in the area ?” 

Of course, Bruce knew exactly that Jason indeed lived not far from Alfred’s favorite bakery. Because he was keeping an eye on him. Not out of mistrust, or thinking he would kill again (he promised his mom, you, he would stop, but the promise was still recent, so was his return), but because...Well, it was his boy. 

Ever since Bruce adopted Dick, he never stopped worrying about his kids. He never stopped trying to keep an eye on them. It got even worst after Jason’s death...He was actually overbearing many times, which lead Dick away more than once. 

But he’d always be back. 

Just like Jason, eventually, would be fully back. 

For the moment, it was enough that he’d come by tomorrow. 

For tomorrow was the one and only...”Alfred day”. 

“Yeah sure, we can pick the cake up.” 

“Alright. Well. I’m going home, and you lot should too. We promised Alfred, after all. An entire day without any vigilante’s business. Unless there’s an emergency of course. Good night.” 

“’Night dad.” 

Bruce turns to his youngest kids, expecting them to follow him, but Damian says : 

“We’re right behind you, we’re just gonna hang out with Grayson a little more. Since he moved to Blüdhaven, we almost never see him...”

“Guiltripping me will not work little brother.” 

“Are you sure ?” 

Silence. And then Dick turns to his father : 

“I’ll get them home soon, we’re gonna go get some ice cream.” 

Bruce smiles, of this small genuine smile he only has when around his children. He nods, tell them not to stay out too late, and leaves, on his way back to you. 

12:30 pm, Batcave.

“You are late, Master Bruce.”

“Only by half an hour. I had to see Dick before coming back. Logistic talk.” 

As he speaks, Bruce takes his armor off, stretching a little after this short night full of not much happening. As if every villain in Gotham knew this day was happening, and they too would give a break to the butler (because if Bruce was resting, then Alfred could rest too). 

“Well it means you’ll have to start half an hour late tomorrow, this is the deal. Where are the children ?” 

“Alright. I will. And they’re getting ice cream with Dick. Now please, go to bed before she catches you up.” 

“Lady (Y/N) will understand that I was making sure you are home on time.” 

“She does understand yes, and she’s also telling you to go rest this instant ! You have slept even less than Bruce this past few days for god’s sake !” 

Both Bruce and Alfred jumps a bit as you enter the bat cave, smiling at them. Alfred raises his hands in a sign of peace, smiles at you, gives you a kiss goodnight on your forehead (a nightly tradition, by now...you never had a dad, and Alfred took it upon him to catch up lost time), and leaves. 

You turn to Bruce, and gives him your hand. 

He takes it gladly, a smile on his lips. The kind he only shows when around those he loves... 

A “glad you’re here” kiss, and a few words : 

“You know, my favorite thing about this day is that you’re home all day long, and I don’t have to miss you...” 

As usual, your words grip his heart, and his arms tighten around you. Even after years of being together, you could always make his pulse race with only a few words. Sometimes just a look...

He doesn’t resist or look back, when you give his hand a pull and leave the bat cave. 

Rare were the occasions Bruce would forget about his vigilante work. In fact, only one day a year, would he completely forget about it. Because he promised. And because it was a special day. 

A day to celebrate the man he came to view as his father. 

Alfred day. 

1 am, in “Giovanni’s 24/7 gelato” shop. 

The waiter of the place didn't even blink, as he served ice creams to a bunch of kids at 1 am, in the heart of Gotham. Used to it really. Nothing in this city was like any other place. Most people were night dwellers, even children.

Probably because, thanks to a certain group of vigilante, they all felt safer when the sun was down. 

“So, how did it start exactly, this Alfred day ?” 

Duke asks, after taking a full scoop of his favorite ice cream, curtesy of a certain Dick grayson. 

You had told Duke, about a week prior to it, that he had to clear his schedule for this particular day but didn’t really explain what it was exactly. Just that it was to celebrate Alfred. Not giving much more context. 

Dick smiles, and say : 

“How did it start ? Haha, oh man, it’s quite the story.” 

With an annoyed sigh, Damian says : 

“Just out with it already Grayson, we know, you were the only one that knew them by then blahblahblah.” 

“Do I sense a hint of jealousy, little bird ?” 

Damian doesn’t answer, but plants his spoon a little bit more aggressively in his gelato. Ah yes, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous that Dick had the luck to have their parents all for himself, once upon a time...Maybe. 

“Well anyway, legend has it that mom chose the date.”

Dick takes a dramatic pause, making the siblings who already heard the story (so everyone but Duke) roll their eyes. Their oldest brother had a flair for dramatic retelling of past events. 

“A long long time ago, on this day, when I was only 8 and just came into the family, they got into a bad fight. When I was little, before Jason came in, they got on the verge of breaking up a few times. Even did really broke up once, worst fucking time of my life, feeling like I was losing another family (A/N : referencing this story : The break-up)...”

A shot pause, this time, not for dramatics, but because the memory was genuinely painful and Dick had to take a short break. He continues : 

“So anyway, on this day, a long time ago, Mom discovered how vital Alfred was to this family. She said it’d been a day where she wanted to literally kill our father because he was so damn annoying, and overly brooding, and stupid – her words not mine- and that Alfred calmed her in just a few words. I don’t quite know what he told her, or what he told dad. All I know is that he told me that he wouldn’t let them break-up again over a stupid fight, and um, next thing I know, I’m avoiding the East wing for a few hours.” 

“Oh...Oh no Dick gross !” 

Dick chuckles, enjoying a bit too much messing with his little siblings. 

“Anyway, mom decided that Alfred deserved a day, in the year, where we would do everything HE wants because without him, our family would crumble. It just sort of became a tradition. So from midnight right now, to midnight of next day, no vigilante business. And we spend the day all together with him.” 

“That’s actually...a really sweet story ?” 

“It really is Dukie, it really is.”

“Dukie ?”

“Ah sorry, you’re part of the family now, which earns you a nickname from me. Jaybird. Timbo. Dami. Cass or Cassie if I feel like being a particularly doting older brother. So...had to find one for you. It was between Dukie and Dukester so-”

“Dukie is fine.”

Everyone snickers as Duke rolls his eyes, and then he asks : 

“So...What exactly are we gonna do ?” 

“Oh, well it’s simple. It starts at 8 am when we arrive, and we kick off with...”

4 am, Alfred’s bedroom. 

You open the door to Alfred’s room quietly, as you would sometimes to make sure your children sleep. 

This time, you were checking to see if the butler did really go to bed. One of the point of Alfred day, was that he had to feel perfectly fine, and he never had a full night rest ! 

So if you had to make sure he did during that time, then you would. 

Your children had came home a few hours ago, happy they had some time with their oldest brother. Dick had been away often lately, and they missed him...You knew they were gonna guilt trip him into buying them a snack. 

You and Bruce had had some alone time before they came home, that you definitely took advantage of...But for now, you escaped your husbands grip to come and check on Alfred, making sure he was sound asleep. 

And he was. Good. Perfect. He’d have a good night sleep. A full night of sleep. 

Quietly, you left the room again, unaware that a smile slowly rose on the Butler’s face... 

8:02 am, Alfred Day : 

Bruce is the one that opens the front door for them. They have their own keys, of course...but they both forgot them, as usual. 

They’d normally just climb through a window, or sneak into the backyard, knowing where all the security devices were (the back door was never closed because of this), but decided that for this day, they’d just ring the bell and come in the right way. 

Without much surprise, Bruce answers the door. It’d either be him or you, during Alfred’s day. Or anyone that wasn’t Alfred really. 

Dick and Jason move to remove their shoes (house rules, NO SHOES inside) and coats, while Bruce looks at them, waiting for them so they can all walk back to the kitchen. 

Jason is the fastest, and there’s this embarrassed silence between the three of them. Bruce smiles awkwardly at Jason, who looks away as soon as their eyes meet. With a “tt” very typical of his little brother, Jason says : 

“Don’t misunderstand this, I’m here for Alfred. And...For mom.”

“I know.” 

“Good.” 

“Yes.”

Silence. Awkward, as Dick takes way too long to untie his shoes, and pretend he’s not hearing anything.

Bruce knows what he’s doing. He knows his oldest son is trying to give him some more time “alone” with Jason. But he’s not really sure what to say...

“I’m um...I’m glad you came.” 

Good. That was good. Keep going on that path Bruce, that’s actually-

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going ahead, you know the way Dick.” 

Damn. Almost there. Almost there with an actual moment between them two. Dick sighs, and puts a hand on his father’s shoulder. 

“He’ll come around.” 

Bruce doesn’t answer, he exhales slowly and nods, not very convinced...But today was not a day to dwell on the bad. Jason and him would make this work, if only for today. 

Because today was Alfred’s day.

8h30 am, the Kitchen. 

The butler came down in the kitchen, well rested and pleased to be greeted by his entire family. Your smiles already made his day perfect, and if “Alfred Day” was done in this instant, he’d still be happy. 

“Sit down Pennyworth, we have made breakfast for you ! Well...Mom and father did...but we helped ! I was in charge of making tea ! And I think you will appreciate the way I brewed it. I followed an ancient Japanese recipe, and I reckon an aficionado like yourself will appreciate it.” 

Damian bloomed when he was with his family. To people who didn’t know him as well as his siblings and parents, he could seem like a petulant and arrogant child, but he was the opposite of that. 

He was insecure, and unsure. Scared of being left alone. And so to overcompensate all the fear instilled in him by years of abuse from his “grandfather”, the infamous Ras Al’Ghul, Damian could be quite a little jerk sometimes. 

But when he was with his family...He opened up. He smiled. And he spend hours trying to brew the perfect cup of tea for the grandfather he actually chose to have. 

“Bruce made your favorite Alf’, didn’t do half a bad job either -you smile at your husband, and give him a quick peck, which have the famous result of making your children make their best “ew” face-. You taught him well.” 

You say, smiling widely at the butler.

It’s true, Alfred did teach Bruce how to cook really well. People often had the misconception the billionaire was bad at housework, which was wrong of course. 

When his parents were alive, they’d insist he still had chores to do, so he wouldn’t be too spoiled. And when Alfred raised him, he taught him as much as he could so that the boy could hold his own. 

Bruce was a great cook (you could definitely attest to that, what with him cooking your favorite meals on date nights and all). And he always made Alfred’s perfect breakfast for his special day. 

“Jason and I just arrived so we didn’t really participate, but we picked up your favorite cake so it counts right ?” 

Dick says, a wide smile on his face. Oh master Dick, Alfred blessed the day this little boy walked in their lives. 

He wasn’t so little anymore, but he was always such a joy to have over. Even when he had his tantrum as a youngster (and now sometimes too, although he became better in controlling his burst of anger), Alfred couldn't help but love that child. 

The butler turned to Jason, who shyly smiled at him and...Alfred’s heart was full. 

“I am very happy to see you in this house, Master Jason.” 

He said, as he sits around the kitchen table. Jason’s cheek tints slightly of red, as they always do when he’s a bit embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

Jason was such a kind and sensitive child. He never quite got used to compliments, having been used to abuse and hate, and he would always blush under them. Alfred was glad to see that, even after the horror Jason went through, small things could still make his cheek turn rosy...

Jason sat down at the table, looking happier than he had in ages. 

“For you.” 

Cassandra said, settling in front of him a plate full of food, while Damian put the the cup of tea down. 

Sweet little Cassandra. It was always a pleasure to hear her talk. Poor little thing was never taught love, or even how to talk...Having you in her life greatly helped. Having a family, greatly helped. 

She still didn’t talk very often, but when she did, all of her words truly counted. She laid a small kiss on Alfred’s forehead, to bid him good morning, and went to sit in her usual spot, right between you and Damian. 

“You will be happy to know, Alfred, that all of our electronic devices have been off since midnight last night ! Yes, even mine. Promise !” 

Tim exclaims, smiling at him. 

Tim was the only one out of all of Bruce’s children to have entered this life willingly. The only one that came knocking at their door, just really wanting to help. 

Unfortunately, him too lost his parents over time (although they weren’t particularly great ones)...But the first impulse the boy had, was that he just loved Batman and wanted to give a hand ! 

Tim was selfless, maybe a little too much, and often worried you to death. He would get wrapped up in his projects even more than his father, and needed a constant reminder to take care of himself...task that you, Bruce, Alfred and his siblings would share gladly. He would give back anyway, working his ass off and putting his own life on the line for them any hour of the day... 

At the furthest side of the table from him, sat Duke. 

This was his first “Alfred Day”, and he was looking at things curiously, nonetheless happy to be here. 

Young Duke’s situation was a little special. His parents were still alive, and he still hoped they’d find a cure for their madness. Because of this, the boy would often distance himself on purpose from some family events, finding it hard to find his own place. 

This was one reason he didn’t wear the Robin mantel for long, and almost immediately went to be The Signal. It didn’t help either, that he was the only metahuman. 

And yet...Yet as the days went by, Duke felt more and more at home at the Manor, and would more and more hang out with everyone. More and more felt like he was truly part of the family, now. 

Of course, him moving to Wayne Manor was all very recent, and he needed time. Time that everyone was giving him willingly and gladly. Time to adjust and find his place. 

But here, sitting around the kitchen table bustling with activity and laughter, Duke felt like...he felt like this Alfred Day brought him one step closer to truly be a part of it all. After all, to him too, the butler had been nothing but great. 

Alfred had that talent, to congregate everyone around him... 

You felt happy, there, sitting amongst your children, your love, and the man you came to consider your father. 

Alfred had a good feeling, when he first met you. He knew. He knew you’d be the one to “tame” the bat, to not take his shit when he was being a jerk, and to give him unconditional love. 

“Unconditional”. 

It was important, to be in a relationship with a man like Bruce Wayne. 

But oh. Oh he was giving you back every bits of love you ever gave him, times a hundred. He let you in in his world, and had no intention of ever letting you go. 

Breakfast went by fast, as everyone talked away, and enjoyed each others company. 

It was very rare, nowadays, that everyone could be in the same place. At least one of them would be busy normally. But on this day...on this day they surely made sure they would be free. 

And so here they were, having breakfast altogether, happy. 

If only people from the outside could see this scene; If only. 

Then they’d know, just like Alfred knew, that this family was the strongest, tightest that ever existed, and that there was nothing but love between all of them. 

************

11 am, the theater.

Before the first “Alfred Day” happened, Wayne Manor did not have a “theater”. 

It had a “Ballroom number 3″. 

It was your idea, to turn it into a small theater, so that Alfred could perform for everyone. 

Over the years, you had realized that Alfred was actually a very talented actor. After all, he filled in Batman’s shoes many times, to pretend that Bruce couldn’t possibly be him. And he might’ve use his dramatic talent to convince you and the rest of your family to do what he wanted you to do...

Clever man. 

On Alfred Day, the first activity, after breakfast, would be to take part in a monologue of his. Usually shakespearian. But sometimes he’d come up with small surprises. He once recited the “heaven” part of the Divine Comedy by Dante, because he knew you loved that poem. 

It was absolutely brilliant, and you almost wished he had pursued an acting career instead of becoming the Wayne’s butler...but then, you would’ve never met him. 

By 11 am, breakfast would usually be done and it was time for a performance of a year. By that time, Barbara and Stephanie would’ve join. 

They didn’t live in the Manor, but they were close friend of the family. Friends that definitely knew how precious Alfred was to everyone. 

This year, Alfred decided to entertain you with a series of short monologues taken from a wide array of material, from Shakespeare to movies. It was fascinating. They all had their snacks as if they were at the movie theater, and were captivated by his performance. 

For Alfred, it was a way to relive his youth, working in London’s east end’s theaters. And to perform his hobby in front of a live audience. 

So sure, maybe said live audience might’ve been a bit biased towards him, but he knew their applause and praises were genuine. 

************

1 pm, East Wing living room. 

Lunch was always skipped, as you snacked too much during Alfred’s performance, and he was never hungry after he acted. 

You’d directly skipped to Alfred’s compliment session. 

He both loved and hated this time. Loved it because it was a treat to see he positively impacted his family. Hated it because it was never comfortable to just hear people compliment you The moment they gave him a cherished memory they shared with him...

Each year, one by one, they would tell him something he did for them that really was important to them. 

It was custom that the youngest would start. So Damian stood up, and said : 

“My memory this year, is one that happened not long after I came to live in Wayne Manor. I had just gotten into a fight with Tim, and been mean to mom as she tried to talk to me about it...I felt terrible. I felt like I would never be someone good. Pennyworth came in my room, ignoring me when I told him to get away from me. He settled some cookies for me, and told me a story of my father when he was young. Of how stubborn he used to be, and how sometimes, he’d say very hurtful things he didn’t mean...Alfred explained to me that it was normal to feel angry, when we’re hurt. That it was ok to not always be on our best behavior. That the people who love us will understand, and do understand. That they’ll still be there if they really care. Then he left, and I went to apologize to my mom. And she was there. I also apologized to Tim, and him too, was there...”

Damian sat back down, avoiding everyone’s eyes, as he felt too overwhelmed with feelings. You threw an arm around his shoulder, and he instantly hid his face in your own shoulder, acting like a little scared kitten who’d hide under his mom. 

It melted everyone’s heart, but nobody would say anything of course. This was between Damian and Alfred. 

It was Duke’s turn, and he was a little nervous, as it was his first time : 

“Mine is...Well...It’s going to sound so silly, after Damian’s heartfelt story, but one of my best memory with you Alfred, is when I first put The Signal mantel, and immediately hurt myself that night. I came back to the bat cave early, feeling shameful I couldn’t finish my patrol. You took care of my wound, and simply reassured me. It was just...soothing. I didn’t feel bad, as you stitched me up and calmed me down. I felt at peace, for the first time since my parents went mad...I can’t quite remember what you told me, as you just talked about random things, to calm me down. And it worked. As silly as it can sound, it worked. And that’s um...That’s when I started to feel good, here. Ok. That’s all.” 

Duke sat back down too, hoping Tim would start speaking soon. Thankfully, he did. 

“The memory I chose to share today, is one that is rather recent. I was struggling with some...self-worth issues. I felt like I could never fill dad’s shoes. Or Dick’s. Or Jason’s. Or anyone’s. I felt like I was trash. Like I was wasting away. I felt anxiety eating me up, and I was too scared to talk to anyone about it. Even to you, mom. I knew you’d find the right words, but I was just too scared you’d be worried about me. I know you worry a lot. So I didn’t say anything. Alfred walked in on me having a panic attack...and he helped me fight it. Then he scolded me because I didn’t tell anyone anything, and that it was a bad habit to always take all the burden on my shoulders. He then brewed me some tea, and talked about my favorite TV show with me to take my mind off of things...” 

Tim smiled at Alfred, and sat down. You reached for him, and squeezed his hand, making him understand you too, were there. And you worried about all of them all the time anyway so, ya know.

It was Cass’ turn now. Cass always had some interactive things, because she never spoke too long. She held up some drawings she had made (with the help of Damian). It represented her at a ballet recital (to which you all went by the way, and which was amazing. Cass was a talented little star). She gave the small comics to Alfred, took a deep breath, and said : 

“Thank you for helping me work on my dance, even when you were busy. You are a good teacher. For everything, from dance to how to make a perfect loaf of bread. I love your bread. I love your dance lesson. I love eating bread after our lessons. I love you more than bread. Even the sandwiches mom make with your bread and my favorite homemade jam.” 

She then did a few ballet dance move, and sat down again, holding her knees with her arms, and breathing deeply. It was still a difficult exercice for her, to speak. And to convey her feelings through words. It was always difficult, and quite an exploit that she said that much. 

Alfred smiled at her, before turning to Jason. 

“I’ll never forget the day you yelled at Bruce because he tied me up after I stole the batmobile’s tires. How livid you were, and how you threatened him to tell everything to mom. How he instantly looked scared at the idea of her being angry, and how you made him realize he went too far. How you were there, every step of my way adapting to life in a mansion, after living in the streets. But yes, above all, I’ll never forget the day someone stood for me for the first time, when you yelled at da-Bruce. When you yelled at Bruce for me.” 

He almost said “dad”. And that alone, was making Alfred’s heart happy. It was proof there still was some hope to salvage their relationship... 

“Ok, well I’ll be quicker than everyone else. And just say : you’re the best grandfather I could ever ask for.” 

With Dick, there was only two solutions. He would either go into a lengthy reenactment of a very specific event, or throw affirmations like that that would make Alfred feel tears coming to his eyes. 

Today, Dick decided on a short and sweet version, and it fitted perfectly. 

It was now your turn : 

“Every year, I’m reminded how vital you are to this family. And every year, it is tough to chose just one memory I love about you. I always have to think, because there’s so many. But I think this year, I will choose that time I said “yes” to Bruce after refusing his marriage proposal three times, and you screamed in happiness, through your broom across the room, and ran to hug me. It was so out of character for you, it makes me happy just to think about it. But I mean, I can understand the excitement...I was pretty content myself.” 

You smile, looking at your love, and he rolls his eyes at you, before smiling too. Of this pure smile he only shows you. And then he turns to Alfred, and tells him : 

“You made the loss of my parents bearable. Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’d probably turn...very dark.”

There was a small silence. 

Bruce’s speech was always short and to the point. 

And every time they were all done talking, Alfred would find himself with tears in his eyes. With those last few words from his son, this time didn’t escape the rule, and he found himself dabbing at the corner of his eyes. 

Damian’s next word released the emotional atmosphere as he looked at his father and said : 

“Tt, show off.” 

Everyone bursted in laughter, and this great day continued on... 

************

4 pm, interlude. 

This was Alfred’s few hours of utter peace. Everyone would leave him alone, and he could relax doing something he liked to do (usually reading or something of the sort) while not worrying about anyone. 

You’d give him space. It was very rare, for Alfred to be all alone with his thoughts, thoughts that he was forced to NOT have about his family. 

It was even rarer that he wouldn’t think about Bruce or you, or his “grandkids”. So in this day, when he knew none of them were doing anything dangerous, he took full advantage of it to relax his mind. 

In the meantime, you’d watch a film or two. 

Damian and Tim were in the process of choosing when Duke turned to Bruce, and a smirk on his face asked : 

“Soooo…I heard Alfred Day exists because you annoyed (Y/N) ? »

Bruce glares at Duke, ah he never quite likes to remember why Alfred Day exists…But before he can answer, you enter the room (you went to get some snacks for the movies) and exclaim :

“Don’t let Dick downplay how truly unsufferable he was that day ! Dick always manages to forgive his dad, and make things less worst than they are. It’s a talent really. Annoying doesn’t even cover how awful he was. He had one of those « dark days », decided he should break up with me for my own safety out of literally nowhere, yelled at baby Dick, was mean to Alfred saying he could fire him…I swear I could’ve slapped him.”

“You tried.”

“And if Alfred hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve succeeded. Anyway. Yes. You see, Bruce and I almost broke up that day because he was being really stupid, and Alfred...salvaged everything.”

“I was being stupid indeed...I almost lost...I...”

Sometimes, when he would remind himself of that day he almost went too far and truly drove you away, Bruce would feel almost like an anxiety attack coming over him. Because if he had lost you, and had continue on the path he was taking with Dick...Well he wouldn’t have had that second shot at having a family.

And it was enough of a frightening thought to be overwhelmed with anxiety.

“To be honest, I also was quite stupid. I can be stubborn too, sometimes. And there were time, at the beginning, where I wouldn’t try to be in your place...” 

You say, letting soothing fingers run through his hair, a motion you knew always relaxed him. Bruce instantly calmed down, as your kids made some disgusted faces at your closeness, and the incident was over. 

It was good, though, that Duke asked. First because it was actually pretty funny to think of the fearless Batman getting his ass kicked by his wife...but also because it was a good reminder to him of what he almost lost, and who he used to be. 

Alfred saved him. 

You saved him. 

His children saved him. 

And now, he could appreciate a relaxing movie time with all of you (minus Alfred, who was in his room, probably devouring the cake you got him (because yes, that cake was for him and him only), finally relaxed). 

The movie chosen, everyone took their usual spot on the massive couch, that Bruce had ordered specifically so that his big family could all fit on. 

At one point, both you and Bruce drifted off to sleep, in each others’ arms, and barely noticed your kids placing a blanket on you, rolling their eyes at how teeth rotting sweet you two were. 

6 pm, a walk through the park. 

Alfred loved Wayne Manor’s gardens. 

And he loved even more peacefully walk through them with his family. 

This was the time you were always reminded how massive the “backyard” was, when you’d go through acres of it. 

The kids would play soccer, baseball, football, or anything really. Alfred would often join. He was actually very athletic, and the kids would fight to have him on their team. 

You and Bruce would take part in it too, and your children would always make sure you’d be in the same team. Sure, sometimes you’d stop playing to smooch each others, like two damn teenagers...BUT, having you both on the same team would avoid triggering your crazy competitive minds. 

For some reason, whenever you had to play against each others, you’d both get very ruthless and petty, and it would often time get annoying (for real, you were forbidden to play UNO since a long time by then). 

You’d all spend some times outside, no matter the weather, enjoying a normal family outing. 

Alfred loved this time of the day. 

Because he loved the gardens, but most of all, he loved seeing his family being happy and together... 

9:30 pm, the dinner. 

Dinner was entirely prepared by you, and Alfred only had to come at the table and wait. 

By then, you had a perfect system that made it so the meal was prepped efficiently. It was Alfred’s favorite, of course. 

The table would be filled with all his favorite meals, prepared mainly by Bruce with you guys’ help. 

Your kids would pretend to be waiter in a fancy restaurant, and exaggerate everything, which was very funny. 

And you’d all share a meal, something that was quite rare, in this day and age. 

In fact, you were pretty sure that your entire family being reunited for a dinner happened max three times a year. For the holiday season, for Alfred Day, and for Batman day (you just thought it was funny to celebrate it). 

This was just a time to catch up, and to be together. 

Alfred would ask countless questions to everyone, and everyone would be polite and listen. It’d just be so nice, and relaxing... 

11:30 pm, almost the end. 

The day would end in the batcave, with everyone enjoying each others’ presence for a few more minute before you’d go back to a “normal” life. 

You’d talk about your favorite moment of the day, and how you always really liked “Alfred day”. 

And then it’d be over. Alfred would retake his butler position, and the Batman would prowl the streets of Gotham once more. 

You’d be their home support again, working the computer often, and you-

Ah. Yes. But not yet. 

There were still a few minutes. And it sounded like the perfect time for you to finally talk about a certain news...

You see, Alfred was the one you went to to vent. You loved your family with all your heart... But anyone knowing them just à little bit knew they could be à handful. And Alfred, he was always there. 

So it just seemed fitted for you, that you’d announce this news on that day. While everyone was around, and celebrating Alfred’s existence. 

Because what you were about to say, was one of Alfred’s dearest hope...

12:28 pm, 2 minutes before the end. 

You waited the very last minute, because you thought the effect would be even better. 

And as your husband and kids were ready to leave, you said : 

“Oh wait, I have one last thing to say on this very special day !” 

They all stopped, and turned around, looking at you. You smiled. Nervous, but happy. You knew that you and Bruce wanted this anyway, so it would be fine. And you knew your kids...your kids would be happy. For sure. 

But Alfred. Alfred would be over the moon. And so, without further ado, you said : 

“I’m pregnant !”

Bruce’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened dumbly. He froze on the spot, before smiling widely and starting to laugh stupidly. His first reaction was to go to Alfred, which you were expecting. 

Your children all reacted at the same time, rushing you like a wave of noise and excited screams and...pfiouh they could be overwhelming. 

Alfred was indeed over the moon. 

And he was the one calming your children, tearing them off of you so he could hug you, and give you some space, too. 

Because that’s what Alfred did. Take care of you. Of his family. 

And Alfred day, this year, ended with him looking at you and Bruce hugging tightly, overjoyed by the news of a future new little addition to the family. 

Up until next year, and this future baby’s first Alfred day...

_________________________________________________

Annnnd it’s 9:12 am, kept my promise to post something “today” haha. Probably not the best time to post. Buuuut...well, another sleepless night (or early morning, all about perspective really haha) of writing. I’m definitely back :). I hope you liked this story, I’m a little nervous after being gone for so long, I feel like I don’t know how to write anymore, and this is all very...mmmmbadhgezhe. I still do hope you liked it a little bit. 

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3. 

[wordsandshawn]

Midnight Drive

Here’s some fluff that has been sitting half-finished in my drafts for what feels like forever. I really like how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy!

|| message me || masterlist ||

word count: 1.5k 

The kind of tired you’ve experienced over the last six months since the twins were born is the type of tired you had never experienced before in your life. It’s the type of tired you didn’t think it was possible to feel. Pulling all-nighters to study for exams or staying up all night because of jet lag doesn’t even come close to the kind of exhaustion you feel now. 

Shawn took the first few months off after the twins were born, but he went back on the road when the twins were three months old. You’ve spent time on and off with him on the road because you and Shawn agreed that you wanted to keep your family together as much as possible. 

However, after a month on the road with the twins, you and Shawn decided together that it would best for you to return home and for him to finish out the next couple of months on his own. Traveling with the twins was more difficult than either of you imagined or could have predicted and it was taking its toll on both you and Shawn. With his attention divided between being a husband and father, helping you with the kids and also being a performer and putting on a show every night, it was affecting his performance in both areas. 

So after a rough month of traveling that wasn’t good for anyone, you and the twins returned home to Toronto. Shawn has come back home as much as he possibly could in order to be with you and spend time with the babies, but it still feels like he’s rarely ever home. You have your family’s support and Shawn’s family’s as well, but everyone has their own lives and jobs, and you could never ask them to drop it all to help you with the babies. 

You and Shawn have discussed the possibility of hiring a nanny, but you haven’t found the right person yet, meaning it has mostly been you and your twins for the past few months with the occassional visits from family members, and Shawn’s short breaks at home. 

Its nearing one am, and both babies appear to be wide awake for a reason you can’t quite comprehend. Both have just eaten and had their diaper’s changed/ You’re exhausted, but the decision basically makes itself when neither baby appears to be going to sleep. You don’t want to wake up Shawn, since he just got home last night, and he has to be feeling pretty jetlagged and exhausted himself. Trying to keep them as quiet as possible, you strap both babies into their infant car seats, hushing them and quietly talking to them the entire time, hoping they’ll be tired enough to sleep soon. You’re almost out the door when Shawn comes padding down the stairs. He seems only half awake, but he must have woken up, noticed you weren’t in bed, and come searching for you. When he sees the babies in their carseats, he seems to be more alert. 

“What’s going on?” He questions, rubbing his eyes then yawning. 

“I’m taking them for a drive.” You respond. 

“Now?” He questions, his eyes widening.

You just shrug, this isn’t the first middle of the night excursion the three of you have been on and you’re nearly certain it won’t be the last. Shawn knows that you sometimes take the twins out for drives when they’re fussy or won’t go to sleep because it’s one of the only things that actually calms them both down and almost always puts them right to sleep. He just didn’t know so much that you do it in the middle of the night like this. 

“Yeah, they’re wide awake and I can’t get them both down at once. It’s easier to take a drive. I got it Shawn, go back to sleep.” You say, putting both carseats back on the ground before closing the space between you and Shawn to hug him briefly. 

He hugs you back, but when he lets go, he doesn’t turn to walk back upstairs like you expected. Instead, he grabs the carseats, “I’ll take them, you go back to sleep.” He says determined. 

“No, it’s okay, Shawn.” You try to argue. 

He pauses for a second, the two of you, both tired just standing there at the foot of the stairs. “We can both go?” He offers, adding, “I’ll drive.” 

The suggestion sounds nice, so you immediately agree. Five minutes later, Shawn is backing out of the garage, both babies safely strapped into their carseats, and you get comfortable in the passenger seat, admiring your husband and hoping the babies fall asleep soon. 

Shawn turns the radio down so only soft sounds are coming through the speakers. The predictable movement of the car serves to not only lull the babies to sleep, but you find yourself dozing off as well. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, but you open your eyes with the intention of checking on the babies and telling Shawn its time to head back home, when you notice Shawn turning into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant. 

“What are you doing?” You question. 

He startles a bit, not realizing you had woken up, before saying, “I thought you were sleeping.” He pulls the car into the drive-thru lane that has only one car in it. You can only assume it is full of drunk and/or high college kids since the University isn’t far from here. You remember when that was you and your friends, but it feels like a lifetime ago now. 

“Remember when I first got my license.” Shawn reminisces. 

A smile crosses your face remembering being sixteen, but it turns into a frown. “And then you left for LA the next day.” You respond. 

Shawn smiles, shaking his head a bit. “Yeah, but when I got back. Do you remember that?” He persists, trying to jog your memory, to see if you still remember.

You can’t stop the smile that crosses your face. Of course you remember. “I don’t think my parents know about that to this day,” You shake your head at the thought of being a teenager and Shawn showing up at your house in the middle of the night because his flight got back late, after your curfew on a school night, so you weren’t supposed to see him until the next day.

It wsa close to one am when Shawn texted you saying he was outside, and he just really wanted to see you. Practically giddy with anticipation of finally getting to see your boyfriend again after two weeks, which felt like a lifetime back then, you snuck out, got into Shawn’s brand new jeep, and he took you through a drive-thru where he bought you french fries and ice cream. 

The car in front of you moves forward, and you glance into the backseat to see your twins both fast asleep. Shawn rolls down his window and orders a large fries and two ice cream cones. He asks for an extra cup on the side knowing about your strange way of eating ice cream, and then he turns to you, asking, “Do you want anything else?” 

You shake your head and he turns back to the screen, “That’s it. Thank you.” He tells the cashier. She lets him know the total, and he starts driving forward, pulling his wallet from his pocket. 

After Shawn pulls out of the drive thru, the bag with the fries in the console between you two, and you holding the two icecream cones, he parks the car in the parking lot on the side of the building. Both you and Shawn know that you could easily go back to the home you now share, with no threat of waiting parents to bust you for breaking curfew or to tell Shawn to go home, but instead, the two of you sit in the car, your two babies fast asleep in the backseat, reliving what had become your tradition back in high school whenever Shawn returned home from a trip. 

Once you got older and had more freedom, you stopped sneaking out to see Shawn in the middle of the night. And for the past few years, you only had to roll over in bed to be closer to him. You don’t even remember the last time you did this. It was definitely long before the twins were born, maybe even before you got married. 

Shawn hands you a spoon from the bag with the fries and you take it, moving some of the ice cream from the cone into the cup and then eating from the cone. Shawn just shakes his head a bit at your weird habit, but he still smiles. You and Shawn eat the ice cream and fries, quietly talking so you won’t wake up the kids. So much has changed since the two of you used to do this together, but you’re still every bit as in love with Shawn now as you were back them when you’d risk being grounded for breaking curfew if it meant you got a few stolen moments together. 

[ksyescribe]

Visitor (Shouta Aizawa x Reader)

Prompt: A certain Pro-Hero’s taken a liking to you. So much so that he visits you in the dead of night after particularly difficult patrols.

Ship: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Content: Fluff, That’s it I was feeling soft,

A/N: I had this idea WEEKS back but when I tried to rewrite it from the first draft to now it just didnt work out. Like I don’t know what the hell it was but it wasn’t coming together. BUT today that hurricane rain came in strong as hell and inspiration struck. Does it flow? I think it does. Does the tone stay consistent? Probably not but it’s part of the learning process. And honestly I loved writing it so whatever :’) I hope you guys enjoy it

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Few things in Shouta's life truly brought him peace.

He could list them off on one hand if he needed to: the cat cafe that sat on the outskirts of town, a good cup of coffee, the small cabin he owned in the mountains down south, and of course you.

Standing in the doorway to your kitchen, as you busied yourself with making two cups of coffee, he remembered why.

Things were simple with you. When he watched you like this, it was easy for him to pretend just for a second that the two of you lived an ordinary, domestic life. Together.

It's not that he didn't enjoy his hero work, quite the opposite; in fact, he loved it. But when you were around, it was almost as if he craved to settle down, start a family, and just live a normal life like any other civilian could.

But he knew better.

He wasn't a chart-topper hero like All Might or Endeavour, but he still made enemies for himself as he worked. Which meant no one close to him was safe from them as long as he was active.

Hell, his colleagues didn't even know of your existence. But that was mostly because Shouta only visited you in the late hours of the night. After rough patrols, when he needed to destress, he came to you.

It wasn't often. He didn't want to make it a habit of relying on you in case things went south. But, there were nights where his body ached to be with you, and he just couldn't turn himself away from your cozy apartment.

While he lost himself in thought as he watched you, you smiled to yourself as you whipped up some small snacks to go along with your coffee.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up."

The soft tone of his voice broke him out of his trance. It sent small tremors down his spine as a feeling he can only describe as "comfort" settled in the tired crevices of his body. He raised an eyebrow at your back, "How did you know I was here?"

You press your lips together, preventing a full-blown smile from spreading over your lips. Truthfully, you'd heard the click of your balcony door opening earlier. That, paired with the unknown feeling which had been sitting in the pit of your stomach, had alerted you of the Pro-Heroe's arrival.

Breathy laughter fell from your lips, "Just a feeling."

His eyes narrowed at your back as you put the last finishing touches on the drinks and food items at hand.

"What? Like a sixth 'Shouta instinct' or something?" he snorts.

Now, you let out small giggles, "Yeah, something like that."

And then you turn around, and for Shouta, the world stops.

He really should be used to it by now. Really, he should.

It's not like this is the first time he's seen you. He's seen you plenty of times before, but for some reason, it's almost like every single time is the first time.

His eyes drink in the contours of your face. The way sharp edges contrasted with softer curves. The shape of your nose, the quirk of your lips, the way your eyes light up when your gaze lands on him.

God, he's always overwhelmed when he sees you for the first time. His body screams at him to reach out and hold a hand against your face. He wonders if you'd nuzzle your face into the callouses of his hands or if you'd just simply smile at him, content to have him touching you in some sort of way.

The grip he has on his biceps tightens as he crosses his arms tightly to avoid reaching out to you.

He doesn't have that luxury.

You barely notice, still giving him a full-lipped smile as you move towards him with a full cup of coffee. In his 'special' mug nonetheless.

It's a simple little kitten mug you had picked up in some bookstore you'd been browsing. He'd been caught off guard when you presented it to him the first time, that he couldn't help the full-body laugh he had let out.

"I couldn't get a cat, no pets allowed in the apartment." You had said with a small shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Thought this would be the next best thing."

It had quickly become one of many items deemed as "his" within your apartment.

"Every night I get that feeling, you show up," you say as you elaborate on your previous statement.

You're standing in front of him now, an arm's length away, waiting for his hands to reach out so you can pass the mug to him.

"Every, single, time," you say as you push the mug into his outstretched hands, fingers brushing against his for a mere moment.

He inhales sharply as he feels your fingers brush his for that small second. Just that tiny brush has his skin on fire. His hands felt electric.

You look at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile as you hear him take a deep breath. You mistakenly assume it's to smell the coffee, "It's a new brew! It smells just divine, doesn't it?"

Shouta's not fond of overused cliches, but he can't help but think of the word "sparkle" as he looks into your eyes. The light reflecting off them showcases your intense joy. It felt infectious. He can feel himself soften even more as he takes in your expression. Your face practically radiates happiness as you look up at him expectantly.

"Yes," he breathes out, "Divine."

Your eyes widen a fraction at his reaction, a small trembling breath slipping past your lips. Your eyes drop as you feel your cheeks begin to heat up at the implications of his words. He can't possibly be talking about coffee with that sort of tone, right?

Clearing your throat quietly, you step back, turning around to collect your mug from the counter.

His fingers tighten around the mug as he watches the space between you grow again.

He hates it.

Hates keeping you at arm's length. He wants you with him.

Every second of every day. He wants you at his side.

It's a realization he's come to over the past few months of this arrangement. Coming to your apartment past midnight. You welcoming him with open arms, even going as far as feeding him.

He's fallen for you.

Despite the dangers of his life. Despite what he's done to keep this "relationship," the two of you have as platonic as possible. You've somehow managed to burrow yourself deep into his heart. In all honesty, he's not sure he wants to remove you from there.

It's why he hasn't stepped foot inside your house for the last few weeks. He needed to put some distance between you. Something to reduce the effect you had on him.

But now, standing here in your kitchen again. It seems like the distance only made his feelings stronger.

He's hopelessly in love with you, and he isn't sure what he can even do about it.

His attention is once again captured by you, as you gesture towards the table. Taking the hint, he moves over, seating himself in one of the unoccupied chairs. You across from him in the other, placing down a plate with food in front of him.

Silently, he dips his head in a small bow, thanking you for the food.

"Itadakimasu," you mumble before taking a sip of the dark liquid. Shouta mimics your actions, relishing in the warmth that the coffee provides him.

It's perfect. Sweet with just a tang of bitterness to keep him grounded.

The two of you sit silently. Picking off items from the plate as you continue to sip your drinks.

You're the one who breaks the silence.

"Did" you pause before continuing, "did I do something?"

Shouta pauses for a mere second, his lips centimeters from the rim of the cup as he takes in your stuttering inquiry. Then, he takes a sip before raising an eyebrow at you, "What do you mean?"

You gaze down at the dark liquid, your fingers fidgeting around the mug as you gather up the courage to speak again.

"I just," you let out a small sigh before continuing, "Before tonight, you hadn't passed by in weeks."

He watches as you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening them once again. Your gaze finding his.

"I just wanted to know if I did anything to offend you..." you trail off hesitantly.

Once again, Shouta's reminded of how beautiful your face is. Even with concerned features, the beauty doesn't leave your face at all.

His head begins to shake, "No. You didn't do anything. Trust me."

Already, the creases of worry begin to disappear from your face.

"Then, what is it?" you ask as you tilt your head at him.

He brings the mug back up to his lips. Taking long sips, he buys some time to think of an excuse. What can he even say to you?

"I..." he trails off, racking his brain for anything. God, he's usually so fast with his kids, but it seems like that's nonexistent with you.

But he doesn't get a chance to respond before you blurt out, "If it's because of me, I promise that you aren't an inconvenience!"

You lean forward on your elbows as you speak quickly but quietly, "I swear! I may be quiet because it's past midnight, not that there's anything wrong with you showing up at this hour, but I promise I really enjoy your presence. I mean, it's nice to have someone to talk to. It gets lonely around here, and I'm always looking forward to your visits. I really like you, you know?"

Shouta manages to keep his expression passive, but he can't help but inhale sharply at your declaration.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you let slip out. That sets you off on another talking spree.

"O-Oh my god I didn't mean to. I just, I mean, you're a wonderful person to be around. You're good company to have around. Not that anyone's saying you're not good company. I just, oh god, I'm so sorry for making this awkward. You don't have to say anything I promise I'll just drink my coffee in silence and you can lea-"

Shouta's hand on your wrist causes you to stop abruptly. He holds your gaze over the rim of his cup as he takes another drink. He's not saying anything, but still, you feel your cheeks burning. God, he probably thinks you're an absolute idiot.

Quietly he places the cup down, raising an eyebrow at you, "So, you like me?"

If possible, the warm sensation on your cheeks gets stronger. He's trying to get a reaction out of you, and it's working.

"I-I..." you stutter out weakly. But he's already shaking his head at you, a sly smile on his face.

"It's okay, kiddo," you scowl at the despised nickname he calls you, "I'm fond of you too."

"I'm only five years younger than you!" you retort back.

"Is that what you decided to focus on?" He strokes long lines along your wrist as he smirks at you, waiting for you to counter.

You're so thrown off that you can't respond. Instead, you open and close your mouth as you try to formulate a response. Your brain's still trying to process his confession.

He tilts his head at you, "So, you want to know why I haven't been coming around these past few weeks?"

Not trusting your voice, you nod slowly at him.

"Well," he clears his throat, his eyes dropping to where his hand is resting on your wrist, "there's no reason for me to beat around the bush, so I'll just come out and say it."

Your eyebrows pull together as you look on curiously, sensing the shift of his tone.

"I stopped coming around because I felt like I was getting too attached to you." His eyes flick back up to yours, watching as you try to decipher what his words mean.

You knew that Shouta was an independent man. Lived alone, worked alone, fought alone. He held everything he needed to survive and fight within himself. So you can understand that distancing himself from something when he became too dependent would be logical. But, you didn't think that applied to people too. Regardless, why would depending on people be such a bad thing?

He watches as you lose yourself deep in thought. You're mouthing inaudible words as you confusingly work your way through the ideas in your head. He figures you'll need a helping hand to make sense of it all.

"What I mean to say is," he watches your eyes meet his, "I started to develop feelings for you. Knowing my track record, with villains and all, I thought it'd be best to put some distance between us."

Immediately you're sitting up straighter, the mood in the room shifting quickly.

"That isn't your decision to make." Your eyes bore into his, all traces of playfulness and nervousness disappearing from your face, "I know what your work entails. I know it's dangerous, but I don't care. I'm the only one who gets to decide if something is too dangerous for me to handle. You don't get to do that for me."

In his grasp, you turn your hand over, as you slide your pal up to meet his. He watches as you interlace your fingers together. Your fingers filling the gaps between his perfectly.

"And I already decided a long time ago that being with you is worth it." You squeeze his hand reassuringly as you finish talking.

His gaze trained on where you're joined together. There's an indescribable emotion unfurling deep within his chest. His eyes flit back up to meet yours, determination shines clearly within them.

"I have enemies. People who want to harm me. They'll come for you too."

"I know," your gaze never wavers, "and I don't care. Let them come for me."

He'll die before he lets any of them come near you.

"I'm constantly working. If it's not school, then I'm patrolling."

"I know, and I don't care. My schedule's changing weekly. It doesn't bother me."

"I can't give you a normal relationship."

"I don't want normal. I want you."

Empty mugs and dinnerware sit between the two of you. Your hands are still joined together in the middle of the table.

You hold each other's gaze, attempting to decipher the emotions that swirl within your eyes. Shouta's hesitation shines brightly within his. He's not sure if he wants to drag him down into this world with him. Your determination doesn't falter, but now there's hope that mixes with it. You're not scared of this. He's a good man, and you'd risk anything to stand at his side.

"It seems like you've thought about this a lot."

You nod at him, "I have."

He nods silently, eyes flickering back to your hands, "Well, since it's your choice, what do you want to do? Now that you have all the facts, that is."

You take a deep breath, a smile finding its way onto your lips, "I want you to go out on a date with me."

He lets out a breath of laughter. You sure don't waste time. "I'm free next Saturday. But let me tell you, I'm not particularly fond of those over the top places."

You snort, waving him off with your free hand, "Luckily for you, I'm not either."

You give his hand a small reassuring squeeze, glancing at him, "Saturday at 8?"

"Saturday at 8."