#Bertram reader insert

[ellana-ravenwood]

The Wrath of a short woman - Bruce Wayne x Reader

So it’s late and I’m quite tired but I really wanted to write this so...Yeah. Written in 7 minutes (in two part, like I started to wrote it late at night yesterday, finished this morning), by a very tired Ella (you know I’m tired when I’m referring to myself with the third person), I hope you’ll like it, especially you @homework-is-the-real-killer : 

Yes I know he’s more around 6′2″/6′3″ in the comics, changed it for a few reasons, the first one because I wanted the reader to really be average sized, cause I think it’s funny that they’d all call her “short” when she really isn’t HOWEVER I’ll write a story soon with his actual height and and actual really short reader, like around 5′0″ or under :-). Boom. 

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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-You can’t fight me, you’re miniature. 

As soon as those words get out of his mouth, he regrets it. Oh and by the look on your face, he knows he’s right to...

-What did you say ? 

-I mean...You...I...Hum....

The Batman is nervous. You made the Batman nervous, with your glare and the hint of danger in your eyes. You approach him. Him and his damn giant frame. 

He’s not wrong, of course. You are miniature. At least compared to him. With his 6 foot 7, he’s towering quite high above you but...he’s not entirely right. 

You can totally fight him, and oh you will.

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

You know you’re short. 

Well...That’s not exactly true. 

You know you’re short compared to your husband and sons. 

Hell, even compared to Alfred. The butler was actually quite tall. You always had to twist your neck up to look at him in the eyes while talking to him.  

Your height is actually average for a woman, but your husband is a damn giant, and your sons are too. 

Bruce is over a good foot taller than you, and so is Jason. Dick is exactly 10 inches taller, and Tim around 7. But it’s really when your youngest son, Damian, your baby, your eleven years old little boy started to rise above you of almost 2 inches that you realized that...Well, yes. 

In this family, you were a short one.  

This spurred a few teasing, and some “you’re so cute my tiny mom/wife” but nothing more (mostly because your sons and husband were afraid of your sarcasm and wits), just nice little jokes that made you feel loved for your shortness...

But you had to admit that sometimes, them being so tall and you not being a supermodel sized woman...could make things a bit awkward. 

You were thinking about that, sitting in the Manor’s library. 

About how Bruce always had to bend down to kiss you, and you had to go on your tip toes to be able to reach when he bend down. 

How when paparazzis were taking pictures sometimes you wouldn’t even be on it because they only had Bruce’s back and he was somehow shielding you with his massive frame (that, was a good thing)...

How even when you had high heels on, you still wouldn’t be tall enough. 

How sometimes it got you in kind of embarrassing situations, like when people wanted to take official photos of you and somehow there was a problem and your entire body would be cut off, looking like a child standing next to your husband...You were pretty convinced some photographers did that on purpose because they thought it was funny. 

You actually remember a few instances of articles in magazines or such with the title : “Bruce Wayne and his tiny wife take a walk on Gotham’s docks” (but you weren’t tiny ! He was tall...you never saw a “(Y/N) Wayne and her gian husband” thing) or something like that. 

Your thoughts got cut right off as you heard the library’s door open and..Well, speaking of the devil, Bruce entered, scanning the room with his eyes, smiling as he sees you sitting in your favorite chesterfield armchair. 

-I knew you’d be there. 

-Oh but you really are the greatest detective ever aren’t you ? 

He smiles some more at your teasing (you spend most of your free time in the living room with your boys, or if you wanted to be alone, in the library, it wasn’t difficult to know where you were), he approaches you slowly. 

You put the book you were reading (before all that thinking about your shortness) on a side, and sit up straight, as he lays his hands on each arm of the chair and bends down, down, down...a little bit more, to finally kiss you softly. You think that, from an outer perspective, his position must look ridiculous...

You cup his cheek and caress it slightly, and he leans in your touch and...Oh god you love that man. You love the fact that when alone with you, he always seems to let go off everything. Of his worries, of his sadness, of his darkness and broodiness...

-How are you today ? 

-Better now.

He kisses you again and, as often between you two, the kiss turns heated. In his passion, Bruce completely forgets his hands are on the armchair and...he slips and falls on you. 

He manages to somehow catch himself and do not fall with his full weight on you (which is good, cause you’re pretty sure he would have crushed you with all those damn muscles), but still falls on his knees, his arms on each side of you, and his face goes straight between your boobs (”oh, nice cleavage”).

He’s about to apologize when...the sound of your laugh makes your chest vibrates, and you can feel him smile on your skin as he he straightens up (not before kissing between the valley of your breast though). 

Even as he’s on his knees, he still is taller than you and, nicely settled between your legs you can’t help but sigh when he has to bend down once again to reach your lips. He stops, and pulls away a little bit, he takes your arms and puts them around his neck before he rests his hands on your thighs and asks : 

-What is it my love ? 

-It’s just...You’re...i’m...

You can see worries starting to well up in your Bruce’s eyes, and you have to immediately reassure him. It’s not a big deal, it’s not important, you say : 

-It’s totally silly really. It’s just that you’re so damn tall, and I guess I’m short and...

His laugh cuts you off and you can’t help but pout a bit, you take your arms away from around his neck and cross them, looking away. You know it is indeed silly, but you’re also vexed that he’d laugh like that. Especially since it’s a genuine tonitruant laugh...

-Oh...Hahahahaha...don’t be like that my (Y/N),  I...HAHAHAHAHHAAHA.

You push his face away as he tries to come and nuzzle your neck, letting out a sigh of annoyance, and your pouting gets even more childish. Oh you hate how he’s the only one that can annihilate all your sarcasm and sassiness and makes you blush and feel like a kid...You also kinda love it. 

But you’re just unable to stop him from wrapping his arms around your waist, and laying his head on your stomach as his body shakes with laughter. You just can’t push him away and act all vexed and all, because he’s just...so..;damn...tall...and...strong...

It takes him a few minutes to stop laughing like crazy, and finally, he pulls away, still kneeling down between your legs. Wiping away the tears in his eyes, he smiles at you and is about to approach you and kiss you once again but your hands on his face stops him. 

-Go away, you and your tall ass. 

He snorts (and yet still manages to make it sounds sexy...a sexy snort...really, damn that man and his perfectness) and starts to pull away...you catch him by the sleeve, and he turns his goddamn smug face towards you before saying :

-I thought you wanted me to go.

-I...You...I...

What you grumble then is completely unintelligible and it makes him smile fondly at you as you avert his gaze. He comes closer once again, and this time you don’t stop him. He lays his forehead on yours after kissing your nose tenderly and in a whisper he says :

-But my love, if you weren’t short, I couldn’t do this. 

-Do wh...

You don’t have time to finish your sentence as he lifts you in the air, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist. Your mouth is aligned with his in this position, and oh it’s definitely one of your favorite thing about being kinda short : the way he can just sweeps your feet away, quite literally. 

And as you both walk towards your shared room, you can’t help but think that yes, sometimes, being short comes in handy. 

You wave at Tim and Damian that you meet on your way to your bedroom, and they quickly run away, disgusted out of their mind by their parents’ love. Ew.

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

Bruce is putting his clothes back on, as he has an important meeting at Wayne inc in less than an hour, and smiles at you as he can see your reflection in the mirror. You’re trying to act as if nothing happened but oh god whenever you and him make love, it’s always something...And you always end up completely shaken. To the core. 

You smile weakly at him and, wrapping your naked form in the sheet you walk to him to put your own clothes back on. Or your pyjamas, after all, you have no plan on going out of the Manor today (lucky you). 

You brush his arm as you pass by and...he grabs you by the waist to bring you flush against him. The sheet falls down, to his great pleasure, and he gives you the sweetest kiss on your forehead. 

-Thanks for that my love. I needed to wind out a bit...

-Oh, thank you my Broosh, you did most of the work today. 

He chuckles lowly and just looks at you with so much love and awe that...well, you blush. Only him can make you blush easily, after all this years of marriage.

-You’re underestimating yourself again (Y/N), you did more than enough. You always do more than enough, and not only when we’re in bed. 

You smile weakly at him, still blushing. He always praises you so much every day, and it always makes you feel so damn happy, but also awkward. You will never think you deserve him...which is exactly why he  makes a point of telling you all of that each days. Even when away on a mission. Hell, once he was on Apokolips and managed to send you a text stating : “I love you so much, and you’re so beautiful, that I’m sending this while punching monsters in the face” (it made you smile, even though you were dead worried for him...he always knew what to say to reassure you). 

You’re about to make his heart go wild with one of your cheesy line but he doesn’t let you say anything and continues : 

-Oh I love you my gorgeous (Y/N)..even if you’re really extremely short. 

What ?! Oh well the mood is ruined now. You pull away from him and his smug face makes you want to hit him...Which you do, you hit him lightly on the chest, creasing your eyebrows, and say :

-Bite me Bruce. 

-I already did. 

-Imma kick you in the face. 

-You’re too short for that. 

-Imma kick you in the nuts. 

-Perfect height for that I do admit. You could headbutt me there...or, you know, you could do something else. 

His wink is insufferable and, rolling your eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh you say : 

-Oh my god Bruce don’t push it ! I’ll fight you ! 

-You can’t fight me, you’re miniature. 

And here we go. 

You can see in his eyes that he is regretting saying that, because he knows what you’re thinking. He knows you just took his words as a challenge. And when you take a few steps back from him, in your naked glory, and that look shines in your eyes...he knows he made a huge mistake. 

He knows you have a mean right hook, after all, you already got him with that a few time, long ago, when he had the awful idea to make you jealous on purpose (granted, he wasn’t ready for you to hit him, and still wondered how your fist could even reach for his face anyway...). 

Almost imperceptibly, his footing changes, and he’s now in a fighting stance, ready to counter anything you could do and...oh but he wasn’t prepared for what you had in mind. 

It’s one of the things he loves the most about you, and you always end up surprising him, how every day is different because he always discovers something about you that makes him fall in love even more with you (as if it was possible). And as he stands in front of you, in a beautiful tux, ready to “fight you”, you take him by surprise yet again. 

Oh you were short uh ? Well yes, and again, sometimes, it could come in handy. You slip under his parted legs (fighting stance) and he doesn’t have time to turn his entire body, only his head is trying to follow you, before you jump on his back, locking his neck in a perfect key (and if he wasn’t so stunned by what you just did, he would have been so proud of you because you re-did what he taught you perfectly). 

-I can’t fight you cause I’m miniature uh ? 

You say, tightening your grip around his neck, your legs around his waist. 

Of course, you know he could get rid of you very easily, he’s the goddamn Batman, if he can get rid of Bane, he can totally throw you away too...but you also know he would never hurt you and he’s too afraid to injure you in any way to actually defends himself right now. 

He turns around and tries to unwrap your legs from around your waist but...oh he shouldn’t underestimate your strength. He knows that. And it’s way more difficult to do that he thought, especially since yes, he really doesn’t want to hurt you, and he knows that if he forces to much he could break both of your damn pretty legs...But he is the goddamn Batman, and a plan comes quickly to his mind, as he can feel your lips leaving way too many love bites on his neck (how is he gonna hide those ?!). 

He walks toward the bed, and in an expert movements, manages to untangle you from him, tearing you away from his body in one swift move, and pinning you on your shared bed. 

You giggle as his locks your wrists in his hands above your head, and his legs push on yours so that you really cannot move, not matter how you try to wriggle away. Hot. 

And oh he kind of regrets the training in fighting he gave you because you somehow manage to slip one leg away from him (from him, the Batman !) and you press your knee in between his legs. He takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm and collected, even though it’s almost impossible with you pushing your knee right there...

-See Broosh, I could have hit you right in the nuts. Definitely not too short to fight you, my heart. 

He smiles and is about to to say something but your knee grinding into him fogs his vision and shuts him up. 

-And I’m definitely not to short to get a reaction out of the mighty and usually so stoic Batman...

Still pinning you on the mattress, your knee between his legs driving him crazy, he says, almost out of breath : 

-Oh I definitely never said otherwise...and mea culpa my tiny love, you can definitely fight me. 

His lips come down to brush against yours and...All Hell break loose. 

Bruce has a fleeting thought about how he shouldn’t do this, because he does have an important meeting at Wayne Inc...But oh the feel of you around him makes him forget, and in a second, his suit is off. 

They’ll just have to wait...

Fin.

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Terrible. Oh my. 

[swellwriting]

What do we do now? Part 10

Part Ten - Home

A/N: WOWIE this it is...the LAST PART. I'm kind of sad to say goodbye to this series, I spent a lot of time writing this and Thursdays just won’t feel the same anymore… I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do. CHEERs to happy endings!!!!

Word Count: 4k     Series Masterlist

It took a while for Mini and Remus to feel comfortable living in the cottage. So many things felt wrong all the time. Everything in the cottage didn't belong to them, it was all Bertrams and he wasn't there, it left this hole, this empty feeling. 

Sirius had also left, Y/n took that hard as well too, Sirius reminded her of James and it was nice to have him around for that short time. When she found herself alone and scared Sirius showed up, she felt like he needed protection but how could she help keep him safe if he had just left with no detailed explanation.

Sirius said he was going to get Harry but they had no idea of what that entailed? They didn't want Harry hurt, they didn't want to get Harry back in some illegal kidnapping situation, so they just tried to find things to calm and distract their minds.

There were a lot of things to be done in the house too, the Aurors completely missed clearing out the storage room upstairs, Y/n and Remus were scared to even go in there because they weren't sure what was inside, but they did need to clear it out.

If Sirius did manage to get back to them, with Harry or not, he would need a room, a hidden one like the storage room was perfect because then the Ministry didn't know it existed. Y/n stood in front of the door she had just opened and was hesitant before walking in.

“What's the worst that could be in there?” Remus asked with a laugh as he walked past her into the room looking around, “I didn't see any Dragon eggs at least.”

“Thankfully.” Y/n hummed as she picked up some of the bottles reading them. They must have been extremely lucky because every potion they found was just a regular kind, nothing illegal was stored in there. Remus sent the potions into the basement were Y/n was organizing them by alphabetical order and taking stock of what they had, they even moved the brewing station to the basement since they now had Y/n there who could actually put it to good use. Remus eventually made his way into the basement to see she had moved everything to one side of the main room, she had her arms crossed, deep in thought.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“Well, we need more rooms and if we put a wall here and split this room in two, so the storage is here and then the far half over there can be a room. That way it's still attached to the bathroom down here.”

“I didn't even know there was a bathroom down here.”

“It's not bad actually, the cleaning supplies must have found it back when we cleaned so it's pretty nice.” Y/n commented as she took out her wand and then looked at Remus for confirmation.

“I think it’s a good idea go ahead,” he encouraged and she smiled, silently casting spells and bringing up a wall, adding a door to match.

“Who do you think would live down here?” Y/n asked.

“If Bertram ever comes back I imagine he’d like living in the basement, if not we can always give him his room back and move down here,” Remus suggested and Y/n nodded, pleased with that idea.

“Sounds great. So Basement for Bertram, Sirius can have the storage room once I fix it up and then we take Bertram's old room?” She asks and Remus nods taking out his wand.

“What about Harry?” He asks and Y/n’s smile fades.

“We can worry about that if it happens, I'm not getting his room ready just to have him never come here, I've done that with Lily before and doing it again while being uncertain would hurt too much.”

“Okay that's fine, worry about it when it happens, sounds good.”

“Are you gonna bring Bertrams things down here?” She asked and Remus nodded, flicking his wand and making all of Bertram's things move from upstairs perfectly.

Sirius’ room was next but they had no idea where they would get the furniture from, building a wall and moving existing furniture was easy but designing a whole bedroom was a bit more work. They found an old Truck in the garage and took it into town to a thrift store and bought a bunch of second-hand furniture, after giving it a good magical cleaning both Sirius’ room and Y/n and Remus’ were good to go.

After setting up their new room, Remus was sitting on the bed relaxing looking around the colourful and comfy looking space. It was nice to have this place that they could sort of call their own after so long of being on the road and sleeping in cars or motels or the couch.

Y/n crawled up the bed hovering over Remus and placing a teasingly slow kiss on his lips that eventually turned more heated until there was a knock at the door disrupting them both. Y/n pulled away with a wicked smile, “better go see who that is.” She chimed but she was actually very anxious as to what it would be about.

She opened the door quickly, wasting no time in asking who it was, she just wanted to know right away.

Davey Gudgeon stood there, an excited smile on his face clearly bearing good news of some sort.

“Hi Y/n,” he greeted and she opened the door for him to come in.

“Hey, Davey. Is that Bertram’s trial date you have there?” She asked noticing a large amount of paper in his hands.

“Oh yes, I guess I can start with that. So I was going to come here and bring you the Notice of Trial so you could attend but then it got moved up this morning and I didn't have time to contact you. But I have good news! He was charged with willful negligence, which in a nice way means he was charged with being too stupid to know that what he was doing was wrong and his lawyer also used his grandmother's recent death as a reason for stress and rash decision making since he lacked guidance. When he was asked how he would live life without recommitting if he ever got released he stated that he no longer lived alone, he now had two other adults living with him who were smart because they both graduated with honours from Hogwarts. The judge seemed to like that so Bertram got sentenced to five months in a low-security jail in Ireland and then if you sign a deal saying you will be taking up permanent residence here the house will be transferred into yours and Remus’ names and you will be charged with the duty of sort of watching over Bertram, this, however, does not make you liable for any crimes he commits, if he recommits he will probably be sent to Azkaban or something.”

Remus had walked into the room, listening to the news of the trial.

“So I just have to sign here and we get ownership of this cottage and Bertram.”

“And all of the things inside as well. But you don't need to sign it now, I’ll leave you with this copy of the trial record and I’ll come by tomorrow to pick it up and see if you guys wanna sign, you won't be forced to of course.”

Remus took the trial record and skimmed through the bound pages. “We will give it a good read through later tonight,” Remus said as he placed the paper on the table beside the couch.

They both expected Davey to leave but instead, he stood there smiling awkwardly unsure of how to say his next piece of news.

“Is there something else?” Y/n asked as she tried to read the document in his hand.

“Yes, it's a long story but it’s about Harry Potter.”

“Is he okay?” Y/n quickly mumbled out in a panicked worry.

‘Yes, we have him in custody right now, he's very safe. We got a call from a neighbour stating that they were worried about his safety, we sent in some Aurors to investigate and they found his living conditions, diet and low levels of interaction to be, well criminal. He's still merely a baby, he's not even two yet. So we took away their custody. His next family member, who honestly should have been chosen before those Muggles ever were, is you Y/n.”

Y/n’s lip quivered, her hands shook at her sides as tears threatened to spill at the thought of getting Harry back, of getting full custody of him. But her heart also broke at the thought of how he was being treated.

“I can have him?” She whispered and Remus came up behind her, wrapping a hand around her lower back and pressing her side into him, he used his other hand to steady her shaking one, offering her silent comfort.

“Yes, Y/n. Just sign here and I can bring him here, bring him home to you, tomorrow.”

She let out a deep breath and a shakey cry, almost falling to the ground, she was so sure she would never get to see Harry again.

“Where do I sign?”

After signing Davey apparated away and Remus was quick to wrap Y/n in a hug, her legs gave out but he was holding her well enough that he held her up.

“I can't believe it.” She whispered against his neck, he barely heard it.

“Neither can I, it’s okay.” He tried to calm her, bringing her down to the couch and then pushing her hair out of her tear-stained face.

She smiled at him and then moved onto her knees and then onto Remus lap, smiling widely at him before going in for a sweet kiss. The kind of kiss where you're just so filled with love you can't help but want to kiss someone, and luckily a kissable someone was right in front of her.

Their kiss was passionate, slow and comfortable, they had gotten pretty good at it now. Nothing like the fast and needy ones they sometimes shared but far past the worried gentle ones they started with.

She didn’t have to worry about whether or not she should kiss him, or if he wanted to kiss her, they were comfortable now, Remus was her home and their home just got bigger with the addition of a much-missed member.

-

Y/n couldn't sleep for the whole night, she was too excited to finally see Harry again. Remus had gotten up at one point and made her drink lavender tea but it did nothing to help. She laid there all night cuddled up to Remus drawing circles on his bare skin as he slept peacefully. The full moon was coming up and he was way too tired to stay awake with her.

They had a long conversation about it all before bed. How safe it would be for Harry here. There were a few things that made the cottage not safe for him, one being the cottage itself filled with secret rooms, nearby water and the forest with many wild things living in it. But also the people were a bit worrisome, in the eyes of a nervous Remus who only wanted the happiest and safest life for his best friends’ son.

Harry would live there with Y/n, who was very safe all around but also with Remus who was everything a great father figure should be but he was also a werewolf. Sirius, if he came back, was an escaped prisoner of Azkaban and the person people blamed for the death of his parents and then Bertram who was a complete mess of a person but would probably make Harry laugh more than anyone so he would be great, in a few months when he gets out of prison of course.

Y/n and Remus had ultimately decided the werewolf thing would not be an issue like it would have been before. They were no longer living poverty since they took over Bertram’s legal side of his potions business and it also meant that they could brew their own wolfsbane, there was also a room in the basement they sectioned of for Remus to go in during full moons, with two charmed locks for Harry's safety, if he is anything like his dad he will try to find his way to sneak in there.

Everything was good, it was getting better but feeling okay brought a pang of guilt to Y/n’s heart as she laid there in bed overthinking everything.

It wasn't fair in the slightest. Lily and James died, they had their happiness stolen from them and there was nothing Y/n could do to make that right. What did she get out of it? She lost everyone she loved dearly at first but since then she has managed to fall in love, make two new close friends and she even gets Harry back, how is it fair that after James and Lily lost everything Y/n gained it all. 

Not to say she didn't have it before, she was content having James and Lily in her life and she would give up this life for her old one in a second if she could, if she could bring James and Lily back. But she had to accept that the past had happened and it couldn’t be changed and she was making the best of it, for them. She would raise their son in a loving home, she would make sure he knew how much his parents loved him, she would tell him everything about them when he asked. She hoped to do them justice.

-

The morning was a blur, Y/n was running on mere minutes of sleep and however many cups of tea Remus had brought her and placed in her tired hands. Her eyes drooped as she sat sideways on the couch watching the door.

“You look exhausted, maybe you should sleep and I’ll wake you up when they get here?”

“No.” She argued shaking her head slowly. “I’ll sleep when he gets here.”

“I know Harry isn’t exactly a baby anymore he was a little over one year old when we last saw him a few months ago, he’s almost two now and I've heard two-year-olds don't enjoy sleeping all that much.”

“That's what you’re for!” She teased as she leaned up kissing his scruffy cheek.

Before he could further try to convince her to go get some sleep there was a knock on the door and Y/n jumped up opening it quickly to see Harry in Davey’s arms and a small bag beside him.

Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of him, he was still so small, he looked too tiny like he hadn’t been given enough food for the few months he was with the Dursley’s.

She opened her arms and Harry’s eyes lit up, seeing a familiar face he reached his arms out for her to hold him and she choked out a cry.

She lifted her finger up and he wrapped his small hand around it.

“Hi, Harry.” She cooed softly and he smiled widely up at her.

He mumbled bits of her name and she tried to keep her composure, so glad that he remembered her, so grateful to have him in her arms.

Davey walked into the house after Y/n had brought Harry to sit with her on the couch completely ignoring the two men behind her.

“So she already signed the custody agreement and all his documents are in his bag, and whatever clothes the Dursleys gave with him but there's really not much in there. You can fill out this form here to have access to his bank account but all withdrawn amounts need to be approved by whoever at Gringotts manages his account. Now did you guys decide about signing the thing for Bertram's release?” Davey asked and Remus nodded.

“Yeah, do we both need to sign it?” Remus asked and Davey shook his head handing Remus the pen and he happily signed the document that he read over three times last night.

“Now I'm told he didn't sleep at all last night, though I'm sure you guys are better suited to care for him-” Davey said before Remus interrupted looking on the couch to see Y/n had lied down with Harry in her arms and both had fallen asleep rather quickly, thanks to their lack of sleep in the night and the clear comfort they got from each other. 

“I think we will be just fine,” he commented, not wanting to think about how long it had been since Harry had been held so lovingly like that.

Davey left shortly after and Remus grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it over the two, closing the curtains to block out the light, he would let them sleep for a bit before waking them up for dinner.

-

Y/n woke up before Harry did, waking up on the couch warm and comfortable with her best friends son, her baby cousin in her arms. She brushed his already ridiculously messy hair out of his face, tracing her finger ever so gently across his new scar. She felt the tears build in her eyes, a mixture of happiness from holding him finally, happiness that he was hers to protect now and sadness still and always that James and Lily weren't there to do this themselves.

She’s grateful, she had the worst baby fever ever since Lily told her she was pregnant, she thought it would be years before she actually had a baby of her own, and though Harry wasn't really hers he was still her blood, and she would still love him like he was 100% her own child, any children she had later in life would mean just as much as Harry does to her, not more, not less, just love.

She brought a hand to cover her eyes as she tried to stop the tears from streaming down her face, trying to calm her breathing.

Remus noticed the movement of her arm from where he was sitting across the room and immediately got up and walked over kneeling beside the couch.

He took her hand in his and kissed it gently before wiping her tears away.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He cooed, looking at Harry who was still happily asleep.

“I know.” She tried to say without making herself cry harder.

“Why don't we get up and eat some dinner, if you sleep all evening you’ll be up by midnight.”

She just nodded, offered Remus a weak smile as she carefully sat up moving Harry gently but also enough to wake him.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter and rubbed his face against her shirt which made her heart melt.

“Hey Harry honey,” She whispered lovingly to him, looking down at him with a teary face and a wide smile.

Remus walked away to get them some food but looked over every few minutes to make sure the two on the couch didn't fall back asleep.

After dinner they went back to bed, Y/n brought Harry in their bed with them, carefully letting him sleep between them. Harry had probably felt so alone and scared for so long, he could use a night of warmth and comfort and a feeling of security. Tomorrow night he would have to sleep on his own again, but never too far away.

-

Sirius had fallen asleep in the forest waiting for Harry to finally arrive and for the Auror to leave so he could go back inside and discuss what they would do now. He didn’t know that Remus and Y/n had gotten a room for him ready, one hidden from the Ministry so he could safely hide from them but also be able to live with his friends, the people he loves most in the world.

When he woke up the sun was rising but it was very early, there was frost covering everything and it was cold enough to snow later in the day.

He shook the frost off his fur and slowly padded over to the house, he quietly crept in through the dog door they had added just for him and sniffed around the house. He figured out Y/n and Remus were in their room as he got closer to the door he also smelled someone he hadn't in so long, his paws almost gave out when he realized Harry was finally there, and not in his own room but sleeping with Y/n and Remus. 

Sirius sniffed around the rest of the house until he figured it safe enough to change back into his human self and make some pancakes for everyone. He was sad to realize he hadn’t smelt this new person they mentioned, he hadn't heard what happened to him, last he knew he was being held by the Ministry until they figured out his trial.

As he mixed the ingredients all together he couldn’t help but reflect on his childhood, growing up with his horrid family, unable to save himself for so long and then once he could get out, having to leave his brother behind. That would be the last time that he would ever leave someone, especially someone he was meant to protect, in a terrible situation like that. 

It’s why he risked his life, risked being caught, to go convince a neighbour to report that Harry was being mistreated. Thankfully it worked, the bloody muggles wouldn't ever even see Harry again, never the less would they lie to him, hurt him, or do any of the horrible things they could have done to him.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard the door creep open and a few mumbled whines.

Y/n froze in her spot making Remus walk into her back.

Sirius Black was standing in their kitchen making breakfast with a stupid proud and happy grin covering his face.

He lifted the spoon, letting the mix drip onto the counter, “Pancakes anyone?”

-

There was a lot of crying that followed that moment. Sirius crying quietly as Y/n offered Harry to him, while Remus took over making breakfast. Happy tears of course.

Sirius felt himself calming down as Y/n hugged him, letting him know that she was so thankful, glad he was safe and most of all that she had missed him and she was glad that he was home.

More tears came to his eyes when they showed him the room they had for him and told him that they wanted him to stay.

Their little weird family was almost complete, in a few months, Bertram would be home too. Once they were all together again they could focus on their small potions business to get by. Then they could focus on clearing Sirius’ name. 

Eventually, before they even knew it Harry would be going to Hogwarts, it seemed everything was finally okay, and they all hoped it would stay that way, but even if it didn't, they had each other and that was what mattered. There would never be another time when one of them would have to ask themselves, “What do I do now?” They would forever ask each other, “What do we do now?”

FIN

[my18thcenturysource]

Mansfield Park...

I've been reading A LOT of Jane Austen lately, and for some reason I had never read Mansfield Park, and now that I've just finished I have questions and comments, like:

Why was ever Edmund in love with Mary Crawford? From the beginning she constantly insulted everything he respected or considered important. Stupid boy. (insert eye roll here).

Why everyone seems to hate Fanny Price as character? I mean, I get that she's quite stressful in the beginning BUT she gained my full respect rejecting Henry Crawford against EVERYONE'S opinions. She stood her ground, sure that he was not a good man.

Even though I get why Fanny is not a reader's favourite, I don't get why so many people like Mary! I mean, she starts being quite fun and relaxed and nice, but then she says so many not nice things! AND she's totally OK with his asshole brother playing around with girls and breaking hearts. Like, girl? wtf? If she didn't like the Bertram sisters, whatever, but wasn't Fanny supposed to be her friend? WHAT THE HELL, GIRL?

On a side note, the fact that NO ONE could understand that Henry should be able to take "no" for an answer and leave Fanny alone, and that nowadays PEOPLE STILL DO THIS just blows my mind. No, it is not romantic, it is creepy. It was then, it is now.

Oh, how I LOVE to hate Mrs Norris!

How many Lady Bertrams do you know in real life? I know several.

Edmund, my man, just sit down, deep breath, and shut up. It clears the mind. XD

ANYWAY, here a meme from Sparknotes:

I give this book 3 out of 5 bonnets (the official ranking system for Regency stuff), because I wanted to slap almost all of the characters, and the whole first part was kind of boring.

And a final question: what's your favourite adaptation of Mansfield Park? I think I've seen the one with Johnny Lee Miller but I do not longer remember it. Lol.

The bonnets images are from Costumes Parisiens, 1817.

[make-me-imagine]

30 Day Writing Challenge Masterlist (September 2021)

Below are the links to all of the Days of my 30 Day Writing Challenge from September 2021.

*Words/Phrases next to the Day# is what the 'theme' of that day was.

**All are Gender Neutral Reader Inserts

------

Day 1: Whump Evan Buckley x Reader Whump/Hurt/Comfort; Angst/Fluff

Day 2: Hand-Holding Newt Scamander x Reader Fluff

Day 3: Cloud/Stargazing Peter Hale x Reader Bit of Fluff, Bit of Angst/Comfort

Day 4: Nightmare Eliot Spencer x Reader Headcanons

Day 5: Soulmate AU Din Djarin x Reader Action, Angst, Fluff

Day 6: Picnic Goodnight Robicheaux x Reader Fluff/Cute

Day 7: "You said you wouldn't fall in love with me." "I lied." BJ Hunnicutt x Reader Fluff/Angst

Day 8: Fake Date/Partner Jack Daniels "Whiskey" x Reader Romance/Flirting/Jealousy/General *Part Two Coming soon

Day 9: Love Letter Steve Rogers x Reader Angst/Romance

Day 10: Flowers Mr. Darcy; Mr. Bingley; Edmund Bertram; Captain Frederick Wentworth x Reader Fluff Headcanons

Day 11: Stormy Night Poe Dameron x Reader Fluff/Comfort + Little Angst

Day 12: Childhood Sweethearts to Strangers to Lovers Leonard "Bones" McCoy x Reader Angst/Fluffish/Romance

Day 13: Secret Admirer Thorin Oakeshield x Reader Fluff/Romance

Day 14: Proposal John Sheppard x Reader Angst/Fluff

Day 15: Admission Chris Larabee x Reader; Vin Tanner x Reader; Ezra Standish x Reader; Buck Wilmington x Reader; Nathan Jackson x Reader; Josiah Sanchez x Reader; JD Dunne x Reader Headanons+Drabbles; fluff/romance/bit of angst.

Day 16: Bounty Din Djarin x Reader Action/Fluffish

Day 17: Huddles together to keep warm Eddie Brock x Reader Fluff/Cute

Day 18: "What are you doing here?" "I wanted to see if you were okay." Spike x Reader Angst/Bit of whump/Comfort/Fluffish

Day 19: 'Flashback' Elijah Mikaelson x Reader Little Angst/General *Part Two Coming Soon

Day 20: 'Rescue' Captain Jack Sparrow x Reader Action/Angst/Fluff

Day 21: 'Meet-Cute' Cpt. Jonathan Archer x Reader Fluff *Part Two Coming Soon

Day 22: 'Ghost/Haunted' Dean Winchester x Reader Action/Angst

Day 23: 'Jealousy' Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce x Reader Angst/Fluff

Day 24: 'Lovers to Enemies/or/Enemies to Lovers Warren Worthington III "Angel" x Reader Angst/Action/Comfort/Fluff

Day 25: 'First Kiss' Headcanons: Merlin x Reader; Arthur x Reader; Gwaine x Reader; Lancelot x Reader; Percival x Reader. Fluff/Romance

Day 26: 'Oh my God there's only one bed' Napoleon Solo x Reader Fluff

Day 27: "I think I'm in love with you" Joshua Faraday x Reader Bit of Angst/Fluff

Day 28: 'Forbidden Love' Thranduil x Reader Romance/Bit of angst/General

Day 29: 'Hair playing/Braiding Thor x Reader Bit of angst/fluff/comfort

Day 30: Cinderella Malcolm Bright x Reader Action/Angst/Romance

[ao3feed-janeausten]

Headcanons: What flowers the Austen men surprise you with and why

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3lccx2T

by Make_Me_Imagine

Pairings: Mr Darcy x Reader; Mr Bingley x Reader; Edmund Bertram x Reader; Captain Wentworth x Reader < All Gender Neutral Reader Inserts.

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 10 - 'Flowers'

Words: 726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Mansfield Park (1999), Persuasion (1995), Persuasion - Jane Austen, Mansfield Park - Jane Austen

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M

Characters: Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, Charles Bingley, Edmund Bertram, Captain Wentworth, Frederick Wentworth, Reader, Y/n - Character, You

Relationships: Mr. Darcy x Reader, Fitzwilliam Darcy x Reader, Fitzwilliam Darcy/Reader, Mr. Darcy/Reader, Mr Bingley x Reader, Charles Bingley x Reader, Mr. Bingley/Reader, Charles Bingley/Reader, Edmund Bertram x Reader, Edmund Bertram/Reader, Captain Wentworth/Reader, Captain Wentworth x Reader, Frederick Wentworth x Reader, Frederick Wentworth/Reader

Additional Tags: Jane Austen - Freeform, Austen Men, headcanons, Romance, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader Insert, Reader Insert

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3lccx2T

[austenmarriage]

New Post has been published on Austen Marriage

New Post has been published on https://austenmarriage.com/1531-2/

Sifting Through Austen’s Elusive Allusions

Excellent researchers have divined many, many references and allusions that Jane Austen makes in her novels and letters. In his various editions of her works, R. W. Chapman lists literary mentions along with real people and places. Deirdre Le Faye’s editions of Austen’s letters include actors, artists, writers, books, poems, medical professionals, and others. Jocelyn Harris, Janine Barchas, and Margaret Doody have written extensively about people, places and things on which Austen may have based situations or characters. Some of Jane��s references are clear, some artfully concealed.

Yet we should be cautious about the great number of literary or historical finds uncovered by modern scholarship, because we often don’t know how many of these Austen knew herself. When a modern researcher cites an historical person from a couple of hundred years Before Jane, the marginal query must always be, “Did JA know this?” Many, she likely did. But probably not all. Maybe not even most.

Also, we don’t know how many references and allusions are tactical rather than strategic. Many authors include passing topical references with no other goal than to place the events of a novel in a particular time and place. A writer in 1960s America might show anti-war footage playing on a television. A current writer might mention a controversial American president or British prime minister. But unless a common theme directly connects the background references with the main storyline, these references are likely tactical rather than strategic.

Here, “tactical” means the reference has no profound meaning beyond the text. “Strategic” means an effort by the writer to establish a more general social, political, or historical context. A reference to a Rumford stove in Northanger Abbey, for example, is tactical, playing a newly invented appliance off the heroine’s expectations of dank passages and cobwebbed rooms. The naval subplot in Persuasion, on the other hand, is strategic. It incorporates not only the overall historical context but also the moral and intellectual contrast between the military men who have earned their wealth versus the wealthy civilians who are squandering theirs.

For many other items, it is difficult to determine the precise source. Education and literature in Great Britain then involved a small, fairly closed set of people. Limited common sources included the Bible, Shakespeare, and authors from the classical tradition. A common set of teachers came from the same small number of colleges using those limited sources. Everyone who admitted to reading novels drew on the same small pool of books.

It is conventional wisdom, for instance, that Austen took the phrase “pride and prejudice” from Francis Burney’s book Cecilia, where the capitalized phrase appears three times at the end. However, the literary pairing of “pride and prejudice” occurs elsewhere, including the writings of Samuel Johnson and William Cowper, two of Austen’s other favorite writers.

Even First Impressions, the original name for this novel, may have come from a common vocabulary. First impressions, and not being fooled by them, was a literary trope. In Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho, the heroine, Emily, and the secondary heroine, Lady Blanche, are warned not to rely on first impressions. This novel, shown above by the headline, is mentioned so often in Northanger Abbey that it is almost a character. The concept also arises in the works of Samuel Richardson. Austen may have borrowed from one of these specific authors. Or all the authors may have used a common literary vocabulary. Indeed, it was the recent publication of two other works with the title First Impressions that led Austen to change her title.

Another question is whether Austen knew the many layers of references that academics often point out. She apparently had free run of her father’s 500-book library, but we don’t know what it contained. As an adult, she had occasional access to the large libraries at her brother Edward’s estates at Chawton and Godmersham. How much she read of the classical material there, we don’t know.

Jane knew Shakespeare and the Bible well. She knew many poets, but would she have read a still earlier classical writer referenced by those poets? Did Austen know Shakespeare’s sources, which were often obscure Italian plays? We might be able to trace many connections back to the Renaissance or before, but she may have known only the immediate one before her.

Harris, Barchas, Doody, and others have given us multiple possible historical references to the name Wentworth in Persuasion. Austen might use the name to tie into this network of families and English history going back hundreds of years (strategic). Or she might use the name because of its fame in her day (tactical). The direct novelistic use is to contrast Sir Walter, who measures family names in terms of social status, with the Captain, who fills his commoner’s name with value through meritorious service. Sir Walter finally accepts Wentworth because of his wealth and reputation. He was “no longer nobody.” Yet the baronet can’t help but think the officer is still “assisted by his well-sounding name.”

Barring a letter or other source in which Austen states her purpose, we have no way of knowing whether Austen intended a broader meaning to “Wentworth” than its general fame. To some, the name in and of itself establishes the broad historical context. To others, it would take more than the three or so brief references to Wentworth, as a name, to show that Austen means to establish a meaningful beyond-the-book purpose.

Another consideration is that, cumulatively, commentators have found an enormous number of supposed references and allusions in Austen. Could a fiction writer, with all the work required in creating, writing, and revising a novel, have the time and energy to find and insert a myriad of outside references and allusions? Could a writer insert many references without bogging down the work?

Every writer who has tried her hand at historical fiction, for example, knows that too much history can overwhelm the novel’s story, leaving characters standing on the sideline to watch events pass by. Every external reference creates extra exposition that creates the danger of gumming up the plotline. It might also create a new emotional tone at odds with the characters’ situation or other complexities that must be resolved. We can’t underestimate the extra work for an author who already has her head full of practical book-writing issues—plot and character development—that need to be kept straight.

Finally, writers often plant things for no other reason than fun. In Northanger Abbey, John Thorpe takes Catherine Morland for a carriage ride early in the story. Barchas points out that he asks her about her relationship with her friends, named Allen, at just the point where their carriage would be driving past Prior Park, the home of Ralph Allen. This was the stone mogul who helped build Bath.

Austen does not explicitly call out the family home. Readers who know Bath’s geography and make the connection to the wealthy masonry clan get an extra chuckle. Readers unfamiliar with the geography, or with the wealthy Allen descendants, would not suffer from a lack of understanding.

All a reader needs to know is that Thorpe thinks the Morlands are connected to a very wealthy family, when in fact their friends named Allen are only modestly well-to-do. Thorpe’s misunderstanding drives the book’s plot. Very likely, all Austen wanted with the Prior Park allusion was to give a wink to the bright elves reading her book.

Thus the author may mean one thing, while later analysts might find something beyond what the writer ever intended. In Mansfield Park, for instance, Henry Crawford reads Henry VIII aloud. A broad interpretation might connect the attitude of the rogue Henry Crawford with the attitude of the rogue Henry VIII: Women and wives are interchangeable, expendable, to be taken at whim and tossed away at whim. Or perhaps the name Henry is nothing more than a tip of the hat to Jane’s favorite brother, Henry.

Austen may well have intended multiple levels of interpretation. But note that she has Henry Crawford himself say that Shakespeare is “part of an Englishman’s constitution … one is intimate with him by instinct.” Edmund Bertram agrees: “We all talk Shakespeare, use his similes, and describe with his descriptions.”

Others may feel that Austen deliberately weaves in as many references as she can. One must imagine her writing with a variety of concordances stacked to the ceiling. But she indirectly tells us of a different approach. One is “intimate” with Shakespeare by “instinct.” She knew the Bard and other writers in depth, and the references come out organically. Much more than by design, this fine writer pulls what she needs from history by “instinct.”

—

The Marriage of Miss Jane Austen, which traces love from a charming courtship through the richness and complexity of marriage and concludes with a test of the heroine’s courage and moral convictions, is now complete and available from Amazon and Jane Austen Books.

[axburrows]

“My Plague Journal”

By RICHARD LITTLETHOUGHT ‘The Voice of Truth, if by “Truth” you mean “Profoundly Right-Wing Assertions”.’

DAY IV

Readers, I do confess this self-isolation business is getting to me at the very roots! The other day, I was having a harmless browse of some of that P.G. Wodehouse – ‘fun for all the fam’, as the rappers would say. But several chapters in, my heart ached and a drowsy numbness pained my sense, as though of Benylin® I had drunk.

In my delirious state, I saw myself attired in a starched collar and claw-hammer coat to boot. My man-cave was gone. Looking around at this new opulent interior, I surmised that I’d entered into the employment of a top-drawer citizen: Mister Bertram Wooster! Distantly, I heard the tinkling of a bell. I pursued the sound up a long and winding staircase. I opened an oak panelled door and stepped into my master’s bedroom. He was lounging beneath candy-striped bedclothes, a little bell in his hand.  

‘You rang, sir?’ I said.

‘Now look here, Littlethought’, Wooster intoned, ‘My squeeze, Emily Maitlis, is coming round for supper later and I want to make a bit of an impression – if you catch my meaning?’

‘Indeed, sir.’ I said.

‘I���ve got a grocery list here for her favourite dish: Greek moussaka with a special side salad – Yukon potatoes, artichoke hearts and a caramelised fig – that sort of caper.’ He waved this scroll of decadence beneath my salt-of-the-earth nose. ‘Now be a sport and toddle down to Whole Foods, would you?’ 

‘Indeed, sir’, I intoned. I took the list and shimmered out.

Coming down Kensington High Street, the pavements billowed with a thousand coxcombs in primrose scarfs and crushable bushman’s hats. Through the window of a Wasabi, the Monopoly Man was licking ramen off a glass table top while a prostitute clapped. I turned and saw a parade processing up the road, at the centre of which was a massive Chinese dragon with the face of a polystyrene James O’Brien. Fire-eaters and acrobats pranced around it performing tricks, whilst Sandi Toksvig saluted the crowd from an amphibious rocket launcher. Jess Phillips played ‘I Will Survive’ on the ocarina. A marmoset was on Skype!!! I’m a stranger in my own country! I thought. 

Behind me, I heard a fragile voice singing from the doorway of an Alms House.

‘Jesus blood - never failed me yet - never failed m’yet - never failed me...’

‘Mister Farage!’ I said. ‘Whatever became of our Man of the Hour?’

‘I’ve been stripped of m’assets, boy. Stripped of m’assets.’

‘Wassat?’

‘M’Youtube videos have been de-monitised, I tells ye! All m’lovely Youtube videos!’ 

‘They’ll never get away with this, Nige! God’s honour, they won’t!’ 

‘Thruppence for a vodka jelly, will ye?’  

I was about to knee him in the groin and make a speech about the undeserving poor, when an affectless young man approached and forced a limp handshake. The young man then turned and gestured to a bunch of phlegmatic-faced tweens in furs doing coke off a padlock key.

‘Hey, guys, come on over!’ he said. ‘It’s a load of pre-gentrification First Peoples!’ 

They introduced themselves as characters who’d escaped from an Andrew Doyle satire. They were now surviving hand-to-mouth as a band of marauding postmodernists. They tried to impress me by showing me colourful objects from their ‘superior culture’, including Nespresso pods, scalp wax and a pencil sharpener from the Barbican Centre. A young woman in turquoise brogues read a poem about having adulterous sex in a library. When I told her I thought poetry was a form of character weakness, she cried onto her shoes (AND HER LACES TO BOOT!!hooho!). One tired-looking bloke – who claimed that sleep patterns were ‘just a construct’ and favoured instead a politicised version of rest known as ‘free-sleep’ – asked if I’d considered taking ‘powerful antidepressants’ to cure my conservatism. I told him that I was in love with my own sadness. I said I wanted to live my life ‘like a powder keg: short but sweet’ – I winked at the shoe-lady. The bloke explained that he wanted to live his life like an otter: ‘a very long and chilled one’, on his own, lying on a beanbag, eating stems of barley, with infrequent but carefully scheduled sessions of masturbation. I looked him squarely in the eyes and asked if he’d ever had a wet shave. The woman interjected and said I should join a Union, as ‘a working-class person!’ 

‘Who’re you calling working-class?!’ says I. ‘I’m a small business owner, don’t y’know!’

………………

I was referring to a small business I tried to establish in the late 90s, selling knock-off Toby jugs from the boot of my Mazda, just off the A13 trunk road. We got busted by a gang of hired bravoes sent by the Wedgwood company. I was left lying on the verge with a pair of broken legs surrounded by shards of homemade ceramics. The police managed to trace the bravoes as far as Stoke-on-Trent where the trail ran cold, thanks to a conspiracy of silence among the city’s terrified residents. I had a meltdown not long after that. In my despair, I overdosed on Vick’s VapoRub and tried walking into the sea one night down in Billericay. I was saved, after I mistook the inchoate outline of a miniature schnauzer for the spiritual form of a Toby Jug. It hovered above the sand, glowing. 

Don’t give up, Dick. Don’t give up the ju-ugs! 

But I can’t, Tobias, mate. The porcelain industry is eating me alive! 

No one else can potter like you, Dick! That’s the truth.

But the jugs have become a burden, mate!  

It is your destiny, Dick. The jugs are your destiny! Swear. Swear. 

What are you? Angel or Devil?

I AM IN HELL!!!!

………………….

Once I had absquatulated from the students, I entered the vast baize complex of Whole Foods. I’d never seen so many vegetables in my life [INSERT GIBE ABOUT THE SCOTTISH]. The building was at least 100 storeys high, buzzing with flying cars and hydraulic escalators. It was like the Tower of Babel itself! Fritz Lang’s Metropolis crossed with a farmer’s market.  

The affluence of the place sickened me to my very claw! I walked past some Houynhnhnms, cantering along the ‘Oats’ aisle. They gave me sideways glances and whispered to one another. 

‘Darling, is that a Leaver?’

‘Darling, do you know, I think it might well be!’ 

‘In Whole Foods? I say, do you think he’s here to get his methadone injection? Someone should tell him, it’s not that kind of supermarket.’ *Goya-esque braying*

I’m a creep, I thought. I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.

Near an aisle of artichokes, my bum was perused by the ghost of W.H. Auden. 

‘Sir! If I may say’, he whispered, ‘Your arse is so muscular, I should wish to immortalise it in verse!’ I bristled at the scent of cherry brandy on his lips.

‘I concur, Wystan!’ crooned the fay shade of Lytton Strachey. ‘A truly delectable specimen.’

I swung at them. ‘Naff orf, you bloody wagtails!’

‘Oh, I say!’ preened Wystan Hugh.  

At which point the ghost of Jean Cocteau approached, his eyes gleaming like a deviant, his fingers wriggling, ‘Ohohoho! Il a un cul chaud!’ 

‘Now look ere, Frenchy! One step over this ere threshold and I’ll knock yer flippin block off, comprehend-e?’

‘Je recommanderais le chou-fleur.’

‘Watch it! I’m warning you!’

‘Oh, Jean. You old nag!’

‘Oui. Je suis un cinéaste.’

‘I can’t make head nor tail of this! I bluddy hate these romance languages’ I said to myself, sotto voce. I felt a stranger in my native land.

Once I had absquatulated the scene, I returned to the penthouse to prepare supper while Wooster billed and cooed with Ms Maitlis. (It was like the courting ritual of kestrels!!) Around midnight, I brought in the third course of banana shallots. The room was billowing with the scent of orange blossom and legal highs; I nearly fainted. Maitlis wore large, exotic torques from the Barbican Centre gift shop. She was hunkered over a big, indulgent glug of “Chateau de Liz Kendall”. Her eyes were as brown as spear handles!! Her face was firm yet glam, like the prow of a Russian oil tanker steered by Bianca Jagger. Her throaty voice, with its alluring masculine depths, was both thick and sweet, like oil on a scone (in an M&S advert sponsored by Shell). 

‘Your butler’, she intoned. ‘A bit wet behind the ears, don’t you think?’

‘Oh gawd,’ my master said, his saliva moonlit, ‘don’t I know it, Ms Emma! Hum-hum-hum-hum.’

Now easy, Dick, says I to mine-self. Easy does it now. 

Her voice sank deeper: ‘If you want to move in with me, Wooster, we’re going to have to find you a new man!’

‘If you like, I could fire this bounder on the spot! Just for you. I would do that, Emily. For you I would! If you’d like!’ 

She grinned and they stared into each other’s eyes for a good minute. Then she glanced up at me, a touch dismayed. Wooster turned around - he had a scheming look. 

‘Oh, fetch us dessert, would you, Littlethought?’

I shimmered out. I returned a few moments later with an inappropriately large jelly designed by Norman Foster. 

‘Ta, Littlethought.’

‘Sir.’

‘Oh, and Littlethought?’

‘Sir?’

‘You’re dismissed.’

‘Sir?!’

‘Dismissed. Arrivederci, Littlethought. We’re replacing you. Don’t come back tomorrow. You can leave your key card on the salver.’

I TOOK OUT A BOMB. I SCREAMED LIKE A CELT!

‘I say, steady on there, Littlethought!’

‘YIPPEE-KI-YAY, MOTHERFUCKERS!’ I intoned.

‘I didn’t know you spoke French, Littlethought!’

I pulled the cord! ‘FOR ENGLAND!’

Unfortunately, I was the only casualty. I wish I had died to avoid legal culpability. But it was a British explosive, so I incurred only minor tissue scarring. My master and Ms Maitlis immediately pressed charges. Because of my two-year-long media campaign against legal aid, I could only afford to be represented by a sparrow. The sparrow had yet to graduate to the bar, having only recently built his nest outside the chambers at Gray’s Inn where I hoped he’d at least absorbed something of the finer points of tort law. I appeared in court the following week in a plaster cast, where I was sentenced to life by Justice Lady Hale. 

‘Well, well, well, Mithta Littlethought’, lisped Lady Hale. ‘A Leaver in the dock, I thee! It mutht be my lucky day! Yum yum yum!’ (She rubbed her stomach and mimed eating me - which I thought excessive.) A roll call of witnesses for the prosecution sealed my fate: Kojack, David Blunkett, and Charlotte Church in a bonnet who jumped up on the plaintiff’s bench and called me ‘a witch’ and then fainted. Lady Hale said I was ‘weak and scum’ - or ‘thcum’, to be precise (which is Welsh for ‘seamen’, FYI). 

‘I thenenth you to 55 yearth, Mr Littlethought!’ she crooned. ‘55 backbwaking yearth!’ 

She banged her gavel. A loud cheer broke out across the gallery. I looked at my sparrow in his tiny little fucking wig, cursing him with my very blood. 

‘May God have merthy upon your thoul, Mithta Littlethought!’ Hale said. 

The sparrow immediately took wing – with my car keys in its beak – and escaped from a clearstory window. I’d lost everything. As I was bundled out of the courtroom, my faithful but still vividly puce-legged wife, Vanessa, surreptitiously passed me a cyanide capsule and an After Eight mint. She kissed me. 

‘I’ll never forget you, Monsieur Robespierre,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget you – you – you – YOU…’

I woke up. My body was covered in sweat. It had all been a dream. I sighed with relief. I drew back the coverlet. But then, in the palm of my right hand: was a melted After Eight! Had it really been a dream? Yes. I had fallen asleep on top of a box of After Eights. I showered the mint chocolate off my cords and wept.

 -----------   b l  a  c  k  o  u   t  ------------

Grams:           ‘Underneath the   Arches’  (Flanagan/ Allen - ft. Dua Lipa)

CODA:

[bentchcreates]

Carla De Guzman Trio

(Marry Me, Charlotte B; Driving Home; and Up All Night)

I took too long to post a review of Carla’s book that I was able to read and finish two more of her short stories. Heehee. I’m posting these review in the order that I’ve read them. :)

Marry Me, Charlotte B

This was actually my first book from her. I got my copy at MIBF 2016, the same day I first met her, but I went ahead and read her other books first. LOL. This was also the last book I’ve read in 2017 and ugh, I don’t know why I waited so long to start with it. I liked it so much!

It felt like a reality show Devil Wears Prada*, which I think was a strong influence in the writing of this, but it’s wonderfully separate from that because the romance here is swoon-worthy friends-to-lovers. I also love that (spoiler alert?) Nellie undergoes a mini-makeover, but (another spoiler alert) she didn’t really need it. LOL. I don’t want to say anything anymore because I feel like I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you the story, haha. But watch out for the conflict (Rob’s fault, but not entirely)and the brilliant way they patch things up, the red-herring, and the side romance of Nellie’s clients. It’s amazing! Robert is charming and clueless at times, which made him even more adorkable in my opinion.

I also love the pop-culture references especially the RuPaul ones; and the word-styling** was perfect. It made the reality-TV setting more authentic.

Admittedly, I was confused in the first few paragraphs because I thought Charlotte B was the name of the protagonist, so I didn’t understand why everything was revolving around Nellie.  After about three pages, I read the blurb behind the book and it finally made sense! Hahaha! I love the Charlotte B character, though, and I rarely do fancasts of books I read but I couldn’t shake the image of Jessica Lange being Charlotte. Jessica Lange in AHS Coven, but less evil glam, and more Miranda Priestly-boss levelz. ;)

Also, Donna is the level of chill I will forever aspire to be. Now that I think about it, maybe the character is also influenced by another Donna character from that TV show with lawyers that I sometimes watch with my cousin. (I completely forgot the title, I’m sorry. I’ll edit this when it finally comes to me.)

I absolutely enjoyed this book more than I expected. The print book is quite thin so I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of things happened (a lot of kilig-things happened, specifically) and towards the end, I kind a forced myself to slow-read the last few pages because I didn’t want it to end yet, I didn’t want to leave the universe Carla created yet, but no such luck. I was super excited for things to fall into place for my girl, Nellie.

*I have only seen the film (a fifty times, at the very least) and haven’t read the book yet. **WillReadForFeels taught me this word over at Litsy. XD

The following are two short stories available for FREE at Instafreebie (links below)

Driving Home

I remember feeling ridiculously giddy when I started reading this because the heroine, Isabel, picked an orange (my favorite color) Volkswagen as her car. (I love Beetles, but my heart belongs to the Samba!) Also, Nacho, her LI, is a tall man (my heart belongs to them, too, choz) and this is a bestfriends-to-lovers story that spans a couple of years (slow-burn romance burns my heartstrings on fahyerrr)

It’s quirky and light-hearted, and while it’s deeply rooted in local places (compared to other books by Carla featuring amazing places all over the world) the sense of adventure is still as fascinating to read.

I also love the shout-out to Ang Bandang Shirley in the dedication at the end of the story. I don’t remember ever hearing a song from them before (I’m so sorry again, ehe) but I’m adding them now to my Artists To Discover playlist.

Up All Night

This is another adventure I thoroughly enjoyed. This time, Carla takes the readers to Hong Kong and Macau with a cute MC (another Canlas girl!! I’m so happy!) and a crushable LI. This combination of protagonists exuded strong Asian Drama feels for me and when this story becomes adapted on screen (TV or Movie, idc) I know I’ll bingewatch this several times. LOL.

I love the photo inserts (taken by the author/with the author herself) and the inclusion of food in the cultural aspects of the tourist spots mentioned in the book. I especially loved the ‘pink slip’ incident and the special restaurant date that resulted from it. The end scene made me squeal internally at 2 AM, so be prepared for that! Heehee.

I need more of Penelope and Anton!! So bad! I mean, I liked how this short ended, but may I demand for an epilogue from the author? Like, maybe a 30k worded epilogue (lels) because I need to know what happens after that end scene happens! I have so many follow-up questions! Haha

4.5 of 5 Stars for each. I loved all these stories! They were awesome books to start 2018 with and I am looking forward to reading more from Carla this year!

Blurbs:

Marry Me, Charlotte B!

“Marry Me, Charlotte B!” premieres their first ever season! 

Chronicling the everyday life of the fabulous wedding planner Charlotte Bertram and her team, the show features wedding planning tips, a colorful cast of characters, and an unexpected love story. The season focuses on Charlotte B’s biggest challenge yet—planning the royal wedding of Pop Princess Renee Winters to her beau Congressman Ewan Walters, while searching for her apprentice. Will it be her sexy son Robert? Her quiet assistant Nellie or her fabulous receptionist, Donna? Diva meltdowns, wedding madness and gorgeous weddings set in the beautiful backdrop of San Francisco come together to make for great reality TV that will have you screaming, Marry Me, Charlotte B! Marry Me Charlotte B airs its first episode…right now.

Buy Links:

Marry Me Charlotte B!:

Amazon Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Marry-Me-Charlotte-Carla-Guzman-ebook/dp/B00WG9Y4G4 Print: https://somemidnights.typeform.com/to/eQWo23

Up All Night: https://www.instafreebie.com/free/Qm5Ie Driving Home: https://www.instafreebie.com/free/580X3

About the Author:

If you ask Carla what she does for a living, she will tell you that she’s not quite sure.

By day, she works a regular day job and writes for a lifestyle website. By night, she’s an author and an artist, spending her midnights at her desk and making these silly love stories. She loves to travel, coming home to her dog Kimchi and spending her weekends having dinner with her crazy family.

She’s currently on a quest to see as many Impressionist paintings as she can, and is always in search of the perfect pain au chocolat.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/somemidnights

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/somemidnights

www.somemidnights.com

somemidnights@gmail.com

[ellana-ravenwood]

“My mom is better than yours” - Batmom x Damian Wayne

Summary : The Kent family have invited your family over for dinner, and of course, as usual, Damian and Jon don’t quite...behave. 

I just wanted to write a short little cute fic with Damian and his mama because I just love the idea of Damian being super proud of his Batmom and blahblahblah maybe it’s a bit too long sorry. I hope you will like it : 

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Bruce thought it was extremely cute, how Damian’s eyes always seem to shine when looking at you. How his face brightens. Even how ashamed he is when you scold him when he’s too cocky, or simply being a plain brat. 

The kid thought you were just the best damn thing on this planet. 

He admired everything you did...

The Batman had to admit it, sometimes, he was a bit jealous. 

But mostly, he just thought it was really cute, to see his boy completely accepting you as his mother. Hell, he was even calling you “Mama” (damn period dramas) now !

You were the one he considered his mom (Talia actually tried to kill you a few times because of that, jealous beyond everything of you and the love “her” son seemed to have for you...She tried harder when Damian told her that she was “never his mom”, that you showed him what a real mother was, and also, when she realized how in love Bruce was with you, while she had to drug him to get him to sleep with her...Yeah, pretty jealous. You always pulled through though, mostly thanks to your boys, husband and superfriends).

Well, to be honest, he never doubted the fact that you’d get along with him. You had a special effect on people. If you really put your mind to it, you can convince anyone to do what you want, you can win anyone’s heart in a little flutter of your damn beautiful eyelashes...

When Damian first met you, he was most disagreeable, and you...grounded him. “Young man, in your room, no dessert for you tonight”, and he was so stunned that he did it, though he didn’t even listen to his father at the time, and thought he knew everything better than everyone ! He knew you only for a few minutes, and he already had more respect for you than for anyone else. 

Sometimes, Bruce suspected that you might be a meta-human, because the power you could have over people with your magnificent aura was...something. But he tested you in every way possible, and he had to admit that, you were just like him. A simple human. A simple human with incredible abilities. 

Yes. Bruce always thought it was extremely cute the way his son, your son to the both of you, almost worshipped you. 

Well, your older kids did too. Again, there was just a way about you...

You started dating Bruce when he first took young Richard Grayson in, about twelve years ago (right after Talia drugged him actually), when he was barely 8 years old and heartbroken because of his parents’ death...And though you were merely twenty, quite younger than Bruce really, you took your job as a surrogate mother for Dick very seriously. Quickly, the boy asked you if he could call you mom, if his own mother would be mad and...well, the hug you gave him was answer enough. Though he was twenty and had his own flat in Bludhaven now, Dick was still quite the momma’s boy. 

It was pretty much the same with Jason. You winked at him and told him it was pretty cool and brave to try and steal the batmobile’s wheels, and boom, you had him wrapped around your little fingers. He lived for your bedtime stories and cuddle when he had trouble sleeping. 

Tim was even easier to treat you like his mom. After only a few months he was already introducing you as his mother, and that was that. Just natural. Unlike Jason and Dick, his birth mother wasn’t exactly...the best, and you gave him a chance to have a real mom. One that would die for her son, do anything for him,  even if it meant staying up all night to sing him soothing songs while he had the flu, putting ridiculous costumes to go trick or treating with him, or, more recently, since he was now 15 (already ?!), gaming with him until you’d both pass out out of exhaustion. 

Quite like Tim, Damian never had the love of a “real” mother. How it should be. The mom taking care of her son, no matter what. Not letting him do whatever he wants, but making sure he’s happy...and so, just like his older brothers before him, he came to simply adore you. 

Once, Bruce took him up to the League’s watchtower to see you because it was your turn to watch over the World (and though he would never admit it that it was the actual reason, because he was missing you), and everyone present were shocked to see how much of a different boy he was with you. 

When with you, he was nice, unsure sometimes, but you always got words to calm his insecurities and self-doubts. When with you, he was the sweetest little twelve year old boy ever. When with you, he wasn’t bratty at all, and didn’t look down on anyone. He was himself, the boy he should have been if the League of Assassin didn’t steal his childhood. It was obvious he would protect you at all cost, and the love you had for him knew no bound. 

Yes, the relationship between you and your son was a tight one. And though it made Bruce jealous on occasions, as he had more difficulties bonding with Damian, he was sure glad that you had each others, and his heart always beat fast when he sees you two laugh together because one or the other made a stupid joke. 

Of course, most of the times, you’d include him in too. Damian was glad that his father would join (though he’d never admit it) and you...Well, Bruce was the love of your life, you always enjoyed spending time with him. And you tried everything you could for him to get along with Damian, succeeding often but...sometimes Bruce just felt like he had to leave the two of you together. 

But sometimes, he hated it too. When the both of you would create an alliance against him...and tickle him until he begged for you to stop for example (he would throw you off of him, but he was to afraid to hurt you for that). Or when you voted against him on a movie choice...Well to be honest, chances are, if you really want to watch a movie, you’ll convince everyone to watch it, even him. But yeah, it could be very frustrating how close you and Damian were, partner in crime till the end and all. 

Like today. Though it wasn’t so much frustrating as it was annoying. But he kinda expected it...As soon as you and him accepted the invite to dinner over the Kents, he knew that things wouldn’t go all smooth. 

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

You’re the one that convinced Bruce to say “yes” to Clark when he asked you guys if you wanted to come over for dinner next Friday. Because you thought it was important for your boys to get out of Gotham sometimes. You convinced Bruce to go over Metropolis, and let Batgirl and Batwoman take care of Gotham. To enjoy some family times. And hey, he could never resist you. 

Turned out though, that Dick was busy that night, he didn’t exactly told you what he was busy with, but it involved one of his friend’s twenty first birthday. 

Jason too, wasn’t available, as he promised Starfire and Arsenal to keep his free night of the week for them (you made a deal a long time ago, with all the members of your family, that at least one night a week, they’d rest). 

Tim had an important project to finish for school, and was freaking out enough for you not to force him to come. 

So much for a nice family outing...Still, you knew you were gonna enjoy that dinner in Metropolis, with your youngest and your beloved husband. 

Maybe you thought too fast...

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

Your helicopter ride from Gotham to Metropolis was fast and pleasant, as you looked down at the landscape going through, while the sun was settling down. 

You expected a car to wait for you to bring you to the Kent’s house but...Well, Kent was there himself. 

-Hey (Y/N), nice to see you ! Bruce, Damian ! 

Clark calls, with a bright smile. He kisses you on the cheek (you two feign to ignore Bruce stiffening slightly) and shakes your husband and son’s hand. 

-Hey Clark, it’s nice to see you too. Hi Jon.

You plant a kiss on Superman’s boy, and he blushes a bit. Damian glares at him...How dare he ? Yeah ok you’re the one that gave him a kiss, but...well, only him and his brothers had the right to be kissed on the cheek by you like that ! 

You looked at your son, and gave him “that look” that meant : “behave, or else...”, of course, he didn’t know what the “or else” was, but he would never risk it. You could be scary when angry (he still remembers you kicking his highly trained biological mother’s ass after he came back to life and she came back to try to take him away with her...it was frightening, the way you fought and was furious). 

You give the same look to Bruce, as you can see him already frowning, and he straighten and forces a smile for Clark. 

Superman cannot stop himself from chuckling. Oh you were one of his best friend, and he just loved the way you put the bat back in his place. Though, his smug expression annoyed you and...you gave him the look too, making his smirk fall from his face. 

The only one you didn’t glare at was Jon, who just seemed genuinely happy to be here, and was smiling widely at you. You smiled back, making Damian glare some more (while you weren’t looking at him). 

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

-Oh gosh Lois, you surpassed yourself this time ! 

You smile brightly at your host, and she smiles back, but before she can respond to your praise, you hear your boy’s voice say : 

-Tt. I think you’re a better cook mother. 

You don’t even have time to give the famous “batmom glare at your son” that Jon jumps in, standing up, pointing his fork at his “friend” : 

-Hey ! That’s enough ! You’ve been saying your mom is better than mine all night. You think you’re sly and discreet about it but I can hear you with my super hearing and there’s only so much I can take ! You shut up now !

It’s funny, how neither you nor Lois, or your respective husband, are able to utter even a word, or to say anything, because those two boys just ignore you all and oh god now they’re standing in front of each other in a fighting stance. 

-It isn’t my fault if my mom is better than yours ! 

-No she isn’t ! No one’s better than my mum ! And she’s the best cook ! 

-Oh really ? Remember when you came home last week and said it was the best meal you ever ate ? SHE cooked it because Alfred wasn’t feeling well ! 

-It was only a figure of speech ! To be nice ! 

-Right sure, doesn’t even matter, you still said it was the best, hence, my mom is the best cook ! 

Jon’s fist tighten, and Bruce and Clark are ready to intervene any minute...just if necessary though,because they’re more and more curious about how this little debate is going to end. Will their mother stop them ? Or will they let them go to see who had more arguments about which one was the best mom ? 

According to your amused smile, and Lois’ curious look, they guessed it was gonna be the latter option. Good. 

-Ok, maybe, but my mom’s smarter ! She won a pulitzer price !

-She only won one because she wrote something about your father ! It’s easy to write about something you know so well and love ! Besides, she had him there for any questions she wanted to ask ! 

Clark exchange a loving look with Lois at the fond memories of her story on him. Yes, he was definitely always there when she had a question...

-But she still won a pulitzer price ! Did you mom won a pulitzer price ? 

-No, but her books sold millions more than your mom’s ! And intelligence isn’t measured by the ability to write ! 

-Yeah well then why d’you say she sold more books if it doesn’t matter ? 

-Because it proves she’s the best ! 

-It only proves people buy her stuffs because her name is “Wayne” ! 

At  those words, you stiffen a bit, and now, Bruce and Clark are ready to stop you should you jump on Jon for his words...You hated when people attributed your success as a writer to you being married to the famous Mr. Wayne, because you were selling millions of books before you even met him ! Fortunately, your son is there to defend you : 

-Don’t talk about what you don’t know ! She was selling millions even before she even started dating my dad !  And I’m pointing it out really because she’s way more successful in the writing area than your mom, so she’s the best !

-She didn’t win a pulitzer price ! 

-Only because they said they wouldn’t give it to her because everyone would think it was because she was a Wayne ! 

-I thought she was selling millions before being a Wayne ! 

-Yeah, when she was not even twenty, they thought her writing was still too immature to earn a pulitzer, and then she got with my dad and now she can’t win one without people saying she cheated so...And besides your mom didn’t even had her own regular articles in the Daily Planet before she reached 34 !  

It was Lois’ turn to stiffen. She gave you a glance, meaning something like : “Hey, your kid’s going too far there, it’s not easy to be journalist in a place like Metropolis !”, but before you can scold your son, Jon continues : 

-It’s not because she became famous later that she’s not more worthy and a better writer than your mom ! And even if Mrs Wayne is better at that, well she’s still less smart !

-My mom has four PHD, and she got them before she was twenty one ! She’s a genius !

-...Oh yeah ? Well my mom can dance like no one ! 

-I bet she’s not as good as my mom. 

Your boys whip around to face the two of you and...Are they waiting for you guys to dance ? Oh no way Jose you’re not going to dance to settle a stupid fight. 

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

You ended up dancing. And playing chess. And attempting backflips. Oh, not forgetting the famous “best scolding mom contest”...And of course, the famous “most creative punishment you can come up with on the spot if your kid misbehave”...Your sons showered the two of you under waterfalls of compliments, and though Lois gave a good fight, you won all of the “contest” Damian and Jon created, in front of slightly lost husbands. How did that happen again ? How did they arrive here, right there right now, answering questions their sons asked like “Who would you say is the best kisser ? Hey mom, kiss Superman so he can now, and Mrs. Kent, kiss my dad, so it’s settled”...They were wondering how it happened when it seemed like it was finally the end of the “best mom war” between Damian and Jon. 

And there was a winner. 

You. 

Though you clearly didn’t care, and neither did Lois really. She already knew you were better than her at most things, but you were cheating. You were indeed a genius, who got trained by the goddamn Batman ever since she was twenty ! Of course you’d be better than her...No hard feeling though, because you had no idea you were better. Hell, you were so full of insecurities that you most often didn’t know you were better than most people you met. On the contrary, you always thought people were superior to you, no matter what your sons and husband would say. 

Lois thought it was cute, how oblivious you were. Even then, in front of your son and his friend fighting and proving you were better, you still didn’t believe it, not reacting at all. 

-HAHA ! SO IT’S DONE ! My mother is the best. 

Damian says triumphantly. Jon grumbles a weak answer, cross his arms and turn away, and even your son gotta admit that his pout is very cute and he feels just a bit guilty. Really just a bit, cause he just proved his mother was the best, as he always knew. He turns to you, smiling and...Oh, you don’t look happy. 

Why don’t you look happy ? He said so many nice things about you...In front of his unsure face, you cannot help but smile, but you don't come to him. No, you go to Jon, and turn his face to you. 

-Hey Jonny boy. 

The boy doesn’t answer, looking worriedly at his own mother. He wasn’t able to defend her against a verbal attack, what would he do if he had to defend her against actual enemies ? Actual bad guys, and not just his best friend being annoying ? You continue : 

-You know, it doesn’t matter what Damian says. Of course for him I’m going to be the best, I’m his mom. And of course Lois is the best in your eyes, she’s yours. It doesn’t matter those little games you settled. The only thing that matters, is what you feel in your heart. 

With a sigh of defeat, Jon says : 

-But you won everything. You’re the best ! 

You shake your head and gives him a gentle smile, ignoring your son’s scoff (you’ll deal with him later). You add : 

-Again, it doesn’t matter. Only your heart Jon, only your heart. What do you feel in your heart ? 

Shyly, Jon turns to you and say : 

-That my mom is the best. 

-Then your mom is the best. 

-...really ? 

-Yes. 

-As simple as that ? 

-Yes. Everything don’t have to be a fair competition with rules and such. Some things cannot be explained. Like the love from a son to a mother...

You turn to your own kid, and grab him by the arm, squeezing him in your arms. Damian’s eyes widen in surprise, and he’s too stunned to react. 

-...Or the love from a mother to a son. 

Jon now smiles widely, showing all of his teeth, and goes to hug his own mom. Of course, Lois wraps him up in a loving embrace (you can almost hear your two idiots of husbands sighing because of the cuteness of the scene, their wives holding their kids like that). 

-I love you my boy, so so so so so so much. 

You whisper in Damian’s ear. He cannot help but smile, and hugs you back, ignoring his surrounding. It’s just you and him. In each others arms. You’ll never let him go, he knows. 

-I love you too mom. More than so so so so so so much. You’re the best. Truly. 

You chuckle lowly, and finally pull away from his embrace. You turn to Jon who let go of his mom too. Yyou can feel Damian stiffens as the other boy grins at him provocatively, like “see, my mom too is the best, your mom said it herself”. 

You know you have to diffuse the bomb before it starts all over again, and you say : 

-Jon, didn’t you speak about a new fighting video games you got for your birthday, and how great you are at it ? 

Jon’s face lightens : 

-I’m the best at it ! 

Damian scoffs and says : 

-Oh yeah ? I’d like to see that ! 

-Well, you two can go play AFTER dessert ! 

Lois tells them. And they’re totally fine with this, yes, after dessert. That’s great. Just like said dessert, so good. 

**********

You sip on your coffee cup as you look tenderly at your boy and Jon playing video games in the living room. Lois is next to you and sighs : 

-Oh they’re so cute. 

-Yes Lois, yes they are...But my son’s cuter. 

She snaps her gaze on you, but cannot help but laugh at your mischievous smile and wink. Oh you. She was glad you were amongst her friends. 

Unknowing to the both of you, your husband were staring at you, love and awe in their eyes, a stupid smile on their faces. They finally snapped out of their confused haze as to what was happening (took them long enough, so long in fact, that you didn’t even hear their voice of the entire evening), and were looking over their son with pride that they defended their mother so fiercely...Clark, with a content sigh, says : 

-Damn I love her. She’s just so awesome. 

-Yes,Lois is great but...(Y/N)’s so much better. And you know it. Everyone does. Even your kid. And I love her more than you love Lois. No questions about that.

FIN.