#Skittles talks about her rocks days

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Could We Not?

ONE SHOT

[ or Part 1 to Not Another Time ]

<< Request >> "Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where she’s like apart of the band and she gets hit in the head with a hard object while she’s on stage and Harry is super freaked out? That would be a sanity saver!" - @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Summary: Harry Styles is used to having things thrown at him on stage. Recently, it's been Skittles, which affected his vision. But when his band members are affected, he can't stay silent. Especially when it's YN who takes the hit.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! YN replaces Laura in the band, just in general, only because she plays the trumpet and I still included Parris.

Warnings: Some explicit language, wound with blood, angry Harry

He can't escape it. It has carried on from his days in One Direction, and it seems to have become a permanent, unavoidable occurrence that things are thrown at him on stage.

Most are harmless, such as boas, sunglasses, or little plush toys that he is always inclined to keep.

However, there have been a few occasions where the objects were a bit more troublesome. Phones are a big one, which internally annoys the hell out of him at this point.

The most recent culprit, and the most shocking, was a handful of Skittles, one which hit him directly in his left eye. If there is a silver lining of that moment, it's that he only had to get through performing 'Kiwi' before he was able to run backstage and immediately have it taken care of.

He tries not to show anger on stage when things like that happen. He loves his fans. He always wants to treat them with kindness, acceptance, and gratitude. So he doesn't draw much attention to it. There has only been one occasion or two where he has subtly asked for some fans to stop throwing things.

Tonight, however, might be his tipping point.

Harry has brushed off the frustration from the rock hard candy incident, because tonight is a new night and a new show.

There is also the new trumpet player, YN. Well, she isn't new per say, she's been there since the tour came back to North America, but she is the newest member of the band, and the one Harry has become extremely fond of.

She fits in perfectly with the rest of the group. She is so kind, so joyful, and everyone seems to be energized just by her presence. Including Harry. Especially Harry. The moment she walked into the trial rehearsal, he felt an electricity course through his veins that he's never felt before. He shook it off as a mere, and mild, physical attraction. Then she started to play, and he was taken into a trance by her talent and passion. Then she spoke, and he felt his heart flutter more than ever.

He knows he has a crush, one that he can't talk about or act on, but it doesn't stop the forming of a grin when the horn players walk up onto the stage. It doesn't stop the goosebumps he feels when they all begin to play, being able to pick out the sound of her specific instrument. It doesn't stop the thought that those songs, the ones where they get to be there together, may just be his favorite ones to perform.

So when 'Satellite' ends, and after a good chat with the crowd, reading their signs, the four horn players make their way up the stairs as 'Cinema' begins, causing his heart to flutter and his current smile to stretch out into a wide grin.

When they play an extended introduction for 'Music For A Sushi Restaurant', he takes the opportunity to get some water and give her a quick smile, hoping that he actually does see a blush form on her cheeks, even behind her trumpet.

He stays on the outside of the stage for that song, but gets even more excited when the band begins to play 'Treat People With Kindness'. This means YN will move to one of the outside corners, which also means he'll get to be closer to her as he moves around during the song.

He makes sure to pass by her any chance he gets, but tries hard not to make his intentions too obvious, to the crowd or to YN. She's a part of his band, and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, even if she does appear to reciprocate any smile or slightly flirtatious comment he makes. He wants any move made to be on YN's terms. However, that won't stop him from taking this opportunity to share a little dance with her.

"Wait for it… wait for it… wait for it. One, two, three, four!"

As the crowd shouts out the chorus, Harry stations himself next to her, moving his hips side to side, causing her to pull back from her instrument and let out the most amazing laugh.

He's going to do that every time from now on, just so he can hear that again.

That song ends, and she moves into the center with the rest of the horn players, walking through to the other side of the stage as they start their intro for 'What Makes You Beautiful'.

He moves back to the mic stand in front of the walkway, trying to catch glimpses of her every so often, as she stands near the corner to his left.

"I don't know why you're being shy, and turn away when I look into your eyes."

He takes a few steps to his left, pointing his arms out to the fans and encouraging them to sing the bridge.

At that moment, something whizzes over in his direction and lands by his feet. He takes a quick look down, and then to his left, noticing that YN has moved a few feet over to the other side of the stage. He sees Mitch taking a couple of glances over to her as well, mouthing something, but she nods and continues to play.

As the final chorus nears, the four horn players move back to the center of the stage to play the last parts of the song.

He grabs his mic from the stand and engages the crowd, instantly requesting that they applaud for the horn players. He watches as YN gives a wave to the crowd, confused as to why she isn't doing it as vibrant as normal. She could just be tired, though she usually pushes through it, but it's been an intense leg of the tour in Los Angeles.

The time between that and 'Late Night Talking', while Parris plays his beautiful solo, is usually one of his favorite moments, because he has a little bit more time to interact with her on stage. Even if it's only a quick comment or joke, he loves it and takes what he can get. But as he moves closer to grab his water bottle, he sees her talking to Pauli, who swiftly hands her a spare face cloth that he keeps by him.

Harry immediately frowns and quickens his pace over to her.

"What's wrong?"

She wipes herself off and shakes her head, keeping her gaze downward. He can't remember a time where she wasn't happy and bright. But now she looks embarrassed, and sad, which pains him to see.

"Some… something hit me."

"What? Where? How?" He blurts out, not even fully able to process what she is explaining had occurred.

"A fan threw something. I don't know what it was." She sighs, flickering her gaze up to him with a troubling expression across her face.

"Shit. Are you alright?" He steps closer to her, unintentionally placing his hand on the middle of her back, and he feels her shiver under his touch. He removes it, his eyes fixated on her, and he feels some relief when he sees a small smile appear on her face.

"I'll be okay." She assures him. Her trumpet lifts up to her lips, the ones he has wondered what they would feel like against his, and he realizes that Parris has finished his part. "Let's get on with it."

He bites his lower lip as she gives him a wink, and feels a blush form on his own cheeks. If she knew what she does to him, she probably wouldn't be doing that. But he'll take it.

He sings through the second chorus on the closest walkway, still giddy at the fact that he can pick out her trumpet from the others, and he just knows she is swaying back and forth to the lyrics as she always does.

However, he turns around to make his way back, pointing his mic back out to the crowd, and when he sees YN again, she is holding her fingers against the spot over her left eyebrow.

Instantly his chest tightens and he bounces back over there as the song ends. She makes her way back to the center with the others while he takes a quick gulp of water, turning around when they begin to play 'Watermelon Sugar'.

"I'm bleeding." He hears her state to Parris.

"Okay. Go." Parris replies, and Harry follows after her.

"YN." He tries to shout without causing too much of a fuss, but she steps down the stairs, and he clenches his jaw as he watches her make her way backstage.

This isn't good, and he really hopes he can get through this song now.

"Alright, if… if you know this one, please… please do sing along." He stumbles through his words, his eyes still glaring over to the spot where YN exited.

Performing this one isn't as fun this time, though the crowd are probably none the wiser, as he keeps his professionalism as intact as possible. But it is different. She's usually on the walkway in front of him, dancing away as she plays, causing his heart to flutter each time she moves.

He either closes his eyes or moves around the stage a bit, hoping to momentarily distract himself from her, and stay focused on the music. At least to get through the song.

And thankfully he does.

As soon as it ends, the rest of the horn players make their way off the stage, and Harry immediately rushes over to his little setup in front of Pauli.

"Start playing, but I want to talk with the crowd for a moment." He states into the band mic, for only the crew to hear.

They softly play the melody of 'Love of My Life' and he raises his hand as if to signal that he has something to say.

"Thank you Los Angeles, so much, for all of your support. I, more than anyone, know that I couldn't do this without all of you. I hope you have had a great time." The crowd cheers, and stomps, and he responds with some kisses blown around the venue. Then his expression becomes a bit more solemn and he turns back to the mic. "I want to say that my number one priority for everyone here tonight has been safety. That includes everyone on stage as well."

The crowd immediately hushes, which usually doesn't happen without his lead, and it shocks him. But hopefully it means they'll hear his message.

"I always encourage you to dance, sing, and interact. I always suggest that you treat everyone with kindness. And now, I also ask that you please think about these amazing people on stage, and refrain from throwing things that could potentially hurt someone. One of our members was hurt during a song tonight and unfortunately had to leave." He pulls back, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. "We want to be able to keep doing this with you for as long as possible, so we all need to make sure that safety is our top priority. So let's keep it safe and have some more fun. How does that sound, Los Angeles?"

He holds two thumbs up to the fans, swiveling around while everyone begins to cheer again, and walks over to his mic for the next song. The last one before their little break, and before their encore. He'll be done soon.

He knows his energy has diminished a bit, which is fine for 'Love of My Life', because his mind is back on YN. He desperately wants to know if she is okay. Needs to know, at this point.

During the break before their encore, Harry rushed underneath and pleaded with the crew to find out what had happened to YN, and whether she's being taken care of. They assured him that she is fine, but he couldn't get rid of his worry.

He put on his best entertainer persona for the last three songs, feeding off the excitement of the crowd to get him through until the end.

But once 'Kiwi' was finished, he blew kisses to the fans and sprinted backstage, immediately feeling frantic.

"Jeff-"

"H, man, you doing okay?" His manager asks, concern all over his face.

"Where is YN?" Harry quickly asks, not even bothering to answer about himself.

"Huh?"

"Where's YN? She got hit by something. She had to get off stage. Where'd she go?" He asks, feeling frazzled like he never has before.

"Oh. Uh, I haven't seen her, maybe-"

Harry strides off, not really knowing which direction to head, but willing to walk all over the place to find her.

He sees another familiar face, feeling some hope that she'll have an answer.

"Lorren, where's YN?" He asks, hoping his tone is a bit more calm than it was with Jeff, but knowing he could be failing.

"She's in the common room." Lorren replies, a small smirk forming suddenly. "She's okay, Harry."

His eyes grow wide and he stands up straighter, more stable, more casual. Or at least trying to.

"Yeah. Of course. I just… wanted to check in with her." He utters, but her intrigued, raised eyebrow tells him that she doesn't accept his answer.

"Harry…" She chuckles. "I know you care about her more than that…"

"What? No-... I mean…" He sighs, running a ringed hand through his sweaty hair. "Shit."

Lorren laughs again and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Your secret is safe with me."

He nods and feels a hot burn flooding his cheeks, not even attempting to hide it since she clearly knows she's right.

"Does she fee-" He begins, immediately stopping as he sees her pull her lips inward. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter. I'm just… gonna check on her."

Lorren nods and smiles, squeezing his shoulder then pointing down the hallway.

"Good luck…" She teases as she walks away.

"What?"

"Nothing." She replies, already opening the door to another room.

He takes a deep breath and turns back around to the direction he needs to go, his steps faster the closer he gets to the room she is occupying.

He opens the door without hesitation, instantly seeing YN sitting on the sofa with an ice pack held on her face, and her phone in the other hand.

He clears his throat as he takes a few steps towards her, slower than they were in the hallway, and his heart pounds faster than it just had been.

"Hello." He utters, not wanting to startle her. She shoots her gaze up to him and he feels butterflies as she immediately smiles. She may have looked different on stage after the incident, but he is happy to see that her bright demeanor seems to have returned. His concern begins to melt away.

"Hi." She responds, putting her phone down, along with the ice pack. She winces as she does, and as he moves to the sofa, he finally sees the large gash on her forehead.

His heart sinks, and he is thankful for the close proximity to the furniture, because his knees almost give out completely as he takes a seat next to her, on the opposite side of where her cut is.

"Fuck, YN, are you alright?" He inquires, his gaze flickering between her gorgeous, sparkling eyes and her anger-inducing wound. His jaw instantly clenches and his palms ball into fists. He can't believe this happened, especially to her. His gaze drops, and he begins to fill with guilt. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."

Suddenly, he feels the warmth and soft touch of her hand on his, causing the tension in his palms to release right away.

"It's not your fault, H. And I'm okay."

He looks up to her again, being met with the gaze he tries hard not to get lost in, but fails every time he's close enough to see it.

"I just…" He sighs and shakes his head, not entirely sure what he wants to express, and worried it could be more than he should. "I just want to… know that you're alright."

"That's sweet." She utters, a tenderness in her tone. He smiles at the irony of her attempt to calm him, when it should be the other way around. "I am. I am alright."

A squeeze of YN's hand grabs his gaze once again, and he just sits in silence as he, once again, gets lost in her eyes.

His hand unintentionally reaches up, gently resting under her chin as he turns her head to view her wound, sighing once more at the sight of it. His thumb reaches up, gliding over her skin, right under the cut, and a tingle rushes over him.

A strong exhale leaves her mouth and he turns her head back to him, his eyes tracing the lines of her lips. He looks back to her gaze, his breath hitching at her beauty, and his body acts on his feelings as he leans in, gently pressing his lips against her own.

She lets out a small sigh, which snaps him back to reality, and he pulls back.

"Shit. I'm… fuck, I'm sorry." His hand drops and he scoots his body further away from her, feeling every ounce of embarrassment possible. He didn't want to make the first move, if there was even one to be made. What if she didn't want it? What if she hated it? "Fuck."

"Please, don't…" She clears her throat, a sudden timidness in her tone. "Please don't be sorry."

Harry's heart begins to race, and he glances up to see her smile. However, a knock on the half-closed door causes both their heads to turn that way, and they both sit up straighter.

"I finally found a bandaid." A venue staff member states, handing it to YN and walking out.

She begins to open it up, removing the strips and exposing the sticky sides, then looks around the room for a mirror.

"Here." Harry reaches out, grazing her hand, and regaining her attention. "Let me."

She hands him the bandage, and he scoots closer again, their thighs barely touching, but just enough for his stomach to fill with butterflies.

He gently places the band-aid over her cut, gliding his thumb over the corners to make sure they stay secured. His gaze drops down, and his breath hitches as he sees her gazing up to him through her lashes.

His palm slides down and rests on her cheek, and she tilts her head upwards, their lips hovering in front of each other.

"Thank you." She whispers, her own hand placing itself on top of his.

Harry attempts to swallow down the lump stuck in his throat, but is interrupted by the sudden soft pressure against his lips. He lets out a quiet whimper, and her hand moves around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. His mouth begins to move with hers, and the tip of his tongue teases the gap between her lips.

She suddenly pulls away, and a frown forms on his face, until her gaze flickers to the door and he hears the chatter in the hallway that must have caused her to stop.

He pushes back, only out of caution and respect for both of their privacy, and grins when he sees her blush.

"You know, I've had recent experience with eye injuries."

"Right. You have." She giggles.

"If you want… you don't have to… but if you want to, you… you could come to my suite." He clears his throat. "To hang out. And I can keep an eye on that injury for you."

"No pun intended." She laughs, and his grin, surprisingly, grows wider. She's still so bright, and he's already down bad.

"I…" She begins, another blush instantly taking over her delicate skin. "I wouldn't mind seeing you looking at me a little more tonight."

"Oh my god." He breaths out, swiftly throwing his palms over his face.

He feels her fingers wrap around his wrist and removes his hands to find her standing in front of him. She tugs on his arm, and he lifts himself off the chair.

"Then maybe I'll get the chance to do the same." She states, biting her lower lip before letting him go and moving around the room to grab her stuff.

Yeah. He's definitely down bad, and despite her being injured, this just may end up being the best show by far.

Main Masterlist

If you like what I post, and want to just send some extra support, I have a ko-fi account. Even the smallest amount is greatly appreciated. There is no obligation or expectation to donate, because I am honestly just so grateful that you're here! 💗 Bee xx

Overall: @watermelonsugacry @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @theroosterswife24 @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @qualitygiantshoepsychic @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @fool4him @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @tw1nflamebruis3

@hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @sagcas-latte @msolberg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever

If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you

[sparkedblaze]

now, consider. jack taking morris’ blankie as revenge for oscar stealing and destroying medda’s book.

it takes him a long time, but he figures it out eventually, that it had to have been oscar that took it. they’d been the only ones outside of the family that had seen it that day.

the next time medda visits the brothers, trying to work through everything and maybe see if oscar’s willing to confess to taking the book, jack goes with her. he calls it a “surprise”, and they both know it won’t go over well - least of all because neither of the brothers deal well with surprises - but medda’s too wrought to really fight it. she knows her boys fighting is inevitable at this point, and she’d rather they at least do it where she can try and mediate.

needless to say, it doesn’t go over well. oscar is furious when he sees medda and jack at his and morris’ hotel suite door, but medda manages to bargain them in to sitting down and talking for a minute or two. morris is as eager as he always is, joining medda on the couch when she invites him over, rocking and chewing his fingers and talking quietly with her. oscar’s occupied with his brother, making sure medda doesn’t say anything to upset him, so jack pretends he needs the bathroom and goes off. and, once again, he sneaks into the brothers’ room and swipes morris’ blankie from the edge of his bed - even more worn now than it had been then.

he doesn’t have a plan. he’s not thinking particularly clearly. he doesn’t even fully understand how much it means to morris or why, to him it’s still just an object, he doesn’t understand HOW significant it is to morris - he assumes morris must’ve grown out of it, at least mostly. he just wants to hurt oscar, desperately. he wants to get revenge for his mama and every awful tear she’d cried over her lost book - revenge for how oscar had shrugged and averted his gaze when medda’d asked about it a minute ago, said he didn’t know anything in that cold tone jack hates so damn much - and he knows the best way, maybe the only way, to hurt oscar is to hurt morris.

when the “conversation” immediately, inevitable, all goes to shit when jack returns, he leaves quickly with medda, not putting up any sort of fight for once. oscar’s shouting and morris is making noises as they’re kicked out, but jack feels some cold, hollow bit of satisfaction, as he leaves with morris’ precious ugly blanket stuffed under his jacket.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F-

Ohohohhoho T/w: Cursing, violence, angy Os, fighting, did I mention violence?

This one got so fucked up, y'all. I'm (kind of) sorry.

‼Warning this is my most graphic one yet‼

‼I am begging you to proceed with caution‼

‼Super graphic stuff has red text warnings before and after‼

Nox I hope you're proud

~

Oscar raises seven kinds of hell. He knows it was Jack. He knows he did it on purpose. And he knows Medda is gonna defend him with all her might.

He doesn't care.

There's nothing stopping him now. Morris is a wreck. He's wailing and screaming and physically sick with not having his blanket. There's nothing Oscar can do to console him. There's nothing more for him to do.

He leads Morris out to the car, has to practically drag him out there. Morris is clinging to a massive bag of sour skittles, he's chewing on the soft flesh in the palm of his hand, he's whimpering and howling and shrieking.

And Oscar's done with it. He's done with Jack Kelly thinking he can do anything he wants and get away with it. "C'mon Mo, we're goin' to see Medda."

That, at least, has an effect on Morris. He's quieted from full blown screeching to loudly sobbing into one of the pillows they kept in the car. Oscar makes sure he's buckled in before he starts driving, knuckles white as he holds tightly to the steering wheel.

He makes the trip in record time. He swerved into a parking spot, throws the door open, and slams it shut. He moves to the other side, helping Morris out before he storms up to the front door, pounding on it.

He's going to drop Morris off here. He wants Medda to see exactly what her precious little Jackie did to his baby brother.

What he doesn't expect is blue-eyed Davey to open the door.

His brows furrow as he recognizes the brothers. "What-"

"Out of the way," Oscar demands, trying to shove past him, eyes searching behind him for Medda.

The boy doesn't budge, frowning at him. "No. Why are you here? What do you want? Jack's-"

"Don't." Oscar snaps at him, and Davey's mouth snaps closed. "Where's Medda?"

Morris's hand finds the back of Oscar's shirt, tangling in it as he tries-and fails- to control his sobbing.

Davey turns to call for Medda over his shoulder, though he still doesn't step out of the way.

Medda emerges from the kitchen, smile on her face as she starts talking without looking up.

The smile falls as soon as she takes in the scene.

She hustles over, waving Davey out of the way, and ushering her boys in. She looks them over, checking for any physical damage. She tries to reach out for Morris, but he cries out, and Oscar moves in seconds, hand gripping her wrist to stop her. "Don't."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Davey scoffs from his spot across the room, indignant that they're treating her this way when she's just let them into her home.

Oscar turns a searing stare on him. The kind of look that-if looks could kill- would've had Davey gone six times over.

"You'd better shut your trap. Lucky I ain't already broke your nose and busted your teeth," Oscar snarls at him. "It's your boy's fault this is happening in the first place."

"My boy- you mean Jack?" Davey asks, almost a laugh in his voice.

"Think somethin's funny?!" Oscar jumps to his feet, lunging for Davey, but Medda takes him by the arm, holding him just out of reach.

He turns to her with an incredulous look on his face, but she just shakes her head. "Oscar, you know you can't stay if you're going to fight."

He swallows hard around the heat rising in his throat. He has to stay complacent. He has to take every hit to his pride so Morris can be safe.

He chokes on it.

Oscar shakes his head, yanking his arm away from her. "Take care o' Mo."

(It's about to get hella graphic plz be careful. I'm gonna put more red text at the end of the graphic stuff)

He storms out, going to the car, trying to ignore the wailing and weeping he can hear, even from outside.

Davey's suddenly beside him, hand on his arm, saying... something. Oscar can't hear it past the roaring in his ears. He can't find it in himself to care enough to listen.

He slams his head against Davey's, watching with dim satisfaction as he crumples to the ground. Oscar digs through his pockets, pulling out his wallet, finding his license. He punches the address into his gps, tossing the card back down as Davey stirs.

He climbs back into his car, and heads off.

He finds their house with relative ease. He marches up to the door, banging wildly on it, demanding to be let in.

The door swings open, revealing the man of the hour.

Jack Kelly

Oscar doesn't even wait for him to say anything before he pounces, both of the men crashing to the ground. Oscar has him pinned before Jack can do much of anything, and just starts whaling on him.

He doesn't think. He can't think. There's too much in him. Too many emotions. Too much anger that he's always just pushed down for Morris's sake. But, Morris isn't here.

Jack finds an opening enough to shove him off, and he tries to pin Oscar, but he isn't as practiced.

Oscar stands, chest heaving with his breaths as he kicks Jack down again. "Where is it?"

Jack is struggling to breathe, and Oscar can see it in the way he's moving and wheezing and struggling to stand. "Where's Mo's blanket?"

Jack staggers to his feet, breaths still coming out in wheezes. He glares at Oscar, trying to comprehend just what was being asked of him. He's seriously doing this over that fucking blanket? Nothing's changed. It's been almost two decades since they lived under the same roof, and Oscar Delancey hasn't changed one bit.

(This is the end of the super graphic stuff. There's mention of it further down, but nothing like what's between the red)

Still, he knows first hand that Oscar won't stop until he gets what he's looking for. Jack nods, holding tightly to his aching ribs, and disappears into the hall, leaving Oscar standing in the foyer alone.

Jack gets back quickly, throwing the blanket at Oscar-stupid ratty thing was worthless anyhow. "There. Now, get out."

Oscar holds tightly to the blanket, checking it over for damage. At least, more damage than it had had before. "You got a lotta nerve comin' to our house and takin' Mo's stuff. Him ain' done nothin' to you."

Jack has the audacity to laugh. Face beaten and bloodied, and he laughs?!

Oscar steps forward again, taking a sick sort of satisfaction in the way Jack cowers away from him.

"It's just a stupid blanket!" Jack huffs out, leaning against the wall. "What the hell does it matter if I have it or not?!"

"It ain't yours. That's what matters 'bout it. You don't get to do whatever you want," Oscar sneers, clutching the blanket tighter to his chest as he starts for the door. "Oh, and Kelly?"

Jack raises a brow, a soft "Hm?" escaping him.

"If you ever even think of hurting my little brother again, you gonna lose everyone you care about." He slammed the door closed behind him, going back for the car.

The drive back to Medda's, Oscar thinks over everything that had happened. His stomach sinks at the thought of what he might find when he gets back. Morris clawing and hitting and trying to find him. He isn't sure what he'll be like when he gets there. They've never been apart longer than a few minutes. And here he is, storming off. He's no better than the adults they grew up with, letting his anger take over and control him.

He's such an idiot.

He pulls back into his parking spot, Davey long gone from the sidewalk. He takes the blanket in his arms and makes his way to the door once more. He knocks, much softer than before, eyes welling with tears that he tries to hide when the door swings open again.

Medda pulls him in, wrapping her arms around him, one hand patting his back, the other curled securely around the back of his head. He gives a half-hearted attempt to push her away, though he ends up just sobbing against her chest for a moment. When he realizes Davey is sitting just across the room, he does pull away, wiping at his eyes.

"Where's Mo?" he croaks, and Medda gives him a small smile, patting his cheek.

"He's in your room, dear."

Oscar frowns at her. "He's... what?"

She leads him down the hall, to the very last door on the left, and opens it for him.

To say that Oscar is floored would be an understatement.

It's exactly like he remembers. Right down to the blue walls with the little daisies painted on them.

But

"Why?"

"I told you before you left, hun." Medda ruffles his hair, a show of affection she knows she may never get to do again. One she knows she's only getting to do now because both brothers are too vulnerable to deny. That Oscar doesn't have the energy left for a fit about being touched or doted on or pitied. "My kids always have a home here."

Oscar almost can't move. He's too overwhelmed by the thought that she'd kept it exactly how he'd left it.

And then, his eyes land on the sleeping form on the bed, and he crosses the threshold.

Medda closes the door behind him, and Morris whines as Oscar climbs into bed next to him. He tucks the blanket under Morris's arm, and kisses his head.

"Sorry, Mo... I had to get your blanket."

[highcaliberhxrserescue]

A New Rescue Has Arrived~!

Bio Under The Cut: It's A Long one~!

Registered Name: Skittles Plain Jane

Barn Name: Skittles

Breed: Quarter Horse

Sex: Mare (Female)

Age: 6 years old

Heights: 14.1 hands high (4 ft 7 in at the shoulder)

Weights: 1000 lbs

Coat Color: Bay (Aka brown)

Mane/tail Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Auction Tag: #8897

Occupation: Riding Horse, Rescue Project at Hi-caliber Horse Rescue

Dam (Mother): Jane's Lucky Dutch {Registered mare, World Champion Western Pleasure Horse}

Sire (Father): Skittle's N Bits {Registered Stallion, World Champion Reining Horse}

Current Status: Rescue Horse, Needs A Trainer/Adopter

Special Abilities: Can talk to humans

Temperament:

Skittles is about as plain as they come, but her goofy personality more than makes up for it. She's extremely playful and has a tendency to steal pretty much anything she can grab a hold of in order to use it as a toy. She's very sweet and friendly but be warned...She will stick her tongue out at you if given the chance! Oh, and don't be alarmed about the random times she'll put her mouth on your arm...She's just bored and wants something to suck on, but she's never actually bitten anyone in her life.

Skittles has a few other goofy little quirks that make her a bit of an unusual case. If you're rocking out to some music in the stables, you may catch her dancing along with you inside her stall, or in the barn isle if she's waiting to go for a ride! She LOVES butt scratches and may end up backing you into a corner, but she'll never kick. Just scratch her booty and she's happy as a clam...Plus you'll get a funny face to match!

In terms of ridden work, Skittles knows most of the basics, but needs more time with a rider and will give you her all no questions asked every time you step up in the saddle. She's always got a happy bounce in her step and never seems to run out of energy, she can easily go for hours without getting very tired.

She may not be the most experienced horse out there, but she'll sure as hell try her hardest to make you happy. just be warned that occasionally she may reach around and try to nibble on your boot.

History:

Skittles was born on a large breeding ranch with many other colts and fillies her age. Many of them were flashy, big and beautiful even as young as they were. And yet Skittles was small, plain in color and a strange mix of wider than she was tall, with knobby knees and lanky legs.

Despite her plain appearance, she developed her playful, goofy personality at only a few weeks old and very quickly became a barn favorite around the stables. All the staff loved to play with her whenever they could and she followed them like a dog. Even the owner of the ranch took a liking to her, though unfortunately wasn't able to keep her due to already having several that he had already planned on training to be the next champions.

When she turned one year old, Skittles was taken to a yearling sale where she sold for the low price of only 2,000 dollars due to her plain appearance. Despite this, her new owner was quickly enamored with the filly and grew very attached to her as soon as Skittles revealed her sweet nature and silly antics. They went everywhere together and, once she was broke to ride, her owner even took her through fast food drive throughs and would get her whipped cream from starbucks every now and then.

Skittles lived happily on her owner's little farm, goofing off with her three other horses until the day she turned five years old. Due to financial difficulties within her owner's life, she was willingly surrendered to High Caliber Horse Rescue along with her three other companions, who quickly got adopted only six months after arriving.

Skittles is still searching for her perfect person, so if you're looking for a try-hard partner with the silliest personality of all the horses at the rescue, she'd make a perfect match! Especially for a teenager who just wants a friend to play with!

[neverluckygoldfish]

2 -

*trigger warning: substance abuse, depression, alcoholism*

I washed my hair today. Writing that out — it looks and feels silly to make that a win. Doesn’t everybody wash their hair, shower, brush their teeth, eat, sleep….everyday? It’s our basic needs that we learn as a child and somewhere along the lines, I lost control of all of them. I’ve struggled with all of these throughout my life, but for the past 2-5 years, they’ve really fallen off.

So yeah, I washed my hair. The big thing here is that I WANTED to. The thought of taking my clothes off, being naked, and the sensation of water on my skin didn’t fill me with extreme fear at being so vulnerable and exposed. And afterward? I felt good. I’d go so far as to say rejuvenated even. I looked forward to showering again tomorrow. Hi, it’s me and I am growing!!!!

After this, I’m going to brush my teeth. For the first time. In 10 days. I know, it’s disgusting but hey, that’s depression (no one said it was pretty).

I’ve been going to recovery meetings every day and reflecting on my life. How did I get to this point? I’m almost 30 and this is nowhere close to what I expected. I’m not entirely sure what I expected, actually. Sure — I have hopes and dreams, but I’ve also just floated along. My mom used to call me “a leaf in the wind”.

If you had asked me, before everything blew up last week — I would have told you that my life is not where I want it to be but “I’m working on it. No idea how I got here, but I’m handling it. Sure, I struggle with alcohol & drugs, but I can control it”. I can’t. That would have been a lie. And yet, I consider myself a pretty honest person.

Now, I realize that it wasn’t one massive spontaneous combustion, but a million little fires that were never put out, continually smoldering underneath throughout my life. That shit hurts to carry.

In AA, they talk a lot about God. Surrendering to Him, as you understand him. I’ll be honest, I have some mixed feelings about this God character. I’m a facts-based, evidence person. (Except when I’m feeling anxious or insecure, bc then I looooove to believe shit I have no basis for). I lean towards science/an agnostic view. Proof. I also tend to believe everything is meaningless. But I feel desperate lately, to surrender to something beyond myself. Because I tried surrendering to myself as I am and well, this me is all over the place and loves to get high lol.

I’d like to think of God as a greater power, but within myself. A greater She that I haven’t been able to tap into. Because of unprocessed childhood trauma, which left me feeling alone with no sense of self-esteem. That instead of reaching inwardly for Her, I chose to cloud my thoughts, feelings, and view of the world with drinking & drugs. No self-judgment here. It was just easier and in a way, it was what I knew. But I’m starting to believe in Her. She, who is truly honest, resilient, kind, and compassionate. Each day, I get closer to reconciling the greater She with me as I am today.

I’m feeling more and more chipper as each new day comes. But I also feel an undercurrent of anxiety growing. I try to take it one day at a time. But I get so restless and easily overwhelmed, then I spiral & I don’t know what to do with myself. My therapist says “Young lady, you need to stay busy or you’ll get into trouble”. But my ADHD brain says I DON’T WANT TO PLAN. EW GROSS WORK!!!

And, in the spirit of honesty, I’m eating some sour skittles for breakfast. It’s progress, not perfection people! Don’t worry, I’m also drinking a protein shake too bc like, health.

I’ll make it a point to end these with one thing I am grateful for/one thing that has brought me a glimpse of happiness:

I got my first AA chip! My first meeting, I was the only newcomer. It was Friday night & there were people of all sobriety ages. I cried. I felt so brittle, so broken and at rock bottom. Everyone in that meeting, I mean literally EVERYONE, welcomed me with open arms (read: actual hugs) & told me to hang in there. I’ve never felt so comforted, and by strangers nonetheless.

Sincerely, I.

[magmahearts]

[pm] I'm pretty sure we're the cutest. I did a poll of the entire world, and it was unanimous. So. [...] Next season, definitely. I'll come to every single game. I'll buy pompoms and a miniskirt. You're gonna get so tired of hearing me on the sidelines. I don't know any of the rules to soccer, but I've seen Ted Lasso so I'm pretty sure I can keep up.

Ren can definitely talk bugs with you. I think she'd probably like to have a friend who could keep up with her there, too. I know I'd love to have someone who knew a lot about volcanos. [...] I think that would be really fun if she wants me there.! Oh, I've never heard of that place. I hope they have something that can help her. I think Ren needs more wins in her life.

Bone nymphs? [user considers this.] I don't really know. I mean, obviously rock nymphs are. And plant nymphs, and tree nymphs, and bug nymphs, and water nymphs... I think it would make sense for there to be bone nymphs, too. Yeah! They're probably just super rare or something. Why?

Bet. I'll download it so we don't have to worry about stupid buffering and don't have to pay the Mouse anything. (I think it's Disney. I don't really know. But, like, what isn't Disney these days? They bought out everyone else!)

[pm] Oh, okay. If you want to give him a pass, he gets a pass. It's nice that he's worried about you, at least. Everybody deserves to have people worry about them, I think. Gummy Skittles? I've never heard of those, but I definitely want to try them, too! Wanna share?

[pm] We are very cute. That's how it should work for us. If it doesn't, I'm gonna have to talk to the universe's manager or something. [user is blushing and smiling at her phone] You know, I don't hate it. Actually, I kind of love. Too bad I can't play soccer this season, that t-shirt would be perfect. Maybe next season?

Good, because I definitely wouldn't mind having a friend who also likes talking about bugs a bunch. [...] We could all hang out and exchange rock, bug, and plant facts! Oh, I told her about this shop called Hidebehind Cosmetics on Amity. I've never looked into it, but their advertisements kind of definitely hint towards that.

I have a fae question, actually... are bone nymphs are thing? Because I'm pretty sure the medical examiner is a bone nymph if they are.

Anti-capitalist ants? We're watching this tonight. Bugs and popping off on capitalist plus cuddling with my girl? That's like so many of my favorite things.

[pm] We might give France a pass even if he calls during movie night. [...] I know he's worried about me especially after the full moon and I was admittedly being kind of an asshole to him on purpose. So, he gets one free pass. Wow, I'm getting spoiled here. Aria mentioned Gummy Skittles so I've been wanting to try them!

[afro-hispwriter]

Straight Away(Battinson)

The Batman 2022

summary- Bruce knows what he did but he just cant face you. But you already know.

warnings- angst, breaking up, cheating

taglist-@blue-aconite @cursedandromedablack @philiasoul @a-little-disguised @pop-rocks-and-skittles @xingqiusliegee @lana-isabelle @dopeqff

(sorry if i missed you please let me know or if you want to be added)

A/n- I HAVE YET TO WATCH THE BATMAN SO MY INFORMATION ISNT ACCURATE(yes its now on Hbo Max but today is my busy day so I'll watch it tomorrow lol)

Wc-1.1k

this fic goes great with the song ‘What You Did’ by Mahalia ft. Ella Mai- thank you @mysticalfairytales for the song recommendation:)

-

You had followed him. And following him may had been a mistake when you saw them share a kiss. In your head you prayed he'd push her away but he didn't. You slowly walked away from the scene as years blurred your vision and as bile rose up.

Bruce didn't know you had followed him. His plan was to just avoid you until he gets the courage to talk about it. But deep down he knew it would be a mistake.

When you got back to the manor you began packing a  suitcase and a backpack and then waited for him. It was about 4am when he came trailing through. He opened the door and was met with you sitting on the bed with red puffy eyes. 

"Y/n? You're supposed to be asleep." He says and looks down.

"I saw you kissing that woman." You say. "And you liked it, thats why you didn't push her away, probably why you were never going to tell me, thats why you looked so guilty the second you saw me. I know you Bruce Wayne." Bruce didn't say anything and and kept his eyes on the floor. "You can't even look at me."

"Can we talk about this after my shower?" He immediately says and speed walks to the bathroom door.

"Ya walk away, like you walk away from all of your problems." You say with your arms up in the air. Bruce slammed the door and leaned his arms against the counter. He looked up into the mirror before something caught his eye.

Where was your toothbrush?

Bruce opened the drawers and saw none of your products in in there. Then opened the shower door and only his stuff remained.

"Y/n!?" He called and burst out of the bathroom but you were gone. He opened the bed room door and looked down the long hallway to see you entering the elevator. "Y/n please stop." Bruce starts walking quickly but you settle in the elevator and look him. 

"We're done!" You call and click the button for the elevator to close faster. Bruce stopped in his tracks and tightened his fists then his jaw. 

"Fuck." He says and brings his hands up to his hair and tugs. He stomped back to the room and back tot he bathroom. He turned the shower on and sheds his clothes off. Bruce slid down the shower wall and let the water hit his back. 

-

You were crying in front of Wayne Manor trying to hail a cab. 

How long has he really known Selina?

Was he with you just for pity?

Does he even love you anymore?

All those questions ran through your head making more and more tears run down your face. You saw a cab pull up so you wiped your eyes. You placed your bags in the trunk and slide into the back seat.

"Where to miss?" Said the driver gruffly. He didn't seem trustworthy at all, buts it Gotham.

"Any motel closest to the subways." You say and he nods. The driver speeds off and you grip the side of the door.

Luckily you made it to the motel. You grabbed your stuff and paid the driver before they sped off again. You walked into the motel and asked for a room.

"We have a small bedroom but no-." 

"I'll take it." You cut them off and hand them your card. They handed you back the card along with a room key. You found the room instantly and once you were inside, you checked your phone. You were not shocked by the amount of messages.

Can we please talk?

Im sorry

Come back its not safe

Okay I admit it I liked the kiss but I couldn't figure put how to tell you

At least tell me you're safe 

I miss you y/n please come back

You rolled your eyes at the last message and blocked his number. You sat on the old bed and finally let yourself break down.

-

Bruce was freaking out. Pacing back and forth. He didn't want to track you but he just needed to know you're ok and not laying dead on the street. He walked down to the cave and checked your recent activity on the huge screen. Bruce sighed when he saw you were at a motel but something caught his eye.

You bought a train ticket out of Gotham.

"Shit." He mumbled and rubbed his face. Bruce closed out and flopped back into his chair. He's sure he fell asleep because when he woke up, the gloomy skies of Gotham was peeking through. A loud ringing appeared and Bruces eyes shot up.

Selina

Bruce was hesitant to answer, but what if somethings wrong? He answered and sighed.

"What?" 

"Well ok Batsy you're in a mood, we need to meet I have some information and...we need to talk." She says and hangs up immediately. Bruce huffed and stood to make his way to grab his suit. 

-

He saw Selina in the distance leaning against her bike. He pulled up by her and swung his legs off.

"What is it?" He asks her and she smiles.

"I know where your buddy the Riddler is." She says and holds up a flash drive. Bruce goes to grab it but she brings her hand back. "Im also leaving, so how about a goodbye kiss?" 

Bruce immediately shook his head. 

"No." 

"Okay." She sighs but keeps a smile and hands hik the drive. 

"Why are you leaving?" 

"Gotham isn't safe for me anymore, never was, plus I have some things to do outside the city." Selina then walks closer to him and raises a hand to his face. "You should come with me, the bat and the cat sounds nice right?" Bruce moved his face away from her hand and turned around.

"Im not leaving, take care." He didn't mean to sound so cold but he didn't want to keep standing there with her anymore. Bruce swung his legs back over the bike and turned it on.

"Take care bats." He hears her say. He connected the drive to his bike and saw the location was just a few miles from him. He began his drive through the city but then stopped. 

He turns right, he can end the Riddler. 

He continues straight, he makes it right with you.

Bruce thought for a second and gripped the handlebars and started again.

The Riddler can wait.

-

Sorry this is so short;(

[skittlesfairy]

Okay, veering sharply off into 'magic crystal' territory. I worked for years at a store that sold crystals, both to people looking for their properties and to people looking for beautiful specimens. I learned a lot about stones in general there, and while I'm no expert, a lot of this is sort of in bad faith. I'm absolutely sure that there are people out there putting wands and such places they shouldn't be but. But. Some people use them for energy channeling (think Reiki) and other people use them for massage. And not the kinky kind. We know medically that pressure points are a real thing and that massage has real, lasting benefits! Most people use the massage wands for massage. (I got the most amazing hand massage once from a woman who was demonstrating how to use them.)

Nothing good comes from yoni eggs.

The crystal dicks? While yeah, again there's probably people out there using them as dildos, there's easily more using them for focal points in ritual/spell work. Phallic objects and sex symbols have been used for millennia to do exactly that. Whether it's the hope that it'll help in bed, find a lover or help with conception - the crystal dick isn't a strange or controversial thing. And eggs are used a lot in the same way. (And some people just like to collect egg shaped things)

On the quartz, yeah it's every where. But finding quality pieces - and different people will have different opinions on what quality is best - can be difficult. (Though 1300 or whatever it was pretty crazy.) Some people are looking for rainbows or cool inclusions or lots of phantoms or how it grew or how many points or buddies it has or if it has something else that grew through it.

And finally, the idea of a crystal being a specific shape in general. The word crystal has been taken to mean any stone, not just specific stone. The first images are all of towers/points/obelisks. While those words aren't all exactly the same thing they are what people will generally ask when they mean that shape. There's a whole slew of people who believe that specific shapes have specific properties. The platonic solids are a thing. So many, many spheres back in the day when people wanted gazing orbs... Towers are what's popular right now so that's what's coming up most common in general searches.

So I wanted to know what kind of crystal could go in a wizard staff, right? so I googled “big crystal,” as one does, and got an Etsy ad for This

And as you all know I Am currently taking a geology class, so I am probably more emotionally invested in minerals than usual. But that is...very obviously not a natural crystal.

So I did some looking around on Etsy.

Now, these shops all seem to advertise to the “witchy”/“spiritual healing” type of person. And there are a lot of them. Crystals are a Big Thing on Etsy. And ALMOST ALL of them are obviously artificially cut into the same sort of prism with a triangular pyramid top, regardless of the actual sort of crystal it is supposed to be.

Even like, fucking, obsidian. Obsidian is volcanic glass, it doesn’t form crystals at all, it is not a crystal

I’m not throwing any shade at people who are into crystals for like witchy reasons, but it really seems like if crystals are spiritually important to you, you should know what a crystal is...right...?

[bungeenomin]

DELINQUENT- JAEMIN X Y/N SOCIAL MEDIA AU {29}

the second jaemin hears the knock on his door he runs to open it, he knows who it is by the knock. jeno and jaemin had established their special knock on their first ever day in boarding school, so the other would know it’s them and not some random teacher or student. 

jeno’s heart breaks a little when he see’s his best friend standing in front of him, tear stained cheeks, breathing erratically. he looks so vulnerable, so small. it’s been a long time since jeno has seen jaemin like this. “nana” jeno sighs, opening his arms to engulf the other boy in his warmth and comfort. that’s all it takes for jaemin’s sobs to fall loudly from his lips, gripping onto his best friend tightly. “it hurts so fucking bad jeno”

 “shh you’re okay nana, i’m here now. let’s get you inside”

jeno carefully carries jaemin over to his bed, placing him down softly on the masses of blankets. jeno sadly is very used to dealing with vulnerable jaemin, it’s something he’s had to see more often than he’d like to. no matter how many times jeno see’s jaemin likes this, his heart still breaks a little for his best friend every time. “c’mere nana” jeno says so delicately, opening his arms to his best friend. without hesitation, jaemin sits in jeno’s lap, snuggling into jeno’s neck. jaemin finds such a special type of comfort with jeno, and that’s something he’ll forever be grateful for. 

“j-jen”

“it’s okay nana, we’re gonna calm you down first, yeah? we can talk then” jeno replies empathetically at jaemin’s flustered attempt to talk. 

jeno is great at calming jaemin down. he knows all the little details about jaemin. he knows he loves his hair being played with, loves being as close to jeno as he can, loves being against jeno’s chest as it rises and falls, helping regulate his own breathing. jeno knows his best friend. 

“he’s inviting dad jen, he’s coming to the wedding” jaemin chokes out, burying his head further into jeno’s neck. 

“oh nana” jeno sighs, “i’m so fucking sorry. i really wasn’t expecting him to invite your dad?”

“neither was i” jaemin mumbles, wiping the stray tears that stream down his face with his sweater. “he’s always been up his ass. it hurts jen, after everything, he still has even an ounce of respect for that man”

“i know nana, but you know what? fuck your dad. you’re not going to let him get the best of you. you’re so fucking strong na jaemin, and a man like that doesn’t deserve your time or attention. as for tae, i know you both have dealt with things differently. taeyong is clearly more of a forgive and forget type person. but nana, don’t let his decision come between you two. you love him and he loves you even more. you know he’s always been here for you and always will be” jeno comfortingly whispers, rocking jaemin’s shaking body back and forth. 

“jen can you stay here tonight, please? i just want to lay down and cuddle” jaemin sniffles. 

“anything for you” jeno smiles softly, lying down, bringing jaemin with him. the two lay there silently, jeno cuddling the fragile boy with tears mutely streaming down his cheeks. 

“i love you jeno” 

“i love you more nana”

little does the broken boy know, there’s a girl on the other side of the wall curious as to why she can hear her neighbour with a hard exterior crying so intensely

__________________________________________

main masterlist | previous | next

let me know what you think!

social media!au jaemin!au nct!au

pairing: jaemin x reader

genre: boarding school!au badboy!au fluff smut angst

warnings: drinking, smoking

summary: when your boarding school is forced to close, you and your friends move to the next nearest boarding school, neo high. you’re full of nerves as you enter the school. will your roommate be nice? your classmates? the teachers? but what happens when the only other person with a single room, situated beside yours, is the boy you can only describe as a delinquent that knocked all your books on the floor after running into you in the hallway?

tag list:

@neocluefor @obligatoryidolblog @thatonekpopsweater @bubudays @ajhdr @yoongsicles @taeilsith @queen-of-himbos @uhyikesbro @your-favourite-skittles @whoe-dis @vitaminhyunjin @moonylvi @yancupidxhyunjin @ygiirl @markistheloveofmylife @nctxtrash @sweetbulletproof @simplicitysbabe @staysstrays @fabshua @key201303 @ksoolive @angelbyg @junglewoos @bby-kji9 @helo-xx @wassup-haeyadwae @wanlore @cloudykeiji @daisyxiao @skittlez-area512 @moseleyleyhey @hen-marks99 @xiaojunsmintchocci @dingzerenistall @notbeforelong @mindofthescattered @stayzenniesstuff @ily23hrj @lovelymultiwrites @yvesplz @bxbyeve @laylee79  @yangyangsberet @imsusx @neozcult @born5sos @dreamnbn

ask to be added!

[wheelfield]

max and mike headcanons for their friendship because it’s everything to me

trigger warning for mentions of death and abuse (they talk shit out yk)

max teaching mike to skateboard and showing off her skills

he’s brave enough that it actually starts to scare max and she subtly hangs near watching his footwork

max is a sweet-lover (think skittles, candy canes, strawberry ice cream, cotton candy) while mike enjoys chocolatey type things more (like kit kats, m&ms, cookies, muffins) and they always argue over which is best but they know exactly what each other likes because of all the arguments

max teases mike about the knitted sweaters his nana makes

one time he catches her absently stroking the sleeve of one of his. he gives her a weird look and she stops dramatically. she’ll deny it but it becomes a habit when they’re alone to the point where he gets fed up and asks his nana to knit her one. it ends up in the deepest depths of her closet, only brought out when she’s going to a special event and her mother insists that she dresses nicely or when she’s in dire need of comfort. it’s like her version of a teddy bear in those cases

they also have a special talent for annoying steve (this is kinda canon)

mike will never let max cook for him EVER it doesn’t matter if it’s a slice of buttered toast she’ll find a way to either purposely or accidentally mess it up

they’re late to school together. they just rock up late and then part ways acting like they don’t know each other

mike is the second person max opens up to after her heartwarming conversation with lucas on the bus. reason being- they have a lot of confrontations, and mike can be kind of insensitive in the heat of the moment, which is also true for max. she gets emotional, and he doesn’t know how to handle it, she rushes away, but he catches her, takes a moment to shove his anger aside, and gently asks if she wants to talk about it. she brushes him off, assuming he won’t take it seriously, shaking her head. he lets her go. but then when she feels comfortable another day, she tells him about her struggles at home and what it’s like to grieve billy, and how she blames herself for his death and for el losing her powers. (to which he stands by his point of being careful, and, annoyed, tells her she was being careless. but then he admits that he was being a little too harsh on max considering what she was going through with billy.) this prompts him to slowly go into how it felt thinking that will and el were dead and getting them back with pieces missing of who they used to be. watching his best friend fall prey to a monster and being powerless to stop it. getting el back only to lose her again and again, whether it was her being cooped up in the cabin or moving thousands of miles away. they cant go out in the dark alone any more, because mike and max expect a monster to be around the corner, dragging el by the ankles into its open jaws. and there’s tears, the tears they’ve been wanting to shed in the comfort of someone else’s company for so long. and i think that they are similar with their tough exterior and impulsiveness and extremely caring nature and their fear of losing people. so opening up doesn’t come easy to them, however it’s less difficult when they know it’s just as hard for the other person to talk about stuff, so they don’t rush each other, they just have a heart to heart in the warmth of mike’s basement that feels like it lasts forever.

[babylooneytoonz]

I'm Coming Home, Baby

Summary: Y/N and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry Esme and even though Tommy does feel bad he does it anyway. Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on Y/N and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous cause he will always love her. Then she is killed by the Italians and just people’s reactions.

Warnings: Heavy angst, character death.

Requested by : Anon

He was the first boy you ever befriended, shared your first kiss with. It happened on an old broken swing in the backyard of your house when you were only twelve.

You met John when he was thirteen. The memory was so fresh in your mind, even today, it made you feel like it was yesterday when you were hiding behind your mother, clutching the fabric of her skirt, your tiny little head poking out just to watch around, with your big (Y/E/C) eyes, when two boys rode into the plaza on a black horse. The older boy was probably 18, but your eye caught the eye of the younger one. You were so young; the concept of love was something you had not yet experienced. But now, if you thought about it, you loved that thirteen year old boy. Your love for him only evolved from wanting to have all his attention at all times, stealing his candies from his pockets, and playing skittles with him all day, to holding hands and walking by the river, stealing kisses when no one was looking.

There was a time when you two became so inseparable, you would spend hours together and you would spend your entire days with the Shelby family.

Then one day, you watched him leave, as the war was upon you all. There were tears, and you could hear hearts crack, the slow, horrid torture of sweethearts like you and John being separated, wives left alone as their husbands left them to go to war, mother's watched their sons leave. Polly had to hold you; tight against her chest for hours as you wept, after he had left, and you had no idea whether he would come back or not.

War changed you both. He witnessed so many atrocities , so much death and so much horror; the man that came back, his eyes had a holocaust, a deep rooted horror lurking within his irises. He would scream and thrash in his sleep, and no amount of pacifying could control him, except for you. But you had changed too by that time. You had lived without him for so long, you had lived with a constant worry and fear for so long, you had grown sombre and the fire that you possessed and the light in your eyes, that little twinkle, it was lost. You rarely spoke, when all you ever did once was talk. It was like you were now a walking, breathing corpse. Your heart still pumped blood, but that was all. You were a ruin, just like your lover. Things weren't the same anymore, thus, after war. No matter how hard you tried, John and you could not go back to what you used to be.

Although you the two of you weren't together, almost everyone knew that you belonged with each other. It was like you could understand what John wanted, even without him having to say it. Whenever John had a nightmare, you were the one holding him close, rocking him against your chest, while he clung on to you, hopeless and weak. You saw him at his worse, and so did he, many times, when the two of you fought, and you ended up breaking down.

All this love, all this pain, but you found comfort in your empty bed to think that John still loved you, it was the only blanket that gave warmth to your heart. However, one day, someone pulled that blanket off you, and the betrayal you felt shattered your soul.

You found out that Tommy had fixed John's wedding with one of the Lee's, Esme.

You didn't know what you hated more, or who you hated more. Was it John, who said yes and couldn't stick his arse up to his brother and say no ? Who could still look you in the eye claiming to still be in love with you even after being the one to scratch your heart out? Or was it Tommy? The man you looked up to as your elder brother? Who you trusted more than yourself, that he will never let you and John part your ways? Or was it Esme? The beautiful damsel who made you envy her? She was beautiful, she was young, and she was untouched by war, or that is what you thought. Maybe she would keep John happy, maybe she would be good for him, you kept repeating those words at the back of your mind again and again.

It was as though you couldn't breathe after that. You would sit up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, screaming at the top of your lungs, crying. At first, John did come, when your mother would telephone him and tell him what had happened, concerned and his eyes clouded in tears, watching you, wishing he could hold you, as your mother leant over the side of your bed and tried to calm you down but as the days to his wedding came closer, he stopped coming altogether.

You couldn't watch him take his vows, so you locked yourself in your room, having decided you were never going to step into the Shelby house again. The truth was, although they were your family, they were also your employers; you worked for Tommy Shelby, as one of his secretaries. If you left this job, you didn't know when you will find another job again.

Thus, a few days before John and Esme were to be married, you asked Tommy to give you a time off, for you needed it, to recuperate. And he did, without thinking twice. Tommy did what he had to do, it was a call of the moment, but it wasn't like he didn't know how much you or John were hurting. If giving you a chance to go on a much needed Vacation was something he could do to ease your pain, he would definitely do it.

You cried all night, a night before the love of your life married another woman. You sat in bed, hugging your feet closer to your body, thick salty tears spilling along your cheeks, your lip trembling and quivering. At times you would have to bring your palm up to press it against your mouth, for you had an urge to scream and to yell, but you didn't want to wake your neighbours. Little did you know, that outside your window, John had fixed himself, only his cigarette stick visible under the pale moonlight, for he wanted to make sure you were alright, and couldn't sleep without tossing and turning multiple times. Little did you know that he often wrote to you, but your mother burnt those letters before they could reach you; so they couldn't cause any more damage to you as this mess already had.

The next day, you left Birmingham City, having decided to get out of town, the first train to London, away from the chaos and the madness this city had brought upon you. Maybe a change will do you good. And you decided you will not come back, for there was nothing left there for you, except your mother but that was a different thing altogether.

You blocked it all out, all the hurt, all the anguish that you were feeling, swallowing it inside of you like a bitter pill, weeks after John and Esme Shelby were one, but one thing you couldn't do, was return back to work, for you didn't have it in you to face your biggest weakness. It had taken you weeks to stop feeling depressed all the time and you had finally learnt what it felt like when you had to just live on, putting on a brave face. You now knew what it meant when people said, things happen, and they don't really and most often don't happen the way we want them to, but life goes on, whether we like it or not.

Finally, fifteen long weeks after having gone without seeing John Shelby, one morning, you woke up in a puddle of your own sweat, thick hot beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Half lidded eyes, you reached for a glass of water to soothe your parched throat, but the anxiety and the fear bubbling up inside your heart didn't ease. You had to see him, to make sure he was okay. Nothing mattered to you in that second, when your heart was palpitating inside your chest and you were sat there, clutching your sheets and gasping for air.

You ran up into the living room, and fell next to the telephone ringing your mother, and cried on the phone, "I want to come back home mum, I thought I will feel better, but I don't, I just feel I will never feel better again."

You lied to yourself, that you were going back to Birmingham city, the first train you could find, so you could see your mother again, but your heart knew that it was much more complex than what it all looked like. Even after coming back, and spending all evening with your mum, you couldn't fill up the hollowness that you had been feeling in your heart. You knew there was only one way.

After much contemplation, walking down to the Garrison didn't seem like a bad idea to you; the Shelby's mostly spent their evenings at the Garrison, and you hoped you'll catch a glimpse of him from one of the windows, and you'll leave. It was a pale, moonless night, the winds were shallow, but you could still notice the winds, hitting your face, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The windows to the Garrison were mildly foggy as though they hadn't been scrubbed on in ages, but you could still see. You could see the Shelby's all standing inside, walking around, speaking to each other. He was standing there, in a pool of his family, Finn on one side and Arthur on another, his young boyish face gleaming underneath the golden ivory lighting of the pub. Also, a woman stood next to him, that you clearly recognised, Mrs. John Shelby.

Your heart still managed to skip a beat, when you saw a soft smile break out on his lips at probably a joke being cracked by Finn. Atleast he looked happy. When you were not.

"Excuse me? Is something wrong?"

A voice called out to you, causing your eyelids to expand, and your hand to fly upwards, your fingers managing to push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Slowly, you turned around to look at the source of the voice. He didn't look much older than you, but from what you could see, you could notice how well dressed he was , almost like the Shelby's themselves.

"I, uh, it's nothing. I was just lost."

The young man skewered his head to one side, as if scrutinizing you from the corner of his eye, however, before he could speak again, a voice cut him off, a voice you knew all together, "Michael, where's Polly? I thought it was the whole family tonight. She-"

Tommy stopped talking, the minute he laid his eyes on you. Even in the darkness of the night, he knew it was you. It had been ages they had all seen you. It was as though you had just vanished, and your mother never told them your whereabouts, no matter how much they tried to find out.

"You-"

"Hello, Thomas."

You whispered, toying with your fingers.

"How? We all fucking tried looking for you everywhere."

"I left town." You tried to sound cold, but who were you kidding, no matter how much you tried, this family was yours, although you didn't share their blood. Tommy was like a brother you had never had.

"Does John-"

Tommy didn't complete his sentence, he just turned to follow your gaze as the two of you started looking at him, watching you from the inside, his jaw almost dropped as if he had seen a ghost; his eyes on you.

Michael finally understood who you were. You were the one, the one that had caused the sheen in John's eyes to die down, the woman who had his heart.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

You were okay.

It had been difficult, and at first, you didn't want to do it. Being back into the Shelby's life was difficult, and Tommy's offer of you retaking your position as his secretary was something that made you feel worried, that being around John will break your control over the situation.

But you wouldn't lie, there was someone who made you pull through, and stuck with you when you thought you wouldn't be able to do it.

Michael Gray.

You didn't remember the countless times you had used him as your pillow, crying on his shoulders while he let you. He didn't judge you, and he didn't lie to you, telling you that things will be fine. That is all you wanted.

You sat in the Shelby office, on a Saturday, and you weren't expecting the Shelby's to come in today, except Michael, who was already here standing by the telephone, speaking to someone.

You tapped your lit cigarette lightly, letting the white snowy ashes fall into the ashtray, as you brought it back up to your plump lips. Your eyes scanned through the files, your pen in your other free hand as you scribbled some numbers relentlessly into the notepad, until Michael slammed the receiver down.

"What's wrong, Michael?" You gave him a look.

"Nothing , Tommy's fucking shipment is stuck. Some workers strike."

"Well, if the man himself is least bothered, why on earth are you boiling your blood out for him? Let it go, Thomas is going to find a way to sort it out, yeah? Anyway, I need your help, this is some really messed up calculation."

Michael shook his head, pretending to be disappointed in you, but secretly, he loved it. He loved it when you called him over to help you out with the calculations, for this meant that he could tower over your desk, leaning down on you, secretly inhaling the soft, dewy fragrance from your silky locks, admiring you. So, he left whatever it was that he was doing and fixed himself next to your desk, almost leaning over you from your back, so he could look at the paperwork.

Just then, the doors flung open, and a sudden chatter filled the room, when Arthur, Tommy and John entered, bickering among themselves on a topic, without having paid heed to you.

"Right, so did you see his fucking face? He could have bloody shit his pants at that," Arthur chuckled.

Your face lost its pallor, and you averted your gaze from John, when he suddenly stopped listening to his brother, and his eyes fell on Michael, and you. He could not hide the sudden change in his expression, the jealousy and the hurt in his eyes. His jaw squared, and his eyes narrowed in reflex and he couldn't bite back on his words, "Michael, I thought we asked you to sort out the bloody shipment, and not fucking flirt around with the employees around here."

My eyes widened at his words, and reflexively, I stood up, fixing myself next to Michael in his support.

"Well, what can I fucking do if the workers are on a bloody strike?" Michael protested, stepping in front of your desk, facing the three men.

"Well, for one, you can do what you're fucking here to do, and not be on other people's desks," John snapped, ignoring the way your eyes widened at him in disapproval, and Michael grit his teeth, clenching his fists as he walked off, towards the door.

"Michael, wait." You called out, but he didn't stop, and the door slammed shut when he walked out of the betting shop.

"John, thats enough, what are you fucking doing, eh?" Tommy asked, stepping in front of John, blocking your view of him.

"Just getting some bloody work done around here for once," John grumbled back, trying to walk past Arthur and Tommy so he could barge towards you. However, before he could make his way to you, you stepped up, grabbing your coat, and your purse.

"Michael didn't deserve that," you spat at him once, before turning away, as you walked out.

You didn't wait to turn back and see that John had pulled out of Arthur's grip, and he was now making his way towards you. You stepped out of the Shelby office, your heels clicking against the paved roads, as you started walking away, when you felt a hand grip your arm and pull you back, pressing you against the brick wall.

"John, let me go." You protested, trying to push his chest so he could move away.

"What the fuck was that?" He barked, still not letting you go, his hands on either side of you, having trapped you there, while you kept trying to push him, so you could get out of being so close to him again, "Michael fancies you. He fucking fancies you and still you like to keep him around yourself?"

You almost scoffed at his hypocrisy.

"So what if he fancies me? So what John?" You screamed, taking a deep breath, wiping the tears that had managed to leak from your eyes, leaving stains down your cheeks. He parted his lips, trying to find the right words, but before he could, you started yelling again, "it was okay for you to bloody get married when Tommy asked you to, but I cannot let another man fancy me. Why John? You're a fucking married man now, and I can't move on and be with someone who fancies me."

He slowly removed his hands from either of your sides, and stepped away so he could give you the space, and you instantly stepped away, shaking your head at him and then running your hands through your hair, frustrated with this all.

You kicked the sidewalk with your heel, not even paying attention to how your heel broke from the hit.

"You know I didn't want this to happen Y/N, not any more than you didn't. But I could not say a bloody no to Tommy."

"Don't you dare put this on anyone but you. You fucking chose to say yes, and you weren't forced. I never forgave Tommy, but I will never forgive you too John, now if you allow I have to go look for Michael."

You bent, sliding your feet out from the heels and took your heels in your hand. You started turning, when then it all happened in slow motion, before John could do anything to stop you.

If John knew that the bullet from the Italians gun, that was meant for him, will hit you on the side of your neck, he would have shielded you with his own life.

It was a clean hit, the bullet striking his heart, poetically, and your neck.

Your eyes widened, your hand flying to your neck, as hot blood spurted out and you started coughing, your body feeling loose, like that of jelly.

He watched you gasp, clutching the side of your neck, his eyes widened in shock, his mind blank, and his heart beating faster than ever. Tommy and Arthur rushed out now too, and before John could react, Arthur was kneeling down next to you, checking your pulse, his palm pressed to your neck, as you slowly bled to death.

"Tommy, we need to get her to fucking doctor, she is fucking bleeding to death!!"

John just kept looking.

If only that bullet had taken him.

John Shelby lost his heart in a whiff of a second, watching it shatter into two, the day he watched the woman he loved take her last breath. He broke down next to your now cold palm that lay by the sidewalk, your eyes wide open, keeping you close to his heart.

You were dead, even before Arthur could lift you up and carry you into Tommy's car, you were already gone and your body went cold, your hand falling lifelessly down your side.

Now just a month later, history repeated itself, but only this time, John didn't feel like he had anything to lose, and instead, he only had something to gain. He was probably going to bleed to death, but there was one thing that comforted him, as he took his last, broken breaths, that maybe you were waiting for him on the other side, and he just had to throw out his hand, and you'll be there to catch him.

And this is what he thought, in those final moments, as he lay, covered in a pool of his own blood, shot down by the Italians himself, mere months after your death. His breathing slow, his chest heaving up and down, blood erupting from his wounds, yet he was thinking of your face, the way your eyes were trained to him as you died.

John was awake; atleast for mere seconds, just as he inched closer to death, when Esme hunched over him, trying to revive him and he opened his mouth, gasping for air, like a fish thrown out of water, trying to breath; but he did manage to say a few words, only, they were so muffled, Esme could never make out what he said.

No one could hear what John Shelby spoke to her, and she kept clinging on to his last words, imagining that he was telling her that he loved her, but what he said was gone the minute he was gone.

But if anyone would have heard it, he would have known, what he meant, when he took his last breaths, and the only words that came out of his lips were, "I'm coming home, baby."

He was finally going home. And they were going to be together.

Permanent John Shelby Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@baumarvel

@nyotamalfoy

@peakyfooky

Want to be added to my Taglist? Please fill up the form on this link. ❤️

[praphit]

Shang-Chi! and the Rings of Daddy Murder Death!

When the trailer for this movie first came out, I was hyped! From the cast, to the bad ass bus scene, to Wong vs The Abomination,

 I was sold! 

Of course you had the people who came out saying "This is Marvel trying to be woke again. Hate crimes against Asian people on the rise, and here comes Marvel with Shang-Chi" We know this to be crazy, because Marvel already had this in the works, but certain people still reacted that way. But, even if that notion were true, would that be so bad?

It wouldn't absolve the ignorance, hatred, violence, and toxicity. But, if someone in Hollywood said "We've screwed over Asian people in films for like... ever. What if this time we choose a popular Asian character to base a movie on, and we DON'T do that?"

Now, (being that this movie supposedly leans on Chinese culture, with Shang-Chi being Chinese) China might argue that they still did them wrong (valid racist historical ptsd, cultural splicing, the whole martial arts thing, plus the main character is actually Canadian). It's not my place to weigh-in. But, I will say that making Shang-Chi Canadian, NOT a martial artist, but instead a hockey player, who loves Drake, and co-starring another Canadian, like Micheal Cera or someone 

probably wouldn't have worked as well for the MCU. Then, maybe Canada would have a problem with Marvel. I don’t envy movie-makers in this context. 

When I was a kid I was big into Black Belt Theater, Bruce Lee movies, 

Bruce Leroy, 

and within my love for martial arts and fighting entertainment was 

Shang-Frickin-Chi. 

I liked it, though I remember it being a lil racist. It's weird going back in time to see your fav childhood shows and books that wouldn't fly today:

I mean we've certainly been a lot more sensitive these days:

Regardless, Shang-Chi is here! (played by Canada's main man Simu Liu) He goes by the name of Shaun! 

Don't let that name fool you. Shaun will whup that ass! He says "Bleep all those super powers, and serums, a suits, and magic, and the rubber bones of Widow! That's some ol bullshit! All I need is my Wu-Tang style!" A style fueled by his daddy issues. And he's got some serious daddy issues. To be fair, his dad is the villain of the story. If your father was the active villain of your story, you'd also have issues.

Awkwafina is his sidekick

(much better than Michael Cera would be), she plays as Katy. That's fun. Every Katy I've ever known has been fun... and a heavy drinker:) This Katy is here to drive fast and crack jokes.

Ladies and Gentlemen, your new Marvel duo!

It's not just daddy issues for Shang-Chi, but mommy issues (she dead), avoidance issues, his sister kicks him in the balls. He didn't even seem shocked. I mean, his balls were shocked, for sure, but it seemed like she just did that all of the time. I'm imagining Christmas when they were kids. "Here's your gift, bro. KNEE TO THE NUTS Merry Christmas" What kind of relationship is that? And why?! - well, he did abandon her for like 10 years, but... you know, that's plenty of time for her to get over it, right?? So, we'll say sister issues, his daddy training him to be an assassin issues, and his friends have issues with him! - AND KATY! They don't respect Marvel's new duo. They think Shaun and Katy should be doing more with their lives.

They are both valets during the day, and at night they rock drunken karaoke. That seems like the perfect life to me.

But, Daddy and his power rings couldn't allow them to keep living the dream. I haven't mentioned the ten rings yet. 

They give him super-duper-magical martial arts powers, and make him eternal. AND made him an asshole.

To be fair, he was probably already an asshole before the powers. He's been killing a lot of people. You figure he's been around for 1000+ years. His wife is dead, and he has no hobbies. It's not like he kills a few people and then goes home to read a book, or play video games, or make TikTok videos. It's sunrise to sunset killing all day, every day for generations. Then, he forms an evil terrorist group called "Ten Rings" to amplify his killing.

"Murder Death Rings" are what they should be called.

"Daddy Death Punchy Time"

""Dead Doomy Rangs of Killer Dad"

"The Legendary Killer Rings of Deadly Death Death Murder Pops"

"The... " sorry, I've been drankin a lil bit while I write... I lost my place.

I like "Daddy Death" Where was I?

Right! He can't have Shaun being happy! We've gotta get this plot going, so he sends the only white dude he can find in this movie to start some trouble for them. I guess, there might have been a couple of more white people in the film, but they all got the snot beat out of them in that bus scene. This white dude's name is "Razor Fist", yep... "Razor Fist!". 

At least they didn't stick to the original design. 

Ridiculous. How does he use the bathroom?

He's played by Florian Munteanu, who is a former heavy weight boxer. Yeah! Was also in "Creed" his nickname is "The Big Nasty". Isn't that a drink? A bartender once offered me to sample a drink called "The Big Nasty". I chose to go with a drink that doesn't have "nasty" in its title. ... I think he was offering me a drink.

???

"Daddy Murder Death" and "Sharp Fisty Man" spark this thang. And Shaun becomes Shang-Chi, beater of ass!

The visuals in this movie are the best Marvel has done to date. The action is so good. I just got finished raving about the action in "Black Widow"; this surpasses that. I dug the cast. I know some people don't like Awkwafina, but... get over it. She was great in this; everybody was!

I loved the soundtrack! I'm not normally the "I loved the soundtrack guy" , but it was perfect. It begs to be mentioned.

No issues with the story. And the emotions that they're stirring in you. Whew!

One moment I'm enjoying the beater of ass, then Katy is making me laugh, then the slew of issues got me in my feelings, then the visuals wow me, then more swelling issues, back to ass beating - all the way through.

And the ending! True, Marvel has a formula (and this sticks to it), but if it ain't broken, why bleep with it?? The ending was Game of Thrones-ish, but with light so a brotha can see, and all the colors of the rainbow - like a Skittles commercial with martial arts.  Fun! - so not like GOT at all, I guess. The only fun they had was when there was torture or prostitution going on.

I don't have anything bad to say about the movie. They could have shaved 5-10 mins off, but I won't take off for that; there's just too much to love about this!

Grade: A+

Fun for the whole family! I can see the fam working through some issues after the watch.

Daughter: "You know, Dad. That asshole dad of Shang-Chi kinda reminds me of you."

Mom: "Daughter! You do NOT talk to your father that way!"

Daughter: “Just sayin...”

Dad: "That's interesting, cuz his ungrateful, bitch of a daughter reminds me of YOU!"

Mother and Daughter: *gasp

Son: *laughs

Dad: "All I want you to do is take your school work seriously and maybe date a guy who doesn't smell like weed!"

Daughter: "I'll have you know that's his natural smell! And maybe I'd focus more on school, if I didn't have to focus on YOU being such a BLEEPING ASSHOLE, DAD!"

See, that's healthy dialogue, right there. Maybe the family that watches this movie buys mommy a bunch of guns for protection, so she doesn't end up dead like the mommy in this movie. Like a ridiculous amount of guns!

And I could see brother and sister kicking each other in the crotch to resolve their differences. BUT, if they're close-by, fighting each other, then there's no time to abandon one another.

Marvel does it again!

Whichever of the Marvel films is your favorite, this one will probably be up there as well.

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Gift

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Tony says no pets in the Tower, but since when has Loki ever listened to him? Warnings: like one curse word A/N: Any Tom Hiddleston stans out there should get the Easter egg in this one :)

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

“Oh, come on, Tony! Please,” you whined for the fifth time that week. “Not even just a little one?”

“Absolutely not. It’d make a mess of the place. Not to mention that this isn’t exactly the safest place for a pet.”

“So it gets into a lab accident and we have a super dog. Not the worst thing ever,” you said, half joking, though Tony actually seemed kind of intrigued now. You changed your tactic before he got any ideas. “Besides, it won’t make a mess. I’ll train it. And not all dogs shed.”

“I guess, but someone might be allergic,” Tony countered, thinking he delivered a winning argument.

“We can get a hypoallergenic dog,” you shot back, though you’d already checked with almost everyone and no one said they were.

Tony grumbled, running out of excuses to give as to why you couldn’t get the pet you’ve been pleading for the past few months. Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to you during your time in the Tower, and you’d been pretty sure you could use that to your advantage. Sadly, though, nothing had been working. In fact, that relationship had been more of a detriment to you than anything else as you didn’t want to make him upset with you. Otherwise, you might just go out and buy the pet of your choosing. Maybe even more than one. Although, to be fair, it was Tony’s building, and he was allowing you to live here rent free, so you should probably just drop it. But you really wanted a pet, and you knew you weren’t the only one.

“Sorry, but still no.”

“Fine,” you relented with an overdramatic sigh. “For now, anyway.”

“Thank you,” he said, going back to whatever he was tinkering with before you came in.

You pouted in the lab for a bit, hoping he might change his mind, but to no avail. Eventually you slinked out and went into one of the common rooms, plopping on the couch between Peter and Bucky.

“So, how’d it go?” Peter asked after popping a handful of Skittles into his mouth.

“No luck," you responded sourly, stealing some of the colorful candy from him. “None of my strategies are working.”

“What if we tried for something smaller?” Bucky offered. “Like a gerbil.”

“I guess,” you grumbled as you flopped back in exasperation. “But we’ve had our eye on that Cocker Spaniel for a while. A gerbil just wouldn’t be the same.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You all sat in silence for a bit and watched as Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck argued about what hunting season it is, mulling over the situation. Admitting defeat seemed to be the most likely option at the moment, but you hated to just give up when you were sure there was a way to get what you wanted and not have Tony be upset with you.

“I’ve got it!” Peter suddenly shouted, bubbling with excitement. “We go and adopt it and then tell Mr. Stark that it just followed us home!”

“Except he wouldn’t let us keep it even then,” you stated, having already thought of that yourself.

“So we hide it. Simple,” Bucky chimed in. “By the time he notices, Peter will be so emotionally bonded to it, Tony wouldn’t dare take it away.”

“Great idea, Mr. Bucky,” Peter said, high-fiving him.

“Yeah, if only there weren’t cameras everywhere. Not to mention a home system that tells him everything,” you added, growing more upset at the lack of options by the minute.

You pushed up from the couch as the episode’s end was heralded by Porky Pig’s “Th-th-that’s all folks.” After waving bye to your friends, you headed to your room to brainstorm in silence. The figure lurking in the shadows didn’t even register in your mind, so you had no idea that a certain god heard your whole conversation. Not only that, he was about to fix all your problems.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Loki, where are we going?” Peter inquired as he and Bucky were led into the city by the trickster god.

“All will be revealed, spiderling. I assure you.”

Bucky just shrugged when Peter looked at him, and so they continued following Loki through the busy New York streets. After hearing about your plight, he had hatched a plan to get you what you wanted. All it took was a bit of research on that infernal computer device, and he was pretty sure he’d found the right shelter. It was a far walk from the Tower, and since neither he nor his travel companions could drive, he resorted to taking the subway, an experience he’d rather not have again. Finally, they arrived at the destination, and Peter was about to burst with excitement.

“Mr. Loki!” he gasped. “This is exactly where we were looking for dogs!”

“But I have a feeling you knew that already,” Bucky said.

“Indeed,” Loki replied. “I must confess that I overheard your conversation in the common room yesterday.”

“Oh I get it now. You’re doing this for-”

“No time for speculation, we are here to get me a pet,” Loki interrupted, “Go on. After you, spiderling.”

Peter, still blissfully unaware of Loki’s true intentions, led the way into the shelter. They were greeted with the sound of happy barking and the distinct smell of dog treats. Loki had to admit, he wasn’t the biggest fan of animals. He found some to be more agreeable than others, such as a good steed, but overall he thought them to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Thor had bought a cat for Jane once, and it tore up half of his capes before he presented it to her. Loki was glad his brother kept it away from him and his belongings. Not to mention he didn’t appreciate the sheer number of similarities people said he had with felines. Dogs, however, he was fine with, so long as they were trained properly.

“Hello, how may I help...” the girl behind the front desk trailed off, her eyes going wide with excitement upon realizing who the trio was. “Y-you’re... Oh my gosh. My friends are never going to believe this! But, uh, how may I help you?”

None of the heroes were particularly comfortable with the attention and star struck gaze of the girl, so it took them a minute to get over their sheepishness. Loki looked at both his companions before realizing he would have to do the talking. He sighed but knew the look on your face would be worth it. You’d look at him the same way you had so many times before, whenever he did little things for you, whether it be rubbing your shoulders after a stressful day or brewing you a cup of tea on a chilly morning. The two of you weren’t dating, exactly, but you weren’t exactly not dating, either. Loki found himself incapable of asking you to make it official, lest it ruin what you currently had. He didn’t know what he’d do if you no longer casually held his hand or rested your head on his lap while reading in the evenings. Even though he was fairly certain you felt the same way, that last bit of doubt wouldn’t leave him alone. Besides, despite usually being quite a great thinker, he couldn’t come up with a good way to confess. He supposed that kissing you would do the trick, but he wasn’t brave enough for that, so getting you a dog would have to suffice for now.

“My friends here were looking at some of your dogs recently, and there is one that they are quite smitten with. We are here to adopt it.”

“That’s right! A Cocker Spaniel named Bobby,” Peter offered. “He hasn’t already been adopted, has he?”

“Nope!” the girl responded in a perky voice. “He’s all yours as soon as you fill out the proper paperwork.”

“Mr. Loki, are you sure about this. Mr. Stark told me I couldn’t get a dog.”

“Exactly. He told you, not me,” Loki replied, picking up a pen.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t really think he meant it just for me. I think it was more of a general kind of thing.” Loki and Bucky looked at him in exasperation for a second, wondering how he could still be so innocent, before he caught on. “Oh, ok. I get it now. Carry on.”

The three boys huddled around the page as Loki filled it out, providing Tony’s credit card as payment when the time came. It seemed appropriate, Loki thought, that Stark should have to pay for making you upset, and taking that in the most literal sense was the only somewhat acceptable way, it seemed. No longer could The God of Mischief go around stabbing those who hurt the ones he cared about. In a way, he missed the good old days, as he referred to them, but his new life led him to you, which made the rest of it fine with him, he decided, as he finished his signature with a flourish.

“There,” he declared, admiring the loop of his fancy, cursive L. “Finished.”

The girl disappeared into the back, only to return with Bobby a moment later. After giving the paperwork a quick once over, she handed the leash over to Bucky, who couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face. Peter immediately bent down to scratch the dark brown dog behind his ears.

“Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy!” he cooed.

“Spiderling, he hasn’t even done anything yet,” Loki said, somewhat perplexed, as Bobby rolled over onto his back, stopping at the god’s feet. “Though, I do suppose he is a rather good boy,” he added, an inexplicable smile tugging at his lips.

One stop at the pet store and a taxi ride later, both unknowingly paid for by Tony, they arrived back at the Tower with the newest member of their family. It wasn’t even ten minutes later that Tony strolled into the room where they were playing with Bobby. He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the dog, happily playing tug of war with Bucky.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the Cocker Spaniel.

“A dog,” Loki deadpanned.

“Yeah, no shit. I mean what is it doing here?”

“I adopted it. Really Stark, for a supposed genius you ask a lot of obvious questions.”

“Don’t get snippy with me, Rock of Ages,” Tony quipped back, gritting his teeth a little. “This is my Tower and I say no pets, except for maybe a goldfish.”

“Yes, this is your Tower, but it is our home, is it not? As thus, we should be allowed the simple pleasures of life, such as having a pet. After all, studies show that having a dog can reduce stress, something I’d say is rather important for people in our position.”

Tony glared for a minute, not really having a good response to that. Then he called your name, certain you were behind this.

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “They had nothing to do with this. Don’t blame them.”

“That’s right,” Bucky also defended you. “It was all us.”

It was already too late, though, and you appeared in the doorway. Loki had been planning on presenting your gift to you in some cute or clever way, but all he had time to do was a magic up a bow on the pup’s head, a green one, of course. Bobby started happily yapping at your arrival and trotted over to you, looking for a scratch behind the ear.

“Oh. My. Gosh. He’s adorable!” you exclaimed as he rolled over for belly rubs. “You finally got a dog for me, Tony? Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Sorry, but I can’t take credit for this,” he said, turning down the hug you were offering him by putting a hand up. Then he pointed at the mischievous trio whose doing it was.

“Well actually, it was mainly Loki,” Bucky said, nudging the god in the ribs.

“But Mr. Bucky, we all- Oh wait. Awwww,” Peter gushed as he realized what Loki was feeling.

“Oh. In that case, thank you Loki!” you shouted, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

Without a second’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, too, returning the embrace. “You are quite welcome, my darling.”

You nuzzled into the spot where his shoulder met his neck. In turn, he put his head on your own and breathed in your scent, forgetting the others in the room for a minute. It seemed you had, too, because you looked equally startled when Tony cleared his throat.

“Ok, fine. He can stay,” Tony conceded, “but only if he doesn’t wreck the place. And keep him out of the lab.”

You all chorused your thanks and, despite his harsh tone, could tell that Tony had already taken to Bobby, who was now the center of attention again. After playing with him for a bit, Bucky made some excuse about having to leave and took Peter with him, both of them wanting to give you some alone time with Loki.

“This really is very sweet, Loki,” you told him after a few minutes.

“Think nothing of it. It is my gift to you.”

“I feel bad, though. I don’t have anything for you,” you said, biting your lip. “Well, actually, I do have one thing that I can give you.”

“Oh? What would that be, my darling?”

The end of his sentence was nearly cut off by your lips crashing into his. The kiss was a little sloppy, but filled with so much love and desire that neither one of you cared. After gathering his wits, Loki kissed you back, cupping your cheeks as you grabbed his shoulders, still a little unsteady from surging forward.

“That,” you breathlessly whispered, pulling away as Bobby began barking again.

Later that night, Tony found you and Loki passed out on the couch, Bobby sprawled out across both your laps.

“Huh,” he mumbled, draping a blanket over your shoulders. “I guess it’s a good thing they got that dog, after all.”

[elisela]

in a language you can understand buck x eddie, g, 2k, for anon who asked for Eddie buying little gifts for Buck and hiding them in his work bag

--

He blames it on hour twenty-three of a twenty-four hour shift when what comes out of his mouth after Chim tosses a bag of Skittles at his face is “I bet I could fit all these in my mouth at once.”

Hen shakes her head, Chim snorts, but Buck narrows his eyes and leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself as close to Eddie as he can get without climbing over the thing. “Coward,” he says, his mouth quirking into a grin, “I bet I could fit two.”

“Not at the station,” Bobby says, sounding bored. “There’s too much paperwork involved if one of you becomes injured on the job, even if it’s your own fault.”

“No, definitely at the station,” Hen says. “There’s more work involved if we have to break in a new probie because one of you idiots chokes to death.”

The conversation drifts, and Eddie forgets about it until he’s at the grocery store later, ignoring the way his son sticks out his lower lip as he begs for a candy bar. When Chris picks up a bag of Skittles, Eddie sighs and says yes, then throws two more bags on the conveyor belt when Chris isn’t looking.

He hides them in Buck’s work bag the next day.

---

“Skip-It,” Hen says, looking wistful. “My neighbor had one when I was a kid and I swear, I used to stare at her for hours when she’d play in the courtyard. I wanted one so badly.”

“Couldn’t you just … skip?” Buck asks, looking confused. “You needed a toy for that?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “It went around your ankle,” she says. “Here, I’ll google it for you.”

“What about you, Cap?” Chim asks, as Buck leans his head in towards Hen to peer at her phone. “Which childhood toy did you miss out on?”

Bobby tilts his head for a moment. “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots,” he says, refocusing on the pan in front of him. “My Mom thought they were too violent. She’d have a lot to say about what kids are playing with now.”

“Oh, don’t start us on the ‘kids these days’ speech,” Buck groans. “Quick, Eddie, distract him.”

“Uhh,” Eddie says, thinking—he’s sure there are there plenty of toys he’d begged for but never received, but clearly his parents had been right when they said he’d forget about them because he can’t recall a single one, except—“moon shoes,” he says, and at Buck and Hen’s blank look, he appeals to Chim. “You know, they were about four inches tall, like mini-trampolines? My parents said I’d break my ankle.”

“They were probably right,” Buck says. “You know how many calls we get because of trampoline accidents.”

“Alright, Bambi,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Most of us have control over our own limbs. What’s yours, then?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s kinda stupid, but there weren’t any kids in our neighborhood and Maddie wasn’t really into stuff like this, but you remember that game where you had like—a velco glove? And you’d catch a tennis ball?”

“Magic Mitt,” Chim says, snapping his fingers. “I wanted one of those, too. I should buy one for the baby.”

“I’d pay to see a three month old who could catch,” Hen says at the same time as Buck snorts and says, “I bet Maddie will love you throwing a tennis ball at Joy’s head.”

Three weeks later, Eddie’s gently pushing Chris out of the dollar section at Target when he spots a round velcro disc with a tennis ball attached in a bin full of summer games. He grabs two; one gets tossed on the back porch with the rest of Christopher’s outdoor toys, and the other goes in his work bag until it can be transferred to Buck’s locker.

----

The thing is, Eddie’s been in love with Buck for … well. He’d felt something for him right away, the type of attraction that goes beyond surface level, the pull towards another person’s soul, all of Buck’s goodness a lit beacon that illuminated Eddie’s way back to being whole. It was just never the right time, not with all his insecurities, Buck’s insecurities—every time Eddie thought maybe, the universe said not yet. His common sense gave way to guilt when Shannon reappeared, all of Buck’s near-death experiences, the way he so easily lost control of himself when what anchored him was suddenly gone.

It’s not that he thinks they don’t have what it takes to go the distance, but after Shannon—he’s more cautious now. He knows relationships take work and he’s willing to put that in, but he also knows how easily things break, and he’s not about to lose the one shot he has with Buck, so he’s just … waiting for the right time.

It’s probably been the right time for awhile now, but somehow, despite Hen and Chim’s ongoing conversation about who will ask out who first that regularly takes place in front of him (Buck, they unanimously decided), he hasn’t been able to go through with it.

----

After that, it’s little rubber toys that grow in water (shaped like a fireman and a fire truck), a candle that smells like lemon (because Buck had peeled one and eaten it like an orange the week before), a pack of two half-gallon, brown glass jars with “coffee” written on the side after a week that Buck worked three 36 hour shifts, a mini-waffle maker, a jar of Nutella (which Eddie had then been forced to watch Buck lick—so very slowly—off a spoon, an image which had not left his mind for several very long, lonely weeks), a packet of stickers that was surely meant for teachers but Buck immediately started giving out to everyone at the station (Eddie had laughed himself silly at the look on Chim’s face when Buck slapped one of a unicorn that said “great job!” on his uniform shirt and said “great job dating my sister!”), notebooks and silly pens—for months, every time he saw something small and cheap that made him think of Buck, he’d buy it and find a way to hide it in Buck’s bag or locker.

Buck never says anything, but Eddie watches the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he finds something, the way his smile softens into something more private and tender, sees how Buck makes sure he shows whatever it is off in front of Eddie—chugging cold brew straight out of the coffee bottle before he makes a face at the bitter taste, spends hours on the couch playing hangman with Hen in the notebooks, handing her the blue pen with the googly-eyed flamingo on top and keeping the one shaped like a shark for himself, trying to keep a straight face while his shoulders shake with laughter as Bobby reprimands both of them for shooting their coworkers with squirt guns while they run around the fire station. He doesn’t need Buck to say anything—he likes that he doesn’t, that it’s just something between the two of them that Buck doesn’t make into a big deal.

It goes on for so long that it’s almost second nature to pick something up for Buck whenever he goes shopping, and gradually, the gifts get a little more—intentional. A tie-dye hoodie after he sees a picture of an eight year old Buck wearing one (and a matching one for Chris), a “world’s best uncle” mug after Buck worries that Albert sees Joy more than he does and she might start to prefer him, a Greek cookbook after the fifth time they go out to the new restaurant in his neighborhood (Eddie might get more out of that than Buck does considering the sheer amount of baklava that starts appearing at the station—Eddie’s favorite treat).

As it turns out, he thinks about Buck a lot.

-----

“Sasha says you have to get your best friend an extra special Halloween treat,” Chris says, looking over the row of candy carefully.

“Sound like Sasha wants better candy,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag of caramel apple suckers for the station.

And maybe for himself.

Chris gives him a look. “Sasha’s not my best friend,” he says, turning back to the candy. “Buck is.”

“Well, can’t stand in the way of that,” he says. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

Chris finally hands him a bag of fancy marshmallows shaped like mummies, and peers into the cart. “What’d you get him this time?”

Eddie stares at him.

“You always get him something,” Chris says. “He’s your best friend, too, you need to get him something extra special. Hey, maybe you should tell him to get me something special, too.”

“Like he needs any more encouragement,” Eddie says.

On their way through the bakery aisle, he spots frosted cookies with phrases piped onto them; he grabs a witch that says “you’re bewitching” on it, and puts it in Buck’s locker just before the end of their shift.

Buck smiles all the way out to his Jeep.

-----

The week after, it’s a travel coffee mug that says “I think you’re spooktacular” that Buck carries with him on every call for three shifts before Chim puts it in the top rack of the dishwasher and it melts the side.

The pout on Buck’s lips pleases Eddie a little too much. So when he’s browsing the shelves at Target, waiting for Chris to find a costume he finds suitable that is also school appropriate and finds another Halloween themed cup—this time, with “Will you be my boo?” written on it, he only hesitates for a moment before putting it in the cart.

He doesn’t build up the courage to put it in Buck’s bag for two weeks—it’s not until Eddie notices the way that his face falls after six shifts with nothing new appearing in his locker that he shoves it in Buck’s bag after a shift, when Buck runs upstairs to give something to Chim.

They’re saying goodbye to Hen when Buck turns towards him suddenly. “I have something for Chris,” he says, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes when Buck sets his bag down and opens it up. He stares at the cup for a long time, then looks up at Eddie, glances at Hen, and smiles. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, “you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow? Like—a date?”

Hen’s bag hits the floor.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head as Buck’s mouth twitches. “No, you don’t get to take credit for this, I practically—that counts as me asking,” he says, waving towards the bag. “I asked you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, tossing a paper bag at him before standing up and clapping him on the shoulder. “Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll pick you up because I asked you,” he says, looking over at Hen. “I did. Show her the cup, Buck.”

“Dress warm, we’re going to a corn maze,” Buck says, skipping backwards with a wink. “And grab some blankets for your truck!”

-----

The week after their first date, there’s a small framed picture sitting in his locker—Buck with his arm around Eddie’s shoulders at the corn maze, their smiling faces lit by the bonfire, a bottle of beer dangling from Buck’s fingers. The lettering on the frame says “thankful for you” with a tiny leaf etched next to it.

Eddie sets it out on their reception table two years later.

[jacobseedz]

Care pt.1

Professor Snape x Student!Reader

1340 words lol

Been feeling kinda shitty for the past months, so I thought I’d write something w my fav Prof :))) Hope you enjoy it, and I beforehand apologise for any errors, english is not my first language. I’M SORRY IF SEV IS SOOO OUT OF CHARACTER DKDKDK NOT EDITED SO IM REALLY SORRY BOUT THE ERRORS DKDJ LOVE YALL

Part 2   Part 3

Another bad, unproductive day. Nothing seemed to be quite alright for a long time. Nobody noticed your mood lately, but it was nothing new, you were used to it. Your parents were too busy, working for the Ministry of Magic. Your friends had their own problems, and the teachers? Why would they even give a damn..

You laid in bed for about twenty minutes, staring pointlessly at the ceiling. There were no classes to attend, it was Christmas after all. Everyone from your dormitory had left Hogwarts to spend the holidays with their family. Only you stayed behind, your parents wouldn't be home, so there was no point in leaving.

Looking to your left, you saw Jinx, your pet bat hanging upside down, soundlessly asleep. At least she could sleep with no care in the world. 

Deciding to roam around, you got up, maybe you'd stop for food in the kitchens. The kitchen elves were particularly fond of you, and always gave you a small snack or some sweets. As long as you were nice to the elves, they were happy to give food out.

With a sigh, you throw off the soft blanket. Your grandma gave it to you before passing away. It was a birthday gift.

Upon the last memory of her, tears welled up in your eyes, which you quickly wiped away. She was your biggest supporter, teacher, and the only close family... until death came for her. And that was the breaking line.. You felt stupid, crying and walking down the hall, where everyone could see. Even though it was nearly nighttime, and half of the students who stayed were probably in their dormitories by now. However, the ghosts were always around, some taunting you, some playing tricks, and some being indifferent. 

The closer the kitchen got, the faster you started wiping the tears away. Finally, able to breathe properly, you put on a small smile, and entered the area. Two elves greeted with warm smiles. They never said a word to you, not that it was a problem. Without a word, just a wink one of them gave you a long bar of chocolate, skittles and a bottle of chocolate milk. 

"Thank you.." you whispered. You left with a wave, still smiling softly. Now you just had to find a place to sit down.

Two more turns, and you found yourself before the staircase leading to the dungeons. It was one of your favourite places. Whenever you felt sad or just exhausted with life you came there. Sometimes you managed to cross paths with your professor, however you prayed to Dumbledore that he was already down there. It would've been an embarrassment if he'd see you in such state.

Munching on your treats, tears began flowing down again. This year was just so terrible for you. Your grandma passed away, your grades got worse, you parents were always working and your friends just stopped caring.

Loud footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Before you could wipe your face, Professor Snape came into view, a nasty scowl on his face. Upon seeing you, his expression changed, it softened a little bit. 

Since he started teaching you, he saw great potential, not once did you make a mistake in brewing a potion or on a test. You were always the first one to give it back, or answer a tricky question on many lessons. He liked your passion about potions, always approaching it with delicacy and great precision. 

And you never spoke any ill words about him, quite on the contrary, you defended him handful of times. And it warmed his cold heart, making him put down the tough layers he built around himself, just for you. On free periods, you came to his classroom, offering your help in arranging the cupboard or preparing for his next lesson, like bringing important jars and such. 

Students noticed how you became the only favourite student, always going soft on you, never giving a snarky comment, only small praises, sometimes even a smirk, although barely noticable for others. 

"OH.. Professor-" you started, getting up. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment washing over you. 

"Come along, Y/N." he spoke quietly, going down the stairs, towards his office. 

Not wasting much time, you walked behind him. Vision still blurred from the tears, you took careful steps, afraid you'd fall and break your bones. 

You didn't know if you should curse Dumbledore or actually thank him. Maybe Snape's company would actually cheer you up, or worsen your mood. 

"Alohomora..." he muttered, letting you in first with a small nod. 

You went further in, sitting down on the couch near the fireplace,and opposite Snape's armchair. It was like a ritual, most of your holidays you spent there. Severus would always make tea for both of you, and sit down by the fireplace. Some days were in comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company, and on some days you'd make small talk, or discuss many topics. But it never felt forced.

"Green tea, as always I presume?" he questioned, raising a brow. 

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." 

He nodded, turning the kettle on. You smiled, it was nice to have someone show a little bit interest in your well-being.

"How are the first years?" you asked, staring into the fire, pushing your hands out trying to warm them.

"Horrid. Not one brat knew what I would get if I added root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.." he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"HA! Easy. Draught of Living Death." you shouted triumphantly.

"Precisely. Well done." he praised, smirking. You looked down, blushing madly. He knew it would lighten your mood a little bit.

"It couldn't be that bad though? I heard Jack got better in potions.."

Severus let out an annoyed sigh. "He just made the potion explode. Instead of cutting the Sopophorus bean while making Felix Felicis , he should've smashed it, brings out the juice more. Damn dunderhead .."

"Oof, well, next time I see him, I'll tutor him a little bit."

Severus handed you the tea, sitting on the armchair, taking a sip of his own one. You handed him the other half of the chocolate bar.

"Don't bother... How are your parents?"

You offered a weak smile. "Good, busy as always, but working for the Ministry is like that, so what can I say."

"How have you been lately, professor?" you questioned, looking into his eyes.

"I've told you many times before, call me Severus." he gave a small smile, making your heart melt instantly. "Good, although the holidays aren't my favourite, I prefer that muggle tradition called Halloween."

"Oh Merlin! Me too! Especially when the elves make pumpkin pasties and delicious cranberry punch." your laugh was like a beautiful melody to the dark-haired man.

"Ah, yes. Though the idea of scaring those isolent brats is just too tempting to pass." he smirked.

He frowned quickly. It threw you off a bit.

"I've noticed your grades getting worse. Minerva approached me before the christmas break. She worries about you, as do the other teachers. And I." he said softly. "You were always a top student. What changed?"

Tears welled up in your eyes for the milionth time. The teachers actually care? Professor McGonagall even came to Severus?

So lost in your thoughts you didn't realise Severus sat beside you, his worried gaze on you.

"I'm sorry.." you managed to whisper, before heavy sobs took over your body.

The cold man instantly took you into his warm embrance, caressing your soft hair, rocking you back and forth. Who would've thought that a man like Severus Snape would ever hug someone and try to make their every problem dissapear, because he cares so deeply. You really wreaked your way into his heart, that actually lied existed, but under many layers of thick walls.

"Shhh. It's alright. We're here, I'll help you as much as I can, and so will others. Don't worry." he promised. 

You pushed your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him as tightly as he was you.

"Thank you.."

[afro-hispwriter]

Don’t blame me, Love made me Crazy(pt.2)

The Batman 2022

Bruce Wayne/Batman x f!Black!Reader

Summary- getting back in contact with your ex isn't always a bad thing

Warnings- mentions of past break up, mutual pinning, oral(f receiving), p in v sex

Wc-3.6k

Taglist- @blue-aconite @cursedandromedablack @philiasoul @a-little-disguised @pop-rocks-and-skittles @xingqiusliegee @lana-isabelle @dopeqff @shawty-writes-a-little

pt.1

-

3RD POV

After their encounter, Bruce couldn't stop thinking about Y/n. He missed her so much it hurt. She is the one for him, he just wished he didn't push her away and lie. 

The funeral for the Mayor was that day. Bruce decided to attend to see if the Riddler would strike again. He was going over footage from the previous nights when he came across the moment he enjoyed so much. 

"Fuck, Bruce make me cum." She gasped and arched her back. She had bucked her hips against his face giving him a clear view. 

Bruce's dress pants got tighter by the second at hearing every noise she made, from either her mouth or body. The elevator dinged but Bruce paid no mind to it just kept looking at the screen.

"Oh dear, is that Miss Y/n?" He hears Alfred behind him and Bruce practically jumped out of his skin and rushed to shut it off. Alfred had looked at the screen for a split second, identified Y/n, then acknowledged what was happening and turned away. 

"She's been helping me with the disappearance of the women." He says and tries not to look Alfred in the face.

"Nice to know you are in contact again." Says Alfred and walks closer to Bruce. "I take it you're attending the funeral?" He points his finger at Bruces body, gesturing to the tux. 

"The Mayor was one of the Riddlers victims and Serial Killers like to see the reactions of everyone, they can't resist it." 

-

Bruce made it to the Funeral and looked around to all the Riddlers supporters. It was almost sickening. He pulled the car to a stop and stepped out. Cameras flashed im his direction along with his name being thrown around. Bruce handed the keys to the corvette to the valet a started to make his way up the stairs when something caught his eye. 

It was the bank manager.

Bruce looked around for any signs of Y/n. Peter, the bank manager stepped back and held a hand out for someone. A gloved hand grabbed it and Bruces eyes searched for any sign it was Y/n. His heart sped up and the desire to speak with her came up. He made his way over to them, pushing his way through small crowds. Just as he was going to grab the woman's hand she turned to face Peter and Bruce stopped.

Not Y/n.

-

In less than 6 hours, Bruce has gotten blown up, shot at, and jumped off a building and hit a bridge. He limped back to his car and drove back to the cave. 

Bruce rested for once, but he was angry and in need of release and he knew exactly where to release it. 

He got his suit on again, shrugged on large cargo pants and a huge Bomber jacket. He then shoved a new cape into his backpack and set off on his bike. 

Y/n's apartment was in his sights. He hid his bike in an ally way and climbed up the building next to her apartment building(not wanting to risk any of the residents identifying him). He saw Y/n through the window and noticed she looked stressed. 

Bruce pulled out his binoculars and looked through the window with clearer vision. She was talking on the phone, throwing her hands im the air before rubbing her forehead and dropping the phone. She walked over to her room and Bruce followed her. She started taking her clothes off and Bruce zoomed in, he watched her strip down to her underwear and she turned around to the window.

Bruce could see her breasts and felt his pants tighten. She pulled a black fabric out and slipped it on. It was tight and hugged her body well, Bruce just wanted to burst into her apartment and take her right there.

God he's so fucked up.

She grabbed a motorcycle helmet and Bruce furrowed his eyebrows.

She always hated motorcycles.

The apartment went dark and Bruce took the binoculars from his eyes. It was a few moments of silence when a garage opened and bike roared and pulled out. Bruce shot down the stairs again and went to his bike to take off as well. 

He tailed behind her slowly, keeping himself at a great distance but enough not to loose sight of her. She pulled her bike into an alley and stepped off. Bryce stopped his own and watched her climb up the fire escape the building, the building which looked very familiar. 

The mayors house.

Why would she be going to the mayor's house?

Bruce got his bat suit together a reached the roof of the building. There was a window in the ceiling giving him a clear view of what was happening. She went up to a painting in the wall and took it down, she then reached into her backpack and pulled out a listening device. He couldn't get a clear view but he was guessing its for a safe.

It was a few minutes of watching Y/n before she opened the safe. Bruce opened the window carefully and watched her pull out a diamond. Bruce tied his grappling hook securely on the roof and made his way down, landing softly behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asks in his deep voice startling her. 

"Vengeance!" She says and hides the diamond behind her back.

"Why are you here?" He asks and she bite's her lip.

"Just needed something." She says and and walks past him. Bruce grabbed her arm and stared her down.

"Whats so important that the mayor had?" 

"This doesn't concern you." She ripped her arm out of his grasp and continued walking away. Bruce scowled and and grabbed her arm again but was met with a leg to the gut.

"What the fuck!?" He gasped out, trying to keep the deep voice active. 

"Get out of my way." Bruce then wrapped his arms around her waist and she kicked and thrashed until her back hit a table, his cape flying around them.

"Since when do you know how to fight?" He asks and brings his face down close to hers. "If you want to call that fighting." He smirked and she opened her mouth in disbelief and hit his shoulder. Bruce then grabbed her hand and slammed it above her head keeping it there. She still had the diamond clutched in her other.

"Let me go please." She says and looks at him. When he didn't budge she slowly brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. "Please vengeance, I've been a good girl." She teased and dropped the diamond from her hand and brought it to his face. 

"Stop." He mumbled and let her hand go to then back up but her legs kept him there. She then brought her hands to the zipper of the suit and slowly pulled it down. 

"Don't tell me you don't want this." She says and rolled her hips against his crotch. Bruce was very grateful for the dark lighting, if not she would see his red cheeks. He didn't let her tease him much longer, he grabbed her legs and pulled them off his hips.

"Why do you need the diamond?" He asks and she sighs roughly and sits up. 

"Another girl was killed , a girl who I was talking to less than 5 hours ago, I needed this diamond to get some money... so I can leave." Bruces eyes furrowed deeply, even though it couldn't seen due to the cowl. Before he said anything, he heard footsteps outside the door and grabbed her arm once again and tugged her behind a wall. Before she could protest and slapped a hand on her mouth and wrapped an arm around her body keeping hers still. 

"Shh." He says in her ear lowly. Now she furrowed her eyebrows until the light of a flashback came into view. She pushed her body into Bruces and felt her heart race. Y/n looked to the side and saw a cop holding up a flashlight searching the room. Bruce slowly shuffled them quietly away until they were under the window he came through. He grabbed the grappling hook and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. "Hold on." Before she could say anything, her feet were no longer on the floor. 

They made to the roof and Bruce let her go. She kneeled down and opened her backpack and placed the diamond carefully inside. Bruce carefully shut the window and stood to his full height. He turned around to speak to Y/n but she was gone. He heard hurried steps down the fire steps. He rushed to the edge just to see her hopping on her bike and driving off.

"Fuck!" He slammed his fists on the edge of the edge of the balcony and was about to jump down when the flash of the bat symbol went into the sky. Bruce contemplated not going but with the Riddler at large he had to. 

-

Y/n made it back to her apartment and sighed. She sat on the couch and placed her head in her hands. 

Y/n has never stole before, that was the first time and her heart was racing. She sat in her thoughts before turning on the tv, it immediately went to the news and it almost made her heart stop at the news.

WAYNE TOWER EXPLOSION 

The video showed the middle of the tower with flames flying out. She immediately grabbed her phone and tried calling Bruce but it immediately went to voicemail. 

"Pick up Bruce." She says and called again but it didn't even ring. Y/n hands started to shake, he just came back in her life and she was letting him, now he may be gone again. She decided to get her suit off and take a shower before running over to the tower. There were still first responders at the bottom so when they saw her approach they stopped her. 

"Sorry ma'am no ones allowed in other than Mr, Wayne." They say and scoffs before thinking of something, something that can really bite her in the ass later.

"Im his wife, I deserve to know what happens." She says and straightened herself out. The police man looked at her in shock and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I thought you and Mr. Wayne broke up."

"Don't believe what the media says." She says and walks past him. 

"Well Mrs. Wayne, your husband isn't here, he's at the hospital with your butler."

Alfred?

-

Y/n made it to the hospital and asked for Alfred and the front desk lady told her the room with no second glance. She made to the room and expected Alfred to be asleep but he was looking right back at her.

"Miss Y/n! How are you my dear?" Alfred opens his arms shakily and Y/n steps forward to give him a hug. 

"I've missed you." She says and and sits down in the chair beside the bed. 

"You just missed Wayne." He says and Y/n shakes her head.

"Lets not talk about him." 

"Oh but we must, I've been in the hospital bed a day and im bored out if my mind, I need the drama." He says and she rolls her eyes playfully.

"There is no gossip Alfred." Alfred raised an eyebrow at her and laughed to himself. 

"Thats what you say, but Master Wayne seems to be quite infatuated with you once again, or should I say never stopped." Alfred then reaches over and grabs her hand in his. "He told me what happened that night he found you in the mayors house, why were you stealing a diamond?" Y/n cleared her throat.

"Another girl got killed, a girl I was talking to only a few hours before it happened, I was scared didn't know if I was next. I was planning on leaving, leaving Gotham but I needed to talk to Bruce but then I saw the tower was on fire." Alfred thought for a second before giving her a smile.

"Y/n, you should've just came to us we would've helped you, protected you." He says and Y/n shrugs, Alfred felt like he was talking to a shy child. "You and Bruce need a very long talk, he might be at the tower." 

"Might? Is he on his little mission?" She asks but Alfred shakes his head then immediately frowns. 

"I've lied to him for a very long time." 

-

Y/n stood in front of the main elevator of Wayne Tower. She punched in the code, the code Bruce never got the heart to change. She stepped into the elevator and felt her heart race. It came to a stop on the 6th floor and the doors opened. Y/n took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator. 

"Bruce?" She called out but received no response. Thats when she heard cans falling to the floor. She bit her lip before sighing and following the noise. 

What she didn't expect to see was spray paint cans all over the floor, along with boxes full with papers. She looked to the middle and saw a question mark... and Bruce.

Holy shit his back, his muscles. She could hear his deep breathing from where she was standing, the sounds sending straight down to her core.

"Bruce." She whispers and he slowly turned around. His eyes widened at the sigh and he slowly stood up, not taking his eyes off of her.

"Y/n." He breathed out and slowly made his way to her. He stared her down with his blue eye and she couldn't help reach her hand up and move the strand of hair from his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were ok." She says and Bruce felt his heart tighten. "I saw Alfred, he told me what happened and Bruce im so sorry." 

"Can we not talk about that right now?" He asks immediately and her face turns serious and nods.

"Ya, sorry." 

"Don't apologize im ok." Y/n let her eyes trail around his bare torso, she looked at all the scars that covered his chest. 

"I need to talk to you." She breaths out and Bruce straightens his back out. He just stood there, waiting for her to speak. "I told you I was stealing the diamonds because I needed money to leave Gotham." She watched Bruce's shoulder physically fall. "Because im scared ill be next right... Bruce I don't wanna leave, tell me to stay." Bruce stepped closer, almost to where her forehead was touching his chest, he slowly brought an arm to hold her while the other tipped her chin up.

"I can protect you just don't leave, don't leave Gotham... don't leave me." Y/n heart started beating quickly. "Fuck you make crazy, id do anything for you, no questions asked." Bruce slowly brought his head down to hers. Then turned his face so his lips brushed her temple. "I'd fucking kill for you." 

He kissed her cheek and she trailed a hand to the back of his neck.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you, haven't been able to stop." She says. "I want you." 

"Then you have me, you'll always have me baby." 

Baby

Y/n slammed her hips on his and almost caught Bruce off guard. He kissed her back and immediately bent down to pick her up. Her legs wrapped around his torso tightly. He held her up by her ass and squeezed making her moan, she pulled away and tipped her head back exposing her neck. Bruce's lips attached to her neck immediately and began sucking. 

Her hands weaved themselves in his hair and tugged tightly, pulling him away from her neck.

"Bruce please fuck me, baby I've missed your cock inside me." Bruce looked into her eyes and smirked.

"I got you baby." He whispered lowly and slowly turned them around. He then slowly got down on his knees slowly and carefully and pulled Y/n away from his body and laid her down on the floor. Right on top of the question mark. He grabbed her ankle and took  off her shoes, following unbuttoning her pants and pulling them off. 

Black lace panties were revealed making Bruce licked his lips. He scooted his legs back and then lowered himself down on his arms so his face was in front of her clothed cunt. He lowered his face down farther until his nose brushed her clit. He then pushed his nose against the fabric making her gasp.  

"You're so beautiful baby." He says and inhales. "Fuck and smell so good." He turned his head to kiss her thighs and kiss up to the hem of her panties.

"Bruce take them off." She breathed out and tugged his hair. 

"No, im going to make you cum in them." Bruces lips attached themselves to her clit through the fabric. He could already taste her sweetness coming through and it made his eyes role in the back of his head at the taste. He stuck his tongue out and slipped his tongue against the fold that slipped out.

"Oh god." She arched and laced her hands in his hair. Bruce wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked softly. He stuck his tongue out and pushed the fabric against her entrance. She pushed her hips against his face and her eyes rolled in the back of her head.

He brought his hands up and wrapped them around her thighs. He pulled her legs up and raised himself on his knees so her ass rested on his chest. He pushed his face in deeper making her gasp and slap her hand against the painted floor. 

"Bruce right there." Bruce shook head roughly and locked eyes with her. He slowly watched her body jerk and eyes roll in the back of her head. Her mouth slacked open and Bruce tasted her sweetness through the panties. Bruce continued his attack on her cunt as she bucked her hips trying to get away from his mouth. 

"Stop Bruce!" She cried and he pulled away out of breath and dropped her legs softly.

"Sorry." He mumbled then looked down at her face and smirked. She was breathless and had tears streaming down her face. Bruce climbed on top of her and kissed her deeply. She moaned at the taste from his lips. 

Bruce was caught up in the moment he didn't realize her legs wrapping around his waist and flipping them over. She pulled away from the kiss and leaned back in between his legs so she could slip off her panties. She dangled them in front of his face and he stared at them until she tossed them somewhere. 

"I want to fuck you Bruce." She cooed and shredded her shirt off. 

Bruce reached down and undid his pants to pull them down just far enough. His cock immediately sprung out.

"You always did like going comando." She whispered and grabbed him. She pushed her thumb over the red tip and his hips bucked.

"Fuck let me be inside of you." He groaned and reached to grab her hip and pull her up so her cunt was right over his stiff cock. She slid the head through her folds, collecting her wetness, before sinking down. They both ket out moans and Y/n cunt kept squeezing Bruces cock making him feel lightheaded. She bent down and kissed him, she then lifted her hips and sat back down. 

"Fuck you feel so good." She moaned and placed her hands on his chest. She started riding, grinding on his lap and he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. 

"Fuck darling." He threw his head back and grabbed her hips and slowly started lifting her up and down. All that could be heard was the skin slapping and moans echoing through the large room. Y/n leaned back and placed her hands on his knees behind her and continued her movements. His cock was hitting her spot triggering her legs to shake. 

Bruce looked at his middle and was entranced by seeing her move up and down on his cock. He brought his thumb to her clit and let out a shuddering breath. 

"Im gonna cum." She breathed out and Bruce watched as her eyes twisted in the back of her head. She was loosing her rhythm and was about to fall sideways when Bruce grabbed her hips roughing and raised his knees. He started pounding into her cunt from the bottom. She was gasping, trying to hold onto something but his harsh thrusts were launching her forward on to his chest.

"C-Cumming." He felt her squeeze against his cock and rolled her back up and pushed her hips down. Bruce fucked her through her orgasam and drove himself to his own. She felt hot spurts of his cum fill her walls. She laid on his chest tiredly and felt her eyes grow heavy. 

"You're so beautiful." She heard him whisper in her ear. "Go to sleep, we'll talk in the morning." And with that he felt her body completely relax.

-

a/n- part 3 is being written

[the-hopeless-haze]

I’m Doing My Best Not to Let It Get Between Me and You (Justified Sin Chapter 8)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Warnings:  depression mentions, brief suicidal ideation mentions, general violence mentions, descriptive domestic violence scene... on a more positive note smut

Taglist: @pop-rocks-and-skittles @yesshewrites1​ @deadflowerd​ @burninggracesandbridges​ @reggxe-a​ @ventila98​ @grayce427 @leastlikelytoachieve​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @yuki235171​ @cluelessnitwhit​

“Think about it,” Bruce said.

“I don’t want to think about it. You really think Dave had something to do with this?” Gordon asked. “Really? You’re sure this isn’t because of your personal vendetta?”

“You like him?”

“Well, no, I don’t like him much more than you do, but… I don’t think he’s the reason dead prostitutes are littering our streets, either.”

Another body was found, head first in the fresh December snow. Littering was a word for it, maybe that was even too literal. Almost every week. Like clockwork, now. No leads. In different locations, these days, bodies just dumped like they were trash instead of the human beings they had been.

It sickened him, even though he couldn’t go to scenes himself. Their bruised and battered faces reminded him too much of you, of what your future could look like.

“Maybe it isn’t him, but I think he knows something.”

“Yeah? You want to call him in?”

“No,” he scoffed. “We don’t have anything. I just think it’s suspicious how he blocked me from crime scenes the day before a body was found. And this explains the cooling-off period. When there were no killings, he was busy campaigning. This goes bigger than you want to admit.”

“Why don’t you call his wife? Maybe she knows something.”

“I don’t have her number.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Want to take a drive down there? Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’s working late tonight, and we can talk to her alone.”

“Fine,” he agreed, walking to the cruiser with Gordon. It was a silent drive to your home, and it dawned on him he’d never seen it. It was elaborate, showing off wealth in a slightly tacky way, complete with a white picket fence and an inground pool behind it in the yard. A family man’s home, but no family to live in it.

All he could make out from the street was the dimly lit kitchen, and he strained to see into it for a few seconds before he took Gordon’s binoculars and stepped out of the car.

“Hey. I think he’s home,” Gordon whispered.

“I know.”

“Then be careful.”

Bruce didn’t respond, stepping a little further into the snow-covered lawn. You’d decorated for Christmas already; multi-colored lights in the bay windows of the otherwise darkened foyer and tinsel on the ledge, snowmen and reindeer figurines laid out on fake snow. It made his heart ache, remembering vaguely how he used to help his mother decorate the manor for Christmas, lugging big boxes of ornaments with his father from the attic, hugging her legs after she put cookies in the oven and cried over a glass of wine. He didn’t understand the reasons why back then, but he remembered her being upset around this time, and it seemed to worsen when the season was over. Alfred wouldn’t talk about it much, but he gleaned that his mother suffered from depression of some kind and it got worse when the nights got longer and the cold set in.

He wondered how much of that was genetic, or if he was just predestined to a life of misery given his parents’ untimely death. You made the ache go down easier, and Batman gave him more purpose to keep fighting than he had years ago, but sometimes he still felt it throb at his chest, an unbearable pain that he would do anything to shut off. You mentioned jumping from the ledge, but Bruce could never quite wrap his head around wanting to go like that. He’d never quite made a plan, but he had wished he’d go to sleep and never wake up quite a few times his head hit the pillow.

He wondered how many nights his mother felt like that. He hated to wonder this, but sometimes he also wondered if she was happy someone else took her life for her. Though, he desperately hoped not. Even if she was struggling, she had a strong bond with his father from what he remembered and the stories Alfred would tell him. And she had himself, the child she always wanted. A family. A protective factor. Something to live for.

No one decorated the manor this year. Alfred had stopped asking after Bruce got into middle school and promptly bit his head off when he suggested it. It was something he regretted, even if he struggled to admit that. Still, every year Alfred would make sure there was at least a tree in the foyer, and he’d always get Bruce something. It wasn’t until Bruce was in his teens he returned the favor. Still. It seemed cheap, like he wasn’t doing enough.

Bruce had half a mind to ask you to decorate this year. Hot chocolate, you wearing his sweater, Christmas music playing softly in the background… domesticity. Peace. Tranquility. What the joys of the season are supposed to bring.

But instead, he was out in the cold, looking into your window, making out you and Dave talking… fighting. You were holding a dish in your hand, vague remnants of whatever you’d had for dinner scattered on the plate. It was impossible to decipher what you two were saying, but your brow was furrowed and your body language was clearly defensive. Dave had taken his suit jacket off, sitting down at the table with his back turned to the window.

And in one swift movement, he got up and hit you.

No blocking that Bruce had taught you saved you from that blow. Sudden. Quick. Learned. Having the same opponent made it easier to fight with accuracy.

But Dave wasn’t supposed to fight with you.

The plate clattered to the floor.

“Hey, easy, easy!” he heard Gordon’s voice, echoey but close, and felt his hand on his shoulder pulling him back. “You can’t go in there. You can’t.”

He hadn’t noticed he started running toward the door until he felt Gordon holding him back. Feet closer to the window, he could make out better what was happening without the aid of the binoculars.

You were crying, now, trying to hug him but he pushed you away, and yelled something in your face while he gripped your shoulders. He shoved you off him, your back hitting the counter hard as you stumbled, and he walked out of the room, loosening his tie.

“Jesus,” Gordon said. “We shouldn’t be watching this.”

“No. I need to make sure she’s safe,” Bruce replied hollowly, the rage seeping back into his bloodstream as Dave walked back into the room, cracking a belt in his hands.

A wave of nausea overcame him as he realized where the welts on your backside came from and why you were always hesitant about him touching you there. How archaic and barbaric to take your wife over the knee and abuse her with your belt, because… what? She didn’t cook your steak the way you liked it? She didn’t put out the wine you wanted with dinner? She forgot to pick up your dry cleaning? What could you have done that made this man think you deserved this? Any of this?

“Jesus Christ. I can’t watch this,” Gordon said. “Fuck. If only I came here under better circumstances. I can’t say I witnessed this without the D.A. wondering why I came here at all.”

“D.A. would never give you anything on him anyway,” Bruce muttered.

Dave yelled something at you again, and you yelled back. You slapped him in the face, and Bruce wasn’t entirely sure if he was glad you were still fighting or if he wished you wouldn’t so Dave wouldn’t get angrier. And then Dave hit your face again, dragged you down the hallway, his hand firm on the back of your neck as he forced you into step with him.

It was an eerie few moments as it became clear the two of you weren’t going to come back into Bruce’s line of sight.

“Jesus. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was that bad,” Gordon sighed. “Poor girl.”

“And we’ve done fucking nothing. It’s been almost a year that we’ve known,” Bruce growled.

“We can’t do anything. Unless we come back here, film it, leak it to the press?”

“I can ask her,” Bruce said, but the idea of filming you getting beat made him sicker than sitting here watching. “Or I can kill him.”

It wasn’t ideal to mention this to a cop, he realized that, but he needed to gauge where Gordon was on the issue. He needed at least one man in blue on his side should this plan need to come to fruition.

“What happened to your no-kill rule? You like a girl, you throw your ideals out the window?”

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Christ. I can’t believe you of all people are suggesting a murder to me.”

“You just saw—“

“Are you going to kill every man who hits their wife? Because he isn’t the only one.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Of course, he couldn’t. Maybe it was selfish, to only help you because he loved you, to only be willing to debase himself and risk an eternity in hell for one woman when there were so many other women and men suffering from the same damn thing.

Still. Other places had the same issues as Gotham, and he only pledged to fight for this city because it was his. Doing good required setting limits or you’d burn yourself out. Committing sins probably followed that same logic.

“It’s just an option that’s on the table,” Bruce said quietly. “Something to think about.”

“Are you asking me to cover for you?”

Bruce was silent again.

“Does she know you love her this much?”

He shook his head slightly and he wasn’t even entirely sure that was a lie. “She’s been seeing someone else. I’m not interfering.”

“Right.”

“I just want her to be safe.”

“I hear you, chief.”

“So?”

“What are you asking me, here?”

“Never mind,” he muttered. “She doesn’t want me to kill him. But if he… if he kills her… I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m just telling you, so you know.”

“The less I know about that, the better. But… if she’s already dead, killing him isn’t going to do anything.”

“She’d never forgive me.”

“You’re telling me you can’t have her anyway. Might as well make sure she’s safe.”

“Are you telling me to do this?”

“Only you know what you can justify. I can’t tell you what to do,” he said. “But I can tell you one thing. We should get out of here.”

“No. I have to make sure she’s safe.”

“Might want to find a more discreet spot to hide out in, then.”

Bruce found a spot in the shadows near the trees, only fully exhaling when he saw you walk to the car about an hour later in slippered feet, your dress ripped under the wool coat you haphazardly threw on. The snow was coming down harder now, so he flew above you, making sure you got to the diner in one piece, blinking ice out of his eyes as he followed you, damn near falling on the top of your car multiple times. It felt wrong to keep tabs on you like this without you knowing, but it was also comforting to do so, to know you were okay.

Going home, he showered and changed quickly, then drove back to the diner. His eyes were threatening to close on the drive down, he was fucking exhausted, but he wanted to sleep next to you more than anything in the world right now. Your breaths lulling him to sleep, his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to him, warm, safe, protected. No one would hurt you when he was holding you.

You’d given him a key to the diner for “emergencies”… but in case you were asleep he didn’t want to wake you, so he used it, slipped in through the dark dining area and back through the kitchen, entering your bedroom. It looked more lived-in these days now that you’d had it for a while, the posters of My Chemical Romance placed on the walls, a picture of you and himself on the nightstand, a houseplant in the corner.

You were sleeping, and he held his breath, watching you for a moment, straining his eyes to see if there were any visible injuries on your skin, but it was far too dark to make anything out in this room. Little blessing to be thankful for, that you were safe and with him now. Quietly, he took his shoes off and stepped softly to the other side of the bed, gingerly laying on the blankets, not bothering to get under the covers lest he wake you up.

Unfortunately, you were a light sleeper and you startled awake the second his head hit the pillow. “What? Who’s there?” you asked, turning to him, yawning as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shh. It’s me. It’s Bruce,” he said softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently.

“When the hell did you get here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” you asked.

“I couldn’t sleep. Drove around. Your car was here, so…”

“Lucky you, then.”

“Not really. Doesn’t this mean he hit you?”

You frowned. “I don’t want to rehash it.”

“Okay. Just go to sleep. It’s okay. I’m here now,” Bruce said, kissing you again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” you said, kissing the side of his mouth and curling up into his chest.

Instantly, he fell asleep, your body pressed warm and soft against him, comfort, coziness in the midst of your cold and uncaring situation. Dreams came in small snippets, some soothing images of you washing his hair in the shower that came back to him as he woke up, your alarm blaring. It was still dark out, as he could see from the small window, still snowy, and what he wouldn’t give to spend the day in bed with you, talking, kissing, making love, sleeping, watching movies.

“Do you have to open today?” he groaned, holding onto your waist as you tried to get up.

“Yeah. Let me turn the light on at least. I’ll come back for a little bit.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, squinting as you flipped the light switch and eagerly opening his arms to welcome you back, smiling as you snuggled back into his chest.

“If I leave you here, will you be quiet? You look like you really need the sleep,” you said.

“Am I ever loud?” he asked.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Not fair,” he said, blushing.

“Yeah. No touching yourself, then.”

“I don’t… I—“ he stuttered, still somewhat amazed you could get a reaction out of him like this.

“Shh, baby,” you laughed, kissing him. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“Terrible,” he said, smirking.

“Yeah. I know,” you grinned, kissing him deeply, earning whimpers from his mouth as you pulled his hair softly.

“I thought you were letting me sleep,” he chuckled.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” he said, kissing you, chaste this time. “But… are you alright from last night? Anything you want me to look at?”

“I’m okay,” you said, sighing. “Get some sleep. You need it, baby.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he yawned.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “You can’t even keep your eyes open.”

It never felt like long enough, the time he had with you, it always felt like it slipped away and he didn’t have the time to appreciate it while it was happening. You shouldn’t be a transient part of his life, he wanted you to be a permanent fixation.

But there you were, slipping away again as he slipped back asleep.

——-

“You’re already here?” your voice called out as you stepped out of the elevator at the signal ledge. “Usually I have to wait for you.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Ah. Personable as always.”

“I saw you the other night,” Bruce said quietly. “When he hit you.”

“Jesus, Batty. You stalk me now?” you said, an edge to your tone he didn’t like.

“Gordon and I just wanted to ask you some questions.”

“I was a little busy,” you said sarcastically.

“It isn’t funny,” he sighed tiredly, irritated. “It will never fucking be funny.”

“What the hell did you want that you couldn’t wait to talk to me now?”

“To ask you questions about that son of a bitch. We think he might be in on the prostitute killings.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You know he doesn’t have an issue with violence against women.”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me.”

“Stop fucking joking about it,” he snapped. “I just wanted to ask you for an alibi for him for those nights.”

“You can’t seriously think he did this?”

“You can’t seriously think he wouldn’t?”

You laughed derisively. “Dave wouldn’t want to get poor people’s blood on his Armani suits, Jesus. He’s a violent, scary motherfucker but - murderer for the fuck of it? Associating with prostitutes from the projects? That isn’t him.”

“He wouldn’t have qualms about killing you.”

“But there would be a motive for that. What the hell does he have an interest in killing prostitutes for the fuck of it?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’ll give you the dates. You can tell me next time if he has an alibi or not.”

“Yeah. Sure. Are you sure you’re not just trying to pin this on him because you want to put him away?”

“No.”

“Right.”

“When we saw you… we had an idea. It’s shitty and I don’t like it but you’re not giving me room to do anything else. Can we film it the next time? Leak it to the press?”

“No. No,” you said quickly, furrowing your brow and crossing your arms. “I’m not going to have this on the internet for everybody to see, for this to be judged in the court of public opinion. No.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he sighed.

“You can’t save everybody.”

“Do you even want to be saved?”

“Fuck you,” you said hotly, glaring at him. “You think I like it? Getting smacked around? Getting my bones broken and having to sit there for hours putting makeup over the bruises he made so he can walk with me in public like I’m some fucking trophy? No. But all your ideas fucking suck.”

“At least I’m trying!” he said harshly. “What are you doing to help yourself? It’s just all the time, you fight me every time I try to help you and you—“

“What were your ideas? Oh, that’s right. Take him in and question him. He’d just hit me more when he’d come home. Kill him? Do I even have to tell you why that’s fucking stupid? Oh, and now it’s to orchestrate the filming of some video where you record him hitting me and leave my bruised face to be on the covers of Gotham gossip rags? No. Fuck. You.”

“Isn’t your safety worth swallowing a bit of pride? Isn’t it worth giving up a little independence so he doesn’t hit you every day? What the fuck is playing the martyr here doing besides hurting the people that love you and yourself?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“I guess not. I guess I don’t. Because I—“

“No. You wouldn’t. You don’t fucking get it, Bruce.”

There was a moment of uneasy, pregnant silence as he stared at you, eyes wide. Not sure quite how to react, he kept quiet. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. You didn’t mean for it, your emotions were raging, and you thought of the man you loved. But no. He knew you too well, now. If you hadn’t meant to call him that, you would’ve immediately interjected, said you messed up, but instead you were glaring at him, challenging him wordlessly.

What could he even say?

He wouldn’t have loved you if you weren’t clever enough to figure him out. Your quick wit was one of his favorite things about you. But it was clearly dangerous, too.

“You knew?” he whispered.

You walked closer to him, pressing your body against his, letting him wrap his gloved hands around your waist. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Bruce?” you asked quietly, your lips ghosting his. “Seriously. Did you honestly think I would never figure it out? Jesus. I’ve kissed almost every inch of your body, had sex with you every week for months, had your voice in my ear moaning my name and you think I’m not going to recognize you with your fucking bat suit on and if you pitch your voice a little deeper? I’ve spent hours pressed against your body. I know you, Bruce, I’d always know you even if you tried to hide from me.”

Wasn’t that a declaration of love, if nothing else? Your closeness, an unparalleled closeness, you were saying anywhere, anytime, anyhow, I would see you, I would see right through any disguise you ever dreamed up because you are mine. His body, an extension of your own, something you’d make out in the dark snowy streets of Gotham, clad in a black suit, black boots, and black cowl and you’d still know it was him, your baby, your lover.

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said, moving out of the embrace to hold you by the shoulders and look in your eyes. “I’ve never liked lying to you… but If I could protect you from this part of myself… I wanted to. You don’t deserve this, to get caught up in this.”

“Then why the fuck did you keep pushing me to talk to Batman when we first met?”

“Because. I could provide you safety that Bruce can’t. The lenses. The lessons. All Bruce has is money you won’t take. Fuck. All I’ve done is put you in more danger.”

“Either way… you are who you are. If you didn’t want me to be caught up in all this you wouldn’t have talked to me at that gala or came to my diner or fucked me. If you truly believed you were too dangerous to be loved… you wouldn’t have done any of that. If it’s dangerous to be with Batman… it’s dangerous to be with Bruce, too. Right? You’re both.”

“But no one else knows that. You didn’t know that. It’s not as dangerous to be with… the man you thought you knew.”

“So now what? This is over because you think you can’t keep me safe?”

“No! No,” Bruce said desperately, reaching for your wrist, the thought of you walking away already making his heart break. “That’s not what I said. I’d just… I’d prefer if you didn’t know.”

“Too fucking bad. I’d prefer it if you didn’t keep this from me. Looks like neither of us fucking won.”

“You are mad. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Of course I’m upset, Bruce. Christ,” you scoffed. “This was huge. Not to mention an insult to my fucking intelligence. Christ. You should’ve at least told me before you fucked me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his bottom lip trembling. “I still love you. I kept it from you because I love you. I… I had no idea you knew. When did you figure it out?”

“I always thought… maybe, but then I was like, there’s no way my Bruce would be out roaming Gotham at night taking on criminals. But then I saw your bruises when we started fucking and every week there were new ones and then you told me you got in a fight… I thought, you know, maybe, and maybe this is why he never leaves the house and Alfred saying you never got sunlight… but I kept it to myself.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t figure out why the hell you were keeping it from me. I still don’t. But I’m fucking tired of pretending I don’t know and aren’t you tired of hiding from me? I’m more upset than anything that you felt like you couldn’t trust me enough. I would never tell anybody.”

“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” he said stiffly. “It was you. Your safety.”

“Baby… nowhere in Gotham is safe. Knowing Batman’s identity isn’t going to put me more at risk especially not when I was already fucking him. Right? Did you honestly think I would never figure it out?”

“No… I just hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Bruce, baby, it’s a good thing you never leave the house,” you teased.

“But when… what made you realize definitively?”

“I told you I always thought… maybe. Especially after I kissed you the first time when you had the suit on and then you kissed me at the apple orchard… I thought you felt familiar.”

“You knew it was me from my mouth?” he asked, unable to stop himself from smirking.

You grinned. “Don’t get cocky. I mean, now I’d definitely recognize that mouth anywhere.”

“Yeah?” he asked, kissing you deeply.

“You think you’d recognize mine?” you asked, biting his bottom lip lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Blindfolded.”

“Don’t. I’m still upset. Although that’s an idea…”

“Stop while you’re ahead,” he said softly, starting to feel hot under the collar and tight under the suit. “What else were you going to say?”

“Well… There were all your bruises and scars and the fact that you knew how to do stitches and Alfred knowing how to set broken bones and all the medical equipment in your house…”

“You knew my father was a doctor. I thought maybe you would just assume that’s why.”

“Maybe. If it wasn’t for all the other things.”

“Like?”

“You quoting My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy in the batsuit? I mean, Jesus. You think there’s another man in Gotham who love them as much as you do?”

“My Chemical Romance was a Jersey band. Odds aren’t as low as you think they are. You hang out with too many old people,” he said, grinning.

You laughed and pushed him playfully. “Yeah? And you hang out with nobody besides me and Gordon. How would you know?”

He shrugged. “I can hope.”

“Sure.”

“Do you still love me?” he asked, hugging you tightly to his chest.

“Yeah. I’m always going to love you, Bruce," you said softly. “But this was a lot to hide from me.”

“I love you,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry. I tried to keep it from you to keep you safe. The less you knew the better. I’m taking a whole city on. I’m at odds with your husband. Bruce isn’t.”

“You are Bruce,” you said.

“Yes. But not really. He really only exists with you. That’s why it was so easy to just… keep this separate. You’re the only one who really knows Bruce… or me without the mask.”

“Alfred?”

“Alfred doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t let him in by choice. He was always there. I… I’m grateful for him. We’ve… drifted since I started this. He understands why I’m doing it, but he wasn’t happy about it at first. He still isn’t thrilled.”

“He has to wonder if each time is the last time he sees you. You know that’s got to be where his concern is, right?”

Bruce mulled that over for a second, nodding, swallowing his guilt. All the years he snarked at Alfred, told him off, told him to stop worrying about him… as if Alfred could help it. The nagging was incessant and annoying, especially when he was frequently injured the first couple of months, but… it was a form of love in hindsight. “Yeah. You’re right. I know the feeling now,” he admitted. “It’s… fear, gnawing anxiety. You know… I tried to close myself off from it. When my parents died… I told myself I wasn’t going to let myself get that close to anybody again, to fear losing them. But then… I met you. And damn it all to hell, right? If we never… if we never met again past that night I pulled you over, I think I’d still worry about you. But now it’s just compounded, now that I know you and I love you.”

“Love hurts.”

“But it’s worth it. You’re worth it, baby.”

“You think?”

“I know,” he said firmly.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Believe me.”

“But were you? Or were you just going to keep me in the dark?”

“I was going to tell you… just… I wanted you to be safe first. I didn’t want you to worry about me, too. It wanted to keep you safe. From whatever’s going on in Gotham, and from me.”

“From you? You’re trying to do good, baby. That’s the only reason I’m not livid right now. You’re trying to do the right thing for Gotham. You’re a good man. That’s why I love you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done… what I want to do.”

“Okay. Jesus Christ, Bruce… this shit has to stop,” you sighed irritatedly. “You’re not going to keep talking cryptically and have me sit here trying to figure out what the fuck you’re referring to because this isn’t the first time you said that. I know who you are. Just fucking spit it out.”

“I’m… I’m Vengeance. Vengeance isn’t merciless, it’s not kind, it’s not beautiful. It’s punitive, exacting, angry. Hideous, scarred, motivated by rage.”

“Someone should be angry,” you said, shrugging. “Somebody should be. The reason Dave is trying to block your actions here? He’s afraid you might bring about real change. You might give people something to hope for, that this city could improve rather than stay complacent like he wants.”

“I don’t inspire hope. I inspire fear,” he muttered.

“From reactionaries. That’s what you want. If they’re afraid of you, you’re doing the right thing. What the hell did you do that was so bad?”

“When I… when I first started out, months into this, I hurt somebody. Bad enough he was in the hospital for weeks, maybe closer to a month. Maybe he deserved it. I don’t know. But it never felt like he did.”

“What did he do that made you go after him in the first place?”

Bruce sighed. “He was the head of a gang. It’s not around anymore, it disbanded after I got to him with Gordon… just… he killed a rival gang member’s wife. The other gang wasn’t great, either, don’t get me wrong, but he killed her in cold blood for nothing. His battle wasn’t with her. He threatened to hurt the kids next. I… I would’ve killed him if Gordon wasn’t there. I’m not saving people, not really. I’m avenging the dead and maybe that’s all I’m fucking good at. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I can’t fucking help you either—“

You cut him off suddenly, leaning up to kiss him, your hand firm on the back of his cowl. “Bruce. Shh. That’s not all you’ve done. You can’t reduce yourself to one single action. You went too far. Your emotions got the best of you. It doesn’t mean you’re a fuck up. Your net contributions are still in the positive. And you’re not done.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t have hope myself, it’s just the anger that pushes me. There’s so much violence against women here that I didn’t realize until I started doing this and it’s… it’s terrible and so often they’re collateral damage. My mother… whenever my parents’ deaths are brought up, reporters usually just say Thomas and his wife. Sometimes they don’t even say her name. And I… I still don’t know why they were killed or who killed them but she didn’t like the public light any more than I do. It made her depressed, claustrophobic. She avoided it, and you know, maybe that’s part of the reason they only say my father’s name, but she didn’t deserve it either and she should be remembered like he is. Whatever happened… whatever the reason they were killed, I guarantee they were targeting my father and my mother was just unfortunate enough to have married into the Waynes and married to a man who wanted to be mayor and might have actually brought about real change. And now? They don’t even say her name. Thomas’ wife. Mrs. Wayne. But… she was Martha and she was kind and she did so much for charities and then some fucking… monster shot her and my father in cold blood and left me there to watch and then what? Live with it? Well, fuck that. I hope I’m a problem for whoever it was now.”

“Baby…” you said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“I don’t want sympathy,” he said. “I… I don’t usually get into this with anybody. I don’t like to talk about them with Alfred. He loved my parents, knew them for so long… I’m jealous of him.”

Bruce stopped in his tracks for a moment. He never realized that “jealous” was the word until he said it, that that was the main divide between him and the older man. All their other arguments erupted from that, that Bruce would never get the chance to know Martha and Thomas to the extent that Alfred did. And Alfred knew it wasn’t fair, that maybe Bruce’s anger was righteous in a sense, but it still led to strife.

You hugged him tightly, then, giving him the sympathy he explicitly asked you not to give him. But he took it anyway, buried his masked face in your hair, and cried silently.

“Who told you to take the weight of Gotham and put it on your shoulders?” you whispered.

“I have to do this. I have to. This is me doing something, this is carrying on my family’s legacy, and… I want you to be part of it now. I want Gotham to be a safe place for us… to get married, and have kids… I don’t care what happens to me as long as I have that.”

“But I do,” you said. “I care what happens to you. Your children would care what happens to you. You can’t worry about me and expect me not to worry about you.”

“This has been my fight before you, for you…”

“You know how I really knew it was you? That goddamn savior complex. Jesus. Even without the mask, you were always trying to make dealing with Dave your responsibility. It really drives everything you do, hm? It’s going to kill you someday, baby.”

“If I can do anything… I have to try. I haven’t felt safe since my parents were alive and now I know even then that was a false sense of security. When’s the last time you felt safe?”

“When I’m with you,” you said, and his heart swelled. “So maybe you are doing something here.”

“That’s all I want, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to keep you safe, make you feel safe… I love you.”

“I love you. I know you, baby,” you whispered, placing your hand on his jaw softly. “You don’t have to hide from me anymore. You’re safe with me, too.”

“You can… you can take the mask off. I trust you,” he said, nodding, blinking back tears. Maybe part of the reason he never told you was that that meant he was getting close to you, irrevocably close, and while he loved you fiercely with every fiber in his being, he was still terrified of letting someone else see and perceive him, all of him as a whole. The vulnerability was unparalleled as you lifted the mask around his eyes. Helping you, he unattached the cowl from the suit, and you removed it from his head, his hair falling in his face as it came off. You held it in your hands, staring at it, then back at him, your face unreadable.

“Do you feel better?” you asked.

Bruce nodded, swallowing against the lump forming in his throat. “Thank you. Thank you for loving me this much.”

“As if I could help it,” you said, hugging him, the mask pressed between your bodies.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he breathed, pulling you away from his chest, lifting your chin to make you look into his eyes, no doubt crowded by dark pomade streaked with sweat and tears. “I never… I never thought I would get this.”

Leaning down, he kissed you firmly. He’d been getting better about initiating intimacy and touches with you recently, but the suit spurred his confidence as well as the fact that you knew him, now, and you still wanted all of him. His hands traveled across your body, settling to grasp your breasts, your back arching forward into his touch.

“How uncomfortable is it to get hard in this thing?” you teased breathlessly, your eyes gleaming.

“I don’t make a habit of it,” he grunted.

“No? You don’t think about me on your way back home after a night out, think about me sucking you off or—“

“That’s what showers are for,” he said, cutting you off and kissing you again, surprising both of you when his teeth caught your bottom lip in his when he let go.

“Yeah?” you asked. “I highly doubt you have that kind of self-control to wait until you take this suit off.”

“What is it that you think I do?”

“I think you can’t even wait to take the suit off sometimes, that you’re so needy and achy and desperate you palm yourself through the suit until you cum.”

Kissing you with force he didn’t even know he had, his hands firm against your jaw, his tongue thrusting in your mouth, you moaned loudly against his mouth, pulling his hair until he grunted in response.

“Yeah? Why don’t you do it this time?” he said breathlessly, already feeling his cock start to strain and twitch beneath the tight fabric.

“Christ,” you muttered. “The fuck has gotten into you?”

“I need you, fuck,” he grunted as you finally touched him, squeezing him through the suit, kissing him hard.

“We need to get out of here,” you said, grinning at him as you pulled away from him completely. “If someone comes up here…”

“Fine,” he growled, kissing you again, grabbing his motorcycle helmet, hating that you decided to be the voice of reason at that exact moment. Pulling you by the hand, he led you back to the elevator shaft, using every possible second to press his mouth to yours, his cock fully hard and throbbing against the suit by the time he mounted the motorcycle. You started to jerk him as he drove but he snatched your hand away, telling you that if you wanted to make it to the manor alive you’d better stop. Flying through the tunnel, he laughed as you yelped when the bats flew above your heads.

“Christ, Bruce, isn’t that a little overkill? You have a literal batcave?”

“I like bats,” he said. “Clearly… So do you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you laughed.

“Yeah? Gladly,” he said, kissing you again, your back flush against the wall.

“I am not fucking you here. I don’t want this audience,” you giggled, gesturing at the ceiling.

“They won’t bother us,” he said.

“Bruce…” you said, glaring at him.

“I wouldn’t make you stay here if you were uncomfortable. Come on, love,” he said, leading you up the stairs through the manor to his bedroom.

Placing the mask on his dresser, you turned to look at him. “You really are such a good man. I hope you know that.”

“I hope so,” he said, biting his lip. “I fucking hope so.”

“Show me what you do to yourself, Bruce. After your long hard nights when you’re so tired and aching for release and I’m not here… yeah, that’s it, baby,” you said as he sat down on the bed and started palming himself roughly, moaning wantonly as you took over. Looking down, he saw the outline of his cock was extremely clear thanks to the tightness of his suit, something he’d failed to notice before this. “Do you have to spill all over the suit a lot, baby? So desperate to cum you can’t bother to take it off?”

“Need… I fucking need…” He panted, bucking his hips against your hand, kissing you firmly, whimpering at your touches.

“Yeah, I know, baby, I know. Let it go. You can let go for me, it’s okay.”

It didn’t feel as good as he knew it could, with your hand able to wrap all the way around his bare cock and jerk him, but you were still so close, the smell of your perfume heady and making him dizzy, your lips on his, his hands trailing across your body. You were right, though, there had been a few nights he needed the release but could barely keep his eyes open, and he’d wake up with the sweat and cum sticking the suit to his skin.

He couldn’t warn you that he was on the brink as you were kissing him, your other hand carding through his hair, but he grunted against your mouth as he came, gasping for air as you pulled away.

“That feels good, baby?” you asked.

“Mm. I love you,” he said.

“I love you. You want me to clean you up?”

“No. Your turn now.”

“Yeah? What are you planning on doing to me?”

He didn’t answer you, just crawled over to you until you laid on your back, pulling down your leggings and panties and pushing a finger into your wet heat. You moaned, clenching around him, tilting your head back.

“You think you can take another one?” he asked, looking at you. “Mm? Want to fuck you so good.”

“Yeah,” you whimpered. “Please.”

He nodded, kissing you sloppily, a trail of spit connecting your mouths as he moved over to your neck, laving the skin there over and over again. Fucking you in the suit was so different, feeling your cunt with his gloved fingers felt like he was fucking you blind, or rather, numb. The thick fabric and wicking of the gloves along with the wrapping underneath prevented him from feeling how wet you were, although how easily he was able to slide his fingers into your cunt was a good indication. He’d had a feeling you’d like this, feeling stretched out in a way just his fingers couldn’t do. Even if he preferred to feel you without the hindrance, it was worth it to see your face, blissful as you bit your lip and closed your eyes, whimpering against his mouth and arching your back as he slowly stretched you out with his third finger.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I don’t know if I can take three.”

“You sure? I think you can,” he said, dragging them slowly against your walls. “That too much?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said.

“Good girl, taking my fingers so well,” he whispered. “You want my mouth, too? Hm, love?”

“Fuck. Yes,” you cried out as he flicked his thumb over your clit.

Nodding, he got to work, burying himself between your thighs, tasting the salt of your sweat and your slick, still fucking your cunt with his fingers. He wondered vaguely how he looked to you right now, like a wild animal eating his last meal, maybe, face streaked with sweat and tears and black eye makeup, and now, you— coating his tongue and mouth and chin and nose and gloves.

“Tell me how it feels,” he said. “I want to know.”

“Feels so fucking good, baby,” you panted, pulling his hair with one hand. “Give me your other hand.”

He obliged, reaching his other hand up for you to grab and you pulled at the fingertips, yanking the glove off and intertwining your fingers with his. Intimacy in a rather raw moment, causing his heart to swell, threaten to burst, and he knew he was so lucky, so beyond lucky to have you and be able to love you and cherish you and fuck you and even though things were far from perfect… you still had each other.

“I fucking love you so much,” he whispered, smiling as the vibration made you twitch. Fucking you faster now, he had you moaning, squeezing his head between your thighs until you came, calling his name as your chest heaved. Slipping his fingers out of you, he kept lapping at you with his tongue as you rode out your high, feeling your cunt twitch at the aftershocks, only stopping when you pushed him away.

“How the fuck do you get out of this thing?” You asked, stroking his hair lazily as he came back to lay beside you.

“Mm. Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, kissing your nose.

“Don’t be a smart ass or I won’t let you cum.”

“Mm. You say that…”

“Seriously. How?”

It’s a good ten minutes or so to undress him, the two of you laughing and kissing in between as zippers get stuck.

“I can see why you wouldn’t bother to take it off,” you said. “Pain in the ass.”

“It’s worth it right now,” Bruce said, smiling at you.

“Yeah?”

You kissed down his chest, and some part of him felt like you were seeing him bare for the first time, and maybe in a way… you were. Trailing kisses down around his cock, he whimpered as you licked at the cum that had dried to his skin.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protested.

“Mm. I want to,” you said, continuing to lick at him, then slowly you kissed around the circumference of his cock before you took him in your mouth. His hands flew to your head instinctively, burying in your hair.

“You… you can’t. I want to be in you. Now.”

“You want to do the blindfold?” you asked, looking up at him.

“No. Not tonight. Want to see you,” he said. “Come here.”

You obliged, crawling back up to him, kissing his mouth.

“I love you so much, you know? And… anything, I mean, anything you want or need, just ask me, okay, love? You’ve given me so much that I thought I would never have. I just want to do the same.”

“Okay, Bruce, new rule… you’re only allowed to make me cry after we fuck,” you muttered, letting him wipe the tear under your eye.

“I’m sorry. Did I just kill—“

“No,” you said, cutting him off with a firm kiss. You hooked your legs across his hips, ghosting your cunt over his tip over and over again, driving him mad.

“Good. Need you. Please,” he whimpered, both of you groaning as you sunk onto his cock, filling yourself up to the hilt. You felt so warm, sitting on him, clenching around him. “Please move.”

You nodded, setting a slow but steady rhythm, your breasts dangling in his face. Like a goddess above him, almost, although he didn’t quite want to put that word on it, give the religious connotation to it. Beautiful, though, ethereal, effervescent. “Yeah? You like that, baby, when I bounce on your cock? Hm? Feel how wet you make me, how you stretch me out so good, Bruce?”

“Christ, you have to stop talking like that,” he grunted, gripping your hips as he started meeting you for each thrust. Leaning down, you kissed him, his hand firm on the nape of your neck.

“You don’t like it?”

“I fucking love it… you know that. I just want to last," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stave off his orgasm even though all he wanted to do was watch you on his cock. Fumbling, he let go of your hips with his right hand and started rubbing your clit with his thumb, hoping he could get you to cum before he did.

"If you're going to do that, I'm not going to fucking last either," you whimpered, reaching out to touch his jaw. "Look at me, baby."

"I don't want--"

"It's okay," you assured him. "I want you to look at me."

Nodding, he looked up at you, drawing slow circles on your clit as you clenched around him, moaning softly. "I'm gonna cum, baby, are you? Can you cum with me?"

"Yes, love, please let go," Bruce whispered. "Please. For me."

Clenching around him again, you moaned his name as your thrusts started to slow and it wasn't long before Bruce came as well, your cunt milking his cock as he groaned your name over and over again like a mantra.

"Why did you say you never thought you would get this? That just... that makes me so sad," you said, sliding off of him and lying next to him.

"My life isn't easy. I don't... I'm fully aware I chose this and I didn't have to do it but it's not easy. I can't expect anyone else to want to live it with me."

"I do," you said firmly. "I do."

"I love you so much."

"Not as much as I love you."

"Okay... this I'm not doing though," he laughed, kissing your temple.

"Fine. Let's clean up."

------ Bruce had half a mind not to tell Alfred you knew about Batman and to just let you leave through the back entrance, but he decided it was best to face the music sooner rather than later.

The two of you headed down the stairs for breakfast late in the morning, and Alfred looked up from the paper at the two of you.

"How nice of you to join me. Next time, though, Bruce... if you two are going to engage in your... proclivities, please do the courtesy of giving me notice, next time?"

Bruce blushed beet red and realized that was why there was a place setting for you as well... he already fucking knew.

"I'm sorry!" you and Bruce both said at the same time.

Alfred just smiled at you. "I take it you know about the Batman now?"

"I mean. I've known for a while but I finally got it out of him last night."

"As well as other things, it seems," Alfred said and Bruce nearly choked on his piece of toast. "Well. Welcome to the family."

You smiled at the two of them, and while Bruce had long considered you family it warmed his heart to see that Alfred was accepting you as well, even if he was at odds with Alfred about his lack of concern over the fate of Wayne Enterprises recently. He had you. He had his crusade, yes, but more importantly, he had you. A hope to be whole again. Family.

NEXT CHAPTER