#and there's only three good tim fics. goodnight. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years ago

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hae interrogationes multae respondeant quia demens .

if you read this entire ask post you deserve a gold star and financial recompensation

Um, Obviously because when you’re adopted by a white guy you automatically become white duhhh

this is about this post lmao and yeah youre absolutely right, you have to hand your poc card in when you get adopted by a white guy.

Do you think Cass would listen to Yanni, the YouTube channel epic symphonic rock, or some other stuff? There's some cool mashups but idk if that's up your alley, I kinda feel like I'm pushing it with my weird taste of music by recommending an orchestra cover of metal, but i just love that sort of thing and mashups :P @harvestyourcherries

i haven’t heard of that? but in my personal (correct) opinion steph listens to classical music, and then both modern and older, and then also stuff like black sabbath, iron maiden, but also hardrock and hardcore. i like the idea of cass just liking the most extreme screaming songs full of noise and then also listen to pachelbel’s 370th sonata yanno? THANK YOU for the rec tho

speaking of ur cass playlist hc...reminds of the time (yesterday) i found 2 playlists randomly on spotify from the same user. one was abt 3 hours of instrumental/classical "dark" & "nostalgic" music. the other almost 11 hours of nothing but hardcore bass/synth/electronic music. just an incredible tightrope act to put on in public. the synth one was also called like "psalms for synth sluts" which is Also incredible

tbh i LOVE synth SO MUCH like for no reason at all but then also cannot handle a poppy electronic beat lmao. but this seems like the kinda thing i’d do but just in one (1) playlist bc i just sort songs by vibe instead of genre? that’s how i end up with britney spears and billy ray cyrus in the same playlist.

Oh, I want Kate Kane playlist next! It would be amazing if you could do one when you have time and will 🙏

how rude would it be of me to just say no? like sorry kate but idk you and also you seem way too keen on the us military for an institution that homophobically targeted you? (and also commits war crimes) but let’s unpack the fact that the institution that caused the death of your mom and sister and also got you blacklisted for being gay is still one you align with???

'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' --- when i tell you i fucking screamed LOL!!!!!!! i can imagine the cameraman not knowing if he should cut to commercial or keep it on these two weirdos fighting on stage (bruce definitely ruffled dick's hair/noogied him right??

about this post but yeah lmao. this cameraman just turns to like the audience to get a reaction and it’s just multiple moments of CLEAR shock.

you are the only funny person on this hellsite

how egotistical is it for me to say that i get this ask multiple times a month? bc it literally happens so often it’s hilarious to me.

Wish there was more john/Bruce content 😔😔😔 was so hungry I actually looked at canon media 😔😔😔 (Justice League Dark babeeeyyyyyy)

check out batman: damned for some mediocre content but at least it’s john/bruce (also very interesting story and stuff, just got very >:( over this weird part where harley quinn tried to r*pe bruce or something? it’s not for everyone)

dick grayson but he's nicki minaj

his anaconda don’t want none,,, unless......

Dick Grayson was never a cop, he played Marshall on Paw Patrol

you are SO right. also paw patrol is a fucking good show idc. that shit could’ve been the new steven universe on this hellsite.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CS1lI0bLI7-/?utm_medium=copy_link

...

why do people keep reposting my CONTENT. if you are not funny yourself don’t just grab shit off of tumblr and post it on insta,,, get a life. sidenote: should i start an insta and get all these ppl to take my content down that would be funny as hell.

Might I suggest for a Gotham City Meme: something about the true crime fandom thirsting for the rogues gallery

ok can i just say something slightly controversial?? no? i don’t find true crime ppl who are into criminals funny, that shits disturbing irl im not gonna bring that into my very chill universe.

i may have never seen a 'jason cleaning guns in sink' fic but i do know he WOULD

THANK YOU

bestie im sorry to say this to you but while you can, and people do wash their guns in the sink, that is a lot of lead in a very vital part of the kitchen.

people tend to do it in the bathtub.

WHY???? like damn why do you even have guns

i dont think i read many gun sink fics exactly but i have read lots of fics where jason cleanes his guns in the living room. usualy dissembles them and cleans them with a rag i think

lmao fair enough, like i think that’s a large part of what i remember as well.

if you say you've seen/read gun sink fics I believe you. I think those of us who didn't see them are lucky or maybe didn't search for fics by tags or something idk

i mean ive never sought them out but i HAVE seen them,, like definitely i know almost for certain.

saw your tags and I'm interested in Steph/Kara now. They would be the most chaotic couple <3

literally thoooo, i have a wip where they get together in a zombie apocalypse and like UGGGHhhh i am so in love with them.

I am the Breece anon. Thanks for the recommendation; am reading now. I’ve always been a hardcore Superman fan because I love my pure himbo farm boy. My logic is, if one Bruce is a Broose, then multiple Broose are a herd of Breece. And this is a hill upon which I will perish.

fair enough,,,, like moose, meese, goose, geese, bruce, breece. i get your logic and i stand by it as well. (glad you enjoyed the comic recs!!!!)

It's a beautiful day in Gotham, and you are a group of horrible Breece

OH my god dude lmao

there only being 42 fics on ao3 for tim and bernard is honestly so sad i need more

it’s like twice that now!!! we did it lads. (tho very sad that my fic isnt number one but like number 4 :(((( )

i'm too late you already did the poll lol but may i suggest bethy (bernard + timothy)

shit dude that wouldve been so fucking funnyyyyy. think ppl have just stuck to timber tho, tim/bernard kinda died down recently and i think it’s too bad, they’re a great couple and i love them.

Wait, hear me out

Bernothy @redlightofdawn

great recommendation (lmao this ask is from like a month ago) but very sorry to announce that NARDTH is the superior shipname

Wait, we know that bernard likes milfs (Tim's step-mom) but what about dilfs? gilfs?

Wait no, I regret sending that ask

these were two seperate asks and they’re HILARIOUS. in my personal opinion tho,,, milfs, gilfs, dilfs are just about vibes and bernard is just attracted to sexy ppl who may sometimes be milfs, dilfs, or EVEN gilfs.

crime in bludhaven would drop to half if nightwing had a boob window. in this essay i will-

WHERE’S THE ESSAY ANON, WHERE’S THE FUCKING ESSAY

Wait if Barbra and Tim r at opposite ends at all times what happened to Barbra once everyone’s Tim’s ever love before started dying lol

she won a lottery ticket and spent 2 weeks on a resort in the bahamas before returning home and finding out that the joker was arrested for tax evasion and then spent a month staying at her big tiddie goth girlfriend’s house before conner came back to life and she broke her pinkie playing table hockey.

Why is the opposite end thing so funny and compelling to me. Tim comes back from his depression quest for Bruce and Babs is now a literal god

lmao when tim loses his spleen barbara reaches nirvana.

Are you still taking music recs because I have three songs that remind me of Jason that I think you'd like

send to me or lose a toe

🌸 ⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐🌸😋

thanks, i wont tho on account of i wont.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMduBy3Sr/

⬆️

This is the whole of Blüdhaven and everyone anywhere.

Nightwings ass alone saves more people in a calendar year and does more for so society than most heroes do their whole career.Also u are one of the funniest tumblr pages out there. The vibes are unmatched and the memes and tags ✨send me✨.Thank u and goodnight @julia-flow

fanksss also lmao.

That's going to be a little bit difficult to explain, but

There's some music that you listen to and you think, "oh my gosh, I can perfectly imagine Dick Grayson singing this song, with the same voice as the singer because that voice matches with Dick Grayson"?

oh yeah totally lmao. i have a lot of songs that i think are just entirely dick grayson yanno? kind of all of my playlists have that vibe, but i really find bleachers to fit with dick? idk.

"Lois lane/Superman" fics this, "Lois lane/Clark Kent" fics that, (/lh) let's get into the real good stuff. Some people ship Lois, Clark, and Superman as a throuple. Most popular fic tag for sure

yes totally, i think they’d be absolutely killer on ao3 and clark gets so fucking embarassed about it.

I miss your post, hope you’re doing okay!!

haha this was like 2 months ago, but i was doing fine then too! just didn’t have a lot of inspiration in terms of content.

Doot doot!

noot noot

I’m confused. What did DC do now? Like with nightwing? And another sibling? Please spoil everything for me

lmao they gave him a secret sister plotline where they had his dad cheat on his mom with tony zucco’s wife, bc dick’s life wasn’t traumatic enough yet.

sorry but it's so funny that batman is called "the dark knight" when the gotham city baseball team is called the gotham knights. it'd be like if a vigilante was running around new york called like "the scary yankee"

lmaooo no. but like yankee comes from dutch names or something so wouldnt it be HILARIOUS if gotham knights came from like german names and bruce would be running around called the dark KLAUS UND NIEK @graysonnightwing

(not a batcest shipper) it’s so funny to me that the responses are “i’m a batcest shipper because i can differentiate fiction from reality and and it doesn’t bother me personally, but i understand why you oils think it’s weird” to “i wish all batcest shippers a very fucking die”

yeah lmaoo. i personally basically flipped my entire stance around to ‘i dont care please leave me and everybody else alone’ bc i think there’s really no point in starting a moral dillema over some fucking fandom bullshit. Please just,,, go home,,, log off, find a nice forest to have a little walk in and remember that somewhere in history, somebody probably died in the place you’re standing. and you will also die someday, and somebody will have to look at your internet usage and see you fighting multiple people anonymously while being named ‘nightwingsbuttchin200186′ like... calm down, we’re all gonna die this is not the thing to worry about.

so since like "wards" don't really exist in modern society almost all the batkids are foster kids, right? i used to work in the system and imagine: monthly visits from social workers and guardian ad litems, bruce having to get permission to take the boys anywhere out of state, calling their social worker at like 8 a.m. like "yeah dick broke his arm again... a gymnastics accident this time...." their poor social worker. bruce send her a huge bouquet and box of chocolates every month to stay on her good side

i imagine the social worker just getting into the case like ‘yeah let’s get this kid a good guardian’ and then ending up having to work with 22 y/o bruce wayne and his 50 y/o dad. and so this social worker is like ‘okay we can work with this, this is the best home i can find’ and then like it ends up landing on its feet and then the kid gets adopted and then they get a call a year later like ‘uhm so hi, this kid tried to steal my tyres can i adopt him?’ and like 3 years later. ‘okay so basically, my neighbours’ kid imprinted on me and now they’re dead, can i keep him?’ two years later it’s like ‘okay so this assassin child-’

ever since I saw that one post of yours, the meme that's something like "I know that abba's backup dancer got me" with a picture of discowing, I've been haunted. Every once in a while I'll be minding my own business then the image of abba's backup dancer dick grayson aka nightwing aka discowing will flash in my mind and I'll be frozen in place. Today at work I was in the middle of folding clothes and suddenly once again discowing entered my mind and I suddenly lost the ability to see anything except He. Thank you.

wow. the IMPACT.

Braver than any US marine man props to you🤝

this shit is about the time i wrote an article on batcest, like man,,, the fact that i didn’t get cancelled is MIRACULOUS. also like,,, uh if anybody on here did gossip on me,, send screenshots i’d love to see it.

Hello, just wanted to say your article was great. Thank you for taking the time to provide an unbaised answer. It should provide people with nuances they couldn't possibly conjure on their own.

May I ask where your username originates from?

yes you may (also thanks!!!) i thought it up when i was trying to find an original username bc i didnt want to be called like ‘timdrakes something something’ or ‘jason todd something smoething’ or ‘dick grayson something something’ yanno? so i thought batarangs, they sound so dumb and that’s my username story... now it’s my whole entire brand lmao.

yno that bit in kick ass where red mist asks kick ass if he wants a hit of his blunt, was that the inspo for stoner tim

no? it’s bc i think stoners are hilarious and drugs are great. (dont do drugs tho)

How would u feel if someone actually wore one of those bruce or ollie pride shirts u edited

fenomenal next question.

Dick as lil huddy and Jason as James gave me radiation poisoning and now I’m screaming crying throwing up so thx for that

(Rico suave as Tim is perfect tho literally no changes needed)

i was so funny for that shit wasn’t i??? lmao i loved those weird ass fancasts

You're doing the Lord's work by providing us with all these Gotham/Metropolis citizens memes, thank you for being so relentlessly funny @nellethiel-aranel

you’re welcome!! i really enjoy making memes, but getting validation for my content and my memes is REALLY nice.

Bruce is such a slut in your memes and honestly i love that for him @rhodey-rhudert-rhodes-main

he’s that much of a slut irl too dw.

Bruce and Alfred have an emergency pride flag for the batkids. Oliver Queen printed an emergency "I love my gay son" t-shirt and as soon as Roy told him he was dating Jason, Oliver started wearing that shirt everyday and Roy always cringes when he sees it. Oliver also has an emergency "I love my lesbian daughter" shirt just in case for Cissie.

lmao YES i had a post like this bc like all of their kids/family members are so gayy

stop bringing back batfam fancasts it is not real it is not real it is not- 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

oh yes it is my darling.

did discowing burn down the notredam because he hates the bees? @allulily

no he did it bc fuck the french.

im gonna beg for 1 thing and 1 thing only. please please please put physical by olivia newton john on dick's playlist

okay then beg. bc i wont. physical reminds me too much of glee and that hurts me mentally.

your playlist is sorely missing some Madonna. Specifically Into the Groove, Like a Prayer, and Vogue

i’m scared of madonna that’s why she’s not on there. she haunts me in my dreams.

suggestion: son of batman by aaron dews for dick’s playlist🤩

sorry, i listened to it and the vibe didn’t agree with me.

Hear me out, metropolis citizens sending rare pair fics of Clark Kent x Superman fics to Lois to edit

yes, absolutely hilarious. even more funny if they send like physical copies, no address attached and lois sends it back marked with red ink, SOMEHOW

Imagine all the smut Clark must of read editing the fics

clark reads smut confirmeeed

NOT LOIS READING SUPERBAT PORN AND EDITING IT A 2AM

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

hc that alfred is a meta that boosts healing factor of the people around him. if the bats are injured as much as they seem to be they would be doing bat stuff MAYBE half the year. no one including alfred knows about this. whenever the kids move out they inexplicably dont recover from injuries as fast and feel better whenever they visit the manor they just chalk it up to homesickness. bruce just thinks he heals really fast. alfred thinks everyone doesnt take care of themselves properly @finchcollector

that’s actually such a great idea, but i think that alfred would find out and learn how to concentrate it better so he can help more people, bc he’s great and i love him.

One of your dickfast posts reminded me of that tweet that goes: 'so you've had sex how many times? Yeah technically that's not a bromance' lol that's dickwally or dickroy

literally tho. like that’s all of dick’s friendships. once it gets past a certain time dick is like ‘wow i wonder what it would be like to make out with wally, wally come make out with me’ and wally’s like ‘we’ve done this like 40 times, dick, you know what it’s like’ and dick is like ‘sorry are you complaining?’ and they just make out.

superfam and batfam associations??

-batman and superman

-dick/barabara and supergirl?

-conner and tim

-jon and damian

pls enlighten me I am confused

nope,,, uhm batman and superman, but dick and superman as well, and then conner and tim, jon and damian and steph + babs with supergirl

I came across a fic in which Wonder Woman calls Batman "Stella" (like Stellaluna, the children's book) and I can imagine the batkids hop on the trend and maybe copies of the book appear at random places (aka, everywhere Bruce frequents)

sorry can’t reciprocate that was the name of my high school chemistry teacher and it gives me nightmares to think about.

good human what are your pronouns?

wouldn’t you like to know?

I need me some gothamites preferring harley over joker memes

everyone prefers harley over joker youre just very fucked up if you dont

don't understand why people try to add like veteran policy to the batfamily

dick pulling out his veteran batfam member card so he can eat first: step aside, peasants

Do you know the song Simmer by Haley Williams? It (the first verse anyways) reminds me of Jason? It's about rage.

damn yeah i LOVE HAYLEY!!!! youre right thoo

Okay so I like listen to your stoner Tim Drake playlist 24/7 but would he listen to skegss? Also I keep adding songs mentally it’s killing me 😩✋🏼 Anyways,, I literally love and worship your playlist 😃🤞🏼 And uh yeah have a good day ✨

stoner tim drake playlist is lyfeeee. also dont know who skeggs is? i’m stupid? have a good day!!

All the Robins (and Batgirl) decide to trade costumes for one night just to fuck with Batman and all the villains in Gotham. @subspacecadet

batman knows it’s them youknow but like,,, what does he call them? he’s like ‘red hood?’ and 3 people answer and he’s not about to compromise some identities so he’s just Pissed.

I aspire to treat cops the way my dad treats them. This man is a 45 year old Asian immigrant to the US and the treats them like his pets. He talks about them like unruly children. Sometimes he pays off local cops to shut up and stop acting racist. And usually it works. I don’t know why but I can see Oliver Queen doing this

vibes... and also yes? oliver queen handing a local cop a donut to shut the fuck up lmao. but yanno i commit enough crimes to not really want to ever see a cop ever, so they kinda scare the everloving fuck out of me.

seeing as tim hasn't aged in years, that means he was 17 at peak emo tumblr era. im back on my emo tim bullshit and im not letting it go

emo tim had a wattpad account send tweet

People seem to think that batman is so dark and serious when the rainbow batsuit is right there. He wore it with no shame.

dude the 60s were a DIFFERENT TIME

dick grew up in a circus, jason grew up on the streets, and tim was probably raised by the internet

all of them cuss every other word and you cannot tell me otherwise

bitch i KNOW but dc has to change to an 18+ rating if they want to sell comix with swear words in them so we gotta deal with imagining the swear words in ourselves

thoughts on teen titans and young justice

haven’t seen teen titans on account of havent seen it and young justice was LITERALLY my favourite thing ever, tho i do gotta admit it’s not at all similar to the young justice comics unfortunately. i really wouldve liked to see timmy bart kon cassie and cissie animated on tv!!

ew ew ew how to delete batcest shippers I genuinely digust them

log off tumblr?

Okay as poc who was called racist for calling an Italian pastabrain: in the batfam are Italians bit Damian just yells various insults about the others being Italian. Just him yelling “What are you doing you moronic spaghettihead!” At steph etc

huh? i meant real italians. homeboy is telling steph he hopes she chokes on her fucking garlic.

I think it's dumb as hell to pull the batman is the best fighter in the batfam argument because like it's just irresponsible of Bruce to let his kids fight when they couldn't possibly be on his league or something

fair enough, but also like who cares they could all kill you just sit down and take a beating.

lady shiva, thalia al ghul and Selina Kyle are all milfs @notanothertimburtonenthusiastugh

unfortunately, i have to admit,,, you’re right

why tf didn't someone give joker a death sentence already? like he's a mass murderer...give him the electric chair treatment wtf

idk i think plenty of people would have tried to murder him already (boring answer is: he is a popular character so they can’t kill him off bc he brings in lots of money)

There’s no such thing as “ copaganda”.

all american media is propaganda. happy to clear this up for you

is it bad that I find lady shiva owa owa

no. find her as owa owa as you want.

aight I'm guessing the order of your favs in batfam:

1. tim

2. Steph

3. dick

4. Duke

5. the rest

you’re wrong but it’s cute that you tried, i generally don’t have favourites, but i have a special place in my heart for steph, tim, dick and cass. bc they were like my introduction to batfam. but damian, jason, duke, bruce, babs and alfred are NOT FORGOTTEN OR UNLOVED

oh my god i was literally just readily willing to believe that italians werent white ty for clarifying it was a joke im so dumb sdkvjskdfs

i mean some italians aren’t white? italian is a nationality as well as an ethnicity, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

since I saw so many people doing headcanons about the nationalities of batboys, I see Dick as an Italian.

dont know if youre serious or not, but sure.

super random but

jason 🤝 damian

old english

lmao fair enough.

tim absolutely has 1 gay uncle and his parents shit talk said uncle all the time so after bruce adopts him he specifically reaches out to this uncle to be like "heyyyy just so you know you majorly influenced my life yes i know i havent seen you since i was 5 and at the family reunion yes i know you dont remember my name idc thank you im gay too" and then they never talk again.

yuppp lmao that’s definitely something that could happen. i can also consider tim having no family members, like none. until he does like a dna test and he realises he has like an aunt living barely 2 miles away from him who’s like some illegitimate child of his grandpa.

I dare you one of them sends clark superman/clark fic and clark corrects the shit out of it and then goes like ps his dick is not that big, just telling as someone who has seen it. internet either explodes or goes who tf did he not fuck at this point.

i think everybody would call clark a buzzkill and try to cancel him over that.

so you're telling me Tim Drake wouldn't buy Starbucks?

no. dunkin donuts all the way

One of my favorite things is imagining people finding out jason came back from the dead and being like "oh no does he have magic powers now?!?!?" and he just pulls out a gun and tries to shoot joker

now he doesn’t even have the gun :) lmao

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

bruce gets codename ‘ugh’ everytime. he hates it.

crazy that tim being a 17 y/o ceo and a stoner who does brand deals are all actual canon things written in detective comics comics and not made up for shits and giggles by you, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb @rowdeyclown

SO CRAZY HUH?

batman au where everything is the same but his utility belt is bright pink

absolutely, but i raise you, his boots light up like sketchers when he kicks people.

unbeknownst to the superhero fandom writers in the dcuniverse, clark and BRUCE are one of the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag on ao3. clark writes the best lois x superman angst, full of unhappy endings and scenes that are a so detailed you'd think you were in the middle of a superhero beatdown. bruce made an ao3 account to fuel "the do the butts match" thing, and makes batman/bruce fics from time to time. he wrote a superbat fic as a joke but ended up making it REAL porny. @concrastinator

dude they’re WAY too busy for that. Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan on the other hand are the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag writing what is Mostly porn.

When the dining table topic gets to politics, Steph says "eat the rich" as the solution

bruce just silently takes away her fork and knife while she’s talking.

#literally if you got through this i just respect you #this is mainly just for the people who sent me an ask in the past few mask #i hope your ask is in here :)#sorry for everybody else #ask #bataranswers #this took me 4 hours to do so i hope youre happy #also sidenote #does anybody know the latin translation for 'to become'#bc i just used future of 'esse' but it could be a different verb #who cares tho latin is a dead language #big congratulations to everyone who translates my sentence #here's a bonus sentence: tuam matrem futueram

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years ago

Text

Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere.

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest.

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone.

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat.

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer.

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear.

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone.

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,”

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner.

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it.

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips.

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?”

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect.

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim.

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored.

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since?

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny.

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes.

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest.

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,”

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it.

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious.

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset.

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before.

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear.

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued.

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts.

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function.

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this.

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone.

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart.

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word.

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?”

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly.

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning.

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted.

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained.

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.”

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay.

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again.

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind.

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words.

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor.

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare

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mimosaeyes · 4 years ago

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If things don’t work out and he loses Jon tomorrow, Martin wants to remember him happy.

Post-199. Jon and Martin reflect on what has and could have been. 1.4k

Thanks @emberidzae and @distortion-noodles for the quick beta!

As they emerge into the hallway, Georgie pokes her head out of what must be her and Melanie’s bedroom. “Blankets and such are down that way,” she says, pointing. “Help yourself, yeah?”

If Martin weren’t observing Jon so closely, he might have missed the way he jumps at the words. Jon recovers swiftly, though. “Right. Thanks, Georgie.”

Martin hasn’t yet closed the door behind them. He leans back into the room to relay the information to Basira, only to find her already nodding and waving him off without looking up. “I heard her.”

She’s leaning against the table they’d all stood around while arguing about the plan. In her hands are two flat metal discs on a chain. It takes Martin a moment to place where he’d last seen them: hanging around Daisy’s neck.

He was slipping too far into the Lonely at the time to really pay attention, but Martin did notice that the dog tags disappeared after Daisy swore to resist the Hunt. He’s always assumed she got rid of them, destroyed them in a bid to purge the memory of her work for Section 31 — and the less than legal things she did besides.

“Found them while tracking her,” Basira explains, clearly guessing his train of thought. “She stopped wearing them, but she still carried them around. As a reminder, you know? Until…”

Until she gave in to the Entity calling her name. Until she left her humanity behind to protect her friends.

Martin swallows past a sudden lump in his throat. “If you need to talk, Basira—”

“I’m good,” she cuts him off. “I’m managing.”

He knows it’s the truth; they’d had plenty of time to catch up at the base of the cliff while Jon was recording. So he nods and leaves it at that, saying only, “Come find us anyway, if you change your mind.”

Her expression softens even as her voice takes on a wry edge. “Go on,” she chivvies, “go be soppy with your boyfriend somewhere else.”

“Somewhere far away from you, you mean?”

Basira snaps her fingers. “Got it in one. Always knew you were the smart one.”

The bedding Georgie mentioned turns out to be a huge pile of unrolled sleeping bags and unfolded blankets. The sight is amusingly incongruous for the three seconds it takes Martin to realise that these used to belong to the cult members, who have since been dragged back to their domains.

Gingerly, he steps forward to take what they need. Jon helps, his face stony.

They duck into the first empty room they come across and lay down enough padding to save their backs from the hard floor. Martin fusses with the makeshift bed while Jon stands and starts pacing.

Everything in Martin is saying to go to him and wrap him up in another hug, make up for the one Jon had pulled out of while his hands were still shaking and his cheeks still wet with tears. But he watches the tense lines of his body and thinks that Jon would only flinch away from comfort if he offered it again. So he sits down, leaving some space for Jon to join him when he’s ready, and waits.

It takes several minutes for Jon to look up at him. When he does, he bites his lip and says, “I’m sorry. It’s already been decided, I know, and I’m sick of rehashing the same old arguments with you.”

Martin lets out a short exhale. “I know. If the plan doesn’t work — I don’t want to spend our last hours together fighting.”

Jon blanches a little. “Hours,” he repeats softly, starting to shake his head. “I wish we had more time.”

“You don’t mean, uh… put it off, do you?” Martin doesn’t think he does, but it’s worth clarifying.

“What? Oh, no. Of course not.”

The huff of laughter that accompanies Jon’s words is gratifying. Martin decides to lean into it. “Because that would be a truly record-breaking act of procrastination,” he points out.

Jon smiles lopsidedly. “Speak for yourself. You haven’t seen me try to start writing an essay in university.”

“Fair enough,” Martin concedes, smiling back at him.

After a moment, Jon sobers again. “I mean, maybe we wouldn’t have been together, if not for all this, but — if I had to do it all over again, I think I’d waste less time. I’d… I don’t know, I’d tell you I’d missed you while I was abroad. Maybe admit that there were a couple of times when I didn’t really need your help looking something up, but called you anyway, so I could hear your voice.”

Martin blinks, momentarily surprised. Then he crows, “I knew it! I knew there wasn’t really a place called Desert Bluffs. I looked for mentions of it in statements for days, and the whole time you were — ha, you were bluffing.”

Good-naturedly, Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m terrible at coming up with fake names on the spot.”

“But that would mean…” Martin furrows his brow at Jon. “That was when you were in America. And you already…”

Jon has been gradually closing the distance between them as they’ve talked. Now he eases himself down next to Martin, as always favouring the leg Sasha had once dug a worm out of with a corkscrew, and says simply, “Yes. I already knew I loved you. Maybe I wasn’t in love with you, not yet, but… yes.”

Martin will never get used to hearing Jon say he loves him. He knows he does, and it still takes his breath away every time. But right now, with a handful of hours until the morning, it makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his chest.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I wish we’d gotten our act together sooner.”

Beside him, Jon pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping one arm around his legs and extending his other hand in Martin’s direction. Martin holds onto his hand, and they stay like that for a spell.

They’ve made an unspoken compact to not only avoid fighting on this last night, but also to keep things light. They’ve had so few wholly good days together, Martin reflects. If things don’t work out and he loses Jon tomorrow, he wants to remember him happy. He wants to make the time they have count.

He nudges Jon, letting his voice grow teasing again. “Hey. If I got to do it all over again, I’d ask you out on a kayaking date.”

“That’s... pretty specific,” Jon remarks.

“Tim gave me the idea. Early, early on, when he would make fun of me for having a crush on the boss. I’d bring you some tea and come back to my desk to find he’d texted me a link to a nearby kayak rental service. It was a different one each time, too.”

“You have to admire the commitment.” Jon pauses. “Can two people even fit in the same kayak?”

“I thought of that. There are tandem kayaks. I was going to win you over with my superior rowing skills.”

Jon laughs. “I think it would’ve worked.”

From just outside the door comes a rustling noise. Basira, probably, holding an armful of sleeping bag and looking for a place to bed down for the night.

After she goes past, Jon says ruefully, “We should probably get some rest.”

He looks about as tired as Martin feels. But everything now seems tinged with an air of finality. If they go to sleep, it might be the last time they curl up together. And it’ll make the morning come sooner.

It’s irrational, but he blurts out, “Not yet. I… I’m not ready.”

To say goodnight. To say goodbye.

Jon cants his head at him, and Martin wonders how transparent his thoughts are, playing across his features.

“Me neither,” Jon murmurs. He leans in closer and presses a kiss to Martin’s forehead. “Me neither.”

They stay up and talk, facing each other in bed. Neither of them has ever had a sleepover at a friend’s place, they discover, and yet this feels like that. Jon tells him about the lake he and Basira traversed, making it sound absolutely dreadful without Martin there to help with rowing. Martin starts describing Life of Pi and other movies Jon may never get to watch. Several times, he asks if Jon is sleeping with his eyes open, then laughs as he denies it.

In the end, Martin doesn’t even remember falling asleep — only that Jon is there with him, and that’s almost enough.

[also available on AO3 here]

[my TMA fic on AO3]

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #mimofic #basira hussain #daisy | alice tonner

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stilesgivesmefeels · 4 years ago

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@firstdegreefangirl I am totally hooked on Chenford now! I have watched the entirety of Seasons 1-2 and the start of Season 3. I am now rewatching season 1. And I’ve binged on fics!

And there are so many fic ideas that I want to see for Lucy and Tim now.

Like Lucy’s birthday: She’s been Tim’s rookie for almost a year and we haven’t seen her birthday. So I am just imagining the angst potential. Maybe her birthday was right at the beginning of being a rookie so she obviously didn’t have a party or anything because they were all studying and working their asses off. Perhaps then Nolan’s end of season 2 total fuck-up derailed the next plans to celebrate. So Lucy has had two birthdays (turned 28 at the beginning and then turned 29) without really doing anything and now she is about to be 30! But at this point she doesn’t want to celebrate. She’s turning 30 and single and spends all of her time at work. And, also? It kind of seems like everyone has totally forgotten that Lucy is even a person who has birthdays.

Angela’s birthday? Drinks at the bar with Wesley and the crew.

Nolan’s birthday? Dinner party at his house with everyone.

Jackson’s birthday? Private party at a restaurant that Sterling rented out.

Tim’s birthday? Dodger’s game with hotdogs and beer.

Sgt. Grey’s birthday? Family and LAPD picnic.

Even Harper had a birthday drink with everyone.

But Lucy? Nothing for two years. She debates about whether to say anything to anyone for her 30th. Ultimately she decides that what she wants is to be with her friends even if they don’t know the real occasion. She plans a dinner at a restaurant and makes up an excuse of having won a contest for a free dinner to get them all there. It’s not technically on her birthday, rather it’s the night before because they have the next day (her actual birthday) off.

But then Angela is due ANY MINUTE NOW and put on bedrest so she and Wesley are out. Henry, Abigail, and Abigail’s parents are coming into town so Nolan is going to miss the dinner in order to meet his son’s future in-laws for the first time. Jackson, Harper, and Sgt, Grey have a case that goes belly-up and they will probably be working all night.

She loves them all and will miss them. But the most important to be there was Tim. They’ve been...flirty? At least it feels flirty to her? She thinks so. The thought of having dinner in a fancy restaurant jut her and Tim? The butterflies!

And then Rachel comes into town for a conference. And she calls Tim to meet up but only has that night free. WHO AGREES TO GO instead of Lucy’s “fancy free dinner.” But we can’t be mad at Rachel! Because she made plans to have an early breakfast with Lucy on her birthday before her conference. She and Tim have talked but haven’t visited. And they both needs some closure. She didn’t know that Tim was missing out on Lucy’s birthday dinner plans.

But Tim didn’t know that everyone else had already cancelled. He didn’t think it would be a big deal and even thought that he’d maybe meet up with them all for dessert or drinks later. He sends her a text to say that he’ll meet up late.

Tim, buddy. Seriously. Think this through. Your thoughts are still about meeting up with Lucy even after having dinner with your ex who you loved??? What does that tell you, my friend?

Anyway...back to Lucy. Sitting at the table (which was switched from her original reservation for a large group to an intimate table for two.). Alone. And watching the condensation on her water glass drip down as the minutes pass. And then gets a text that he’ll be late. So she waits. And waits. Not realizing that late means...not coming. And as the time passes she starts to get more and more nervous, feeling exposed alone in public still gets to her. And her emotions are heightened to begin with.

Meanwhile, Tim and Rachel meet up to talk. To have face-to-face closure goodbyes. And Tim is realizing that it really is closure. He’ll always appreciate the time that they spent together but he doesn’t have the same tug on his heart anymore. As they are saying goodnight (good-bye), Rachel makes a comment on Lucy’s birthday and how she can’t believe that Lucy agreed to get up early on her 30th birthday.

Tim’s face drops. Her birthday??? He had no fucking clue. Jesus. What a total fuck-up. Lucy is his rookie. HIS rookie even if she is a full-fledged officer and has been for almost a year. His friend. His...flirty-partner?

He’s so fucking mad at himself. He tries calling her but it goes straight to voicemail. Lucy didn’t want to sit and see the blank screen of her phone any longer. Even though she never never NEVER turns off her phone ever since being kidnapped. And even before then part of Officer Bradford’s rules were yo are always reachable. But now? She just can’t do it. She needs time to herself to nurse her heartbreak.

Tim is furious at himself and now he’s also a little scared. But forcing himself to stay calm as he drives (speeds) to the restaurant. He calls Angela on the way and that’s when he learns that she was put on emergency bedrest so she and Wesley aren’t there. Calls Jackson who is at the station doing paperwork for their case they just closed. He’s confused. He thought that Lucy was going to totally reschedule since Tim was going to be the only one there. Lucy had maybe led Jackson to thinking that so he wouldn’t find out about her crush on Tim. Jackson knows that Nolan also had to cancel.

Tim arrives at the restaurant in what is most definitely NOT a panic. He’s just outwardly and actively concerned. When he gets to the restaurant the hostess is not impressed. She watched that poor woman (our dear Lucy) sit and wait at that table alone. ALONE. She left alone as well. Tim is fucking pissed (again mostly at himself but that’s how he shows his outward concern). So where the fuck is Lucy?

He’s tries her apartment next. No one answers the door so he helpfully lets himself in (picks the lock; Jackson and Lucy need to really work on their security for fuck’s sake).

No Lucy at the apartment either. WHERE THE FUCK IS LUCY?

In the meantime, Lucy is getting ready to drown her sorrows with ice cream and dog cuddles. Tim gave her a key and the alarm code to be able to spend time with Kojo. (Uh-huh, sure. The dog. That’s why. Whatever you need to tell yourself, Tim.). What Lucy doesn’t know is that Tim’s alarm system alerts him to every time her code is used. He absolutely knows every time she goes to spend time with Kojo. He kinda likes knowing that she feels so comfortable at his house. (Clues, Tim. So many clues to your feelings.)

He rushes over to his house and find her in the backyard with Kojo at her feet and a pint of ice cream on the table. She’s so embarrassed when he shows up and tries to leave thinking that Tim must be there with Rachel. She’s absolutely kicking herself for showing up at Tim’s when he had a date.

Tim is feeling the biggest sense of relief. This is where he and Lucy should have been all along.

Cue confessions. And kisses. And sexy times.

And the following year? Big dinner party to celebrate Lucy’s birthday. And her engagement.

Other fics that should exist:

Angela’s wedding! Everyone has a date for the wedding except for Lucy and Tim. Lucy’s feeling all right about it thought because she has a plan. A plan to ask Tim to be her date. Except when she works up the nerve to ask him while they are in the shop one day, Tim says that he already has a date.

Readers? Tim does not have a date. But he worries that he’s getting too close to Lucy. That she’s not enough of his Boot and more like...a friend that he wants to kiss? It’s very difficult for him. So he makes a snap decision to be More Professional.

But then Lucy starts talking about dating again. The firefighter didn’t work out. But she’s talking about dating apps? He hates this.

He hates it even more when she starts going out on a date. Every. Single. Night. Every night after shift and every night on their days off, Lucy has a date with a different guy.

And it’s driving him fucking crazy,

But Lucy is determined to find a date for Angela’s wedding. She cannot be the only single one there.

Just imagine the tension in their shop for the three weeks leading up to the wedding. Lucy talking about her dates constantly. Definitely overcompensating for the fact that she asked Tim to be her date and he said no. So if she stops talking about her new-found dating then she will have to think about the object mortification and humiliation of Tim turning her down.

OMG SHE WANTS TO DIE OF SHAME JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

So she talks about her dates. And maybe makes up a few of them.

Tim is totally miserable. He hates hearing about her dates. But also he cannot let her stop talking to him about these dates. Because what if something goes wrong? What if she needs him and he stops her from telling him? He just has to sit there and be miserable.

A misery of his own making. Because Lucy asked him out for a date for Angela’s wedding. Which is three days BEFORE her tenure as rookie is over. And he can’t date his rookie. And he wants to date Lucy. If he goes on a date with her, it won’t be platonic. Instead of telling her all this, he blurted out a “no” and she shut down.

And then the wedding arrives. Turns out none of Lucy’s dates were plus-one worthy. And Tim never even tried to get a date even though he told her he had one.

He’s doing okay with maintaining distance until one of Angela’s brothers starts hitting on Lucy right in front of him.

(Angela maybe ~m a y b e~ said something about Lucy to one of her brother’s who is a total flirt and never serious. Perfect for making a certain best friend of hers jealous. She knows what’s good for him.)

Tim cuts in on a dance with Lucy.

It’s slow and sweet and sexy. BUT STILL THREE DAYS BEFORE SHE IS NO LONGER HIS ROOKIE.

He still leaves alone at the end of the night. But not before a promise to her. A promise that in three days HE is going to be the one to ask her a question. A date question.

Lucy can’t wait.

Oh! Another idea:

What if Isabel comes back and decides that she wants Tim back? She’s been sober for a year and it’s time.

Just as Lucy and Tim were maybe becoming Lucy-and-Tim.

She’s seen how Tim is about Isabel. She knows that she can’t compete with that.

Tim, of course, uses this time to realize how serious he is about Lucy and that things are truly over, for good, with Isabel.

The Obvious Fic Idea:

Rosalind has more than one protege and they are clearly after Lucy.

Enter the Protector Tim. And having to stay at her place. And that couch just doesn’t look comfortable. Soooooooo....

And I have more fic ideas I want to see. So thanks for the new ship! I love imagining these scenarios.

#chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #not fic

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movedto-erodasghosts · 4 years ago

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the moment | timothée chalamet

moved blogs - @erodasghosts

practically a spinoff thing for perfidy by @peeterparkr and reading perfidy would help make this better. To read as a stand alone fic, just picture “Tom” as someone y/n used to like but he hurt her.

Description: where we get to see a little bit of y/n’s relationship with timmy

Word count: ~4,600

Warnings: none

A/N: the rain part is heavily inspired by chapter 8 of perfidy where y/n describes when she knew she loved timmy. Also heavily inspired by Nancy’s moodboard of dates with Timmy. I loved writing this so much, I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

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“Okay, okay,” you rested your hands on the table, “tell the story again?”

Timmy let out a soft chuckle, “Really? Didn’t you save the video?”

“I just… need to hear you say it in person.” You smiled widely, “It’s too cute.”

He couldn’t help but smile with you. Something told him you just wanted to hear the story again just to tease him, no harm to come of it though. He couldn’t blame you, he had even teased himself about it and found it rather silly.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “So, I found this toad the other day, right? And it was missing a leg. So… I watched it for a bit before going back inside and going to bed.”

Timmy was a dramatic story teller, it was rather entertaining. The theatrics of it didn’t always come from the words he used to describe stories but the amount of time he spent telling it. To end it short would only leave people with questions. To draw it out longer would give people more to consider. He made stories last regardless, giving people opportunities for questions and any random thoughts. It seemed to be a way of letting everyone feel more involved so it wasn’t so one sided. He didn’t like to focus on himself too much, he was much too interested in everyone else.

“Oh, that’s it?” You raised a brow, “ It didn’t happen to be two in the morning? And you didn’t happen to cry because the toad was missing a leg?”

“Well,” Timmy pursed his lips as if to consider your words, “now that you mention it… I might’ve been a little tired when I found it, and possibly a small bit upset when I found it was missing a leg.”

“Small bit? Tim, you cried.” You brushed some hair behind your ear, “Like, actually cried. I saved the video!”

Quickly, you pulled out your phone to watch the video of a teary eyed Timotheé. Everything about the video was chaotic, it only made the story better.

“Okay, I— this is so bright— I just found this toad,” he held it to the camera, “I was like, ‘Oh! Neat! A little toad!’ But then, then I picked it up and…” He nearly choked on his words, the camera moving sloppily and never focusing on just one thing. “It only has three legs! Y/n, y/n it only has three legs. Are you seeing this?” He held it to the camera again, “Imagine how much harder traveling must be for him. The poor thing.”

“Do we have to finish watching this?” Timmy was grinning boyishly, “I mean, you’ve already seen it and I lived it.”

You gently hushed him before looking back to your phone screen, “Shh, shh, it’s getting to the best part.”

He gave a melodramatic frown to the toad before looking at the camera again, “I just, hmph… I had to show him to you, I love him so much. Okay, say goodbye to him, wish him the best.” He stroked it with his thumb, showing the camera one last time before setting it down and waving goodbye. “I know you’ll live a good life. I’ll miss you, visit anytime.” The camera turned back to Timmy who now had tears swelling, “Can you believe it? Such a darling boy… I hope he gets to be happy.” With a sniffle, he dried his eyes. “Okay, that’s all… you just had to see him. I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m crying…” he laughed and shook his head. “I hope he lives a happy life… well, goodnight… or morning?”

The video ended with Timmy lazily struggling to stop the recording, his eyes red and his hair a complete mess. You couldn’t help but hold the biggest smile and he did his best to hide behind his curls. His fingers curled into his palm, resting his hand on his chin and elbow on the table. Part of him was slightly embarrassed, only because the video was played in public. He couldn’t care less about the fact that you saw him practically breaking down over a toad, he only cared that strangers heard him breaking down over a toad.

“I think…” you began, “Well, you know how you asked me when I knew I loved you? I think that when I first saw that video… I just, I knew, you know?”

He held back a laugh, “Ah, that’s the moment, hmm?”

“Yes! Absolutely, one thousand times yes! It was just mind blowing,” you exaggerated with your hands. “I had never seen you like that before and, honestly, it just really pushed me to my realization.”

“It’s fair, really. I mean, had you sent a similar video I have no doubts that it would be the moment I knew I loved you.” He took a sip of his tea, keeping his eyes on you.

Timmy was playing along with your game, it was back and forth teasing. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, when had you fallen in love with him? He had asked before but you seemed to avoid the question and he didn’t push. Maybe you hadn’t yet, and that was okay. It did make him worry no matter how much he reminded himself it wasn’t like you would fall in love in the exact same moment as if your lives were a book. But still, at times his mind would wander.

“When was it?” He licked his lips and placed his cup back down.

“Hmm?” You fiddled with your pastry, avoiding eye contact.

He rephrased, “When was it you actually fell in love with me?”

Crumbs fell to your plate, it gave you something else to look at rather than him. He never intended to make you nervous, so he soon regretted ever asking. The thing was, there didn’t seem to be a defining moment yet. There were so many things about Timmy that made you stop and think about how amazing of a person he is. From his gentle words to his grand gestures. You could say that to him, but it didn’t sound real. If you were going to answer him you wanted it to be something more concrete.

Part of him craved an answer. He wanted you to take your time, for your relationship to take its time too. And Timmy wasn’t someone that needed constant validation but he couldn’t help himself at times. He knew you cared for him, that’s what mattered most. Really, he wasn’t sure why he was so insistent about knowing. Well, maybe…

He tried his hardest not to be the jealous type, and normally he wasn’t. He trusted you and the two of you were always able to openly talk about things, but… something about your relationship with Tom made him second guess himself. He couldn’t even figure out why, other than it was painfully obvious that Tom liked you and you couldn’t even see it. The issue was, Timmy knew that the “enemies” thing was an act, even if it was just one sided. He knew that you didn’t like Tom, at least not anymore, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you did.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “You don’t have to answer that.”

You awkwardly kept your eyes on the crumbs now scattered around your plate. If only he knew, and if only you could tell him.

“If you keep doing that you’ll hardly have any left.” He smoothly took the pastry from your hands and bit into it. “Hmm, it’s delicious.”

Letting out a small laugh you straighten your posture, “You’ve got a little filling on you.”

“Oh?” He sat it back on your plate, “Could you get it for me?”

You nodded, sitting on the edge of your chair to get closer. Slowly, you reached across and lightly wiped the filling off with your thumb. Timmy’s smile never seemed to fade away. He was always so warm and gentle, even in the toad video from two in the morning. It was like with him any moment could be put on pause to just sit back and admire it for what it was. With him it was like you could breathe. Like, even if it was temporary, the air around him wasn’t so stuffy and thick, but it was clear.

Your hand seemed to linger, not that he minded. He simply took your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to your palm before resting both of your hands on the table. His thumb faintly skimmed over your knuckles as he watched the wheels turning your head.

He tilted his head slightly, “Something on your mind?”

“I always have something on my mind, you know.” You timidly pulled your hand away to put your phone back in your bag, “We should probably get going so we can beat the rain.”

Tim cleared his throat and began gathering his things. “I wouldn’t mind getting stuck in it, sometimes the rain is nice to just step into.”

His words brought another tender smile to your face. Most people would be canceling the day’s plans because of a chance of rain later that evening, Timmy just pushed through and even hoped the rain may come earlier than planned. You liked the rain too and didn’t mind going out in it from time to time, it was relaxing in ways.

“I’d rather be home when it starts, I think.” You held his hand as you both started your way home.

He nodded, “I can understand that. But, would it be so bad if it started before then? It would be like a movie scene.”

The thought made you grin, he was right. One of the biggest clichés in the book and you nearly forgot. Part of you longed for a movie moment like that, you had them all the time with Timmy though. It was nice, you wouldn’t lie. At the same time, a huge part of you just wanted to smoothly make it home, no movie moment.

“I guess that part of it would be sweet. Almost like a frozen moment in time.” You moved closer to him, “I’d take any chance to be frozen in time with you.”

His lips curled into a smile at your cheesy words before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Maybe we’ll get the chance again.”

“Hmm, I wish. I’m not exactly dressed for a downpour though, especially not with my camera out,” you held it up.

Timmy took a quick glance, you were right. Your sneakers would be soaked within moments and your jacket wouldn’t keep you warm for long. Timmy wasn’t dressed much better though, having on sneakers as well, and jeans that would easily stick to him when wet. He could stand it though, it wasn’t a bother, and he would gladly help to keep you warm with his own body heat.

He recalled that you loved walks in the rain, no matter how soaking wet you may get. But lately something was off, he could tell. He kept brushing it off, chalking it up to overthinking. Of course you didn’t want to get caught in the rain that day, it would be freezing and your camera could get ruined. Normally, though, you still wouldn’t mind. It was like you were running from something.

“We can put the camera in your purse, it should help keep it dry. As for the rest, well,” he let your hand go before wrapping an arm around your waist, “I’ll help keep you warm as we make our way home.”

You chuckled, leaning into his side. “In that case, I look forward to the rain,” you half joked.

“See?” He smiled, “Simple solutions. I’m glad to be of assistance.”

Once again, he let go of you to give a dramatic bow. You laughed, watching as his hair fell in front of his face. He even tucked one foot behind the other, adding to the drama of it. He did what he could to make the relationship feel the same, to help you find the beauty in small moments like that again rather than pain.

“Ah, thank you for your kindness,” you gently bowed back towards him.

“Of course, of course. Anytime, you know.” He took your hand in his, gently swinging it as you continued the walk.

You walked in silence for a few moments, just taking in the busy sounds from around you. There were fewer people out that day, due to the expected rain, which gave plenty of new picture opportunities. You loved pictures full of life, whether it was crowds of people or a field of flowers. But, you loved pictures that seemed empty, or even more serene in a way, too. Overall, you just enjoyed taking pictures of life. From the most crazy and crowded moments to the most calm and seemingly boring moments.

“Let’s get a picture here really quick?” You stopped at a shop window, gently tugging Timmy’s sleeve to get his attention.

He stepped back and stood beside you, “Of course, it’s a nice opportunity.”

You held the camera up, ready for the picture. Timmy put one hand in his pocket, the other rested on the small of your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, freezing there for a moment as you took the picture. Instinctively his eyes shut too, allowing him to easily slip into his thoughts for a moment.

He loved that you took pictures of moments like this, he knew it meant a lot to you. To be able to hold a memory in such a way was incredible and it helped to better remember. It wasn’t just a picture, it was a memory. Even if it was only a memory of going for tea that morning, it was a memory. One he knew that you’d both find yourselves dwelling on.

You both seemed to find such pleasure in the smallest of things. The rain, tea, toads, anything. Unlike Tom, who seemed to have to make everything into some huge attention grabber for it to be even slightly memorable. Timmy couldn’t stand that, it was like it was a show for everyone else. Timmy didn’t need to prove to anyone that he loved you with grand schemes, what mattered to him was the little things that you shared between the two of you.

“Alright, got it,” you smiled.

His eyes opened back up, snapping himself out of his mind. “You’ve gotten a lot of good pictures today.”

“With most of them having you as the subject, I’d agree,” you grinned up at him.

“It’s your talent with photography that makes them so good,” he chuckled.

“Maybe, but you definitely add to it’s perfection.” You kissed his cheek, “Even if I know you cried about a frog at two in the morning.”

“A toad,” he corrected. “And what kind of monster wouldn’t cry about a toad at two in the morning?”

“It’s just a toad,” you began walking again with a small smile on your lips.

“Just a toad?” He joined your side again, “I don’t think so! He was special, not just like any other toad.”

You teased, “You’re actually defending a toad?”

“Maybe I am. You were attacking him.” He played along, lightly nudging your shoulder.

Your hands went into the air in a mock defense, “My greatest apologies for attacking him. I hope I didn’t offend too greatly?”

“Hmm,” he raised a brow and stroked his chin as if he was deeply thinking. “No, nothing you can’t make up for.”

“Make up for? In what way?” You were already grinning as you looked up at him.

His arm made its way back around your waist, his fingers landing on your hip. Your pace slowed a bit, only slightly, as you synced your steps.

“Dance with me when it rains,” he said simply. “It would make up for it a thousand times over.”

You chuckled, “I’d dance with you anytime, Tim.”

He inhaled, holding his breath for a moment before saying, “I know, but I’ll take every chance I get.”

“I would too, plus it’s a simple enough way to pay you back for the frog insult.”

“Toad.”

“Right,” you laughed, “toad.”

He hoped it would rain. Before he simply looked forward to the rain because he was expecting it anyway, now he was waiting for the rain as if he relied on it. He needed the chance to be with you closer, longer. He needed a reason for the day to be memorable for more than just tea. Timmy knew you’d adore that day for the rest of time, even if it ended in this very moment, but it was like he needed to be sure of it.

Lord, he was becoming Tom. Couldn’t the day be lovable enough as it was? It already was. There wasn’t a moment through the day with you where he didn’t seem to have butterflies in his stomach, other than moments like this where he couldn't help but think of Tom.

No. No more Tom. Timmy was still far from Tom. His gestures, like wanting to dance in the rain, was for just the two of you, not anyone else. Tom needed everyone else’s approval, Timmy was only focused about the happiness between the two of you.

“Guess you should get ready to dance,” you spoke up, quickly tucking your camera into your purse.

Timmy glanced at your movements before looking up to the sky, seeing how dark it had suddenly gotten. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw the rain approaching.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he held both of your hands and pulled you to a wider section of sidewalk.

He wasted no time, beginning to dance with you the moment a raindrop fell. You wouldn’t deny it, even though you were previously dreading the coming rain you were happy it was there now. You had forgotten how much you missed it. You missed that moment in time where it was truly like nothing else mattered. It was just you and Timmy, frozen in your own movie moment.

It was clear that the wheels in his head were finally taking a pause, he too was just enjoying that moment. Normally, Timmy wasn’t one to get lost in his thoughts so frequently. He spoke openly, sharing his thoughts so he could talk through them with someone. You understood, even admired it, but there was a part of you that wanted to hold certain things to yourself. There were some things you wanted to process on your own before even thinking about sharing with anyone else, and there were other things that you just wanted to ignore forever. Timmy knew this and he never wanted to make you feel pressured to talk but he just couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to share, to just talk through your pain and memories. But, he respected it.

You wanted to share, truly, but you weren’t even sure where to begin, and, you didn’t even know if you actually could bring yourself to talk. Timmy swore that there were things between you and Tom that were unsettled that you needed to talk about, and maybe he was right, but you couldn’t see it. You felt like you were stuck in a spot that had no way out. It felt like you had no words to share, and, while no one was trying to make you feel that way, you felt pressured to talk. It felt like Timmy deserved more. Like he should have an explanation, like he should get to know his moment, the one where you knew you loved him.

You had no answers to offer anyone though, not even yourself. You didn’t know why people were expecting you to explain so much. Why did people need you to explain why you never liked Tom? Why it didn’t matter if Tom ever liked you or still did-- though you would assure people he didn’t-- because you were over him. Or were you even over that?

Tom was cruel. He was careless, inconsiderate. And, sure, you had a crush on him for a while, but that’s all it was. That’s all it could be. He hurt you, how could you possibly still like him? And, you loved Timmy so none of that even mattered anymore.

Timmy.

You knew you loved him, with or without that defining moment. Maybe this could be it. The rain, his fingers intertwined with yours as you danced and laughed. No, this wasn’t it. It couldn’t be, not when you had let your mind wander so far. So much for staying frozen in the moment.

Still, you danced with him and acted as if you were still focused on only that. His mind may have stopped for a break but it seemed yours had just kept going. He noticed, you were like an open book at times with him. But, you were both deciding to push it aside.

“When was the last time we even got to do this?” You laughed as he dramatically spun you.

He smiled, “Too long, I guess we’ve just been waiting for the rain.”

“I’m glad it’s finally here, even if I’m freezing cold.” You waddled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him and continuing to sway inplace together.

“Hmm,” he rested his chin atop your head and curled his arms around you, “I did say I’d keep you warm.”

You closed your eyes, resting a cheek on his chest and breathing in. The metallic and earthy smell of him brought an instant peace. You could feel and hear his heart beating slowly, calmly. Heat was somehow radiating off of him still, even through his cold and wet clothing. It was nice, just his presence and being was calming and felt nice to be around. It was now that you were really being pulled into the movie moment, your mind now filled with nothing but thoughts of how being around Timmy was like going out after a storm.

It was like walking out, feeling the sun hit your skin as it was slowly beginning to warm everything up again after a downpour. Like inhaling that musty yet sweet smell of the ground as it was soaking up the rain, reclaiming it after it’s fall and working with it to help return to earth. The smell wasn’t just coming from the rain either, it was just how Timmy was, and you couldn’t get enough of it. It was the serenity after the storm that people so rarely talk about.

“Can’t we stay this way forever?” His words were muffled, mixing with the sounds of raindrops seemingly falling harder.

You were still slightly swaying together, earning looks from those rushing by you in a hurry to escape the rain. Neither of you could be bothered by it though, you were in your own world. Admittedly, it probably wasn’t such a good idea to be staying out in the cold rain. The two of you couldn’t care less in the moment, though you’d probably regret it later, because it was like you had only been standing there for a minute, but at the same time it was as if it had been an hour even if it was only about ten minutes.

The rain was coming down harder and harder, preventing you from being able to stay out much longer.

“I think it’s time to stop dancing,” you smiled, looking around for any form of shelter you could find. “Look, that shop has a shade we can use.”

Without hesitation you ran off, ready to get out of the downpour. You hadn’t noticed at first but he hadn’t followed, only a few steps away from where you were both standing just a second before. He was slowly making his way over, not seeming too focused on actually making it though.

“Timmy,” you called out, “what’re you doing? C’mon, it’s too heavy.”

And then you heard, music playing from someone’s balcony. It was gentle and steady, sounding almost like a recording but it was clear that it wasn’t. Timmy’s eyes were locked onto that balcony, right above the shop you were using for coverage. His shoulders were relaxed, his head slightly tilted as he listened. He was too focused on the music to care about how hard the rain was or how cool the air was turning. You were focused on watching him, slightly taken aback by his actions.

“Come see,” he beamed, “it’s so peaceful.”

You were grinning, watching as he smiled ear to ear, being so happy watching them. His gaze went back to them, eyes twinkling in the light shining from their apartment. His curls were dripping, messily scattered about and some sticking to his face. He looked like he was in a state of tranquility, completely free of all the worries he had been dealing with. It was soothing enough on its own just to see him so, it was like he was able to share with you how it made him feel simply through one look.

Taking your camera out, you took a picture of him as he looked up to the balcony, wanting to keep that moment with you forever because that was it. A few weeks ago when Timmy had asked you when you fell in love with him you gave some silly response, too anxious to think about it. He brought it up again earlier that day, and you still couldn’t give an answer. Now the answer was standing right infront of you, finally it was something worthy of sharing, not just something random and laughable.

You put the camera back in your back, quickly joining his side. “It sounds beautiful.”

“Doesn’t it?” He leaned into your shoulder, “The rain just adds to it all.”

“It does,” you agreed, wrapping around his arm. “But, we should go before we get sick.”

Timmy laughed as he slowly pulled himself out of his trance, “That sounds like a good idea.”

With looped arms you began your walk home once more, feeling somewhat more lifted by what had happened. All it took was that one moment, that moment of proof and reassurance. You were reminded of what a kind and gentle person Timmy was, not that you had ever forgotten. He did his best to enjoy life for what it was, cherishing every moment he could no matter how small. You tried your best to do the same but found yourself slipping at times, it was a reminder to enjoy things more. To take that step back and make yourself the main character of a story, even if it was temporary. Timmy helped you to do that.

He loved to see you so relaxed again, free from your mind. You were both too wrapped up in too many what-ifs and were worrying about things that were out of your control. The rain was what you needed, to help pull you back to earth. It was that moment, where he was able to put life on pause and you were able to come back into that serenity.

The awkward tension from the cafe was gone, truly gone, not just shoved aside. Timmy wasn’t craving to know the exact moment you knew you loved him because all that mattered to him was that you did. You didn’t feel like you owe anyone an explanation for anything anymore, whatever you had with Tom was in the past now and you knew Timmy’s moment. It really wasn’t a permanent solution, these feelings, at least the untouched one’s about Tom, would likely arise again. But, at least for that moment, you could go without confronting them.

#perfidy #timothee chalamet #tom holland #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #perfidy inspired #my writing #timotheé chalamet #timotheé chalamet x reader #timmy chalamet #timmy chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timotheé chalamet x you

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the-real-tc · 4 years ago

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Fic UPDATE! Wide River to Cross: Homecoming

Author’s Note: So close. We're so close now, dear readers. Thanks for sticking with me this far; not much longer now. I promise. As you'll see from the events in this chapter, it will be impossible to prolong the agony. (Who remembers the actual agony while watching Season 7, wondering what had happened between Jack and Lisa? I remember that agony...) All that aside, the good part about how long this story has taken me is that plot lines that have occurred down the line can be worked in, and they can make some semblance of sense. I hope. Anyway, here's the latest chapter.

Chapter 22: Homecoming

In the darkness of night, the tree-lined drive seemed eerily foreign to Lisa as the town car bore both her and Rachel to their familial estate. Though it was a view she had seen thousands of times in her life, this particular return to Fairfield granted her no trace of comfort or sense of homecoming. It was bordering on close to ten months that she had been absent—one of the longest spells she had been away since her past marriage to Dan and subsequent move to the USA.

Lisa could not help but recall other lengthy absences from Fairfield, particularly in her adolescence when she had attended boarding school in France with Rachel. While she had enjoyed those times away—thanks to her love of French culture and many outings with her doting Aunt Evelyn—the inevitable homesickness was alleviated only upon return. Now, she felt like a stranger returning to a strange place, creeping in like some interloper.

Like a thief in the night, she thought to herself wryly, fighting the encroaching discomposure without much success.

“We’re here, Rach,” Lisa whispered, giving her younger sibling a gentle nudge.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” Rachel mumbled sleepily. “I didn’t realise I nodded off.”

She smiled slightly, watching as Rachel rubbed bleary eyes before finishing off with a long yawn. Rachel had endured only one flight; Lisa had needed three to return to Alberta. Exhaustion was indeed beginning to overwhelm her, but there was a nervous tension buzzing through her veins, keeping her on an unusual level of alertness. Now that she was back in Hudson, the mere thought of being in the same town as Jack—and potentially encountering him anywhere—set her mind spinning. How would such a meeting play out? What words could pass her lips to express to him all that was in her heart? What words, if any, would he have to say to her?

Security lights illuminated the exteriors of the stables, dispelling the shadows. Night checks would have already been completed by this hour. All was quiet now, though Lisa knew Harry Wilkes would probably still be up in his office, burning the midnight oil while waiting for their arrival.

Good ol’ Harry, Lisa thought with affection. He had been such a constant presence in her life since she was a little girl, working his way up from the very bottom as a stable hand to head groomsman. Matthew Stillman had come to trust the man with just about everything, and Lisa had done the same. Harry was dedicated to the care of the horses in a way that went beyond what was expected of a mere hired hand. Anyone else would have retired from the position by now, but Harry was still logging the same hours as he had during the past forty-five years as a Fairfield employee. He had been there through the lean years and through the successful ones.

Without her realising it, a long pout pulled at Lisa’s face as the car pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. She knew Harry was not thrilled with the idea of her selling Fairfield, even though he was guaranteed a handsome severance package. The rest of the staff might be keen on staying on with new owners; Harry would not—Lisa was certain of that.

“Why the long face?” Rachel asked, looking over at her. “Something wrong?”

“Hmm?” Lisa shook herself. “Oh, no. It’s just that... I-I don’t think Harry is pleased with my decision to sell, that’s all.”

“So Harry’s still working here, eh?” Rachel said, lips quirking into a lop-sided smile. “Dad really lucked out when he hired him. He’s been here since before I was even born. Good ol’ Harry.”

“I honestly don’t think I could have managed without him when Dad got sick,” Lisa mused out loud.

Sure enough, the door to the Fairfield business offices opened to reveal the man in question, silhouetted against the interior lights. He waved jauntily at them, and Lisa intuited he was intent on helping them unload their luggage.

“C’mon,” she said to Rachel as she opened her door. “Let’s get out before he gets the idea we’re going to let him carry everything into the house. He’s been up all night waiting; he’s got to be tired after working all day.”

“Right,” Rachel said in agreement, though she was staving off another yawn of exhaustion.

“Ah, the two prettiest girls in Hudson have made their triumphant return,” Harry greeted them affectionately; paternally.

“Oh, Harry,” Lisa said with a chagrined laugh, “I don’t know about ‘triumphant’, and after travelling all day, we look like something the cat dragged in.”

“Ha! Speak for yourself, sis,” Rachel interjected merrily. “Harry, flattery gets you everywhere. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Rachel.”

The three gathered for a warm group hug. As Lisa guessed moments earlier, the next words out of Harry’s mouth were an offer to bring their luggage inside.

“No, no, you take it easy Harry,” Lisa quickly stated. “You’ve had a long day, too. Rachel and I can manage just fine.”

“Nonsense,” Harry said, reaching for the largest of the pieces the chauffeur had just deposited from the trunk. “Your father would be horrified if he saw me standing by idly while you two dragged all this stuff by yourselves.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead in Hudson, I see,” Rachel quipped, following the older man with her carry-on and a smaller suitcase.

“Thanks, Harry,” Lisa said after everything was sitting in the spacious foyer.

“Happy to do it, Lisa,” Harry said. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah... for however long that’s going to be,” Lisa sighed.

“It’s going to be hard seeing this place go,” Harry uttered with a wistful air. “Fairfield has been a big part of Hudson ever since you made it the success it’s become, Lisa. This town won’t be the same without it—or you.”

Not unkindly, Lisa asked: “Is this your way of trying to talk me out of selling?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. I know an old fella like me who’s on his way to retirement can’t interfere with the business decisions of his boss, but you know this place has always been more than just a ’job’ for me.”

“I know,” Lisa said warmly, reaching out to touch his arm in a show of understanding. “And I thank you for everything you’ve done from the day my father hired you to this present time.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, placing a hand over hers for a few moments. “I should be on my way. See you in the morning.”

“Of course.”

Harry turned to make his exit, but hesitated on the threshold. “There is something...”

Lisa waited expectantly. “What is it?” she asked when he did not continue.

“Hmmph. Nah, it can wait ‘til tomorrow,” he muttered. “Goodnight, ladies.”

“’Bye,” Rachel said, trying to suppress another yawn.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Lisa said, closing the door behind him, slightly perturbed by the man’s cryptic parting words. Whatever it was, she would learn of it the next day.

As cranky as Jack was at the notion of having the woolly creatures on his land, Georgie’s 4H Club project meant sheep at Heartland was good for something. At least the kid could learn about the rearing of an animal she could handle. Lambs weren’t liable to trample you, gore you, buck you off, or kick you in the head. It was decidedly not fun chasing down the specific lamb Georgie and Olivia wanted, especially since they could not agree on which one was the best one for their needs. Jack half-suspected they were changing their fickle minds on purpose, just for the spectacle of his sprawling about in the grass and weeds, grabbing at this lamb or that lamb.

It should have been Tim’s job seeing after the sheep, but he picked that very week to head to Moose Jaw to visit with his son, Shane, so they could spend Thanksgiving together. Why was it his ex-son-in-law continued to be such an irritant and an imposition in his life? If not for Lou and Amy, the man would never again have darkened the door at Heartland.

After Georgie and Olivia finally settled on a lamb and Jack successfully secured it, he decided a little break was necessary. It was no use getting worked up over the flock again; also, the girls did not need his grumpy mood to ruin things for them. It was trial enough for Georgie to be partnered with Olivia, he knew, so he did his best to keep his cool while in their company.

Once inside the kitchen, he brewed a cup of tea and eased into a chair in the living room—the kitchen having been taken over by Peter and his laptop. The man really needed office space of some kind while he was here, Jack mused.

Why Tim felt the need to saddle his son-in-law with the nickname “The General” was beyond Jack, but then again, Tim knew exactly how to push other people’s buttons. The recent fiasco involving Tricia and her near-delinquent daughter, Jade, at the fishing cabin was a fine example of that.

Jack sipped at his tea, trying to resolve in his mind yet again why Tim possessed such an unbridled sense of entitlement. He lacked what Jack’s grandmother would have called social graces. His unsolicited comments could be tactless. The frustrating thing was that such comments were often uncomfortable truths no one else wanted to face or accept.

When Tim had first asked how the Arizona trip had been, Jack recalled initially telling him to mind his own business. Tim, ignoring Jack’s desire for privacy had asked, point-blank:

“You missed Lisa, didn’t you?”

”Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?!” Jack had retorted. “I had a swell time.”

”You’re not fooling me, old man. What did you do with yourself down there the whole time? You couldn’t have been having that much of a ‘swell time’ because you cut it short and came home a week early!”

“I did happen to have some good times, thank you very much!”

“Yeah? Doing what?” Tim had challenged.

“Saddleback trip. Lookin’ at real estate. Meeting nice people. Camping and fishing.”

“Meeting nice people and fishing, eh? Catch anything good down there in Arizona?” Tim asked suggestively.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I hooked a very nice catfish.”

“Oooh! A catfish!” Tim had crooned, pretending to be impressed. “How big was it?”

Knowing he would not be able to lie any further, Jack had groaned in annoyance and decided it was time to cease this line of questioning. “Dunno,” he had sullenly replied. “It pulled free from the hook before I could reel it in. The sun was going down by then. I quit trying after that.”

“Ha!” Tim had laughed triumphantly. “Dinner out of a can that night, right?”

Jack grit his teeth. “No, I forgot to bring a can opener. Are you done, now?”

“You ‘forgot’ to bring a can opener?” Tim crowed in derision. “So why didn’t you just use your knife to open the can, or did you forget to bring a knife, too?”

“Oh, would you just shut up already!”

Jack stalked off and was thus out of earshot when a gleeful, self-righteous Tim muttered, “Ohhh, he totally missed Lisa.”

It was already after 10:00 a.m. when Lisa awoke on Saturday morning. The inevitable jet-lag felt especially pronounced this time around, and she groaned when she realised the lateness of the hour. She so wanted to soak up a few more hours of sleep, but knew work was waiting. There was the matter Harry mentioned the night before which she wanted to get to the bottom of, but the first order of business absolutely had to be contacting the real estate agent.

After a quick shower, she shared a hurried breakfast with Rachel. Her sister was still drowsy and not much in the mood to talk while they ate. When Rachel drifted back to bed for a nap, Lisa finally got on the phone to the realtor, glad they were indeed open that day despite it being a holiday long weekend. After all those months in France of dithering on this, it felt almost anti-climactic the sale would finally be happening. The deed is done, Lisa thought after hanging up. She was not sure what emotions she was experiencing now that Fairfield would officially be on the market.

Ruefully, she thought, I really should call Dan and tell him the ‘good’ news. In all truth, her ex-husband was the last person she wanted to speak to after all their less-than-pleasant email correspondences over the past several months. I wonder what Jack would think if I called him and told him I was back in Hudson? Lisa stopped herself cold. Where did that thought come from?! I would have to explain to him that I’m finally selling the old place and moving to France for good, wouldn’t I? I’d have to come up with some excuse as to why I didn’t even tell him I was coming back.

She stood from behind her desk and decided it was time to check in on Harry, brushing aside any further thoughts of both of her exes.

“Ah, Lisa! Good morning,” Harry greeted Lisa brightly when she knocked on the business office door.

“Good morning, Harry. I just got off the phone with the real estate people. Someone’s going to be by later this week to properly assess the property and get some signs posted and such.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod of understanding.

“Harry, about that thing you mentioned last night...”

“Oh, yes. That,” Harry said, lowering his voice.

Lisa caught his tone, and interpreted he was about to tell her something she would not particularly enjoy hearing. “Well, what is it?”

“It’s Dan,” Harry said in a manner that spoke volumes of disapproval.

“Dan? What’s he done now?” Lisa asked guardedly.

“You’d better follow me,” Harry said, rising from his seat.

He led Lisa out to the stables where they stopped in front of Fairfield Flyer’s stall. The champion racer seemed strong and healthy, and Lisa looked at her head groomsman, awaiting an explanation.

“Dan and some of his people and vets have been here to see Flyer and Rhapsody quite a few times while you were gone,” Harry started. “Since you have joint ownership, of course I couldn’t stop him.”

“Stop him from doing what?” Lisa asked, instantly on edge. Rhapsody was one of her broodmares.

“From getting all kinds of lab work done—and cell samples taken from Flyer.”

“Cell samples...” Lisa mused out loud.

Harry continued. “Rhapsody is already nine months pregnant. You had no idea, did you?” he asked warily as he studied her reaction. “Don’t answer that. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”

Lisa felt her cheeks flush. “I always did have a lousy poker face,” she grumbled.

“Ah, I should have known he didn’t tell you, but you know I’m not the type to interfere,” a contrite Harry said. “And given the nature of what he was doing, I wasn’t sure if you were both keeping it a secret, or what. Sorry, Lisa.”

“Don’t apologize; this isn’t remotely your fault. It seems I have a call to make to my ‘business partner’. Thanks, Harry.”

She strode out of the stables, absolutely steaming, trying to decide how best to have this conversation with Dan. Cell samples? That could only mean one thing, Lisa concluded, coupled with Dan’s recent talk about getting into horse cloning. He was trying to warm me up to the idea, she now realised.

“Where do you get off cloning Fairfield Flyer without even consulting with me first?!” Lisa exploded when she had Dan on the line.

“Now hold on just a minute, Lisa—” Dan tried to interrupt.

“No, you hold on; I’m not finished,” Lisa hissed through clenched teeth. “Harry told me you’ve been out to Fairfield to see Flyer and Rhapsody. This is the real reason you’ve been so demanding about the finances, isn’t it? You weren’t concerned about the Avignon facility—you were paying to have Flyer cloned. How many other horses did you have lined up for the procedure?”

From Dan’s silence, Lisa knew she had hit the nail on the head.

“When were you going to tell me?” Lisa fumed. “When were you going to tell me the Avignon deal was all a sham and that you were really using my investment funds to clone Flyer and God knows how many others?”

“Okay, simmer down,” Dan said, trying to placate her. “Avignon is still a go. But the focus has shifted slightly. It could be the best equine cloning facility in Europe, Lisa. If the clone of Flyer is a success, we’re going to take it to Avignon as the poster boy for the procedure in race horses. We’d be one of the first out of the gate doing this. We could make history, Lisa, because the Racing Association is bound to come around once more people get on board.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Lisa had to keep herself from shouting. “You go behind my back, and-and then try to tell me you’re shifting the focus of the breeding facility we planned in France?”

“All that stuff you learned in that Lexington conference about performance markers is great, Lisa,” Dan said, “but that’s yesterday’s science. Cloning is the future. Do you really want to be left behind?”

Lisa realised she was still too angry to have a rational talk with Dan. “Let’s table that question,” she finally said. “I just got into Hudson late last night, and I’m too tired to deal with this right now. But make no mistake, Dan, I’m not impressed you went behind my back.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Dan said, sounding almost relieved. “Hang on, did you just say you’re back in Hudson?”

Lisa clenched her teeth in irritation. “How else do you think I found out about Flyer?”

“Uhhh—Harry told you, didn’t he?”

“Of course Harry told me,” snapped Lisa, relishing the discomfort she heard in Dan’s voice. He sounded as if he were a guilty schoolboy.

“I see,” Dan said in resignation. “Wait, if you’re in Hudson, does that mean you’ve finally put Fairfield on the market?”

“Yes, Dan, you’ll be happy to know I took care of that chore before calling you,” Lisa replied testily.

“Good! That’s great!” Dan exclaimed. “Finally. Look, Lisa, I get you’re upset about the cloning thing. You’re right; I should have included you in that decision. But Flyer is mine, too. I think in time, you’ll see—”

“Ah, but Rhapsody is mine,” Lisa cut in. “You’re still on shaky ground, Dan. As I said just now, we’ll discuss this later. You’ll be lucky if I don’t decide to involve my lawyer with this one.”

She heard his exhalation of discontent, but she frankly did not care. Misappropriation of funds, she thought. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.

“Come on, Lisa. Are you really going to split hairs like that?” he whined. “Aren’t we business partners in this whole breeding venture?”

It took all the control she could muster not to slam down the phone. Instead, she took a steadying breath before responding. “That didn’t give you the right to use Rhapsody for your cloning experiment without consulting with me first. But what’s done is done. Like I said, I’m not in the mood to discuss this right now. Goodbye.”

Lisa did not wait to hear Dan respond before she hung up the call.

Rachel, having awakened from her nap, was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, flipping through an old edition of the Hudson Times. When Lisa wandered in, Rachel glanced up and said, “Uh-oh. I know that look. Something’s got you mad.”

Lisa groaned. “Ugh. What tipped you off?”

Rachel smirked. “Yeah, see, there’s this vein that always pops out on your forehead whenever you blow a gasket,” she answered, motioning to her own head.

Grumbling, Lisa swiped a self-conscious hand over her face.

“Hey, it’s not like you get mad often, sis,” Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. “It must be something big.”

Lisa plopped down wearily across from Rachel. “It’s Dan,” she began. “He’s gone and tried to clone one of my best racers—Fairfield Flyer—without even asking me, first.”

“Oh, wow. Is that even legal?” Rachel asked, folding the paper and putting it aside. “I’m not up on my horse cloning ethics.”

“It is legal,” Lisa said, “but it’s damned expensive, comes with a pile of risk factors, and the Racing Association has yet to accept clones in sanctioned races.”

“Didn’t I read something a couple years ago about clones being accepted for show jumping in the Olympics?” asked Rachel.

Lisa nodded. “Yes. The Fédération Equestre Internationale did announce clones could be entered for equestrian events. I still don’t know what Dan was thinking, though. Flyer is a racer, not a jumper, or dressage. It’s infuriating. And it’s not even about the ethics when it comes to cloning; it’s that Dan was hounding me for months to get Fairfield sold so we could get going on an operation out of Avignon.”

“Avignon?” repeated Rachel.

“Yes. You know I always wanted to retire to France, eventually.”

“Right...”

“Anyway,” Lisa continued, “I sold my share of the Dude Ranch back to Lou, and assumed those funds were going towards funding that Avignon operation. Obviously, Dan was funnelling all of it to help make the payments for the cloning procedure.” She let out another huff of frustration; Rachel eyed her with pity.

“C’mon, Lisa,” Rachel said after several moments of silence. “In the end, a horse is a horse, and we both know you love horses. When Rhapsody foals, you’re going to love that clone. So forget Dan, and focus on making sure Rhapsody stays healthy through the rest of the pregnancy.”

The words were like a thunderbolt, bringing a much-needed dose of reality. Lisa stared at Rachel for a few moments, speechless. “Are you sure you’re the younger sister, here?” she eventually asked with an affectionate smile and shake of her head. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“Oh, I have my moments,” Rachel answered airily.

“Well, I hope there’s more wisdom where that came from,” Lisa said, “because even though you’re right about loving it when it arrives, I get the feeling that clone is going to become more like a monkey on my back.”

Thanksgiving at Heartland was slightly less crowded than usual owing to the absences of Tim and Lou. Everyone was thankful for Jack’s surviving the heart attack and for Amy’s health and recovery after her recent scare with Zeus; Georgie was thankful in particular for her new family and for Phoenix.

At Fairfield, the celebration was slightly more subdued. Figuring this to be their final Thanksgiving together before the family farm passed into new hands, the Stillman sisters spent much of that holiday Monday* reminiscing about older, happier times, and some not-so-happy times, too.

“I used to love it when Aunt Evelyn would come to visit from wherever she had last been,” Lisa remarked as they sat together in the cozy living room, a roaring fire burning in the hearth.

“Remember her second husband?” Rachel snickered.

“Ah, yes. Uncle Merrill,” Lisa said. “With those massive sideburns we always wished he would shave off.”

“Where did she meet him, again?”

“Wales, I think,” Lisa replied. “But he was from Scotland.”

“He claimed he was some Scottish lord, right?” asked Rachel. “I seem to remember that.”

Lisa nodded seriously. “He apparently had the bank account to prove it, or so Aunt Evelyn told me.”

“Well, she was married to him the longest,” Rachel said.

“That’s true,” Lisa said, taking a sip of cider.

“Until he left her for a newer, younger model,” Rachel said.

“And she took him to the cleaners,” chortled Lisa. “Then promptly found herself another millionaire boyfriend.”

“That one didn’t last very long, did it?”

“Oh, a couple years, maybe? Then she had a few other gentlemen friends whose names I forget. Then she married Charles, the wealthy stockbroker from New York. They met on a cruise ship. Divorced him after five years.”

“Aunt Evelyn is addicted to men and to money,” Rachel said. “And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“Rachel, there is no nice way to call someone a gold digger,” Lisa said, a peal of laughter breaking forth.

“Ha! You said it; not me!”

“All right, Aunt Evelyn may have her... flaws... but she’s always been good to us,” Lisa said sincerely.

“Yeah... you’re right,” Rachel said. “Though you’re her favourite, you know.”

Lisa cocked her head and frowned at her sister, puzzled by this comment. “Naw. She totally spoiled us both. What d’you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing.” Rachel waved a hand dismissively. “I just got the feeling like she doted on you a little more. That’s all.”

“What? Why?”

Rachel stared at her older sister, considering for a few moments how to proceed. She blew out a breath and said, “Okay, remember that horse you had when we were kids? Silver?”

“Yes,” Lisa said, thinking of the dapple grey mare she got as a rescue. She put aside her mug, sensing Rachel was about to say something she had been wanting to say for a long time, but never had the chance to get it off her chest.

“I remember when Silver got sick a few years later,” Rachel said. “Dad didn’t think he could afford to pay for the surgery.”

“That’s right,” Lisa confirmed. “It was colic. Silver was getting old by that point, so Dad didn’t think the risk was worth it.”

“You know, I didn’t even have my own horse at the time, and Aunt Evelyn swooped in and said she’d pay for the surgery,” Rachel said, voice tainted with the slightest stain of bitterness. “You were seven when you got Silver. I remember, because I thought somehow that’s what I would get when I turned seven, too. Funny, isn’t it? We lived on a horse-breeding farm, and I didn’t get my own horse until I was ten.”

“Rachel, it’s a stupid question... did you even really want your own horse?” Lisa asked carefully.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Of course I wanted my own horse,” she said. “What little girl living in Hudson didn’t ‘want’ her own horse?”

“I know, but ‘wanting’ a horse isn’t the same as loving that horse when you finally get it, is it?”

Lisa thought back to when Rachel did receive her own horse the Christmas after she turned ten, a gift from Evelyn. In the beginning, the girl had been ecstatic, but the excitement had waned, and the horse was sometimes neglected.

“No, it isn’t the same thing,” admitted Rachel. “Look, I don’t mean to sound petty. At the time, I was jealous; I admit it. When I was younger, I thought Aunt Evelyn paying for Silver’s surgery when I didn’t even have my own horse meant she loved you more and was ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Lisa said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Like I said, I felt that way when I was younger. I thought having a horse would make me happy the way it seemed to make you happy; like it made other girls around town happy,” Rachel said. “It wasn’t until later I realised I wasn’t actually a horse-crazy girl like everyone else.”

“No, you were more boy-crazy,” Lisa said, a small smile twitching her lips.

“Ohhh, was I ever,” Rachel said, throwing back her head and casting her eyes to the ceiling.

“Do you ever regret leaving home when you did?” Lisa queried. “I mean, do you ever wish you had waited until you were a little more settled? Aunt Evelyn was willing to pay for your post-secondary education anywhere in the world like she did for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I keep saying that the timing was probably wrong,” Rachel said. “But I always come back to Ben. He’s the reason I don’t have regrets about that. I love my son more than my own life, Lisa. If I do regret anything is that his childhood probably wasn’t as happy as it could have been because of my stupid relationship mistakes.”

“Well, from what I can see, he’s grown into a fine young man, Rachel,” Lisa said, thinking of the rough patch Ben went through during Rachel’s train wreck of a divorce. “He’s learned some valuable life lessons and he’s working hard now to achieve his goals.”

“I admit I’m proud of him,” Rachel said with a smile. “I’m sorry again for dumping him on you—”

“Oh, stop!” Lisa put up a hand. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Even though I could have done a better job when he was here, it made me realise raising a child isn’t a cakewalk.”

“No, but it is worth it,” Rachel said. “I look at Ben, and I think at least I did something right in the world.”

“Yeah...” Lisa said softly.

“He did appreciate his time here, Lisa,” Rachel said, getting an inkling of where Lisa’s thoughts might have carried her at that moment.

“I hope so,” Lisa uttered. “Though somehow, I think I acted a little more like Aunt Evelyn: dropping expensive gifts instead of making any meaningful impact on his life that would actually matter.”

“I don’t see it that way at all,” Rachel countered. “You give from the heart, Lisa. You’ve always been the generous type. And with Fairfield’s success came bigger ways to show that generosity. To be honest, I was a bit jealous of your giving nature, too.”

“And if I’m going to be honest, I was a bit jealous of you,” Lisa said seriously.

“Of me?” Rachel said, clearly shocked. “Whatever for?”

“You left home. Had a child. You... didn’t have the weight of responsibility for Fairfield that I had,” Lisa admitted. “I have loved building up the business into the success it is today, but I also thought kids would naturally come along when I was married to Dan. When that didn’t happen, I thought about you and how easy it seemed for you.”

“It wasn’t easy at all, especially when Gary walked out on us,” stated Rachel emphatically. “And I thought I’d have more kids too, when the ex-who-shall-not-be-named came into the picture and seemed like he’d be a great step-father to Ben. We all know how that turned out.”

Lisa bobbed her head slowly, knowing no further words were needed on the subject of the breakup of Rachel’s marriage.

At length, Rachel murmured: “I’m glad I came out here one last time. There was a time I couldn’t wait to leave; relieved you were the older daughter that Dad would look to for running the business. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how much of a burden you’ve shouldered.”

“We’ve both had our burdens and hardships,” Lisa said, looking at the glowing embers in the fireplace.

“I mean it, Lisa,” Rachel insisted. “Thank you for being there for Dad, and for running Fairfield all these years. It’s just a shame he didn’t live long enough to see the success it’s become.”

“A success that’s now coming to a close,” Lisa said quietly. “When I pick up stakes and move to Avignon, it’s going to be a whole new business.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rachel commented. “You haven’t heard from Jack. You said it yourself that it’s time to make a fresh start.”

“I know,” Lisa said. “And you’re right. But being here in Hudson, well, it’s brought back a lot of memories with him. Good memories. It hurts to finally realise that there won’t be any more of those.”

“Well, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a fine French gentleman in Avignon,” Rachel said with a mirthful chuckle.

“Oh, no! The last thing I need is to turn into Aunt Evelyn,” Lisa scoffed, chagrined at her sister’s comment. Her thoughts suddenly took her to Toulon and the foul experience she had with Alphonse. It struck her his marriage to the young Audrey had come and gone that spring, and their baby was probably due any time. I sure dodged a bullet with that one, she decided, even if my “friends” thought we would make a good match.

“You could never be like Aunt Evelyn,” Rachel said. “You’re not a gold-digger, and the money you’ve made came through hard work. And the money doesn’t really matter to you, either, does it?”

“I won’t lie,” Lisa replied. “The money matters, because I got to do things and go places I always dreamed of doing and seeing when I was a kid. But what’s money if you don’t have people you love to share it with?”

Rachel looked at her sister with sympathy. “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

Lisa returned Rachel’s glance. “With every fiber of my being. My whole world stopped when Lou told me about his heart attack. Nothing mattered after nearly losing him like that. I just wish I had the chance to tell him so.”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you what to do or what not to do, Lis,” Rachel said. “But you’re here in Hudson now, and he’s here. This could be your last chance to tell him.”

A slight shiver ran down Lisa’s spine at the notion of facing Jack and baring her heart as she had tried so many months ago, when she made the horrible mistake of renting the hospital bed for him. “I already squandered that ‘last chance’, Rach,” Lisa said sadly. “It’ll take a miracle to convince Jack to see me again. I blew it, and now I’m paying the price.”

Thanksgiving dishes were washed and put away; night checks on the horses were finished; everyone was tucked away in bed. Jack, however, lingered by himself in the living room before the fire, sipping on a hot toddy. There was indeed much to be thankful for, he knew, particularly when it came to his own life. There’s much to regret, too, he thought, watching as the flames licked at the seasoned logs. While life moved on, his heart still pined for her. He was still stuck in a place of uncertainty and inaction; of wanting to reach out and of pulling back again. It’s been ten months. Lisa has moved on, surely. It would be wrong of me to call her now, after all that’s gone on between us, and mess up whatever it is she has going. I should be thankful we had whatever it is we had and let her go. With that, Jack pulled himself up from the couch, doused the fire, and crept into his bedroom. As he closed his eyes, his last thought before falling asleep was that given his angry parting words with Lisa, spoken in the heat of the moment, he was undeserving of a second chance with her. Nothing will ever bring us back together; that’s a bridge too far.

*To my non-Canadian readers: Thanksgiving in Canada is celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

TBC

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ellana-ravenwood · 6 years ago

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Jason Todd and the Haunted Manor - Jason Todd x Batmom

Synopsis : Jason Todd, 8 and three quarter years old, is 100% sure Wayne Manor is haunted. And that the ghosts HATE him.

I wrote a few fics with only Damian and Batmom, or Tim and Batmom...but never just Dick or Jason. Which I thought I should fix. So here’s a little mom/son bonding with Jason, based on a headcanon I’ve had for years about mister Todd. I also very much like pre-death Jay who was such a brat and yet so cute, and affection/attention starved <3. So...here it is, hope you’ll like it :

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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When he was a kid, Jason used to run as fast as he could from his bedroom to the one you shared with Bruce, and jump in between you and your husband, terrified.

For the longest time, you never really thought much about it.

After all, Dick too, in the early months (even years) of living with you and Bruce at the Manor, sneaked into your bed at night, and settled himself inbeetween the both of you.

Your eldest son used to have night terrors. Used to wake up after nightmares of re-living his parents’ death. He always woke up with a start, mouth open on a soundless scream. So distressed and afraid that no noise could get out of his mouth. And then, more often than not with tears in his eyes, he would drag himself across the Manor to come and shyly enter the master’s bedroom.

At first, he stood there for a long time, and waited for you or Bruce to eventually notice him (which you always did, feeling someone watching you in your sleep, and therefor waking up) and tell him he could come sleep with you. More than once, you woke up with a start as you saw his little silhouette in the opening of the door, peaking in, unsure if he was allowed to enter or not.

But overtime, he stopped asking and just took the habit to climb into bed with you two, and settle himself comfortably in there.

Bruce would often grumble because Dick basically pushed him away from you (and wasn’t particularly delicate about it), took his arms off of you, so he could sneak in the middle…but he didn’t actually mind, of course.

As long as he could feel one of his loved one’s warmth near him, Bruce Wayne could sleep soundly.

Ever since his parents’ death, sleep never really quite came to him when alone. As a child he used to ask for Alfred to stay with him. But then when he grew up…he had to wait years before you finally saved him. And before he could sleep properly once again.

It’s one of the reason he always let Dick sneak into bed, because him too remembers a time where he woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and in tears, and wishing for someone to be there to hold him.

Naturally, if he could give the kid this safety…Then he would.

Bruce never “half-assed” anything, you often said. And you were right. When he decided to adopt Dick, you could be sure that he’d do his best to be the parent figure the little one needed. Which came as a surprise to so many people who didn’t know him outside of « work related » things.

He remembers the shock on Clark’s face, when Dick, 9 years old, came up the League’s Watchtower for the first time. First of all, who knew Batman had a son ?! And a wife, since that day you followed too…neither you nor Bruce could quite remember why you all went up that day, but you did.

To be honest, it was probably because Dick asked and no matter what Bruce said, he was never really good at refusing something to his kids.

But what shocked Clark the most was how patient he was with the kid. Dick asked three hundred questions a minute, and Bruce answered each and everyone of them, even the kinda embarassing/silly ones like “were does the water go when you flush the toilet, since we’re in space ?”.

At that time, Bruce an Clark’s friendship just started to bud, so Superman had no idea that the big, scary, unforgiving and cold Batman could be so…sweet ?

At some point, Bruce went to check something on the computer, and you were left with Dick and Clark (it was the beginning of the League, there wasn’t many people up that tower yet, and Bart and Diana were probably busy with their own things…oh the good old days, now, the place was always bustling with activities).

The bags under your eyes must have been bigger than you thought, because Clark asked you if you were alright. You simply said you were tired, and that’s when you got a bit scared that you broke the allmighty Man of Steel.

Dick said it was probably his fault that you didn’t sleep well, because he snuck in your bed again and was always quite an agitated sleeper. He was pretty sure he punched Br-Batman in the nose…

Clark just stared at the both of you, unable to wrap his head around the fact that Batman, THE Batman, who never smiled, cracked a joke, who was always serious and focused and all…let his kid climb into bed after a nightmare ?

You never understood why Clark couldn’t believe that fact. Bruce, when he was Batman, wasn’t the real Bruce. And of course that in the intimacy of his own home, he would be more tender and nice. Especially to his son.

And to Bruce ? Who knew how it felt to be a little kid, all alone and scared and wanting some reassurance and a good hug ? Of course he’d let the boy climb in bed if he needed comfort, he could really relate to him.

Yes, in the early years of Dick living in the Manor, he used to often sneak into bed with you and Bruce. It lasted for quite a while, before he could finally sleep again. Before the nightmares became rare, if non-existant. Before he finally felt like he was safe and loved once more, like he had a family again.

So when Jason started to jump into bed as well, in the middle of the night, you didn’t think much of it either.

You just assumed he too, needed to feel safe and warm. God only knew how much that child needed it.

And just like with Dick, you never minded it. You and Bruce would both welcome him inbetween you any time he wanted.

He always told you “I had a nightmare” and you never thought much of it. This was exactly the same scenario than with your eldest son.

Exactly the same scenario ? Not quite.

Jason never waited at the door of your room, too shy to come in and say he had a nightmare. He immediately jumped in bed, looking terrified.

You just assumed, at the time, that his nightmares were more “conventional”. Unlike Dick, Jason didn’t witness his parents’ murder, though he didn’t have an easy childhood either and god knew what he saw, living in the streets ?

Adding to the fact he never hesitated to jump in your bed, he also never came calmly from his room to yours. You and Bruce would often be awake by the time he’d arrive in your bedroom, because you’d hear his little feet pound the floor as he ran full speed from his room to yours !

You knew he tried to stay silent, to move stealthily, but you always heard how hurriedly he’d come over, running as fast as he could.

Dick would calmly walk from his room to yours (both their rooms were pretty close from yours. Later, they’d change and move to the West Wing, as far as possible from your bedroom for… « reasons », but at the beginning, you made sure they were close in case…Well, in case they needed you late at night), Jason would rush, in a panic. That was a pretty big difference, that at the time, you didn’t really pay attention to.

But again, given the history of the boy and such, you never once questioned why he looked so scared when he came in your room. He said he had a nightmare. You accepted his explanation and would rock him back to sleep, or sandwich him between you and Bruce, warm and safe.

You would never, EVER have guessed that the reason your son, that you always thought to be so brave and without any fear, ran to your bedroom at night was because…He was certain that Wayne Manor was haunted.

And that the ghosts HATED him.

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

The first night Jason spend at Wayne Manor was also his first encounter with them. Which made sense, of course they’d come to him as soon as he arrived !

Bruce was out on patrol, but he kissed him goodnight before leaving. This was still the very early days of Jason becoming your son, but already the boy accepted that kiss.

Thanks to his experience with Dick, Bruce wasn’t as lost as he used to be when faced with kids (even if lately, as Dick left to join the “Teen Titans”, his relationship with his father wasn’t the best…your eldest rarely stayed in the Manor anymore, prefering to be away in the Titans’ headquarter. Actually, it had been months since last time Dick stayed the night home, and he only came to see you and Alfred and…oh, but that was another story), and this said experience made it easier for Bruce to instantly bond with his new son.

Well, not quite instantly. When he saw that little kid steal the Batmobile’s tyres, Bruce wasn’t really amused…

And Jason ? Jason craved love and attention so much that although he was suspicious at first because everything seemed too good to be true, he ended up letting things happening pretty easily. Well, just like any 8 years old who just wanted to be cared about.

Plus, he was very excited at the idea of being the new Robin, even if he wouldn’t wear the costume for quite a while (about a year, in fact, and only after intensive training with his father).

That first night started really well.

He got a kiss from his new dad (who was, by the way, supposedly known to not show affection much…but something told Jason that was just appearances, and that the Batman was much sweeter than he’d let on), a goodnight snack from that great guy called Alfred (he made him his favorite cookies ! And he was allowed to eat it in bed !), and his new mom…

His new mom (the only one that acted like a mom to him really), you, read him a bed time story. Which turned into two bed time stories, because you really couldn’t resist how cute he looked asking for more.

After the fifth story, you decided it was enough and made the boy promise he wouldn’t tell anything to his father (Bruce would NEVER let it go that you just didn’t seem to be able to say « no » when kids gave you their best puppy eyes…).

It was 10 pm when you left him, after a few kisses goodnight and a tickle war (you really were weak in front of his cuteness, and the only way you found to escape him asking for another story was to tickle him until he begged you to stop and forgot all about books).

You went back to your room, making sure he knew you weren’t far (you’d usually be down in the Batcave but you and Alfred made an agreement that you’d each take turn down there, even more so when the kids were young. There was NO WAY you’d let them alone in the house at night, even if technically you were not far, just right under them...).

And for the first two hours, nothing happened.

Until the giant clock’s gong, that was in the living room, resonated in the entire house. Jason wasn’t quite sure if it was the clock or…something else, that woke him up at that exact moment.

But what he knew, is that all of a sudden, he was wide awake while he was sleeping peacefully just a few seconds ago. In a real bed, for the first time in a very VERY long time.

He sat up, wondering if maybe he just heard Bruce coming back from being Batman ? If it was him, then he wanted to greet him back, no matter if the man was going to scold him because it was late !

Jason threw his cover off of him, and jumped on his feet. Ah and he was definitely hearing footsteps in the corridor, they were coming right in front of his room now ! Excitedly, Jason ran to his door and flung it open and…Nothing.

And no one.

“Bruce ?”

No answer. Jason flicked his eyes to his digital alarm clock and a thought invaded his head…Midnight ? It was much too early for Batman to stop patrolling ! Bruce would only come back up in the early hours of the morning !

Maybe he heard you walking back to your room in the corridor ? Sure it was weird that the footsteps immediately stopped as soon as he opened the door, but maybe you just went back in your room at that exact same time !

Were you still awake ? Maybe he could convince you that he couldn’t sleep, and you’d read him some more stories ? Curious, he went to your bedroom.

The light in was definitely switched off. He opened the door slowly, and…you weren’t there. Mm. But the footsteps definitely went in that direction ! Maybe it was Alfred ? Oh oh, or maybe you went to get a drink, or maybe you couldn’t sleep and was walking around the manor ?

He closed the door to your room again, and looked around in the dark corridor.

Jason has never been afraid of the dark, he had much more worries as a kid than monsters lurking in the shadows. He had very real monsters, back home…

So when he took a look on both sides of the corridor, he wasn’t scared at all. And didn’t feel the need to switch the light on. Even more so since he had no idea where the light switch was in that long ass corridor anyway ?

But though he wasn’t scared, he had a strange uneasy feeling in his chest. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to look for you. Make sure you were still here.

He turned towards where he thought the footsteps went, and started to walk…The creasing sound of his bedroom door slowly closing made him stop dead in his track.

He turned around, and in the dim light of the moon, definitely saw the door inexorably closing by itself ! In the last few inches left, the door slammed shut, making him jump in the air, and without really knowing why, he started to run towards where he thought you were.

Did he left his window open ? It was a bit hot today, in that warm summer night, but he couldn’t quite remember if he left the window open or not…

He ran down the corridor.

Now he could go downstairs, or continue further and up to the next level but…Why would you go upstairs at this time of the night ? There was only guest rooms and unused bathrooms !

Sure you told him sometimes you walked around when you couldn’t sleep, but you also said you’d often go in the living room to watch a movie…

Down, or up ?

It seemed easier to go down, and so Jason rushed down the stairs, almost falling over in his hurry.

Something really didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what. He knew that it wasn’t the fear of you abandoning him and not being in the house, because deep down, he knew neither you nor Bruce would ever do that !

So why was he so freaked out ? He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this afraid !

The door of his room closing was probably just because he really did forget to close his window, and the footsteps ? It was most likely you, of course ! Or maybe just his imagination ! After all, this was an old house where the wood always creaked and cracked.

Just as he was thinking that, he heard a sinister cracking sound right behind him.

What was that ? The steps right ? They were made of wood too so it was totally normal, right ?

He was now downstairs in the foyer, and everything seemed so different at this time of the day…Jason’s never been afraid fo the dark, as he had his own very real monsters back home. But here ? With his new family, in his new home ? There were no monsters anymore, and yet…yet the shadows stretched in ways that he never noticed before.

Pausing just for a second as he realized how scary the night could be, he started to hurry down the next corridor again, still looking for you. The living room right ? It was that next room on the left, right ?

Jason wasn’t quite sure.

Alfred showed him around earlier in the day, but there were so many rooms, he didn’t remember everything. He remembered where the kitchen was, where his room and yours were, and also the toilet (one of them) but the living room.

Jason flung the door he thought led to the living room open and…It wasnt’ the living room. It was…god knew what kind of room.

It had a pool table and a desk, and that was the only things Jason could see.

Suddenly extra aware of how dark everything was, he looked for a light switch.

In the long corridors, he couldn’t find where the switches were. But here…here he found it immediately and flipped it up.

Light poured in the room, and the boy sighed in relief.

Ok. Well, this wasn’t the living room, but it was an interesting place nonetheless. He could stay here for a few minutes, collect his thought and try to remember where the hell was the living room ?

He was-

The light flicked once, twice, buzzed and then...turned off.

Jason was completely in the dark again. He had taken a few steps in the room and turned around so fast he got a little lightheaded.

Was that why he saw a figure at the door frame ? Probably. Hopefully. One thing was sure, is that it wasn’t you.

The only light now was coming from the corridor and the open door, as for some reasons every curtains in the room Jason ended in were closed (the boy later found out that it used to be Bruce’s father office, and except for Alfred who went there to dust things over from times to times, no one ever entered it).

But slowly, once again, Jason saw the door closing by itself. And this time there was no window open for sure !!

He rushed to the door, but was too late, it was already closed and couldn’t goddamn budge no matter how much he tried to open it ! He tried to get the light to turn on again, but no matter how many times he flipped the switch, he was still in the dark.

And as he was fighting to get the door open, came the moment he realized that the fear at the back of his mind that he tried to ignore by rationalizing what happened so far...was the truth.

As he heard someone breathe right next to his ear ! And what kind of rationalized reason could explain such an event ?

Jason screamed. At the top of his lungs.

It seemed like hours went by, as he was properly terrified and unable to open the door ! But realistically, only a few seconds happened when...

The door opened.

Jason got blinded by the light pouring in from the corridor. And warm arms wrapped around him. At first, he fought them, afraid that it would be “them”, until he realized...

You.

It was you.

He recognized your soothing voice trying to calm him down, and the way your hands were slowly caressing his hair.

You did that too, the first time you met him, after Bruce scared the hell out of him by tying him up in the bat cave when he found him staling the bat mobile’s tyres (long story short, you weren’t happy and though Bruce explained his reasoning, you scolded him for a long time, and soothed that poor boy you didn’t even know for even longer).

Jason let go of all his emotions at the same time, the fear stacking up all of a sudden in the past few minutes leaving his body as he fell in your arms and cried on your shoulder.

You carried him back up, and he got scared you were about to put him back in his bed, all alone..but you got him all the way to your bedroom, and made room for him in your bed.

He fell asleep in your arms, feeling safe and warm, and wondering if he had just dreamt those events or not ?

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

He woke up when he heard Bruce’s voice, but didn’t open his eyes, listening in to the conversation you were having with your husband.

“-such a softie.”

Were the words that woke him up.

“Maybe I am, but...you should’ve seen him my Broosh, he was so scared !”

“What happened ?”

“I’m not sure. I found him screaming in your father’s office. The lightbulb got out, and I think in his panic he was trying to open the door inward while for some random reason, that door was build to open outward.”

...Outward ? Jason recalled himself opening it inward for sure !

“Really ? What was he doing in my father’s office ?”

“I don’t know ? Probably couldn’t sleep and went wandering around. Like I do when I can’t sleep ?”

“What do you think scared him ?”

“Well, thinking you’re locked up in a dark room in a house like yours would be enough to scare any kid, my heart.”

It would indeed scare any kid. But not Jason. Jason’s never been afraid of the dark, and never believed in...in...

“That is true. I hope-I hope he’ll be ok.”

Bruce’s worries soothed the little boy’s heart a little bit more. It made him feel better, that he was cared for. Even if he just discovered that...That...

“He will. It’s his first night here, it’s a bit overwhelming you know ? This is very new. And your house is scary. Dick too ended up in our bed, I recall.”

“That he did. And stop calling it “my” house, I’ll have you know it’s yours too...and his.”

Jason felt a large hand softly ruffling his hair, and almost gave the fact that he was awake away by smiling. But he held it in, as he didn’t want to explain why he ended up in that dark room all alone in the middle of the night.

He felt the bed shift, and guessed Bruce was climbing into it. Some added warmth wrapped around him, and he knew Bruce climbed into it.

And Jason fell back asleep, feeling safe and loved.

His first night in the Manor wasn’t a complete disaster. It was actually pretty good, really...If we forgot the fact he just discovered that ghosts were real !

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

Over the next few weeks, Jason tried to rationalize and find explanation about that first scary night. But the more he thought about it, the more there wasn’t any explanations !

And as days after days, he spend more time in the house, he found that...Something fishy was definitely going on.

When it was daylight, even if he was alone, everything was alright. Nothing weird happened. But as soon as the night fell, as soon as things got dark...All hell broke loose !

Jason saw objects moving on their own, doors opening and closing, and he kept hearing footsteps in the corridors at night, over and over, even if he knew no one was there !

Voices too, sometimes, calling him in his sleep and waking him up !

To him, and his 8 years old mind...it proved that ghosts were real. And apparently, those ones didn’t like him very much !

Sometimes, when he was really tired, he’d sleep through the night without hearing anything. Sometimes, the ghosts left him alone.

But sometimes, it seemed they were particularly angry and kept messing around with him, scaring him to death ! Those times...those times were the moment he ran from his room to yours, and snuck into bed with you and Bruce.

He never screamed, as he was sure that’s exactly what the ghosts wanted and didn’t want to give them satisfaction...But he was afraid, oh so afraid.

Night after night, he waited for them.

It was worst when they didn’t show up. It was proof to Jason that they were just being mean to him. Playing with his expectations, his stress.

The boy didn’t dare talk to you about it, because it was clear neither you nor Bruce ever noticed that ghosts roamed the manor ! Dick, who occasionally came to the house, when Bruce was away, never noticed either, given how he reacted when Jason asked if he believed in ghost.

His older brother just laughed, believing the boy was just joking around...No one who witnessed what Jason witnessed could react like that at the word “ghost”.

Afraid that they’d think he’s crazy, or a wimp...He didn’t say a word. He stayed silent, running in fear to his parents’ bedroom whenever the ghosts were going too far. He suffered in silence, not daring to tell to anyone that sometimes, not all the times, ghosts who hated him were keeping him up all night.

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

About a month after he moved in with you and Bruce, Jason asked his dad about his house and its history, and the man strangely didn’t know much about it ! Except for the date it was built in, and which of his ancestors did it…Bruce added he never really cared for Wayne Manor’s history, but that he was pretty sure there was books, or rather, registers about it somewhere in the library.

When he asked Jason why he wanted to know, the boy simply said he was curious. And Bruce was content with that explanation, after all, Jason did ask a lot of questions about a lot of things.

That very same day, Jason went to the house’s massive and well furnished library, and started his research, determined to know who were those ghosts that hindered his sleep !

He found a few books talking about the Wayne family, and man did sometimes things turned gruesome ! When he asked Bruce about the alleged murders and such surrounding some of his oldest family members, the man simply shrugged and said that his family was one of the first in Gotham, almost build the city single-handedly along a few other families, and always been rich.

And whenever there was money, power and fame ? There was terrible stories and awful things happening. Bruce then proceeded to reassure the boy that his family hadn’t been like that in at least a century, and blahblahblah...But Jason didn’t need the reassurance.

He knew Bruce was a good man. He knew his parents were good people too, and his grandparents too...No, what he wanted to know what was the possibility of one of the “bad” Wayne still lingering in their manor ?

Who was coming at night to haunt him ? And why were they haunting only him ?! After a lot of research, Jason was pretty sure he knew who were the ghosts that had something against him.

He was pretty sure that the leader of the pack was one particular angry man...

Theodore Hamish Wayne.

He was a ruthless businessman and politician, whose opponents tended to just...”disappear”. It was rumored he killed his own son-in-law because the man was a nobody with no money, and dared marrying his daughter in secret !

Of course, nothing was ever proved...but if even his own daughter was sure he was the culprit ? Chances were, he was. He just had the power and money to make evidence...”disappear” too.

To make things worst, and that’s what made Jason think he didn’t go into the after-life, the man died in odd circumstances...in what was now Bruce’s father old office !

“Odd circumstances.” It seemed like it was a suicide, and people would understand why he did it as at that time he was an old and bitter lonely man that everyone abandoned...But things in the police report didn’t make sense. However, he was such a hated man that no one looked further into it.

His daughter took back Wayne Inc, and the family became beloved again, after a few decades of Theodore spreading fear all across Gotham City.

Since Theodore’s daughter took back the entire family’s estate, the Wayne family stayed well loved, all the way to Bruce now. But before him ? There were some nasty people. And good old Theo ? He was definitely the worst one.

There were others too, that died in and around the Manor that could still be here. And none of them were great people. All of them were pretty arrogant, and proud of being Waynes and...All of a sudden, Jason thought he understood why they were being so mean to him in particular !

He was a street kid !

He was exactly the kind of person Theodore’s daughter married ! The kind of person the first few Waynes made “disappear” when they got too close from their family ! The kind of person that would bring shame to them if associated with them !

He was a nobody ! A POOR nobody !

How could they accept him becoming part of their prestigious family ?

But of course. That’s why no one else could feel the ghosts ! That’s why they only attacked him when he was alone !

You might come from a poor neighborhood too, but when Bruce married you, you were already a famous (and wealthy) author ! Good enough to be a Wayne.

And Dick ? He was from a family of circus performers, which didn’t sound great on paper but...Didn’t Dick once said his mom had some royal blood from eastern Europe or something ? Was that enough to be worthy of becoming a Wayne ? Plus, technically Dick wasn’t actually adopted, but was Bruce’s ward. It wasn’t quite the same thing.

But Jason ? There was official adoption papers. And though he didn’t change his last name (yet ?), he was officially a Wayne.

And how could a man like Theodore, or the likes of him, accept this ?

Yes. Young 8 years Old Jason Todd was sure of it.

The ghosts in Wayne Manor were usually discreet, because they didn’t mind the house’s inhabitants. But a good-for-nothing nobody like him ? Living there ? In one of the biggest room ? And daring to become part of the family ?!

Of course, that would cause a raucous. And make them angry.

Yes. Yes that was the only explanation !

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

“I live here now. Wether you like it or not ! I’m-I’m Bruce’s son ! I am ! He’s my dad ! And this will NEVER change so you’d...You’d better leave me alone !”

Jason said at the footstep he was hearing from the corridor. And as soon as he ended his sentence, the footsteps stopped. Right in front of his door.

“I live here and I’m not going anywhere ! This is my home !”

And it was true. Even with the “occasional haunting”, he still considered Wayne Manor as his home. And he loved this house...when it was daylight, or when he was with his loved ones.

Ah. But nothing could be perfect, right ? His life now that he had a new family HAD to have at least one flaw. And if that flaw were ghosts...

The boy grabbed his flashlight, and lit the entrance to his room. When the flashlight started to flicker. No, no not again !

The door slowly opened, his favorite book, that he was currently reading and that was sitting on his desk, fell down on the floor heavily.

“I’m-I’m Bruce’s son ! And (Y/N)’s ! I live here ! You can’t do anything about it ! You won’t make me run away !”

Jason was sure by now that the ghosts only ever came to try and make him leave. That they were terrifying him so he wouldn’t want to stay.

He looked on the internet to see how he could get rid of the ghosts, but it seemed that whatever unfinished business they had, it was too late now...they’ve all been dead for too long.

Ugh. Why couldn’t the nice one stay behind ? Well...The nice one didn’t really had unfinished business, really.

One thing the boy was sure of though, is that they were just trying to scare him so he would leave the estate, leave the family they deemed him not worthy of.

Even at that age, Jason kinda agreed with them. Even then, he had big confidence issues, and always seemed to think he didn’t deserve to have things (years of neglect and people telling him he was nothing were the cause of it all).

“I’m-I’m not afraid of you ok ? You can’t make me leave ! I finally have a family ! I won’t ever leave ! I don’t care what you think of me ! I know you can’t hurt me ! You can only scare me ! Move small object ! And never very far ! I’m not afraid, I’M NOT AFRAID !”

As if to confirm his suspicions that the ghosts weren’t “powerful enough” to truly hurt him, his blanket slowly lifted and flew across the room.

This fact should have made him feel better, made him feel less afraid, because now, he knew they couldn’t actually hurt him. After all, by then he’d been in the house for six months, it was pretty obvious the best they could do was scare him !

But the mere fact that some old nasty people’s ghosts were in his bedroom send shivers down his spine. It was an uncontrollable (and understandable) phobia. Reasons had nothing to do with any of it. And when he heard his name, softly spoken into the wind, followed by the words “leave”...Jason jumped out of bed and ran to yours and Bruce’s room, utterly scared.

So much for trying to show them they couldn’t scare him huh ? But he was only a little boy. He could only take so much...

Even knowing they couldn’t actually hurt him, he was still scared. Phobias didn’t need to be rational, after all. And he was still scared. Even more so since it played on the extra fears that he wasn’t worth anything, and that he didn’t deserve a family as great as you and Bruce...

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

Today, Jason was very proud of himself.

He aced a test in school, and it was one he was very unsure about ! He even told his parents that he probably screwed it up…But he didn’t !

As he raced through the Manor, he couldn’t find anyone though !

Ah. Of course. His dad was probably still at work, and you had an office in Gotham City center where you went to write (you also had one in the house, but you hated staying alone in there, and Jason totally understood that ! So when he was at school, and Bruce at work, and Alfred god knew where…you’d go write in that office space. Jason loved going there, it smelled like you. Like books and coffee. It felt safe, and when he was there, surrounded by all your warmth, he felt so loved. Like it never happened before in his life !!).

Alfred was nowhere to be seen either. Oh but of course, we were Wednesday ! He always went grocery shopping on Wednesdays. Though he’d usually be back by the time Jason would be home. But today, something must have taken more time than usual.

Oh well, Jason would just go play video games in the living room and…No.

It was raining outside today, and everything was gray and dark. Which meant the house was full of somber places and blackness. Dark corners and shadows.

And suddenly, Jason’s breath quicken. Because that meant…

That meant he was at their mercy !

Them !

The ghosts !

The ghosts that hated him !

He hadn’t seen them in a while, mainly because he was Robin now, and was out most nights. So this would be a perfect opportunity for them to...

The door to Bruce’s father’s office (Jason didn’t even notice he had stopped right in front of it) slowly opened, creaking in a sinister way as it did.

No. No no no no NO !

They left him alone for so long, he thought maybe they forgot about him. Or accepted him. But the actual reason was that he’d always go to bed when the first light of the day went up, and they had no powers, during the day.

Except when it was dark and moody like right now. When it almost looked like it was evening while it was only 3 pm.

The door to Bruce’s father’s office was finally opened, and the voice that scared him the most in the world whispered...”Jaaassooooon”.

And that was it. Jason, no matter how much he tried to rationalize everything, or to act as if they didn’t scare him, couldn’t control himself. And he had to get out of here !!

He ran towards the front door, ready to wait in the rain if he had to. He was looking behind him, and saw a small vase fall on the floor...they were close ! And though he knew they couldn’t really hurt him, the mere fact they existed scared him to death !

Ghosts, over time, became his one true phobia ! He could deal with a lot of things, especially since he was Robin now...but revenants ? No. No. And no.

He almost reached the front door when it opened. Was it them ?!

No. No it wasn’t. It was you. You coming home. And being extra confused when you were greeted by a strong hug by your son.

He always greeted you warmly, but never quite...Like that.

Even less so with tears in his eyes, and looking so scared !

“Jason ? Jason what is it ? What is it ? Did something happen at school ?”

In his state of pure fear, he didn’t take the time to think, as he answered :

“No, no it’s...it’s the ghosts !”

He would never have talked about it normally. But right there, as they took him by surprise after being absent for so long...the words just spilled from his mouth. And he told you everything. How, for the past few years, they haunted him and taunted his sleep.

The real reason he ran to your bedroom so many times.

But how it almost all stopped when he became Robin, because he wasn’t at home most of the time during the night, and if he was, you or Alfred or even Bruce during his nights off were always around.

He told you how whenever someone else was there, even if it was dark, they wouldn’t show up. How his family, you, Bruce, Alfred and Dick when he was there...were fending off the ghosts.

How when he wasn’t all alone in the dark, they never came.

And why they hated him particularly so. Because he was a nobody, unworthy of bearing the name “Wayne” !

And as he told you the stories of ghosts, of Theodore Hamish Wayne and his nasty friends, of how scared he was sometimes etc etc...

Well, you weren’t sure you quite believed Wayne Manor was haunted. After all, you never witnessed anything. Sure, sometimes, you felt a bit uneasy when you were alone. Shivers ran down your spine for no reasons. But it never went further than that, an old big house giving you kind of the creep sometimes.

But what you were sure of, is that wether it was real or not, it affected your boy. And you hated that. You hated that so much.

To you, it seemed like he created those ghosts in his head, to symbolize his deep fear of being abandoned, of being all alone again. But to him ? To him it was clear all this was real.

Oh but he believed in it so much, that you started to wonder if you had it right. Were the ghosts just the way Jason’s portrayed his true fears (the attack always kind of happened as he was asleep or almost asleep, it could very well be in his imagination, or sleep paralysis or something...except today he was clearly wide awake...), or were they real ?

You probably would never know, as it seemed your presence warded them off. And you certainly weren’t going to tell him you had your doubts.

And so you reassured him. You consoled him. You told him you’d always be there, and that those ghosts could never dislodge him from your heart.

“It’s ok little bird, it’s ok. You’re safe here, with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“You must think I’m nuts...”

“I most certainly don’t think that. You’re not crazy Jason, ok ? Nobody gets that scared over nothing. Nobody.”

“So you believe me ?”

“Yes.”

“Promise ?”

You didn’t hesitate one second as you answered, because even if the ghosts weren’t actually ghosts, you knew he was telling you the truth. That those things truly happened to him, wether in his head or not didn’t matter.

“Promise. Because even if I never see those ghosts, to you, they’re very real. And they’re total jerks. And- And you know what ?”

Jason was sniffling only a little now, slowly getting over his fear. Thanks to you.

“Wh-What ?”

You stood up, and brought him with you in the middle of the foyer. You couldn’t quite pick him up anymore, as he was a much too tall 11 years old boy...But you could still definitely hold him close !

You stood there, in the middle of the foyer, glaring at the entire house, and finally said :

“Hey ! Theodore and whatever are your names !? The ghosts haunting Wayne Manor ! Ya better stay away from my son, or I’ll whip your stupid ectoplasmic ass fissa !”

For a few seconds, Jason was afraid you just annoyed them and it would get worst...But then you continued. Telling them exactly what you’d do to them, and nothing sounded very nice.

In the end, he couldn’t help but laugh at how imaginative you got, thinking of all the ways you could make GHOSTS’ life miserable !

And now...

Now you knew. And you didn’t mock him at all, on the contrary. Jason felt like a weight was leaving his shoulders, because now...now he wasn’t the only one knowing about Wayne Manor’s haunting !

And since that day, things got a little easier.

But at the same time, Jason discovered that he hated to be alone in the house whenever it was too dark outside, which didn’t just include nights, but also gloomy rainy days.

He always found a way to avoid those situations, in big parts thanks to his Robin work, but also thanks to you, and how understanding you were.

It really didn’t matter, if the ghosts were real or not. You’d be there for your son no matter what.

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

Even if he rarely saw them now, the thought that Wayne Manor was haunted never left him. He still hated being alone in it. Especially when it was dark.

But hey, at least nowadays, you knew about it. More importantly, you believed him. He was pretty sure that at first, you didn’t really...But as the years went by, you ended up truly believing him.

As you said, more than once you got unexplained shivers or bad feelings while walking around the house, and only felt comfortable when you were with your family...you liked to be alone, but when you needed “alone time”, you’d leave the house and go to your office in town, where you wrote all your books. You also had an office back home, but only used it when one of your son, or your husband was there too.

Yes. By the time he entered his teen years, Jason came to closure with the fact that there was ghosts in Wayne Manor, and that they didn’t like him very much. But you know what ? They’d have to deal with it.

Because he was NEVER going to leave.

NEVER.

This was his home too now. Not just theirs.

They’d just have to deal with it.

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

You thought about the ghosts in Wayne Manor, as you roamed its corridors very late at night, tears in your eyes.

Jason had been gone for almost a year now, but your heart was still bleeding.

15. He was only 15.

You thought about how he was so convinced that the house was haunted, and right now...Oh right now you really wished ghosts were truly real. Because then maybe...Maybe he’d come talk to you again ? Maybe he’d come back to you, even if he was just...just...just a ghost...

A little wind went through your air as you walked in the corridor, and you wondered if you left a window opened somewhere ?

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

Present day :

Jason, as he was fixing himself a snack in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, thought that his old nemesis, the ghosts of Wayne Manor, must have believed they won.

After all, he haven’t stayed the night at the house in almost a decade now. First because he was dead for a while (bad business). And second because when he came back to life, he was lost and hated his father so much...He didn’t intend to ever come back home.

And it wasn’t because of the ghosts, it wasn't.

But tonight, after he finally understood and forgive his dad and they celebrated his forty-fifth birthday, and as they were all reunited for the first time in ages...He finally decided to stay over. It was so rare, they were all together, and not on patrol (they left the night under the watchful eyes of Batwoman...her alone could handle things for one night, and if she couldn’t, she could always call them).

But, remembering his old ennemies, he made sure to not be alone in a room ! He somehow managed to convince Dick to share a bedroom, even if there were definitely enough rooms in the Manor for all of them.

He gave the excuse that he wanted to “remember old times” when Dick finally came back home (shortly before Jay’s death) and Jason would sneak into his room and they’d play video games too late and fall asleep...Already at that time, Jason snuck in because of the ghosts. His brother’s presence kept them away.

He was too old, at that time, to sneak in yours and Bruce’s bed. He knew. Settling for his brother was fine. Because even if he could somewhat deal with the ghosts now...he still really hated being alone in the Manor.

The secret was well kept. You never told anyone that Jason strongly believed in ghosts, and that he was sure the Manor was haunted.

And Jason never told anyone else but you. That even now...

Even after his death and resurrection.

Even after he grew up, changed.

Even as an adult…

Jason still hates being alone in Wayne Manor at night.

Actually, he hated it even more after his death.

He couldn’t quite remember much from between the moment he died and the one Ras Al’Ghul threw him in a Lazarus pit, but sometimes, he had flashbacks of what he thought must be the afterlife.

With someone kinda looking like Bruce but not being him (he was pretty sure it must be his father), and a woman who reminded him a lot of you but that wasn’t you (probably a certain Martha Wayne…).

Which to him, confirmed the existence of ghosts. If there was something after death…Plus, in the meantime, he also met a certain John Constantine and that dude had so many stories ! Though he never quite dared asking him to exorcise Wayne Manor.

He really didn’t want anyone to know how much of a chicken he really was (damn misplaced pride, you hated it…and it was unfortunately a flaw ALL of your children + your husband had).

Yes. Even now, as a grown man, Jason would avoid as best he could being alone in the Manor when it was dark.

In broad daylight ? He never minded. Nothing ever happened in the light.

But at night ? Yeah. No.

Which is why, right now, as he was fixing himself and Dick a snack, he was going extra fast so he would stay the least amount of time on his own in the kitchen. Why did he even made the offer to be the one getting the snacks ?!

The lights weren't flickering, and he hadn’t seen any ghosts in years (mainly because he never stayed after dark in the house), but still. STILL !!

And as he heard footsteps behind him, but turned and saw no one...he jumped into the air, shoved all the snacks in his arms and ran as if his life depended on it back to his brother’s room, who in the meantime, had been invaded by his younger siblings too.

The next day, as Bruce would do his daily reviewing of the security cameras he placed all around the house (avoiding his children’s bedroom of course...or so he says), he got a bit confused by footage of Jason, being in the kitchen around 3 am, and suddenly running away, looking scared, as Alfred the cat walked in...

Bruce swore that sometimes, Jason did things that he didn’t understand. More than once, over the years, he saw him run away hurriedly from a room, or talk to no one in particular...Ah, his son was probably a hell of a sleepwalker !

_________________________________

Just a little thing written in a very short amount of time. Because of reasons. Next story will be a long ass one so ya know... :). I hope you liked it ?Ah, and what do you think ? Is Wayne Manor haunted, or is Jason simply sleepwalking and have a very vivid imagination ?

As usual, feedbacks and reblogs = life.

PS : As you noticed, I did not said my story was bad for once. I spend the last few days doing some self-care and...I’m gonna go easy on myself. Nothing can be perfect. And this exist just because I like to write, I don’t proof-read or just even re-read anything, this is my hobby in its “purest form”, just me enjoying to write about things I love, and sharing it. So. Yes. If that makes any sense...

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lyz-fics · 5 years ago

Text

Jason Todd X FEM! Reader: But I’m Not Pregnant…

Hey Guys! Lyz Here!

This is a special Fic I wrote especially for @just-me764. I hope you enjoy it, my baby. We all love you very much and are wishing you good luck and wisdom for your piano exam last? (a few? Long-time?) week.

Word Count: 4,074 Words

Summary: after an attack on the city, Jason comes to your apartment with…your sons?

—===✨🎇🎆💀🎆🎇✨===—

You lie awake in your bed dreaming of someplace else, someplace that was safer than this. Safer for the both of you, while the storm rages just outside your window. It was always stormy in Gotham but this night was different. The hail seemed to pelt down with force, desperately trying to rip the pipelines off the side of your apartment and shatter all of your windows. The wind howled through the silence of the night, coming in from under the door and piercing your ears with it shrill noise. Cop cars wailed and people were shouting, you were scared; Jason was out there tonight.

Suddenly interrupting your thought, your window flew open, it bashed against the walls as the wind continued to push it. A figure flew through your window, covered by darkness they edged closer and closer to the end of your bed. Heavy breathing filled your ears as you heard a release of gas when the figure removed his mask. You let out all of your pent up breath as soon as you heard the man’s voice. You reached over to your lamp to turn it on so you could properly see the face of your love.

“New suit?” you asked him seductively, “You look pretty good.”

“Please, (Y/N),” he was practically gasping for breath, “we have a bigger problem at the moment. The boys are in some pretty deep shit.”

God, way to kill the mood, Jason. Whatever – you would help him anyway.

“I’m sorry…we?” you questioned him, “I’m not a robin.”

“It's not that kind of help, please. I’ll tell you more once they get here.”

“Wait, they're coming here?” you were shocked, you can't be seen like this, your room was a mess, you and Jason haven't cleaned in weeks.

Before Jason couldn't even say another word there was a knock at the door, it kept repeating itself as if someone was trying to bust the door down. Jason ran straight for the door without even asking any questions as to who it was.

“Take the baby before it pukes on me again!” a boy yelled.

The young boy at the door practically threw the baby at Jason and stormed around the room or a few seconds looking for the bathroom. As you walked over to Jason about to ask him to shut the door so you two could talk a smaller boy came running down the hallway crying. He latched onto Jason and flopped onto the floor as he cried into Jason's boots.

“Richard,” Jason screamed. You bolted backward when he did shielding your ears, damn that oy can yell. “How dare you leave Timothy!”

You knew he must be mad now, he seemed to be using first names.

“Whatever, asshole. My parents are dead, you can't tell me what to do.”

This was getting too confusing for even you. you had to know what happened, what's going on now, and what's going to happen to these young boys.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

“So you’re telling me,” you paused for a deep breath before you continued, “someone-“

“Some villain,” Jason corrected you.

You looked at him harshly before continuing. “Some villain, was able to study and harness the power of a cryogenic sleep chamber and was able to reverse engineer it to make the boys children again?” you tried to sound like you understood what he had explained to you but truly you were just repeating what he had said. You had absolutely no clue how this had happened and how you were meant to help to fix it.

“Perfect.”

“You’re telling me those three boys are Dick Grayson, Timothy Drake, and Damian Wayne?” still shocked, you were only able to wrap your head around the thought that these were the boys. “Wait,” you needed to know one thing before anything got any more complicated “but who’s who?”

“Uhh, this machine still seems to obey the laws of time so Dick is still the oldest, meaning he was the angsty teenager you saw storm into our bathroom, Tim is the next one, and Damian is here.” He said the last part softly as he was rocking the baby boy in his arms.

“Time? What laws of time Jason? This thing obviously doesn’t obey any laws, period.”

Jason was stumped now, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know the first thing about taking care of children. That’s why he brought them here; he thought you could be able to help.

“I thought you might be able to help,” it was hard to get out the next part for him, “ya know because you’re a girl.”

“I'm a girl. Great,” you threw your hands in the air as you rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair. “I can magically fix this because I'm a girl. That’s perfect Jason.”

“Arent you meant to have some sort of maternal instinct or some shit,” Jason questioned. You were all starting to get a bit angry now.

“Shit!” Timothy chimed in.

You both turned around to see timothy propped up against the side of your chair trying to cross his arms like you had them, and look angry like Jason. You and Jason both winced, you would definitely have to make some lifestyle changes if you were to accommodate these children.

“Okay, new plan,” you sighed, “we get these boys in bed and figure everything out in the morning.”

“I'm completely with you,” Jason started hesitantly, “but where are we all meant to sleep?”

You looked around your house with a concerned look adorned on your face. You and Jason would have to sleep on the couch if the boys wanted to sleep in the bed. The plan was set, you and Jason got the boys into bed. Although dick was a pain to convince, he ended up sleeping on the edge of the bed away from the other boys. Arguing about who would look after Damian, you both decided it would be best if you left in the bed with the boys. Sleeping on the other edge of the bed you kept Damian up by your head, wrapped in your blankets and secured in place with pillows. In the middle of the bed was Tim, he stuck close to you through the night and something about having these boys in your bed made it somewhat easier to sleep.

Out like a light, Jason came and brushed your hair out of your face as he planted a goodnight kiss on your forehead. He walked over ad situated himself on the couch, covering himself with blankets and wrapping some extra clothes up to make an extra pillow, everyone was straight to sleep.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Awoken from your sleep so abruptly, you groaned as you had to use your arm to prop your self up. Looking beside you could see Damian squirming in his blanket, looking close to you you couldn’t see Timothy, now you were really worried. Looking all around the room frantically while you tried to pick up Damian carefully you finally found him. In the night, Dick had rolled over and wrapped his arms around little Tim, almost concealing him from sight completely.

“What's wrong?” Jason asked with a groggy tone.

You swung your legs out of bed as you held Damian close to your chest, he flung his arms at you as he used his hands and tried to claw at your chest. You walked over to Jason, maybe he could help you.

“I don’t know what he wants,” you said sleepily.

“isn’t there a list for this kind of stuff?” Jason asked. “ya know, food, drink, burp, play, shit?”

“No swearing!” you reminded him.

Although he was right about the things that a baby needs, you had gone over a special list with him as to what you can and can't do while the boys are children. One of the most important things being that you two were not allowed to swear while the boys are children as you could already see that Tim was picking up all the bad words that you two were saying to each other.

“Okay,” you started, “if you can take him into the kitchen and feed him that would be great. I think there’s some applesauce in the fridge for him to eat. If he doesn’t want to eat warm some milk up for him and feed to him in a syringe if there is any left in the medicine cabinet.” You started to walk off to get a cloth from the bathroom that you could use as a diaper until you were able to go to the store and get the proper supplies that you needed. “Oh, about the milk,” you suddenly remembered something, “I read something about testing the temperature on your wrist first to make sure it's not too hot for the baby. It should be a luke-warm temperature because that is most like the stuff he would naturally get.”

Damn, Jason was right about girls having a motherly instinct, you guess it just needed time to kick in. after you had found some soft cloths you walked back into the kitchen to find Jason trying to feed Damian some applesauce, it looked like he was getting very mad. Quickly you placed the cloth down and took the small spoon from Jason's hand, you twirled the spoon in the air to get Damian interested while making whooshing noises with your mouth, the oldest trick in the book – here comes the airplane.

He hed the food in his mouth for a few seconds, giving you just enough time to look at Jason cockily as if to say “I’m gonna be a better parent than you.” he started crying again before he opened his mouth and let the food plop out onto Jason’s shirt, Jason was degusted, he was a brat from birth he knew that much now.

“Why you little-”

Before the bay could come to any harm you chirped up. “Well, that just means he must need something other than food.”

At that moment the microwave beeped. You looked down and through the window to see the small glass of milk. You opened the microwave and took the milk out, sticking your finger in it and letting drop onto your wrist you determined that it was an okay temperature. Placing the cup down you picked up Damian so Jason could wipe his shirt off. Walking over the cupboard with Damian held close to your hip you found a syringe and walked back to Jason. He took the syringe from you and sucked up some of the milk. Alas, Damian didn’t want to go anywhere near that plastic monstrosity.

It was far into the morning now and you and Jason had tried everything to get Damian to stop whining and start to settle down again. By this time timothy and Dick had woken up and now had headaches. Jason had set up the TV for the boys while you went out into the hallway of your apartment. You tried everything and you were starting to get tired, you were relieved when Jason finally came out into the hallway. You rushed over to him and handed him baby Damian.

“We’ve tried everything!” you were the one whining now, “I’m starting to think he really is just a brat!”

“We haven’t tried everything..” Jason said hesitantly.

“What, Jason,” you were yelling at him now. You were so tired and worried at the same time. “what more can we do?”

“Give him propper milk,” Jason said softly as he stepped closer to you and pushed at your collar bone.

“What the hell Jason?” you covered your chest and took a huge step away from him, “No way!”

“Bruce said they won't have a memory of any of this anyway so I'm sure you’ll be fine”

You sighed, right now you just wanted to go to bed. At this point, you would try anything. You held your hands out to him and he passed you the baby. He opened the door for you as you both walked back in, him going to sit with the boys on the couch to watch…what the hell is even on tv at this time of the night, wait was that Godzilla? Nevermind, you walked down past the kitchen and into the bathroom, closing the door behind you you sat against the bathtub and started to breastfeed baby Damian.

Finally walking out of the bathroom with a sleeping Damian you placed him back into bed and collapsed onto Jason. You saw that Jason had put Dick and Tim back to bed and the TV was switched off. You took your place in bed huddled with Damian. Now you were able to go to sleep properly.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You were violently shaken awake from your sleep to see a small blue-eyed boy bouncing on top of you. You tried to roll over but the small boy followed you down as he continued to giggle.

“I want breakfast,” he sang, “what's for breakfast?”

You rolled over with your face stuck into the pillow, screaming into it you now realized that last night hadn’t been some crazy dream. The boys had all been reverted back to their younger selves and were now demanding you make them breakfast.

“Jason!!” you yelled for him hoping he would already be up but you only just then remembered that he would have gotten a terrible night’s sleep on the couch. “Go make breakfast!” you yelled louder this time thinking you had to wake him up.

“Richard,” you heard him groan, “make breakfast.”

Realizing that Jason wasn’t wanting to get up either you practically rolled out of bed and hobbled over to the kitchen. Taking Jason's jumper off the back of the couch as you walked past him you put it on over the top of your spaghetti strap top, it was just long enough to almost cover your shorts.

Looking into the fridge, you pulled out some waffles and chucked them onto the counter. Ripping the box open you put then into the toaster to defrost as you scoured the cupboard for honey or maple syrup. Timothy bounced over to the counter as Dick wandered over with his arms crossed against his chest.

“I don’t like sweet things,” he grumbled.

“Then starve,” you sassed him.

Walking over to the crying baby in your bed you picked him up and rocked him in your arms as you brought him to the counter. You got the applesauce out of the fridge and brought it over to where the boys were eating. There you joined Timothy, happily chewing on his stacked waffle sandwich, and Dick, chewing a tiny piece of waffle with a disgruntled face. Carefully feeding Damian you waited for Jason to get up before you went into the bathroom again to feed him some more.

“What are we gonna do today momma bird?” Jason sang.

“Get some proper clothes for these boys,” you said in a grumbled tone as you looked Jason up and down.

“What's wrong with the clothes I gave them?”

“They're yours from years ago”

“So?”

“You had a terrible fashion sense years ago,” you said as you rolled your eyes. Jason gasped at this; he knew it was terrible but he always loved to play the dramatic one in the relationship.

“Leather jackets will always be in season and you know it,” he sassed you as you walked off to change into something you could wear out to the shops.

Cleaning up after boys, you took everything you needed and put it in your backpack. Carefully taking Damian you were able to make sure Dick was in sight as he continued to play on his phone. Jason picked up Tim and carried him as he quickly got tired of walking and ‘needed to be carried or his legs would fall off’. Walking into the first store you went straight to the baby section and picked out some onesies for Damian. Looking through what the store had you picked out a few plain onesies that he could wear, nothing too fancy. You didn’t want to get carried away; he wasn’t going to stay like this forever after all. God, you would love if they stayed like this. Well…Dick might be a bit of a pain so he could change back.

After meeting up with Jason again you looked through what he had picked out for Tim and Dick. Tim had helped him pick some nice tops as well as some cargo shorts and some shoes that would fit him, as well as the necessities. Dick, of course, had picked some jeans and a few grunge tops, he obviously wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Quickly, you paid for the clothes and headed for the next store. Just a normal pharmacy, you picked up some proper formula for Damian and some diapers too. You walked to the counter quickly and picked up a small rattle on the way. Paying for everything once again you loaded everything into Jason's car and started to contemplate what you were all going to have for lunch. Taking a vote you all decided on mall food for lunch.

Walking back into the mall with the boys you spotted a bunch of reporters on the way in but thought nothing of it. Suddenly you heard one of them shout and run towards you and Jason. Flashing cameras blurred your vision as you bumped into Dick.

“Jason, Jason,” The people yelled at you both, “Jason Todd, is this your wife? Is it your girlfriend? How long have you been hiding her from the public eye? Are these your kids? What are their names? How old are they? Jason, what's her name? Jason,” they were throwing questions at you a million times per second and you were starting to get dizzy at how much you had to turn your head to listen to what they were actually saying

Your eyes were going blurry from all the cameras flashing in your face, taking gapped steps you accidentally bumped into Dick or was that Tim? Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder guiding you towards the front of the group of reporters. Looking behind you dizzily you could see Jason leading you, holding Tim in his arms as he curled into his shoulder to avoid the bright lights. You tried to keep looking around, where was Dick? Finally catching sight of him you realized he had finally put down his phone and started paying attention to his surroundings. In his hand was the corner of Jasons Jacket – leather of course – balled up in his fist.

Continuing to push you forward, Jason led you all down the crowded hallway until you found an elevator. Quickly running in he slammed the button to close the door and pressed the top floor – the parking roof, although this wasn’t where they parked it would be a temporary escape from the paparazzi for now until they could make it back to their car or until they could find another way out. Putting Tim down in the elevator, Jason pulled out his phone and began to dial a number.

He waited for an answer, “Yes, Hello? Alfred?” Jason asked, “I need you to come and pick us up from the mall on 97th street, by the park.” Jason paused as he listed for a while, you weren’t bae to hear what they were saying. “Yes, apparently moving to the other side of the city wasn’t enough to stay away for the public eye for long. Thank you so much for the help, Alfred.”

Reaching the top floor, you all got off and started walking around the parking lot to try and get to the ramp exit when Alfred would be coming to pick you all up. They only had to wait a few minutes before Alfred had arrived, he was, after all, conveniently out on a shopping trip for Bruce. Pulling up in the car, Jason got into the front and you hopped in the back between Tim and Dick with Damian curled in your lap. Driving off, you passed the paparazzi on your way out, you heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that you might not ever go through that again.

Finally arriving at the Wayne manner, you followed Jason in as he went to go and speak to Bruce. Hopefully, he had some way to turn the boys back to normal. Talking with him for a while you were relieved when he told you that you would be able to leave them at the Wayne manner for tonight as the aging chambers would be ready for all three of them by the morning. Although you were happy to have the three of them out of your hair you were somewhat sad to see them go.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

After Alfred took you back to the mall to pick up your car you and Jason haded straight home, you both had had enough drama for one day and you both agreed that you didn’t want anymore. Both collapsing onto the bed of your shared apartment you cuddled up next to Jason – after all, it had been a whole 2 nights since you were able to feel his body warmth. You sighed as you felt all of the tension in your body melt away, his chest heaved up and down as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer.

“Well that was fun,” he whispered to you with a small giggle, “I can't believe what those reporters were asking, can you?” he cleared his throat as he put on his high-pitched squeaky voice, “Jason, when was the wedding? Why wasn’t I invited? Are these your children? Ha” he scoffed at the final sentence, “like we're at that stage of our relationship.”

You hummed in response, why was he being like this? Should you tell him what you really thought of the time you spend with the boys and him?

“Babe?” he asked, he must have been concerned about you when you didn’t give him an answer like you usually do. He pushed back now when you didn’t even answer his call, “(Y/N), what's wrong?”

“Hmm? Oh, it nothing,” you sighed as you rolled over pulling his arms back around you as you scooted back into his chest to become the little spoon. You should really tell him. “Ya know, Jason,” you started softly, “looking after the boys was really nice, don’t you think? Especially Damian, because he was so young. Have you ever thought of having a child like that?” you instantly regretted saying something.

“Well yeah I've thought about it but what of it?”

“What if, ya know,” your voice started to get softer and softer now, “a child might be good for us? Maybe we would want to have children together.”

Jason sat up from where he was laying, he cocked his head to look at you, “Do you want to have a kid?” he asked – almost judgementally.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.”

Jason rolled you over to face him and he lay back down close to your face as he whispered softly, “it sounds like you do know but you just don’t want to tell me for some reason.”

“Well, you just went on about how you think we aren’t ready for that so of course I would be scared to mention it to you.” rolling over again you just wanted to escape from the argument you had created.

It was silent for a few moments before you could fell Jason's lips press agoing the back of your shoulder softly, carefully working his way up past the nape of your neck to your earlobe.

“Maybe a child would be good for me, for us.” He whispered into your ear.

You rolled to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to you as he wrapped his hands down and around your hips to pull you forward. He gave you a long kiss on the forehead before he rolled over with you as he laid on his back. He pushed his arm behind your head as you brought your arm up to place it on his chest next to your face. Your legs intertwined with each other as you drifted off to sleep. Maybe this whole shenanigan had a good ending after all.

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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mirkwoodshewolf · 6 years ago

Text

Soulmates through music; Brian May x reader

Okay everyone, now from the last Rock Angel part I know I had a lot of hearts broken and spirits crushed so along with the recent Freddie fic I just posted which I hope you all read and comment, I present to you my 2nd Brian May x reader fic. This time it has ALL THE FLUFFY FEELS that should hopefully mend the heartache that was “A family torn apart”.

Now one thing I should add is the fact I’ve put the reader as Tim’s sister, you know the first lead singer of Smile before he went to join Humpy Bong. The idea of putting the reader as Tim’s sister has crossed my mind more than once and I’ve yet to come across a fic with that description so I thought, what the hell I’ll give it a shot. And I may include a part 2&3 but that’s all I’ve had in mind for it, but first I’ll see how I am with time.

So warnings are FLUFF, FLUFF & yes MORE FLUFF, makeout sessions, Paul Prenter (yes he’s a warning as usual), bit of swearing but overall it’s as FLUFFY as you can imagine. OH ONE LAST THING AND THIS IS IMPORTANT SO LISTEN UP!!!!

I have linked a video towards the end for Brian May singing “Love of my Life.” Please please please please please PLEASE listen to that song cause it will help the story move along. I promise you. Okay hope you enjoy loveies :)

*PS AN 3-23-19*

For those who don’t know, I’ve made a little oneshot sequel to this story. Pt.3 is already done and complete, idk when I’ll do pt.2 so that way this short little mini-series can be marked as complete but for those interested until I get the time to do pt.2 have a read of this and I hope you all enjoy this next little continuation :)

Part 1.5 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Taglist Queen fics

@alexfayer

________________________________________________

*1970*

It was like any other Smile performance. Brian, Roger, Tim and I were playing at the pub, oh I’m getting a head of myself, the name is (y/n) Staffell, the keyboardist/pianist and sometimes tambourine player of Smile, but by day I do my mammalogy studies specifically in regard to carnivora species of the Eutheria subclass. In English that means I focus more on the studies of big cats, canines and bears.

And yes as you can tell by my last name, Tim is unfortunately my older brother. The relationship between us is…..well it’s strained at best but it’s not violent or toxic or anything like that but, we don’t get along half the time.

But he knew my potential of the piano ever since I was 3 years old I’ve been playing and I knew how to make a good rhythm or match harmony to melodies to some of the songs that Smile does. When Brian and Roger came on board in the band, the three of us became rather close, best friends you could say, hell maybe family.

Once Brian’s guitar solo came up and he had the chance to shine, Roger and I joined behind him and the three of us made a sound so magnificent and full of rock and roll, I felt like it would be deserving of the heavens. That is of course until Tim came back in singing and playing the bass guitar.

By the end of the show, our classmates and other young college kids applauded and my brother said into the mic.

“Thank you all. We are Smile. Goodnight everybody!” After the show I shook out my hands and flexed my fingers in and out and that’s when Roger asked me.

“You alright (y/n)?”

“Yeah just overdid it on that solo, always makes my wrists cramp up as well as my fingers. Thank god I didn’t miss a key though.”

“I thought you did amazing.” Said Brian. I turned to him and smiled softly and thanked him.

However as the night went on, things only got worse as my idiot brother told us of this opportunity with a new band.

“Humpy Bong?” Brian said.

“Humpy Bong. There’s going places, there’s gonna be big.”

“Humpy Bong. Are you joking?” snapped Roger.

“Don’t do it Tim.” Brian begged.

“I’m sorry guys but we’re not going anywhere with this. What college gigs? Pubs? I’ve gotta give it a go. Come on (y/n) let’s go.”

“I’m not going.” I stated firmly. Tim turned toward me holding his bass and he said.

“Don’t be an idiot (y/n). I already told them I knew of a great pianist who could put Beethoven and Mozart to shame. Don’t waste your talent by staying where you’re at.” I stared Tim down and said.

“Then find someone else with my skill set. If that’s at all possible of course. You may be a coward for ducking out but I’m not. I’m staying with Rog and Brian.” Tim rolled his eyes and muttered.

“Whatever, it’s your loss.” Then he walked away leaving Brian, Roger and myself along without a lead singer.

I just got back from the bar getting our drinks and I handed Roger his beer and I handed Brian his glass of water while I had me a beer as well. I sat between Roger and Brian in Rog’s van.

“You didn’t have to do that you know.” I heard Brian say.

“Do what?”

“Stay with us while your brother’s off to go big.”

“Brian, if my brother and I had to be stuck in one more band together, I’d soon rather gouge my eyes out and chop off every last one of my fingers and toes just so that I couldn’t play anymore. You guys may not know this but he’s also very critical when it comes to my playing. Claiming I’m not playing the right tempo or key. I’ll make it big with my boys at my side.”

“Aww you do care for us.” Roger teased as he ruffled my hair messing it up while I let out a whine before playfully shoving him away.

As the minutes ticked by, Roger piped in again.

“Besides I think he’s right. That show really was a load of bullocks.”

“Well there—there was room for improvement yeah.” Brian tried to reason with Roger. “Right (y/n)?”

“Uhh…..”

“See even she agrees with me. I’ve got better things to do with my Saturday nights. I could give you their names.” Roger grinned smugly at the last statement as he put his cigarette to his lips and as Brian and I rolled our eyes, Roger exhaled the smoke grinning at us. It was then a boy walked right by us before stopping in front of us.

He had dark black hair, about the same length as Brian’s was, he wore a jean jacket, a stripped polo shirt and dark jeans. But what made him stand out was the fact that I could see that he had an overbite and the fact that he didn’t look British at all, it looked like he was either from the Middle East or India, I don’t know I’m always getting those places mixed up.

“En—enjoyed the show.” He said. He was kinda awkward and shy but at least he’s not like all the other boys who come up to us and then spot me and try to get a shag from me.

“Thanks man.” Said Brian.

“Thank you.” Both Roger and I said.

“I’ve been following you for a while actually. Smile. Makes sense for a dental student.” He said shyly gesturing to Roger before turning to Brian and continuing, “And you’re astrophysics, aren’t you?”

“Yeah” Brian answered wearily.

“Makes you the clever one.” The man answered. Seeming to boost Brian’s already big ego he turned to Roger and I and said.

“Yeah I suppose it does.”

“And you dear, you’re a biologist aren’t you. Specifically for mammals. Right?” he said pointing to me.

“Yeah though I really love the big cats and canines.”

“Thought so. Fierce, clever girls such as yourself always love those kinds of animals.” I then turned to Brian and said in the same tone he had spoken to Roger and me.

“Yeah I suppose we do.”

“I study design here.” He said.

“Wow, I can tell. I love your jacket, it really goes well with your shirt.” I said to him.

“Thank you darling. Also I—” he then pulled out some sheets of paper and said, “I write songs. Might be of interest to you. It’s just a bit of fun really.” He said putting his notes away embarrassingly since we didn’t immediately take them.

“I’m sorry but I’m afraid your five minutes too late.” I said solemnly.

“Our lead singer just quit.” Brian answered. The man’s eyes widened for a brief moment and he seemed to gain some confidence as he said proudly.

“Well then you’ll need someone new.”

“Any ideas?” asked Brian with a shrug. The man adjusted himself almost like he was about to strike a pose but chose against it as he said.

“What about me?”

“Uhhh…..not with those teeth mate.” Roger joked out. I slammed Roger over the head and I sneered at him.

“Don’t be a wanker Roger!” I faced the man to see him slightly heartbroken and as he turned away I was about to apologize on Roger’s behalf when something incredible happened. The man turned around and sung one of the verses for “Doin Alright”.

I know what I’m doin….

I’ve got a feeling

I should be doin alright!

Oh my…..My jaw dropped at hearing this guy’s voice. It was like hearing an angel sing from the heavens. The boys and I looked at each other before the 4 of us sung in unison.

Doin alright.

Our voices blending together in perfect harmony. By the end of the song Brian was laughing happily and I held my hand over my mouth trying to contain my squeals but I couldn’t help it, while Roger had the biggest smile across his face.

“I was born with 4 additional incisors. More space in my mouth means more range. I’ll consider your offer.” He told us before smugly walking away with his hands on his hips. I looked at both Brian and Roger and we silently agreed and it was then Brian called out to him.

“Uhh…Do you play bass?” He turned back toward us and stated proudly.

“Nope.”

About six months later after getting to know Freddie Bulsara, we started looking for a bass player as well as rehearsing before our next gig at the same pub. Finally after trying out a few bass players there came a bass player by the name of John Deacon and I could already tell that he was exactly what we needed.

Finally our next gig had arrived. As we all walked up on stage to our positions. Roger went up to his drum set, John grabbed his bass guitar, Brian had his red special that he and his dad had made together and as Freddie and I walked up Brian introduced the new faces of our band.

Of course one bastard just had to call out just after Freddie greeted the crowd asking where my brother was and who this Pakkie was that we got. I went up to Freddie holding my tambourine for the first bit and said to him.

“You ready Freddie?” He turned to me and said.

“Let’s do it.” It was then Brian played the first note for mine and Brian’s song that we both wrote together “Keep Yourself alive”. I slammed my tambourine at my hip, Roger kept the tempo with his drums while Freddie was struggling to get the microphone stan out of its place. Which made that god awful feedback screech and I was looking at him oddly as well as the rest of the boys wondering just what the hell he was doing. It wasn’t until he managed to break the microphone stand off nearly almost decapitating John’s head off and he then began to sing.

And when he performed, it was like he had no boundaries of what it was that he was doing. He owned the stage like it was his and made every audience member feel important.

The only downside was that he was singing the wrong lyrics and improvising what Brian and I had. Every now and then Brian and I would pipe in telling Freddie he was singing the wrong lyric but of course when Freddie sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping.

As time passed, our band changed from Smile to Queen all because of Freddie and because of him we got the chance to record our first ever album and we soon got discovered by John Reid from EMI records and he wanted to meet with us and possible manage us.

We got on Top the Pops, did an American tour and were now going to record our next rising album.

*Rockfield farm, 1975*

After getting the approval from Ray Foster, we were sent off to a recording studio known as Rockfield farm, and I’ll definitely say it definitely suited the name. This recording studio was all the way out of civilization’s reach and it all looked more like a farm than a recording studio with the wooden built houses.

We were lead inside by Paul Prenter who was basically our “watcher” keeping an eye on us from day to day. Let’s just say I already do not like this guy, he gives me such eerie vibes it’s not even funny. Plus he seems to always want to be around Freddie like a little lost puppy.

“Right I know it’s not the Ritz. Not even close. Roger, you’re in here.” He said as we all followed him up the stairs of the house we would be staying in for the next several weeks if not months.

“Right.” Roger said as he went into his room.

“Freddie this is you. Biggest room.” Kiss ass. “Brian, that’s you.” As John and I trailed up behind Paul stopped us and said, “John you’re in the living room. And (y/n) you’re downstairs.”

“No! Absolutely not! She can stay in my room. I’ll take downstairs.” Roger said. I looked at Roger in shock. Never have I heard him wanting to pass off a good room for what could be a cold, small basement.

“Roger don’t get all…..”

“My bedroom is big enough for two. I wouldn’t mind sharing.” Brian’s voice rang up. He turned towards me and said, “Of course if that’s alright with you (y/n). I don’t mean to speak up for you but I just thought……”

“It’s fine Brian. So long as you’re sure. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’s nothing (y/n), come on in.”

“Right then, that means John you take (y/n)’s room.” Paul walked down the stairs and I looked at Deacy apologetically.

“I’m sorry Deacy.”

“It’s fine (y/n). I wouldn’t feel right if you had been booted to the basement. It makes sleeping on a couch sound like heaven. I’ll be fine love.” I smiled at him and he took his suitcase and walked back down the stairs.

“Here let me help you carry that.” Brian said as he grabbed my suitcase leaving me with my overnight bag. I walked into his room and it was quite a big sized room, the bed however I can’t really speak for it.

“And you’re sure we both can fit on this bed?” I asked skeptically.

“I think so, we just have to make the adjustments and then….” But as Brian got on the bed, it turned out to be so springy and rickety, it bounded him back up in his seat. He tested the bed out before tilting his head to the side raising his eyebrows.

“Seems the adjusting is going to be bigger than we thought.” I soon got on the bed sitting behind Brian to his left side and it reminded me of a bed back at my nan’s house. As a kid I always loved jumping up and down on that bed, of course nan never allowed it and I was always caught and punished for bouncing on it.

As the day went on and after getting settled in, we all immediately went to work. Using the barn and the scenery as a perfect place of inspiration and the quietness of all distraction minus the chickens going around and the cows mooing in the distance.

Of course Roger couldn’t help himself as he would try to bother the roosters which in turn made one of them chase him which had all of us dying of laughter. We got some recording done just to test out how the sound system sounded and what instruments each of us would play based on the specific song of the songwriter.

Finally it was about 2am when we finally decided to call it a day and get some rest. We all retreated to our room and got changed for the night. Since there was a small jointed bathroom in mine and Brian’s room, he changed in there while I had the bedroom to myself to get changed. Once we were changed, Brian and I began to think of the bed situation.

As we both got into it, it turns out that there was still some space left for the two of us in the middle but only about a full hand length space. I slept on the right side of the bed closest to the door while Brian slept on the left near the window.

“Great work today by the way (y/n).” Brian said.

“Thanks, you too Bri. Goodnight.” I said to him with a soft smile. As I got tucked into the sheets I heard him mutter goodnight back and soon I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke to the rooster’s crow at the butt crack of dawn and as the sun was starting to lightly come in through the curtains of the window, I let a groan and yawned softly. I almost didn’t want to get up so I nuzzled myself further into my pillow.

Boy my pillow’s a bit sturdier than I remember it being last night, wait hold on a second. Why is my pillow moving up and down? And what is wrapped around my waist? My eyes shot opened and my face turned bleet red as I finally realized what was going on.

I had somehow ended up intertwined with Brian. His arms wrapped securely around my waist, my head buried in his button up white night shirt that had the first three buttons unbuttoned which revealed his chest and somehow one of my hands had tucked itself underneath it and I could feel his chest hair along my palm, I could also feel our legs entangled with each other.

I guess—no I would be lying if I didn’t say that ever since forming Smile that I’ve had a slight crush on Brian Harold May. Okay I’m lying again.

I’m crazy in love with the man.

From the first day my brother Tim introduced us together, I thought he was the cutest boy I have ever seen. His short hair at the time, his blue eyes, and his stupid but beautiful face that looked like he had come out of a Michelangelo sculpture.

I must’ve suddenly panicked or something because next thing I knew I was down on the floor hitting my head onto the hard floor.

“(Y/n) are you okay!?” I heard Brian say above me.

“Yeah, yeah I guess I had a nightmare and fell out of bed.” I tried to cover up my embarrassing fall with the famed ‘fall out of bed because of a nightmare’ trick. It worked all the time with Tim, why shouldn’t it work now?

Brian soon was kneeling down in front of me cupping my face checking me for any injuries.

“You sure? What was your dream about?” Ahh bullocks. What do I say to him? Come on (y/n) say something! Anything!

“I was falling off a chocolate volcano.” Really that’s the best you can come up with? Bri looked at me skeptically before laughing softly and shaking his head.

“I’ve told you many times before (y/n), too much sugar will give you nightmares.”

“And I’ve told you Bri, that I never listen to reason, especially from astrophysics majors.” I teased him. He playfully glared at me and I grinned back at him as he went back to checking over me.

I flinched as he touched the back of my head and he apologized and said.

“Well good news you don’t have a concussion.”

“Joyous occasion.” I said sarcastically.

“Let me go down and get you some ice to bring down the swelling.”

“Brian there’s no need……”

“Please (y/n), just so that I feel better.” He cupped my gingerly in his hand. I felt my face got slightly hot as the tingles shot up my spine from his gentle touch.

“Okay.” I breathed out. He smiled softly and got up from the floor and left the room and I let out a deep, heavy sigh that I had no idea I was holding in. “God why must love be so damn confusing and hard?!” I groaned. He soon came back with a small bag of ice as well as a kitchen towel, he had the bag of ice wrapped in the towel and he gently placed it right over the bump on my head.

“How’s that feel?��

“Good. Really, really good. Thanks Bri.”

“Anytime.” He said with a soft smile.

Later on that day I was walking outside along the barn humming to myself hoping to find some rhythm to get down on the piano so that I could make a song. That’s when I heard the sound of Brian’s red special guitar playing in the recording studio.

I followed the sound of the hypnotic guitar and I finally realized that the song that Brian was playing was Elvis Presley’s “Heartbreak hotel”. I quietly entered the studio and there I saw on the other side of the glass window, Brian with a set of headphones and I could hear him singing the song.

*Brian*

Well since my baby left me

I found a new place to dwell

It’s down at the end of lonely street

At Heartbreak Hotel, and I said

I’ve always loved hearing Brian’s voice. He just had this harmonious, angelic soft voice that he barely gave himself credit for. While I did appreciate Freddie’s vocal range and thought he was a great front man for Queen, I just wish there would be a chance for Brian to stand out, hopefully in this album A Night at the Opera he would let Brian have a song to sing.

I’m feelin so lonely baby

I’m feelin so lonely

I’m feeling so—

I then hit the button that would allow Brian to hear me as I sung to him.

*Me*

Lonely, I could die

It startled him as he looked up and stared at me.

“I thought you were supposed to be working on your own music?” He asked me.

“I could ask the same for you Mr. May.” I teased as I pressed the button again speaking into the microphone. “But you know me, I’ve always been an Elvis fan so the second I heard that opening note of my favorite song of the King, I just had to come and see what was going on.” He smiled at me and I smiled back. “So besides trying to be like the King of Rock himself, what have you come up with for the new album?”

“Come on in and have a listen, I need your opinion on this. And you’re the only one who speaks the truth without any sarcastic response.” He said as he set down his red special. I stood up and opened the door and soon entered the recording room.

Brian now held a 12-stringed acoustic guitar as well as a sack of papers and was sitting by the piano.

“Now I haven’t quite figured out most of the lyrics, this is just the chorus but I think it could be a hit. Or not.”

“Well let’s hear it.” He then began humming the tune as he started to play the acoustic. I’ve always admired the way his fingers would just wrap around the neck of the guitar with such elegance and poise as he would play. He’s always had guitar playing hands, as well as piano hands when need be.

Don't you hear my call though you're many years away

Don't you hear me calling you

Write your letters in the sand

For the day I take your hand

In the land that our grandchildren knew

I was in awe at the song already and I knew already that it would be a great song, but also it would tug at the heartstrings.

“Still a work in progress, but then again it could be rubbish.” He said.

“No, no! I love it. It’s just missing something….hold on.” I stood up from the piano bench and looked through the instruments hoping to find what I needed. Finally after doing some literal digging I managed to find a Marx tambourine. “Okay start the chorus up again but don’t start singing just yet, let me get the beat of it.”

Brian then began to play around with the chorus part and I tried to come up with a good rhythm beat and soon I just did a basic clap, hitting my lower palm to the head of the tambourine letting the cymbals jingle. As Brian and I kept the tempo he then began to sing the chorus again but this time I joined alongside him.

Even after hearing the song only once, I found myself knowing the words.

And our voices blending together in a beautiful harmony, his angelic tenor voice and my mezzo soprano voice made shivers run up my spine and goosebumps pop up along my arms.

When we finished the chorus, our eyes were locked onto each other’s and that’s when Roger’s voice piped in.

“How long are you two gonna deny it? Grow a pair and kiss each other will yah! God the sexual tension between you both is disgusting!” We looked up and there standing at the door were Roger, Deacy and Freddie. Brian and I turned away from each other blushing.

But I kept thinking to myself, did he feel the same way about me like Roger was suggesting? Or is he just pulling my leg like he usually does.

“That was beautiful Brian dear, what do you call that song?” asked Freddie.

“I—haven’t really gotten a name for it yet. It’s still a work in progress.”

“Well I love it, especially when you two sing it together. But if you don’t mind I need to steal (y/n) away and teach her the piano for the song I have in mind for the album that will change the way music can be created.” I turned to Brian and he gestured for me to go on.

I set the tambourine down and walked towards Freddie and he wrapped an arm around me and led me out of the recording studio and back up towards one of the other houses where they would have some of the pianos.

I was sitting next to Freddie observing his piano skills as he played his song which he’s decided to call “Bohemian Rhapsody.” He would cross his hands over one another for a 2 quick note playing before uncrossing them and returning to playing.

I’ll admit he’s quite the pianist. Sometimes I even wonder why I’m still even hear, if he can play even better than me. Hell back when we were first meeting with John Reid, Paul tried to convince Mr. Reid that the band could possible be better with just the four of them but the boys had my back and told Mr. Reid that either I stay with the band or there’s no deal.

He agreed to keep me in the band and ignore Paul’s ‘opinion’ especially after I had written the hit melody for Killer Queen while Freddie wrote the lyrics.

“Okay (y/n) now let me see you try it.”

“You sure I can do this Fred?” I asked him.

“I have complete confidence in you. I’ll watch every second and show you what to play in case you miss any notes.” I then began playing the piano now and I seemed to get it, except for when it came to the hand cross over. I would either miss the keys on the cross over or mess up the rhythm when it came back to uncrossing my hands. I was starting to get frustrated and I said.

“This isn’t working. How in the bloody hell do you do the hand cross over?”

“It just takes practice darling, here let me show you how it’s done.” He took my hands and placed them on the keys and said, “Okay start playing.” I then began playing the song and just before it came to the key change, he ordered me to stop.

It was then he took hold of my left wrist, crossed it over and said to me.

“Now with just your index and tallest finger, play the two keynotes.” I did as he asked and he immediately went back to position one. “The best way to remember where to come back to position one is to measure your shoulder length. Make sure both arms are at shoulder length and go back to playing. Now try it on your own. You’ve got this dear. Again.”

I sighed deeply and played from the top and miraculously I nailed it right then and there as Freddie sang the first few verses of his song. At the last verse he had before a guitar solo that Brian would do, he sang with such raw passion and I followed with the piano with just as much passion before gracefully banging on the keys as he soon held out the last note and I was soon out of breath just from playing and I knew right then and there.

This would bring Queen to the top.

Freddie turned to me and he said with a grin.

“That was beautiful darling, just like you. And once Brian hears you play, he’ll fall in love with you for sure.”

“Thank you for the first note Fred, the second note I’ll have to disagree with you on that. We’re just friends.”

“Come on darling you’ve told me once before about your little crush, why are you denying it now?”

“Because—because what if he doesn’t feel the same? Or even worse what if we did work out but then hard such a fight that I would put the band at risk? I—I can’t do that to the rest of you guys.”

“Oh (y/n)~” Freddie hugged me from behind and he said. “As a mammal biologist I thought you would’ve known that when Emperor penguins find a mate, they do it through song. You and Brian….you’re voices are made for each other. Your love songs intertwine with each other so well, you wouldn’t be risking anything. The only thing you are risking is the chance at happiness you and him can have together.” I pondered on the thought and I asked him.

“You really think that’s what I’m doing?”

“I know so. Denial doesn’t suit you dearie. Promise me you’ll tell him your feelings, for all our sakes.” I sighed deeply and said to him.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Do it before the end of our recording or else I’ll tell him myself.” He pecked my temple platonically before racing out of the room.

“What? FREDDIE!!” I raced after him yelling his name, knowing that he would go about doing that and I had to do whatever it took to stop him.

As the weeks went on, A Night at the Opera was slowly coming along. Most of the songs had been recorded, even Brian’s song that I had helped him with which he had decided to call ’39. Now our main focus was Freddie’s piece “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

And let me tell you already, that was the song that was taking the longest to record due to Freddie’s perfectionist vision for this song. He had us do multiple takes of each part from either voice recording, guitar playing, piano, bass, drums anything until it was up to par for his vision of the song.

Right now Brian was doing his guitar solo that he himself had actually written for the song. He ran it by Freddie and he allowed Brian to show what he had in mind. Brian was now behind the booth playing his solo right after my piano playing and Freddie’s second verse.

Seeing Brian in his element, playing his red special and playing what he wrote, it made me just fall deeper in love with him. I bobbed my head along to the solo with my eyes closed and just let his beautiful guitar take me away to paradise.

By the end of the solo, Deacy stopped the track and Brian asked.

“What next?”

“That was pretty damn good. Brilliant. I love that.” Freddie said but he forgot to hit the button on the microphone so Brian couldn’t hear him.

“Press the button Freddie” Brian said into his guitar mic. Our music supervisor Roy who actually helped us record our first album told Freddie what to press while Freddie bragged on saying that he knew where it was before pressing the button and teased out.

“Knock, knock.”

“Good” Brian said.

“It’s good umm…you know play it like you wrote it.” Freddie said.

“Well I did I wrote that part.” Brian said.

“Taking the piss.” Brian mocked out a laugh and said.

“Okay, are you happy?”

“I think it’s beautiful, just like our lovely (y/n). It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” questioned Brian.

“Yes give it more rock n roll.”

“Well I’m always up for that Fred.”

“Put your body into it.”

“Yeah okay, put my body into it. I’ve got it.” Brian said as he did a cute little wiggle of his hips as he raised a quick cup of water to drink.

“Not like that!”

“No I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Bit more soul, bit more soul.”

“Alright. Bit more heart.” Freddie answered at the same time Brian was talking.

“I’ll do that, are we good to go Roy?” Roy raised a hand up for the all clear and that’s when Freddie said.

“Oh then there’s the operatic section.” There was silence as he clapped his hands once and continued, “You’re gonna love it.”

“The operatic section?” questioned Brian.

“I know. It sounds crazy. I don’t know it could be a flop, it could work.”

“I love it Fred. I love it.” Brian said over Freddie’s word as he spoke into his guitar mic for the emphasize on him voting for the operatic section. Freddie softly chuckled and said.

“What have we got to lose?”

“Nothing.” Laughed Brian.

“If you say so.”

“Okay let’s go.”

“Deacy.” Freddie said as he turned towards Deacy who played the tape back before the guitar solo and Brian gave the solo more soul and this time I felt shivers go up my spine.

Days passed as we kept the recording up, and just like Fred said we were now doing the operatic section of the song. It was tedious and strainful especially for me since I couldn’t do as high as a normal soprano so that’s why for all the higher notes we left that to Roger.

Currently he was recording the Galileo parts. At the Figaro line, the recording stopped and Roger asked us.

“How was that?” I turned to Freddie and asked.

“Fred?” He turned towards me and said.

“Higher.” Roy rewind the tape and I said into the microphone.

“Can you go a bit higher?”

“If I go any higher only dogs will hear me.”

“Try.” Freddie answered.

“Freddie’s note sorry.” Said Deacy as he pressed down onto the mic.

“Go on roll the tape.” Roger sighed.

“Overdub 24 of Fred’s….thing.” Roy said as Roger’s Galileo verse came in. He did go higher than what he did previous doing overdramatic arm waves. At the end he asked.

“How was that? Better?”

“Higher.” Freddie answered bluntly. Brian poked his pen in the air signaling to Roger to go higher.

“Jesus how many more Galileo’s do you want?” Roger demanded as he removed the headphone off his head and placed them around his neck.

“Freddie wants to do a few more overdubs.” I answered him.

“Do we even have any more tape left?”

“I do have to say the tape is wearing out. It can’t take much more.” Deacy said.

“Yeah we can’t afford much more what are we? Three weeks overscheduled?” Brian answered. In the end it took about another hour maybe even 2 of Roger repeating the same four words till it fit Freddie’s vision until he finally said.

“My nuts feel like they’re in my chest right now. Are we done?”

“That’s it honey. He loves you.” I answered him with a grin.

The recording continued and this time we were making better progress as Freddie thought that the first shot at recording the next few lines were what he imagined.

Now all five of us were surrounding one microphone, I was standing between Roger and Brian as we all took each of our operatic sections for the Bismillah and the let me/him go lines. Finally at the last note we all had to hold out, at the rock n roll solo, we all couldn’t help ourselves as we bounced up and down knocking over the flats behind us.

Freddie and Deacy ended up falling to the ground, Roger nearly tripped over as did I but Brian quickly caught me before I fell over. And the way he was holding me, it was like he was dipping me. Our noses almost touching each other’s as we once again were staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

Both Brian and I stood back to normal as we both chuckled nervously rubbing the back of our heads.

“Sorry bout that.” I said.

“What—what have you to be sorry for?”

“For always having to save me from nearly getting myself killed. That is after all the second time I’ve fallen near you.”

“I don’t mind saving you though.” He muttered shyly. I turned to him and shyly smiled and that’s when Freddie said.

“Oh (y/n) darling, isn’t it about time you told something to Brian?” I glared at him and Brian looked to me and I said to him.

“It’s nothing Fred’s just pulling your leg. Much like Roger was several weeks ago. Now then, whose hungry cause I’m cooking tonight.”

Later that night after a successful recording and dinner, I was in mine and Brian’s room reading one of my favorite books when Brian knocked at the door and I looked up and said.

“Oh hey Bri, what’s going on?”

“Nothing much umm….do you have something warm to wear?”

“I—think so let me check.” I asked him why as I went over to the wardrobe and tried to find a jumper or something to wear.

“I want to show you something before we leave back for London.” He answered. I soon managed to find me my favorite shawl and I took it out and placed it over my shoulders and Brian escorted me out of the home and out into the field.

As we walked up a hill, I soon took notice of a few lanterns that had been laid out lit up so that we could find our way as well as a blanket with a couple of thermoses probably filled with tea or coffee.

“Brian…..did you do all this?”

“Yeah, hope I didn’t go too big I just thought we’d be a little more comfortable on the blanket rather than the grass. And I thought you’d might want some coffee to help keep warm.”

“No it’s lovely. Thank you.” We then sat down on top of the blanket and I took one of the thermoses and opened it up and took a sip of the coffee inside. It was nice and warm, just what this cool night needed. “So what is it that you needed me out here for?”

“For this.” He answered as he turned the lights from the lanterns off and he scooted over close to me.

At this point my heart was racing and I thought I was going to be ravished by Brian right here right now. “Lay back and close your eyes.” Oh my god he is going to ravish me.

“Wh-what?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Even through the darkness of the night, with the only light being from the full moon I could still see Brian’s eyes showing no ill intentions whatsoever. I nodded and so I did as he asked and closed my eyes and slowly lay back.

I felt Brian take hold of my biceps as he helped me lie back, I soon felt the blanket against me as I felt Brian wrap my own shawl around my tighter. I then felt him lie next to me as he said.

“Okay, open your eyes.” And when I did, I was greeted by millions and millions of stars. I let out a gasp.

In all my life, I have never seen these many stars up close. Ever since I was little, my family and I used to always go up to my nan’s country home in South London but when she passed away the home had to be sold and we couldn’t go there anymore. So the last time I had ever seen this many stars’ was when I was around 10 years old.

Now I have told this story to Brian, even with our playful arguments about whether space or animal studies were more interesting to study.

“Oh Brian it—”

“Shh. Just observe. There you can see Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, and of course Orion one of my personal favorite constellations.” He began to give me a little lecture on the constellations. Hearing him talk with such passion when it came to anything regarding of space made my heart flutter.

I kept my eyes on him as he continued talking about the stars and the cosmos but then he turned towards me. Our eyes locked with each other and I felt this spark go up my arm as I said to him.

“Did you know that—when emperor penguins find a mate, they sing to each other?”

“Really?” He breathed out.

“Yeah, they—find each other’s love song and if the song matches with the other’s then they’re…..mated for—” As I spoke Brian’s face moved closer towards me before finally his lips were pressed against mine.

It was shy at first but soon it became deeper and more passionate as Brian cupped the side of my face and I gripped onto his shirt with both my hands. When we separated, our breaths mixed together and I said to him.

“I love you Brian. I always have but I—I was just too shy to admit it and I didn’t want to risk our friendship or ruin the success of the band and—” I was stopped by another kiss from Brian, this time softer and more gentler but it still made my toes curl and shivers run up my spine.

“You ramble too much.” I couldn’t help the laugh that came out of me and he chuckled as well. “(Y/n) darling you don’t need to be afraid anymore. Because I’ve loved you from the day I first met you. When I first saw you I—I thought I was looking at a star straight from the cosmos.” I smiled at him and said to him.

“You are so cheesy.”

“That’s why I wrote that line in ‘Sweet Lady’ for you my bright star.”

“Well if I’m your bright star, then you are my emperor penguin.” He smiled lovingly and leaned forward and we spent the rest of the night making out and lying underneath the stars.

The next morning the guys were starting to pack up and Deacy came up the stairs as he grumbled out.

“Well I’m ready to get the hell out of here and back into my own bed. I swear that bed in the basement would be better fit for a child.” It was then he took notice of Brian and I on the couch. His arm wrapped around me and my head resting on his shoulder. “Wait are you—you two are….”

“Yes.” I giggled while nodding frantically.

“Oh that’s great! I’m happy for you both, and about bloody time too. That means I win the bet.”

“Bet? What bet?” asked Brian.

“The lads and I have been polling on whether or not you two would get together. I said you’d be together before the end of this recording. Freddie betted by the end of it, while Roger said not in this lifetime.” Brian and I were flabbergasted by the news.

“Roger Meddows Taylor! Get your arse down here right now!!!” I cried out. Roger soon came walking down the stairs and he said.

“Jesus woman what’s got your knickers in a twist?” I smiled snidely and walked up to him before gripping his ear tightly like how I sometimes do when he gets a little too flirty with the girls back during our smile days and I said to him.

“Did you and the rest of the boys have a bet in regard to Brian and I?”

“Jesus Christ (y/n) you know I hate it when you pull on the ear. Ow! Okay yes so what of it!” He yelped as I tugged on his ear. Hard.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Well what else were we supposed to do. As I’ve said you two have been pining over each other since I joined Smile.”

“Well jokes on you Rog.” Stated Brian. I released his ear and he muttered in pain as he rubbed his ear while I walked towards Brian and he stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You now owe Deacy…..how much did you guys bet?”

“100 quid.” Answered Deacy.

“Are you joking?!” snapped Roger.

“Nope.” the three of us answered. Roger grumbled and paid Deacy the 100 quid then he finally turned to us and he said.

“But I am happy that you both are together. Truly. Just don’t let me catch you snogging or shagging each other.”

“Why? This means it’ll be payback for all the times you’ve been with your girls, don’t you think so my big penguin?” I said as I looked up to Brian.

“Yes I suppose it does, my little penguin.” He cooed as he kissed my forehead which immediately grossed both Deacy and Roger as the two of them headed out with their bags. We both couldn’t contain our snickers and quiet laughter then I said.

“Come on, we’ve got to go pack now otherwise they’ll leave without us.”

“Why not let them? Then we’d finally have this quiet little house all to ourselves. Making beautiful music together, if you catch my drift?” he winked cheekily at me and I smacked his arm and said.

“You dirty rotter!”

“You know you love me.” He whispered seductively in my ear as he tried to seduce me with soft kisses around my upper neck and words of love.

“I’m not sure if I do after that.” I turned around and cupped his face in my hands and seductively kissed his lips. He moaned into the kiss as his arms left my waist as his hands were now cupping my face. Once I had him right where I wanted him, I raced up the stairs toward our room, and it only took a split second for Brian to call out.

“You cheeky little minx!” He chased after me up the stairs and into our room. My laughter echoing through the entire hallway of the house.

*1976. Sydney, Australia*

It was now the start of our next world tour. Ever since the explosion of Bohemian Rhapsody with the public, everyone around the world knew the name Queen. After getting out of Foster’s grip when he had rejected our song and I bet right now he’s kicking himself in the balls for letting go of the biggest rock group ever rising.

As for me and Brian, well……

I was sleeping on the bed when I felt a mess of curls nuzzle into my neck and I felt soft kisses trail up and down my neck. I stirred and turned around to see him holding me close around my waist as I felt him continue his trail of kisses.

“Good morning my love.” he said as he looked up at me.

“Morning.” I moaned out tiredly as I stretched myself out. I then turned to look at Brian and I said to him, “Why did we wait so long for this to happen? We could’ve been doing this for years by now.”

“Because for scientists we are both completely incompetent. But it doesn’t matter, we’re together now though. And that’s all that matters to me.” He said as he lightly pecked my temple before taking my right hand and slowly clasping my hand with his. He lifted our entwined hands to his lips and kissed each of my knuckles delicately. My heart was all a flutter and the butterflies (no moths would be a better term), the moths in my stomach were fluttering like hell.

Once he was done delicately kissing my knuckles, he soon came on top of me and I now lay on my back staring up at the man I’ve loved for so long. I lifted my right hand to stroke and playfully swat with my index finger his luscious curls.

“I can’t believe I get to wake up to you every morning.” I said.

“Believe me love if anyone’s lucky here, it’s me. I get to wake up to the most beautiful girl in the galaxy.” I scoffed at his cheesy astrophysics pickup lines but I kept a loving gaze up at him. He leaned down and softly captured my lips with his and just as he was about to deepen the kiss, a knock was suddenly heard at the door and Roger’s voice said.

“Oi you two get up! We’ve got to get to the concert hall and rehearse! You both can shag after the show!” we both glared at each other and I said.

“How much would it take to replace Roger?”

“Not a whole lot I’d wager.” Brian stated.

That night another concert began and everyone from Australia sang along to all our new songs. Now came that time of the show for Freddie and Brian to do “Love of my Love” with Brian at the 12-stringed acoustic guitar.

As usual Brian warmed up with some chords of the song and just before Freddie was about to sing he suddenly made an announcement.

“You know this time around, we’re gonna mix things up a little bit. Can we have the lovely (Y/n) Staffell at center stage please?” My eyes widened and I turned to Deacy and Rog who only gestured me to go down.

I walked off the drum risers and a spotlight followed me as the crowd cheered.

“Ahh there you are my dear, now can we please get a seat for her?” Soon a stage handler came out with a four-legged stool much like Brian’s just a bit smaller. “Thank you dear,” Freddie said to the handler, “Alright (y/n) you sit here,” Freddie helped me into the seat and I asked him.

“Fred what’s going on? We didn’t rehearse this.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen this time around I’d like to introduce Brian May for the lead vocals of Love of my life, and he’d like to dedicate this song to our lovely keyboardist and pianist (Y/n) Staffell.” The audience applauded loudly and I turned to Brian who only smiled at me lovingly before beginning to play the song.

After the introduction was done, Brian’s soulful voice went into the microphone as he began to sing while staring right at me, the crowd sung along. As usual when this song was played, we had the audience sing to us loud and proud and I actually turned towards the audience hearing them sing.

Play video

*Brian*

Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart

And now you leave me *Crowd*

Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me,

Because you don't know What it means to me

Tears filled my eyes as I turned back towards Brian. The crowd applauded at the end which gave Brian the time to lean towards me and whisper in my ear.

“I love you.” He then kissed my cheek which elected into more cheers from the audience before he started up the next verse of the song. This time he and the audience shared the song in a perfect blend.

*Brian*

Love of my life, don't leave me You've stolen my love, you now desert me *Brian & crowd*

Love of my life, (can't you see?) Bring it back, bring it back

*Crowd*

Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it means to me

*Brian and crowd*

You will remember When this is blown over Everything's all by the way When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you How I still love you

*Crowd*

I still love you

As he held the note along with the crowd, they cheered but Brian suddenly stopped playing. I looked at him confused, that was until he took the guitar off his shoulder and Freddie suddenly came in and took it as Brian now got down on one knee.

I could hear shocked screaming from some of the audience members, but of course I was just dead frozen right there in my seat. My heart stopped and I swore I thought I was going to pass out. Freddie handed Brian a microphone and Brian said.

“(Y/n). I have known you all my life. You’ve been there with me since the beginning and you never once left my side. No matter how crazy things got whether our fights were about music, or whether biology or astrophysics was the better science field of study.” I choked out a laugh as the crowd merrily laughed. “You’ve been my best friend, my harmony to my melody, the love of my life. You once told me back on Rockfield farm over a year ago that emperor penguins found their soulmates through song. And now, I want to ask you through this song,”

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet black box. The crowd went absolutely nuts as I held my hands over my mouth as I was physically sobbing hysterically.

He opened it and inside it revealed a beautiful diamond engagement ring. It was a nice size rock, not too bit but not to small. He always knew I never liked big flashy diamonds. It was on a golden band with two smaller diamond embedded right underneath the main rock.

“Will you, (Y/n) Staffell become Mrs. (Y/n) May?” The crowd screamed at me to say yes and all I could do was sob. Too emotional to even say it, I nodded frantically and soon the audience was in an uproar.

Brian smiled at me before taking the ring out and placing it on my wedding finger. Once it was on, I fell off the stool and embraced Brian as I buried myself into his neck and wept. When we separated, he cupped my face and kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose before finally capturing my lips with his.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as we kissed each other passionately and the audience just kept cheering and awing at us. Once air became a dire need, we were forced to separate and I took notice of the mic. I took hold of Brian’s wrist and held it up and as best I could Brian and I sung the last couple lines together.

Our foreheads touching each other’s as we stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

*Me and Brian*

Love of my life Love of my life Ooh, eh

I wept once more and Brian brought me close to him kissing my head as the audience cheered loudly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Sydney please give it up one more time for Mr. and Mrs. May!” Freddie’s voice said into his microphone. The crowd cheered once more but my focus never left Brian’s as he kept my face cupped in his hands and we kissed one more time.

After the concert, Brian and I were in our shared hotel room once again having a private celebration of our engagement. I lay there in my bed, the sheets covering my body while Brian stood by the table in just his boxers pouring the champagne into two glasses for us.

“I still can’t believe one day I’m going to call myself Mrs. (Y/n) May.” I said.

“Well it’s best you believe it darling. I’m hoping we can have the wedding immediately once the tour’s done. That is if it’s not too soon for you.” He said the last part concerned.

Well we’ve got about 2 months left of the tour and after that god knows where Queen’s gonna go after that. Might as well get it over with in case we have to keep postponing it.

“I don’t mind. I’m not looking at a big wedding anyways. Just a few friends, family and as long as I’m wearing a white dress and you’re all dapper up in a tux. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Then we’ll tell the guys in the morning. For now,” he was now lying in front of me facing me on his side as he handed me my champagne glass. “To us Future Mrs. May.”

“To us, Dr. May.” I said as we both clanged our glasses together not once breaking eye contact as we doused down our champagne like a shot of whiskey. We set out glasses aside and Brian leaned forward and captured my lips with his.

Soon the rest of the night was spent making love to each other, feeling each other’s body and praising one another with words of love. Of course that morning we got some complaints from Roger since he was technically our next door neighbor but both Brian and I knew that he was happy for us.

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