#remember kids! rarely is your first draft your best

[crabsnpersimmons]

@inkydoughnut

alas it was lost to the waves of time paint

actually took photos of the process haha:

(the colours are different each time because i was losing daylight...)

CRAB IS YOUR MOON OKAY WITH HUGS?

PLEASE THIS GUYS NEED SOME AFFECTION

LET ME JUST-

GHHHHHH-/pos

[nikkeora]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

[merotwst]

SUMMER WENT AWAY, STILL THE YEARNING STAYS !

‹. ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, jamil viper ›

. bulleted hcs

⇝that fleeting summer love that comes once in a lifetime.

[ n: uhh idk if i can consider this angsty??? it's kindaaaaa angsty lmao??? sort of modern au. this has been rotting in my drafts for centuries. ty for 900 ! this fic can be interpreted as romantic or platonic. not proofread. jamil when he when w ]

⑇

---→ tw. violence associated with delinquency in deuce's part.

⑇

ace trappola ‹ heartslabyul ›

. you met ace around your neighborhood one summer when you were 14.

. he was the temporary boy nextdoor staying with a relative.

. he seemed to get close to the other neighborhood kids pretty quickly and you were impressed.

. you would see him around as you passed by the basketball court or by the curb sitting on his skateboard with a popsicle in hand.

. you never made a move to approach him, but everytime you passed you would always catch each other's gaze.

. he never broke eye contact first and you always found yourself turning away from the awkward staring contests he traps you in.

. this went on for a few weeks.

. til one afternoon you were out with your friends at your usual spot.

. ace and his group of neighborhood kids arrived no later and you all collectively decided to mingle together.

. and as everyone was talking amongst themselves under the 4 pm suburban atmosphere of the neighborhood, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

. his spiky red hair and boyish grin greeted you when you turned around.

. you don't remember how it happened but you found yourself trying to balance yourself on his skateboard.

. he held your hand trying to help you balance yourself as you gently kicked on the pavement.

. ace's teasing laughs and your yelps as you tried your best to learn the skateboard went on for hours until eventually the light of the street lamp was the only illumination you both had.

. and as you sat under it, popsicles in hands exchanging friendly banter amongst yourselves, you realize how charming he actually was.

. he was still a dick at times. the way he teasingly lets you go when you're out of balance or when you fall onto the pavement and he has his good share of laughs before going over to help you.

. it pissed you off a LOT whenever he did those.

. but along with this, ace was also the boy that treated you to popsicles. he was the one who patched your little cuts and bruises from times you fell off the skateboard.

. ace was the boy who would walk you back to your front porch and wave at you with that signature cocky grin before skating back to the house he stayed at.

. and every afternoon, at the same time and same place, you and him would rendezvous because you were determined to learn to skate (mostly out of spite because he kept being an asshole).

. it had become a sort of routine. this went on for the whole summer. and you always found yourself looking forward to your little skating lessons.

. one particular evening though, as you were both walking home—well, ace walked. you skated on the board having much improved since the first time you tried it out.

. something felt a little off. you couldn't quite put your finger on it, but ace seemed to be acting a bit strange.

. he treated you to a nearby cafe without attempting to have you pay, he was a lot more talkative than usual asking about you (without saying much about himself, but you figured you could ask him some other day), and saying you could bring his skateboard home with you.

. you wanted to ask him about it, but you didn't want to ruin the moment. ace was being genuine and this was a rare occasion. if anything, you should capture this moment and hang it up a wall gilded in gold.

. he smiled. an honest smile yet somehow it felt a bit melancholic before waving you off with a goodbye, his signature grin creeping its way to his features.

. you twisted the knob to your front door but turn around one last time to see his figure move past the streetlight.

. but all you caught was a last glimpse of his shadow before he was gone.

. the following day, ace didn't show up to your usual spot.

. you still had his skateboard, so you figured you should just visit his place to see if he's alright.

. “oh my, he didn't tell you? his family picked him up early this morning.” the lady who answered the door said with an apologetic smile.

. “but i'm sure he left the skateboard with you as a gift. because otherwise he would have taken it with him.”

. you've never seen of heard from him again since. and throughout the years, you'd grown up. you gained new interests, worked part time jobs and you'd grown out of the mostly silly things you liked when you were younger.

. but occasionally, you glance at one specific corner of your room and see an old skateboard that once belonged to a boy you'd met who will always have a piece of you with him wherever he was today.

⑇

deuce spade ‹ heartslabyul ›

. at 14, you were a wild child.

. the rebellious kind. the kid that ran around at night vandalizing the buildings around the city.

. though you were a delinquent, you didn't pick fights and bully the helpless.

. you fought those who you thought deserved to get beat up, taking your anger out on the world through violence.

. you were a kid who was sick and tired of being forced to do things you didn't like.

. the typical rebellious teenager on the streets.

. during one of your escapades, you run into a boy.

. hair dyed blonde, a tacky looking jacket and a demeanor that looked as if he was ready to fight someone all the time.

. and fight he did because this boy was STRONG.

. that was clear to you the day you found yourself facing against a group of assholes who were too afraid to fight by themselves.

. they had advantage in numbers and it was frustrating for you being the only one against them.

. you turned your head to brace yourself from the impact of one of their fists when instead of the familiar pang of a fist hitting your cheek, it never came.

. instead there was a grunt and a thud. the arms holding your weak body loosened their grip on you and you took the opportunity to break free.

. that's when you first met deuce spade.

. he wasn't like most of the jerks you've met. this guy was a lot more... well, he was like you.

. he understood why you did what you did. he was essentially the same. he was frustrated so he used his fists to help ease the anger he feels towards himself.

. soon, you found yourselves spending time with each other. you fought alongside each other, you treat each other's wounds—you were partners.

. and every time you met up to hang out you would wait for deuce to show up at your meeting spot.

. then you would ride around the city in his blastcycle till you both decided you were tired and called it a day.

. you both didn't engage in violence towards anyone that wasn't another delinquent.

. and although you would get beat up sometimes, it was always better if it was with deuce.

. afterwards you would get up, ride to the nearest convenience stores and with your knuckles littered with matching bruises, eat some ice cream and laugh about whatever it was you guys thought was funny about that day.

. somehow, you found yourself feeling all the anger towards the world start to dissipate.

. you felt like the world wasn't as cruel when you were with deuce. the friendship you had gave you comfort.

. it was nice to have someone to lean on. someone who understood you.

. they were the best months if your life.

. then one day he stopped coming.

. days turned to weeks and weeks to months.

. you finally decided he wasn't coming to see you anymore.

. you found yourself wandering the city in your own. you were on your alone again.

. but instead of getting angry or going out to look for deuce, you felt like it was best if you didn't.

. deuce was a good guy deep down. if he was in any sort of trouble, you would have definitely heard about it by now.

. maybe he finally decided there's more to throwing fists at other people. maybe he finally realized life of a delinquent doesn't get you anywhere. maybe he's decided there's better things—more important things.

. because you did as well.

. so you stopped wandering the city. you stopped being angry.

. because you already knew what peace felt like around your old friend. if you can find that with him, you can find it with yourself.

. you both learned from each other and although you don't know if you'll ever see those familiar bright blue eyes again, you know he's taught you something special.

. you hope he's doing better out there.

⑇

jack howl ‹ savanaclaw ›

. during one summer when you were 10, your family took you camping.

. and as a curious child, you ran around every day since you got to camp grounds to play.

. everyday was a new adventure. and though you would play by yourself near the creek splashing on the shallow water as you listened to the cicadas chirping in the summer air from the trees above you, you didn't seem to mind.

. until one afternoon, while you were building yourself a fort made of sticks, you caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes and a fluffy tail from the tall grasses nearby.

. you were a bit scared because you thought it would be a big animal, but as you observed it some more, you could see the tail was a lot smaller.

. probably a baby wolf?

. wolves were still scary though. but your parents told you everywhere in the camp grounds was safe. it's why they let you wander around freely to play.

. maybe it was a friendly baby wolf.

. while you were contemplating whether to run away and tell your parents or stay and pet it, you felt the creature leap from the grass and land in front of you.

. it wasn't a wolf. well, not completely. it was a boy with wolf ears and a tail..!

. and he howled. well, he attempted to. it didn't come out as a roar, though. it sounded like a cute dog trying to bark really long and loud but still ended up sounding squeaky.

. it made you giggle. and by the expression he had, that didn't seem to be his goal.

. his name was jack and his family were also staying in the camp for a while.

. it didn't take long for you and jack to meet up at the same spot everyday. sometimes you would even run over to his family's camp just to call him over to play.

. and everyday, jack would attempt to howl.

. and everyday you would cheer him on, even if it didn't come out how he wanted.

. jack was serious when it came to playtime. he would give you instructions on how to build your fort. he would always gather the food (acorns and rocks) for your home (your stick fort) and would fight off any monsters (scare away wandering small animals that pass by) that try to threaten your home.

. it was sweet and you both had a lot of fun.

. you both found a seed on the ground on the day jack said his family was packing to leave.

. you planted it and pinky promised that you would both come back when the tree is fully grown.

. now you stand underneath a tall, sturdy tree and you smile at the carvings left by someone at some point in time.

. there was a mark with your initial and the letter J.

. you don't know where he is now. but you were sure he was here.

. you don't know him by anything else other than just 'jack from the other camp'.

. but you hope someday your stars will align and you'll meet again.

. and you can both stand underneath the small seed you both planted and watch its beautiful blossoms shimmer under the sun together once more.

⑇

jamil viper ‹ scarabia ›

. you were going through a messy time in your life.

. you were 24 when your friends said you should do solo travelling. they said it would help you get your mind off of your recent 3-year relationship breakup.

. with nothing really much to lose, you take their advice and book a flight off to somewhere.

. the only problem now was if you could actually fly off to that somewhere.

. they couldn't let you board because your baggage exceeded the weight limit. and now you sit down in the airport bench, aggressively taking out your clothes and considering just throwing them at a garbage bin.

. you sigh deeply and frustratedly and just considered going home.

. until a man came up to you. he was beautiful with gorgeous long black hair and dark skin.

. he said he'd overheard your situation with the flight baggage earlier and offered to keep some of your clothes in his bags.

. he felt bad since you seemed like you really needed to get on this flight.

. although you grew up being told not to trust strangers but you were too enamored with his effortless charm (he wasn't trying to charm you, he was just very hot) to decline. ted bundy would have loved you, you thought.

. besides he seemed very genuine. he told you he had a sister and he said she would get upset if he didn't help someone in need.

. and as he zipped up his luggage that now had a mixture of your clothes. that was what got you onto your plane.

. when you landed to your destination, the man came up to you again to return your clothes.

. you asked where he was headed. he said he was headed anywhere. you said you were headed anywhere, too.

. this man could be a killer on the loose. there is a high possibility you could get murdered and go missing.

. but when he started thinking and eventually said he didn't mind a travel buddy for a time, your heart skipped a beat.

. you found out his name was jamil. and this wasn't his first time travelling. he goes out to visit places every year ever since he graduated from college.

. he doesn't talk much about himself, but he didn't seem to mind listening to you talk.

. he had one rule, though. whenever he travels, he never uses his phone to go online unless it was for communicating with his family. he says that going off the internet and trying to experience life and the beauty of the places you go to completely was the only way he'd let you travel with him.

. so you turned off the internet. tuned everything out and focused on the world.

. and somehow, you found yourself thinking of all the burdens of your life lesser. whenever you felt the breeze of the ocean hit your face or you wandered around the local shops, you felt yourself feeling more freer.

. jamil was a dream, too. you don't know his last name, you don't know where he's from, but he always treated you kindly.

. and you got to learn subtle things about him the more you spent time together.

. like how he loved taking pictures of the sunset and the feeling of the ocean waves hitting his feet. he would kick his feet up to splash some water on you and you would do the same until you were both almost soaked.

. he would dissect the food you guys ate. not in a bad way.

. he would try to figure out how it was cooked and write it on a little leather notebook he carried around with him.

. he liked to ask the locals more about the place you were both at and learn everything there was to know about the place.

. he also loved to listen to music whenever you were riding public transport.

. you both grew accustomed to each others' presence. and on the last night of your stay, he took you to the beach and taught you how to dance.

. you donated your extra clothes to a local charity (his suggestion) before you went home.

. he took you to the airport. he wouldn't be flying back yet.

. but he said the week you spent together was something he wouldn't forget.

. you left him with a tight embrace and a thank you. he let you leave with the promise that if your paths ever cross again, he'll tell you his full name.

. you arrived home with less baggage (literally and figuratively), but plenty of photos on your phone of the man who gave you the most magical week of your life.

© merotwst 2023 · do not steal, translate, copy or reproduce.

[sugoi-writes]

FUCK. I WROTE PART NINE AND HAD IT ALL READY TO GO AND THEN MY KID GOT HER HANDS ON MY PHONE AND CLOSED THE APP. THANK LUCIFER I HAD THE FIRST HALF SAVED AS A DRAFT BUT STILL. OTL sending this separate because I was paranoid she'd do it again and I would have to write the second part a third time 😭 also realizing I forgot to put my sig at the bottom of Pt.9

..... Annnnd of course, after pressing send I remember that I forgot to rewrite the part where reader chokes Alastor when they cum. just shoot me holy motherfucking shit

At some point I'mma just make these into a full blown PWP fic. It seems like they get longer with each installment 🤣 (I'm sorry btw, I always feel kinda bad whenever I leave long messages in anyone's inbox 😫

AYEEEE WELL YA KNOW WHAT THEY SAY - GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE!! 😘❤️‍🔥

It's a fitting pet name Hunny Pun! You're the queen of puns and you're so so SO sweet like a Honey Bun! is that icing or Alastor's jizz on you??? ... im so sorry i'll see myself out again 😭 CAN'T FIND AND KISS ME IF I FIND AND KISS YOU FIRST BABES~! ❤️❤️❤️

I can't hold on to my anonymity anymore guys so I'mma be making Pt.10 my reveal post~ it's killing me that I can't leave rabid fangirl messages on your works like you all do here for me! I really did wanna wait until I got the Smutmus Holy Trinity complete or at least in the revision stages but just- GAH! I NEED YALL TO KNOW HOW AMAZING I THINK YOU ARE. Beautiful beautiful minds, inside and out i can't even-!

Seriously though, I can't even begin to express how grateful and happy I am to have met any of you! And there are no words in the English dictionary (or any at all really) that I could use to describe what I feel about how accepting and supportive you've been! I could NEVER thank yall enough for helping me to find the joy in writing again. I love all three of you so much and I'm honored to call you friends!! 🥺🥰💋

- ☄️❤️ Smut Santa

False Alarm for the Next Part!! And honestly, thank God, the vibe is still not charged HAH--

Oh no!!! I'm so sorry that happened to you!! I had a similar experience when writing my part 2 to my Nun! Alastor fic. Fun fact: had to re-write it 5 times because I kept forgetting to save it. ;;_;; hhhh my baby fever is so bad I'm crying, but man, KIDS! What a little stinker 🥹❤️

Also, my ask box is usually super empty? Like, you could LICK the floor with how neat and empty it is? I LOVE messages? Even better if they long like Alastor's girthy fucking co--

We--We were- when we??? ALASTOR GETS--??? MY HANDS AROUND HIS???

*Danny.Exe has experienced an Error*

*Rebooting*

OKAY IM BACK--

☄️❤️Anon... babycakes. At this rate I'm gonna do more than fucking kiss you. I think we're past that now. And if you keep calling me 'Hunny Pun', or similar pet names, I'm just gonna jump your bones--

Hug you!!!! I meant hug you!!!

It's Alastor's jizz. It's canon-- NO DONT LEAVE I NEED TO KNOW HOW I GOT IT ON MY FAAAAAAACE

GUYS CODE TREAT, CODE TREAT, THE ANON VEIL IS DROPPING!!! ITS DROPPING DHDHDJDHDJ-- You will never gain a mutual as fast as you will then I SWEAR

☄️❤️!!! Smut Santaaaaa! 🥹😭❤️ Your mind is a beautiful, smutty, enchanting place!!! Knowing that you've been religiously cranking this out, while also having a kiddo... Seriously, how do you do it??? If anyone deserves the praise rn, 🎵it's you??? It's you, ITS ALWAYS YOU!!🎵 ❤️❤️❤️

Don't push yourself too hard! Please? ❤️ I will treasure these rare, scrumptious little treats for as long as I have brain cells left ❤️ I will call you friend until you tell me to quit or I lose my voice for good. And even then, my lips will keep moving and repeating the same thing until I'm blue in the face. ❤️❤️❤️ you are such a sweet, sweet, soul, and I can feel your vibes, and they are so wholesome! I can't wait to meet the person or sexual fiend behind it all! I feel like I speak for us all, and not just the main 3, but EVERYONE: everyone who has read your posts love you to bits. And they love your work to bits. Best believe when you publish your first work, we'll be there. En masse. And we will be EAGERLY returning the love you surprised us with.

Thank you for all that you do. On this post in particular, you deserve a foot rub, a forehead kiss, and a hug that lifts and spins you off your feet! 💗💗💗

Have a blissful, best of days you can have, dear! You deserve it! 💗

[scrawlingmouse]

writing interview tag game!! 🐁

WAUGH tagged by @abysskeeper!!

This was fun c: tagging @unironicallycringe | @unironicallytes, @redmugsforeveryone, and @carana0, and anyone else who wants to do it c:

Under read more bc hoo hoo hee hee

When did you start writing?

When I was a kid! Not seriously or anything but I remember writing stories with my brother about us being space bounty hunters when we were small enough to have difficulty spelling. I started considering it as "I'm going to make this a core part of my identity" somewhere during 5th grade I think, where I turned in a 3 chapter introduction to a larger story for a class assignment lmao After that the rest is history

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Oh definitely. I have a shockingly deep love for post apocalyptic stuff despite how rarely I read it, same with horror. I LOVE writing horror (and tbh roleplaying it too!) but I am. Alas. A weenie when it comes to actually engaging with horror as a genre, no matter how much I respect it. For the most part though I write sci Fi and fantasy bc that's what I read c:

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Not consciously, I don't think. Like, obviously my writing is a subconscious blend of every writer I've ever read and thought "holy shit" about (I started accidentally mimicking Tamora Pierce when I started reading her works, and @punishandenslavesuckers had a very strong influence on my descriptions for sure). This isn't quite the same, but I remember being told by my Dad I think that my writing style doesn't sound like me at all and y'know, I'm taking that as a compliment 😂

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

DEPENDS. Largely on what part of the writing process I'm in. Concepting, outlining, first drafts? Probably outside with a pen and a 50¢ composition book, I find it gets the words going. Editing? At my desk, possibly with the printed out draft on my art desk, angled up slightly for sake of ease. Other than that it's me and my laptop wherever it's comfortable (but not too comfortable that I fall asleep) . Desk, cafe, library, whatever works best.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music probably. Music and letting the reins off the Daydream Machine and going "hey wouldn't it be fucked up if-" and then following it to its core. I feel like I don't really have that much problems with mustering up a muse, it's kind of my default setting to daydream about stories, like that's the easy part for me. Sometimes it's hard to write, but usually when that happens it means I need to take a break from writing and do something else for a bit, bc forcing it. Is bad. It's bad for the work and it's bad for the you.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Yes and yes bc I keep writing about Grief and I keep getting shocked by it every single time lmao I have a tendency to write heroes and villains who, at the core of their being, cannot handle some event that has happened to them, and often that winds up taking the shape of grief in some manner that they either cannot comprehend, or have yet to begin comprehending. Madness as grief as madness pops up a lot. Similarly, I like playing with the concept of chosen ones and living weapons and dehumanization and how those tend to play into one another. I find power dynamics very fascinating (as you can see from my horny works lmao), and I love digging into the systems in place of those and how it fucks a person up. Love to let an object feel like a person for the first time in their life, and then see what they'd do to continue to feel like a person. See what happens when that gets taken away again.

What is your reason for writing?

It's my reason for existence. I am not exaggerating. It might sound overdramatic or possibly egotistical, but. I've known this is what I'm supposed to be doing since 5th grade at least. When I finally got on my writing as career journey last year it was like this switch was turned on in my brain, this "oh yeah. This is what we're supposed to be doing. c:" it's one of those things where I can never relate to stories where the protagonist doesn't know what they want to do with their life, or when people talk about struggling with writing or not enjoying it. Yes parts are difficult (I'm in a difficult part right now myself!) but. This is it. This is what I was made for. If I am not telling stories in some manner then what's the point?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

A bit of feedback I got back from my beta readers for Deepest Canyon was "I couldn't put it down!" Which felt real good, bc the cardinal sin of storytelling is boredom. That they wanted to know what happened next meant I had their interest, attention, and investment ✨

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I'm just a little guy, it doesn't really matter how they think of me. Obviously I hope they don't think I'm rude or mean, but at the end of the day as long as they like my work, I'm okay with them not thinking about me at all. I'm just a lil mouse and it's story time and that's all there is to it.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Pacing, I think. I'm a planner as opposed to a pantser and I think I've gotten pretty good at spacing out and ramping up tension and giving breaks and getting to the climax and payoffs and whatnot. It's a fun lil rollercoaster to try and plan everything out and see where all the puzzle pieces fit c:

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm the best to ever do it.

Thanks for reading!

[pebblysand]

Questions 3 & 4 for the ask game for castles, please!

❤️.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

This is hard, but I think I will have to go with:

To him, the spring of ‘98 is about sex and funerals.

To me, it holds a particular emotional significance because it's the line that got me writing this fic in the first place. I had attempted to write a HP post-war fic for many many years before I started castles but nothing had ever really "clicked." Then, 2020 happened and I re-read the books and went through old fic drafts out of boredom and found a very early draft of castles. The whole thing was fine, but then I read that line and I thought: oh, that's actually a good one. I should do something with that. I don't remember writing it, or when I wrote it, but now it means something, you know?

Since then (and since choosing it for the summary), I've gone back and forth on it many times. I had a comment once complaining that the fic wasn't actually happening (only) in the spring of '98 so this was false advertising or something (🤔) and while it was clearly ridiculous, it did make me think. When I decided on the summary, I was also convinced this fic was going to be five chapters long and completely different, and I started wondering - as good as the line is - whether it still fit. The story has gone way beyond what I originally planned or expected, and I thought maybe it deserved another, perhaps more apt, summary.

But then, I started wondering what else I could use. And, of course, there are many other lines I love in castles, but none of them felt like this. I think the thing with "sex and funerals" is that it really captures the essence of the story, doesn't it? It's this mess of happy and sad things that make up life, that is just the tone of the story itself. And, sometimes, I also wonder if maybe I'm not false advertising in the way that readers might expect way more smut reading this that there actually is in the story (lol) but to me, the quote sort of symbolises the post-war world, its contrasts, and the "all was well" I'm trying to define. So, yes. Sex and funerals, I guess.

.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

I drew a blank on this question for a good fifteen minutes because I always think I'm not a dialogue person but then how could I forget this?

‘He just stood there, next to me in the garden, watching the gnomes. He said that you were seventeen, that you were his best mate’s kid. That you used to burp on his shoulder when you were little,’ she smiles, like the memory’s just materialising before her eyes, right there, almost within reach. ‘I told him you rarely ever sleep well,’ she adds before finally crossing his gaze. ‘That you don’t like milk in your tea. That at the time, you liked pumpkin juice, treacle tart, and kissing me.’

[ithebookhoarder]

🎄 Spending Christmas at Wayne manor (The Bat!Fam x Reader)

A/N: I said I'd be back with more Christmas content. What can I say? It's a Christmas miracle ✨ Well, more like the fact that the Christmas holidays are the first chance I've had to really sit and force myself to finish the things I've had sitting in my drafts for MONTHS... Who knew being an adult could be so time consuming 😅

Masterlist

First of all, Christmas would be a big deal at Wayne Manor. 

Like, if you don’t think Bruce is making up for all those Christmases spent alone with Alfred as a child then you have got another thing coming. 

No matter what villain decides to try and ruin the holiday with another crazy scheme, he WILL be back in time to enjoy the holidays come hell or high water. 

It has led to some great shots on TV of the Joker sitting outside the GCPD come Christmas morning, wrapped ornately in a bow. 

Each of you would have a stocking over the fireplace in the main hall, even if you don’t celebrate the holiday. It’s more of a commemorative event in the Wayne family anyway, offering everyone a rare chance to act like a normal-ish family for once and having your name up amongst everyone else’s makes you feel oddly gooey and warm inside. 

As does the sight of the MASSIVE tree sitting in the main Hall, absolutely smothered in decorations.

It’s a weird tradition, but Bruce insists that the tree is gathered from the extensive grounds surrounding the house, as it was when he was a kid. 

He enjoys watching everyone pulling decorations from the box, allowing them each to buy a new one of their own to add to the collection. 

How Alfred manages to get the star on top astounds you, but you suspect Damian (the sneaky demon) had something to do with it. 

Which is odd, as Damian hates the holidays - or so he says. 

He even threatens to try and stab Jason when he tries to put him in an ugly Christmas sweater for the family Christmas card photo.   

Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love getting gifts. In fact, he tries to act aloof but you notice him smiling to himself later on, after he opens the gift you bought for him. 

“See Todd - my gift is the best. I told you they like me most!”

He’s also very proud to give you his gift in return, having prided himself on getting the one thing you most wanted after you briefly mentioned it months ago. 

“Unlike the others, I actually pay attention and remember things.” 

Like how he also remembers to avoid all the places Jason sneakily hid mistletoe in the hopes of catching people out at the holiday party. 

You are not so lucky. 

Speaking of, Jason would be banned from making drinks after his first round of egg-nog almost blinds you all.

“I’m simply putting the merry in merry Christmas!” He’d argue, but Bruce would simply glare and swipe the key to the liquor cabinet, grumbling about why he ever thought adopting annoying teenagers was a good idea. 

Alfred patiently tolerating carnage as you all try to help with baking holiday goods. Flying flour and slipping over egg yolks is practically a tradition by this point

However, you are all banned from the kitchen when it’s time for him to prepare Christmas dinner. It’s a military operation for this one man army, and you best believe he has everything broken down on a perfectly calculated schedule. 

Not even Bruce is brave enough to get in the butler’s way.

Meanwhile, Tim would be busting the festive tunes out, knowing which songs people really hate and making sure to blast them on repeat. 

He’s also the one trying to get you all to play a game or something, even if he full well knows Monopoly has been banned in this house for a reason. 

Dick ends up trying to be the peacemaker after world war three nearly breaks out after a rather heated round of charades. 

Thankfully, dinner would interrupt you all and peace would reign long enough for you all to devour the feast Alfred has put together.

You even hold it together long enough for Bruce to attempt his usual holiday toast, before he eventually gives up after being heckled one too many times. 

You then follow dinner with a movie marathon together, whilst Alfred insists on cleaning up after everyone. You have a usual list of movies that you all can agree on watching, cued up and ready to go. 

To be honest, it’s probably the best part of the day as everyone sits there, drowsy from a full belly, and laughing at some cheesy movie playing on the screen. 

It’s never a surprise that you all end up passing out later in the evening. In fact, Bruce and Alfred think it’s the most magical moment, watching you all asleep on one another (they have taken many a picture to treasure the rare moment)

They also tuck you all under blankets with a fond smile, before wishing you a very merry Christmas. 

[rouecentric]

*Slides in while doing the Moonwalk* Sup, dropping a request >=DD

Platonic!I Became The Male Lead's Adopted Daughter with Sirin!Reader.

Reader is in the same orphanage as Leo and is one of the oldest kids in there every child look up to them as their sibling.

She possess a lot of Honkai Energy that is only stabilized when she's calm, and Honkai Energy Wielders are very rare they are highly sought after.

[I don't remember the Duke's name, was it Phileo? I'll call him Duke instead]

The Duke found Leo and them when he sensed a high amount of Honkai Energy + The Beast's Fangs on the two and boom! Adopted.

Now instead of their one notorious murderous kid the Dukedom has two notorious kids!

Pretty cool =DD

ria, i am in love with your *insert honkai character name*-like!reader requests /srs

lowercase intended, crackfic hc's written seriously so i could more quickly publish my drafts!!

i also decided to mash together pre-experiment!sirin's and experiment!sirin's personality's together.

unrelated to this post, but: i also write non-yandere posts yall!! but since no one probably knew that, i'll keep this post as a yandere one

important!!: please don't support the author of the novel, they turned out to be racist & islamophobic, so read the manhwa and/or novel illegaly

!!!SPOILER WARNING!!!

-okay, first of all, how did noone sense your huge honkai energy?? you probably taught yourself how to calm down and had anger management, and even then how did you keep calm when the staff weren't even that great? you obviously hid in the trees when anything bad were to happen, only coming back after calming down and helping the kids

-the younger orphanage kids saw you as a big sister and second parent, it was bound to happen, really! you were really kind and caring, but if provoked or threatened, you become terrifying, literally

-leonia also thought of you as an older sister, and also the male lead's originally adopted child

-leonia thought highly of you, you took most of the punishment for leonia instead of her taking it by your own request, you also gave most of your food to her, as well

-when leonia read the novel in her past life, her favorite character was unexplainably you, the male lead's adopted child and one of the only characters with high honkai energy, and his niece

-so when phileo almost left, leo ran up to him while she DRAGGED you with her away from the man and told phileo to adopt the both of you

-when he threatened leo, you immediately stepped up in front of her and gave your best glare, accidentally showing your unnaturally high honkai energy and baring your beast's fang

-so, yeah! after that, you and leo became a duke's children bc she dragged you and you defended her from some ugly looking guy that worked in the orphanage and had a stare off with phileo, your middle name that the duke gave you was sirin

-when the three of you stopped at an inn per dame levipath's suggestion, you were quiet the entire time, only talking when being talked to or when you feel that was needed you definitely had to always defend leo when the duke was being an ass

-but when you arrived at the dukedom and reached the manor? you were astonished, that house was huge as hell!

-you were caught off guard when the duke asked for you and leonia to act cute once a day and if you two did, he'd give the two of you prize, which turned out to be milk strawberry candy

-when you and leo were informed that the "guests" arrived, you were kind of nervous, although leo was strong, confident and bold, she was still a child and you didn't know how she'd act not you disregarding the fact you're also a child..

-of course, your worry quickly died down when leonia openly treated them like shit, even going as far as to tell the duke how to torture them

-when phileo brought you and leo and saw her perverted personality firsthand, you were definitely shocked, like: "leo?? tf is u on.. did you eat something? are you even the girl i know???"

-okok this post didnt have any yandere stuff as of now let's just get to it

-phileo is extremelypretty overbearing and possesive, no talking to boys, actually, no talking to anyone that isn't him, leonia, and the staff

-leonia was rather manipulative, clingy, possesive and worshippy from the start, she didn't want the orphanage workers to harm you, but you took half of her beatings! you were truly a kind child

-leo doesn't want you to have friends, isn't she, mr, the staff and the orphanage kids enough?

-they probably usually lock you in the house and your room

-although rupert was disappointed that he couldn't adopt you before phileo could, he still treats you like his own child, of course, he also tries to gaslight you(probably succeeds??)

-your punishments are being locked in a dark cold room, not being allowed any interaction

-tbh you probs thought this was normal, you grew up in an abusive place and got adopted into an even worse place

-no, you're not allowed to go to banquets

-you're not even allowed to leave the boleoti mansion and the owned plot around it 💀

-duke boleoti probably finds a way to surpress your honkai energy, if anyone found out about your high honkai energy, then you'd be taken from him and leo

[whyareyouhere66]

Jack Kelly x GN Reader - Love at your Convenience 

Jack Kelly x Gender Neutral Reader

Angst (?)

Inspired by the song ‘Love at your Convenience’ by Ghost of Paul Revere

It’s not that in-character for Jack, but I wanted to do it with the Newsies and he was the only guy I could think of while writing it- this has been in drafts for weeks. 

Y’know, at first it took him a while to fully open up to you. It didn’t matter how many times you’d find him wandering the Manhattan streets alone during those first 3 months of the relationship, he’d would always brush off any questions, throw an arm around your shoulder and a kiss to your cheek, and continue on with a sly change of subject.

You wanted him to trust you, truly. In fact you remember secretly being glad when he opened up to you for the first time. 

But now that he finally did, you realize that perhaps you should’ve been more specific when you said “you can always come to me- always”.

Nearly every night of the week, he’d climb in through the window with a whole speech ready about something he did not agree with that day. 

“Conlon keeps selling on the bridge- we agreed against it!”

“These greedy old rich guys can’t appreciate talent”

“They should be raising the price for customers- not the kids tryna sell em. Pulitzer must be patting himself on the back now, huh.”

On and on all the time about the same things, over and over. You had meant maybe when he was feeling down, needed a cheering up. Not angrily planning entire protests against the rich. 

But, he was your partner and you loved him. To you- if you didn’t let him rant about these things then what kind of lover where you? 

But..though you tried reminding yourself of that everytime he swung one leg over the window sill, angrily glaring, you knew this couldn’t keep up much longer. 

You were burnt out, all out of encouragement. Compared to Jack, constantly running off adrenaline and that darn “peppy news-boy” front, you were the tired, “try-hard” one. 

While he paced around your small room, dirt from his shoes sticking to your carpet, letting out frustrations he couldn’t in front of the other newsies, you could do nothing more then sit on your bed and wait for him to finish. Whenever he came in real late at night, which was often, you’d lean against the wall and watch through half lidded eyes- with nothing more to offer than “mhm” and “yeah, I get that sweetheart but…”

Sometimes he’d get sick of it as well- giving an attitude to you about “not listening.” Before finally, slipping under the covers and tugging you into his chest. 

That was what used to be your favorite part.

Until you realized, that was the only time he seemed to care.

It seemed now that he had someone to vent to, that was your only use. He used to always have you at his side, now he rarely talked to you during the day. 

You used to have in-depth conversations about the sunset, comparing the one on the bridge to the one in Santa Fe. Then that evolved into you feeding into his lengthy, midnight paragraphs. Now it was nothing. 

You used to go to Medda’s shows, getting the best seats in the house and dancing wildly to her songs. Now you barely remembered how to dance at all. 

You were a journal, with pages filled up with inky words and nonsense. The leather cover was dented and scratched, pages yellowing in age as you slowly ran out of room to be written in. 

And Jack held the pen. 

Perhaps if you told him what was wrong. He might stop, or he might continue. Maybe he’d get mad at you. Probably. 

He was out at Medda’s at the moment, with the other newsies. You didn’t mind; you hoped he stayed there a bit longer. Maybe if the show ran real late, you could slip into sleep before he could climb up onto your fire escape again. 

‘Oh god, I’m horrible…’

You grimace, rolling over in your bed and onto your side. Jack didn’t deserve that, he was just trying to get some frustrations out. He worked hard, giving everything he could to those newsies.

.

.

Perhaps you just wanted him to leave something to give for you. 

A loud creak comes from your window, and when you looked over through your blurry eyes, you could see Jack stepping into the room, once again. Your hand crawls up to your face, covering your cheeks to block the salty tracks of your tears. 

Words shot from his mouth, though you were unsure if they were angry, confused, etc. You blocked him out. 

It didn’t matter none the less, the words weren’t processing in your tired brain. 

Though it wasn’t hard for you to see, that Jack seemed to not notice he was simply talking to a brick wall, of his own creation. 

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

I have a request! So Reader is curious about what Zhongli was like during the Archon war so Zhongli gives them a dream (With consent of course) where they meet Morax and reader gets fucked by him. Also Zhongli is watching too. If he manifests in the dream to join in or not is up to you.

This was the hardest fic I wrote so far because I had to think if I'd go for two dicks Zhongli or not. So anon, and everyone else, please suspend your disbelief in this fic. Yeah 4 cocks might be too much for one hole but listen as the new adage says "If there's a hole, there's a way!"

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Summary: A simple question borne out of curiosity leads you to experience a side of Zhongli that no historian had never even thought of.

It started from an innocuous question, one borne from curiosity and genuine desire to know more about him.

“What were you like, during the Archon Wars?” You had asked, the midday sun shining brightly through the bamboo leaves on the roads of Qingce.

Your hair fluttered in the soft winds, your silver bell tinkling with each step you took as it fluttered from the sides of your sash.

“Unpleasant” He had answered after a beat, he stopped observing you and looked forward, blankly staring at the road as he remembered the way he was.

Just as cold and as unfeeling as the rocks he had come from.

“Hmmm…”

Your curious tone became on the receiving end of his inquisitive look. You smiled at him, gentle and just shy of being embarrassed, “I think, you would have no patience for my usual antics. Had you been unfortunate enough to have met me then.”

“Perhaps,” Zhongli agreed but silently he thought, ‘I would have still come to like you.’

You laughed at his agreement, oblivious to his silent thoughts, “Ah~ but I feel like I would have so much fun teasing the version of you during the Archon Wars.”

“I bet you were so uptight during that time, like a stick in the mud!” You continued in playful banter, “I’d probably be the first person who’d get you so mad you’d be red in the face!”

Zhongli found amusement in the triumphant tone you held, your tone just as excited as it was when sharing theories with Miss Alice. Zhongli found comfort in that, the knowledge that even at his most scariest, and most unpleasant point in his life, you would be fond of him.

“Zhongli, do you think that if we met back then we’d be as close as we are now?” You asked him, “personally, I think that we wouldn’t be. I don’t think I would have been able to survive the aftermath of the Archon Wars.”

Zhongli paused in his walking, his joy washed away in your rationality.

“What makes you so sure of it?” He asked, ‘I would have protected you.’

You gave him a soft smile, “We wouldn’t have gotten along, I would probably punch you in the face. And then you’d get mad for the disrespect.”

Your laughter rang in his ears, as if mocking his sentiments even if he knew that your words held a modicum of truth in it. Back then, he had no qualms on dirtying his hands, no matter how gentle he tried to be, he never wavered in face of difficult decisions, always choosing the best option that would lead to victory.

How would he have reacted to you, who fought and found answers beyond what was given, always seeking a third option that would ensure a happy end. You were not meant for war, your ideals and kindness would have no place in those cruel times.

Even so, Zhongli wanted to prove you wrong.

“Then, shall we place a bet?”

“A bet?” You asked, eyes glinting in anticipation of a boon.

“Yes. I shall give you a dream, of sorts, that can transcend through time.”

“Ooooh~! Another one of those adepti arts, I presume?”

“Yes. I would let you meet the version of me before the height of the Archon Wars” Zhongli began to explain, “then if we manage to be as close as we are now, I have won the bet. If that version of me ends up loathing you, I acquiesce to your belief.”

“And what do I get if I win?” You asked.

“Whatever you wish for” He answered, eyes shining bright like cor lapis.

“Deal.”

--

The golden leaves of the gingko trees fluttered as it fell down to the ground. Morax sat on one of the edges on the numerous outcrops of Qingyun Peak. It was a rare moment of peace, there was no imminent danger that needed to be quelled. Liyue was in momentary peace. He sighed and let himself relax, enjoying the solitude up until he heard the soft sound of someone landing nearby.

In an instant he appeared before a human who wore strange clothing. He pointed his spear at them, “Speak, why do you trespass on the grounds of the Adepti?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, slowly getting up as you patted the grass and dust off your clothes, “Damn, Zhongli wasn’t really kidding when he said you were too wounded up.”

Morax frowned at your impudence, “Mortal, that is not the way to speak to the Prime Adep-”

You raised your arm towards him, interrupting him as you offered, “Osmanthus wine! I’ll share it with you if you don’t get mad at me!”

Your wide smile, warm and inviting made him uneasy. An unknown feeling bursting in his chest as he stared into glinting eyes.

“Impudent” He said before moving to capture you and bring you down the mountain.

Despite moving at a speed impossible for a human to match, you had effortlessly evaded his hands. Your laughter rang loudly in the open field, teasing and amused. Zhongli frowned and quickly gave chase and yet you eluded him, teasing him by purposely letting him almost grab the hem of your sleeves only to speed up at the last possible second before appearing far away from him in another direction.

Frustration building up, Zhongli decided to use his geo to block your path, slowly studying your moves so as to anticipate where you would move. It went on and on, erecting stone steeles to block your path until you were caged and nowhere to run.

“Uwaa~” You panted, a mild tone of complaint seeping into your voice“How come you can’t even have tenderhearted feelings for this weak human?”

Morax frowned at your blatant lies, “No human would be able to match the speed and energy of an adepti the way you do.”

You gave him an amused smile, sweat dripping down your face, “That you’ve met. Have you ever made it out of Liyue?”

Morax didn’t answer, stony gaze boring down on you.

“Aiya~ what a tough crowd…” You trailed off and yet the smile on your face never wavered, “but if you keep up such an attitude towards me~ I’ll win the bet and have an adepti answer my whim~”

“What tricks have you done, mortal!” Morax pointed his spear at your throat.

Your smug look never wavered, “Ahahaha, I did no tricks Lord Adeptus~”

“Lies!” He denounced, “What sort of charm did you use to seduce one of my own?!”

“Seduce?” You blinked at him owlishly before a wide grin broke out on your face, “Oh, oh! You think I’m seductive?”

You pushed his spear away, sauntered to him, pressing your chest close to his, arms wrapping on his neck. With a voice dripping in honey and seduction, you whispered in his ear, “Does Lord Adeptus find me pleasing to his taste? Would you like to have a taste of me?”

Your lips moved to his exposed thoat, kissing the apple of it. Morax felt some sort of stirring within him, convinced that you had placed him in a trap, he pushed you off unconsciously gentle with his grip, “What sort of spell have you casted?!”

Your laughter, soft and oddly fond, made him uncomfortable. A feeling that he could not name settling in his bones. His chest was warm as he stared on the way the soft afternoon light shone on you, casting you in warm orange light as you laughed uncontrollably.

“No spell, just utterly charming in your eyes” You answered, fluttering your eyelids and gracing him with a smile he often found among the numerous brothels on Chihu Rock.

“Shameless!” He admonished as he took out a talisman and withit binded you.

“Oh~ How kinky~” You said with amusement as if you felt no danger.

‘Foolish mortal’ Morax thought privately as he pulled you along to begin the trek down the mountain only to stumble upon your next words.

“Does Lord Adeptus plan to have his wicked way with me then? Bring me somewhere secluded and show me the might of his jade pillar?”

“You! You! You!” Morax found himself at loss for words.

“Adepti would never stoop to such a barbaric act!”

“Oh” Your disappointed voice only served to confuse him, until you uttered your next accursed words, “I wouldn’t have minded if it was you~”

A wink sent his way accompanied by the odd motion of your lips had his face beet red. It was the first time he had ever suffered such a loss. Embarrassment gave way to anger when he heard your laughter, his hand moved to curse you until another voice stopped his movements.

“Must you resort to such means, to win our bet?”

Your smile brightened up as you saw Zhongli walk in the clearing, wearing his archon clothes. His hair swayed in the wind, gentle smile plastered on his face despite the chiding tone of his voice.

“But the appeal of having you indebted to me was too much to resist!” You answered with a jovial grin that made Morax pause.

“More of you?” Morax asked with great annoyance until he realized how much similarity he had shared with the new “guest”.

A split second was all it took before you found yourself encased in Zhongli’s familiar arms, his strong shield surrounding you both as Morax’ vortex vanquisher hit the shield. You blinked, slightly rattled but still relatively calm as if you weren’t just about to be skewered by the Lord of Geo.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, concern evident but you remained staring at Morax.

“Zhongli~ I’m starting to understand why you think I’d get along with this version of you!”

You grinned, eyes no longer glinting with plastic curiosity. Zhongli sighed and resigned to whatever consequence would be the outcome of your action.

It took several terse talks between Zhongli and Morax to draft an acceptable contract between the two of you and Morax. All of it just to accompany Morax in his day to day life. Zhongli found himself frequently being on the receiving end of a spear, or in some cases a glower from the amount of times you had teased his stubborn and unpleasant past self.

However, Zhongli could not deny that this version of him was growing fond of you, soft even, with the way Morax would occasionally gently steer you away from the geo vishaps or the rare times he would bring you to Azhdaha to play with the large geo dragon.

Though this soft moment would always, almost, be followed by your teasing. Zhongli wasn’t even spared from your flirtatious remarks though he did have the advantage of knowing you longer, thus he was able to render you speechless more often than not when compared to Morax. But from the past few days, Zhongli could see how Morax was learning and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you would be rendered speechless by Morax as well.

Thus, the three of you spent the days in simple fun, getting to know each other, sharing battles and each moment Zhongli spent observing how you acted with Morax brought him some sort of warmth, happiness at your acceptance and your rationality during such troubled times. It was true that your kindness would not have survived but Zhongli could see that if you truly had lived in this time, your kindness would have just taken another form, adapting and yet remaining all the same.

You were a safe haven, for him, for Morax, and for those who met you in this troubled times. A human who stubbornly remained kind, who audaciously declared that even Celestia could be wrong. This side of you that remained hidden in the present times, flourished like a well cared for silk flower.

Therefore, it really should not have surprised him to see Morax begin courting you, not that you noticed, and yet it did. Surprise and discontent warring inside him, both claiming that you were his and one discrediting his former self. He figured that the same thing was most likely happening with Morax, from the dangerous glint in the other’s eye when he drew close to you or held you by the waist.

--

Somewhere between teasing Morax and having Zhongli recount his past through the various strolls you took in Liyue Harbor, you noticed the almost possessive way Morax would act towards you, the barely kept aggressiveness directed to Zhongli whenever he would care for you or the occasional soft growls towards threats you didn’t even notice.

It was fascinating to watch him, and you made no secret of it. So a part of you couldn’t help but blame yourself for provoking a dragon. Really, what sort of person says, “I can take you” to a god of war?

“Me, apparently” You thought with great regret and annoyance as you found yourself benign subjected to the intense bedroom look of Morax.

“Can you?” Morax purred, eyes glinting with something primal and you can’t help but be entranced.

You have always been drawn to beautiful and dangerous things.

In contrast to his predator smile, his kiss was gentle but no less passionate than your previous lovers. Morax’ grip on your body was firm but gentle, bringing you close to his rock hard body. You gripped his clothes as you opened your mouth wider, letting his inhuman tongue explore your mouth.

In the privacy of his abode, you didn’t hesitate to tangle with him. Battling for dominance in the bed, a passionate dance of desire that had the dragon in him purring in delight. Morax bit your neck and you moaned in pleasure before making the split decision to bite him back.

Your clothes were askew, private parts exposed to the cold air and you returned the favor to Morax. His hair was untied and his thick cocks sprung out as soon as your hands pulled down his pants. In a fluid movement, you easily took both of his cocks inside your mouth.

Morax, who had never experienced such a thing, felt his heart quicken just as his arousal rose once more. It was a testament for his new found feelings towards you that he let his guard down and lost himself to the sensation of your tongue and mouth as it sucked him off. His hand clasped the back of your neck and held you still as he began fucking your mouth.

Your moans of pleasure made wonderful vibrations that intensified his arousal, drool dribbled down on the side of your lips as you slowly lost yourself to the haze of pleasure. His bed shook with each vigorous thrust that hit the back of your throat, he stilled inside your mouth, his cocks managing to not make gag as it spilled thick loads of cum down your throat.

Morax smirked at you and you smiled back, lazy and challenging. He laid you on the bed, body naked as the day you were born. Despite his recent orgasm, his cocks were still erect and throbbing, you bit your lip in anticipation.

Legs spread wide, exposing your hole that was calling out for his cocks with each twitch that was visible in Morax’ eyes, you were the picture of desire. Morax swore as soon as he plunged his cocks inside your tight and warm hole, you moaned feeling as if you had ascended to Celestia itself when his cocks stretched your hole. The burn, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

He moved slowly, coaxing you with sweet words as you cried out in pain and pleasure until the only feeling left was pleasure. For all of his inexperience, Morax was good at reading people and body language, and yours was the easiest he had read. It took him barely a minute before he was able to accurately tell which parts sent you to a high, which part of you brought forth more arousal.

He sucked on your tits as he thrusted into you, hitting your sensitive spot that had you moaning and begging his name. Your lustful moans felt more devoted than any other prayer he had received from his people. Your kisses felt more divine than any offering he had ever tasted.

If there had been another way to reach Divinity, Morax had no doubt that making love with you was one of them. Each touch from you sent his body aflame, each call of his name made him feel more of a god that he wasn’t.

Oh! How he wanted to drown in you for eternity until erosion came for him. He wanted you in all the ways he never understood, each particle of his cell calling out to yours, and Morax felt it too much so he poured each and every emotion you made him feel in fucking you. He fucked you as if to brand himself in you in all the ways that matter. He plunged his cocks inside you again and again, bringing you countless orgasms as you submissively let him maneuver your body however he wanted.

He fucked you from behind, thrusting hard enough to leave marks on your buttocks, spilling his seed again and again without stopping his thrusts as you came again and again.

He fucked you sideways, spreading your legs high and wide, as his mouth kissed and bit your neck, his hand pinching and twisting your nipples while his cocks slid in and out of your hole that was overflowing with his seed. He broke you apart with each round and mended you over and over again until you lost count of the times you came.

Both of you were so focused on each other that neither of you noticed the arrival of Zhongli.

And what a sight it was to behold, the way your body contorted in half as he watched Morax impale you with his cock again and again, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Zhongli felt his cock stir, quickly hardening as the lewd sounds of flesh clapping echoed loudly, he moved slowly as he divested himself of his clothes until he reached the side of the bed just as you and Morax laid on the bed, panting from the most recent orgasm.

He observed your body seeing the marks and bruises that littered it on top of the numerous drying flecks of cum on your skin. He swallowed his saliva and spoke,

“Perhaps there is room for one more?”

And your smile, inviting and sparkling at the thought of another challenge, made him breathless and helplessly fond of you all over again. The continuous and seemingly never ending cycle of him falling for you over and over again was one he would never tire of.

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?” You said, positioning yourself to lie on Morax as you spread your legs once more, hands going to your hole and spreading it for Zhongli to properly appreciate.

You felt Morax’ cum dribble down just as you felt his displease growl.

“I bet I can take the two of you at once”

There was no such thing as a medicine for regret, and it was one you had no need for. Not when two predatory glint brought you to a new height of pleasure.

Zhongli’s thrust was just as hard if not rougher than Morax, as if he was releasing centuries of frustrations to your abused hole, not that you were complaining. You were already lost to the pleasure of their cocks filling you and stretching you, all semblance of rationality thrown away as you begged for their cocks.

Zhongli’s cocks fucked your hole, easily slipping in and out from the cocks it had been receiving from Morax, Zhongli’s cocks were thicker but shorter when compared to Morax. Despite that his skillful thrust had you clamping and twisting as your mouth busied itself with Morax’ cocks.

Between the two of them, not a single part of you remained untouched. Your body was stained with their love, their marks littering every inch of your skin, their hands leaving bruises on your skin as you sank deeper and deeper into them. The overpowering scent of cum filled your senses as Zhongli and Morax threw away their rationality and began to fuck you like beasts in heat.

The fact that you could take them both at once, was proven true, with the way your holes relentlessly sought their cocks, how you ignored your bruised knees just to get into a better position for them. And it pleased them terribly, made them want you more. To make you theirs permanently and for as long as they breathe. It made them fuck you harder, just to reach deeper inside you, spilling their thick cum inside you until it over flowed.

You moaned, joy mixing with pleasure as you came just as they filled you to the brim. White spots filling your vision until you finally passed out. Your body remained responsive, your hole twitching as Zhongli continued fucking you through your orgasm.

Morax grinned, animalistic, as he took his cocks and smeared the remaining cum on your lips and then spreading it on your face, “You really could take us both at once.”

His cum spilled from the slight gap in your mouth, his thumb gently pushed it back inside before he turned to Zhongli, “Shall we see if they can take all of our cocks in one hole?”

Zhongli stilled as he spilled more of his cum inside, then he answered, “Let’s see how long it takes before they wake up as well.”

The two of them worked together, loosening your hole until it was able to fit four cocks inside, your walls spasmed with every thrust as your let out unconscious moans with the immense amount of pleasure from having four cocks inside you. Your unconscious and limp body was sandwiched between Zhongli and Morax, your nipples played with until it was sore and overly stimulated. The two of them didn’t stop fucking you until your stomach was filled with their cum, their cocks repeatedly penetrated you, thrusting inside you again and again until they had their fill.

Their cum created pools of semen on the bed sheets, some of it on the floor when the two decided to switch positions, trying out different positions with your unconscious but eager body until they were satisfied. By the time you woke up it was already afternoon of the next day, your body utterly sore from all the sex it went through.

You blinked and realized that there was someone sleeping beside you, a quick glance on the side and you recognized Zhongli, ‘The dream must have already ended’ you thought as you slowly got up from the bed.

Except your legs could barely stand, making you fall into the floor in a flash. You blinked, your mind not registering the pain but instead focusing on the feeling of something warm dripping down from between your thighs.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli asked, the vestiges of sleep clinging on his eyes, as he frantically assisted you back to the bed.

His torso was filled with scratches and bite marks. You flushed with embarrassment as you recognized the marks you left on him.

“I-just what happened after I passed out?”

“The first or the second one?”

“?”

Zhongli smiled tenderly at you, “It’s alright if you can’t remember, I’m sure another round would jog your memory.”

Like a magic trick, his words had your hole eagerly twitching with anticipation. Coyly you lied back on the bed and spread your legs, showing him your glistening, cum filled hole.

“Perhaps” You agreed with a seductive smile, “I’m sure I can take you well.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

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

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

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

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

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

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

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

You know what ? 

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

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

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

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

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

Yes. Time. 

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

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.” 

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

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

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

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

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bruce remembered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

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

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

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

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

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

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

There was no need for words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You went down to the kitchen and... 

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart tightened. 

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

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

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

“Ice cream ?” 

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

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

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

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

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

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

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

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

He often thought about it. 

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

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

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

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

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

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

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

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

“Jason !” 

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

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

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

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

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

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

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

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

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

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

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

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

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

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

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

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

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

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

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

“Bruce...” 

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

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

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

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

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

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

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

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

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

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

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

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

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

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never give up. 

Love. 

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

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

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

You never give up. 

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

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

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

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

And you got your son back.

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

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

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

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

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

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

TIM 

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

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

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

“But you’re not my mom.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

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

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

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

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

It hurt so much. 

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

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

“What happened ?” 

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

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

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

“Oh...” 

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

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

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

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

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

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

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

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

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

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

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

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

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

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

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You, not my mom !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

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

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

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

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

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

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

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

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

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

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

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

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

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

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

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

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not my real mom !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

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

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

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

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

They knew that, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry mom...” 

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

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

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

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

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

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

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

“Family...”

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

DAMIAN 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like his father. 

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

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

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

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

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, my little one...” 

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

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

DUKE 

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t bear it...

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

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

Not today. 

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

The guilt. 

Right away.

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

But Duke. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

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

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

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

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

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

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

And you were there.

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

BRUCE 

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

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

It enhanced everything. 

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

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

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

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

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

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

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

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

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

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

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

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

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

[occasionalsnippets]

Welp since you said it yourself

Ancient eldritch mc and Bright meeting or reunion and it's comedic

The Forest [And You] (Ancient Eldritch AU)

Anomalous AU M. List

A/N: Actually had this started in my drafts like a week or so ago (before starting requests) but finally got a push to finish it

Pairing: Gen, Dr. Bright & Reader

---

A forest was hardly a place for a child to get lost in but it seemed it happened more often than not when it came to your forest. You were always a little cursed, you’d admit, but you would think people wouldn’t let their kids wander into strange forests all too often, would they?

So, pray tell, why was there another child in your forest?

“Are you lost?” you asked.

Big green eyes stared up at you. The kid was fairly small, maybe 5 years old and had red hair. His hands and knees were covered in dirt but he didn’t seem to have any injuries.

“Uh huh.” The kid nodded. “How ‘bout you?”

You shrugged. “No. I know my way out of here. How’d you get here?”

“Walked off.”

Okay. That happened more often than you would’ve liked to admit when it came to kids. Short attention spans, finding interesting things, etc, etc. A not-quite-a-deer leaped through the trees behind the kid. Right, you probably shouldn’t let him stick around this forest for too long.

“Would you like to leave here?”

He tilted his head and gave a long hum in thought. “Okay.”

You held your hand out. The ground sank under your foot and the shadows curled and rested against you. “Let’s get going then, best not to stay out too late here.”

The forest was rarely kind to intruders after the sun set after all.

—

The kid was pretty talkative.

He had an older brother who dressed like a cowboy, a father who worked late all the time and a mother who was pregnant (funny, that sounded familiar to you). You had asked whether he wanted a little brother or sister only for him to say maybe both.

How cute.

At some point, the kid had gotten tired of walking. You, being weak as ever to children, agreed to carry him to the edge of the forest. Soon enough, you had reached the edge of the forest, the closest one with roads, at least.

“Does this look like the way you came in?” you asked, setting the kid down.

“Yup!” He pointed at a store across the road as a car rushed by. “That’s the store me and big brother were at.”

“He must be worried,” you commented.

“Mhm. Will I see you again?”

You hummed. “Likely not. Don’t be too familiar with strangers, not all of them are kind.”

“Huh.” He tilted his head. “You’re kinda a weird person.”

“The weirdest,” you agreed. The sun was beginning to set. It was going to start getting dark soon. Another car rushed by the two of you. “Be careful when crossing the road, kid.”

He laughed as you ruffled his hair lightly. “I will!”

“Take care, then.” You gently nudged him away from the forest. “And do try not to get lost again.”

“Bye bye!”

“Goodbye.”

And as the kid crossed the road, you disappeared back into the forest, leaving not a single trace behind, not even a footprint.

---

There were always remains of memories that Bright had never quite grasped that stayed at the back of his mind.

A forest with plants that had roots far too long to be normal and animals that didn’t look quite right. The trees that let light stream through at first, only to shift and move to cover the sun the further he went in. Bright had almost been convinced it was a dream when he was younger.

He had gone back around the edge of the forest several times after the inciting incident, wondering if he would find you who guided him out again, but he never went into the forest. Strange how the warnings stayed even after you were gone. 

You.

Even with the hazy memories, he remembered you. Your strange words, how warm your embrace was, the way the forest shifted and moved to accommodate you, how the ground pulsed in your presence. Part of him wondered how much it was a fragment of his imagination and how much was real.

Bright hadn’t realized it back then when he first ventured in, nor had he realized while working for the foundation, the incident long since pushed to the back of his mind by then. An anomaly. That was what the forest and likely you, were. Something out of the ordinary. Something that, potentially, wasn’t meant to exist.

Now, as he stood before the forest with branches like spindly limbs, he thought that, perhaps, it was time to pay a visit to something nearly a childhood memory again.

[fireflykaizoku]

Kid x Reader | Take care of me

i wanted a fluff for some comfort today, so i finished this oneshot that was on my drafts for a while

Eustass Kid was always proud and confident. Proud of his power, strength and skills. He rarely had time to have any doubts that he could fight anyone, to sail the New World and to be Pirate King. However, things changed the moment he lost the fight against Shanks. His crew got hurt, you got hurt. The moment he lost his arm and got severely injured, all the insecurities hit him at once. Could he protect his friends? Could he protect you? Was he a good captain if he let this happen? Did his crew still trust him even though he didn’t believe in himself as much as he used to?

Trying to avoid the thoughts, the looks of pity and the questioning looks, Kid locked himself in his workshop for as long as he could, only leaving once in a while when everyone was busy or asleep. You gave your boyfriend some time, knowing that what happened wasn’t easy for any of the Kid Pirates, but especially for him.

It was one of those nights, you were long asleep when Kid went back to your shared room after staying in his workshop for hours again. You couldn’t help waking up due the not so subtle sounds of the door opening and of your boyfriend removing his boots and clothes. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat on the bed, staring at the wall and hiding his face in his hand.

— Baby? — your sleepy voice broke the silence, no reply. — What’s on your mind? — you whispered, crawling towards him, hugging the man from behind.

The redhead’s body, tense at first, relaxed under your touch. Kid didn’t say anything for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt. After all, he was never a man of words, especially emotional words. He never showed any hint of sadness, weakness or even regret.

— Nothing… — he sighed, squeezing your small hands with his big and calloused hand. Your soft hands always made him remember that he was human, and that apparently, for some reason, someone out there loved him even with the flaws he seemed to have. — Don’t worry, kitten. Go back to sleep.

— I don’t know about that… You’ve been thinking a lot lately, distant from us, from me… — you continued, hiding your face against his naked back, feeling the warmth of his skin. — I can tell something is bothering you. You can be a mysterious man about your feelings, Eustass Kid, but I think I know you well by now.

The captain couldn’t help letting out a husky chuckle. You weren’t wrong. You knew him well enough, almost as well as Killer did. Kid closed his eyes, simply enjoying your gentle touches for a moment.

— I failed. — was all he said. He didn’t need to elaborate, you knew what he meant and you knew he wouldn’t say anything else. — Come here… — you sat on the bed, resting your back against the wooden headboard. Kid felt the absence of your warm embrace when the cold air of the ship hit his skin. He turned back to look at you with a questioning look. — Just come here… — you repeated, patting on your lap. A bit hesitant at first, Kid crawled in front of you, resting his head on your thighs and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. Some tasks, even the simplest ones, were difficult for him. That’s why Eustass was spending so much time working, trying to build a new arm. He didn't want to depend on people to shower, to eat and to do whatever he used to do before.

— To me, you’ll always be the strongest pirate, captain and boyfriend. I never doubted your strength, and I never will. — you caressed his surprisingly soft red locks, not something you’d expect from him. — You’ll find the One Piece and you’ll be the Pirate King someday, I’m sure. And I’ll be here next to you when it happens.

Kid nodded, trying his best to believe your words. The man was feeling relaxed in one of the rare moments when he let himself show a more vulnerable side of him. Kid hated to feel weak, fragile and “small”. He felt like he needed to take care of you, to protect you. But when it was just the both of you in the intimacy of your room, the strong Supernova didn’t mind letting you take care of him just once. After all, it felt nice to be taken care of for a change.

[blueskrugs]

Jump Then Fall | Jack Hughes

I am eternally soft for this kid, okay. this is not the original birthweek fic I had planned for him, but it is a bonus Swift Fic because I couldn't help myself. enjoy while I work on getting my shit together for the summer!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like

length: 2k words

High school relationships never worked out. That’s what they always told you, at least, when you and Jack were young and in love. And they were right, sort of. You’d broken up not long after you’d both graduated, with Jack off to be drafted and you off to college. Except you’d stayed close, texting and talking on the phone often once Jack had headed off to New Jersey. He was one of your best friends, and you were thankful he was still in your life, but you weren’t sure you’d ever stop loving him, not really.

I like the way you sound in the morning We're on the phone and without a warning I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

Saturday mornings always meant long phone calls with Jack. You’d both wake up early and make coffee before spending most of the morning on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes you wished more than anything that you could see his face, but you weren’t sure what would come spilling out of your mouth when you saw him.

One cold morning in December, you were pretty sure Jack had still been asleep when you called. His voice was slow and rough when he spoke, but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

When you heard him yawn, big enough his jaw cracked, you laughed. “Am I keeping you awake?” you asked.

Jack rushed to answer, “No, never.”

“Jack,” you warned.

Jack laughed. “We got in late last night, I’m just a little tired, I’m fine,” he told you.

“I can let you go back to sleep,” you said.

You heard Jack sit up on the other end of the line. “No way, absolutely not,” he said.

“We’re not even talking about anything important.” You’d mostly been stressing about the end of the semester.

“So? I like talking to you,” Jack argued.

You sighed. “You’re an idiot,” but it came out more fond than annoyed.

Somehow, that phone call lasted almost two more hours. Later, you wouldn’t remember what dumb thing you’d quipped that had made Jack burst out laughing, but you’d always remember the sound of that laugh. You’d wished you’d been able to record it, to have it to listen to on rough days, on days you missed Jack a little extra.

I hear the words but all I can think is We should be together

Jack was telling some story about his teammates. You were only half-listening, paying more attention to his face as he talked. It was late, and Quinn and Jack were home for Christmas. You and the three Hughes boys had taken over the basement for the night. Quinn and Luke were sprawled out on the couch opposite you, and you were buried under several blankets with your feet in Jack’s lap. He was using one hand to help illustrate his story, but the other was resting on your ankle, warm despite the chill outside, his thumb absently rubbing against your bare skin.

Quinn threw a balled up napkin at you, jolting you back to reality. “What’re you thinking about over there?” he asked.

“What?” You threw the napkin back at Quinn.

Luke chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s not that funny, there’s no way you’re smiling at him.”

“Hey!” Jack protested. You dug your heel into his thigh, and he turned to grin at you.

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. You always seemed to be smiling when you were around Jack, you couldn’t help it.

“Just missed you guys,” you said, grinning back at Jack.

Jack squeezed your ankle and went back to telling his story. You still weren’t listening.

Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face You got the keys to me I love each freckle on your face, oh

When Jack first started growing his hair out, you hated it.

“No, why,” you said the first time you saw him that summer. Luke laughed from somewhere behind you.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and smirked at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You love my hair.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I’ve changed my mind,” you said.

Jack squawked, outraged and offended. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close as you giggled and tried to get away. “You’ll pay for that,” he told you. You dug your elbow into his ribs until he let go of you.

Later that night found the two of you left alone near the bonfire as the sun went down.

“Hey,” Jack said. You locked your phone and tilted your head back to look up at him upside down. “Do you really not like the hair?” he asked.

You snorted. “Would you cut it if I said I didn’t?” Jack shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. You sat up and twisted to look at Jack properly. “You wouldn’t, oh my God.” It was hard to tell, but he might’ve been blushing in the fading light,

“Just tell me the truth,” he said.

You looked at Jack, really looked at him. He was tan, a new burst of freckles dusted across his nose. He’d shoved a hat on since you’d first seen him earlier in the day, but you could still see how his hair was just beginning to curl at the ends past the nape of his neck. Jack stared back at you, blue eyes dark.

“I guess I could get used to it,” you said.

Honestly, you were so gone for him, you were pretty sure you’d end up still liking him no matter what he looked like.

When people say things that bring you to your knees I'll catch you

Sometimes you didn’t know how Jack put up with it all. From losing streaks to being called a draft bust to people questioning whether he was capable of being a leader, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t have to deal with some bullshit. You knew it wasn’t easy, but he rarely let it get to him. Rarely, but not never.

It didn’t surprise you when your phone rang after a rough game. You answered the FaceTime call without thinking about it, smiling softly when Jack’s face filled your screen. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes and his hair hanging limply in his face.

“Hi, bud,” you said.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed, long and loud, scrubbing his free hand across his face. You’d been able to watch the game, had watched the blowout happen in real time, just another loss in this skid, in a season that had started out promising for once.

“I’m tired,” Jack whined.

“You look like shit,” you told him. Jack stuck his tongue out at you. “Do I need to get Ty to delete Twitter off your phone again?” you asked. Jack rolled his eyes, but you weren’t joking.

“No, I just-” Jack rubbed his eyes again. “Did you see what my plus-minus was tonight?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Oh my God, no, we’re not doing this,” you said. Sometimes Jack wanted to forget everything about a shitty game, but other nights he got frustrated and wanted to pick apart every mistake he’d made on the ice. You dragged your laptop closer to you. “C’mon, open your Netflix, we’re watching a movie.”

There was some scuffling on the other end, with Jack accidentally pointing his phone at the ceiling. “Fine, but I get to pick,” he said.

You argued half-heartedly with him for a while, but he won in the end, and you settled on some movie you’d both seen a dozen times. It was quiet while you watched, a comfortable silence, heavy with familiarity.

“Hey,” Jack said lowly as the end credits rolled later. You’d been half-sure Jack had fallen asleep on you. “Thanks.”

You smiled tiredly at him. It was late, and dark in his room, and you could barely make out his blurry form on your phone. “Anytime, Jacky,” you said, but you meant, “I love you.”

You can jump then fall, jump then fall Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah

Your doorbell rang one morning in early May. When you pulled open the front door, there was Jack, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket, standing on your parent’s front porch.

“I thought you weren’t coming home for a few weeks still,” you said, leaning against the door frame. The Devils season was over, but Jack had told you he was planning on sticking around for a while or traveling some before coming home for the summer.

Jack took one of his hands out of his pocket and ran it nervously through his hair. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, instead of responding to your non-question.

You raised an eyebrow at him. You’d known Jack for years, and you could probably count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him be nervous. “Well, don’t hurt yourself with that, bud,” you told him.

He made a face at you, but it also got him to smile. “Will you just let me-” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hey, c’mon, let’s go inside,” you said, stepping back to let Jack follow you into the house.

In the living room, the TV show you had been watching was still paused, but you both ignored it. You sat back on the couch, but Jack stayed standing, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re freaking me out a little, Jacky,” you said.

Jack sighed and sat on the floor in front of you, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “I miss you,” he said.

“Jack, we talk every day,” you told him. “I’m right here,” you added softly.

Jack huffed and ran his hands through his hair again. He laid back for a moment, staring silently up at the ceiling fan as it slowly turned above you.

“Have you ever thought about getting back together?” he asked when he sat back up.

You thought about it a lot, actually, but you just said, “Yeah.”

“Do you think we could do it?” Jack asked next.

You hesitated on that one. You’d thought that, maybe, you could’ve made it back when you were in high school, but things were so different now. You’d listened to the opinions of others so much back then, had broken up in part because you thought that it was inevitable anyway. Could you make it through all that again? You still had a few years until you graduated, and New Jersey wasn’t exactly close.

Then again, you two were as close as ever. Jack had only missed a handful of your Saturday morning phone calls, and it was always just because of hockey. He was still sitting on the floor in front of you, looking nervous as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Jack’s face fell a little. “Do you think we could try?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, just as honestly. You’d never been good at saying no to Jack, anyway.

Jack beamed, and you knew exactly why you still loved him after all this time. Jack leaned forward and tugged at your foot. “Hey, come down here,” he whined. “Wanna kiss you.”

“Or you could come up here?” Jack tugged harder. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking needy,” you laughed, but you slid off the couch and let Jack pull you into his lap.

His hands went to your waist, sliding under your T-shirt, and he smiled smugly up at you. “Hi.”

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “Hi,” you said back.

“Uh-uh, you can do better than that.” A kiss to his cheek. Jack rolled his eyes and put one of his hands on your cheek to drag you in for a real kiss. “That’s better,” he whispered, but you were already leaning in for another kiss.

[notmrskennedy]

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

#

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

#

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

#

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

#

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

#

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

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

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”