#i remembered i needed to tag them anyway so just picture tim doing his best to flirt with this oblivious stick in the mud
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Claps hands alright we’re doing this! So I started listening to magnus archives a few months ago and it really did things to my writing ideas, so now I’m gonna round some up and post ‘em.
I forget where/when I first saw a moth!jon but u know. He’s cute. So here is some moth!jon AU! Corruption Jon :Dc and archivist Sasha! ~1800 words.
Since he is a corruption avatar in this, there is (as expected) some possibly gross bug imagery, but not a lot of holes. And no worms! :D
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The flat is quiet.
Quieter than Sasha expected, and much neater too than she expected when they connected this one to "Filth." The lights are off and there's a faint dusty, sweet scent in the air as she cracks open the door, torch slicing through the dark.
It catches on motes of dust. She thinks she hears movement, a susurrus of rustling like fabric faint in the depths of the place but little else. She pushes the door further, feels it catch on the ragged old rug on the floor and watches moths flutter up, batter against her torch in little puffs of dust before they flutter away.
Part of her worries as she steps inside, as she closes the door behind herself - leaving just a crack in case she needs to get out fast.
This is too quiet for something of the powers. The flat should be more of a wreck, more… more miserably bloodstained, more disgusting and unnerving, but it looks, honestly, just a bit messy, a bit moth-eaten. The couch sags a bit wrong, but hell, she can't pretend she's never had one like it. There are shelves of books, their edges chewed and pages no doubt holey, there's even a mug left forgotten on the kitchen counter. It's all dim; lit only by what spills around heavy curtain edges and her own torch as she steps further in and - and hears that rustling again from the end of the hallway and heads straight for it.
More moths flutter up at her steps, and she is wary, she is. But the things just… flutter uselessly at her hands, their wings shedding dust and their fat abdomens plump and full, but hardly a threat before they fly - further inside.
Towards that faint rustling noise, towards the door at the end of the dim-lit hall that is just open enough to allow the frantic moths to flit inside. Writhing and wriggling at the crack between door and jamb just a moment before they vanish inside, but the movement… it makes Sasha swallow.
Something about the way the bulbous little things squirm before they pop through sets her stomach on edge. Too many of them; more than she thought, all struggling to squeeze into that door.
The crack writhes by the time she reaches it.
She can swear she hears them whine and click and screech in tiny voices above the din of their frantically fluttering wings.
She uses her torch to push the door open. Fast, loosing a cloud of moths from the stuffed crack that fall and flutter and scatter into the dim room before her.
The rustling has not gone quiet. Neither has the soft, whining song of flapping wings and voices she cannot place as she raises her torch high, fumbling for her pepper spray in her other hand. More of a comfort to herself than any real belief it would accomplish anything against something abnormal, but the room doesn’t… change. Nothing leaps out of the dim shadows, nothing comes ravening towards her with a horrid, dripping maw.
It’s a bedroom. The bed is really as far as the light peeking around the curtains lights, in thin, dusty stripes across worn rugs and a small pile of abandoned clothes.
“A-Ah.”
Sasha whips her torch towards the voice, and stills.
There is… there is something like a man there. Tucked in the corner, with all the moths frantically fluttering, scuttling towards it. She watches, stomach queasy, as the moths drill between the heavy folds of the blanket? The wrap? It has folded around itself. It reaches a hand out to a particularly fat straggler and cradles it in its palms like a treasure, bringing it up slowly, carefully, and opens thin, paled lips and lets the thing crawl straight into its mouth as Sasha gags.
It is almost worse then when it looks up.
Long, straggling hair that was probably rather nice once. Now it is loose and lank, black shot with grey and dust that hangs over… over his shoulders, over the thing he has cocooned himself within. His eyes are dark. Too dark.
There are no whites, she realizes, and cannot help but feel her fingers twinge around the pepper spray.
But he isn’t attacking. He is just looking at her, head cocked like a curious animal as the moths burrow back into the shelter he offers.
She can work with this. She sucks in a breath, wills her stomach to settle as she tells it it could really be so, so much worse, and points the torch further towards the floor. Good manners. Going out on a limb that he’s probably not too fond of bright light.
“Hello,” she says. The strange man stares at her. Hard enough she swears she can feel the tracks his eyes leave on her skin, but she only makes herself stand taller. He seems to like that. He laughs. Not maliciously.
It’s soft. Like cotton, like it’s been a long while since he’s used his voice, and the rasp sticks to it as he speaks and Sasha tries not to linger on where exactly that moth went.
“Hello, Archivist. Doing house calls?”
He’s smiling. And that’s what gets her.
His voice is soft and smooth like old silk and his smile stiff like he’s unused to using it, but something about him feels familiar. It’s there, just at the corner of her mind, and she knows she’s frowning deeply as she casts a line and tries to hook just why she feels like she knows this strange man, but then he laughs again and stands.
He rustles as he does. That… that thing wrapped around him doesn’t move the way it should, not like cloth, but she can’t immediately place that, either. Not until he walks a little closer and her torch light catches on it and it… shimmers.
Like moth wings. And Sasha sucks in a breath.
She can see it now. The patterns in the dusty brown, the oranges that circle white to make massive, partly hidden eyespots. The thick, dark veins supporting the overall structure, and she can’t help herself from blurting out, “Can you fly with those?”
The man shudders, that smile hung unmoving on his face as he brings a hand to his mouth and coughs against the static.
“Not well,” he answers into his hand, his too-dark eyes sparkling. He lets his hand drop back into the too-layered folds of his wings and shuffles a little closer; his wingtips drag across the floor, like a blanket wrapped around a child too small for it, and she can see now where his long, untied hair turns into something shorter. A ruff of fur at the back of his neck, across the back of his shoulders.
(Can see the moths wriggling down into the fur, settling there, an army of tiny, coal-black eyes staring out at her, glinting green when her torch light catches them.)
And then he stands still, that faint smile on his face, his dark eyes half-lidded in an expression she cannot place, and waits as that soft, soft distant song hums in the room.
Sasha exhales. This is more than she dared hope for. He’s talking. He’s non-aggressive.
“I,” she begins, wetting her tongue before plunging back into her words. “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions. About the ‘Filth.’ About you.”
He watches, and she feels emboldened.
(Her phone begins to ring as she steps closer to him, and she ignores it. It’s Elias. She knows.)
“We don’t have answers. And if you could tell me, tell us what you know? About… about what’s happening.”
Her phone stops ringing. It starts again. The man smiles wider and reaches out. Sasha can see that his hands are… strange. Plated like chitin, and the desire to grab his hand and investigate each delicately plated joint wars deeply with the uneasy reminder that there are probably moths crawling beneath, of statements that were far, far more explicit about what ‘Filth’ did to a person than this man showed.
His hand waves in front of her face for a moment and she starts, coming back to herself, as her phone angrily rings again.
“Your phone?” the man asks, and Sasha doesn’t hesitate for a moment to shut the thing off.
(Elias. All three calls. If he doesn’t want her here, then she’s not leaving.)
“Well Archivist,” and she knows she is not missing the strange bitterness that clings to that word this time, knows there is something she is missing about him, “If you have that many questions, we should probably get a little more comfortable. I have a feeling that once I let you start, you’ll keep me well after dusk.”
And isn’t it bizarre? As he brushes past Sasha - both carefully and clearly telegraphing his movements so she only feels the barest touch of his wings as he heads back out into the hallway - she realizes she doesn’t feel afraid of this one. A little disgusted if she thinks about him too hard, yes, but there’s been no threat. No… no menace, no winding, evasive non-answers, just. Incredibly human remarks. It almost circles right back around from comforting to even worse than something as alien as the thing with the door. Michael.
But as the rustling moves away from her down the hallway, she can’t help but flash her torch around the bedroom. One last bit of nosiness.
An old, worn bed, rather like the couch. Shelves with books so moth-eaten they’ve gone to pieces. An open closet, filled with over-large sweaters and… She blinks. And oddly proper button ups, slacks.
And then… and then she turns her torch in one last semi-circle and catches upon a strange shine beneath the lumpy pillows.
Like polaroids.
The itch that there’s something she should know only grows when she spots them; growing from a thing at the edge of her thoughts to an all consuming need that drives her in fast steps across the dusty rug before she even catches herself. She fishes the pictures out with deft fingers and - and she thinks her heart stops in her chest.
She knows the people in the picture.
That long, dark hair shot with grey is distinctive - even set on a much more vibrant, lively face, and above a painfully crisp button up. He’s wearing glasses in the picture, and. A name tag.
She can’t read the name, but she’d recognize that emblem anywhere. Not that she needs to.
Because beside the stuffy librarian like man, his eyes green instead of black, stands… Tim. Tim, his shirt as loud as ever, his smile boisterous, and an arm slung affectionately around the man who couldn’t possibly be any more his opposite. And the same horrible name tag pinned to a pineapple-strewn lapel.
The man worked at the Magnus Institute.��
He worked with Tim.
She knows his name now.
Jonathan Sims.
#tma#tma fanfic#moth jon#crowswritings#hides chatter in the tags#my tentative ideas for this were that it's actually a time travel AU#as well as (gasp) jon/tim#bc like i mean who is to say the time travel is actually time travel?#you may as well have been shoved thru the crack to another world entirely where the time flows differently#and in this world jon and tim were originally a lot closer#jon sims#sasha james#i remembered i needed to tag them anyway so just picture tim doing his best to flirt with this oblivious stick in the mud#and catching feelings along the way but the guy is just Oblivious#and then one day he vanishes bc future/alt world jon comes along and p much instantly gets eaten by another Fear#(i imagine corruption as the antithesis to the lonely thanks to my partner so he did feed himself to it in desperation tbh)#when he woke up in a world and more or less panicked not wanting the same thing to happen as before and was so so desperate not to be Alone#jazzhands#he didn't consider that this world was actually different in some ways and legit just thought it was time travel#so when he saw the pictures of him and tim he was deeply confused and panicked and guilty#ok final jazzhands#this is a short drabble#the full idea would be much more than a short drabble and i am not strong enough to do a 50k jon/tim AU#love to spin it around in my head tho
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Have you ever wondered how Damian would handle an instagram account?
For starters, Damian doesn’t even know he has an instagram account. It’s until Bruce answers a question at an interview that Damian finds out he has an instagram account. Bruce had created it for him, for god-knows-what reason. Yet Damian has to act like he has known all along, that he has an instagram account.
Once Bruce gets him settled into a username that very literally is just Damian’s name as the son of the billionaire, Damian does absolutely nothing. He doesn’t follow anyone, he doesn’t post anything. He doesn’t even have a profile picture. For all everyone knows, Bruce Wayne could have lied and that account is just some rando’s.
And months pass, Damian’s account is the literal same every single day, and trust me, people have checked. Damian couldn’t actually care less about his instagram account, the only reason he hasn’t deleted the app completely is because he rarely even uses his phone. He just carries it around in his pocket when he’s out as Damian Wayne.
It’s almost a year, and Damian is out with Dick, they’re getting lunch or something. Dick has ordered a burger, Damian stuck with a veggie option. And they’re about to start eating and Dick takes out his phone, snaps a picture.
“What are you doing?” Damian asks him.
Dick stares at Damian. “It’s for my instagram story.” And then he starts typing some caption or something.
And even though I, op, don’t have younger brothers, I do have a younger sister and I can tell you that little siblings copy like, everything you do. And I know we’re talking about Damian, but still. Damian took his phone out and he snapped a picture, Dick in the shot as well. He posted it in his story, he didn’t put a caption.
And then later that day, Damian remembered that he hadn’t saved that picture he took. So he opened the instagram app and he saw a little circle around his empty profile picture. He decided that he liked it. It went from purple to pink to orange to yellow to orange to pink and back to purple.
So this became a routine of his, after all, it would cost him next to nothing. To take a picture and post it on his story. It would keep the little ring around his profile picture. And he’d get replies to his stories and he’d get tagged in pictures and he’d get thousands of followers and he’d get tagged in comments and new requests and all those things that famous accounts get.
And it’s not like the pictures ever made sense. The first week they were things like the cover of his sketchbook, or this plant he found in the garden. Maybe it was the map on his wall, or alfred the cat and titus. He wouldn’t even take time with these pictures. He’d just remember every day about the little circle around his default profile picture and he’d grab his phone, and he’d take a picture of the nearest thing he could find. He never bothered to write a caption, nor put a song, anything.
And as time passes, the logic of the pictures becomes blurry. Why would the heir of the richest man in gotham post a picture of a crack on the pavement?
But sometimes, people doubt that Damian even takes these pictures. Because sometimes they’re pictures of gotham at night, when the sky is pitch black, starless. And this one time, Damian is out on patrol, the sun is rising, he still hasn’t gone home. The sky reminds Damian of the little ring around his profile picture. So Damian sets his phone to record automatically and so it records towards the sunset. And because Damian would place himself against the light, the figure would look pitch black, a plain shadow against the sunset. So Damian sets his phone and he takes his cape off, he has his grappling hook, but he’ll use it once he’s out of the camera shot. And then he gets the video going (his phone is leaning on a plant pot, there’s another building that ends nearly as the camera shot begins. So Damian swings from where he set his phone, to the other building, and he just.
Jumps.
He’s jumping headfirst and he’s whooping loudly, laughing almost. He’s done this so many times yet something is just nicer.
it was awesome.
And he posts the video, but silences it. Nobody can see Damian’s uniform, nor his mask. For all they know, Damian hired someone to jump, or maybe he even threw a mannequin or something.
That was the only video Damian posted on his story. The rest, every other day, theRE were just pictures.
We skip time a bit more and Damian was with Jon, when he still lived in hamilton. They were by the tree they were always at, and Damian was taking a picture of the bark of the tree. Because bark.
And Jon just stares at Damian. “What the h are you doing?”
Damian shrugs. "Just taking a picture.”
Jon snatches the phone from him. They’re close enough friends. He goes to the camera and holds the phone up straight, he sets it to the front camera.
“My mom does this all the time,” he says. “She calls them selfies.”
Jon snaps a picture. Then he checks it. He’s smiling, Damian is not. “You’re so lame! Did nobody ever teach you how to smile?”
Jon snaps a second picture, Damian’s still not smiling. Third picture, Damian’s expression moves a bit, but it's just him rolling his eyes.
“Come on, Damian! SMILE!” Jon takes another picture, he checks it. Damian’s smiling dramatically, he looks like Jon looks in family pictures he doesn’t want to take. He’s not smiling with his teeth, his eyes are practically closed, his nose is scrunched up. If anything, he looks more disgusted than happy. “Ugh, we’ll just try another day, i guess.”
This became a sort of routine. Every day they saw each other as civilians, Jon would take a selfie with Damian. Sometimes he smiled, if he was in the right mood. It didn’t really matter, Damian never posted those pictures on his story.
Now we take Damian’s fourteenth birthday. This, Damian decides, is a much better way to spend his birthday than the last one. Bruce isn’t there, but his brothers are, his best friends also are. Alfred and Jon, Dick, Tim, and Jason. They’re eating strawberry cake, with the ‘happy 14th!’ in pink frosting and everything. It is now his first option, thanks to Alfred.
Anyways, they’re slicing the cake, Damian just blew out the candles. Jon takes his phone out, the one he got when he turned eleven. He doesn’t have an instagram account, Lois wouldn’t let him, but Jon still takes a picture of everything.
Alfred asks Damian for his phone, so he can take a picture. Damian shakes his head, yet he takes out his phone. He’s at the head of the table, he puts his phone on the front camera. He hands it to Alfred.
“Jon likes to call them ‘selfies’,” Damian explained. He showed Alfred. “Here, you take them like this.”
Damian took his phone back from Alfred, he stretched his arm with the phone. He called out Tim’s name, and all of them looked up.
“Smile!” Damian snapped a picture, he grinned. He looked at the picture, he liked it. Alfred was grinning, like in that picture in which he’s with Bruce when he was little, and they’re both laughing at something.
Damian decided that this picture was too nice for it to go on his 24-hour ring. Besides, he had already put a picture of Jason helping prepare the frosting. He didn't need two stories in the same day.
So he drafts the post, and there’s the option to edit the image, but Damian skips it. It’s nice as it is.
He posts it, he doesn’t write a caption.
taglist: @hauntingsonofrobin @bikoncon @catxsnow @screennamealreadyused @thesporklecat @thesesickfics-justmakemesick andd i think i got it all idk
#OKAY ALSO DAMIAN LOOKS AT THE PICTURE AGAIN AND HE NOTICES HIS NOSE SCRUNCHES UP WHEN HE SMILES AND HE GOES huh#damian wayne#jon kent#dick grayson#nightwing#robin#alfred pennyworth#dick and damian#jason todd#damijon#ALTHO NO BUT LIKE HAHA#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne x reader#or not but like it's an existing tag#lunatick#if you wanna be in my taglist send me an ask or comment lol i- you HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH GUTS IT TOOK TO WRITE A TAGLIST I HAVE LIKE FIVE
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Meeting for the first time. (Day one)
A/N: Okay so I'm going to try to do this. I am going to make a tag list so if you want to be tagged please let me know. Btw most of them are going to be one shots but I may continue some of them like this one. Also, I'm sorry for the rushed ending and the formatting, my computer decided to hate me today so I'm doing this from my phone I'll fix it tomorrow.
@biodad-bruce-month
Masterlist
Meeting Part one
"Marinette, sweetheart, you are adopted."
Adopted
When her parents told her they had something important to talk to her she figured it was about school or worst-case scenario, they found out about her extracurricular activities as a super heroine.
No, instead they told Marinette that her whole life had been a lie.
They sat her down and explained that she had been adopted when she was nine months old. They tripped over themselves trying to reassure her that they loved her as their own and tried to defend the reason why they never told her.
Marinette didn't know what to think. Things like this were only supposed to happen in movies. Not become her reality.
Marinette felt so confused as she tried to process it all. None of it made sense. Tom and Sabine were her biological parents. They… they had to be.
But, the truth was slowly sinking in.
Marinette had never truly understood the expression "ignorance is bliss" until that moment. Somehow not knowing the truth felt like a better option than the alternative.
"But, why now?" Marinette asked hesitantly. "If you weren't planning to ever tell me, then why do it now?"
She really hoped she was wrong, but in movies that was when they tell her that one of her bio parents died. Usually, said parent was royalty meaning that she would be next in line for the throne. Oh gosh, would she have to move to a strange country and rule it?
Oh wait, she was apparently born in America. And as far as Marinette knew, America didn't have a monarch.
She snapped out of her thoughts in time to see Tom and Sabine share a look. Finally, Sabine spoke up "Do you remember the scholarship honey?"
She did.
Marinette had been given a one in a lifetime opportunity to study in a prestigious art school in the outskirts of Paris and was offered a scholarship that covered half of the tuition.
Unfortunately, the Dupain-cheng's didn't have enough money to cover the other half. While the bakery was fairly popular, all of their savings had dried up the month prior when the delivery truck broke down, and they were forced to buy a new one.
Because of this, Marinette had to turn down the scholarship.
Marinette's stomach dropped as she realized that her parents... or well Tom and Sabine had been struggling financially, even without the scholarship, because of her, with the knowledge of being adopted she couldn't help but feel like an unnecessary burden to them.
Seeing her daughter's crestfallen expression, Sabine rushed to Marinette's side giving her a small hug before saying. "Sweetie, we love you okay? And it broke our hearts when you had to turn down that amazing opportunity, so we tried to contact your biological father hoping he would be able to help us." She explained.
"We never heard back from him." Tom chimed in "but we thought it would be better to let you know in case we do later on."
Marinette nodded. That… made sense, and it was far better than what Marinette had immediately assumed.
Still, all the information was too overwhelming. Marinette needed to talk to the kwamis, they would help her understand the situation better.
"I- I need to go." Marinette stood up and sprinted up the stairs, towards her room. Ignoring her parents who called after her.
She ran up to her bed and landed face first in it. All the kwamis flew out from their hiding spots and gathered around her.
Tikki nuzzled her cheek. "Oh Marinette, I'm so sorry."
Marinette let out a small humorless chuckle. "So, you heard huh?"
"Sure did, bug." Plagg said, floating close to her face. "Personally, I think we should find that father of yours and… you know… bless him with a not so great day."
This time Marinette actually laughed. "I think you meant curse and no, we are not going to do that." Plagg rolled his eyes.
Suddenly, Marinette felt tired. She could continue talking with the kwamis later. She needed to sleep, yeah"I think I'm going to sleep for a bit," she informed them
Tikki nodded. "Sweet dreams Marinette." The rest of the kwamis echoed this as Marinette drifted off to sleep.
~♡~♡~♡~
Plagg grinned as he turned on the computer.
Tikki flew up to him. "What are you doing?" She asked, scandalized.
"We are going to google Pigtails' biological father," he explained.
Tikki groaned, "you don't even know how to use a computer! And there's no 'we' if you want to do something that's your problem!"
Plagg smirked devilishly "Sugar Cube, we are literal gods. We can do this! Don't you want to know who he is."
Tikki begrudgingly agreed, she even helped him open the browser. "Okay so type in 'Bruce Wayne'"she instructed. "And then press that weird looking key that says enter alright?"
Plagg complied. The two kwamis turned to look at the results.
Both kwamis gaped at the screen. Plagg whispered."Well, if this is the same guy but if so-"
"Then Marinette is the daughter of a billionaire." Tikki cut in, examining the picture. "Plagg, I think this is him."
"It's the eyes isn't it?" Tikki nodded. "Yeah, well that would mean that a freaking billionaire ignored the pleas of the adoptive parents of his biological daughter!" Plagg exclaimed, growing angry.
"Well maybe he didn't believe them?" Tikki tried to reason.
Plagg suddenly growled at the screen."Look! He has like as many kids as he has money!"
Tikki frowned, "Then why would he abandon his daughter?"
"Because he's a jerk! And I thought my kid's dad was bad!" Plagg glared at the picture causing Tikki to giggle. "What?"
"I don't think I've ever seen you so worked up over something that isn't cheese." She teased.
Plagg huffed, "well, your Bug gives me cheese, but if she's sad then she forgets. So it's really in my best interest to make sure Pigtails isn't upset."
Tikki laughed. "Yeah, yeah I totally believe you." She said sarcastically. "Anyways, do you think Marinette realizes her father is famous? "
Plagg snorted. "Are you kidding? If she knew she would still be freaking out." Tikki hummed in agreement. "Well, I think that now that we know who he is it's time to do what Pigtails would not let me do." Plagg concluded.
"Wait, what? No!" Tikki exclaimed.
"Ooo can I help with that?" A new voice asked. The kwamis turned to see Kaalki looking at them with a mischievous grin.
"Sure thing!" Plagg said just as Tikki was saying "No!"
The two ignored the spotted kwamii and began plotting how they were going to make sure Bruce Wayne would have the most unfortunate luck for at least a couple of days.
~♡~♡~♡~
It had not been a very good day for Bruce.
The DNA test had finally arrived, and he found out that he did, in fact, have another biological child. Unfortunately, Tim found the test and his efforts of trying to keep it a secret had been in vain because then most of his children interrogated him about their newfound sibling. Even Jason was there which was surprising.
Thankfully, they were wise enough not to tell Damian, because otherwise Marinette Dupain-cheng would have been in grave danger.
Dick, along with the rest, insisted that they needed to meet Marinette. So with the help of Tim, they arranged a trip to Paris for the next day. Meaning that Bruce had less than 12 hours to find Marinette and talk to her before that happened.
So as soon as all of his kids left, he asked Alfred to arrange an early flight.
Which is how he found himself in front of Collège Françoise Dupont, the high school his daughter attended.
In the rush, he had forgotten to call beforehand, so he called Alfred and asked him to inform Marinette's parents of his arrival.
Bruce still wanted to talk to Marinette before Dick or someone else inevitably found out that he had left. So he got out of the car and walked inside, only to be greeted by a very flustered looking principal.
It wasn't until she called him "Mister Wayne" that Marinette realized who he was.
"Mister Wayne! It's uh, an honor to meet you!" The man exclaimed nervously while shakily extending his hand. "I received your call and I informed Marinette's homeroom teacher of your arrival. They- they should be in my office right now."
Bruce thanked him. On the way to the office Mr. Damocles told him "What an excellent student" Marinette was. He insisted that Marinette was one of the best students in his school. It made Bruce suspicious of the way that principal treated the rest of his students.
Finally, they arrived at the office. Marinette sat in a chair looking rather confused as her teacher stood next to her wearing a tight smile.
Mrs. Bustier introduced herself in a similar manner as Mr. Damocles.
It wasn't until she called him "Mister Wayne" that Marinette realized who he was.
Her face paled as she let out a small gasp. "You- you are my father."
In retrospect, he probably should have introduced himself to her first.
#marinette dupain cheng#maribat#miraculous ladybug#ml x dc#bio!dad bruce wayne#bio!dad au#bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020#b!dbwm2020#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020#my trash writing
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So I'm dead then. Interesting.
Sorry this took so long to get out a lot of stuff has been happening and I've been super busy. Anyway i saw this idea a LONG time ago and it just seemed perfect for daminette.
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As Damian opened his eyes he looked around. This room was not familiar. He was not at the manner then, so where was he? The room was far too pink for his tastes, and was that a dress in the corner? No this definitely wasn't the manner.
"Marinette!! Get up you are going to be late for the first day of school!!"
Damian jumped, wiping his head around. Next to him was a girl who was just starting to wake up. She had black hair that fell just around her shoulders. She sat up in bed and stretched. wait a minute, WHY WAS HE IN THE SAME BED AS HER???!!!! This was bad this was very bad!!! He was only 13!!! what happened!!
Damian tried to push himself away from her only to fall through the rail on the side of her bed. The girl, Marinette, didn't seem to notice him she simply climbed down the ladder and, grabbing some clothes, headed to the bathroom. He could hear the shower turn on so he decided to look around.
She had a sewing machine on a desk with a sckech book open next to it. The sckech book held elegant dresses and tuxedos with embroidery so perfectly placed you would have to wonder if it was part of the fabric.
There were pictures on the wall of the girl's friends, one boy seemed to take up most of the space, perhaps her boyfriend? Damian also found a skylight that appeared to open onto a balcony.
When Marinette reappeared she was wearing a nice outfit, still drying her hair off from the shower.
Damian decided now was as good a time as any to ask her what the heck he was doing here, "Excuse me miss," no response, "I was wondering where I am and who you are." Still nothing, "im trying to talk to you!" Damien said reaching out his hand to grab her by the shoulder. His hand passed right through her. He stared at the girl who was still packing her backpack, and then at his hand which was becoming more solid every second he wasn't touching her.
He grabbed his own hand and could feel the scars on it from the league. But when he tried to touch Marinette again his hand passed through her, this time she shivered a bit. Odd he could touch himself but not her, could he touch other things? He reached out to the wall, his hand rested on it until he pushed more and he began to slip through the wall. Very interesting.
As Marinette walked down the stairs to the voice that had called her before Damian followed testing things as her went. Marinette sat down to eat breakfast with who he asumed to be her parents before rushing off to her first day of school.
As Damian followed her throughout the day he discovered several things: he didn't have legs anymore. Where his legs had once been was now replaced with a flowy tail (like the genie in Alddin). He also couldn't be seen or heard by anyone, he had tried to speak but nothing happened. And to top it all off he was in France!! He probably should have figured that out by all the people speaking French but it hit him when marinette had gone to the Eiffel tower after school. Well not exactly marinette, ladybug had gone to the Eiffel tower when fighting a monster called stone heart.
After Stone Heart was defeated marinette went back home and detransformed, Damian hadn't seen her receive the earrings so seeing a giant floating ladybug was strange, but to be fair he was flying right now too.
"Oh marinette that was great! I knew you would make the perfect Ladybug!" Said the.... thing.
"Thank you Tikki!" Oh so that was the things name.
"It was your first day and......" Tikki paused, "oh marinette im so sorry, I didn't know."
"Whats wrong Tikki? What didn't you know?"
"your soulmate...... he's here." As if that explains everything! How was that supposed to help him.
"What do you mean my soulmate is here?" Marinette asked.
"If your soulmate dies before you meet them then they come to watch over you, most humans have soulmates they just don't know about it until its too late...... I can sense yours. I'm so sorry marinette."
so he was dead, that made a lot of sense actually. The last thing he remembered was fighting his clone and then darkness. He should be angry he knew that, but he really didn't care. He liked this girl, he felt safer with her in one day then he did with his father after a whole month. Still he wanted to try to tell his family he was alright..... ok maybe he wasn't alright but he was happy.
Marinette's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "What happened to him?"
Tikki closed her eyes trying to concentrate, "im not sure, he died bravely, in battle. Other then that i don't know."
Well she was correct, he did die in battle with his clone. He wondered what had happened in that battle after his death. Had his family succeeded in defeating his mother, or were they all dead too now? He had no answer but what he did know was that he should try to find them.
That night he began flying away in the direction he believed America was, he reached the sea faster then he had expected. One advantage about being dead was that he didn't get tired, he just kept flying.
Then suddenly he was back in marinette's room as she stretched on her bed. Sunlight was streaming through the skylight. Every time he tried to leave he reappeared at the exact time Marinette woke up every day. The day repeated much the same as the day before, one of the girl's in marinette's class called her names and didn't get in trouble, a monster was beaten by Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir, and he floated around.
Eventually he discovered he could leave massages for marinette on her phone, in the steam on her mirror, or if she left a notebook out overnight. He left small things like, "don't forget about you math test!" Or "Alya said you could go to her house for cookies after school" or "talk to chat noir before he becomes a problem." You know important stuff.
Damian discovered he had grown quite fond of his 'Soulmate' as Tikki had called her. She would talk to him sometimes, about school, ladybug stuff, everything. He would answer back when he could with a note or send a sign, she always seemed to understand.
One day after hearing Marinette talk about how hard it would be to find HawkMoth Damian decided to do something about it. That night he Searched evry house on the east side of Paris. When marinette woke up he was at her side.
He wasn't sure how long he looked, every day was spent with marinette and every night trying to find her enemy. He really wasn't sure how long he had been dead, it felt like he had always been like this, but at the same time like everything was brand new.
After what must have been weeks of searching he found Hawkmoth. The man was nun other then Gabriel Agreste. As damian raced back to marinette's house he got the familier feeling of being pulled away from his spot to Marinette.
Except he wasn't at Marinette's house, he wasn't even in Paris, he was in the batcave looking up at his father.
"Damien! It worked!" Cried Batman still holding his disoriented son.
Damien had no idea what was going on, one minute he was going to tell marinette who her worst enemy was and now he was half way across the world and appeared to be alive, again.
"Father? What am I doing here? Where is marinette?"
Bruce frowned at his son, "Who's marinette?"
Just as Damian was going to answer a loud crash came from behind them. He just got back and already had to fight someone. Great. The fight didn't take long once Damian discovered he had super powers given to him by the same crystal that brought him back to life.
After his family explained how they had brought him back using magic and that his grandfather was also alive again, he had his own explanation to give.
"Everything is all fuzzy."
"Thats alright Damian, you have been dead for months." Tim said.
"But i wasn't really dead," everyone glanced around confused as Damian continued, "I woke up in Paris, and she was waking up and I didn't know what to do, she is a Hero. She knew I was there. She knew I was dead. She is my soulmate."
"Damien are you okay?" Bruce said, this wasn't like Damien at all, he should be mad he let himself die not concerned for someone who didn't exist.
"I have to get to Paris! I HAVE TO TELL HER ABOUT HAWKMOTH! She has... to....know........" the end of his sentence drifted off as Dick pulled the needle out of Damian's arm.
"When he gets up, we will have to tell him that he was hallucinating, we don't need him running off to France to find someone who doesn't exist."
Soon the memorys of Marinette and his time being dead grew distant. He was unaware of the confusion he had caused in Paris.
Tikki could always feel marinette's soulmate as he traveled around Paris. Until he vanished. She immediately got Marinette out to the bathroom to talk.
"Marinette he's gone."
"Who is gone, Tikki?" Marinette asked.
Tikki frowned trying to feel him, "your soulmate he isn't here. I can't sense him anymore."
"There must be a reasonable explanation, maybe he just went out of Paris?"
"No, he isn't anywhere it's almost like he isn't dead anymore."
"But that's not possible, right?" Marinette asked almost hopefully.
"I've seen it before, but don't get your hopes up."
*********************
This isn't the best but I did my best. The ending definitely needs some work. I'm still learning to write so this is the best I could do, I think I'm going to do a list of ideas and have people request whichever one they want. If you like that idea let me know.
Tagging:
@ivymala07
@iloveitwhen
@chocoleteicecreamlover
@crystalangelluna
@clumsy-owl-4178
@pawsitivelymiraculous
#batfam#damian wayne#damien#maridami#marinette cheng#marinette x damian#miraculous marinette#maribat#marinette x damian happy#daminette#daminette oneshot
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Damian Wayne x GN!Reader in: A Most Discerning Customer
12 Days of Batmas || Day 5—Ugly Sweaters
MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
|| 18+ ONLY ||
↞ previous: his favorite helper elf || wrapping presents
|| ao3 version | 12 days m.list | batboys tag | main blog ||
|| dick day 5 | jay day 5 | tim day 5 ||
Well the ugliest sweater gets a prize… That, uhh, that makes the pain worth it, right? At least a little bit?”
“Beloved, I think that the best prize to be had is the retention of our dignity.”
He makes ‘bad’ look oh-so-good…
🌟 Once again these are all v. loosely connected. I guess it technically starts with Dick, but honestly you can read them in any order.
🌟 Really the only thing that connects them is the fact that it’s Dick’s turn to pick the theme of their annual Christmas Eve party and he went with ‘ugly holiday sweaters’. They’re having a competition and the winner gets to pick which movie’s they’ll be binge watching that night, so naturally they’re going all in lol.
↠ Requested By: Not a soul lol
↠ Reader Gender: Neutral
↠ Content Type: SFW fluff ((but my blog’s 18+ if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3))
↠ CWs: None
↠ Betas? Nah, we don’t do that here.
↠ Total WC: 1.3k~
Headcanon || WC: 600~
🌟 He’s not here for this foolishness. Like at all.
🌟 Tbh he considers most holiday traditions to be silly at best, a waste of time at worst. If he entertains any of them it’s for your benefit (and the rest of his family’s too, but he’s loath to admit to that).
The one exception to his instant disdain is mistletoe.
Sure he knows he can get kisses from you anytime he wants, no plant needed, but there’s just something about the tradition that does it for him—but we’ll get into all of that on Day Nine.
🌟 Anyways!
🌟 When he first learns of the concept of ugly holiday sweaters he’s honestly relieved lol.
Prior to acquiring this knowledge he was v. confused about all the people he saw bopping around in really bizarre/outright hideous jumpers and he didn’t know what to make of it.
Was their sense of style just that bad? Or was this some joke/trend/meme that he was not yet privy to?
Ofc it turned out to be the latter, and while he’s glad to be in the loop he doesn’t really want to participate in things.
🌟 The only way you’ll catch this man in an ugly anything is if you, his partner who he adores with his whole entire being, asks him to don it.
You never have to beg him for anything, btw. By his estimation such actions are well beneath you, and he would never force you to stoop so low just to get him to agree to something. You only need ask him, and if it falls under the purview of what he has to give it’ll be promptly granted.
There are exceptions to this, naturally, as everyone has their hard limits and such, but so long as you’re not asking for anything that’s gonna hurt either of you or something really out there/terrible he’ll fold like an accordion lol. What can he say—he’s just really soft for you, okay?
You’re in a v. privileged position so PLEASE do not take advantage of this precious boy, I humbly beg of you…
🌟 Honestly he’d rather buy something off of the rack, but if you’re super insistent then he’ll cave and make a sweater with you.
You remember wrapping bootcamp from Day Four? Well this is the Electric Boogaloo lmao.
Remember: He’s either gonna do it Right™ or he’s not gonna do it at all.
🌟 He’ll let you take all the pictures you want, but please don’t pass them around to anyone without consulting him first.
Dames gets touchy about the weirdest stuff. He’s taken great pains to cultivate his persona and anything that can potentially damage that, no matter how silly you may find said thing, is a no-go for him.
Like I said, the man’ll move heaven and earth for you, so respecting his wishes on this shouldn’t be an issue imo (not to mention the fact that it’s just the decent thing to do).
🌟 As far as the competition goes he doesn’t take it too seriously unless something he wants is on the line.
Naturally this is Adult!Dami we’re talking about. His younger self always went balls to the gd wall whenever there was even a hint of a competition to be had. Hell, even when there wasn’t one he was still v. much a ‘anything you can do I can do so much better’, one-upper type.
Thankfully as he got older he grew out of that need to constantly prove himself. Now that he’s got legit confidence in both himself and his abilities as well as a more grounded sense of self he doesn’t feel the need to constantly show out, and honestly both he and the world at large is better for it lol…
A Most Discerning Customer || WC: 700~
“It would seem as if Grayson has finally settled on a theme for this year’s holiday gathering.”
Damian’s tone is as close to defeated as you’ve ever heard it. Between the lackluster intonation and the furious way he’d been pecking at his phone’s keyboard you’re left with the distinct impression that he’s none too fond of whatever it is Dick has chosen. When you ask him about it he just sighs and hands you the device so that you can read it for yourself.
Given all the threats about keeping all of the pictures that will inevitably be taken confined to the deepest reaches of the inner sanctum you’re not entirely sure what to expect, but an ugly sweater party probably should’ve made the list all things considered.
“I mean it’s not the worst thing he could’ve chosen,” you reason. “This is Dick, after all. He could’ve finally made his dream of a Frozen-themed costume party a reality.”
Your man’s entire existence stalls at the thought before a small shiver of repulsion works its way down the length of his spine. Like so many, the eldest Wayne child had caught Frozen Fever (once a-fucking-gain) when the second move released last November. Thanks to him you’re all well acquainted with both movies’ soundtracks and can make far more quotes and references than you probably otherwise would be able to.
Dames quiet mutter of “Small mercies” leaves you giggling a bit as you lean against his side.
“Well the ugliest sweater gets a prize… That, uhh, that makes the pain worth it, right? At least a little bit?”
“Beloved, I think that the best prize to be had is the retention of our dignity.”
Your replying chuckle is enough to pull a snort of amusement from him, at least. Though he’s being pouty—or, well as pouty as Damian ever gets anyway—you know that if he truly didn’t want to participate he simply wouldn’t. That he hasn’t outright shut things down is as good a sign as any that he’s okay enough with the situation, may even be looking forward to it a tiny bit. After all, the night’ll no doubt be good for blackmail pics if nothing else–
Grant it that’s a double edged sword, but he does like his blades…
“So how do you want to play this then?” you ask. “We can go all out and make our own…” You let the sentence trail off as you gauge his reaction. Clearly he’s not feeling the DIY-route so you decide to suggest something store bought.
“Pretty sure we could also get something custom made online,” you comment as you turn to Google to confirm your theory.
“…Are you telling me that there’s actually a market for bespoke ugly holiday sweaters?”
You shrug at that. “I mean, probably, yeah. The internet is a weird and wonderful place, my love.”
He clicks his tongue at that, but doesn’t argue the point.
The next few hours are spent with you looking through various sites and articles together. Surprisingly Damian gets more into things the longer you browse; less surprising, however, is his critical critiques. He’s merciless in his commentary, dragging everything from quality (“It’s one thing to make something ugly, but that does not give you leave to cut corners. Look at those seams—sloppy. And don’t even get me started on the beading. And they expect someone to pay for this? The audacity…”) to vision (“Really? So they think they can add a bit of jeweling and some poorly cut felt reindeer and call it ‘ugly’? I think the word they were looking for is ‘sad’, actually. How terribly uninspired.”).
His words are cutting, but meant in good fun nonetheless, and you find yourself in much the same condition that the creators would be should they ever hear him—breathless, in tears, and begging him to stop.
In the end he settles on something ‘tastefully horrendous’—a deep scarlet number that’ll look amazing against the golden undertones of his skin while beautifully contrasting with his eyes. There’s more tinsel than what you would’ve expected him to go with, but given the state of your own purchase you don’t have much room to talk. You have no idea if you’ll be disqualified for wearing something that you technically didn’t make, but you do know that whether you get the win or not you’re going to look fabulous(ly atrocious).
Up Next:
🌟 Day 6: Beautiful (Finish What You Start) || Baking Cookies
“You’re beautiful like this, you know that?”
His father always told him to never be the one to start a fight, but always be the one to finish it.
© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…
#((Immy does fan fiction: the Batboys))#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x gn!reader#damian wayne x gender neutral reader#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne hc#damian wayne headcanon#our boy’s got a sharp tongue that hasn’t really dulled with age#rather he’s got a more developed sense of decorum so he’s not chewing folk out every 5 min like he used to#still he likes to indulge from time to time in relatively harmless ways such as the dragging of those sweaters#it should be said as he is now he’d never be so cruel as to do that to a person’s face unless it was warranted#but anyways…
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From Replacement to the Original pt.1
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Batman - All Media Types
Relationships: Tim Drake & Selina Kyle, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Characters: Tim Drake, Janet Drake, Selina Kyle, Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Somewhat good parent Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is Tim Drake's Biological Parent, Selina Kyle is Tim Drake's Biological Parent, Selina Kyle is Catwoman, Past Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Child Neglect, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Was Robin, Protective Selina Kyle, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe
Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne had just woken up on his once-a-month mandatory rest day when he saw that the Drake Family Lawyer contacted him about a contingency letter left by his mother. Apparently, word of mouth travelled fast that he had come back from his supposed soul-searching trip around his parent’s favorite dig sites.
Mr. Fletcher had asked him when he was free to come get the letter his mother had left for him. Tim had wanted to get out of Gotham as soon as he could so he set up an appointment for that afternoon.
Tim had whipped together a quick breakfast and taken his antibiotics before he spent the rest of the morning finalizing his 2 weeks’ notice since Bruce had been able get back into Wayne Enterprises for the week. It had just been a little over a month since Tim had brought Bruce home from the Time Stream and while Tim had expected things to change, he had hoped it would be for the better.
Bruce hadn’t even blinked at the sight of Damian wearing the Robin suit. Hell, he had congratulated Dick for the way he had managed to keep Gotham and everything in line. Bruce had even found the time to fix up his relationship with Jason before he talked to Tim.
He didn’t even bother to thank Tim for saving his life and for taking over his family business. Instead, they talked business and acted as if nothing was wrong in front of the WE employees. If it wasn’t in business suits, then it was in the other suits when he called in Red Robin to help with a case. Tim hasn’t stepped foot inside the Manor in months.
If this was Bruce’s way of saying he didn’t need Tim anymore, he got the message loud and clear. After all, he was just the replacement, right? The pretender who forced his way into their lives and refused to go peacefully so he had to be kicked out. Well, here he was, bowing out silently out of their lives.
Tim had planned meticulously for how he would be able to leave without them noticing. In a week, he would submit his 2 weeks’ notice to Lucius Fox before heading on business trip to Japan to finalize a deal. He would be spending the next week there before heading to Austria for another week for another business deal. After, he would simply go wherever he wanted to go.
He preprogrammed a message to be sent to each of the Bats, as a farewell of sorts because even if they didn’t think of him as family, he still loved them as if they were his family. He had even prepared a message for the Titans in case they would ever need him again. They were the only ones Tim trusted enough to keep in contact with. Everyone else, even Alfred would have to be left behind.
Tim viciously pushed these thoughts to the side as he decided to enjoy a quick lunch before he made his way to talk to Mr. Fletcher. As he mindlessly prepped ingredients for a simple salad (because his immunity was shot so he needed all the help he could get), he wondered what would be in the letter.
His mother was not the touchy-feely type. She wouldn’t put something about them loving him. Most likely, it would be business instructions to ensure that Drake Industries would still be the empire that it had been under his mom’s command. Unfortunately for his mom, his dad had been the one to wreck the empire.
Tim had thought about reviving Drake Industries but had ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. The amount of time that went into running a business wasn’t conducive to being a teenage vigilante and Tim wanted to be free to pursue the things he wanted in life. He had more than enough money to live off on and he had invested his money wisely so it had been turning a profit since he had left Gotham the first time.
Even if he continued his vigilantism, he had more than enough money to support himself. He didn’t need their help anymore, just like they don’t need him anymore. As he started cooking his breakfast, he marveled at how he had gotten to this point of independence from the Bats.
Ever since he came back with Bruce in tow, the rest of the Bats didn’t even bother to contact him unless it was for patrol or for a case. Oracle only kept in contact for business. Dick basically ignored their issues and tried to pretend they didn’t exist. Damian liked to act as if he didn’t exist. Jason was, oddly enough, the only one he could stand even if they did only work together for cases. Cass was still in Hong Kong.
If he was being honest with himself, Tim desperately missed being home at the Manor but after everything happened, it was clear that the Manor was no longer his home. Home used to be with the Bats and occasionally, with the Titans. Now, Tim would have to find a new home for himself, hopefully away from Gotham and the Bats.
Tim ate his salad mindlessly while he let his mind wander on his active cases. He would need to tie up his loose ends before he left without the bats taking notice. He popped his next dose of antibiotics into his mouth after and finally decided that he’s wasted enough time to start getting ready for the appointment.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Timothy Drake-Wayne was ready and presentable to the public again. Tim debated bringing his motorcycle but the address of the office was only a couple of blocks from his apartment and he could use the walk to clear his head and get some fresh air.
As he left his penthouse, Tim’s mind debated again about what his mother could have possibly written about. His inheritance had already been secured since he was born so it couldn’t be that. The business had already sunken and drowned under the guidance of his father. It didn’t make any sense for Janet Drake to write a contingency letter and yet, here it was.
Tim didn’t know why but every step felt like it was weighed down with lead and his stomach dropped as he got closer and closer. By the time he was at the office, Tim’s mind was buzzing about theories as to what could have been so important for him to know that his mother, famed Iron Dragon of Gotham wrote a letter just in case she died.
Mr. Fletcher must have been eagerly awaiting him by the looks of it since Tim had scarcely knocked on the office doors before it was opened. It’s been a while since Tim had seen Mr. Fletcher given that he had retired before the Drakes passed.
“Timothy, you’re early!”
“Mother taught me that it was better to be early than to waste other’s time. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Fletcher.”
“That does sound like something Janet would preach. I wished we’d met again under more ideal circumstances but you’ve grown into a fine young man. Your parents would be proud.”
“Thank you. Your email mentioned a letter from Mother?”
“Ah yes! As you know, ever since my son took over my position at the firm, I had relinquished all of my active duties to him but this was more of a request made by your mother to me as a confidant and friend. Jacob, my son had been cleaning out my office a few days ago when he found the envelope. He contacted me immediately about it and I remembered what it was about. I made the trip out here because I had to give it to you before I forgot again. I owe your mother that much.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Fletcher?”
“I think it’s best for you to read it, Timothy. I already know what it contains but I’m here to answer any of your additional questions.”
This suddenly seemed like a much bigger deal than Tim originally thought it would be, especially since Mr. Fletcher had left his retirement in Metropolis to give this to him in person. With bated breath, Tim opened the sealed envelope and began to read.
~~~
Dearest Timothy,
If you are reading this, then there are two possible options. Either I have passed on before your 18th birthday or I was too much of a coward to talk to you about this in person and I gave you this letter instead. As I write this, your father is asleep, holding you after a nightmare from today’s ordeal at the circus. I have tried to sleep but my mind will not be quieted about the possibility of that happening to us before I could tell you the truth so I decided to make this contingency letter just in case. By the time
you’re reading this, you will have grown into an intelligent young man who I know is capable of so much more than Jack and I could have ever dreamed of, partially because you are more than Jack and I could ever produce.
Timothy, you are not our biological son. I had gotten pregnant but the child I had borne was stillborn. Jackson Timothy Drake hadn’t been able to take his first breath before it was taken away. Luckily for me, your father was out of town on business and I rushed to Gotham General against my earlier wishes and they had stuck me in a room with another woman who had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby boy, you.
You were both born on the same day, in the same room, with different fates. Your mother was a young woman from the seedier side of Gotham and your father was out of the picture, or so she said. She was planning to give you up for adoption anyway and so I made the only impulsive decision I have ever made since marrying Jack and I told her to give you to me. I told her I would give you the life of luxury you deserved and that you would never want for anything if she gave you to me. She agreed on one condition: I tell you the truth about your parentage on your 18th birthday so that she could have the opportunity to get to know you too.
She didn’t even let me pay for her hospital bills because she didn’t want to be indebt to me even though I was forever indebted to her for giving me you. I had John rush over to Gotham General and make a contract for both of us because I could not allow Jack and the rest of Gotham High Society to find out about this. The only ones who knew about you being adopted were me, John, your mother and the medical staff who helped us. Since Gotham General was severely underfunded prior to my intervention, it was easy to get them to change the records to make Timothy Jackson Drake be born and for Jackson Timothy Drake to disappear. I had gotten the staff involved to sign NDAs and to make sure that none of this got out.
As I write this, I have seen you grow into this absolutely marvelous and intelligent child, talented in ways I could have never expected. It is bittersweet for me because as I see you grow, I cannot help but think of what my biological son could have been had he survived. Would he be as smart and as capable as you? Would he be different compared to you? Would I have taken you in had he survived? I have never regretted my decision to adopt you but I could not stand to watch you grow when I know my biological son never will. I know I will most likely grow to be distant from you and I already regret it but I cannot stop myself from seeing my dead son in you.
However, I can already tell you will be stronger than I ever could be. You take to your lessons like a duck to water and you see a magic in the world that I could never see. I want you to know that even if you are not mine biologically, I still love you even if I cannot show it. I love you even if you cannot feel it. I love you but I also love the son that I lost and I cannot help but mourn for him while I watch you grow. Your father does not know so his love is genuine and pure for you.
I want you to know this, Timothy. I took you in on an impulsive decision but I have never regretted it. Sure, I wish with all of my heart and mind that my son had survived but I was able to have you and you more than made up for it. I know that this does not excuse my future actions, my possible neglect of you but I hope you understand why I cannot bear to be close to you. I love you even if I do not show it. I love you even if you cannot see it. I love you and I hope you can forgive me for not telling you sooner.
Love,
Mother
~~~
Of all of the possibilities Tim had considered, this was not one of them. This explained so much but also left so many questions but the only thought passing through his head was the fact that, even at birth, he was a replacement.
“I assume you have questions?”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, to be honest. You’ve known the entire time?”
“Yes. I was the one who made the contract for your mother and she swore me to secrecy.”
“So, let me get this straight. I was just a replacement for her son who died?”
“No! Of course not. Timothy, I know it must not have seemed like it but your mother and father truly did love you as if you were their own. Your mother has some leftover problems from her childhood that negatively impacted her ability to show her love even if she does. She would have never bothered to put in the effort otherwise.”
“I’m trying to believe that but my recollection of Mother is not that different from the Iron Dragon of Gotham.”
“That’s because she fought to give you the best education and care possible which she knew was not her own. That’s why she constantly changed your nannies and tutors because as soon as she felt they inadequate for you, she was searching for the next best thing for you. Janet didn’t really care in the normal ways, Timothy. I know it’s hard to see but she really did love you and take care of you in her own way.”
“I just. I never expected this.”
“I knew this day would come but I was honestly hoping your mother would be here to explain her side of the story before she told you who your birth mother was.”
“Do-do you know who my birth mother is?”
“It’s not written in the letter?” Mr. Fletcher seemed genuinely surprised at this.
“No. Mother didn’t include her name, just a vague description of her. Can you tell me who my mother is?”
“I guess by the time Janet wrote it, she had forgotten the name. I think I have the contract hidden here. Let me look for it.”
What followed was the tensest five minutes of Tim’s life. He didn’t even know if his biological mother was still alive but he wanted to find out. After all, his birth mother had wanted to reconnect when he was older. Maybe, she wanted to have him in her life, just like Mo-Janet had apparently wanted him in her life.
Maybe, she would be there with welcoming arms. Maybe, she was one of the many civilian casualties of their nighttime escapades. Maybe, she had gotten lost in the seedier side of Gotham and she had never been able to make it out. There were so many maybes that Tim wanted to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.
“Aha! Here it is. According to this, your birth mother is Selina Kyle.”
Holy shit. His mother was fucking Catwoman.
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@whumptober2021 Day 4: Taken Hostage / Pushed / “Do you trust me?”
Fandom: Batman
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd
Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Protective Jason Todd, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Jason is Robin
Words: 7.826
Summary:
“Batman will come for you, right?” Tim only realizes that is the wrong thing to ask when Robin’s face falls.
“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin insists with a stubborn tension in his shoulders. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”
Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.
But Tim agrees anyway. Why wouldn’t he? Robin is a hero. His hero. And he’s lucky they were kidnapped together. Now they only have to get out this cell in one piece.
---
The shove comes out of nowhere.
Tim has gotten good at navigating Gotham’s rooftops nearly blind, a camera pressed to his face. He has also learned to make sure nobody is around to catch him. What he does is not strictly illegal, but he is taking pictures of vigilantes at night and enough people take offence at that. He is not wearing a mask himself, but he still cannot be found out here. His parents are already not happy that he has not given up photography – a mere waste of time that will neither get him into a prestigious college nor bring the Drake name any profits – even without knowing about his nightly activities.
The roof was empty when Tim climbed up on it to get a better angle of Robin. It is a rare enough occurrence that Robin is out alone without the protective shadow of Batman hovering nearby and Tim does not want to miss a minute of it. So, he is crouching on the roof, his camera trained on Robin, when someone appears suddenly next to him and shoves him over the edge.
A sound escapes Tim’s lips, half a gasp due to the force of the unexpected push, and in the brief second he is hovering in the air, he can see Robin look up searchingly – and then he is falling.
Tim has a lot of experience with falling, but he will never get used to that navel-jerking feeling of tumbling into the unknown, those first moments of blind panic at having lost the ground beneath his feet. He clings to his camera, curls like he was taught to, and hopes fervently that he will not break anything. Bruises are easy to hide and something he has dealt with dozens of times before. Broken bones, however, need a bit more than his first-aid kit has to offer – and cause more questions than he cares to answer.
The falling is over as soon as it began. He was not too high up but the impact is still painful. The crack of plastic thunders in his ears and that is what throws his momentum, makes him tense too much as he tries to save his camera, and he feels his ankle bend.
Pain flares up, sudden and hot, before he comes to a panting halt on the pavement, a sharp throbbing in his foot and right side. He just lies there for a long moment, afraid to move his ankle but glad that his lungs still work as they are supposed to. The roof above him is empty. Nobody is looking down after him.
But – Tim did not just fall from nothing, did not trip. Somebody was there and pushed him. Just as he is sitting up, determined to have a look at his camera and then his foot before he gets out of here, he hears footsteps coming closes.
“Well, what do we have here?” a muffled voice asks.
Tim whirls around, but all he can see is a fist flying towards his face. And then nothing.
---
Tim comes to slowly. That in itself is a warning sign that something is wrong. He has a rather conflicted relationship with sleep and he does not slumber. Either he is awake or not. This in-between is strange, making his thoughts all sluggish.
He blinks, his vision curiously blurry, and wonders about the cracks in the ceiling – and then the pain hits. A low, insistent pounding like drum beats fills his head, growing worse with every breath he takes as if the miniscule movement alone is aggravating it.
With a rush, Tim remembers what happened. The rooftop. Being shoved. The cracking of his camera.
He shoots upright, battling the way the room spins before his vision settles. Bile rises in his throat but he swallows carefully, unwilling to give into the panic rising inside him. Perhaps his father’s lessons will have their use, after all.
His ankle throbs, but Tim ignores it for now in order to find out where he is, because this is somewhere inside instead of outside in the streets, and he definitely did not make it home.
The room is small and bare. Cracks run through the grey cement covering the ground and walls and ceiling. There is no window, but a lone light bulb dangles in the middle of the room, offering a bit of light. The ground is stained in places, the origin of which Tim does not want to think too closely about. No furniture, just a heavy metal door and Tim himself being cuddled into a corner.
This is bad. If his father finds out what he was doing, why someone managed to snatch him right off the street – he hopes this is not a play for ransom. His parents are out of the country and the last thing he and his father did before they left were yell at each other. Tim is not at all sure they are willing to pay a single dollar to get him back. And if so, likely only to preserve the family name.
Of course, Tim does not want to think about what other reasons there are for someone to kidnap him. Children go missing from Gotham’s streets every day, and only a few of them are found again. Mostly, they do not have anything to look for them. Tim does not, either.
The pounding in his head grows worse. With some effort, Tim pushes the growing panic down. Before he gives up on himself, he should try to find out more.
Carefully, Tim gets to his feet. The room starts spinning again, which is rather worrying, but it snaps into sudden focus when he puts some weight on his right ankle. A whimper breaks over his lips, echoing hauntingly in the empty room, as he sinks back to the ground.
Don’t be broken, he thinks as he pushes up the leg of his trousers. The ankle is swollen and the pain intensifies when he applies pressure. When he is careful, though, he can move it in every direction and he cannot feel any bones obviously out of place. That does not have to mean anything, he knows. Ever since he started following the masks around, he read up on first-aid, aware of how many things can go wrong. Hopefully it is just a sprain, although that does not make it any less painful, and it might still mess his leg up for good.
Before Tim can convince himself to get back up and try again, he hears a key being shoved in the lock and then the door is yanked open, making a terrible screeching noise that grates in his ears. The light outside is much brighter, stabbing Tim’s eyes so he cannot make out much of anything as he scrambles backwards, trying to get away from whoever has entered the room. Something big is thrown in and then the door slams shut again without explanation.
The something is a person clad in yellow and green and –
“Robin.” Tim’s voice breaks halfway through the name. His mouth is suddenly dry and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.
This has just become so much worse. Someone did not just push Tim off a roof just because they could or for ransom, but they got Robin, too. Either Robin wanted to help and was overpowered, or they were after him and Tim is just collateral damage. Either way, he is doomed. Because he is not hard to catch, crawling around the city at night to take pictures of vigilantes. But Robin is in an entirely different league.
Robin looks up at him, eyes wide behind the mask, then untangles himself into a more dignified position even though his suit remains rumpled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
Tim does not know what could possibly be good about that if this is the reality he woke up to.
“What happened?” he hates how weak he sounds, how young. His father would have his hide for that – but his father is not here because Tim had to do something forbidden and get himself caught. He breathes. In and out. In and out.
Robin is here. That means not all is lost. If nothing else is certain, Tim knows that Batman will come for Robin and they will not leave him behind, even if they find out about the pictures. They are the good guys. They might tell his parents about it – which will undoubtedly not end well for him either – but they will not leave him to die in this place.
“These assholes want me to help them out.” Robin makes a rude gesture at the door, then looks a bit sheepish at Tim. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”
A weight drops off Tim’s shoulders. It is not his fault that Robin was caught. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it does not sit right with him, still.
“They went after me first,” Tim says, remembering clearly that Robin was still free and unbothered while Tim was already falling. He might have even gotten it on camera, that last, searching look around at Tim’s yell. But his camera is not here. They might have left it broken on the ground when they took Tim. It is unlikely he will ever see it again.
It is stupid to be bothered by that. It is only a camera and he can afford to buy a new one. But it is the one thing that brings him joy.
“Yeah.” Robin runs a hand through his hair, putting it into complete disarray. “You’re supposed to be my motivation.”
Oh. “They took me hostage to make you help them?” Tim is no stranger to being pulled into other people’s games. His parents’ business partners do that all the time, either hoping to gain something for the company or to get some advantage over his parents. It is almost familiar, to be used for his worth to other people instead on his own merit.
“Seems like it,” Robin says and sounds apologetic. He is also watching Tim very closely as if he expects him to have a breakdown. But Tim has been taught to appear calm even if he feels anything but.
“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”
Tim should be glad. If all goes well and they do not die here, his parents might never find out what happened. He does not have to tell Robin his last name. He is just a nobody who had bad luck. Once they are out of here, he can just vanish. If they get out of here.
Robin cocks his head to the side, concern crossing his face. “You’re a civilian,” he explains then puffs out his chest and points at his suit. “That’s what this whole thing is about. Protecting people.”
Perhaps people who do not stalk them and take pictures without asking, who do not put themselves in danger constantly just because they are hoping for the right shot.
But Tim believes him anyway. He was raised by a cynic but he knows Robin. Knows him through endless nights of watching him do the right thing, of putting his life on the line for others.
“What do they want you to do?” Tim asks, changing the topic without much finesse.
He is also not sure he wants to know the answer to that. What if they are asking something terrible of Robin, like killing somebody. Tim cannot be the reason for Robin to do that.
But Robin scoffs, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Rob a bank or five.”
That is surprisingly mundane. Banks are robbed every day without the help of vigilantes. Some even successfully. “What do they need you for then?”
To his surprise, Robin pouts. “I could totally rob a bank, and probably better than them, too” he says, entirely missing the point.
Despite their situation, Tim finds himself grinning at Robin’s offended tone. He imagines him as some kind of modern Robin Hood, robbing a bank and then making it rain money right outside of it.
Then he sobers. They are still locked up in some cell and he has a busted ankle and a possible concussion. “Well, you shouldn’t do it.”
Robin’s expression grows serious, too. “They said they’d hurt you if I don’t,” he says in that same tone Tim’s father does when he is testing Tim, fishing for a reaction.
Now it is Tim’s turn to be offended. “You’re Robin,” he exclaims.
Robin nods but does not give an answer. Instead, he leans forwards, seemingly unconcerned with their situation. “What’s your name?”
Tim could lie. He is good at it and it would surely save him a lot of trouble. But it is not every day that one meets their hero and despite the circumstances, he wants this interaction between them to be real.
“Tim,” he says, hesitating long enough to make Robin frown. He still holds his last name back. That does not have a place here, and there is a small chance that Robin knows their next-door neighbours are called Drake and have a son named Tim, even though his life is certainly interesting enough to not bother with who is living down the street.
“Do you trust me, Tim?” Robin asks, his voice gentler now as if he does not want to spook Tim. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
With a start, Tim realizes Robin thinks he is afraid. Well, he is, but for the entirely wrong reasons. They are in a bad situation but it could be so much worse. For one, Tim could be here alone.
He nods because that seems like the thing to do. He is cold and in pain and his hero might be forced to commit a crime to keep him alive. While he is aware of all of that, he can barely touch those thoughts, like his head is underwater but he is seeing lights on the surface, jumping out of reach whenever he reaches for them.
Tim is fine. Beneath the mask, Robin is just a kid, too, and Tim will not make it harder on him by whining. Or panicking. That will not do either of them any good.
“Batman will come for you, right?” It is a mistake to ask, Tim notices that right away when Robin’s shoulders stiffen.
He does not understand. Batman and Robin are a team. They have each other’s back and, of course, one would come running when the other is in danger. Right?
“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin says, crossing his arms in front of him only to let them fall again a moment later.
That certainly puts a crack in Tim’s picture-perfect idea of his favourite vigilantes. He knows better than most that things are seldom as calm and shiny as they appear on the surface, but Batman and Robin – nothing is supposed to taint that.
“I’m sorry,” he says because he is not sure what else to do. His mother taught him that other people’s weaknesses are there to be exploited, but he does not want to be that kind of person.
Robin looks at him, then sighs. “No, you’re right.” He sounds conflicted, making him sound even younger. Like that, he is more human, mask or not, but that is not helpful in the situation they are in. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”
Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.
“I can’t fight,” Tim points out, afraid that he will be the reason Robin gets hurt, after all. He had some training, bullies and his family name made that a necessity, but he is no Robin, no hero.
“You don’t have to,” Robin says, full of conviction. “I’ll protect you.”
Tim wants to ask how but he has learned that too many questions only make things harder, at times. Instead, he offers, “You could pretend to be me.”
He is not sure where it comes from, but a plan is forming in front of his eyes. Tim is a bit smaller than Robin and a lot scrawnier, but people tend to look only at the suit. And they only needed a few moments to jump the kidnappers anyway. As soon as an actual fight begins, the ruse will be up.
“They’ll notice,” Robin scoffs. He does not quite dismiss Tim, but Tim knows that tone very well. It is hard not to let it get to him because some part of him desperately wants to impress Robin, but he has practice with that, too. “And what good would that bring us anyway?”
“We’ll swap clothes,” Tim explains, shamefully eager at the very idea of touching the suit. “They don’t think I’m a danger, so when they come back, they’ll go right for the suit and ignore you. So, you can take them by surprise.”
It is a good plan, or as good as they will likely get. They are locked in a windowless room that does not stop spinning before Tim’s eyes, and only one of them is really capable of getting them out if Robin does not want to wait for Batman – and Tim does not want to either, yearning for some pain meds, an ice pack and his bed. Taking the bad guys by surprise is their only chance, really. Otherwise, they are simply two children sitting in a trap.
“I’m Robin,” Robin insists as if Tim has forgotten that. As if, in addition to taking his clothes, he suggested stripping him of the title as well. “I can’t take off the mask.”
There is that, true. Tim opens his mouth to say Robin can keep the mask, that they will just keep their heads down until it is too late for the kidnappers to realize the wrong boy is in the suit. What falls from his lips instead is, “I know who you are.”
Robin moves quicker than Tim’s probably concussed brain can follow and then he is right in from of Tim, shoving him against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the air out of Tim’s lungs and, before he can react, Robin’s arm is pressed against his throat, not quite choking him but a definite threat.
“What did you say?” Robin growls in a clear imitation of Batman, a few decades too young. It still causes a shiver to run down Tim’s back.
“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, only to have Robin increase the pressure. How did things go so wrong so quickly? He just – masks, secret identities. Tim has gotten so comfortable with following them around that he forgot nobody is supposed to know who they are. “I live next door to you,” he blurts out, not caring anymore about keeping his last name secret.
For the first time since waking up in this room, he is afraid instead of just panicked. When he started following Batman and Robin around, he knew he could never let them catch him. They might be the good guys, but they do have their identities to protect, and he has seen countless times what Batman does to the people that cross him. He did not even try to find out who they are. It just made sense.
“I haven’t told anyone,” Tim croaks, growing desperate when Robin does nothing but stare at him, never relenting his hold. “I won’t.”
“How?”
Tim whimpers when Robin shoves him again, aggravating his headache. This is not supposed to happen. He never thought Robin would like him, really, the kid with stalkerish tendencies, but he did not think meeting his hero would go quite like this either.
“I’m running BatWatch.”
That stupid blog that started as a challenge to himself but has quickly become the centre of Tim’s life, uploading pictures and commentary on Gotham’s very own vigilante bats. All complimentary, of course, because they protect the city and certain journalists just do not know what they are writing. Tim just tries to put the Bats back into a more positive light. Sometimes, it makes him feel like a hero in his own right. That is his secret identity.
After a long, tense moment, Robin’s hold loosens, even if he does not take the arm away. His expression is still closed off. “You? The blog has been around for years.”
Tim takes pride in that. It grew from a few blurry pictures every other week to detailed articles. People like to complain about Batman, and Tim just wants to remind people of all the good the vigilantes are doing.
“You’ve been Robin for years,” Tim shoots back, voice still more of a croak from the shock. He is not sure the danger is over.
Robin sits back. His hands are still on Tim but not quite as threatening anymore. That can change again any moment, Tim knows, so he clears his throat and just breathes.
“You know who Batman is and you never told anybody?” The incredulity in Robin’s tone is insulting, but Tim guesses a certain paranoia is part of the job.
“You’re heroes,” Tim exclaims and winces inwardly. That made him sound entirely too young. There is no hiding he is still a kid but he does not have to act immaturely, too.
“And you want me to believe it is a mere coincidence that you were in the right place to be kidnapped along with me?” Robin says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, which Tim does not fully hear because his mind is stuck on right place. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”
The accusation hurts worse than the shove earlier, although it leaves him just as trapped. “I would never,” Tim says and glares in the best imitation of his mother as he can manage.
Feeling, cornered, he bats Robin’s hands away with what little strength he has left, pain and disappointment having taken their toll. To his surprise, Robin lets him go. He gets up and ignores the way his vision swims and the pain in his ankle flares up. There is nowhere to go. The room is still bare and the door is still locked. But he needs to get away from Robin and his accusations, so he limps to the far corner and sinks rather ungraciously back to the floor.
Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he can hear his father laugh at his naivety. What did he think would happen? That Robin would be impressed? That he would expect a scrawny teenager to be good for anything? He had been dreaming about meeting Robin for years but – well, he should have listened better to what his parents say about dreams.
“You’re hurt,” Robin says, sounding sheepish.
Tim glances over his shoulder and sees that Robin stood up, too, but he thankfully does not come closer. In fact, he looks a bit lost, all suited up with no way to escape.
“It’s nothing,” Tim mutters, looking back at the wall. A crack runs through it right in front of his face. He imagines digging here and finding nothing but more cement. A grave in the middle of the city.
“You were limping.”
What does that have to do with anything? “Just a strain.” And definitely a concussion. He should better not mention that, he is already enough of a liability.
“We can’t get out of here if you can’t walk,” Robin says, sounding almost agitated, but when Tim looks at him it does not show on his face.
So, this is how it is. He knows this game very well. “Then you had better leave me behind. That’s safer anyway if I’m one of them.”
That cutting tone is from his mother. Any other time, he would hate how much of his parents he recognizes in himself, but it does come in handy every now and then. Although it does not bring him any satisfaction to watch Robin flinch. Tim is the faulty one here, the obstacle to overcome. It is better to just take him out of the equation.
He does not want to be left behind, of course. Chances are low that the kidnappers will simply let him go when they do not need him anymore. And he has no particular desire to find out where Gotham’s lost children end up.
“I’m – I won’t leave you here.” Robin has come closer, looking down at Tim with a seriousness that hurts.
Tim smiles, but it feels all wrong, hollow yet sharp at the edges. It should not surprise him that he does not measure up. Just because he looks up to Robin does not mean that Robin will find anything worthwhile when looking back. Something about him always turns people away, he is never quite enough.
“They won’t need me once you’re gone,” Tim points out and does not say that he is very aware that this will likely end with a bullet in his head. It is not like he can change that. He is tired and, for once, wants nothing more than to go home – without putting Robin in more danger.
Silence stretches between them for a long moment in which Tim thinks he really is doomed. Then Robin says, “Come,” his jaw set with new determination. “I’ll need your clothes.”
Tim does not move, even as Robin begins to take off the suit, no trace of hesitation left in his movements. In the privacy of his mind, Tim has longed for years to wear the Robin colours. But not like this, not here, not when the real Robin has already made his judgement of Tim.
“What about the mask?” Tim asks quietly, intent on reminding Robin what a stupid idea this is.
“I can’t let them see my face, so I’ll keep it on,” Robin says matter-of-factly, as if this very problem did not end in a physical altercation only minutes before. “But you can stay with your back to the door and I’ll jump them before they can notice anything.”
That is what Tim thought they should do earlier, but now he is full of doubt. Turning his back to the door alone fills him with uneasiness. He might not be a fighter, but it feels wrong to serve himself on a silver platter, too. And, since Tim is the hostage in this scenario, what if they do not go for Robin, which would squander their element of surprise. What if Robin will not be able to deal with whoever is coming for them? What if there are too many opponents? What if –
“Hey.” Suddenly, Robin is right in front of Tim, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and blatant concern on his face. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
Tim takes a deep breath, concentrates on the ground beneath him and the warmth from Robin’s hand and even the way his ankle throbs. The situation is not ideal, but he is alive and mostly intact. He is not alone.
He believes Robin. What would life be if he could not trust his hero anymore? Robin helps people. It is his job.
But Tim has been following Batman and Robin around for a bit too long. He has seen them share street food during long patrols. He has watched Robin jump around in circles around Batman when bored and limp home after a bad fight. Beneath the mask, Tim knows very well, is just a boy not much older than him. Jason Todd, child of Gotham’s darkest streets, full of foul words and endless bravado.
This is not a heroic story. Tim is not behind the camera taking pictures. He is not a bystander, sequestered safely away on a rooftop. This is real. And Tim might have dreamt of himself as Robin – or at least as Robin’s sidekick – but not like this. He is acutely aware of how inadequate he is.
And yet, Tim nods. If he knows anything, it is how to pretend, how to keep his head held high. His hands, when he unzips his jacket, are shaking. If Robin notices, he does not comment on it. That makes it easier, if only slightly.
It is hard not to stare as the Robin suit lands piece by piece on the ground, rumpled and nearly unassuming, just flimsy looking material in too bright colours. The shaking gets worse as Tim reaches for it, but he does not allow himself to hesitate. It is now or never.
The suit does not quite fit. Tim is too small and too scrawny. Worse is the way his skin burns, touching something forbidden. He guesses he will not have those dreams of being Robin anymore, considering how miserable he feels while pretending for even just a moment.
“You look good,” Rob- Jason says. Because in Tim’s clothes he looks altogether too young, just another boy stranded in a bad situation. Tim cannot detect any condescension in his tone.
Still, Tim scoffs and avoids looking down at himself. “Let’s hope it fools them.”
He would be surprised if it does. He certainly feels like a bad impostor, radiating his uneasiness for everybody to pick up.
Robin opens his mouth, doubtlessly to tell Tim some more reassuring lies, but Tim turns away, effectively cutting him off. He just wants to get this over with.
He lies down on the ground, trying for a posture that is not too conspicuous while still allowing Jason to blend into the background. Even though all his instincts scream that it is wrong, he turns his back to the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jason put his hood up and mess up his hair until his face is shrouded in shadows and the mask is not so obvious anymore.
And then, they wait.
Or, rather Tim plans to wait. Jason apparently does not deal too well with silences because he first shifts around impatiently, then huffs. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, Tim –”
“I’m fine,” Tim cuts him off. This is his one-in-a-lifetime chance of being cooped up with Robin, but talking did not turn out too well before, and he would rather not make things worse. “You don’t need to keep asking.”
It is also not a lie. The pain in both his ankle and his head have dulled to a low throbbing and the panic is under control. He is aware this will change once they are moving again, but for now everything is all right.
Jason hums, clearly not believing him, but then he says, “Actually, I wanted to know why you never said anything.”
Tim closes his eyes briefly. “About what?”
“Who we are. If you knew all this time.” Of course, Jason will not let this go. Perhaps he has a right to, considering how carefully Batman has hidden his identity all these years.
“It’s a secret.” Tim cranes his neck to stare at Jason. He admires Robin and would never endanger him like that. But if Jason is still not fully convinced Tim is not working with the enemy here, his doubt should be expected.
But then Jason asks, “Why didn’t you talk to us?” His tone is way too innocent for such a loaded question.
Tim is silent for a long moment. The truth would be that he did not want anyone to stop him from going out at night, but he can hardly say that. Jason Todd might understand the lack of parental supervision that lets Tim do as he pleases, but as Robin, he might ask questions that Tim really does not want to answer. And Batman surely would not let that stand. He is happy with things as they are. Getting a glimpse of all the excitement from afar is enough.
He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You have better things to do.” Better than indulging Tim’s stupid dreams.
He feels Jason’s stare on his back but does not look up again. “Well, what if someone kidnapped you and made you tell them?”
The veiled accusation sits like hot coals in Tim’s stomach. He wants to snap back, say that nobody would kidnap him. But the very fact that he is sitting in a locked room with Robin right at this moment makes that argument void.
“I’m sorry,” Jason says when Tim does not answer. He should not apologize when he is right.
Footsteps come closer, effectively cutting their conversation off. Saved by the very real possibility of being killed, Tim thinks and tries to relax his tense muscles.
The door opens with the same screeching protest as before and Tim feels woefully unprepared. All he has to do is lie here and let the real Robin do the work and yet his hands start shaking again.
“Have you thought about our offer, little birdie?” a voice asks, sounding too close for comfort already. “Or do we need to make the kid scream?”
Don’t go to Jason, Tim thinks fervently, even as he forces himself to keep his face turned away. The entire game will be up before they can even make the first move if they recognize him.
There is another set of footsteps, perhaps two, but Tim cannot look up. He has to give Jason the chance to get them out.
“Ignoring us won’t –” The man cuts off with a grunt and Tim looks up just in time to see him doubling over while Jason whirls around him, using his leg as a ladder to jump up and kick at the second guy before punching the first in the temple with his elbow. The man goes down like someone cut his strings.
All Tim can do is try to not get crushed and watch as Jason never loses momentum but makes short work of the other two men. It is over so quickly that Tim is left with too much adrenaline in the sudden silence, his heart beating as loud as a war drum and his hands balled into fists he thankfully did not have to use.
“Yes,” Jason exclaims. His grin is very much out of place but Tim still finds himself answering in kind. He did not even do anything and yet he feels victorious. “The credit goes to you, of course, since it was your idea.”
Tim wants to say that they are not yet out of here, but his face heats up and he lets his eyes drop. Looking at the unconscious men is better than to meet Jason’s undeserved praise.
“I mean it, Tim,” Jason adds, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You were already thinking up plans while I wasted time on being angry. You kept a cool head. Not everybody could.”
The warmth from Jason’s hand and words spreads right into Tim’s core. They should not just stand around but get going but Tim cannot help himself. He does not get compliments like this, barely does anything worth noticing. Even ignoring the whole kidnapping, this is a night he will never forget.
“We should make sure they won’t be able to follow us,” Tim says, still feeling the glow in his cheeks. “And we should probably change clothes again.” Silently, he prays Jason will agree that there is no time for that. Even just pretending, the suit is a comfort now that they survived the first hurdle of getting out of here.
“Let’s stay like this. The colour suits you.” Jason winks but gets serious a moment later. He leans forward and fishes two pairs of handcuffs out of a pocket of the suit. “Put these on two of them. I’ll take care of the third.”
It is strange to move the unconscious bodies, even though they are definitely breathing. There is not even blood. Tim hurries to finish the task and then watches Jason string up the last guy with his own shoelaces.
“Ready to go?” Jason asks as he gets to his feet, looking strangely energetic for someone in their position. “I think I know the way out, so follow after me. We’ll try to avoid running into any more of these idiots.”
So, there are more. Their victory quickly turns sour at this reminder that they have not yet escaped. But Tim nods. He is very much out of his depth and really, really glad he is not alone.
At the door, Jason pauses again. “Will you be okay with your ankle?” Concern passes over his face and he looks Tim up and down as if he considers carrying him.
“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. He will not slow them down and he will not make this harder on Jason. It is bad enough that he had to be rescued.
When Jason turns away, thankfully believing him, Tim takes a probing step. His ankle hurts and he knows it will only get worse from here on out. But he stands by his word. He will manage. Once he is safely at home, he can put some ice on it and recover. And home is so much more within reach now.
Jason hurries ahead, light-footed and with the easy elegance of a fighter. Following after him, Tim feels clumsy and loud. He closes the door to their cell and then looks cautiously down the hall. It looks identical on both sides but Jason never hesitates over which way to choose. That has to be enough.
They make it out without issue. Tim’s chest hurts as if he held his breath the entire time until they finally step out into the night air. He breathes and feels a smile spread on his face. They did it.
Jason touches his elbow briefly, motioning him to keep walking. Of course, they are not out of danger yet. So, Tim follows, down dark streets then up to the roofs. It is different to walk Gotham next to Robin, even if Tim is still the one wearing the suit. It feels like nothing in this city can touch them.
The throbbing in his ankle has turned into a constant burning. He does not say anything, though. It is still manageable and they are not yet safe. Still, he is glad when Jason is finally content with how far they have come and signals Tim to stop.
“How’s the foot?” Jason asks and reaches out for it almost as soon as they are sitting down.
Out of instinct, Tim withdraws. He is not used to being coddled, so they do not need to start now. “It’s fine.” At Jason’s blatantly unbelieving look, he adds, “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be right as rain.”
Jason clearly does not like that. “We should do an x-ray, just to be sure.”
“No hospitals,” Tim refuses immediately, the vehemence in his voice biting. If his parents find out about this they will never again let him set a single foot out their house unchaperoned.
And since they got out without anybody learning who Tim is, chances are good that he can keep this entire night secret. His parents will likely not come back before his ankle is healed, and even so he could lie to them. A sudden hospital visit, on the odder hand, is not so easily explained away.
Jason narrows his eyes but wisely does not decide to ask about the hidden implication. “We’ve got all we need at home.”
With home Jason means the manor. Bruce Wayne’s manor. Or even the rumoured Batcave.
“I can’t go home with you.” The mere thought has his brain sputtering to a halt. He needs to go to his own house, sort out his ankle and concussion, and then probably look for something else to take photos of. Batman cannot be made aware that he has a stalker, especially not a kid running around rooftops at night. “And you can’t tell anybody about me.”
He is not making a very good case for himself here, Tim realizes, feeding into Jason’s suspicions about him.
“I feel like that’s my line.” With a pointed look, Jason asks, “Is anybody even waiting for you at home?”
Tim hates the way his shoulders straighten automatically. Jason has no reason to suspect that his home life is anything but orderly and normal. Apart from him being out alone at night. Plenty of children do that, certainly, sneaking out of their window with no one being the wiser. They would not want their parents to find out. Nothing here indicates that Tim’s parents are away from home more often than they actually sleep in their own beds or that Tim has been managing his own life without anybody’s input for years. Nothing indicates that, one of these days, Tim’s father will run out of patience and beat some sense into him instead of just shouting and throwing things, or that his mother’s disappointment in him will simply grow too much to bear and she will not come home at all anymore.
Tim plasters a smile on his face and rolls his eyes. The effort is wasted, certainly, but appearances must be upheld. “I very much hope they’re not waiting because then they’d know I snuck out.” If he times it right, he will even miss the housekeeper who’s coming in the next day, and then he will have all the time in the world to sort himself out.
Jason does not believe him. He stares at Tim, looking suddenly much older than his years. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “How do you do this, Alfred?”, but Tim does not know who Alfred is or what he has to do with this, so he ignores it.
Finally, Jason nods, even if he does not look happy about it. “I’ll bring you home.”
Tim already told him that he is living next door, but that does not mean he wants Jason to come. “You can’t –”
But Jason shakes his head, interrupting him. “I’ll drop you off outside your door, then we’ll exchange numbers. And you will call me if you need anything.” It sounds like a threat more than an offer of help.
Tim should be elated. He has met his hero, got out of their adventure together more or less intact, and he gets Robin’s number out of it, even if he already knows he will never use it. He also got to wear the Robin suit, no matter the reason.
“We should change our clothes,” Tim says because he will not be tricked into going to the Wayne house after all because they put this off.
He realizes his caution was right when Jason starts grinning. “Oh, no,” he exclaims far too happily. “You will keep that on and I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I check in on you.”
Check in – the only person checking in on Tim is the housekeeper, who is paid handsomely for it and for not telling anybody that Tim’s parents are constantly out of the country. “You don’t need to check in on me,” Tim says, barely able to comprehend the concept. “I’m perfectly fine.”
He is. Or he will be if only people stopped putting their noses into his business.
“It’s non-negotiable, Tim” Jason says and cocks his head. “Now, do you want to stay stubborn and let me carry you or can I call someone to drive us?”
Neither of these, Tim thinks. Especially because the only one Jason would call that Tim can think of is Batman. Then again, Jason did not sound so eager to have Batman come for them, earlier, so perhaps that is an empty threat.
“You don’t have to carry me,” Tim says pointedly but does not make a move to get up. He will when they get going again. Until then, he is happy to rest.
Jason clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to let you limp,” he says as if that is the worst thing that happened this night. “And to stop your next argument, they guy who’ll pick us up knows all about the suit.”
So, not Batman? But it does not matter. He is fine, and he really cannot have anyone else see him and find out about this night. “I can –”
“Listen, Tim,” Jason cuts him off and puts that damned hand back on Tim’s shoulder as if he knows how grounding that is. “I’m not the motherly type. That’s what we’ve got Dick for. But this was a stressful night and you’re hurt. Let me please make sure that you get home in one piece.”
He sounds earnest, but also like he is reaching the end of the rope. And Tim does not want that. It was a stressful night. “Fine.” If he is honest with himself, giving in is a relief because he really does not want to get back to his feet and his vision is still swimming, although he better not even hint at that if he wants to get Jason off his back. If he is that concerned about a busted ankle, he will definitely not let Tim out of sight if he learns about the possible – definite – concussion.
“Great, I knew you’d see reason.” Jason claps his hands and gets to his feet, seemingly not at all tired. “Now, let me make a call and then you can give me your number.”
Tim hums and leans back, desperate to just rest his eyes for a moment. His heart is still beating too quickly, not yet reassured that the danger is over. He listens to Jason talk on the phone and then to him telling some stories about too big manors with perfect banisters. Tim wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the two of them on this roof, but his camera was lost somewhere in that basement or on the way there. He will grieve for it tomorrow. Right now, he is just glad that he is alive, happy to let Jason talk and bask in the surrealism of this night.
Perhaps he dreamt this whole thing up. Exhaustion might have caught up with him and he slipped at home, hit his head. Perhaps – but then Jason nudges him awake and says, “Alfie’s here.”
They climb down the roof and into a car and the old man who introduces himself as Alfred has the warmest concerned expression that Tim has ever seen.
No, he decides, this was real. He is in the Robin suit and tomorrow Jason will visit him and pretend to believe whatever lies Tim will make up about his parents. Swimming in the exhausted void left behind by too much adrenaline, Tim grins at Jason, carefree and just happy to be alive. With a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, Jason grins back.
Yes, very much real.
#whumptober2021#no.4#do you trust me?#batman#fanfiction#tim drake#jason todd#jason is robin#hurt tim drake#My writing
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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic
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Chapter 45: Martin Prime
“I Spy, with my mental eye, something that begins with…C.”
“Croft?”
“N—yes. Wait, how did you know that?” Jon sounded slightly indignant. “I didn’t even know you knew that word.”
Martin snorted. “Then you’re cheating.”
Jon sighed theatrically. “All right, fine, but which croft?”
“Hmm.” Martin pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The one two hills over, with the stone fence that was falling down in places. The one you had a hard time not seeing as sinister.”
“Well done.” Jon cupped Martin’s cheek in his hand and gave him a gentle kiss. “Right, your turn. Let’s go with…hmm. Let’s say Gertrude’s storage unit.”
It was a silly and relatively pointless game, but Martin loved Jon so much for coming up with it. They’d played I Spy several times when they were in Scotland because Jon had misunderstood Martin’s attempt to explain the one helpful thing he’d been given during his brief stint in therapy, but it had helped both of them, so Martin hadn’t told Jon until much, much later that it wasn’t what he’d meant. Still, it had been fun to play, and it had given them a brief moment of levity during their trek through the fearscapes between their tiny haven of sanctuary in Scotland and their ultimate destination in London. Martin had joked about playing it at Christmas, and Jon had apparently taken that to heart.
He’d come up with this variant not long after, and they’d played it a few times since. One of them would select a location they were both familiar with, and the other had to try and remember what it looked like, then pick something to “spy”. One part game, one part memory exercise, it was a continual surprise to Martin how many little details he could still picture in his head.
He sometimes suspected Jon of changing his answers solely so Martin could be “correct,” in the same way that Martin had never had a favorite color until Jon had guessed it to be green, but at least it was a fun exercise.
“Right,” he said, trying to cast his mind back over the storage unit. That one would be trickier. There’d just been so much crammed into a relatively small space, and Martin had admittedly been a little distracted by relief over having Jon back and talking to him, seeming to actually enjoy his company. It was hard to focus on details beyond the plastic explosives crammed in the hard case.
“I Spy, with my mental eye—” he began.
Jon’s fingers suddenly touched Martin’s lips as he hissed a warning to stay quiet. Martin froze and held his breath, and then he heard what Jon did—voices in the corridor. They were muffled but distinct, which did at least mean it wasn’t someone who didn’t need to be down there, but…
After a moment, though, Martin caught a laugh that sounded familiar and relaxed. “It’s them.”
“That’s…not good. It’s the middle of the day.” There was a rustle as Jon got to his feet. “God, what happened now?”
Martin bit his lip. Being blind and living essentially underground meant his internal clock was a bit off, but he trusted Jon. If it was midday, that meant it was Wednesday; Past Jon had been gone less than two days. He was probably still in Beijing. Nothing bad had happened to Jon while he was in China, unless there was something he hadn’t told Martin, and he probably hadn’t even had time to get into Pu Songling yet. Which meant something had happened to one of the others. Best case scenario, they’d uncovered a statement that bothered them or they wanted clarification on. Worst-case…
The door opened, and Past Martin’s voice came in, obviously in the middle of a sentence. “—like I’m offering to show you a pipe of Amontillado we’re keeping down here, it’s—oh, hey, you’re up already, that’s good.”
“What’s happened? Did something go wrong?” Jon asked urgently.
“Depends on your definition of ‘wrong,’ I suppose.”
There was a slight, nearly imperceptible creak as the door opened wider, and then a short pause before a female voice that sounded rather familiar spoke. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
Martin sat up a little straighter. “Melanie?”
He felt a surprising mix of delight and regret. He’d come to like the feisty firebrand in the short time they’d actually been able to get to know each other, despite the strain of the world having ended, and one thing he’d privately lamented when they’d made the decision to come back in time was that he wouldn’t get the chance to talk with her again, so having the opportunity was an unexpected pleasure. On the other hand, the fact that she was here and being brought down probably meant that she’d been trapped into working at the Institute, and that sent a stab of aching melancholy through his heart. They’d wanted so badly to keep her from turning bitter and angry…
She didn’t sound angry, though, at least not yet. Then again, their Melanie hadn’t at first either. “Are you clones or—you knew my name. What are you?”
Martin couldn’t help the grin that curled across his mouth, even as he got to his feet. “Me? Oh, I’m the Antichrist’s plus-one.”
The surprised laugh sounded like Tim’s. Melanie actually sounded delighted. “Does that mean he’s the Antichrist?”
“Assuming you’re pointing to Jon, yes.”
“Melanie.” Jon sounded like he was struggling to keep his composure. “It’s—it’s good to see you. What are you doing here?”
“Getting initiated. Or hazed, maybe. Depends on how you want to call it.” There was a rustle of fabric, and Martin guessed Melanie had just folded her arms across her chest. “You’re looking at the newest Archival Assistant.”
“Oh, Melanie,” Jon murmured, his voice full of regret.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, evil fear things, spooky stories, you can check out any time you like but you can never leave, today we are canceling the Apocalypse, blah blah blah.”
“Any other pop culture references you want to throw out there?” Martin asked dryly.
He could imagine Melanie shrugging. “I mean, you might have to give me a minute to come up with a few. But they told me all about the crap they have to put up with. We have to put up with, I guess.” She paused. “So, neither of you really answered my question.”
“Melanie King, meet the Primes,” Tim said. “Jon and Martin, meet the crazy woman who knew what she was getting into and did it anyway. Ow!” he added, punctuated by the dull, wet smack of somebody being punched in the side. “Jeez, what were you, a boxer in another life?”
“You say that like I’m not a boxer in this one,” Melanie grumbled. “I just don’t compete is all. Prime whats?”
“So you know those pop culture references?” Past Martin said. “Here’s one more. They’re—they’re Jon and me, from the future. They’re the reason we’re trying to stop the Apocalypse. The reason we know we need to stop the Apocalypse,” he corrected himself. “Tim calls them the Primes, like—”
“Like Spock Prime. Got it. Okay.” Martin could picture Melanie’s scowl pretty clearly; it had been more or less her default expression for a while. “Well, then. Unless one of you can mind-meld, you’re going to have to prove that some other way.”
“No, fortunately, the ability to plant thoughts and memories in someone’s head is one I was spared.” Jon sighed heavily. “I—I don’t know if there’s anything I can…m-most of what I know about, about your future counterpart are things that haven’t happened yet, o-or the others could have told us.”
Martin pursed his lips as a thought occurred to him. “I can think of one thing, but you probably don’t want it bruited about.”
“I seriously doubt that there’s anything you can come up with I wouldn’t want them knowing.” There was a challenging edge to Melanie’s voice that was all too familiar.
“Melanie—” Sasha began. Great, everyone was there.
“No. You think you know some big secret about me, something I wouldn’t have told you until later? Fine. Say it. I look forward to being able to look you in the eye and tell you you’re wrong.”
Martin sighed in exasperation. “You got shot by a ghost while you were in India. In the leg. You told the doctors it was a—a mugging, right? They couldn’t find anything in the scans, but trust me when I say it’s probably still in there.”
There was another one of those long pauses. “Fuck.”
“I did warn you,” Martin pointed out.
“You did, and I should have listened.” Melanie snorted. “I mean, obviously. I’ve only been working here for three hours and I already know that’s the number one Archives rule: Always listen to Martin.”
“Excellent life advice, both in the Archives and out,” Tim agreed.
“Both of you shut up,” Past Martin muttered, but without a lot of heat behind it.
Martin laughed. “It really is good to—we have missed you, Melanie.”
“You guys must have had a really rough few years if we’ve known each other long enough for you to miss me,” Melanie said, but he could hear the smile in her voice anyway. “For what it’s worth, it’s good to meet you.”
There was a bit of an expectant silence before Jon made a flustered-sounding noise of surprise and tapped Martin’s arm. “She wants to shake.”
“He’s not an idiot,” Melanie snapped. “If he doesn’t—”
“No, I’m blind. Sorry, should have warned you.” Martin reached out and found Melanie’s outstretched hand.
“Oh.” The slight pull against Martin’s arm was the only clue he got before Melanie—at least he assumed it was Melanie—surged forward and hugged him instead. In his ear, she said, “You look like you need it.”
“Well, I’ll never say no.” Martin didn’t need physical contact quite the same way Jon did, but it did give him comfort to feel a friendly touch once in a while. And it was substantially more important now that he was blind to have a tactile connection to the world around him. He was just momentarily caught off-guard; he’d forgotten how much shorter than him Melanie was.
After a moment, Melanie pulled back. “Right. Do I get an explanation or is it ‘you’re from the future’ and we leave it at that?”
“We can explain. Right, Jon?” Martin added, raising an eyebrow in his fiancé’s direction.
“Right. Of course. Ha-have a seat.” Jon sounded like the entire situation had put him off balance. “We’ll see what we can do.”
In a lot of ways, it was easier than when they’d told their story to the crew the first time, close to a year ago now. First of all, the team was aware now of a lot of things they’d had to explain, and Melanie had lived through at least some of it, so there was less to catch up on. Second of all, Tim, Sasha, and Past Martin were able to help fill in a lot of details. Including some things even Jon and Martin hadn’t been aware of.
“And then the world ended,” Jon concluded, much as he had the previous year. “And Martin and I…well, eventually we decided to try and put it back.”
“By coming back in time? How’d you even know you could do that?” Melanie asked. “Is it in one of those statements up there?”
“No. N-no, I don’t—I don’t think so. I don’t know how the Keeper found out about that passage back. That wasn’t our original plan,” Jon said slowly. “I’m not completely sure we had a plan, come to think of it.”
“Head to London, kill Jonah Magnus, and hope for the best,” Martin said with a shrug. “Push the big red reset button. I don’t know. I think we were still figuring it out when we got there.”
He could hear the frown when Melanie spoke next. “Sorry, I’m new to all this, I’m sure you’ve been over it a lot, but—how did you know you could? Can’t imagine the big scary fear god that thinks it’s won just…giving you a map to all its vulnerable spots or whatever. How did you know there was even a way to fix it?”
“We didn’t,” Martin said simply. He felt Jon lean against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. “But we had to try.”
There was another long pause before Melanie spoke again, her voice almost too soft to be audible. “Who else survived? Besides you two?”
“What?” Jon asked with a frown.
Martin realized she had almost been too soft to be heard; he’d only caught it because he had to concentrate so hard. “You, Georgie, and Basira. And the Admiral. But in our timeline…Sasha’d been gone for years at that point, she died when Jane Prentiss attacked us. And our Tim died in the Unknowing. Once Daisy went over to the Hunt, we were the only ones left.”
“The whole rest of the world died?” Melanie demanded.
“No,” Jon said quickly. “No, not—not yet. They would have. Eventually. But no. After the Fears came through…the world divided largely into two categories. Watcher or Watched. You were either trapped in a fear’s domain or—or observing one.”
“So which one was I?”
“Neither. You and Georgie, you were both sort of…outside it. I don’t know that you were the only ones, either, but you were the only ones we knew about.” Jon paused, then added, “You kept going into domains and—rescuing people, actually. Or trying to. These tunnels are a blind spot, and that didn’t change even when the Institute became the literal center of the world. You and Georgie would run into a domain, get someone out, and bring them down here.”
“And inadvertently started a cult,” Martin added. He couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his mouth. “You hated it.”
“God, yeah, I would have. I swear, the worst part of Ghost Hunt UK is dealing with the fans. I just got into it to investigate the paranormal, not to be famous doing it.” Melanie sighed heavily. Martin felt bad for her. “So what happened to us? After you left. Did you erase the whole future timeline so none of it ever happened, or did the three of us have to either fix it ourselves or live in a post-apocalyptic hellscape for the rest of our natural lives?”
“I—I don’t know.” Jon sounded incredibly shaken.
Martin rubbed comfortingly at Jon’s shoulder. “We left before…we didn’t get to tell them we were going. The Keeper—the one who helped us get back in time—he promised he’d let them know what was going on, he said they’d be safe. As far as I know, we didn’t…that timeline still continued to its end. I just don’t know when its end was. And unfortunately, we never will. Personally, I think what would have happened is that when the Keeper told everyone that our plan went to hell and Jonah got away, your counterpart would have said ‘fuck this’, got a knife, and gone after him herself. She kept trying to kill him in our timeline and he saw her every time. I don’t doubt for a minute that she’d take advantage of the fact that he literally wouldn’t have been able to see her.”
“Why not?”
“Same reason he can’t see me. Because she was blind, she was immune to the Eye. And as hard as she was working on her anger, I think she knew how to turn it into a weapon. Also, she hated Jonah.” Martin sighed. “So yeah. We don’t know what happened to everybody in our timeline, but if anyone could fix it, it’d be our Melanie. Correcting the Apocalypse with a knife and sheer spite.”
“Damn right,” Melanie said. Someone turned a laugh into a hacking cough.
Jon sighed and leaned against Martin’s shoulder. Martin shifted slightly to settle him into a more comfortable position. After all these months, the movement was as natural as breathing. “I’m so sorry, Melanie. We—we’d hoped we could keep you out of all this.”
“Hey, don’t take away my right to choose. I knew what I was getting into.”
“Did he ask?” Jon asked. “Or did he just hire you?”
“Of course he asked.” Melanie sounded exasperated. She dropped her voice to a lower register and did a very poor, mocking imitation of Elias’ drawl. “‘I understand that your show is on a hiatus, and with Jon off traveling, I’m sure Martin and the others could use some assistance. Jon spoke quite highly of your research abilities. Would you be interested in a paid position here in the Archives?’ I could have told him to fuck off if I’d really wanted to.”
Martin replayed the words in his head a couple of times. “Yeah, sounds like he flattered and dangled bait in front of you, but didn’t actually force you. Very carrot and stick.”
“So why did you say yes?” Sasha asked, sounding curious. “Knowing what you were getting into, more or less?”
Melanie sighed heavily—Martin was incredibly familiar with that sound—but to his mild surprise, it was Past Martin who answered. “She told us that, Sasha. Or at least indirectly. She—you said you started Ghost Hunt UK to investigate. And when we were having lunch before you left for India…I saw how animated you got when you were talking about that student film you did. The supernatural, the paranormal, it’s genuinely something you’re interested in. You agreed to join the Institute because it lets you do all that and get paid for it, with the added bonus of not having to deal with people if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, basically. And, you know, if I can help save the world, that’s a nice little plus, too.”
Martin heard the rustling of fabric, but he honestly couldn’t have said if it was a hug or a light shove or what, and Tim’s next words made him none the wiser. “Thought you couldn’t read minds.”
“I can’t. I just know people.” Past Martin’s voice softened. “I promise, Tim. I’m not developing any new abilities.”
From the way he said that, Martin could picture quite vividly what Tim’s face had to look like. It was probably somewhere between the way he’d looked when he’d brought Sasha her coffee after she’d been attacked by Michael and the way he’d looked when telling Martin what had happened to his brother—a mixture of concern and fear and maybe a little bit of heartbreak. Tim really did worry about the others developing powers from the Eye, but there was probably an additional layer here because it was Past Martin.
Martin did know people. He had a fairly intuitive sense for the mood of a room and the way people interacted. In his timeline it had led him to play peacemaker, or try to, attempting to mediate between Jon and their Tim. In this…go-round, he supposed…it mostly meant he was picking up on a lot of things that weren’t being said, or at least weren’t being said aloud. He’d heard the fabric rustling, the lighthearted banter, the genuine laughter. He’d picked up on the gentleness in Past Jon’s voice that reminded him of the way Jon had spoken to him so often after Prentiss attacked, after he’d been accused of murder, and especially during those agonizing months he’d been working with Peter Lukas and they’d been so close and yet so far apart. He’d noted the affection in Tim’s voice, the way he’d tried so hard to control his anger and fear and actually talk to them. And of course he knew himself, and by extension his past self, knew what he sounded like when he was trying to navigate a simple conversation without wearing his heart on his sleeve, when he was trying to throttle back an emotion he desperately wanted to express but didn’t think would be welcome…or safe.
He knew love when he heard it, and dear God, if it had been that obvious to him for so long, he was already mentally betting with himself against how long it would take Melanie to call them out on it. Because he also knew hidden love, and he was willing to venture that they weren’t trying to hide their relationship because they thought it was inappropriate in the workplace. He was willing to bet all three of them thought it was unrequited on their part and that they had to keep it hidden from the others lest they be shot down.
He’d never really thought about polyamory himself, but in retrospect, yeah, maybe he had had a bit of a crush on their Tim. At least for a while. That would never have gone anywhere, though.
“Do we need to get out of here?” Melanie asked. “I mean, is Big Nose McCreepy going to notice we left the Archives essentially abandoned?”
“No, we’ve got a bit,” Sasha said. “He’s supposed to be meeting some of the Institute donors for a lunch of some kind. He’s not on site and he’s going to be occupied for a good while. I’m kind of hoping he gets a little tipsy, too. Anyway, he thinks he’s got us over a barrel right now. He thinks he trapped you into the Institute, so he’s feeling smug enough that he’s not going to pay attention to us for a while. His plan is to give us the rest of the week, at least, to let you ‘settle in’ before—”
“Sasha!” Jon said sharply. He sat up so suddenly it almost pulled Martin off-balance.
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Sasha inhaled abruptly. “I swear that wasn’t on purpose.”
“That’s—Christ, Sasha, you shouldn’t be able to do that from down here—”
“I didn’t—I Knew that before we came down. I’m pretty sure.” Sasha took another deep breath. “Right, okay. I don’t know who’s nominally in charge while Jon’s away, but—I think maybe I should take tomorrow off? Just to…recalibrate. Ground myself. Get some distance.”
“Take the rest of the week,” Tim suggested. “I don’t know who’s nominally in charge either, but—”
“I’ll stand in for your Jon,” Jon said. “Tim’s right. Take a good long weekend. Don’t think about the Institute, or the Archives, or the Fears. Just…I know it’s easier said than done, but try to distract yourself.”
“I think I have a way of doing that.” Sasha sounded thoughtful. Martin was pretty sure it was sincere.
“What do you do?” There was a hint of a challenge in Melanie’s voice, but also a good deal of curiosity. She was genuinely asking. “When it gets too much. What do you have that keeps you from—doing whatever it is you shouldn’t do?”
“Going out and pouncing random people to draw their traumas out of them,” Jon said dryly. “And I have Martin. He’s been my anchor for…much longer than I realized at the time. We’ll read or—or talk, or take a walk or something. We played cards a lot when we were in Scotland.”
“We were playing I Spy earlier,” Martin added.
Sasha snorted, but Past Martin seemed to actually understand. “Like a memory game type version?”
“Basically, yes. We pick someplace we both know—or knew—think about what was in it, and pick something for the other to try and guess. Five tries or less. And no mind-reading.”
“It’s still your turn,” Jon reminded him. “The storage unit.”
“Hmm.” Martin thought for a moment, then smiled as he remembered the one thing he’d fixated on while they were there. “I Spy, with my mental eye, something…brown.”
Jon made an exasperated noise. “I swear that must have been her favorite color. That could be anything.”
“Well, then, you’d best get guessing.”
“Fine.” Jon sighed heavily. “The…box full of dolls.”
“Nope. Guess again.”
“The book? The one we didn’t know what it was?”
“That was black.”
“It was—never mind.” Jon sighed again. “The notebook?”
Martin shook his head. “Come on, Jon, think. This is me we’re talking about. What would I have been looking at?”
“The…the frame on the painting with the dogs in it.”
“One guess left.”
“Give me one more hint.”
“It was the first thing that gave me hope in weeks.”
Jon was silent for a long while. Finally, he said, “I give up. I honestly, genuinely cannot think of anything that was brown that might fit the criteria you’ve given me. What do you spy?”
Martin’s smile widened. “Your eyes.”
There was a chorus of awws and exaggerated gagging sounds in equal measure from the other four, but from the way Jon took his face in both hands and kissed him, tenderly but thoroughly, Martin could tell that his choice had had the effect he wanted.
#leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#ollie writes fanfic#tma#the magnus archives#jonmartin#jonmartim
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If You Just Realize
Part Fourteen: Turning of the Tide
Summary: More changes come for Sebastian and his girls.
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader
Word Count: 1915
Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure.
Chapter Warnings: Child custody issues, feels.
Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo.
A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.
Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat.
Series Masterlist
Picture Credit
Sebastian deeply regretted sending Y/N to Los Angeles when the kind lady from the court came to get Milena to take her to Conor’s house. She wasn’t allowed to tell Sebastian much, but anything he needed to know, he figured he could learn from Alice and Tim anyway.
Letting Milena go was torturous. She was trying her best not to cry, even as tears were rolling down her chubby cheeks. Sebastian squeezed her tight and made promises in Romanian so that the court lady couldn’t be held responsible for reporting back what he had said, and, honestly, to have that privacy with his niece.
He went back into the house, immediately cursing the silence and wishing they would have seen this coming before they bought the place. If things didn’t work out with Y/N and Milena was taken away, what was the point of having all that space to himself?
Realizing Georgeta and Anthony had no idea what was going on, Sebastian called and explained as best he could. Georgeta was upset, and Anthony seemed to be too, but was holding it together for his wife. Sebastian promised to keep them updated, then disconnected the call.
But only another thirty minutes passed before he was packing a weekend bag and driving over to his parents’ house. He knocked on the door when he arrived, his chin already quivering. Like a little boy, when his mother answered the door, he broke down in tears. The weight of the world was once again upon his shoulders but Sebastian didn’t know if he could hold it together this time.
Y/N’s assistant met her in the lobby of the hotel that would be her home for the weekend. Once she was checked in, the two girls went up to the room and checked off a few boxes for business purposes before Y/N snapped her fingers.
“I’ve got to tell Kennedy I’m in town. I’ll call her here soon. Do I need to take care of anything with the apartment?”
The younger girl shook her head. “It’s all done and taken care of; I turned your key in a couple of weeks ago. Oh, I have one more envelope of mail for you to go through — there’s some important looking stuff on the top. I don’t know if it’s maybe the final of the pre-nup or anything.”
Y/N shook her head. “No, those went to Seb’s place in New York. I’ll look at that mail soon — what time am I supposed to be ready for the interview tomorrow?”
“The car will pick you up around three, hair and makeup will be there for you. Just have to bring what you want to wear. I’ll be here by two-thirty, if not before.”
“Great, thanks, so much.”
They hugged before the assistant was on her way and Y/N was left to her own devices for the day. She called Sebastian, who informed her that Milena had been picked up to go to Conor’s, and he was staying with his parents until Y/N returned.
“I should have stayed. I know it’s important for privacy purposes for me to be here, but I miss you already. Thank goodness your parents are close so you’re not alone.”
“Not the same as having you here,” Sebastian sighed. “I thought about coming out to Los Angeles, but I want to be close by in case something changes — even if that’s unlikely.”
Y/N shrugged. “I get it. I’ll be on the first flight out, day after tomorrow. I can take a cab home.”
“I’ll come get you. I want to come get you.”
She smiled, despite the circumstances. “Let me know what happens, okay? If anything. I can’t wait to come home to you.”
“Can’t wait to have you home, Bright Eyes. I love you.”
“I love you more,” she returned.
They talked for a while longer before disconnecting the call. Kennedy was Y/N’s next call, but that girl was filming on location, so meeting up wasn’t going to be an option. Shrugging and figuring she wouldn’t be too fun to hang out with at the moment anyway, Y/N crawled under the covers of the hotel bed and fell into a restless sleep.
After hearing that the interview had been pleasant — and that she could honestly and enthusiastically speak to how in love with Sebastian she was and how happy their marriage had been so far — Sebastian became even more anxious to have her home. Her assistant had finagled a red-eye flight home after the taping, which meant that Y/N was coming home at four in the morning, but Sebastian didn’t much care. His wife was home and he felt so much less alone.
She was still in her outfit from the taping when he met her on the arrivals sidewalk at LaGuardia. She raced into his arms, kissed him fiercely, then begged him to get her home.
“I only want us to be together, in our home, waiting for Milena to come back.”
Sebastian took her hand and her rolling carry-on, leading both of them back to the car. The ride was silent, and she pulled her own suitcase up to the house when they arrived, then immediately got in the shower. She had been so excited to see him at first, but had quickly distanced. Sebastian wasn’t sure what had happened, but he wasn’t about to wait to ask her about it.
He stripped down to nothing, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and went to join her in the shower. She smiled at his presence but then turned her face back toward the water.
Sebastian leaned against her, using his hand on the wall to balance himself. He pushed the hair away from her neck, kissing the bare skin.
“Talk to me,” he prompted.
She turned a little so her face was out of the water. “About what?”
He gave her a look. “Y/N. I know you — remember that we were friends a long time before we were married. Before I realized that I love you.”
“Are you sure you love me?”
Sebastian frowned and gripped her upper arms gently, turning her to face him. “Yes, I love you. I’m in love with you. What could make you unsure?”
“It’s just — I know you needed me back here to support you with everything going on, but I was suddenly worried that with Milena not around, you would realize you only needed me as a friend. That you’re not truly in love with me.”
He let out a breath. “Let’s finish this shower, and then we’ll talk, okay?”
She nodded and reached for her shampoo; Sebastian took it from her, lathering up her locks before rinsing it out for her. He reached for the conditioner next. She soaped up her own body and rinsed off, then excused herself while he finished the shower on his own.
When he came out from the bathroom, she was on her side of the bed in the same sweatshirt she had been wearing the day she told him she loved him for the first time. Her wet hair was swept to one side, and she was leaned against the headboard, waiting for him to come out. He pulled on clean boxers and sweats, then climbed onto the bed next to her.
“Your hands are cold,” he whispered, taking them to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Y/N, listen to me. My love for you is not conditional on Milena being in our lives or even us being married or anything else. I should have seen it a long time ago — maybe one of all of those times that my mother was telling me I should marry you.” He smiled when that actually drew a giggle from her lips. “I want you as my wife. I want you to be the mother figure Milena needs, and I want to have a million more kids with you.”
“A million?”
He laughed. “Okay, maybe two or three more. I want to grow old with you growing old with me. There’s nothing in this life that I will do or want to do that I don’t want you there for. I love you, Y/N, unconditionally.”
“I want all of that, too,” she whispered, wiping happy tears away. “I know that was the last discussion we never really got to have, but I was so afraid that my feelings were deeper than yours, and then this … it’s been an intense few months.”
Sebastian nodded. “That it has. No more pulling away from me, okay? And I promise not to pull away from you. We’re in this, together. Forever.”
“Forever,” Y/N repeated, pulling him towards her so she could plant a sweet kiss on his lips — although the interaction didn’t stop at a simple kiss.
The packet of mail her assistant had given her in Los Angeles was spread out on the kitchen island, and Y/N was singing along softly to music as she went through all of it. Some of it could be thrown out, some she still wanted to look at, so she decided it was better to eliminate what she didn’t need to open before starting the review process.
“What about a Boston Terrier?” Sebastian suggested, scrolling through the internet on his laptop across from her.
Y/N wrinkled her nose. “They’re so cute but my sister-in-law has one and the smells that come of out of that thing’s butt — I’m gonna have to vote no on that one.”
He chuckled and ceded to her denial. As she started opening envelopes, he called out a few other breeds.
“There’s not a whole lot of options for dogs that travel well and are good with toddlers and have puppies that will be ready by her birthday,” Sebastian said. “You may have to reconsider the retriever options. Oh, wait — miniature dachshund?”
“A little weenie dog?” Y/N giggled. She pictured Milena with the tiny little thing and nodded emphatically. “Yes, that's perfect!”
While Sebastian did the necessary research and contacted a breeder, Y/N opened a particularly thick envelope and withdrew a stack of papers. They were obviously some kind of court papers, but the cover letter told her a personal letter would follow and she should open that first.
Surely that wasn't something she would have thrown away. She searched frantically through the remaining envelopes, until she found one addressed to her in a neat, slanted handwriting. She looked to the return address and slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.
Irina Fruhauf.
This must be what it’s like to see a ghost, she thought to herself as she tore into the letter. She spent the next ten minutes reading through Irina’s letter twice, then started in on the court documents.
“Oh my …” She could hear Sebastian still in the other room on the phone with the breeder, but he was going to need to stop that conversation now. “Seb! Come in here!”
It took him a minute to get off the phone, and when he joined her in the kitchen, she handed him the letter first. His facial expression first was that of surprise, then further shock, and then the bittersweet feeling of reading the last communication of his beloved sister.
“Is this real?” he asked, voice hoarse with tears.
Y/N pointed to the court documents. “I think it is. Maybe you should call Philip.”
Sebastian nodded, retrieving his phone again. “Yeah, I think I should.”
AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326
IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @auriandthepussicats @tellmewhatyouwill @itsmycorneroftheinternet @andreagf956 @voltage-my2dlove
#marvelfluffbingo2020#sebastian stan#reader insert#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian x reader#queue and i remember budapest very differently
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“Let me help you.” for Clark and Bruce please?
i’m making these rounds of prompts au so i present: new neighbor au (note: i know next to nothing about the bat fam pretty pretty please do not kill me i’m begging)
Bruce Wayne already hated moving into the house, although the house itself wasn’t particularly bad. Jason and Dick were already fighting over who got the corner room (they didn’t know Cass had already started to set up a vanity there) and he had already heard at least one bad crack from a kitchen box.
But it was fine.
This did not explain why there was a strange man in his house, talking to Jason as if this was a regular occurrence.
“Who are you?” Bruce asks bluntly. “And what the hell are you doing in my house?”
“Dad!” Jason hisses. “This is our new neighbor, Clark Kent. Be nice.”
“It’s okay, I technically did come into the house without his knowledge,” newly-named Clark Kent admits. “I’m sorry, I just noticed that your son was struggling with a box labeled ‘dishes’ and figured it’d be better to help than to schedule a trip to the store for more plates.”
He was right. This was the problem.
(This guy was also ripped, had on a pair of thick, black frames that somehow looked good, and looked like he probably ripped logs in half when he was bored.)
“Thank you,” Bruce says curtly. “But I think we have it from here.”
He hears a yell from the yard, and it’s Dick and Tim fighting over a box that got dumped over.
Inside is the office computer, which is now not an office computer but scraps for one of the kids to use for some project that hopefully isn’t world domination.
(It’s not like Bruce can’t replace it, it’s just that...well he doesn’t want to go monitor shopping.)
“Let me help you,” new-neighbor says. He’s too damn earnest.
“I’m fine,” Bruce grits out. “Believe me, I can handle it.”
“You just moved in with more kids than I think I’ve seen, it’s been a long day. At least let me make you dinner.”
“Please?” Duke asks.
Clark gestures as if saying “I was right.”
“Your cooking kind of...sucks.”
“It’s not that bad.”
Jason pokes his head out now to yell for pizza.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Dinner is fine. Thank you. It’s not necessary. You will spoil my kids. But thank you.”
“Um...how many are exactly in your family?”
“Shoot for ten, that’s probably good,” Duke says.
To his credit, Clark only blinks once.
“Gotcha,” he says. “Dinner will be ready in two hours, give or take. I have a...store trip.”
Bruce slips him cash.
“Here. I know it’s a pain. You can back out of it or order pizza. If you order pizza, that’d probably work.”
“Pizza sounds good. I’ll get pizza. Any allergies?”
“Don’t put mushrooms on it!” Cass yells out the window. “They suck!”
“No they don’t!” Damian yells back. “You have no taste!”
Clark grins.
“I think I’m gonna like having you guys as my new neighbors.”
-
Clark thinks his new neighbors are fun. He can sometimes hear yelling and the boys are chasing each other around the kitchen. They practice what looks to be a game of tag but with consequences in the backyard.
Their father is very interesting. He leaves the house at five each morning for work, and Clark only knows that because he’s on a run every day with Diana, who is also as insane as he is.
“He looks nice,” she says, craning her neck.
“Way to be obvious,” he comments.
“Like you aren’t,” Diana says, laughing. “Catch up to me before I lap you again.”
Clark rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
“When was the last time you dated?”
“You know the last time I dated,” he responds. “I’m fine with not dating.”
“And yet I think you’d actually want to date a man who has what seems to be an infinite supply of children,” Diana responds.
“You make it sound creepy.”
“I can’t keep track of them. I keep seeing new ones.”
Clark tells her all about the kids. How he sometimes talks to Tim about school over the fence, or he’ll bring over dessert since Cass mentioned no one knows how to bake besides Alfred, but Alfred retired.
(Note: find out who Alfred is.)
Who he doesn’t talk much to is Bruce. Which is odd, considering he knows that he’s home quite a bit.
(Windows are clear, you see things through them. That’s his reasoning.)
Bruce is a very interesting man, because he’s always out with the kids throwing around a ball, or taking at least one of them around the neighborhood learning how to drive.
(Clark is scared for Cass to actually have a car she’s run over about seven different mailboxes.)
It’s when he gets his doorbell rung and standing there is Duke and Damian.
“You’re coming to family dinner,” Damian says. “We figure we owe you for always climbing your fence to get the baseballs and for sometimes probably keeping you up until two a.m. because we’re debating on food.”
“I’ve learned much about pineapple on pizza,” Clark says. “What time should I show up? Do you guys want dessert?”
“Dessert would be great, and dinner is at six-thirty,” Duke says, grinning. “Still remember those lemon bars you made. Best things I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll bring some over then,” Clark says, grinning.
-
Unofficially, the kids have noticed that their dad needs someone.
Well okay he doesn’t but occasionally he looks at their neighbor a second longer.
(Tim did the math.)
So Clark gets invited to dinner. Besides, they’re tired of simply talking over a fence. And Alfred suggested knowing at least one neighbor just in case one of them got in trouble and Bruce was away on business or the like.
Bruce does not know that Clark got invited to dinner.
Or that he can actually casually wear t-shirts.
(He wonders if he tailors his t-shirts.)
“What are you doing here?” He asks.
“Was I...not invited?” Clark asks.
“Oh, you definitely were,” Dick says. “We decided to be neighborly. We followed Alfred’s advice, Dad. You know how good that is.”
Bruce knows he cannot argue against Alfred.
“Welcome,” Bruce says. “I hope they didn’t badger you into bringing another dessert.”
(Oh let it be known Bruce is a liar, he was hoping for a dessert.)
“Duke requested lemon bars, so I had to fill a need,” Clark explains. “Thanks for letting me crash your dinner.”
“It isn’t a problem,” Bruce says. “Tim, go get another chair.”
“Why do I have to get the chair?”
“Damian, go get the chair.”
“I am hated in this family,” Damian declares, getting up from his seat. “But I’ll go get it.”
“I appreciate you!” Clark calls, navigating through the kitchen easily. “Mind if I set the dessert down?”
“Not at all, let me squeeze past you to get the water glasses.”
Okay so maybe Tim scoots his chair back and Bruce is used to just moving out of the way and avoiding getting the back of a chair shoved into his stomach but then he runs into Clark.
“Sorry!” he says.
Bruce is against his back.
“It’s fine,” he says, straightening himself up. “Tim, quit moving your chair at ill-opportune times.”
“Sorry,” Tim says, looking not-sorry-at-all.
Bruce sends him a dirty look.
Damian shows up with the chair, grinning.
“Sorry about the kitchen, tends to be a hard-to-get place with all of us. Anyways, water?”
Bruce hates his kids. They are not slick about anything. Cass cannot look him in the eye without smiling.
Clark is oblivious.
Dinner is...good. Better than good. Clark is surprisingly good with dry humor, and entertains the kids with stories of his greatest journalism feats.
(Bruce is impressed.)
He also handles the sheer volume of kids with a certain amount of grace. He listens carefully when Tim’s talking, even when Jason yells over him for someone to pass the dessert.
After dinner, Clark is invited to the backyard porch to have a drink while the kids play outdoors.
“You do a nice job,” Clark says. “It must get pretty crazy, all by yourself.”
“It can be,” Bruce admits. “Although the kids have grown up enough to know when they need to quit it. Mostly. Sometimes they still fight about things like ice cream.”
“The great flavor debate,” Clark nods. “Your stance on chocolate chip cookie dough.”
“Oh god, you’re that guy?”
“It’s the superior flavor!”
“That is the most boring answer you could’ve given.”
“And what is your answer?”
“Peppermint.”
Clark stares at him.
“What?”
“So you only have ice cream, like, once a year?”
“Sure. Don’t really like any other flavor.”
Clark shakes his head.
“Not mint?”
“Mint is still good, but not the best.”
“And your stance on the lemon bars?” Clark asks.
“I hid some in the fridge so I could get more,” Bruce admits. Clark laughs.
Bruce likes the sound of that. He likes how Clark looks under those stupid fairylights that Duke and Cass had snuck into the cart when he wasn’t looking. (They looked good, he had to admit.)
He looks away for a moment.
“It’s getting dark,” Clark says. “I have an early day tomorrow, I better head home.”
“Feel free to come any time,” Bruce says, nodding. “I mean that.”
“I get the feeling you never say things you don’t mean,” Clark answers.
Bruce smiles slightly.
“How’d it go?” Dick asks.
“Do not ask me.”
(That means it went well.)
-
Clark comes over to the house a lot more after that, as well as having the Wayne family over to his.
Lois makes fun of him when he has his phone background a picture of him and the family in the backyard for Tim’s birthday.
“You need to marry in,” she says. “Enough of this.”
“We’re just neighbors.”
Lois starts humming music from The Sound of Music and Clark gives her a look.
“You still need to meet your deadline by tonight!” Lois calls back. “I know you can do it!”
He sighs, turning back to his desk.
Tonight was his turn to host dinner, and it was all of them. He still had to leave work early (if he could) and get the makings for the rest of the meal.
Dear Clark,
Duke mentioned that you have an upcoming deadline at work. I am aware this could impede your timing for tonight’s dinner. I am going to the store with Cass. What do you need for dinner?
From,
Bruce Wayne.
Clark snorts. Bruce always texts like that, no matter who it is. He texts his own kids like that, no matter the circumstance.
Thank you, Bruce. I need one more pound of ground beef and some drinks (juice and stuff like that.) I will pay you back when you get back.
Dear Clark,
Payment is not necessary. All of my children have subjected you to debates about “pineapple” and “government conspiracy theories.” No problem.
From,
Bruce Wayne.
“Why I’m attracted to you, I have no idea,” Clark mutters, rolling away from his desk to get another coffee.
-
“You should get him flowers,” Cass says, looking at the bouquets lined up.
“Why?” Bruce asks.
“People like flowers,” she says. “And they’re used when you like someone.”
Bruce slowly swivels his head.
“Would you like to pretend that I never heard you?”
“Not really. You’re the one grocery shopping for our neighbor that’s your type and refusing payment.”
“How do you know what my type is?”
“When Tim and Jason get bored it gets bad.”
“Remind me to rescind talking privileges in-house.”
“Noted, but disregarded. We need gummy worms.”
“We do not need gummy worms.”
They still get thrown in the cart.
And now Bruce is nervous for a dinner that is literally just a dinner but maybe he should get flowers.
He gets sunflowers. Because Clark is a Kansas boy and roses are overrated anyways.
-
Clark gets flowers from Bruce,who by all means looks quite flustered.
“They’re wonderful,” he says, smiling. “Cass help you pick these out?”
“Nope, his idea,” Cassie says, digging into her pockets. “I bought gummy worms.”
Clark blinks as she steps off to go see her brothers.
Bruce winces.
“Sorry if that’s a bit...forward. I figured you’d like the sunflowers.”
“Not too forward at all,” Clark says. “In fact, I’d like an after-dinner conversation, if you don’t mind.”
Bruce blinks.
“Um. Yes.”
That is the first time he had ever said “um” in Clark’s presence, so this is a pretty momentous occasion.
Dinner is still nice. Bruce is a bit lost in thought and Clark has to refocus in on the conversation of Dick bitching about his new floor routine and the coach who’s making it impossible to practice.
The kids have enough sense to offer to either a.) go work on homework or b.) do the dishes.
Clark leads Bruce to the backyard, sitting on the patio furniture. They overlook his garden.
“I don’t know why I kept the fence,” Clark says. “Not like anyone’s to the right of me, and your family comes over often enough we don’t really need one. Wanna help me remove it?”
“Is that what your after-dinner conversation consisted of?” Bruce asks.
“No,” Clark says. “But I needed to say something else so I got courage to say what I want to say.” He takes a breath.
“Bruce, you are without a doubt the strangest man I have ever met. You send text messages like you’re sending business emails, yet you always participate with Jason’s internet dances and even, on occasion, help prank other siblings. You pretend like you never know anyone’s interests but you have gotten me my favorite jam at least once and make the kids’ favorite desserts for dinner.
“Furthermore, I think I am incredibly in love with you because you look nice in suits and you got me sunflowers because you know I like them. You are also one of the best people I’ve ever met. So I would like to take you on a date.”
“A real date?”
“As opposed to what, taking you to a meeting with my journalism team?” Clark asks.
Bruce smiles softly.
“I am joking.”
“Nerd.”
“Where is the date going to be?”
“I figured we actually go to that restaurant we always order takeout from instead of ordering enough for twenty people,” Clark teases.
“Sounds good to me,” Bruce says. “We’ll need to not tell the kids or they’ll want to spy on us.”
“Obviously. What day works for you?”
“Wednesday?”
“We both tell them it’s a late night at the offices, start without us,” Clark says, grinning.
“I can’t wait.”
-
The date goes quite well. The kids are very sad to have missed it, although they make sure everyone knows that they were the ones who set the two up in the first place.
“You have to say it in your wedding vows,” Dick says. “I was the one who planned it.”
“I was the one who pushed my chair!” Tim yells.
Cass rolls her eyes, shares a look with Duke.
Bruce shakes his head.
“You are not getting credit for Clark asking me to go on dates with him, Dick. You get credit for not unloading the dishwasher this morning, however.”
“Ugh.”
Damian snickers from his position on the couch, and gets a flowering look from his older sibling.
“Where’s your date tonight?” Duke asks his dad. “Going somewhere special?”
“Maybe,” Bruce answers. “It’s Clark’s turn to choose. I never know with him.”
(He knows. They’re going to a farmer’s market. Barbara Gordon also knows this and has told Jason, who finds it hilarious that his dad, who usually is very Stern and Serious will be pulled into conversation on different strains of heirloom tomatoes.)
#superbat#batman#superman#I KNOW NEXT TO NOTHING ABOUT BATFAM PLEASE DO NOT KILL ME#I KNOW I ROYALLY MOST LIKELY FUCKED UP EVERYONE'S CHARACTER#BUT IN MY DEFENSE THIS IS A 'HEY NEIGHBOR AU' AND SO I DO WHAT I WANT#anyways clark is a giatn nerd but bruce is WORSE#he formally texts#lois has a field day with this i just know she would#lovelyirony writes#jason todd#damian wayne#cassandra cain#dick grayson#duke thompson#i think last name is thompson#oh fuck it's not#it's thomas#duke thomas#duke thompson whoever the fuck that is hope ur oka
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burn the stage — part 1 // dabi
— A multi-chapter fic complete with your favorite indie and mainstream bops. Watch as you fall in love with the captivating guitarist of a band one drunken, perfect night. (BAND AU)
↱ PAIRING : Dabi x Female!Reader
↱ WORD COUNT : 5K
↱ WARNINGS : Mentions of alcohol, Suggestive themes, Strong language, Dabi being hot
↱ TAGS : @yusemis @lordexplosionsextra @astrrnmy @basicallyberry @j-brielmalfoy (I actually remembered my taglist this time wow)
↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : Thank you sosososo much to @kaikamikazi for allowing me to use her likeness for Kai’s character! Happy birthday to my favorite clown <3 everyone please wish her a happy birthday woot woot !!! And also huge huge thanks to @doughnuts-5ever and @jojosmilktea for helping me proofread/betaread this fic huhu it was a whole ass mess you guys are absolute legends tysm!!
↱ PLAYLIST
↱ SERIES MASTERLIST
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scene one; no song
"Thousands of years ago, our ancestors looked up at the night sky and saw a field of lights."
The aged man paced around the room, hands folded behind his back and hair graying by the roots. His side facing the blackboard on the wall, he continued;
"None of them really knew what they were," he stopped and looked at the vast sea of students perched atop of chairs in the big room. "But, they made a fascinating observation."
You sat listening to your professor, your chin perched on your open palm, and eyes focused on the notebook that sat idly on your connected desks.
"They noticed that the patterns were predictable and had clear effects." The man said with some form of self-acknowledged eureka, his left hand coming up to the height of his face, index finger pointing up at the heavily-lit ceiling. "The seasons, the tides, the harvests."
"Incredible, isn't it?" he resumed.
The man was about to continue on his tangent. But that was until a hand shot up in the air, followed by a voice.
"Uhm, professor?" the boy who raised his hand asked. "Aren't we supposed to be learning about chemistry?"
Your professor looked at him, who now appeared to be slightly frightened by the blank but disrupted gaze of his teacher.
“Pfft—”
You turned around to see your friend Kai, her head resting upon her folded arms. Was she seriously trying to sleep through the lesson again?
“The one opportunity we got to sleep,” she sighed. “You just had to ruin it, brainy.”
“Is that seriously what you call a sufficient insult?” you asked as you fully tilted your head towards her direction.
“Wasn’t saying it to insult him.” She said casually as she massaged her head with the hand closest to her, face still partially buried within her entangled arms. “Wasn’t saying it to compliment him either though.”
You scoffed.
“You’re unbelievable,” and at that, the darker-skinned girl turned to you with horror in her eyes.
“Oh no,” she said petrified.
“What?”
“You’re being a Karen again.”
You looked at her dumbfounded, sighing.
“I am not being a Karen,” you started. “I’m just saying—”
It was already too late, however, as Kai had both her hands covering her ears, blocking out your protests as well as all her other life issues.
You sighed once more and turned your attention back to your professor, your notebook still open on your desk.
“Your semester is practically over,” said your professor, standing idly in front of all the students, his left hand reaching up to habitually play with the fabric of his suit tie.
“So, let me have some me-time every once in a while," he continued.
‘You never let us have any me-time—’ is what you could feel the hoard of tired students internally screaming around you.
The aged man cleared his throat and set along to once again resume his lengthy ramble.
“Where was I?” he asked himself, his feet already departing from his standstill position in the middle of the room as he started walking about once more.
“Ah yes, so it seemed logical that these lights shaped everything else in our lives. But with the scientific method disproving all these theories, why do people still look for meaning in the stars?”
A hand shot up in the air once again, only to be shot back down by a quick hand gesture from the professor.
“Calm down now, I’m not done yet,” he said.
“Many prolific historical figures of our kind, such as the Iikes of William Shakespeare, have used the concept of astrology as a metaphorical expression, more than an actual study. Whether or not he truly believed in it, he still used the idea of astrology to create some of his most well-known epigrams to date,” he continued.
“With lines such as; ‘These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.’ from King Lear, ‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life.’ from Romeo and Juliet— I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with that one." He faced the students once more. "And my utmost favorite, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars—’”
“But in ourselves, that we are underlings.”
“—From Julius Caesar,” the professor smiled. “Well done, Miss L/N.”
Shock settled into your form, having realized that you had said that much louder than you had anticipated. Now with the burning stares of your classmates and uncontrolled laughter coming from a seatmate you used to call your best friend, you let out an exasperated sigh, head falling onto your desk and arms protecting you from the unfiltered judgment of the outside world.
You sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day before finally coming out of hiding, your chin once again finding shelter in your welcoming palm. You stared down at your open notebook, observing each line and angle. Stared at the drawings of orbits clashing together with the unwelcome intrusion of jotted scientific equations. A picture of the sun as each planet aligned themselves accordingly within their rotation, along with the lengthy compound formula of 4 Bromo, 3-4 Dichloro, Ethyl Hexanoate, written briskly, and uncared for.
But despite your apparent unhappiness and deep-rooted sorrow, you lifted your head forward and listened to the lesson in front of you.
"You seriously need to loosen up," said Kai, her head faced towards you. "When was the last time you danced to music alone in your bedroom?"
You thought about it for a second.
She sighed.
"You're so sad," she sighed once more and patted your head. "Poor baby."
She brought her hand down from the crown of your head, arm now resting on your shoulders as she brought you in closer.
"I'm gonna get you laid tonight," she said with conviction. You looked at her profile, absolutely bewildered.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"That's right," she nodded her head in content. "You're having sex tonight, just leave it to me."
"Shouldn't we work on having me dance to music alone in my bedroom first?" you countered.
"Even better," she grinned at you with the type of grin your primary teachers warned you about. You know, those creepy man smiles that you should run away from when faced with in a dark, ominous alley? "I'm taking you to a bar."
You could feel Mrs. Peterson screaming at you to run.
But nobody really listened to Mrs. Peterson. Sorry.
You sighed once more at your beaming friend and nodded your head slowly.
"Whatever," you finally said. Attention spanning back to the lecture in front of you as you turned your head. "After the class ends."
Kai smiled and leaned back into her chair, legs crossing and folded arms supporting her head from behind. She looked utterly satisfied.
"Alright Karen," she said.
"My name is not Karen," you grumbled.
"Then stop being such a Karen and let me have my fun," she closed her eyes and smiled. Totally abandoning the lecture playing out before her. Chemistry was all just a bunch of bullshit anyway.
scene two; black eyes
Ambient lighting and muffled voices were what greeted you and Kai as you both entered the bar. The light that shone down above you cast an evanescent sheen across the tiny, hidden bar.
You fumbled in with your red dress and heeled boots, bridging the edge of comfortable and painfully exposed. It’s been years since you've last worn a dress.
"Are you sure this isn't some kind of ancient speakeasy?" you asked Kai, uneasy.
"A speakeasy for bands and stuff sure," she shrugged. "Sadly, no dancing flapper girls, so sorry to disappoint."
You nodded and started heading towards the bar. No matter how badly you wanted to keep up the 'holier than thou' attitude, college was rough and unforgiving.
You ordered your drink and sat down on the stool, Kai following you shortly after as she sat beside you.
"I heard there's gonna be a good band playing tonight," she rings up the bartender and orders a drink.
She takes one look at your drooping face and sighed, her hand coming up to massage your shoulder.
"Loosen up," she takes a sip from her drink, "just for tonight, okay?"
You sighed and nodded timidly, copying her as you took a swig of your own drink.
"Looks like they're almost up," she taps your shoulder. "Mr. Compress is about to introduce them."
"Mister wha—" she shushes you before you could continue, leaving you no other choice but to sigh and watch.
The man with the strange name took center-stage with the microphone in his hand. The crowd seemed to know who he was, for they cheered and started gathering at the front of the stage.
"Let's go take a closer look too," Kai stood up and started dragging you with her. "Take your drink with you."
You looked at the already half-empty glass and shrugged, opting to chug it down instead. You finished your drink and walked with Kai towards the pit of people, still confused about what exactly was going on.
The strangely named man started to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he threw his free hand in the air by his side flamboyantly. "What an incredible pleasure to have you all here tonight. I am delighted to see some familiar faces, and some new ones too."
He grinned.
"I'm sure a lot of you are here to relieve some stress, no?" he asked, and the crowd cheered in affirmation. The man chuckled and continued;
"Well, I best not keep my wonderful patrons waiting then." The crowd cheered louder. "Without further delay, may I present to you, The Villain League!"
The crowd roared as four people took the stage, varied instruments at their disposal, but the one that caught your eye was the one that stood at the center, a guitarist, and a good looking one at that.
He was mostly dressed in dark clothing, aside from the white t-shirt he wore under his long coat. His features were hidden beneath the shadow cast by the dimmed lights.
And that was when the music started.
Electric guitar blinded your senses and opened your eyes. The exhilarating sound numbed the nerves that coursed through your entire body. Every hair on your body stood on its roots, awakened by the new thrill of music.
The lights turned on to the max, and the crowd went wild. Hands flew up in the air, the drinks in the opposite limb gambling on the edge of death.
It was music like you've never heard before.
"Holy shit," you said to yourself, the alcohol in your system taking its effect.
The man in the middle started singing, and you gasped as you took in the rest of his features. A good portion of his face and neck were covered in burn marks, as well as the top of his torso, which then spread across his arms. You awed.
How could someone who looked so damaged be so perfect?
Your eyes watched in wonder as your ears listened with delight. You made a mental note to thank Kai for dragging you into one of the best nights of your life.
So this is what college was supposed to be like.
You smiled, feeling the bricks fall off your shoulders. You stood straighter as your eyes opened wider, and shined even brighter.
This is so awesome.
You threw your hands in the air and let out a scream with the rest of the crowd. Kai catches sight of this and follows along with your mania, a laugh escaping her lips.
You were enjoying the aura of absolute chaos, but nothing had prepared you the moment your eyes caught his, staring right back at you. His mouth formed a devilish smile that made all the heat rush through your body in mere seconds.
"The girl in the red dress," he said into the microphone. Your eyes widened in unalloyed shock as they caught sight of the mischievous glint in his own. "Come out on stage with us."
What the fuck?
The crowd cheered louder and started to look around to find who he was referring to. They soon caught sight of you, who was still calculating the odds of you being the only girl in red.
The sea of people parted and formed a direct path from you to the stage, and you were honestly shell shocked.
Kai laughed and cheered you on.
"Congrats Karen, you've officially been promoted to Moses!" she cheered even louder.
"What, I—" you sputtered out.
Kai took her left hand and smacked your back, forcing you to stumble forward.
"Go!" she yelled at you through the howls of the crowd. "Get. Fucking. Laid!"
At that, the crowd burst into an explosion of screams. Whistles and hoots were all that was heard as your shaking legs made its way towards the stage.
You eventually made it to the edge, and the enigmatic guitarist leaned down to help you. Grasping your hand firmly in his, he hoisted you up easily.
"What's your name?" he leaned into your ear as he said it, his steady voice combating all other noises, and winning.
"Y/N," you said right back into his ear, a shiver coursing through your body as the current situation was doing its number on your sanity.
"Nice shoes Y/N," he said cooly, and your head started spinning.
"Uh, thank you—"
"Let's have a good time together," he smirked at you, who blushed madly.
You looked over at the rest of his bandmates. A young girl with a blonde fringe manning the second electric guitar, she looked at you and grinned widely at you. Eyes smiled shut and tongue jutting out, she threw you a peace sign in welcome.
You looked behind you and saw a strange-looking man playing both the bass and keyboard. You made eye contact with him and he smiled, only for him to completely change his expression and give you the stink-eye, much to your confusion and anxiety.
Finally, you looked over at the drummer who had dead-looking baby blue hair; he glanced at you and nodded briefly in acknowledgment.
"Don't mind the last two," the mysterious guitarist chuckled, "they're a lot more decent than they seem."
You nodded and smiled at him.
"So," he started. "Care to join in on the fun?"
You took a deep breath.
"Okay."
It was funny how you had started with not even being able to dance alone in your room. And now here you were, dancing along with countless strangers to music you never felt before.
scene three; ilysb
"You're new here, right?" the man said. He was sitting across from you with his head resting on his hand. His piercing blue eyes were focused only on you.
It had been about an hour since you stepped foot inside the hidden bar and thirty minutes since you were standing on stage with the band having the time of your life.
You looked over to the stage and saw your drunk friend Kai singing 'I Kissed a Girl,' microphone in her hands as she belted her heart out to the cheering crowd.
You couldn't help but chuckle, before turning your attention back to the enigmatic man staring intently at you.
"That's not slightly creepy at all," you answered jokingly.
The man chuckled slyly.
"I play here almost every night," he retorted coolly. "I would have definitely remembered you if you weren't new."
You nodded. Smooth.
"Fuck men!" you turned around to find Kai screaming into the microphone, one hand on the microphone stand and the other on the microphone itself. You sighed at the common occurrence.
"Fun friend you got," the man with burn marks said, attention also brought over to your crazed friend.
You sighed and nodded.
"I'm this close to dropping her," you said with no conviction.
He seemed to have caught on to your tone and answered accordingly.
"But you never will," he said.
"Yup," you nodded once more.
You looked over to him again, the alcohol in your body taking full effect.
"Wanna get out of here?" you asked him.
He looked at you with his eyebrow raised, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"And abandon your fun friend?" he asked you.
"Yes," you looked at him straight in the eyes as you said it.
"Sounds fun," he said, already standing up from his seat.
You followed suit, casting your drunk friend one last look before following the strange man out of the small speakeasy.
The cold night air greeted your body that clung tightly onto the limited warmth of your sweater jacket. You walked idly with the man standing beside you, the streets painted a dark vignette by the evening sky. The night suited him, you thought.
You let out a deep exhale which invaded the darkness with its cold color, the hues fighting until the dull white was engulfed by the overwhelming darkness of nightfall.
You looked up at the stars that were scattered across the sky, their white twinkle enrapturing the night sky with its light and color. Their light so bright that it couldn't be overthrown by the darkness of black. Instead, they were displayed up in the sky, allowed to show off their beauty with no restraints.
"Orion's in the sky," you observed quietly.
The man turned over to look at you.
"The constellation?" he asked as he too tilted his head up to watch the night sky.
"Yeah," you nodded, "I can't find the Pleiades, though."
Absentmindedly, your feet started moving in hopes to catch sight of the constellation. The dark-haired man watched you quizzically.
"Do you really think moving around will make them appear?" he asked you, who was now trudging farther and farther away. He sighed and started following you.
"There're so many buildings around," you groaned in your drunken state. "Can't a girl just see her stars when she wants to?"
He tilted his head in slight amusement and chuckled lowly.
"If it's the buildings you're worried about, I know where there's a field," he said. You turned around instantly.
"Show me this field, good sir."
"It's this way," he tilted his head over to the right, feet already walking towards its direction. You followed him, skipping.
You eventually were led towards an open field located on a small hill in the park. Wow, we had a park?
"Woah," you said in wonder. Your arms flying up from your sides as you spun around the grass, hair dancing in the breeze from your movements.
The man just watched you curiously, a small smile of endearment flickering on his lips.
You let out a big sigh of contempt and threw yourself down onto the grass floor, feeling at peace as the earthly bodies embraced you. The man who led you here followed suit, leaving little to no distance between your two figures as he laid down beside you.
"Can you see the Pleiades now?" he asked from beside you.
You looked up and examined the heavens, and your eye immediately catches the open star cluster that painted the sky. A gasp escapes your lips as you point up at the constellation you were looking for.
"There they are!" you squealed slightly, unable to control your excitement in your drunken state.
"Why'd you want to see them so badly?" he looked at you and asked.
"If you catch sight of Orion, then you're most likely gonna find the Pleiades too." You started, eyes focused eagerly on the stars. "There's this whole story behind them you know, about Orion and the Seven Sisters.
"It was said by Greek mythology that Orion fell in love with the sisters, and pined over them for 12 years. He would always chase after them in hopes that they would become his someday. But that was until one day Zeus decided to turn him and the sisters into stars. So Orion could chase them forever for the rest of eternity but never once be able to touch them."
"Wow," he said from beside you.
"Yeah," you said from beside him.
"You said they were the Seven Sisters," he said.
"Yeah?" you turned your head over to look at him, his eyes seemingly glowing under the star studded sky.
"But I can only see six at most," he stated.
"Oh," you turned your head back to the sky. "That's because those are the only ones visible to the naked eye. If you look through a telescope, a dozen more stars are visible."
"Is there a story behind that, too?" he asked.
"Yup," you stated and continued. "According to storytellers, Merope— one of the sisters, is hiding her face because she's the only one of the sisters who married a mortal and thus isn't respected for it.
"Her husband, Sisyphus isn't represented in the night sky either, cause he was condemned by Zeus to forever roll a stone up a hill in Hades only to watch it roll down again when he almost gets it to the top."
"That's..." his voice drifted off, "really sad."
You hummed in affirmation.
"You really like astronomy, huh?" he stated. "I'm assuming you're into astrology too?"
"Yeah," you answered.
"So, you're some type of zodiac girl," he said. "How quirky."
You scoffed.
"What type of music are you into?" he suddenly changed the subject, surprising you.
"I don't listen to music that much honestly," you said, surprising him, but not showing it on his face.
"Okay," he said. "Very quirky."
You laughed at yourself.
"Are you okay?" he asked you jokingly, maybe the alcohol was finally starting to get to him too. "Childhood trauma? Emotional baggage? Crazy ex-boyfriend?"
"Traumatizing college life," you said matter-of-factly. "And also just downright not having the time to listen to music."
"Spotify's expensive, too," you added.
"Ever heard of a radio?" he asked.
"Yes, but I can never concentrate on studying when music is on," you said.
"Ah," he said in a moment of realization. "It all makes perfect sense now. What's your major?"
"Organic chemistry," you said.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Makes sense."
"Kindly enlighten me then, cause I can't make sense of anything going on in my life," you said.
"You're a young adult suffering from the expectations and academically-focused constructs of our society," he said.
"Damn," you started. "You're right."
You sighed and placed your attention back at the azure before you.
"The moon's crying," you stated.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"The moon feels sad," you answered vaguely.
"The moon is sad," he stated beside you, eyes now focused onto the heavenly body in question. "The moon's just a broken planet that needs the sun to make it shine."
"Just because it needs help doesn't mean their shine is any less beautiful," you said back.
A long silence passed between the two of you, he looked at you, whose focus was still set onto the night sky. Whatever had you so enchanted by them, he might never know, but as he watched your features bloom with the ethereal sparkle of night, the twinkle in your eyes matching— no, outshining that of the stars you looked so fondly upon, he just sighed softly.
"Whatever you say, zodiac girl."
scene four; still with you
You were walking home with him in the cold night air, wind dancing softly around both of your figures as the gentle shrill tickled your senses.
It was colder than usual, you thought. But maybe that was just from the thrill of not spending your nights like you usually did, alone in your bedroom studying a topic you couldn't care less about. You sighed.
When was the last time you were able to lay down on your bed listening to music?
You were grateful for Kai, who you just realized had been abandoned at the bar she forced you into. You prayed for your survival the following day. You say that, but in the end, you were nonetheless thankful for giving you a college experience other than cramming every day.
You thought about what you would have been doing if you weren't forced into the bar, and laughed at the predictability.
You finally made it to your front door.
"Goodnight," the blue-eyed man said to you.
"Yeah," you said back. "Thanks for walking me home."
He nodded and watched as you made your way over to your front door.
You stopped.
You didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system, the cold night air, the thrilling atmosphere of spontaneity, or all of the above. But right now, you weren't in the mood to answer any multiple-choice questions.
You wanted to live for once. You wanted to feel anything else other than the dread of an upcoming deadline or relief after a grueling exam.
For once, you wanted— needed to be free of the expectations and academically-centered constructs of society. Constructs that you never wanted to question until now.
Even if it was only for tonight, you wanted to do the thing you wanted to do.
Even if it turns into a mistake, you would gladly take it for a few minutes of freedom.
You turned around and ran towards the man whose names you realized you didn't even know. But you were too far gone to be stopped.
Your hands found the side of his face and pulled your faces close, eyes meeting and lips almost touching. You breathed nervously.
"Can I kiss you?" you asked suddenly.
Shock and confusion flickered before his eyes but disappeared just as quickly.
"Sure—" he said, and your lips finally connected.
The kiss lasted for mere seconds until you pulled away, flustered and drunk and confused.
What were you doing?
You turned back around to enter your home and scream at yourself.
How could you just throw yourself at him like that?
But suddenly, his hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards him, connecting your lips once more. You could have sworn you melted.
The kiss lasted much longer, lips moving against one another and breaths being mixed together in the cold night outside your apartment building. Your hands in his hair and his arms around your shaking frame.
You pulled away to catch your breath, your air puffing up in the chilly twilight.
You pulled onto the sleeve of his jacket and led him towards your apartment, rushing past the other tenants and employees, you quickly got on the elevator where more kisses were exchanged in a drunken haze.
The elevator doors opened, and the two of you rushed out with you guiding him to your door.
You hurriedly put in your key, hands slightly shaking, the door opens and you hastily go inside.
He comes into your small apartment and closes the door with his foot, the door meeting the frame with a soft thud. He pushes you against the wall and your lips meet once again.
You didn't know how much time had passed with his lips moving against yours and hands roaming across your body, the contact sending both heat and shivers to course through your entire being.
His lips moved to your jaw, slowly making its journey down to your neck. Your breath hitched.
Some more time passed with low moans and heavy breathing coming from the both of you, now laying on your twin-sized bed half-naked.
You looked out the window beside your bed and saw the stars and moon staring back at you, illuminating your figures in its magical glow.
It was like time didn't exist when you were engulfed in his arms, his lips peppering your body in kisses and bite marks causing you to moan softly. You wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, with the moonlight shining softly on his features.
Your hands found themselves buried in his soft hair, time passing by faster as more clothes were being discarded around you.
"Y/N..." he said your name softly. His light voice passes by you, sending shivers down your spine.
Your breath hitched. Having no name to call out to, you whimpered instead. Your bodies intertwined together under the dim light of your apartment, and your heart taking timid steps towards him, tripping and falling deeper and deeper.
It was colder than usual, the low-pitched hum of the air conditioner you forgot to turn off comforting you from afar. Your body shivered more, not used to the sensations. It felt good, it felt really good, but there was something about it that pained you and made you want to fall apart.
The unfamiliarity of the pleasure and sweat clouded your mind and made you think back to the times when you were studying instead. This was far different than the dull absence your mind feels when reviewing all your lessons. But even then, thinking back to the simple emotions that came from your textbooks and notes, maybe these simple feelings were special to you too.
The night progressed further, and time was lost once and for all in the midst of your shared pleasure, the night turning darker as the sparkling sky glowed onto your sweaty figures.
You both reached your climax and breathed heavily, eyes meeting and foreheads touching in what seemed like a hazy afterglow, both your minds fogged and judgments clouded.
Your hand delicately went up to touch his cheek, his eyes shimmering in the glow of the night sky. He looked at you with the faintest smile. Underneath it was painted the most beautiful purple, his broken and damaged face sending your heart into a fit of shooting stars.
His body collapsed next to you on the small bed, arms encasing you tightly against his warm body.
You looked over to the window beside your bed. The sun was slowly rising, and the moon began to fade away into the brightening sky.
You felt your eyes slowly closing, finally giving in to the sleep you denied yourself all night.
Goodbye moon.
And just as the moon left your sky that February sunrise, so did the man who slept next to you that very next day.
#dabi x reader#bnha fanfiction#bnha oneshot#bnha fanfic#mha fanfic#mha fanfiction#mha oneshot#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#dabi fanfic#dabi fanfiction#dabi oneshot#happy birthday kaiiii#mwah mwah !!
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Gotham Queen: Hazama
So, a while ago, I saw this post where someone, either @assclass-dump or @bea2804 (I don’t remember which one was it, and I am not about to roam through the Hazama tag just to find that one post, so I’ll tag both just in case) point out how Hazama has a unique cape in Koro Q.
The moment I saw that cape, I instantly thought of one thing: Batman.
That lead to an idea of a Hero!Hazama AU where she was part of the bat-fam, and all because of that one cape.
Anyway, I’ve been trying to think of some Hazama content, and today, I had an idea for a drabble based on that one idea.
***
If she were to be completely honest, seeing the legendary bat-cave was....disappointing.
It was exactly as she'd imagined it: big cave full of fancy equipment, a giant computer, and oh, we shouldn't forget the shiny bat mobile.
Really, what do you expect from a billionaire vigilante?
"Answer the question."
Red orbs met the narrowed white slits of none other than the caped crusader himself. Hazama wondered if this was the notorious "bat glare" that was rumored to send shivers down one's spine. If that were the case, then it was another disappointment. 'He should see my mom when she's in one of her moods.'
Maybe it was just her. After all, nothing came close to the haunting eyes of her own mother as well as the soul-shattering screams that had become the title track of her miserable childhood. In fact, everything else paled in comparison to the devil woman that was her mother.
Hazama shrugged. "I tracked you down, that's it.”
The glare deepened, not that it had any effect on her. 'Maybe I should show him that picture of mom, tell him to take notes.'
"How exactly?" Batman questioned.
"I had help."
"Who?"
'An AI who roams the internet. Oh, and she's been living your big, bat-computer, so that's how I know who you and your sidekicks really are.'
Of course, she wasn't going to tell him that, mainly to get under his skin, but there was a reason as to why she was here in the first place.
"It doesn't matter right now." Hazama spoke, straightening in her seat and regarding the hero with a serious look. "I'm here to help with the tentacled monsters that're suddenly popping up."
The Dark Knight did not seem pleased by that answer. In fact, he was growing irritated with this mysterious girl who had casually strolled in that bat cave like it was no big deal.
"Kirara Hazama." Nightwing stood next to Batman, a tablet in hand. "Sixteen years old. Japanese nationale. Transfer student at Gotham Academy." He looked up to meet the girl's eyes. "Not to mention, you were one of the students involved in that whole assassination ordeal from last year."
Hazama clutched her elbow. A year had passed since Korosensei's passing, but it was still felt so recent, as though that fateful night was only hours ago. Her heart clenched when she remembered the the tiny, yellow orbs floating around them, the feeling of Korosensei literally slipping through her fingers was unforgettable.
And now, her past had followed her all the way to another country; Hazama didn’t know if this was life trying to be funny, but if it were truly the case, then it was an utter, humorless fail.
Really, all she wanted was to be as far away as possible from her controlling mother, and the opportunity comes in the form of a transfer exchange program. But then one day, she gets attacked by a creature bearing an eerie resemblance to her late teacher. It had everything: the tentacles, the yellow skin, and even that trademark grin of his.
“Koro...sensei?”
Except that grin had been laced with malice, and before the girl could comprehend what was happening, she found a tentacle wrapped around her neck and dangling her in the air to suffocate.
“Sensei!”
Were it not for her assassination training, Hazama would not have managed to escape. Those had arguably been the most horrifying seconds of her life, more horrifying than the Okinawa ordeal, where Hazama truly believed herself nearing death’s door.
“It’s not him.” She breathed, her hand seemingly glued to her neck. “Korosenei would never...”
And she was right, especially after more and more of these psuedo-senseis appeared on the streets of Gathom city, wrecking havoc in a manner akin to mindless zombies. Hazama didn’t know their origins, but she was deadset on unraveling this mystery. ‘And...’ She bit her bottom lip.
And maybe...by some strange, unforeseeable miracle, he would be be alive.
Batman scrutinized the girl, her melancholy was not lost on him. The sadness glinting in her eyes was uncomfortably familiar, one that told the story of loss. He may not of read it, but he felt like he already knew the tale.
But that wasn’t the issue at hand. He will eventually learn how this girl managed to track him down, not to mention, do a thorough background check.
But for now, his priorities lied in handling the “Octopus terror” that had plagued Gotham. If this Kirara Hazama person had a solution to this, he was willing to listen, though her words will be taken with a grain of salt. After all, Batman did not trust her, not when she had somehow figured out their secret identities.
“Kirara, was it?”
“Hazama.” She corrected. “I don’t like my first name all that much, so just call me, Hazama.”
The man was silent for a few moments before responding “Very well then, Hazama.” He crossed his arms. “What do you know about these creatures?”
“Not much.” She admitted. “But they’re undoubtedly linked to my teacher.”
“Your teacher?”
“The one we were tasked with killing.” She explained, ignoring the slight ache in her heart. “I know how his past; maybe that could help us get to the bottom of this.”
“Uh...us?” Nightwing spoke up. “Kid, we’re talking dangerous stuff here.”
Hazama raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“What do you mean “And”?” The acrobat questioned irritably.
“Just because you have information on these creatures doesn’t mean you can come with us.” Batman said, regarding her with his notorious bat-glare once more.
Hazama glared back at him. “You’re going to need me.” She said firmly.
“I won’t.”
“You will.” She argued. “For a whole year, my class and I were trained on how to kill that octopus.”
The bat glare intensified. “We don’t kill.”
“Neither do we.” She walked closer to bat until the distance between them was a few centimetres. “At least not when it comes to human life.”
She then pulled out her anti-sensei knife for the two men to see. “This is what I used when I was attacked by one of the monsters. To humans, it’s just a rubber knife.”
She bent it slightly to prove her point. “But it’s a deadly weapon to those monsters.”
The two heroes still didn’t look convinced.
“We spent a whole year studying that octopus, jolting down all his weaknesses.” She met Batman’s gaze with a determined look. “Like it or not, you’re going to need us.”
Batman narrowed his eyes. “Us?”
“Correct!”
The two men whipped their heads to the bat computer, their eyes widening at the sight of a purple-haired girl displayed on screen.
Ritsu smiled brightly at the two and waved. “Hello!”
The Dark Knight was the first to recover from his shock. He turned back to Hazama, bat-glare ever present.
“I take it this is who helped you, correct?”
The Goth gave him a smug smile. “Yup; and she’ll be a big help in this mission.”
“You bet!” There was a glitch on screen and suddenly, Ritsu was dressed in a female version of Batman’s costume.
Batman was absolutely not amused by this.
“Alright.” He turned back to Hazama. “But once this is over, you both will be answering some question. Is that clear?”
The girl shrugged. “Sounds fair.” She smirked. “But if you’re gonna interrogate me again, you’re gonna need to do better than glaring. Here, take notes.”
She then held up picture and gave it to Batman. Curious, Nightwing leaned closer, then jerked back a second later.
“Yikes!” He yelled in fright. “What is that?!”
“My mom.” The girl replied casually. “I use this to scare off cat-callers. It’s the one thing my mom’s good for.”
Batman regarded her with a neutral look. “Not the best relationship, I suppose?”
“Nope.” She stretched her arms and walked away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The Bat asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m starving.” She replied without even looking back. “Your butler said he’ll be making dinner, right? We can’t save Gotham on empty stomachs.”
Nightwing chuckled slightly. “First Tim, now this Hazama kid.” He turned to his former mentor with a playful smirk. “It’s pretty hilarious how a bunch of kids can easily deduce your secret identity, huh?”
Batman’s only response was a glare, followed by him holding up the photo to show Nightwing the devil herself.
***
I have no idea what I just wrote...
Question: Has anyone in this fandom ever thought of an AC/DC crossover where Hazama was apart of the bat-fam before?
Because I’m starting to like the idea, especially when I imagine her endlessly trolling the Dark Knight.
Hazama in the bat clan....so many possibilities...Maybe have her be the new batgirl...or take on a completely original mantle...
#assassination classroom#ansatsu kyoushitsu#hazama kirara#crossover#au#not gonna tag batman#too scared his fanboys will kill me#maybe accuse me of mischaracterizing him#nope#don't need all that#ritsu
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Almost Had You (But I Guess That Doesn’t Cut It)
Tags: @fandermom @my-analogical-romance @patchworkofstars @poisonedapples @hogwarts-my-love @opaque-puppet
Words: 1,706
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of doing drugs, the word “slut” used in lyrics, weed, Deceit and Remus mentioned but not by name
Ship: Prinxiety
Quick note: the formatting might be a little off on mobile, but it works fine on AO3!
---
I almost got drunk at school at 14
Where I almost made out with the homecoming queen.
It had been 12 years since Roman and Virgil met. It had been 10 since they became friends. It had been 8 since they started dancing around each other like pining, gay ballerinas.
Who almost went off to be Ms. Texas,
But lost to a slut with much bigger breastes.
Roman could remember the exact moment he started to fall in love. It was the end of their senior year. They had been messing around in Virgil’s “studio”, an extra walk-in closet in his dad’s apartment. Virgil was painting a stormy sky while Roman played around with an old guitar that hadn’t been touched in years (save for specks of paint and purple storm clouds painted on the wood). Roman had been messing around with different chords but he found himself enchanted by Virgil. His bangs were tied back into a bun and his arms were covered in white, lilac, and navy blue. His tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration as he tried to paint the moon just right.
That’s when it hit Roman. He could easily see them doing just the same in 20, 30, or 40 years. Maybe in a different town, maybe with different hairstyles or clothes, but still them. Still happy. Still soft and domestic.
Married. He could see them together and in love. It was terrifying, but as he closed his eyes, he played a love song.
I almost dropped out to move to LA
Where I was Almost famous for Almost a day.
It was college that separated them. Roman was going to a fancy music school and Virgil wasn’t going anywhere. It was one of the worst fights they’d ever had.
“Come on, Virge! It’ll be perfect!” Roman pleaded.
“Perfect for you, maybe,” Logan muttered.
“Oh shut up, nerdy wolverine,” Roman snapped.
“Even combined, how are we supposed to afford an apartment in L.A?” Virgil asked, not looking up from his sketchbook.
“We’ll figure it out!”
“You mean I’ll figure it out while you get a degree.”
“Just forget about rent,” Roman said. “We’d have so much fun! We can watch Tim Burton movies every week and cook together and go on adventures!”
“Roman, if I may add some input-“
“Logan,” Virgil said quietly, “can you give us a moment alone, please?”
“Don’t sign any contracts without a lawyer present,” Logan said, and with that, he left.
“Roman, I can’t just pack up and leave because you need a roommate,” Virgil said. “I’m not even sure why you’re asking me anyway. Obviously, there are better options.”
“Better options?”
“Yes! Like Logan-“ Roman scoffed. “Or Remy! Or even your brother!”
“I’ve lived with my brother for far too long, thank you very much,” Roman said. “But why do you think there’s better options? Why is it so hard to imagine me wanting to be closer to you?” Virgil chewed on his lip, visibly becoming more anxious. “Virgil, you’re my friend. I care about you.”
“You shouldn’t!” Virgil yelled but it echoed like a scream. Tears pricked at his eyes and as Roman took a step forward he took a step back. “I gotta go.” He grabbed his backpack and ran out of the door before Roman could go after him.
I almost held up a grocery store
Where I almost did five years and then seven more
Virgil was 22 and living with a friend of the brother of a friend. It sucked. He spent most of his nights' painting and wondering how much better his life would be if he had said “yes” to Roman’s offer. He picked up a drawn on canvas he had titled “Two Lovers” And began to paint as his thoughts spiraled.
Instead of loud music and loud... other sounds coming from his roommate’s bedroom, he’d at least only have to deal with Disney songs and rapping along to Hamilton. And yes, Virgil would have to admit, watching The Nightmare Before Christmas would be a lot more enjoyable than airing out the living room to get rid of the smell of weed.
He looked at the painting. The two lovers were still just a sketch. He took a pencil and adjusted one of the lovers to be male instead of female. “Could be gayer,” he mumbled to himself as he did so.
What would watching movies with Roman be like anyway? Virgil grabbed a clean brush and started painting in the couch the lovers sat on. He’d be annoying and talk through the whole film, of course. Probably eats popcorn way too loudly. Of course, he would have been the one insistent on making popcorn. Probably homemade because he would insist that it’s superior to the bagged stuff.
He’d probably fall asleep during the movie. It’d be far too much of ask of the arrogant asshole to actually appreciate art. He’d lean onto Virgil as he’d begin to doze off. He’d pretend to yawn and put his arm sound Virgil’s shoulders, holding him tight. Virgil chewed his lip as he painted. He worked on the lovers’ clothes and skin. Roman was always a deep sleeper; he’d be impossible to wake up. This would, of course, keep Virgil trapped on the couch. Virgil hated being trapped.
But would being stuck with Roman even be a bad thing? Virgil had slept on plenty of couches before, surely it wouldn’t be worse to share that space with someone warm holding you tight. Roman’s heartbeat would be calming and lull Virgil to sleep.
Cause I almost got popped for a fight with a thug
Cause he almost ran off with a bunch of the drugs
That I almost got hooked on cause you ran away.
Virgil looked at the two lovers holding each other tight and dressed in red and purple.
And I wish I would have had the nerve to ask you to stay.
Roman dropped out of that college after two years. It was a tough choice, but it was for the best. He’d looked at a picture from his high school graduation. He wasn’t the same anymore, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He just had new interests and passions.
And at 26 he was going back to a new college to pursue a writing degree. But he kept drifting back to that graduation photo. He hadn’t seen Virgil in 5 years, but he still had a soft spot for him. He still had so many things left to say.
Here I go thinking ‘bout all the things I could’ve done.
He pulled out his laptop.
I’m gonna need a forklift cause all the baggage weighs a ton.
Virgil pulled the rest of his boxes out of the moving truck. He finally got away from roommates and memories of the past. He was free.
He opened a box labeled “Paintings” and saw it staring back at him. The two lovers.
I know we had our problems.
I can’t remember one.
Roman kept typing. It was a stupid email to write to someone he hadn’t seen in years but getting all of these feelings out was pure ecstasy.
I almost forgot to say something else
And if I can’t fit it in I’ll keep it all to myself.
Virgil put the painting in a frame and hung it up in his unfurnished living room.
I almost wrote a song about you today.
But I tore it all up and then I threw it away.
Roman deleted the email.
And I Almost had you,
But I guess that doesn’t cut it.
Both of them sat, miles apart, staring at their screens and silently begging for contact. For nostalgia. For a second chance.
Virgil hated risk. He hated change. Yet, as he looked around at the unpacked boxes, he knew a tiny bit of change between him and Roman wouldn’t make that much of a difference. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
Almost had you.
Ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Virgil’s heart raced. He hated phone calls and Roman probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway and- oh this was such a bad idea. “R- Roman?” he asked, his mouth dry. “It’s Virgil. You still live in L.A right?”
“Virgil,” Roman repeated. His heart was beating just as fast. “It’s been a while. And yeah- yeah I still live here.” He took a deep breath. “How are you?”
“I, uh, just moved to California. Exciting, right? Uh, and I- I was wondering...” He took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands. He exhaled slowly. “Do you want to grab coffee?”
And I didn’t even know it.
“Coffee,” Roman said with a smile. “Coffee would be great. You can tell me where you’re near and I can meet you somewhere. You must be tired.”
“You have no idea,” Virgil said with a laugh. He glanced to the painting and let his anxieties melt away. He smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
“I- I’ve missed you too,” Roman said, barely above a whisper. He wondered if Virgil could hear his smile.
“Meet me at 4?”
“4,” Roman said. “See you there.”
You kept me guessin’
And now I’m destined
To spend my time missing you.
He looked the same way he did six years ago. He had his hair pulled back into a bun with colors on his arms, only now they were stray tattoos and not paint splatters. He looked more tired and spaced out. Surely from the stress of moving, but Roman was one hundred percent ready to take this man home and properly lull him to sleep.
Roman was different though. Dressed to impress as if meeting a stranger and not an ex-best friend. It was appropriate, almost. They had become strangers. Almost. Strangers didn’t spend years thinking of one another.
“Virgil,” Roman said with a smile and open arms.
“Princey,” Virgil said with a smile, falling into his open arms and holding him tight. Past fights and years of regrets faded away. They were together now, and Virgil knew he’d have his chance.
I almost wish you would have loved me
Wish you would have loved me too.
#prinxiety#sanders sides prinxiety#my prinxiety pancreas#prinxiety fic#ts prinxiety#sanders sides fic#song fic
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The world doesn't exist, only you do (part 4/7)
Everyone watches Michael lose it after Alex goes missing and realize, along the way, that Michael never stopped loving Alex.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Read from the beginning on AO3
QUICK NOTE: on the off chance someone follows this story on tumblr, make sure you've read part 3 (linked) because It wouldn't show up in the tag.. fingers crossed it doesn't happen again with this one!
............
4. Liz
"Michael? What are you doing here so early?"
"Could ask you the same."
She quickly looked him over; same clothes from yesterday, hair messier than ever and his eyes surrounded by bags that looked more like bruises. "Did you even go home last night?"
He didn't answer.
"Michael,you need to go home and rest. Please."
Michael shook his head and continued reading the files he'd managed to get from Alex's place. She didn't know what he was hoping to find in them, and she didn't question him about it. Honestly, even if nothing panned out from them, at least it gave him something to do.
"Michael."
"What, Liz?! You think I'm gonna be able to go home and rest when I know he's out there, being tortured? When I don't know if he's getting to eat, or sleep? He's been gone for four days, Liz. Four days and we've still got nothing."
Liz's eyes welled with tears as she watched him fall apart right in front of her. "Listen, I get how hard this is for you-"
He cut her off with a pained laugh. "You really, really don't, Liz."
She faltered but then regained her composure. "What I meant was, I get that you're worried about him. I am, too."
Michael stared at her incredulously. "Are you seriously comparing how I'm feeling right now to how you feel?"
"I love him, too, Michael!" Liz tried not to be hurt by the dismissive attitude and took a deep breath. "I know you two had history. I know he was your first love, and that you loved him for a long tim-"
"Stop." Though his tone was calm, deceptively so, Liz could see that he was anything but. Lab equipment started rattling and though she wasn't afraid of him, Liz was seriously starting to be afraid for him. Max had always told her that out of the three of them, Michael had always been the one with the most control over his powers. To know that Alex's disappearance had caused him to lose that control was eye opening.
"You wanna know how I feel right now, Liz?"
She nodded hesitantly, wondering what the right way to handle this Michael was.
"Remember how it felt when you thought Max might die for good?Remember how it felt to know that there were so many things you wanted to say but didn't, because you always thought that you had the time? Remember that moment when you did everything right and you were faced with the possibility of losing him anyway?" Her breath knocked out of her, she could only nod again. "I've been living in that moment for the past four days."
Tears spilled from her eyes as his voice cracked and she saw in that moment, how scared and helpless and in love he was.
"Mikey," she whispered, closing the distance between them and pulling him into her arms.
"I need him back," he whispered quietly, brokenly, as he hugged her back and rested his head on hers.
"We will get him back. You'll get him back."
"God, I hope so," he chocked out.
"You really love him, huh?"
He shrugged helplessly and smiled, crooked and sad. "You know, it feels like I haven't been able to take a full breath ever since I found out he was gone? I thought I was used to missing him, but apparently, I was wrong."
Tears spilled over her cheeks and she wiped them away hastily. "How could I have missed this? It feels so- it feels so significant."
His mouth twisted in a bitter smile and she wished she could take back what she'd said. "We didn't want anyone to know. He didn't want anyone to know."
"Why?"
"I think it was because he was ashamed of me."
Liz looked at him incredulously. "Alex? Ashamed?"
Michael shrugged. "He never wanted us to be seen together. Only time we ever got close was at the drive-in, and that ended in disaster."
"You know, for a genius, you can be really stupid, Mikey."
He raised an eyebrow. "If he was ashamed of you, why would he hang out with you in the first place? And- correct me if I'm wrong, but it was never just you. I have never seen him go on a date, in public, with any guy, even back in high school."
Michael said nothing, but his gaze dropped to his hands. Liz came to stand in front of him and took both his hands in hers. "This is just me guessing, but- he didn't have the best life at home. I never asked, and he never told me, but I always felt, deep down, that he was being abused, and- I think it was directly related to his sexuality. Knowing what I know now, I kinda wish I *had* asked, though; maybe he would have opened up to me more." Liz sniffled and tried to smile through her tears. "Sorry, went off track there. Anyways, what I want to say is, maybe you should consider that what made him pull away from you wasn't shame, but fear."
A tear made its way past his closed eyelids and she wiped it away gently. "Maybe when he gets back, you two can talk about it? Maybe work it out?"
"Maybe," he whispered softly, and there was an edge of hope to his words that she was proud of.
Michael cleared his throat and looked away. When he looked back at her, all traces of the earlier vulnerability were gone and he nodded toward the desk she'd been sitting at. "What are you working on?"
"I am trying to find a serum to help Max "unlock his memories". Nothing's worked so far and I'm stumped."
His face twisted and she held up a hand to stop him. "I know what you're gonna say, but Michael, Max almost killed himself trying to remember what happened before you three got here. And I just-" she shrugged helplessly. "-I worry about Alex every day. But there is literally nothing I can do to help find him. So I'm focusing on what I can do. Which is this-" she gestured at the space around her. "-and you can't blame me for it."
He slumped against the desk opposite her."I'm not. I just- it doesn't feel like you guys are taking it seriously, and it's driving me crazy."
Liz smirked. "I mean, we're not knocking people unconscious and holding them at gunpoint, so maybe we're not taking it seriously," she teased him.
He huffed. "Greg's not gonna let me forget that, is he?"
"Not a chance. He's been telling everyone about it. I think Max is working on a lecture."
Michael groaned, then sobered. "He's okay, right? I know I should've checked up on him more but-"
"He told me he understood, which I guess means he knows about you and Alex?" At his nod, she continued, though she did add a mental note to grill her boyfriend on how exactly he'd stumbled upon that piece of information. "He's also been practicing, trying to get his powers back to what they were before Rosa."
"Is that safe right now?"
"It's not, but he said it was just in case," she told him with a pointed look.
Michael shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Just in case he needed them to heal Alex?" If Liz hadn't been watching him closely, she might have missed the blush that colored his cheeks.
He tried to appear nonchalant, but she could tell he was touched. "Max said that?"
"He did. Now, get your ass off that chair and go home," she gathered the files, and when he tried to take a few, she slapped his hands away. "I'll look through them, Michael. I promise."
He swallowed thickly and looked to the side.
"You need to sleep, to eat something." She nudged his chin with a finger. Then she bodily dragged him away and pushed him out the door. "Can't have you looking like you're about to keel when you do your knight in shining armor routine," she called out.
The last thing she heard before he disappeared was his startled laugh.
She smiled to herself and returned to her chair. She pulled the first file on top of the pile and began working through it. She was halfway through when her phone buzzed with a text from Max.
*Will you come over tonight? I miss you*
She smiled and texted him back: *I miss you, too*
Her eyes drifted to the stack of files Michael had left and she decided seeing Max right now could wait.
*I'm not gonna make it home tonight.*
*Something wrong?*
*Ran into Michael at the lab. Sent him home and promised I'd look at some of the files he brought to find a clue for where Alex is. It might take me all day to go through them, though*
*He okay?*
*He will be, once we find Alex*
*Yeah*
*Thank you for taking care of him. I'm surprised he listened*
*It took bribery and him operating on what I assume is less than a couple of hours of sleep in the past four days, but I did it!!*
*And how are you today? Any urge to drink a serum that could kill you?*
She could picture him rolling his eyes.
*You're never letting that go, are you?*
*Not a chance, babe*
*Gotta go, lots of work to do*
*Love you*
*Love you too*
It took her six hours to go through the files and check and double check her findings. She knew she had to be absolutely sure before she told Michael, because the last thing she wanted was to give him was false hope.
But it was staring at her right in the face.
Liz had just found the first tangible lead on who had taken Alex.
She didn't waste any time. She grabbed her jacket, the files and her phone, locked up and headed for her car. She called Max on her way to Michael's place.
"Max! I think I know where they're keeping Alex."
"What?! Liz, are you absolutely sure?"
She deflated. "No. But, I think it's the closest we've been to finding him and it's worth checking out."
"That's great, Liz." He sighed in relief. "I hope it does pan out, because if it doesn't-" he trailed off, but she understood what he wanted to say. After her talk with him earlier today, she understood that the more time passed with Alex stil missing, the more pieces they lost of Michael.
"I get it," she told Max quietly. "But you need to get to Michael's, okay? I'm on my way there, but- Max, I'm gonna need you to be there to stop him if he decides to go after him alone."
"Already on my way, Liz."
"Okay. I'll see you there."
They hung up and Liz took a deep breath and prayed for Alex to be alright, not just because he was her friend and she couldn't bear to lose another person she loved, but also because if something happened to Alex, she wasn't sure Michael would ever be okay without him, not for a very long time.
....
I hope this one was okay? It was sort of my favorite, so far, so I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think!
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Drunk | Part 1 |
Description of Part 1: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | When you come back home to Manchester from University, you get invited to a house party filled with your old friends from high school. You hadn’t seen most of them for 4 years and the house brings back some old memories of the parties you once attended. Getting drunk with old friends ends up being better than you imagined.
Word Count: 11.8k
Warnings: Drug use
A/N: So I sort of just saw this picture of Matty and got the inspiration to write about it. I had no idea where I wanted it to go when I started but I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m sorry ive starved you of Matty content for so long but with the start of Notes I thought everyone deserved a treat. If you all enjoy please let me know if you want a part 2 and if so, let me know if you want to be tagged. Hope you all enjoy, love you x
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| MASTERLIST IN BIO |
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Going to house parties was always fun. Throughout high school they were fun and at Uni the flat parties were on a different level. What was even better, was getting to have house parties with your school friends again once you were all actually old enough to drink.
Since leaving high school, you had only stayed in close contact with about 3 friends out of a group of 25. These three were Alisha, Caroline and your best friend, Y/B/F. You didn’t mind only being in immediate contact with them. When you saw the rest of them now and again, you got on like a house on fire. It was like you never left.
And of course, you replied to them in the group chat when someone made you laugh. You often kept a close eye on all the banter that was going on and they rarely failed to make you laugh. They were a crazy bunch and even you couldn’t deny that.
It was your third and final Christmas coming home from University and your school friends that you left behind couldn’t wait to see you again. You don’t know how they had managed it but apparently they had persuaded your old friend Steve to have another one of his famous house parties.
Throughout high school, Steve’s mum and dad were chill about having a whole house of underage kids drinking, which was great for you and your friends. If you were anyone in your school year, you would be invited to his party. Thankfully you always had been, and you got to witness all of the shenanigans that your peers got up to.
You had seen some crazy shit. You remember at one party in particular that you couldn’t go anywhere without something ridiculous happening. One particular party when you were in Year 10, you found yourself not believing your 15-year-old eyes.
At first it was a normal night, you’d all been drinking and having a blast. The odd behaviour started when you were searching for your best friend. You remember walking into the back room to get more alcohol and seeing Tim, Steve’s older brother do coke. Which was not something you ever expected to see.
After that you went upstairs still in search for your friend, when you walked into Steve’s bedroom. In there was a group of about 10 people smoking weed.
That behaviour was quite common at these parties though. What was odd was that they were all intently watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas on TV.
It was weird considering it was mid-July but you brushed past it. You asked the group if they had seen your best friend and the people who paid attention shook their head.
George waved you over and as you stood next to him, he put his arm around your back and hugged you into his side. As he was sat on Steve’s bed, he was the perfect height to rest your arm on his shoulder. That was, of course, after you ran your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.
“You want some?” George offers you his joint and you shook your head.
The last time you smoked weed was with Y/B/F and you ended up having a bit too much. You didn’t want that happening again anytime soon especially in front of other people.
“Fairs” George says before taking a drag. George had been protective over you for a while now and always took care of you at these parties and in school.
He had been like that since Year 8. It originated when he found you practically being pushed down the stairs at school.
Throughout Years 7 and 8, you were bullied by the people in your class almost daily. But after George pushed the kid down the stairs instead of you, people started leaving you alone.
He didn’t let anyone give you shit from that day on and you would be eternally grateful that he did that.
George always looked out for you and when he needed help you looked out for him. For example, since then you had always supported him and his band Drive Like I Do and went to every gig that you could.
They were actually decent which was surprising to a lot of people and you could see them having a future if they all put their minds to it. You actually loved going to their gigs anyway, partly because all of your friends went and partly because you thought that Matty was fit as fuck.
You don’t know why. You knew that he was the class clown in high school from the Art class that you shared with him. But when you were in school, you never really thought of him that way. Not until he was up on stage and became the guy with 0 fucks to give.
That somehow made you think he was really attractive. You don’t know why that became a trait that was attractive to you, but it definitely was.
Matty had always been someone you were sort of envious of. He seemed very carefree and intelligent and you struggled with both of these things. You had to revise really hard for all of your exams in high school and you worried about almost every aspect of it.
Which made the parties a lot nicer for you because you just let all your worries go for the night.
After chatting with George for a bit, he again made sure you were okay which was adorable, and you went back on your search. You don’t know where your best friend had gone which you weren’t surprised by. She always had a habit of disappearing.
The next thing you did was when you made the biggest mistake of the evening. You noticed that Tim’s bedroom door was open, and you thought that people might be gathered inside.
However, you walked in to find Matty shagging a girl in your year called Kayleigh.
You were completely gobsmacked at the sight in front of you and you hastily turned around and closed the door behind you. You couldn’t believe they didn’t even shut, let alone lock, the fucking door.
No one needed to see that.
You were thankful that they didn’t see you as they were both very occupied and you removed yourself from the room very quickly.
You found yourself laughing at the situation and then you really wanted your best friend so you could tell her what you’d just seen. You were surprised that you didn’t feel hurt by seeing that, you just felt the tiniest bit jealous.
When you went back downstairs and moved your way into the garden, you thankfully found your best friend sat by the fire pit. There were a few other people around listening to Adam and Ross play their guitars softly.
You sat yourself down between your best friend and Adam and you found yourself unable to remove the grin off your face. It was just bizarre; you definitely hadn’t expected to see that.
You best friend could tell that something was up straight away.
“What’s so funny?” She asked and you found yourself unable to stop smiling.
You turned to Adam who was just strumming random chords, “I think you need to tell Matty to lock the door when he’s shagging someone”
Adam immediately stopped playing and looked at you with a shocked expression. Both he and your best friend called out, “What?” extremely loud.
Adam got Ross’ attention and he came closer to you as well. All three of them obviously wanting to hear the story. Not that there was much to tell.
You remember telling them and Adam and Ross started creasing with laughter.
They said that they were going to bully him for it, but you made them promise not to say that it was you who told them. Thankfully they did promise, and you thought nothing of it until later when Matty came down and they started laying into him.
He was so confused as to how they knew, and you found it extremely difficult to keep a straight face. After about 5 minutes everyone seemed to know and Matty didn’t even seem to care.
This was not the reaction that Kayleigh was looking for from him though. She looked fuming at him joking around about it.
She went home with her friends about 20 minutes later and Matty didn’t even say bye. Fucking savage.
As the night went on, you remember a group of around 10 of you moving inside to the now empty lounge and you all partook in a game of spin the bottle. It was fairly common at these parties and Steve had just made up a new rule that whatever number that the dice landed on was the time that you had to kiss for.
Everyone jumped on board with the new rule fairly quickly and no one complained about it until George had to kiss you for 3 seconds. He kissed you on your cheek which you thought was cute considering your dynamic.
He clarified to the group, “She’s literally like my sister” which you couldn’t help but smile at because you thought of him as your protective brother.
When it got around to your go, you span the bottle not really caring about who you got. You just hoped it wouldn’t be George.
You started chatting with your best friend after you span it to ease the nerves you felt.You averted your eyes from the bottle as you looked back outside to Caroline who was now asleep.
You both let out a laugh as you saw Alisha trying to get her up. However, your laugher died down when you saw that the bottle had stopped on Matty. You felt your stomach flip.
As someone passed you the dice, George said, “Careful Y/N, you don’t know where he’s been”
The group around you laughed and you let out a chuckle.
Ross then added “Well actually we do” and nudged Matty making the whole group laugh again.
Matty joked, “Don’t worry Y/N/N, I’ve had some mouthwash” which made you shake your head chuckling at him.
You rolled the dice and of course you rolled a 5 which you were unsure if it was a blessing or a curse. But you couldn’t even deny that you were excited about it. After all, you did fancy the boy.
But before you could even prepare yourself, the moment was upon you. Matty had already shuffled across the circle and was in front of you, ready to go.
After raising yourself on your knees to match his height, Matty quickly moved the hair that was in front of your face out of the way and grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into him. When your lips met, he wasted no time at all.
His kiss was soft but you could also sense that he knew exactly what he wanted out of the act. There was no hesitation in the gesture, it was just you that he wanted and you were feeling the exact same way.
Matty didn’t even hesitate to open your mouth further and let his tongue tease yours. Your hand came up and cupped one side of his face before your fingers laced themselves in the hair on the back of his neck.
He wasn’t even joking when he said he’d had the mouthwash; You could taste the peppermint on his tongue. You could hear everyone around you counting slowly up to five like they had been doing for everyone and when it got to 5 you were surprised to find that Matty didn’t stop.
You were obviously both too invested, Matty’s other hand coming up to hold your side to pull you closer to him more. You never quite imagined that you would fully pull him in front of everyone and he would keep it going as if it was only you two.
You really really weren’t complaining though. His fingers were pulling on your hair and everything that he was doing made you get a bit braver. You pulled a little harder on his hair which made him groan slightly and that made you smile into the kiss.
You were thankful only you heard it because of the commotion around you. Everyone was obviously shook that you were still kissing and they were screaming, “Ohhh” around you.
After a few more seconds, Matty finished the kiss leaving you wanting more. He definitely knew what he was doing and was trying to show off to everyone around him. Not that you were opposed to that, being on the receiving end of it.
When you turned back to your best friend, she had the biggest grin on her face which caused you to smile back at her. You didn’t want it to seem like it was a big deal though, so you just shrugged your shoulders and watched as the game went on.
You remember purposely diverting your eyes from Matty’s as you didn’t want to make it obvious that what just happened was the best moment of your life.
When you did catch his eye though, he would send you a little smirk which made your heart beat faster. You smiled and shook your head back at him and the night went on.
Since then he always made slightly more effort with you in school and you would chat to him more often than you used to. When you passed each other in the corridor he would ask, “You alright?” whereas in the past you would just share a smile.
That was the craziest party you had been to until you got to uni. Uni was great and you did love it, but it made your old parties look like child’s play. Sometimes you just found yourself wanting your friends from back in Manchester to enjoy the mischief with you.
Over the years, George had messaged you a few times to ask you how you were getting on in Leeds. However, the rest of the band you just spoke to when you saw them, and you didn’t see them often.
In fact, today was the first time you would be seeing all of your old group of friends all together since you left school. You don’t know how but Steve had managed to get most of your big group of friends back together for a Christmas house party.
The party started at 7 but you obviously didn’t get there until 9. At that point you went in and were greeted with a bunch of smiling faces of people that had apparently missed you.
Before you knew it, you’d found Steve and he picked you up and twirled you around in a big hug.
“Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much” He grins when he puts you down.
“Aw I’ve missed you too” You tell him and give him another hug. After the tight squeeze he put you at an arms width away from him.
“You look amazing” Steve told you, his eyes glancing down your body.
You looked down at yourself and smiled. You were wearing skinny black jeans and a transparent purple button up blouse. You could see your lacy black bra through it but it wasn’t a big deal.
You also had your black Doc Marten heels on too and you felt pretty. A lot prettier than the last time you had stepped into this house.
Since you last saw Steve you had grown a lot and lost quite a bit of weight. This was thanks to the gym at your college and your Uni.
You weren’t surprised by his reaction to you looking different. You hadn’t seen him in person since the end of summer 4 years ago, the year you all left high school.
You made Steve laugh because you’d brought your bag full of alcohol like old times. Everyone used to bring their own alcohol and keep it in his back room.
Apparently, you didn’t get the memo that Steve would be providing the alcohol this time around, but you put your bag in there anyway. You took out a bottle of cider and started roaming the house you once knew like the back of your hand.
You knew your best friend was here somewhere, but you saw her earlier on for pre drinks, so you were in no rush to find her just yet.
You had to go back home from hers because you needed the things you’d left at your house. You were going to stay at hers tonight and you forgot to bring your stuff. So, you had a change of clothes and a night shirt stuffed underneath your alcohol.
You went around the house and mingled with the people that you once knew. You asked what they had been up to and you told them. You forgot how much you actually missed these people.
You were in the middle of a conversation with a guy called Ben that you used to sit next to in history, when you heard your name being screamed through the room.
“Y/N” They yelled, and you whipped your head around.
You saw George walk in from the back door and you jumped up saying, “Hey”
You quite literally ran over to him and jumped in him arms. He was so tall and muscly now. He had completely changed.
“I’ve missed you sooooo much!” You grinned as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he held you to him.
You had really really missed him.
You hadn’t seen him in over a year and the last time you saw him it was only a brief encounter. You remember passing each other in the street and George stopping asking if it was you.
It was and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. Of course, you had seen his pictures on Facebook, but other than that you hadn’t seen him in person since you left school.
He was massive and ripped now.
Unfortunately, that day he was in a rush to go somewhere but you carried on your conversation over Facebook messenger. You did have a lovely catch up with him that lasted for hours of texting back and forth.
And nothing had changed when he messaged you earlier on today to ask if you were coming to Steve’s tonight.
“I’ve missed you too” He chuckled squeezing you tightly. After a few seconds he puts you down and you start chatting properly.
“So how are you doing?” He asks you.
“I’m great, home for two months now before I’ve gotta head back to Leeds” You inform him before taking another sip of your drink.
“That’s awesome, what are you doing again?” George asks with a curious look on his face.
“Psychology”
“Ah so you can read my mind” He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him.
“Oh yeah” You play along sarcastically.
“So, how’s it all going?” He asks you with a smile on his face.
“Yeah really well thank you, how are you doing?” You ask, returning the smile. You glance down at him and nod with a teasing, “You look great”
And he really did. He was wearing black skinny jeans too but with rips in them with a white top. His dirty blond hair was up in a bun and he looked so cute. Just like you remembered.
“Thanks,” He chuckles at you giving him a knowing look. He definitely appreciated the compliment, so he gave you your own with a cheeky smile, “Says you though, you look fantastic”
“Oh shush,” You laugh, returning his smile before it you asked him, “How’s the band? How are the boys?”
George chuckled and said, “Yeah they’re good thanks, Hann and Ross are outside and Matty is around somewhere” He told you and pointed outside to the other boys who were already around the fire pit.
“I have to say hey” You smiled, moving round George to get outside and he followed you back out.
You walked towards the boys that you hadn’t seen in such a long time and when they saw you, their faces brightened.
Ross got up first end gave you a bug hug saying, “Hey”
You exchanged pleasantries making sure he was good before you moved on to give Adam a hug. You found in school that you were one of the only people to actually call him by his first name.
There was another Adam in your year, but you hated him because he was one of the boys that bullied you. Therefore, you always ignored the others existence and continued to call this wonderful Adam by his first name.
“Adammmm” You dragged out at you gave him a hug.
God you didn’t realise how much you missed them all.
“Heyyyy” He chuckles returning your hug.
When you let go of him you looked back towards the three of them and realised how tall they had all gotten. Literal giants, holy shit.
“Jesus Christ, you’re all fucking massive now” You tell them, and they all laugh.
You chatted for a bit about each other and brought up a few memories from high school and of course the band came up quickly.
“How the band doing then? I haven’t seen you post anything on the Facebook page in ages” You asked them.
They all looked confused for a minute until Ross asked, “I’m sure we posted yesterday, right?” And the other boys around him nodded.
You furrowed your eyebrows and got your phone out of your pocket. You went on Facebook and typed ‘Drive Like I Do’ in at the top and brought the page up.
You shook your head and said, “No you haven’t posed since last December” You showed George your phone and when he looked at it, he started laughing.
You were confused for a second until he explained “No Y/N/N, we’re not called that anymore”
You were beyond confused by what he said and how you didn’t know about the change. George then continued to say “Yeah we’re called The 1975 now”
“What? Why did you change it?” You ask.
Adam chuckled, “Since Matty got it tattooed on his arm after one conversation about it”
You shook your head with disappointment. You weren’t even surprised by Matty’s antics, by the end of college he already had loads of tattoos from the pictures you’d seen.
“Have you released anything yet?” You asked.
“Nah not yet, were working on recording a few EP’s soon though because we have had interest from a label” George explained.
“Oh my god, that’s amazing” You grinned.
You were so happy for them.
“I told you you’d get there” You said wanting the credit for the years of encouragement.
You carry on to joke, “I’ll be your manager; I can get you loads of gigs in Leeds if you’re up for going that far”
Whilst they pretend to take you up on it, George says, “Might take you up on the gigs in Leeds though”
After a really nice chat with them all, you excuse yourself to go and get another drink and hopefully find your best friend. You’d been at the party for at least an hour and a half now and you probably should have found her by this point.
You climbed the stairs and checked the rooms that everyone used to be in. When you got into Steve’s room, you found a few people in there who you had to say hi to.
You sat with them for probably another 20 minutes and you found that your old friends Dan and Courtney were together. You never saw that coming, at one point they despised each other.
They gave you another drink as you were quickly finishing your own and you headed into another room to hopefully find her. You knocked on Tim’s, Steve’s brother, door this time and every time since you had walked in on Matty that day.
Thankfully when you did open the door, no one but Tim was there, so you said a quick hello to him. He asked how you were, and you told him you were great.
Tim was slightly older than Steve and he was lovely. He always looked out for you all before he left school and continued to make his appearance at Steve’s parties once he’d left.
You then moved on to check the bathroom as you remembered that people used to gather in there and drink the night away. Everyone used Steve’s downstairs toilet for their business and this one just became another room to party in.
As you walked in, you heard laughter that you would recognise anywhere.
Matty’s laugh echoed through the bathroom and you were certain you could hear your best friends giggle too. When you walk around the door, for a second you thought no one was there.
That was until you heard their laughter again. You looked to the side and then see that the shower curtain was pulled across the bath and of course they were both stupidly sat in the empty bath.
You pulled the white curtain back and were met with your best friend and Matty sat opposite ends of the large empty bath. You noticed that your friend had a bottle of cider, like you now had, in her hand and Matty was cradling a bottle of Smirnoff that had a quarter missing from it.
The whole room was littered with glass bottles and it looked like the party had just been in this room let alone the whole house. And you also noted that Matty was shirtless and wearing sunglasses for some reason.
“What you doing in here guys?” You asked, slightly amused at the situation.
“Hey Y/N” Your friend chirped.
Matty didn't bother with the pleasantries, he just answered your question after swallowing a mouthful of vodka, “We were just reminiscing at how people used to just come in here and talk shit getting whilst getting drunk”
“Do you remember?” Your friend asked you and you nodded.
On a few occasions in the past, people had indeed spent the entire party in the bathroom. It was random and you never understood so just left the people to it.
“Yeah, I never really got why everyone did that” You told them as you were never one to actually do it.
“It’s actually quite fun” Your friend told you and Matty immediately agreed.
You smiled at him and asked, “So how are you Matty, not seen you in a while”
A while being just over 4 years.
“I’m grand thank you Y/N, how are you?” He asked pleasantly, putting the sunglasses on top of his head.
You watched as he looked up at you with bright drunk eyes.
You smiled at his dopiness and answered, “I’m great thanks”
“That’s good” Matty said and he went back to his conversation with your best friend.
You started talking to them about nothing in particular and half way through you get a bit bored of standing at a different level than them. So, you decided to squat down at the side of the bath. It was quite comfy in your heels, so you didn’t mind.
“Y/N, why don’t you just get in the middle?” You best friend said, and you just waved it off saying you were alright.
Matty then started, “Y/N/N just get in the fucking middle and be a part of the conversation properly”
You looked at him with wide questioning eyes in response to being told what to do, and he sent them back at you. After a second of looking and neither of you backing down, you did climb into the empty bath with them.
As you sat down in the middle of them, your back ended up being towards Matty and you faced your best friend. You chuckled silently at the situation.
You didn’t imagine yourself at the age of 21 being sat in a bath with your best friend and the boy you used to fancy like mad.
“I can’t see her now” Matty sighs putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you back towards him with a little force. This caused you to fall back and your head hit his abdomen.
“Well this is comfy now” You dryly said, rolling your eyes.
Matty just chuckled looking down at you.
“Sit up” He instructed, and you did as you were told.
The next thing you knew his arm were around your waist and he dragged you back towards him until your back was flat against his chest. As he did this you were trying to suppress a smile.
You did the common ‘what the fuck is going on’ face to your friend and she was failing to hide her amusement.
“There we go” Matty said in a satisfied tone, before making you lean back against him.
You put your head to the left of his and you could just about see his jawline out of the corner of your right eye.
“You surely can’t be comfortable with the taps in your back?” You question, turning slightly to look up at him.
“It’s in my neck actually but it’s fine” Matty corrects you, before taking another swig from the bottle of vodka.
You shook your head and focused your attention back on your best friend in front of you. She had a cheeky smile on her face, and you could tell that she wanted to say something slightly risky.
You sent her a questioning look and she just came out and said what she was thinking. She grinned, “You would have freaked out 6 years ago if we were doing this then”
You send her an unamused glance and took a long drink of your cider. Her grin just got wider at your silence when you kept drinking.
You only stopped when Matty wondered, “What you on about?”
You started to shake your head at her, but she blurted it out anyway, “Y/N used to fancy you in school”
Your jaw dropped with her confession and you actually wanted to tell her where to go. You would never do that to her, you actually couldn’t believe she had just told him.
Bitch.
Not that you still had your crush on him, that died out a very long time ago. Yes he was still good looking now but you didn’t think about him all the time like you did in high school.
“Really?” Matty asked and you couldn’t tell whether his amusement was from the shock of the confession or just general amusement at the situation.
“Really.” Your friend confirmed before pulling out her phone.
You took another long sip of your drink and found that it was very nearly empty. How you wish you had more alcohol.
You sighed when Matty nudged you saying, “That’s fun to know Y/N”
You felt him start running lines up and down your left arm with the tips of his fingers. You didn’t hate the sensation, but you were hyperaware of it and you didn’t appreciate the teasing.
It was usually you doing that, not the other way around.
“Is it?” You questioned, really not amused at your friend.
You looked around the bathroom for anything that stood out, so you didn’t have to look at her. It had really annoyed you.
“Yeah, I think it is” Matty admits before taking another swig of vodka.
The smell of it hung in the air and you really didn’t know how he was stomaching it. Yet you found yourself wanting some to escape your situation.
It was silent for a second or two, not that you minded. You could hear the music from downstairs travelling up through the house and you actually loved the song that was playing.
“So, was this before or after spin the bottle?” You heard Matty ask.
You turn your head back around to look at him and you did so with a confused expression.
“How the hell do you even remember that?” You asked him.
He was completely fucked that night, in both senses of the world. You never thought he remembered.
“Probably the same way you do” He shot back looking down at you.
Being this close to him you could literally see every little detail of his face you once hoped to. 15 year old you really would be having a heart attack right about now.
You could tell he had shaved earlier on today as there was no stubble in sight. You could see all the little freckles that dotted around his face and you could see the brightness in his stunning brown eyes.
You looked at him for a moment and he just stared back at you as if waiting for something.
“So?” Matty pries.
You raised your eyebrows at him, silently asking, ‘what?’
“Was it before or after?” He asked again and you sighed and turned back around to your friend.
She was on her phone still, so you just took another sip of your drink before saying, “I don’t know, probably after”
You were trying to be as nonchalant as possible. You didn’t need to give this guy an ego boost as it was quite clearly big enough.
You felt like Matty was about to say something else to you until you best friend burst out laughing. You both looked at her confused until she turned her phone around, showing you both an old video of Matty and George messing around on the school field.
It was actually quite funny and both you and Matty started laughing too.
“I remember that so well” Matty told the both of you, before wanting a little confirmation, “It was the last day of school, right?”
You nodded, “Yeah because it’s on the park and we all brought alcohol and drank there until like 3am”
“Oh shit, yeah” Matty smiled, remembering the day well. He grins when he continues with, “And I got stuck inside that kids slide for about 20 minutes until Hann found me” which made you start chuckling.
“Shit yeah and it took us all like an hour to get you out” Your best friend said, and you burst out laughing at the memory.
It was so funny, you still remembered it well. It took you all so long because you were all laughing too much, therefore having no strength to get him out.
You went to have another sip of your drink but realised it was all gone. You balanced it on the side of the bath with ease and looked around the room for something else to drink.
All you saw was empty bottles until your eyes settled on the bottle of Smirnoff that was in Matty’s hand. You thought about it for a brief second, wondering if you would actually be able to stomach the vodka by itself.
You just thought you’d just give it a try. After all, this wasn’t your first time drinking spirits straight anymore.
You grabbed ahold of the bottom of the bottle and pulled it towards you. Matty let go of the bottle and watched as you brought it to your lips.
You took a mouthful of it and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make you want to gag. You forced yourself to swallow it down and it burnt as it did.
You didn’t have spirits straight often. You did it once in your Uni flat with some friends and you were surprisingly okay it just took a while to get used to.
Matty was quite surprised that you didn’t have any reaction to drinking the vodka straight. Even George couldn’t do it straight without having some sort of reaction to it like coughing the first or second time.
And he was shocked that you took another swig after a few seconds as if it was just another cider.
You offered it back to Matty and he took it back from you to have another drink of it himself. You noticed that he had started trailing his fingers up and down the side of your arm again, which you eventually found oddly soothing.
At first you were on edge about it because you hadn’t seen him in so long but after a while you didn’t even notice he was doing it anymore. You had become too comfortable.
You’d probably been sat in the bath with them for about 2 hours when your friend finished her collection of ciders that she’d hid in a box on the floor. At the same time, you and Matty had almost polished off the bottle of vodka and you were now really using him as a pillow.
You were lent back against him as you had been all this time, almost as if he was your boyfriend or something. Matty had also started playing with a few strands of your hair that he kept twirling around his fingers.
You had no idea why, but you were now too drunk to question it.
“I’ll go and get us some more drinks” Your best friend announced which you and Matty both nodded at.
“Grab them outta my bag downstairs, there should be like five, six more ciders in there” You tell her, and she nodded before leaving the room.
After the door slams shut you and Matty don’t say anything to each other for a good few seconds. You end up sighing and then moving awkwardly over to where your best friend was moments before.
Once you lean back against the side of the bath you smile back at Matty. He, however, looked at you grumpily and said, “I’m cold now”
“Put your top back on then” You laugh, pointing towards it hanging off the sink near him.
“No, it’s soaking wet” Matty tells you and lifting it up as proof. It was actually dripping with alcohol like he told you it was when you questioned why he was shirtless.
“Maybe don’t spill drinks down yourself then… You wouldn’t have this problem” You fire back at him.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have moved, then I’d still be warm” Matty counter argues, as he pulls the shower curtain back across, hiding the two of you once more.
“I’m not your hot water bottle” You say, rubbing your tired eyes.
Matty mirrors you and started rubbing his eyes as he murmurs, “You felt like one”
You chuckle a little and roll your eyes. Matty looks at you blankly with a hint of sadness to his features.
“Fine, when she comes back, I’ll move back” You tell him and then a smile brightens his features.
“In the mean time…” Matty trailed off before pulling a box of cigs out of his pocket.
You notice him pull out a spliff and a lighter and you smile at him. Nothing has really changed.
Matty lit it up and took a long drag of it. He lent back against the wall and blew smoke out of his mouth as he let out a big sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes backup you smiled at him and he offered it to you.
You had smoked weed more than a few times at Uni with your friends so you didn’t mind it anymore. You reached over and took it from him with a gracious smile.
You take a drag of it and breathe in the toxins. As you inhaled it, you could see Matty watching you curiously and you frowned at him a little.
As you stopped inhaling and took it from your lips, you blew out the smoke. You couldn’t help but ask, “Why the fuck do you keep looking at me like that?”
Matty grinned as he took the joint back from you, “You keep surprising me”
“How am I surprising you by getting high?” You asked before getting the bottle of vodka from him.
You took a swig of it and saw that you were now really nearing the end of the bottle. Jesus, you had no clue how you were still awake after having this much vodka straight.
“You never struck me as the type” Matty told you before taking another drag.
You shook your head at him in disbelief and he laughed at you. He continues to explain, “You always seemed too innocent. Good at school, relatively good at the parties, never got in too much trouble”
“I can’t believe you just called me innocent” You scoffed at him before taking another drink.
He ran a hand through his messy hair and asked, “What? You were”
“Well I’m not anymore” You correct him before taking the spliff back out of his hand and taking another drag.
“Oooo Y/N/N,” Matty said in an amused tone. “What’ve you been up to whilst you were away?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know” You smirked at him before drinking some more vodka.
“I would” Matty sits forwards and reaches for the bottle. He took it out of your hand with ease and you watched as he gulped the clear liquid down.
You started telling him about the different stuff that you had tried out at Uni. It was nothing too extravagant but your stories with your Uni friends were good ones and you loved thinking back over your shenanigans.
Matty in return told you things that he and the other boys had been up to that was similar. Turns out you both got yourselves in sticky situations from time to time. You were passing the weed and the vodka between you as you told each other these stories.
You both found yourselves laughing at each other quite often. That was until you turned the conversation onto the actual band in general.
“So, why did you change the name? Especially to ‘1975’ or whatever it is?” You asked using air quotes.
“It’s ’The 1975’ actually and because I thought it was cool” Matty told you and you held your hands up at your mistake.
He smiled at your actions but then went on to tell you about the book that he’d found the date in.
“I just thought it was cool how he signed it ’The’ instead of just saying the year. It stuck with me I suppose” Matty explains before finishing off the joint.
You nodded as you drank some more. It did sound different and you were sure they would make it work.
You followed up with, “George was saying that a label or something was interested? How’s all that going?”
“Yeah, really good. They want us to record some stuff for them and the we can hopefully start putting EP’s out end of next year maybe beginning of 2012” Matty said sounding very positive and enthusiastic about it all.
“That good, I’m happy for you guys” You smiled. “I told you you’d get there in the end”
Matty frowns as he questioned, “Did you?”
You chuckled to yourself and corrected yourself, “Well I told George”
“Ah, of course you told George” Matty chuckles, before continuing to say something that makes your jaw drop, “I always thought you liked him”
“Are you joking?” You asked him, sitting up straight.
Matty shook his head at you and you watched as his curls swayed from side to side.
“God no, he was like my fucking brother. Fuck that. The thought makes me feel sick” You tell him honestly.
You loved George to death, but you never ever thought of him that way. And you don’t think you ever would.
And you were thankful that it seemed like Matty believed what you were telling him.
You had to ask, “What the fuck made you think that?”
Matty didn’t even have to think about it before saying, “I don’t know, you always came to our gigs and spoke to him afterwards”
“I spoke to you all afterwards” You defend yourself, running a hand through your hair in confusion.
“Well I thought you came to see George” Matty went on to say.
“I came to see you all, you fucking moron. I liked your music and I liked watching you on stage” You told him before getting the vodka back and downing the rest of it.
“Ooo…You liked watching me on stage Y/N/N?” Matty smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively at you.
“Fuck off, you know I didn’t mean it like that” You shake your head, before playfully throwing the empty bottle back at him.
He caught it with ease, laughing at your actions.
Matty pressed on, “But you did like watching me on stage, right?”
You didn’t even deny it as your head really wasn’t in the right place to by lying at the moment. You were far too intoxicated.
“Maybe a little bit” You chuckled and it seemed to impress the brown eyed boy.
“Knew it” Matty grins before sticking his tongue out playfully at you.
You stuck yours back out at him before remind him, “Only cause I just told you”
Matty laughed at you then, saying, “Whatever” which also made you giggle.
After a few seconds you both went silent before you let out a big sigh. You and Matty had nothing left to keep you occupied.
The drugs had been smoked and you’d drank the alcohol. And your best friend was certainly nowhere in sight to be bringing you anymore.
“I don’t think she’s coming back with more alcohol Matty” You pout at him honestly and you both sigh again.
“Yeah, not looking good, is it?” Matty asked and you shook your head.
“I’ll go grab us the drinks and bring a few up so we don’t have to go back down” You told him before stumbling to get up and drawing back the shower curtain.
You don’t know why Matty insisted on keeping it closed, but you found it easier not to question it.
“I’ll be back in a minute” You announce before leaving the bathroom, making your way down the stairs.
You darted between the groups of people and headed to the back room where you’d left your alcohol. Thankfully it was all still there, and you got out 4 bottles to bring back upstairs with you.
On the way everyone left you alone, which you were thankful for. You were actually having a nice night having a catch up with Matty.
You liked that he really hadn’t changed, and he was still down to earth despite you seeing his Mum and Dad on TV more often. As you were about to climb the stairs again, George spotted you and asked if you had seen Matty.
“Yeah, he’s up here with me” You smile, nodding up the stairs and George started following you.
You led him up and past the bedrooms, to the bathroom and you heard George say, “Oh shit yeah, I forgot people hung about in here”
“So did I until I found him in here” You chuckled, before kicking the door open gently.
But then immediately started laughing at what you found inside. George looked inside as well and you both couldn’t contain your laughter.
Inside you found Matty half in the bath and half lying on the ground next to it. He had somehow managed to contort his body, so his legs were still in the bath and head was lying on the ground next to it.
He now somehow had a bottle of beer in his hands that he was keeping upright and he had those stupid sunglasses on again. The shower curtain was drawn half way closed again and you honestly had no idea how he had managed to get himself into that position.
“What the fuck” You practically squeaked in your laughter and had to rest your back against the opposing wall. George was hanging onto the doorframe for support and you both couldn’t stop laughing.
The noise of your laughter tuned Matty back into the world and he looked at the both of you. “Hey guys” He said with a goofy smile on his face.
This made you laugh even more, and you were now sat on the ground laughing dangerously as no noise was now coming out of your mouth. The only noise coming from you was gasps of air as you were in desperate need for more oxygen.
It was too fucking funny to witness, and you honestly didn’t know how you and George were able to calm down.
When you eventually did and were able to stand up again, you got up and put the bottles from one of your hands under your other arm. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to take a picture of your hilarious view.
That moment couldn’t ever be lost, and you never ever wanted it to be.
“Send me that” George pleaded, and you promised him you would do.
You walked towards Matty and put the bottles you were awkwardly carrying in the sink so you could try and get him up. You looked back towards George and he was looking down at his best friend and sighed.
“You alright mate?” He asked and Matty nodded extending his arm to give him a thumbs up.
To George, however, it looked like a thumbs down which made him laugh again and subsequently you.
“Slap his arse” George whispered to you and you did as it was in the air practically right in front of you.
You did it hard to hopefully wake him up a bit and George laughed when Matty practically jumped out of his skin.
“Y/N, you kinky bitch” Matty said after your laughter died down. He makes you giggle when he follows up with, “I like it”
He looked as drunk as you felt.
You sighed to yourself when George said, “I’ll leave you to sort that out Y/N” and shut the door behind him.
You looked at Matty below you and said, “Come on, let’s get you back up”
After an ordeal of trying to get him back into the bath you finally did after 5 minutes. You filled up an empty beer bottle with water and made him drink it before you both drank anymore.
You at least wanted him to be awake and conscious whilst you talked to him and when you both eventually joined the rest of them downstairs. The whole ordeal had caused you to sober up slightly which you didn’t mind.
After about 10 minutes of nursing Matty to consciousness, you were back chatting like you were half an hour ago.
Turns out all he really needed was a normal cigarette to wake him back up again. You had just taken those stupid sunglasses off him and hung them on your blouse so he couldn’t put them back on.
Matty shut the curtain again once he had grabbed the drinks that you brought up for you both. He cracked the 4 of them open with his teeth and you shook your head at him.
You scorn, “You shouldn’t do that”
“Oh, sorry Mum” He joked and handed you 2 bottles.
You shook your head at his awful joke.
“Fuck off” You scoffed before taking a sip of cider, “If your Mum knew what you got up to at these parties, she wouldn’t have ever let you come”
“I was great, I don’t know what you’re on about” Matty told you with an offended look on his face.
“Oh yeah and you shagging Kayleigh Smith in Tim’s bedroom was something your Mum would’ve been proud of?” You ask, amusement clear on your features.
“Ah god, I remember that” Matty said with wide eyes but you could tell he was laughing at the memory.
“Everyone went crazy about it, didn’t they?” Matty asked and you nodded, taking a drink.
“They did” You confirmed and Matty laughed running a hand through his curls.
“Yeah because it wasn’t even me that told everyone about it. It was Hann” Matty went on. “I never even found out how he knew”
You tried your hardest to not smile or laugh at his statement, but you failed.
Matty saw that you were holding in laughter and asked, “What?”
You let out a little laugh and admit, “Yeah, that might be my fault”
Matty looked at you with a completely shocked expression. His jaw was practically on the ground for a few seconds before he asked, “What the fuck do you mean it was your fault?”
You giggle as you explain, “I sorta told Adam and Ross about it”
“Are you joking? You cheeky bitch” He said before playfully kicking you. The cheeky smile never leaving his face.
You let out a whine at his actions and kicked him back, laughing as you did so. “Ow, you twat” He said laughing to himself before you both broke out into a full foot fight.
You were both fully kicking out at each other and you were both squealing as your feet collided. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation you were in. Matty was also cackling at your antics and you had again forgot how cute his laugh was.
“You’re not gunna win Matty, I’m wearing heels” You say as you continue to kick out at each other.
Matty laughs again and just continues to kick you. You only stop when you were about to kick his dick but he caught your boot before it managed to do the damage.
“Hell no Y/N/N” He said before shoving your boot to the side.
You laughed before leaning back against the back of the bath again and putting your knees back up. It was odd how it was comfier it was to put your feet up with your heels on, rather than stretching them out like you had been doing.
You sat back chuckling and took another sip of your drink before you asked the curly haired boy, “Do you hate me now?”
“Why would I hate you?” Matty asked, before downing the rest of his drink and moving on to the next.
“For telling Adam and Ross about Kayleigh and you?” You asked with a small smile.
You still found the situation funny and thankfully the memory didn’t scar you for life.
“I don’t hate you” Matty promises sincerely before dropping his empty bottle over the side of the bath.
“But,” He added, leaning forwards towards you, “How’d you even find out?”
You closed your eyes and smiled at the embarrassment of what you were about to tell him.
“I may have accidentally walked in on you” You told him reluctantly, before drinking the rest of your first drink.
“Did you actually?” Matty asked completely shocked and you nodded.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t lie about that” You told him taking a sip of your new drink.
“I was looking for Y/B/F and you had left the door open and I accidentally walked in and obviously immediately left when I saw what was happening” You rambled, remembering how uncomfortable you felt when you walked in.
Matty let out a loud laugh and started clapping his hands. You started laughing as well especially when he said “I can’t believe the first thing you did was sell me out to Hann”
“Well what was I supposed to do? Just sit and rock in a corner because I saw you having a quick shag?” You chuckled. “I was mortified. What did you expect me to do?”
“Aw Y/N, you didn’t need to cry because of it. I know you fancied me but there was no need to get upset. I was snogging you two hours later” Matty told you.
You snorted at that comment because of how truthful it actually was.
You laugh, “Spoken like a true fuckboy”
“I’d have fucked you too if you asked nicely” Matty smirked.
“Gee thanks” You chuckle after drinking most of your drink.
“Were you jealous Y/N/N?” Matty asked you and something about the way he said it made the mood of the conversation slightly more serious.
Too bad your drunken haziness didn’t recognise it.
“Oh yeah, big time” You confirm, sarcasm thick in your voice.
“I’m being serious” He said but you could hear the humour in his voice.
You quickly started to see that you were going to get bullied if you told the truth, so you started sinking slowly down the empty bathtub.
“Matty, I was mortified that I’d walked in on you and made Adam promise not to say anything. There’s nothing more to it” You explain before putting your now empty bottle on the side of the bath.
“But you started liking me after that right? So you must have been jealous at some point” Matty pressed on and you just rolled your eyes at him.
“Fuck off Matty” You told him and then he started chuckling.
“What’s so funny now?” You asked, looking over your knees at him.
You face dropped when he commented, “You’re denying what was so obviously true. I can see it on your face”
You reached to your blouse and picked up his sunglasses. You put them on to hide yourself some more as you said, “Matthew fuck off. I was fifteen years old… Yeah, I did fancy you, big deal. Don’t worry, I don’t anymore”
Matty let out and laugh and said with confidence, “Please, you still fancy me now”
“Believe me, I don’t” You said just as confidently.
“Well, you think I’m good looking then” Matty continued and you sighed.
You sank further down the bath and hid behind your knees to avoid him. You didn’t like it when you got embarrassed.
You hated admitting your feelings to people. You liked to keep them guessing.
“Come on Y/N we can go in Tim’s room now, I’m sure he won’t mind” Matty teased and you felt stupid.
“Fuck off” You laugh.
Your back was now flat on the floor of the tub and your head was only being propped up by the back of the bath. You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.
You heard Matty move slightly and start chuckling to himself. You just hoped he would change the subject and you could both move on and the banter between you could resume. You didn’t like feeling embarrassed.
You felt Matty’s hand on your right knee and you looked up at him through the sunglasses. He had a smile on his face and it only got bigger as he parted your legs and started crawling up between them.
You held your breath as he did so, especially when you could feel him leaving lingering touches across your body. Was he trying to drive you insane? You just kept quiet and stayed deadly still, wondering what he was up to next.
Watching Matty as he slowly crawled up your body, make your heart beat faster. Before you knew it, his face was hovering over yours.
“Were you jealous of her Y/N/N?” He asked in a deep voice.
When you didn’t reply to him, you saw Matty’s eyes wonder around your features wondering what to do with himself next.
You desperately tried to keep your breathing under control but that often proved difficult when there was a good-looking guy between your legs.
“Did you wanna be under me like this instead of her Y/N?” He purred, his lips brushing your ear before he lent down and started kissing your neck.
As he did so, your fingers laced into his curly hair and you moved your head to the side, so he had more access to your neck.
Your eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss at the situation you found yourself in and your breath caught in your throat. You could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per hour and you couldn’t believe what he was doing. And how amazing it felt.
You were biting your lip to stop yourself from giving anything away, even though your actions were already giving Matty all the information he needed. He moved his kisses from your collar bone up to under your ear and his hands were roaming your body.
All you could focus on was his lips attacking your neck and you could hear was your ragged breath as his actions continued. The music from downstairs was being drowned out by the rapid beat of your heart that was now all you could focus on. Apart from Matty’s actions.
You pulled on strands of Matty’s hair that you had between your fingers as you felt him focus his attention on one spot in particular. You were surprised when you heard him moan against your skin.
Your breathing got heavier as his hands ran down the sides of your legs which were around him and continued to leave teasing touches over body. His fingers then began to roam underneath your blouse and at the waistband of your jeans.
It just confirmed to you that he did indeed know what he was doing, and how to drive you insane. You felt like your skin was on fire and there was no way it could be put out.
As his lips moved to the other side of your neck, you again pulled on his hair wanting more. This time you were greeted with a growl that drove you absolutely crazy.
The noise was one of the sexiest things you had ever heard, and you wanted to hear it again. You were about to tease him again until you felt he started teasing you back by grinding himself against you.
The whimper you realised was something Matty heard and it equally drove him just as insane as the action itself did to you. He wanted to hear it again.
It was no question if he found you attractive or not. He’d been trying his best not to look at your tits that were practically on show for him as that purple top did nothing to hide your gorgeous body.
He cursed the bar that covered you up. Matty wanted you and there was no denying it.
And the way you were pulling on his hair made him think that you wanted him just as much.
You were about to tease him more until he thrusted his body into yours. More friction for both of you there was driving the both of you insane.
“Fuck” You practically moaned involuntarily at his actions and the everything got a bit more heated.
The friction of the lower halves of your body just increased when Matty brought his head back up too so he could see you flustered below him. But the shades blocking your gorgeous Y/E/C eyes were in the way, so he reached up and took your sunglasses off, throwing them over his shoulder.
Matty thought you looked heavenly beneath him and he was definitely not letting you out of his sight for a while.
You heard the glasses clatter against the other end of the bath, but you were too focused on the boy hovering over you. Matty’s brown eyes looked darker than normal to you and his curly hair hung over his head and almost tickled your face.
You could see that his eyes were just as hungry as yours probably were and that this was the point you knew there was no turning back from. For a brief second you both just looked at each other until you pulled on the back of his neck and brought his lips down to yours.
The pace didn’t slow down when you kissed him, if anything it got faster. You wished you weren’t in a tiny bathtub that was uncomfortable.
You wished you were on the bed in the other room like he suggested earlier, and you hated yourself for not agreeing.
Matty tasted like alcohol and the cigarette that he smoked. You could taste your cider on his tongue, and he was addicting. Neither of you could get enough.
You pulled hard on his hair and he groaned like he had done all those years ago. You smirked into the kiss, loving that he was liking what was happening.
After a few minutes of Matty making you completely breathless from his kisses, the way he kept grinding into you, and you probably scaring his back with your fingernails, you changed your positions.
You wanted more room.
You needed more room.
“Get up” You practically moaned when he started attacking your neck again, definitely leaving more marks.
Matty got to his knees and you sat up with him. You made him sit where you had been previously sat and he sarcastically lent back against the tub as he watched you crawl over him.
You straddled his hips and you could feel his excitement though the both of your jeans. You pulled his lips back to yours and you both quickly became invested in each other again.
After more making out you found that at certain actions that you did Matty was involuntarily buck his hips up into yours. Especially when you increased the friction this time and ground yourself down against him. You were a tease and you wouldn’t even deny it.
Each time he did bucked up, it made you gasp for another breath that he just took away because his tongue was inside your mouth. You couldn’t believe you were dry humping Matty Healy in a bathtub at the age of 21.
What the fuck were the both of you?
Matty didn’t seem to be complaining though because he kept on doing it and you certainly weren’t going to. At this point you would only prefer the real thing.
But you could tell that your current situation wasn’t going to be changing because neither of you were going to shag in a bath. So enjoying the friction of your lower halves grinding together was as far as you could go here.
When you weren’t kissing, Matty’s lips were either on your neck or your chest.
You don’t even know when he’d unbuttoned your blouse, but you didn’t even mind when the curly haired brunette was attacking your chest with his lips. If anything, you were surprised he hadn’t taken your bra off yet.
“Fuck” You say a little breathlessly as he left a trail of kisses all over your chest.
After a few more seconds of letting him bruise your chest, you brought his lips back up to yours. Your stomach felt like it was in knots and your heart was beating extremely fast.
You couldn’t quite believe you what you were doing.
You’d came out this evening thinking it would just be a quiet, fun night like old times. You never in a million years thought that you would be in this situation.
After a few more minutes you both started making sloppy moves and just opted to stick kissing each other. You didn’t tease him anymore despite wanting to and Matty calmed down a bit.
You don’t really know why but you’d both started talking to each other again in between kisses.
You assumed it was to distract yourselves because you knew that you couldn’t carry on what you were doing. Someone was bound to walk in sooner or later and demand your presence elsewhere.
“You do this often Matty?” You asked him with humour evident in your voice.
His lips took yours again for a few more seconds until he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, “The kissing… Yeah”
He pecked you again ,“The dry humping… No”
The both of you started laughing at that before your lips collided again. Matty’s tongue went back into your mouth and you couldn’t help the little moan that fell from your lips.
“What about you? You seem to be a pro at it” Matty asked when you parted.
However, you bit your lip and raised your eyebrows at him.
“What? You are” Matty praised and you giggled before kissing him again.
When you pulled away, you felt dizzy and you just spoke without thinking. You moved your hair out of your face and said trying to get your breath back, “I usually just have sex if I’m honest, this is a first”
Matty whined and you were slightly confused as to ask why. Before you could ask, his lips attached to yours again.
You were now certain you’d never get enough of Matty’s kisses, or the feel of his soft hair between your fingers. You’d definitely never tire of the way he moaned against your lips when you gave it a little tug.
When Matty pulled away, you were breathless again and you looked down at the curly hair boy in front of you as he whined, also breathlessly, “You could have said that earlier Y/N”
You started giggling at that and looked down at him. Matty also started laughing and he tilted his head forward until it hit your chest again.
Matty Healy, the boy that you had a crush on for the last few years in high school, was laughing into your tits.
What was going on?
You sort of just looked down at the mess of curls that was in your chest. You started giggling at this, which probably didn’t help Matty’s laughter die out.
If anything, it just fuelled it.
“Fucking hell” You giggled, pulling on his hair so he would move away from them. He looked up at you and you just again just burst out laughing.
The alcohol was obviously getting to both of your heads again and you only stopped laughing when you heard the bathroom door open again.
You both shut up immediately and Matty started fumbling with the buttons on your blouse. It wasn’t really working for him and you had to help him button yourself back up again and you were both silently laughing again.
Before the curtain was drawn back, Matty’s fingers ran through your hair from the very up, as if to flatten it down. It must have been a state because you don’t think anyone had ever had to flatten your hair after making out with them.
You also helped him do that again just in time before your best friend drew back the curtain. You were still on Matty’s lap and your arms were again around his neck.
You knew you couldn’t move because she would have seen Matty’s boner and tease the fuck out of you for it. Matty probably wouldn’t be to impressed either, which is why his hands were firmly on your hips, keeping you in place.
“Hey” Both you and Matty smile looking up at her as innocently as you both could.
It was quite obvious what you had been up to as both of your lips were swollen, and marks probably littered your neck.
She looked down at the both of you with a massive grin on her face “What are you two up to?”
You had a great poker face and could lie your way through anything so you just said “Nothing” You could come up with a lie later if she actually pressed on.
But she looked plastered, so you didn’t think that you’d have to.
However, Matty said, “I decked it before, so I wanted a hug and she’s only just giving it to me”
“Yeah, he keeps making me laugh though” You try covering your laugh at his excuse.
You had never heard a worse excuse other than he wanted the hug.
“Well you know, Matty” You best friend said, and you nodded at her.
You murmured under your breath, “I really do”
Matty heard this and snorted really loudly to try and disguise his laugh. You couldn’t help but start laughing again. Luckily your best friend was headed back to the door and didn’t ask what you were laughing at.
Matty was laughing into your shoulder and you were just laughing in general at this point. Drunk messes, the both of you.
“Hey, are you two coming downstairs now? We’re all gunna play spin the bottle again like old times” Your best friend asked.
“Yeah, I’ll come down in a minute” You told her as you tried to stop laughing.
She says a little ‘yay’ and you chuckled. Matty lifted his head up from your shoulder, “Yeah I’ll come down as well in a few”
“You never know you two…” She said pointing between both of you. “It could happen againnnn” She cooed and you and Matty had to hold back your laughs.
You swallowed your laughter away and said, “It could” You looked at Matty and told him “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”
Matty also had a good poker face this time when he replied, “It really would”
You could see the humour in his eyes and he could definitely see it in yours. He definitely still wanted you, you could see it.
“I’ll see you guys down there” She bits farewell, before the door slammed shut again.
You turned back towards Matty then and shook your head at him in disappointment, “A hug, really?”
“I panicked alright” Matty admits half laughing.
You giggled and asked Matty with raised eyebrows, “You gunna be okay?”
“Yeah” He confirms, amusement clear in his voice.
You put your hands on his shoulder and pushed yourself up off of him. Amazingly, you climbed out of the bath steadily despite Matty slapping your arse as you did so.
Giggling, you turn back towards him once both of your feet were firmly back on the ground. You looked back to Matty’s eyes and bit your lip.
“You gunna sort yourself out before you come down?” You smirked as your eyes flickered down to the prominant bulge in his jeans.
Matty looked up at you and teasingly asked, “You could just sort it out for me?”
He raised his eyebrows at you both hopefully and teasingly, but you shook your head at him with a grin on your lips. You lent over the bath and brought your lips down to his again.
It was a sweet kiss, not hot like it was before. It was different and you just hoped that it would leave him wanting more.
You managed to trap his bottom lip between your teeth and you pulled at it as you pulled away. You smiled down, quite proud of yourself as you could tell from the look on his face that he definitely wanted more.
When his brown eyes opened, he gave you a knowing look and it caused your smirk to grow.
You turned around and winked at him before you made your way out, “Lock the door Matty, someone innocent could walk in”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Taglist: @the-girl-before @friends-dont-lie-asshole
Let me know if I should carry on or if you want to be tagged x
#matty healy#matty healy x reader#matty the 1975#matty healy fanfic#matty#the 1975#matty healy imagine#matty healy fluff#matty healy x you#the 1975 imagine#the 1975 blurb#the 1975 fluff#george daniel#Ross Macdonald#Adam Hann#1975#1975 matty#matty healy smut
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