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clockwayswrites · 3 months

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Rumors of a Prince

“You could always ask Jason to pay her a visit,” Dick said from where he was lounging, mostly upside down, on the couch in Bruce’s study.

Bruce frowned at him. “I am not going to have Jason kill Vickie Vale.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said kill!” Dick held his hands up or, rather, given his position, down. “I just meant puts some fear into her. Maybe kidnap her for a few days so that she can’t write any more libel.”

Bruce found himself smiling, slightly and against his better judgment. It faded away when he looked back at his laptop. “At least in this case, it wouldn’t do much good. The stories is already out there and, unfortunately, Vale’s take on it has captured the public’s attention.”

“Tim knows I bet… and Babs.”

“Undoubtedly by now.”

“And if those two know, Steph knows. If Steph knows, she’s ranted to Cass.”

“Yes.” This family was impossible to keep things secret in.

“Welp,” Dick said and swung himself to be sitting up normally— or as normally as Dick ever sat. “Then I guess we better tell the others. How do you want to divide this?”

Bruce was grateful that Dick was willing to be his partner in this. “You would be best to take Jason. I’ll speak with Damian. Either of us can catch Duke when he returns from his patrol.”

Dick nodded. “And Tom?”

“I think perhaps it would be best to have as much of the family in the manor as possible,” Bruce said after a moment. “If he destabilizes, I want him to know that we are around and that he is still safe.”

“Alright.” Dick slapped his knees once and stood. “I’ll drag Jason back then. You know he’ll come if it’s for Tom.”

“Make sure he reads the article before he comes over.”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be best. I’m going to bring some food too over with me. Good luck convincing Dami that he can’t go and stab Vickie Vale.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick chirped as he left for his task.

Bruce dropped his hand.

‘Gotham’s Pale Prince’ stared back at him from the screen.

“Seriously?!” Jason burst in through the kitchen door. “Have you read this swill?”

“Yes chum, of course I have,” Bruce said. He shot Dick, who trailing behind Jason’s fury, a look. Dick was supposed to get Jason to read the article before coming over.

Dick just shrugged helplessly and motioned in a way that conveyed Jason had read it and was still clearly quite upset.

“One of the biggest questions is,” Jason said, clearly reading now from the article with the air of Bristol accent he had put on, “perhaps, why the newest Wayne is not in school. Bruce has proven himself to be a champion of the educational system. This is despite the man himself being a college drop out’ like what the fuck?”

“To be fair, I am,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued. “His oldest ward’— Dick is fucking adopted now, bitch!”

“Boo!” Steph echoed and tossed popcorn at the tablet Jason was holding.

(Bruce was neither sure when Stephanie had arrived nor where she got the popcorn.)

“Never going to college,” Jason said with a jab of his free hand, “and the second oldest never completing high school.’ I was dead you narrow minded shew!”

“Well, I mean, all she knows is that you were supposedly kidnapped by terrorists and tortured for years,” Dick said. He had moved over to help himself to Stephanie’s popcorn and paused raising the next handful to his face. “Okay, no, that’s actually worse.”

“And you are clear on your line that I cannot stab this woman for the dishonor she implies about the family?” Damian asked, again, as he joined them in the kitchen.

“Unfortunately we have to handle this the proper way, with a press conference,” Bruce said. Stabbing was looking increasingly appealing though.

Jason dropped into one of the open chairs. “I’d call it a battle of the wits, but I don’t think Vale has any left with this trash she’s writing!”

“Alright,” Tim said as he entered the kitchen with almost as much fury as Jason, just more contained. Cass followed in his wake. “I am sure that B has already run through no killing, no stabbing, no maiming, no poisoning—”

“No poisoning Vickie Vale,” Bruce said, feeling so tired.

“Way to go, Timbit, now we can’t poison her,” Jason groused.

Tim sighed, “Fair, I shouldn’t have assumed. I really thought someone else would have brought it up already.”

“People went for more bloody options,” Dick explained.

“Also fair,” Tim said, pointing at him. “Anyways, since we can’t do all that, can I ruin her reputation?”

“Tim,” Bruce sighed.

“Now come on old man, let’s here Timtam out,” Jason said, holding out his arm. “You said yourself we had to handle the proper way and I’m sure that our little socialite here knows just how to ruin her through something like a press conference.”

“You I can stab,” Tim said with a shark sharp smile towards Jason.

Jason returned it with a smile like broken glass. “You can try.”

“Oh, if you keep calling me a socialite I will try and I will manage.”

“Boys, please.”

“Are people threatening blood and violence again?”

Every head in the room swiveled towards the door to the hall.

Tom almost recoiled at the sudden attention of all of the family, taking a half step back and looking a little wide eyed.

Cass walked forward and wrapped her arm around Tom’s. “Tim is. To Jason.”

It took a moment for Tom to tear his eyes away from the family to look at his sister. “Of course. What’s… it about this time?”

“Jason is reminding Tim that he’s a rich society brat and Tim hates to be reminded about that even though it’s true because Tim is also a little freak and the upper crust would be applaud if they knew even a fraction of it,” Steph said before she stuffed his mouth full of more popcorn.

Everyone in the room paused for a moment.

“No, yep, I think that’s pretty much spot on,” Dick said. He wasn’t even pretending not to laugh.

The laughter was infectious and almost everyone was either snickering or outright laughing. Bruce even quirked up a little smile. Tom still looked mostly confused but at least less nervous.

“Come sit by me, little shadow,” Dick said with a smile.

When Thomas settled next to Dick, who immediately wrapped an arm around him, the room settled again into that slightly somber mood.

“What is going on?” Tom asked, voice small. There were times when he still seemed unsure if he could be a presence in a room or consternation. It was something that they were still working on as a family.

Bruce sighed. “A reporter found out about you and wrote an article with mostly speculation. Unfortunately, because of who I am in the city and my existing tendency to adopt, it’s getting attention.”

Tom chewed on his lip and Bruce just hoped he wouldn’t worry it so much it bled. “Bad?”

“Not bad towards you, but unkind. She made a lot of guesses and fact reasons about why the public hasn’t seen you,” Bruce explained.

“Oh. Am I…?”

The dropping of words wasn’t the best sign. Dick pulled Tom into his lap.

“No. Most of the children didn’t attend the press conference announcing them and you don’t have to either. But I will need to make one simply to clear up some of rumors. I wont say anything that you don’t want me to say.”

“Bruce and I can plan it out,” Tim said, “and then run it by you if you want to look over it.”

“Can… will… if anyone wants to help…”

“Of course!” Dick said cheerfully. “We can make a lunch of it or something. It will be the best press conference yet.”

“Yeah. And you don’t even have to watch it,” Jason said. “We’ll plan something fun for that day. The old man can go and do the hard work and we’ll enjoy ourselves.”

“Thank you, Jason,” Bruce said dryly, pretending he wasn’t warmed still whenever Jason refereed to him as anything approaching father.

“It’s what you deserve,” Jason said and tossed his tablet, cleared of the article, on the table. “Come on, let’s plan what we’re going to do.”

“The zoo is always enjoyable,” Damian said.

“You always say zoo,” Cass pointed out as she perched next to Jason.

“What about the park?” Steph suggested. She joined the others at the table and passed around her popcorn.

“Nah, Ivy has a new variety of tulips. I’m worried some of them might turn man eating again,” Dick said.

“We could head out of Gotham I guess,” Jason pointed out and pulled up the map.

Bruce slipped quietly out of the room with Tim on his heels.

“You can stay with them and help them plan,” Bruce offered. Tim was always too grownup, had been since before he came to Bruce.

Tim just shook his head. “I’m never the best distraction. I’ll be more use to you. Besides, I have some plans to run by you that doesn’t need the blood thirsty contingency hearing about.”

“Of course you do,” Bruce said with both a sigh and a smile.

“Nothing physical,” Tim defended himself. “I can ruin her legally.”

“That I have no doubt of.”

No matter what, Bruce had absolutely no doubt that the family would be there for Tom. They were a family, after all.

---

AN: Vickie Vale won't know what hit her. Esp after what she wrote.

Don't know if this will become a full sequel or not, but it was fun to revisit this universe and see how they've progressed!

#dp x dc #shadow of a bat #rumors of a prince #batpham #phanTOM is Danny #and now Thomas Wayne

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konaharts · 4 months

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RadioStatic Week 2024

First Meeting

[I'm probably not going to do all the days due to work, but I wanted to draw at least this one!

I know they most likely met while Vox was building a video/tv empire in Hell, but I couldn't get this one scenario out of my head of Alastor finding Vox shortly after he arrives in Hell. Enjoy this mini-fic I wrote about it!]

The sinner was scrawny, a picture box laying on his shoulders, the glass having been broken in by the demons Alastor had just chased away. What looked like a face occasionally flashed on the screen.

The Radio Host's eyes scrunched up in disgust, his very personal feelings and opinions about televisions flooding into him. He should have passed on by.

Whoever this sinner was, he was possibly one of the most pathetic-looking sinners Alastor had ever laid his eyes upon.

Even so, a sinner down on his luck was another opportunity for a deal and another avenue to grow his power.

"My, my. You look like you've seen better days! Welcome to Hell, my good fellow!"

At the sound of the Radio Demon's voice, the newest arrival to Hell turned his head, the broken screen flashing, occasionally illuminating Alastor's face. A distorted, filtered voice with uneven volume emanates from the picture box, words occasionally repeating and stuttering due to the damage.

"H-H-Hell? W-W-Wał₮…I. I. I. I. Kn-Know th-th-₮Ⱨ₳₮ voł₵Ɇ."

Alastor paused.

"Oh?"

"A-A-Al₳₴₮ØⱤ ████████. ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ███ ███████ RadĐłØ ₴ⱧØ₩. I-I-It's beɆ₦ ɎɆ₳Ɽ₴, b-b-but I re₵Ø₲₦łⱫɆ th₳₮ vØł₵Ɇ."

This was unexpected. With the wave of his cane, Alastor's powers begin to turn the clock on the sinner's face, repairing it, piece by piece.

"You've heard of me?"

"Ⱨ₳ve I?" The last bit of machinery and glass push themselves in, the cracks instantly healing. A flash, and a now-complete face graces the screen. The distorted voice disappears, replaced by the voice of an enthusiastic man with a filter similar to Alastor's own. "Why, you're my inspiration!" The sinner's face beams with excitement.

Finally, some proper recognition in this hellhole. Alastor's grin turns into a wide smile. Dare he say, genuine, for once?

"Well, well, well! What a surprise! It's not everyday I come across someone who's heard of me before falling into the pits of Hell! Tell me,"

Alastor helps up the television man and straightens his antenna.

"What do they call you, ol' chum?"

The sinner hesitates. No doubt someone or something had informed him about how sinners tend to change their names upon arriving in Hell.

"…Vox."

A peculiar name.

"Well, Voxy, I know a place with the best drinks this side of town! Let's have a chat and get you settled in, hm?"

With an arm around his shoulder, Alastor leads Vox away. Despite his reservations with the...asset...Hell had so graciously gifted this poor soul as a head, maybe having someone with knowledge about television that he could manipulate wouldn't be so bad.

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medusas-graveyard · 10 months

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Crack prompt because I can't stop thinking about that one scene in mlb where Alya scribbled on top of a picture of Adrien and pointed out how he kinda looks like cat noir

Basically still the "Danny is the newly adopted Wayne au", in which he was taken as ransom (he had wished this day never came) and even though he could, hypothetically speaking, just deadass take off the ropes they're binding him in, he had swore to himself that he's going to enjoy being a normal teenager this time around. Also because he's tired.

Cue Batfam™ rescuing him and Danny could not stop staring at him the whole time. He scrunched his gaze especially when Batman himself was undoing his binds and reassuring his safety all while crouching down his level, his face almost too close to him.

He swore there was something so sickeningly familiar about the man, that is, before he realizes just why.

(Technically this is the end of the prompt BUT here's a continuation of what I actually wanna see. Implied autistic & non-verbal Danny but not rlly relevant)

&—

Danny barges into the living room where Bruce was quietly reading, accompanied by the hectic sounds of his siblings playing Mario kart over the couch. When he enters, he enters quietly; doing his best to not bother his siblings, (yet he always found himself feeling that they knew the moment he stepped into the room without even batting a glance.)

Much like Cass, he's non-verbal most of the times. So when he greets his adoptive father, he claps his hands once and waves, smiling like usual.

"Hey, chum. Is there something you need?"

His father's words were always gentle to him; understanding and full of care. He nods.

"Can I place my hand on your face?"

A strange request; he knows. Yet this is something he always felt an impulse to do. He finally breaks and decides to do it. His commitment to do it, however, falters the moment his father looks at him questioningly. An apology on the tip of his tongue—

"alright."

Even the response caught him off guard, yet he makes an appreciating sound and gently placed his hand on top of his father's eyes, just shy on the nose. Even though his hand isn't as big as his father's face, he blinks;

"Batman?"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months

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.⋆｡A Big Night In｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Dickie and Dove finally have a night to themselves

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff, mom!reader, embarrassment, sort of breeding kink?

WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

The Graysons

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Now, if she gets fussy, she really likes the koala with the missing ear. She literally can’t sleep without it.” Dick was panicking, that much was plain to see and Bruce couldn't help but smile. It was moments like this, where his boy was filled with anxiety about something so normal as leaving his 6 month old baby with her grandparents overnight, that made his heart ache in the best way.

“Chum, I know how to take care of Alice, I think the 20 page binder you gave each of us on her needs helps.” He glared at his father, arms tightening around his baby as she sat on his narrow hips, happily playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh leave him alone.” His mother scolded, giving her husband a light slap on his arm. “Don't pretend you weren't even more upset when you had to leave Dick alone for the first time. I seem to remember you calling me every ten minutes to get updates on how he was doing.” A light pink flush spread across Bruce's cheeks at the memory.

Grumbling, his eyes dropped to the floor like a petulant child. “It wasn't every ten minutes.” Dick shot his mother a grateful smile before turning his attention to Alice who didn't seem to share her father's level of anxiety.

It was a big day, her first sleepover without her parents. It would have happened sooner, in fact the first attempt had been when she was three months old. You and Dick needed some 'alone time' and your in-laws had been more than happy to extend their babysitting services. But an hour before they would come to pick her up, you and Dick had a breakdown and cancelled, instead spending the night curled up together in bed, Alice between you.

But, you couldn't put it off any longer. Alice needed to be socialised with other people and you needed to get laid.

So after a tearful goodbye, Dick drove her to Gotham, insisting on a little daddy-daughter bonding time before she was handed over to her grandparents.

“She likes thunderstorm sounds when she goes to sleep. And if she's still fussy, there's some frozen milk in the cooler bag.” Said bag was handed over to the awaiting hands of her grandfather, along with a Wonder Woman themed duffle-bag that held everything else she could possibly need.

“Ba.” Alice spat out, chubby arm pointing to her grandmother. Dick knew he had to get this over with, like pulling off a bandaid.

He pressed a long kiss to the patch of dark hair on the top of her head, inhaling that baby smell she hadn't yet grown out of. “You’ll be good for nana and pops won't you?” She cooed, eyes still locked on the older woman. He sighed, pecking her soft skin a couple more times before she slipped from his arms and placed safely in his mother's.

“Everything will be fine, I promise baby bird. You two have fun tonight.” Dick was quickly shooed out of the manor but not without a vague threat to Bruce to keep her safe, which he brushed off with his usual nonchalance.

By the time he had returned to his apartment in Blüdhaven, his mood had improved, especially with the text he received from you telling him to come straight to the bedroom when he got home.

“Dove?” He called into the darkened apartment, slipping off his shoes as he stumbled forward. A trail of clothes, haphazardly thrown on the hardwood guided him forward. There was a dim glow coming from the room just off of the kitchen, the smell of vanilla like a siren's call.

“Come on Dickie, we have a lot to make up for and not a lot of time to do it.” Your voice called out to him.

Dick groaned and palmed his already throbbing cock- it had been a long time, too long. “You're playing a dangerous game, Dove.” His voice thick with arousal as he called back to you.

His own clothes quickly joined yours, leaving him in just his boxers as he stepped into the bedroom where all the air was knocked from his lungs.

Your perfect, soft, naked body was completely on display for him as you lounged on the bed.

Your skin glowed in the soft orange light of the room and for a moment, Dick thought that there was no way you were real and that you were his.

“Holy fuck.” He watched with wide eyes as your legs fell open, revealing paradise to him, your fingers already tracing over your clit. “Leave it!” He suddenly shouted, now furiously tugging at his boxers. “That's all mine baby!”

Your giggles quickly turned into moans as your husband's strong body forced you further into the mattress and his lips met yours in a truly desperate kiss. Your nails dug into his muscular back making his hips buck into yours.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it daddy?” You cooed into his mouth, your left hand travelling down his front deliberately slow.

He caught your hand before you could reach his cock and with a dangerous gleam in his eye, he responded. “How about baby number 2?”

The cold metal of his wedding ring against your heated thigh sent a shiver up your spine, making his smirk grow as your nipples pebbled beneath his gaze. His fingers inched towards your centre, quickly gathering the arousal that had smeared onto your skin.

“God, you get even sexier by the day.” You gasped as he finally touched where you needed him the most, both easing and adding more fuel to your lust. His own patience was quickly wearing thin so your husband wasted no time in sliding two thick fingers inside you.

“Dick!” You threw your head back with a moan of his name.

“That's it, that's my pretty dove.” With his other hand planted by your head, Dick watched his fingers pump in and out of you, his skin now shinny with your wetness. “You're so fucking wet dove, must be aching for me.”

Your only response was to tighten around his fingers, your orgasm dangerously close. “Please please.” You begged.

“Do you want to cum on my fingers or my cock?” Dick breathed into your ear but the way that he was pressed so tightly against you, you could feel his thick cock throbbing against your thigh, the decision was already made for you.

“Want you inside, wanna feel your cock again.” His body sagged against you as he groaned from deep in his chest.

“Fuck, you can't say stuff like that- gonna make me cum before we even get to the good part.”

“Then you better fuck me already Grayson.” But the bite of your words was softened by the moan he forced from you as he ripped his fingers from your aching cunt and replaced them with the fat head of his cock.

“If you insist.” The first thrust was always deliciously painful as he stretched you out, making you feel every inch of his perfect length until he was nestled against your cervix and his balls pressed tightly to your ass.

Your groans mingled together in a beautiful lewd symphony, filling the bedroom like music. “So fucking tight.” Dick moaned through clenched teeth. “Need to fuck you more.”

“Yes.” You hissed both in response to your husband and because at that moment, his hips twitched causing his cock to brush against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you.

“My poor girl, been neglecting my perfect wife. Gonna make it up to you, make you sit on my face till you beg me to stop.” His first thrusts were tentative, almost shy just like the first time you fell into bed with him but as you began to relax beneath him, he switched it up.

He knocked the moans from your lungs as he jackhammered into you, his own desperate need for release blinding him to everything else. “Never gonna let you feel empty again, I'll make sure you're always full of me one way or another.”

You sobbed with a particularly brutal thrust to your cervix and you dragged your nails down his back, leaving bright red marks. “Yes!” You cried.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking warm and tight, need to cum.”

“Inside, need it inside.” Your ankles locked around his hips. Your stomach began to pull tight just as Dick's thrusts began to waver.

“C'mon dove, cum for me- please.” And you shattered below him, melting into a puddle of ecstasy as your husband filled you with his cum, prolonging your orgasm.

Your left hand tangled in his dark hair and tugged his lips into yours. Your breath mingled as you both came down from your highs but Dick remained inside you, neither of you keen on having this end just yet.

“I love you.” You whispered to him and your husband smiled against your lips.

“I love you.” He replied with a gentle peck. “Soooooo, round 2?”

——————

“Dick's late.” Bruce's eyes once again flicked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room and then to the entryway but once again, there was no indication that his son had arrived.

Looking up from the floor where she had been playing with their granddaughter, his wife rolled her eyes. “Bruce, we've just given them their first uninterrupted date night in months, of course they're gonna be late. And hopefully they spent the night productively.” She said this last part almost to herself as she turned back to Alice who suddenly believed her right foot to be the most delicious thing ever.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his wife. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She sing-songed. “Oh look! They're here!”

And sure enough, Dick and a limping you walked through the door, not looking as well-rested as Bruce assumed you would be but both of you had big smiles on your faces.

“My girl!” Of course Dick immediately dove for his daughter, sending her into peels of laughter at seeing her father trip over his own feet in his hurry to get to her. You instead approached your father-in-law, greeting him with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

“Thank you for watching her, I hope she didn't give you too much trouble.” Bruce waved you off.

“She was an angel, like always. I thought you and Dick were going to get some rest, you look like you haven't slept a wink.” Dick snorted but immediately stopped when both you and his mother shot him a look.

You cleared your throat and with a look of embarrassment, you avoided Bruce's eyes. “We lost track of time and didn't get to bed until late.” You were content to leave it there but apparently, your husband had other ideas.

“Alice, what do you think about having a baby brother?” You and your mother-in-law sighed heavily as Bruce went pale, the realisation finally dawning on him.

“Oh-oh god. I think I need a drink.”

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baddieladdie · 4 months

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Hazbin Hotel Theory:

Alastor's soul is owned by Lilith to look after Charlie

"I'm hungry to freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a back door. Once I figure out how to unclip my wings, guess who will be pulling all the strings" - Episode 8

"It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into...holy arms?" - Zestial, Episode 3

Alastor hasn't been seen in hell for 7 years and Charlie mentions she hasn't spoken to her mother in 7 years either (beginning of episode 1).

"Adam is dead. Your deal is done and I'm in charge now. Your brat is threatening the very foundation of heaven. And if you want to stay here, you're going down there and stopping that bitch. You understand me, Lilith?" - Lute, Episode 8

Alastor immediately having beef with Lucifer stepping in to support Charlie. Lucifer's involvement would also reduce the amount of influence Alastor/Lilith could have on Charlie.

This jab in particular during 'Hell's Greatest Dad' stands out to me because Lilith & Lucifer are separated at this point. Maybe Alastor is dissing Lucifer for not being there for Charlie. All the while, Alastor was involved heavily in the Hotel project, even if that was just by Lilith's demands.

Alastor: Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor. Best of luck chums!"

Vaggie: Wait, you're leaving?! Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job.

Angel: We need a wall.

Alastor: Of course. Can't let my new project fall into disrepair already! What would the papers say?

This last piece may be a stretch - Alastor is on his way to the tailor but still pauses to fix the hotel. How obligated is Alator to keep the hotel in top condition? (Episode 2)

"So then why do you want to help me if you don't believe in my cause?" - Charlie, Pilot

With that radio scratch, maybe Charlie struck a nerve by asking. Alastor was pretty clear that redemption wasn't possible - the nonexistent humanity. Is 'personal entertainment' a cover-up for being forced to help the hotel?

Given the hierarchy of Hell in the hellaverse, there aren't many who could put Alastor in a place of vulnerability or provide services that he cannot do for himself (strike a deal, then). Lilith would have the power to keep Alastor in bonds and may have a motive in keeping an anonymous eye on her daughter.

#My husband and I have been discussing this theroy #everyone is owned by someone #always a bigger a fish #idk #what do you think?#hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor owned by lilith #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel screenshots #hazbin hotel #amazon video #zestial #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel thoughts #hellaverse #vivziepop

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thebestofoneshots · 4 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.2K Warnings: Use of the word fag in a derogatory way. The person that does it gets told off for it. Prompt: After the day you've had, you could really use a drink, if Rem let's you go through with it, at least. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 31: Strange Magic

You walked all the way to the common room as fast as you could, you were hoping your little talk with Reggie hadn’t been so long that it would have Lily and Remus worrying about you. Once you arrived, the lady in the portrait gave you a bit of a scowl.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

You were taken aback. “Me? Whatever did I do?”

She arched an eyebrow at you, looking rather displeased, “You gave the password to that pretty Slytherin girl and her younger friend.”

“No,” you said with a head shake. “I’m not friends with the Slytheri–”

“Hey, Star Seeker!” You heard Minho’s voice from behind. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You winced at that, the fact that Minho had his quidditch sweater on only aggravating the situation further, the lady gave you a look and you shrugged. “I don’t ascribe to the whole house rivalry we’ve got going on.”

“That’s right!” Minho said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “We’re transcendent mates.”

“What?” You asked, turning to him with a frown. “Transcendent mates!?”

“You’re telling me «chowol chingu» doesn’t have a literal translation that makes sense in English?” You shook your head, you might have studied many languages, but you had no idea what chowol chingu meant. “Like, umm…” Minho seemed to struggle to find the right words, trying to think of a time when he heard someone say something similar, “Best chums?”

“You almost blew my head off in the game today!”

“Not my fault you were on the other team,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Barty.”

You laughed. “Best chums then, all right,” you said as you shook your head. “Will you let us in?” you said, turning to the lady in the portrait with the same charming smile you used to convince Remus of silly things.

She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before leaning her head down, “Password?”

You smiled, “Boneless phoenix wings.”

The portrait opened up like a door and allowed both you and Minho to get in. “It’s so much less hassle to get into my common room,” he said with a sigh.

You hummed, “Yeah, your brick wall is nice, a lot less talkative, but the Lady on the portrait is a taste you acquire.”

“How do you know about the brick wall?” He asked, a little confused. “Wait, it was you!”

“No it wasn’t,” you said with a frown and looked around the room, Tom wasn’t too far.

“It had to be you, and it makes so much sense omg, you little–”

“Tom!” you called, the boy turned to you, and you shoved him onto Minho’s face, Minho was terrible at keeping secrets, and you weren’t about to spill the beans about the prank onto him, “Minho was looking for you, go ahead and talk,” You said with a smile before you scurried away. You noticed the blush on Minho’s neck as he threw you a desperate look and you just shrugged and shot him a wink.

You slipped towards your room, Lily had found some nice clothes for you on the bed, and you smiled and changed into them. It was a pair of snug corduroy pants and a thick sweater. It was stylish and yet simple. You cleaned up and changed into the clothes, walking downstairs trying not to cause too much attention, skidding past some with your head low until you reached the spot where Remus stood. Near the fireplace, with a cup in one hand and a plate in the other, he was wearing a quidditch sweater that fit him snuggly, perhaps a little tight.

“That’s not yours,” you said when you approached.

“Sirius gave it to me, said it fit the spirit. Left it with a note on my bed and everything.” He did not mention what Sirius had written in the note, “Wear it if we win, give it to Vix and cheer her up if we don’t”.

“Romantic,” you joked, Remus rolled his eyes, trying to avoid your gaze. “Suits you well.”

“Must be for my dashing good looks.”

“Oh… and it came along with Sirius’ personality.” He chuckled at your joke and finally turned to look at you again, almost allowing himself to get lost in your eyes. “You saved that for me, yeah?”

“In my pockets,” he said, hands still very occupied with food and drink.

“Which one?”

“Back, left,” he said automatically, not realising you would reach down and grab it “Oi! That’s the right,” he complained as you dug your hand in his pocket, brushing his arse and making him panic slightly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and went for the other pocket “Should’ve specified which left.”

“There’s only one left!” he said in disbelief as you pulled the little flask out.

You shrugged “Never been good at knowing which is which.”

“Or… you just wanted an excuse to touch my arse.”

“Oh no!” you said ironically, “You’ve discovered my evil scheme. All I wanted was to get a good feel of those round butt cheeks.” Remus almost choked on his drink from the laugh that got caught in his throat, you smiled and extended the small flask towards him. “Cheers mate,” you said before taking it to your mouth and drinking a few big gulps.

Remus left the plate on the mantle and pulled the flask off your mouth, “Hold up, slow down little witch!” The Firewhiskey was rather strong, he was sure you’d be tipsy in no time.

You looked at him reproachfully, your lips were wet and looked incredibly juicy before you gave them a lick and collected the remnants of alcohol from them, he forced himself to look at your eyes instead “Rem!” you reproached.

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head as he raised the bottle above his head. “You tell me what this is all about and then I give it back to you.”

“I just need a drink.”

“Because of the fall? The monster in the swamp? Whatever you’ve got going on with Nightshade?”

Fucking perceptive werewolf best friend “No.” you said with a loose shake of the head, he realized you were being honest.

You sighed and reclined against the side of the chimney, staring at him through your lashes with an expression akin to a reprimanded puppy. “Can I please…?” He shook his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “I had a talk with Regulus.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed on you, lowering the flask as he looked at you in shock. “If he said something to you that–” The werewolf seemed about ready to throw punches, even if he didn’t think too bad of Reg in the first place, he also saw in him all the things of Sirius you did.

But you shook your head, and he could see the contrition in your eyes, “He didn’t rat us out.”

Remus tilted his head to the side, just a little, prompting you to continue. You let out another deep breath and looked to the side “So then how did…?”

“He said they got an owl,” you explained, “Must have been the creepy wizard from ‘El Maleficio', I get chills from the memory.”

“That’s the muggle but then not actually muggle magic shop, correct?”

“Where we bought the animagus recipe and this,” you said as you pulled out the necklace Sirius had given you.

“He still has the mark from it.”

“The mark?” you asked with a frown.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Remus wasn’t sure if telling you about the bIood magic linked to it was a good idea, “So the man sent a note.”

You shut your eyes at that, and your frown deepened. “They asked Regulus, he lied and then they– they gave him veritaserum.”

“Oh.”

“And then there was the letter–”

“The one you burned down.”

You nodded, “I hadn’t gotten a reply to any of the letters I sent to Sirius and I was angry and sad and–” you sighed, “he said the letter explained it all. Poor Regulus thought I was mad at him even if I knew– And I’ve been treating him like dog shit…” You let your head fall back with a groan. It crashed onto the wall, a little loud for Remus’ enhanced hearing and he worried.

“It was a situational thing.”

“I could’ve been more rational,” you said as you opened your eyes again, a reproachful tone directed straight at yourself. “Attempt to be a decent person–”

“You’re already one of the nicest people I know,” he said “Stupid selfless if you ask me.”

You threw him a look, a half-smile on your lips “I’m not selfless.”

“Says the girl that was ready to be eaten…”

“I wasn’t ready to be eaten! I was thinking of a different approach!” He raised an eyebrow and you pushed him back playfully, “Can I please, please get my flask back?”

“Drinking your sorrows away is not a great habit.”

“What do you mean sorrows? I caught the snitch, I should be celebrating!”

He took a long sip of the firewhiskey before passing it over to you. “Don’t gulp it down again,” he warned.

“Ugh, you’re such a mom,” you replied as you took a sip.

“A mom?!? Not a dad?”

“Daddy maybe,” you snickered, he rolled his eyes at you but smiled regardless.

At some point, Marlene discovered you in the corner and dragged you to dance with her, you barely had time to hand the flask to Remus before she was prompting you to shake around in the improvised dance floor. After a while, you started to feel the strain in your shoulder and decided to lie down instead. But you were stopped by Nox, who waved at you from the side to get closer.

“Hi!” you greeted, “Glad you and Comet made it.”

He nodded in response and then hesitated as if he wanted to say something “Do you,” he scratched the back of his head, “Fucking Neil, I’m getting him for this,” he mumbled. “You see, some kids from my class and a few others who’ve joined decided to make a mini quidditch game.” You hummed in response. “Each of the teams we formed will be allowed to invite one of the pros to the game.”

“One of the pros?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked.

He nodded, “Yeah, one of the members of the quidditch teams…” he took a deep breath. “Would you… would you like to be in our team?” he asked.

You simply nodded, “Sure!” The fact that James wouldn’t be too happy about you over-exerting yourself didn’t even cross our mind “Who’s the other player?”

“It’s Alex Wood,” he told you “You’re friends, right?”

You nodded, “It’ll be nice to see him as a keeper before the official game.”

Nox shook his head “Oh no, he’s… he’s not going to be a keeper, he’ll play chaser.”

“Really?” You asked, a little shocked.

“Yeah, it was part of the rules, so the game was more balanced. We were thinking of making you a seeker, but well, it wouldn’t be very balanced, would it?”

You raised your eyebrows “If that’s your way of complimenting my seeker skills Nox, I’ll take it gladly. Especially from a Slytherin.”

“As if you needed more compliments than you already have,” he scoffed. “Anyway, how do you feel about being a chaser, or a beater?”

“Well…” you said, rolling your wounded shoulder unconsciously.

“Can’t do beater sorry,” Sirius said as he wrapped one of his arms around you, placing his hand near enough your wound, not to hurt you, but to remind you. “She needs some time to recover after the fall.”

“Puppy you’re back!” you said as you leaned onto him. “How was detention?”

“Humdrum, as you’d expect,” he replied, not giving it too much thought. “If you need a beater I could fill in for her.”

“Oh no,” Nox shook his head calmly. “She can be a chaser, it’d better actually, I believe, Solacis wanted to be a beater.”

Sirius tilted his head, and Nox swallowed “Anyway, that was what I wanted to ask, I’ll give you more details about the game during the week,” he said before scurrying off.

You turned to Sirius, “You threw him the look.”

“You shouldn’t be playing quidditch,” he responded simply and squeezed your arm a little. “You should be resting instead.”

You shrugged, “We won.”

He nodded “Peter told me,” he said with a slightly displeased nod and leaned the butterbeer he had in his hand towards you, “Want some?”

You took it from his hand and gave it a sip, “Did he tell you about…”

“The way you fucking jumped off your broom? Of course, he did.”

“Nosy little rat,” you mumbled.

“And you think I wouldn’t have found out?!?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t jump off, by the way… My broom was being coursed, I would have fallen down regardless, I just thought I’d have higher chances of getting the snitch if I leapt towards it.”

“And your counter jinx didn’t work?”

“What?” You asked, head snapping his way, eyes opened wide.

“Your counter Jinx? I assume it wasn’t working because–“ he noticed the surprise on your face. “You did try to use a counter jinx before jumping off your broom, right?” You looked at him, dazed. “Starshine…”

You gave him an apologetic look, “I guess I just didn’t… I needed to get the snitch.”

He groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “You do know counter jinxes, right luv?” he asked, turning to look at you, still from the crook of your neck, his breath tickling over your soft skin.

You swallowed, the closeness making you nervous. “Well… I mean I know a few, not a specific one but–”

“I know a couple, I’ll teach you,” he said determinedly. “We’ll practise next time we go flying with James, I’ll be trying to throw you off and you’ll have to counter it. It’s advanced wandless magic, but if anyone can master it, it’s you.”

You leaned down and gave him a small peck on the temple, “Thanks Pups.”

“Pas de problème,” he said simply.

“Sirius we need to move,” James said as he gripped your boyfriend from his jacket and hauled him off your shoulder.

Your boyfriend groaned at the loss of your touch, “James, next time you cockblock me like this I will hex you.”

“McGonagall is coming,” James said simply. Sirius’ breath hitched.

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked.

“She gave us specific instructions to go straight to our room,” Sirius explained. “Said if we didn’t, we’d be in detention for a lot longer.”

“Invisibility cloak?” you asked looking at James, he shook his head and you took your wand out, disillusioning them both at the same time, “Go, I’ll distract her.”

“Thanks, Vix,” you heard James say quietly.

Then felt a hot breath on your shoulder. “On the hideout we used for Marlene’s party after Maggie’s gone to check our room, I’ll take the cloak.”

You turned to him with a smirk, even if you couldn’t see him, and nodded. Then you moved towards McGonagall, who was looking around the heads of students in the common room.

”Professor!” You called, she turned to you, hesitant, as if she still needed to find something, “Professor I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

She sighed and turned to you, “Yes, darling?”

You smiled at her, charming and apologetic, “If I’m distracting you then–”

She shook her head, almost feeling bad at herself for not giving you the necessary attention, “Are you alright? That was– it was a nasty fall you took on,” she grimaced.

And then you remembered, she was going to be a professional player but fell off her broom and got injured, you instantly felt bad, your fall must have brought back a lot of memories, “I am,” you responded quickly and changed the subject. “But it’s… It’s actually about transfiguration… I thought you would ask Remus to help me with tutoring?”

She looked at you a little taken aback, “You didn’t ask him yourself?”

You shook your head “I should have?”

“Well, since you were in classes together. And you seem to be really close, I assumed you had already… Never mind, would you like me to ask him?”

“Uh… no, no, I suppose I can just do it myself.” She frowned but nodded, and then gave a step as if to go back to searching “Wait!” you said, a little worried James hadn’t gotten to his room yet.

“I’m…” fuck what do I even say, “I’d like to know about contraceptive potions.” The professor seemed visibly scandalised at your question, “For a friend,” you added meekly.

She gave you a rather stern look, I’ve fucked it up, I’ve fucked it up, but McGonagall just sighed and nodded. “It’s only natural to be curious about this stuff,” she started approaching the subject in a rather neutral and tentative tone. I really fucked it up. “Especially when it’s not a subject included in the curriculum. And believe me, I have been trying to include it for the longest time.”

You held back a gasp, looking at her surprised, “Wait, really?”

She nodded, “Generally I gather the Gryffindors in the last year to teach them the basics before they go out in the world but I suppose since you’re dating Mr. Black, and Merlin knows that boy is rather… eager–” You winced, way to throw poor Sirius under the bus. You already knew how to brew the potion, you’d gotten the recipe from a book Marlene had borrowed, given to her by her older sister, and you certainly didn’t expect to have that kind of talk with Minnie, but you had to pull through, for your friends. “So I suppose you could come to our next meeting, of course you’d have to get a letter from your parents stating you can do so, since you’re still under age.”

You nodded, trying to settle the small frown that had formed on your face. Now you’d have to find a way to fake a letter from your mom or something, “Of course,” you said, “thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.”

She gave you a look and sighed again, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You realised you were still blocking her way, and you shook your head “No, no… I’m sorry,” you responded and moved out of her way, looking at the way she disappeared through the stairs. You took a deep breath and sat on one of the sofas. Head laying back as you processed what had happened until you felt the pressure shift beneath you.

You turned to the side and smiled when you spotted him, he had a glass of something that smelled alcoholic in his left hand “Hey Pete!”

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Must have hurt.”

“Prick!” He said with a laugh as he shoved you with his shoulder and then proceeded, “When I was 10 my parents got me my own cat.” He said. You knew he was going to continue talking so you let him. “And we rubbed the kitten on my sister’s older cat so she would accept it as part of their family.”

You nodded, frowning a little as you tried to process what he’d said “I don’t have a kitten.”

He frowned and then realised his statement might have been a little ambiguous. “Oh, well… I mean, you know how Moony chased you fiercely last moon and he’d been chasing after you earlier too. Like, in the previous moons he’d been absolutely relentless, wanting to get in the castle, almost impossible for Padfoot and Prongs to control. I think… well I think it might be because of the way you smell? I mean I’m not nearly as good as Pads with the sense of smell but… you do have a rather strong scent.”

Your frown deepened. Strong scent? “Should I be offended?”

He shook his head quickly “NO! I don’t mean to say that you smell bad!” He was stumbling with his words “I’m just saying it’s distinctive… especially for us, probably a lot more for them since they’re canines too.”

“So… bottom line is, you’re saying I should go rub myself into Remus?!” You asked incredulously. He flushed. But then you thought about it. It wasn’t that far-fetched… “I’m around you guys all the time, the smell should already be there already anyway, right? Didn’t seem to help last Monday either.”

Peter shook his head “You’re not around us in animagi form.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to turn into a fox and then go rub on Remus? Cross my paws he doesn’t eat me on the spot?”

“Not Remus! You could rub on Padfoot or- Prongs…. I’d say me but I’m way too small,” He explained “That would give you the smell of the pack.”

“Right…” you trailed off “And that would work? As in, if I go around, trying to get Sirius’ scent all over me, the wolf won’t try to eat me next time he sees me?”

“It’s worth a shot?” Peter said with a shrug “I mean it’s that or he’ll keep looking for you. You know once a werewolf catches a scent it’s… impossible to stop it. And you’re dating Sirius anyway, so take it as quality bonding time.”

You reclined on the sofa, trying to take all the new information in, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps it really could work. Remus sat beside you a little after “Saw you talk to Minnie, everything all right?”

You groaned at that, letting your head fall back again as you reached for the flask in his hand and brought it to your lips, taking a sip and feeling the taste burn your throat. You sighed, “I need to falsify a letter from my mum.”

Remus raised an eyebrow “Why?”

“I asked Professor McGonagall about contraceptive potions,” you said reluctantly, as you shut your eyes.

Peter, who seemed shocked, was the one to speak next “Oi? Yes I’m coming!” he said as if someone had called him and then stood up and fled.

Remus on the other side, had tensed, but you were way too fucking preoccupied with the memory to notice. “For you and Sirius…” he acknowledged, almost bitterly, “we could’ve gotten them in the restricted section,” he added, trying exceptionally hard not to clench his jaw.

You turned to him in shock, “What?! I didn’t ask because I needed them! I needed to distract Maggie so Prongs and Pads could run off to their room, couldn’t think of anything better. I already have the recipe anyway, Ma– it was given to me.”

“Oh,” he managed to say then, as if your answer made the whole thing better. “You want help with it?”

“With what? The fake letter or brewing the potion?” You asked, diverted.

Remus shrugged, managing to slip back into a chiller demeanour somehow “Both?”

You laughed, “That’s incredibly kind of you Rem,” you responded. “I’ll tell you when I require help… For now, though, I just need a drink,” you said as you took another sip and then remembered the conversation with Maggie again “Ugh, she now thinks we’re nothing but horny teenagers.”

“She’s not wrong,” he teased with a smile and you elbowed him in response.

“Arse.”

You then felt a tug at your hair, you turned around and there was nothing. You narrowed your eyes but took another sip. And then you felt it again. You knew who it was in an instant and stood up.

“You leaving?” He asked as you did, not being able to mask his disappointment, even just having you beside him made him feel better.

“Mhm,” you said as you bit your lip, not wanting to prove his point, “I’ll go get some snacks, want some?”

He shook his head, and you started walking to the hideout. Sirius was just behind you, using the cloak to hide, his hand firmly pressed to your shoulder. You looked back, and then the two of you attempted to slide inside the tight passage, but there were already two people inside. And those two people were snogging. You pulled back, stepping on the cloak and causing it to fall from Sirius’ shoulders. The four of you staring at each other in complete shock. Two of which were a lot more mortified than the rest.

You, being distracted by the situation, did not feel the way Sirius’s hand on your shoulder tensed. And since your back was to him, you also didn’t notice the way his eyes had gone wide or the way his breath hitched on his throat.

“Oh hey Sly Sprite, wanna join in?” Tom joked as he stared at you, Sirius, somehow overcoming the initial shock gave him a murderous look, the same he had used on Nox earlier, the Black family scowl, but it seemed to have no effect on the boy. “You can join too handsome,” he winked. Earning a slap on the shoulder from Minho.

Sirius, who had been enthralled in the sight, was instantly taken aback by Tom’s words as you spoke, “Sorry to bother you boys, we’ll find a different place to snog.” You had a very apologetic look on your face as you grabbed the cloak from the floor but Minho grabbed onto your arm, eyes pleading. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him,” you told him, “Not a soul will find out.”

“You promise?” He asked, still apprehensive. Tom, who had looked diverted up until that point, seemed to understand the delicacy of the subject for Minho, and placed a hand on his upper arm reassuringly.

“Sirius is trustworthy, as much as Sly Sprite, no one will know unless you want it,” Tom said, he was now rubbing Minho’s arm reassuringly.

“Yes, that’s true,” you agreed, “I’ll talk to him Min, just enjoy yourself, and um… maybe put a spell up so this doesn’t happen again.” You then grabbed Sirius by the arm, and covered the two of you with the cloak.

Minutes stretched into silence as you and Sirius moved away from the spectacle, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you pulled him towards a different direction.

Up until then, Sirius Black had never seen two boys kiss. And he was experiencing things he was so not supposed to be experiencing after it. You were still dragging him towards a different section, your hand intertwined with his as you sorted through people, as he stared blankly ahead. You didn’t stop until you were both hidden on a small section near the back of the spiral staircase that you knew was also another snogging spot, but a lot less used because of how cramped it was. You didn’t mind being so close to Sirius though, you never had.

“Tom and Minho, they’re… fags?” he said once you cast a muffliato around the two of you.

“That’s an awful word to use,” you reprimanded with a frown, Sirius seemed to be taken aback by it.

“Gay.”

You tilted your head, making a rather unconvinced hm, that just seemed to confuse Sirius even more, the scene of Tom and Minho kissing replying on his head over and over and over again, sometimes with them, sometimes with different people being the ones kissing. That was the one that scared him the most.

“Well, technically Tom is Bi but–”

“By? By what?”

“Bisexual… or pan I think.” Your brain was a bit cloudy with how much you’d had to drink, and you were so not expecting to have this conversation with Sirius “He just doesn’t give a fuck about gender.”

“And Minho?”

“I think he only likes boys, but I’m not sure, we didn’t talk much about it.” You admitted with a shrug “As you can see it’s a rather delicate subject for him.”

“And you knew? About both of them,” he said with a frown. “Why did you know?”

You shrugged, “Tom told me, with Minho I sort of guessed, and he spilled the beans about… never mind. You are aware absolutely no one can find out about that, right?”

“But why? Rock singers… they too– I mean. Why do they hide it?”

“Cause people will start calling them fags if they don’t,” you said as if it were obvious. “Sirius if you were gay you wouldn’t go out and announce it to the entire world.” And then you thought about your words, and let a long sigh escape your lips “or perhaps you actually would.”

Sirius seemed to think about it for a moment but didn’t say a thing. “So you can like men and women at the same time?” he asked, brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. Of the entire conversation, that had somehow slipped into his brain, and it would mull it over and over again since you mentioned it. He didn’t know.

“Yeah,” you responded with a shrug, “I like girls too, sometimes,” you were not expecting to admit that to your boyfriend, but apparently that firewhiskey had been strong enough to let it slip by.

Sirius was surprised by that revelation, so surprised he almost let go of the initial wave of shock that had gone over him and the images that would play on his brain over and over again. Of Remus in the library, of him and Remus in the library.

His initial reaction faded into a warm smile, and he chuckled lightly, this new discovery about you allowing him to forgo his thoughts only for a second, and mask them with humour, like he was accustomed to, "Well, that's interesting. Any particular stories you'd like to share?" He had an eyebrow raised, a cheeky smile on his lips.

“Sirius.” You admonished.

He shrugged, “What, it’s kind of hot.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned to the side before looking back at him, half diverted that such a revelation garnered said reaction. Perhaps you should have expected it, you were dating Sirius Black after all.

If you had been a little less drunk, and a little less tired from the fall just hours ago, perhaps you would have noticed the way Sirius’ eyes moved rapidly from one side to the other as he was thinking, how he asked about bisexuality with such a careful, and controlled tone, as if trying to sound casual and hoping his nerves wouldn’t betray his thoughts. You would have seen the way you stated you were also bi, had given him a sense of reassurance. As if his thoughts were somehow a little more acceptable now.

But you were exhausted, the fall, the talk with Regulus –that you still had to mention to Sirius– the talk with McGonagall, you were barely holding yourself together at that point. With so many things weighing over your shoulders, too preoccupied with Minho being found out and McGonagall’s thoughts of you that you missed most of it. Letting yourself be easily fooled by Sirius’ half smile and flirty wink.

Eventually, you turned your head back, looking at him straight in the eyes, and adopting a more grave tone “Sirius, nobody will know of what happened in that closet except for the two of us, deal? Not James, not Peter–”

“Not Moony–” he finished.

You were about to tell him Remus knew but thought better of it, Sirius was so naturally curious he’d want to know why he did, and there was no good way of explaining it.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“Okay,” he said simply. “No one will know.”

And then there was silence, something between a rather awkward situation and both of you deep in your thoughts. Sirius’ mind slipping back to the library, and the images of things that had never happened and could never happen, because he loved you. He was certain of that, and whatever the hell was going on in his brain must have been nothing more than his overactive imagination thinking of silly things. Silly tall things with big broad shoulders and brown-golden eyes. Silly things that smelled of books, chocolate and sometimes cigarette smoke. Silly things that he shouldn’t be thinking about but his stupid brain insisted on putting at the forefront of his head.

You had, at some point, gravitated towards him, letting your head fall on his shoulder with a sigh, but didn’t say anything more. He found he liked you being close to him like that. Even if you weren’t kissing, he always liked having you close, holding your hands, or giving you hugs, and you had always been eager to return those affections.

You were perfect, from your smaller frame to the way your breath tickled his neck, from the way your hands intertwined with his to the tip of your shoes clashing against his own. He looked down at you, at your eyes shut, resting on his shoulder, your lashes curling upwards and making you look absolutely angelic, he was sure it was one of the prettiest sights of his life, and yet his mind insisted on switching, the perfect image of you laying on his shoulder replaced by flashes of a taller figure in the library.

To his taller frame and his light brown lashes, to his warm breath and the way his large hand had covered his mouth. It was silly, you were perfect, and Sirius was sure, undoubtedly sure that he loved you like he hadn’t loved anyone in his entire life and yet, he kept thinking of him.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely realised when you let out a long and silent yawn, let alone when the rhythm of your breath steadied or when your body slumped slightly a little more into his. Only noticing when you let out the lightest, most heart-warming snore he’d ever heard. He turned to you, your peaceful sleeping figure, and smiled at himself, admiring the way your eyes would tremble slightly, and the way your cheek pressed against his shoulder forcing your mouth into the tiniest of pouts.

He chuckled “ Starshine! Did you fall asleep?” he teased.

Your eyes opened up slowly, a frown etched on your face as you looked up to him. “No,” you lied shamelessly before yawning. Sirius’s little smirk just grew a tinge more.

“Come on,” he said as he patted you on the arm. “You should get some sleep, you must be really tired.”

You shook your head, or attempted to do it at least, only managing to shake it a little “I wanna be at the party… I wanna be with you.”

Sirius could tell you were a lot more sleep than awake, especially since you were complaining like a toddler, he wished he could get you on recording. “I can’t be at the party,” he reminded you softly, his deep voice echoing in your ears soothingly.

“Then just with you. I like it here.”

“In the cramped space under the stairs?”

You nodded with a confirming hum, “You’re warm.”

Sirius nuzzled his head into yours and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “If the fall is not making your bones creak by the morning, then sleeping while standing up in the most cramped little snogging hole in the entire common room will, come on, let’s get you to your room.”

Your frown deepened “Party popper.”

Sirius had never been called a party popper in his entire life, in fact, he’d go as far as to say he was always the life of the party. But eventually, you woke yourself enough to pull back and stare at him, your eyes still hooded with sleep and tiredness, not having had a minute of relaxation in almost the entire day, and being close to Sirius had somehow gotten you to let all your walls down and rest, maybe it was the dog in him, like a service dog or something.

“You’re cute,” you said suddenly, and Sirius was so surprised that he went red. “Really cute,” you added with a satisfied smile.

He chuckled a little afterwards, “I’m going to start thinking you’re not only sleepy but also seriously drunk.”

You frowned, and yawned again “I’m neither,” you insisted.

Gently, Sirius wrapped the cloak around the two of you and guided you up the stairs, you had leaned your head on his shoulder and drifted between sleep and awake a couple of times as he walked you up the staircase. When you were finally in your room he gave you another look, you lifted your head from his shoulder and tilted it the other way “What’re you looking at?”

“At my stunning girlfriend,” he responded

“Mhm?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, “go to bed now, you’ll feel like shit in the morning. I’ll tell James you’re not flying–”

“I AM flying!” You complained, waking up enough to argue.

“You’ll have a hangover tomorrow–”

“I had only like–” you counted with your fingers, but gave up after you finished with one of your hands, “A few sips.”

“You’re a lightweight then, go to bed.”

You scoffed, “Sirius Black, if you’re gone by the time I walk down in the morning because you convinced Prongs that I’m not coming, I’ll wake up Remus and tell him it’s your fault.”

“Remus?”

You nodded, “He gets pissed if he doesn’t sleep his hours and you’re working on your magical theory project with him tomorrow, he’ll be pissy and make you work extra.”

Sirius frowned, “You little minx!”

You gave him a satisfied smile, “So keep that in mind before leaving tomorrow. Besides, you promised we would practise counterspells.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, the cat's outta the bag. A few chapters ago you were talking about Sirius figuring out Vixen is bi and I had already written this chapter, I kid you not, it was so hard to keep my mouth shut hehe. Side note: more of Sirius' gay panic, it's one of my favourite things to write ngl.

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jamilelucato · 3 months

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The Writer and The Illustrator (Part 01)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Miss [y/n] Summary: Miss [y/n] is not your average young lady, for she is also W. Jabber, a talented writer who challenges societal norms. All was well until her publisher presented her with a new challenge—to write a children's book disguised for adult readers and to have it illustrated. And to help her with the task, she knows only one good painter in London. Age rating: although this chapter is pretty chill for younger audiences, the next parts will have more explicit scenes, so let's keep it 18+. Author's note: I said I'd be back with the Bridgerton boys, and here I am! Benedict, for the win! Hope you guys like it! (Part 02 here!) To read Anthony's fic, click here! For other stories, click here. Enjoy! Miss [y/n] was a writer. A good one, she dared add. Of course, that was unnoticed by the people of the ton, who would not have appreciated female writing, even if it was that great.

For that precise reason, Miss [y/n] prospered in a secret double life, where she was a pleasant lady by day and a fierce author by night. Her publisher was the only man she considered a friend since he knew her true identity and was present in both parts of her life. Needless to say, such an intelligent and refined man, capable of admiring penmanship made by a woman, would already have a wife. And would be dangerously too old to be anything more than an extra father figure in Miss [y/n] 's history.

Being close and such, Mister Brendy often challenged [y/n] 's writing abilities, encouraging her to try new styles in every new book. He'd often advise her towards writing the genre most wanted by the public at that specific time, and [y/n] was always quick to agree — as she held Mr Brendy's opinions very highly. Also, her family desperately needed the money [y/n] provided anonymously. Pretending it was a subsidy presented by an old aunt from the country, the young woman allowed her family some great comfort; furthermore, she permitted herself the luxury of new dresses every season.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brendy. How are you this evening?"

The sky wasn't fully dark when Miss [y/n] popped into the tiny printer's shop, but she was confident enough that nobody followed her in; thus, she modelled no cape or undistinguished clothing. She was merely herself before her old chum and a couple more teen-boy workers.

"Very well, dear," the printer replied, holding a modest smile. Mr Brendy had gently round features, and his smile, even the smallest ones, was exceptionally pleasant to witness. "Hope you're ready to hear your next challenge."

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't, Mr Brendy," she answered, lowering her eyes to the papers over his table, looking for clues to his oncoming request. Most authors did not enjoy working with demands, but [y/n] thrived with them, and she was Mr Brendy's favourite because of it.

"Well, have you how many nephews and nieces again? I always forget; I'm sorry," Mr Brendy got up and walked towards Miss [y/n]'s chair.

"No need to be sorry, Mr Brendy — I, sometimes, forget as well," she smiled. "I currently have three nephews and one baby niece. She's such a lovely newborn!"

The gentleman placed his hands in his trouser pockets, scratching his throat before saying, "Yes, newborns are usually a delight—a blessing."

"Couldn't agree more," Miss [y/n] couldn't help her anxiety taking the best of herself. "But what does my siblings' offspring have to do with my upcoming, in need of writing, book?"

After another scratch of his throat, Mr Brendy finally spoke his true intentions. "Do you remember when you found me shivering from the rain outside and asked if I could publish your first book? And even cold, you managed to make all these demands regarding our partnership?"

"Of course, I remember! I was a baby lassie of fifteen years of age, but wasn't I a captivating writer even then?" Miss [y/n] was only joking but noticed that Mr Brendy wasn't less tense. "Does this talk have something to do with my demands? Do you need to lower my percentage of profit?"

Dear God, she hoped not.

"Nothing of such. Your books are bestsellers, Miss [y/n]. Money is not the problem," he said. "However, your other contract demand... The one where you work alone..."

"Yes?" she was desperately nervous.

"Would you be able to make an exception?"

There was silence in the room. It felt like even the employees outside the tiny office were muted, waiting for her answer.

"I'm sorry, Mr Brendy, but what are you implying? You want me to write in association with another author, is that it?"

"Not another author per se," he gritted his teeth, and the noise startled Miss [y/n]. "No," he restarted, "I don't want your writing to get jumbled up. You have a magnetic way of putting words to paper; I would never allow anyone else to interfere with that."

"Thank you," she said, happy for the compliment, though confused about how to respond. Mr Brendy was a good man, but he rarely presented free praise.

"I want you to work partnered with a painter, an illustrator. See, this is where your nephews come to action — children's books are the latest fashion, the genre bestseller of the hour. We have no author good enough to conquer that style the way we want," he paused, "— at least no better writer than you."

She was flattered but primarily confused. Her books weren't for children. Under the name of W. Jabber, she published pieces about politics and devotion, death and art, but all of that over a darker tone, very adult if you dare. What would be her place when speaking to children? What story could she have stored to tell those little kids rushing to a bookshop, looking for the newest realise?

"I want you to write a children's story the way only you could — designed for the parents. I want it perfectly disguised so that, when a parent fetches the book — tediously and only doing it for the quietness of their offspring — they get stunned to find out the narrative is very well made for them as much as the child."

"You reckon I could write such a thing?" she asked in a second of bravery. "I don't think I can."

"Upon rereading your latest, my dear, I discovered that if anyone can, it is you," he said. "When I first read Storms of Love, I could never have deduced the novel was about the Priest falling in love with his bastard son. At first glance, the story felt like a mother missing her son when he decided to go to seminary!"

She pressed her lips together, feeling shy. It was a horrible habit, as the lady knew she looked dreadful when she did it, but she couldn't help it. How many times, during balls, did she have to hear people praising her without knowing that Jabber was [y/n]?

"Again, thank you, Mr Brendy. You know I adore compliments," Miss [y/n] tried to smile, but she couldn't disguise her dismay. "Regardless, I…"

"I would never force you, Miss [y/n]!" the printer rushed closer to her, taking the liberty of placing a hand on her covered shoulder. "But before you say anything, know that the illustrator would be one of your selections, and we could do the whole interaction anonymously if you so desire."

"It's not the teamwork that unnerves me, Mr Brendy, but the writing of a children's book for adults." Miss [y/n] stared deep into Mr Brendy's eyes, but that was a wrong choice. His big, green eyes stared at her back, filled with hope for her to accept. How could she say no to the older man who knew her more than her father?

She placed her hand over his on her shoulder before saying, "Do you truly believe I am the best option for this chef-d'oeuvre? It takes courage to defy society with a youngsters' novel."

He smiled in that way only a proud grandparent could. "Yes, I believe you can."

After the conversation with Mr Brendy, Miss [y/n] at least managed to secure the illustrator would be her pick and not be some random person chosen by the printer.

That was exceptionally tricky, however. [y/n] did not know a bunch of painters — at least not enough that were indeed talented for her intentions or kind souls that would not reveal her identity. She did not want to be Lady Whistledown's next victim.

Miss [y/n] came up with one name and one name only. It was the only name not crossed from her list made in the dim candlelight of past midnight.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Thorny indeed. Could she trust him?

She and her parents had been friends with the Bridgerton family for years now, and Francesca was what [y/n] could call her best long-distance friend, but how far did she know Benedict?

He was a second son, which did not help his reputation, but there was no denying he was a gentleman and a remarkable artist. They used to play together at Aubrey Hall when they were both too young to feel ashamed.

Benedict was her friend, at least as far as being friends with a man could go for a single lady.

Subsequently, Miss [y/n] waited for the promised ball Lady Danbury would throw for the people of the ton, anxious to see if Benedict would say yes to her proposition and not tell anyone her little secret.

"Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]," said Lady Danbury, appearing out of thin air beside the young lady, "you look nervous. What for, my dear?"

[y/n] swallowed hard. "Do I? I suppose I could look like that, but I promise I'm fine as a horse."

"If that horse is about to go racing," said the old lady sharply. "Seriously, sweetie, entertain me. I fear this is the first ball I throw where nothing good happens. It starts to hurt this hostess's feelings, you know."

"Lady Danbury, well, if you must know…." [y/n] was certainly not about to tell her the real reason beyond her nervous appearance. Lady Danbury was a lady of gossip, and that was the last thing [y/n] needed. "My mama, just yesterday…" started [y/n], but she never managed to finish her lie because Lady Danbury interrupted her with a yell.

"Mister Bridgerton!"

Oh, Christ. [y/n] felt like she was all wet with sweat. What were the odds?

"Mister Bridgerton!" shouted the old lady again, this time prolonging the last name of the gentleman walking by.

"You know, Lady Danbury, I'm not obliged to answer since there are three 'Mister Bridgerton' alive at the moment," said Benedict, stopping closer with a grin. "Two of them are at this party right at this moment."

Lady Danbury hit him with her cane, and the gentleman pretended to feel pain beyond what he must have felt. "Very funny, Mr Bridgerton, but we both know one of them isn't even old enough to be called mister."

"Yes indeed; Colin is a not fully formed child, but I rather only Bridgertons talk about that," he joked.

Only when his giggle ceased did the tallest Bridgerton siblings notice Miss [y/n]'s presence. It was a bit embarrassing for her, as she was staring at him laughing and how magnificent he looked — so relaxed that his hair moved with the movement of his chest. She had to tilt her head quite a lot to face him, so there was no covering her gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. I did not see you there."

"Clearly," Lady Danbury whispered in her condescending tone, making her sound like a teenager.

"Good evening, Mr Bridgerton," Miss [y/n] said, ignoring Lady Danbury's comment and smiling at the gentleman before her. She had been looking for him after all.

"And now you two have been officially introduced," said Lady Danbury surly, allowing no interruptions. "Can I finally talk to you, Mr Bridgerton, about what I wanted?"

"You, calling upon me, had a reason!" said the Bridgerton man at the same time Miss [y/n] burst: "We knew each other already!"

"Oh, all right," Lady Danbury sighed, defeated. Benedict and [y/n] smiled, feeling victorious — but Benedict's smile was broader. "Mr Bridgerton, I insist on talking to you as I'm sure you must be anxious to meet my niece."

"Your niece?" he echoed.

"Yes, the one coming from Chester," continued the old lady. "Winnie Danbury. You had heard about her coming, yes?"

Lady Danbury's eyes seemed challenging as if asking for one of them to deny her tellings, as [y/n] was sure no one mentioned Miss Winnie before. However, they both stayed silent, agreeing with a head shake.

"Miss Winnie Danbury," said [y/n], testing the name, "is it her first time here in London?"

Lady Danbury moved her body to face Miss [y/n] as she had partially forgotten about the girl's presence. [y/n] was a charm; the old lady had only good things to say about her, but sometimes the Miss would rather stay in a corner barely lit, which infuriated Lady Danbury. Miss [y/n] was a beauty; she needed to be seen more often — even if society didn't agree with the elderly lady.

"Yes, it is," replied the aunt. "Oh, she's beautiful, Mr Bridgerton. And so talented! Did you know she plays five different instruments?"

Of course she does, [y/n] thought, sighing to herself. The anonymous writer dreamed of playing an instrument or, at least, being able to draw. She'd like to have another artistic talent besides writing. It was well viewed when a woman played wonderfully and even painted; it all did better than writers. Writing for a woman was like talking to the devil; her great-uncle had told her once when she'd suggested she had some talent for it.

"Lady Danbury, it will, undoubtedly, be a pleasure to meet another member of your family," said the gentleman.

"Especially if she's like you," whispered [y/n], afraid her tone sounded too provocative for the old lady's ears.

"But," continued Benedict, pretending not to have heard the young woman's comment, although the left corner of his mouth indicated otherwise, "is there any reason you should be offering your niece to me?"

"Why, yes! You are the oldest Bridgerton bachelor at the moment," said Lady Danbury and turned to Miss [y/n] before restarting, "and it would be a lovely match, wouldn't it?"

[y/n] had no reason to disagree.

"Of course. A Danbury with a Bridgerton, the missing couple in London."

Lady Danbury smiled as if she knew more than those young fools, and touching Benedict with her cane, she began to depart.

"I'll leave you alone, as I feel that my mission here is already complete."

"Oh no, please," Benedict pronounced sarcastically, "stay and tell us more about Miss Winnie."

But Lady Danbury had already turned away and walked away from the two of them, focusing her attention on Penelope Featherington, who was creeping through the room, trying hard not to be noticed.

Mr Bridgerton looked immediately unnerved by the noble lady's departure as if he didn't know what to say to Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. And he didn't.

The two had known each other for a while and were even good friends, but she remained an unmarried woman in the presence of an unmarried man, and alone, the two seldom exchanged words. They were sharp when doubled against another Bridgerton or one of her brothers, but Benedict had always seen her as just one of the women of the ton.

She had her appeal, a magnificence in disguise. For example, she didn't take anyone's breath away but wasn't ugly to look at. In addition, she had more prominent curves than other women, a virtue when it came to her cleavage but a flaw when considering her corset region.

Benedict never judged her for that. On the contrary, he liked knowing she had something he could hold onto.

No.

He didn't like it.

Why exactly am I thinking about Miss [y/n]'s curves? The gentleman chastised himself. Forget it before you say something foolish!

Miss [y/n] noticed the dreadful hush and decided to speak first since she had something to say.

"Mr Bridgerton, I... I'd like to have a word with you," she felt her cheeks flush with nervousness. "In a less... crowded place."

Benedict gulped. So he spoke aloud. Bollocks.

"I have a business proposition. Perhaps it will interest you," she resumed, relieving Benedict immediately. "You still paint, yes?"

"Yes," he replied overly quickly.

"And you draw?"

"Well, yes." The gentleman stopped talking to reminisce. Would she like a portrait? Strange. No one hired painters during balls, and never, ever should a single lady ask a gentleman for a painting (at least not if she wasn't interested in the man himself).

Does she have an interest unrevealed? He thought but renounced the idea. It was [y/n] who stood before him. The same girl who played in the mud and one day made fun of him for having such fragile hands.

She had no interest in Benedict other than his artistic gifts.

"Need a painting, Miss?"

"Not precisely…" She looked nervous. "Can you pace with me to the refreshment table?" she asked, walking over to it before hearing him nod. It was the least guarded place in the salon at that moment.

He followed her, for he was too curious to drop it.

"How would you feel…" she started saying after analysing their surround "if it was offered to you a chance to illustrate a book?"

"A book?" he echoed, a bit too loud.

[y/n] waited a bit before continuing.

"A children's book, but adults can deeply interpret it."

"That's rather specific," he pointed out. So what was the meaning of all that? How was [y/n] in any power to offer him such a proposition?

"Mr Bridgerton, I simply want to know if you could be interested. If you are not, then I'll never mention it again," she said, her voice slightly shaky, even though she was playing chilliness.

Benedict took a step further, thinking she was out of her mind and only his closeness could bring her to her senses. "How can you do me such an offer, Miss? As I recall, your father is not in the editing, writing and printing business."

She closed her eyes tight, not believing she was about to confess to Benedict Bridgerton.

"But I am."

"Yeah, right," snorted the Bridgerton gentleman, crossing his arms in front of his chest. But [y/n] stayed utterly silent; she didn't dare utter a word, and Benedict could not stare at her big, closed eyes for that long without wondering: who was she? He was momentarily sure he didn't know. "[y/n]?" he called her, daring, in a whisper, to utter her first name.

[y/n] opened her eyes, surprised that Benedict had used her first name. She had always thought of him as Mr. Bridgerton, the handsome and charming gentleman whom society's most eligible ladies always surrounded. But now, she was asking him for help and needed to trust him with her secret.

"Yes, it's true," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm W. Jabber, the author of several books. I published under a male pseudonym."

Benedict was stunned. He had heard of W. Jabber's work and greatly admired "his" writing. He had no idea that the author was Miss [y/l/n], the girl he had known since childhood. He looked at her, seeing her in a new light. She was not just the girl who played in the mud; she was a talented writer who broke society's rules to pursue her passion.

"I had no idea," he said, his voice full of awe.

"I know," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's not something I can share with many people."

"And you want me to illustrate your next book?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his childhood friend was a published author.

"Yes," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "I've been working on a new book, and I think your illustrations would be perfect for it."

Benedict smiled, feeling honoured that she had asked him. "I'd love to help you," he said. "But how will we do it in secret? We can't let anyone know."

"I have a plan," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Meet me tomorrow at the park, and I'll tell you all about it."

Benedict nodded, feeling a sense of excitement at the thought of working with [y/n] on a secret project. He had always admired her intelligence and wit, but now he saw a new side that intrigued him even more.

As they returned to the salon, Benedict couldn't help but wonder what other secrets Miss [y/n] [y/l/n] was hiding. But for now, he was content to focus on their new project, a collaboration that would push the boundaries of society and showcase their talents in a way that no one else could.

#benedict bridgerton #Benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x yn #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton #polin #lady danburry

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scoonsalicious · 3 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 8, Unexpected - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, bit 'o' dirty talk, allusions to sexual situations, Tony being Tony.

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: Tony invented an interesting game for the team to play while you and Bucky were otherwise... occupied, and the team voted on whether or not to approve Jade's probationary term. To your surprise, Bucky voted against it, though it didn't matter, as you were outvoted, but you were grateful for his support.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 8! I know Bucky said some shitty stuff in Ch. 7, Pt. 1, but I'd like to clarify that none of what was said was out of malice or lack of care for Pocket. He just truly wasn't thinking about how the things he said would make her feel. Is it callous? Absolutely. Is it unforgivable? I don't necessarily think so. We all have moments where we simply speak without thought. It's not his finest moment in the fic, but it's also not going to be his worst.

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch

The next few weeks were some of the best of your life. True to his word, Bucky was romancing the absolute shit out of you. It seemed like nearly every night, he was whisking you out for another romantic dinner, or to this hole-in-the-wall jazz club he found so he could finally take you dancing ("the proper way, not this humping-while-standing-up-thing you kids do nowadays"). He brought fresh flowers to both your suite and your office once a week like clockwork, and the sex-- well, there were some mornings you couldn't even walk properly. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Together, you existed in your own little bubble, a new level of happiness unlocked in both of you that neither one ever expected to achieve.

The day of Jade's move-in to the Tower arrived, and you would have completely forgotten all about it if Tony hadn't mentioned it to you when you passed him in the hall on your way to meet Bucky in the common room for lunch. The reminder didn't weigh you down like you had expected it to. While she was unpleasant, and you didn't expect to become chums with her anytime soon, that burning rage you'd felt for her when she'd flirted with Bucky had subsided. Knowing how he felt about you had worn your jealousy down to non-existent.

You entered the common room, spotting Bucky kneeling in front of the coffee table, his back to you, as he took the lunches he'd ordered for you out of their takeout carriers and arranging them on the surface.

Feeling playful, you decided to sneak up on him, covering his eyes with your hands when you finally reached him.

"You know I heard you coming a mile away, doll," he chuckled, reaching around to pull you into a kiss. "Could smell you, too."

"Oh, I--" You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you sank next to him on the floor. Just thinking about Bucky was enough to get you aroused most days, but for it to be enough for him to smell--

"Relax, ya pervert; I meant your perfume," Bucky laughed, passing you a bottle of iced tea from the take out bag. You playfully swatted at him.

"You're awful," you admonished with a grin.

"Yet, you love me," he shot back, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"The world is full of mysteries," you teased. You started opening up the container of Gaeng Daeng Bucky had ordered from your favorite Thai place. The portions were so large, you'd only ever be able to eat half of it, but that was just fine; your super soldier boyfriend would make sure none of it went to waste.

"I do love that lilac perfume on you," Bucky mused as he dug into his own plate of Pad Krapow Moo Saap. "Mixes so nice with the scent of your pussy."

You choked on a bite of your curry as Bucky broke into a fit of laughter. Handing you your bottle of tea, Bucky gently rubbed your back as he tried to reel himself in. "I'm sorry, doll. Drink this. Don't go choking to death on me, now."

When you were finally able to get your breathing back under control, you shot him a look.

"What?" he said, face the picture of innocence as he held up his hands in surrender. "'s not my fault you have the prettiest pussy I've ever laid my tongue on."

For the sake of propriety, you wanted to be mad at, or at least a little annoyed by him. But, Lord, if his words didn't do things to you. So, instead, you grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him toward you in a bruising kiss. His hands quickly guided your body down, until you were lying on the floor and he was resting on top of you, your Thai food temporarily abandoned as you gave in to one another.

Bucky had just begun pawing at your clothes when you both froze at the sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat in the doorway.

"Common Room's closed for maintenance. Come back later," Bucky called over his shoulder without even looking. You couldn't help but laugh as he resumed kissing you. The man had no shame and you were kinda into it.

"Buck." The single word, low and harsh from Steve left you both frozen in place. In unison, you picked your heads up and looked to the door. Standing in the archway were three individuals-- one looking at you with barely disguised amusement, one with undisguised rage, and one who was trying very hard not to look at you at all.

"I hope you're not fraternizing on company time, Pocket," Tony said with a grin. Surprisingly, he had warmed up to the idea of you and Bucky being together (especially after you had threatened to "take my talents somewhere where my personal life won't be scrutinized and judged." "You wouldn't!" he'd gasped. "I wouldn't want to," you'd replied. "Don't let that be my only remaining option." It had been an empty threat; you both knew it, but it had been enough to get him on board).

The same couldn't be said for the man who refused to look at you, though. Since you and Bucky had officially begun dating, Steve had been ignoring you like you had cooties and he was unvaccinated, and you couldn't, for the life of you, figure out why. You'd brought your concern up to Bucky one evening, sure he'd assuage your anxiety, but he just told you to give the other man time to sort himself, leaving you with more questions. Did Steve hate you now because he thought you'd stolen his best friend from him? Or were those ‘Stucky’ shippers on Tumblr onto something?

"Like you're one to talk, Boss," you sassed back to Tony as you and Bucky extricated yourselves from your compromising position and stood up. Brushing down your pants, you turned to Bucky. "Can't even begin to tell you how many girls I've walked in on this guy with in the office before Pep came into the picture. Scarred me for life."

Tony had a faux-sappy look on his face and let loose a couple of fake sniffles as he clutched his hands to his heart. "Office dalliances of her very own. My little girl is all grown up. There is nothing more for me to teach you, precious Padawan." His hands moved to wipe away at a fake tear.

"Tony," Steve warned with a raised brow.

Tony blanched, as though just remembering his purpose for being in the common room. "Oh, yeah. Um, very unprofessional, you two. I'm shocked. Just scandalized. This is a place of business, blah blah blah and all that. Anyway, you remember Jade Carthage, our newest Probationary Avenger."

Ah, the third individual who was glaring at you with unadulterated hatred in her eyes.

"Vixen, nice to see you again. Welcome to the team." Bucky extended his hand for Jade to shake, and you watched her gaze soften and melt under his as she took his hand.

"Such a pleasure to see you again, Sergeant Barnes," she cooed. When Bucky released her hand, she turned to you, a cold, wicked smile that cut like a knife across her face.

"I don't think we've met," she said, extending her hand to you. "I'm Jade Carthage, but please, call me 'Vixen.'"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you said, with a shrug, as if completely nonplussed that she claimed not to know you. “My friends call me ‘Pocket,’ but Ms. (Y/L/N) should suffice.'" You took her hand to shake it. "CTO of Stark Industries, head of Innovation and Technology for the Avengers’ Initiative. Bucky's girlfriend." Jade's grip around your hand tightened, her super soldier strength making it feel as though she were crushing your very bones, but you held on, not letting a single ounce of pain show on your face. You'd dealt with worse.

When you didn't back down, Jade let your hand go. You flexed your fingers, relishing in the return of blood flow to your appendages.

"Buck," Steve said, and you were kind of hoping for more than just a single syllable out of him this time, "we're putting Jade next door to you. Mind showing her where to go? We've already had her stuff moved in. Tony and I just need to finalize some paperwork with her and we'll have her back down."

Sensing your body tense up at Steve's request, Bucky placed a reassuring hand at the small of your back. "Well, I'm in Pocket's room most nights now, anyway." He looked down at you, offering a soft smile that you returned. "But since she's just across the hall, yeah. We can walk you down, Jade. That is," he added, his smile turning a little naughty, "if I can convince my girl here to take the afternoon off and indulge me with a bit of her time." His arm moved from your back up to around your shoulders, and he pulled you into him.

"Well," you hemmed, as though not already completely convinced that would be an absolutely wonderful idea, "I have to check with my boss first. Hey, Tony?" He pursed his lips at you, clearly not pleased that you wanted to slack off. "Can I take the afternoon off?" He opened his mouth, most likely to deny you, but you cut him off "Oh, wait-- that's right. I don't actually report to you anymore." You turned back to Bucky. "We're good to go, baby." You winked and blew Tony a kiss. You both knew you had so much unused vacation time stacked up, you could not show up to work for a year and you'd barely tap into it.

"Great," Bucky said with a smile. "We'll finish our lunch and you can meet us back here when you're done finalizing your paperwork, and we'll show you your new digs."

Steve nodded and grunted his consent, while Jade just glared at you.

"Perfect," said Tony with a clap of his hands. Before turning to leave, he looked back at you and Bucky with a conspiratorial nod. "Just make sure to finish off your lunch and not each other, got it? I'm not due to have this carpet shampooed for another couple of weeks, and they charge extra for dealing with bodily fluids."

"Oh, gross, Tony," you moaned, while they walked off, Tony laughing to himself.

Once they were gone and you and Bucky had settled back around the coffee table to eat your now cooling Thai, you leaned in and kissed him. "Thank you," you said when you'd pulled away.

"For what?" he asked, breath a little uneven from the kiss.

"For being amazing and handling that entire thing perfectly," you told him, putting a hand on his knee.

He smiled at you, his blue eyes like crystals. "I told you, sweetheart, gonna be the best goddamned boyfriend you ever had, and that means making sure I'm not putting myself in a situation with her" he nodded his head toward the now empty doorway, "that makes you uncomfortable. Besides, it was really immature of her to pretend she didn't know who you were. I'm not going to spend alone time with someone who disrespects my girl like that."

You brought your hand up to stroke his jaw. "Have I told you how much I fucking love you?"

"Yeah," said Bucky, smiling at you through a big bite of his food, "but you might have to repeat yourself a lot. I am over a hundred, you know. My hearing's not what it used to be."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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zilabee · 19 days

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Tony Bramwell on Brian:

- Brian dropped in at the Cavern and, spoiled for choice, fell in love at first sight with each of the Beatles in turn

- Brian almost promised to love, honour and obey them.

- He never publicly showed his embarrassment with poor deals, but one could tell something wasn’t right because inside, he anguished. Chewed his knuckles and grew pale.

- He was a fiercely loyal and honourable friend to those he loved, and ruthless toward those he despised

- He was shy to the point of blushing and stammering, and theatrical to the point of ranting and frothing at the mouth

- His biggest problem, perhaps his only real problem, was that he was homosexual in a still very unenlightened era. It kept getting in the way. Whenever he sat down for a meeting with heavyweights like Sir Joseph Lockwood at EMI, or whoever, he felt they all knew. “They’re talking behind my back, Tony,” Brian said. “They don’t respect me.”

- Paul was fond of Brian and thought he was the best possible manager: one who was courteous, who didn’t interfere with their private lives, but achieved all he said he would do. He never criticized him—none of us did. Brian was a god. (It was only later that the façade cracked a bit, but even then we loved him. He was like family, and you accept your family for what they are and forgive them most anything.)

- his wonderfully fertile mind continuously thinking up innovative ideas and then worrying about them

- Brian was so different when around his beloved protégés. He became one of them. He was a friend, a chum, charming, trustworthy and kind. He set out to do what he promised and they all said it would never have happened without him.

- Brian bought an off-the-shelf company named Suba Films, which I virtually ran. It was way ahead of its time, the only independent company in England making music videos

- Whenever things got raunchy and out of hand around us, he would make his excuses and leave. At times, he almost ran.

- [on writing his biography]: “You don’t think John will think I’m raining on his parade, do you?” he asked hesitantly.

- I believe that Brian’s paranoia over the Beatles’ contract and his heavy use of drugs led him to think that it was only a matter of time before everything came tumbling down and he would be left standing in the ruins, with people pointing their fingers like kids in a playground.

- He was seriously ill and desperately sought to escape from the circus of his own creation.

- He was tormented by the idea of letting down his beloved Cilla and the Beatles, particularly John.

- He underwent deep sleep therapies at the Priory, being put under for days at a time with heavy drugs.

- Whether he managed the Beatles or not, he would still get 25 percent of their earnings from record sales for nine years. This subtlety had somehow escaped the Beatles, but it bothered Brian. It gnawed at his conscience because in his heart he knew he had conned them.

- [He] was abnormally distressed, convincing himself that they weren’t going to sign up again because they loathed him. Going through months of paranoia, he looked for reasons and forlornly asked the question, “Don’t they like me anymore?”

- It was so silly because it wasn’t like that at all. At different times, all of them commented to me that they would never have signed another contract as “Beatles” but they would have signed individually with Brian.

- “No, I think John hates me now. I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t sign. What will people think? I can see the headlines now: EPSTEIN DUMPED BY BEATLES.”

- He was now seriously unhappy, not just troubled. His personality had radically changed.

- Brian had resident nurses, doctors who stayed, psychiatrists who lived in, all crowded into that little doll’s house, getting on each other’s nerves. At times he’d make an effort. He would sweet-talk everyone and then escape when they weren’t looking.

- [after Brian's death] Joanne was in shock. She had seen him first. The doors had been broken down and there he was, curled up on his side in bed with Saturday’s mail lying next to him. “We all knew at once that he was dead, but I heard myself say, ‘It’s all right, he’s just asleep. He’s fine,’ ” she said.

- It was unbelievable that the man who had got all this going—the vast money-making machine and the culture shock that had changed the world—was gone.

- The Summer of Love was over and autumn coming.

- I have been asked many times why it was that the Beatles didn’t just hire an office manager to handle their business affairs and pay him or her a salary. It would have made sense. But it never occurred to them. They just went blindly on, trying to find someone to replace Brian, like it was some kind of law. They seemed to think that they had to have a manager, to whom they had to give 25 percent of their gross income, or they’d be arrested or drummed out of the Brownies.

#knowing that joe lockwood was gay changes so many little things about the beatles dealings with him #brian epstein #tony bramwell #beatles books #the beatles

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disillusioneddanny · 6 months

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Meet the Waynes

Bruce Wayne was a quiet boy. Of course, he was. At eight years old he had lost the most important people in his life. Had been forced to grow up far faster than he had ever expected to at such a young age. It was a difficult thing for the little boy to come to terms with and while Alfred was wonderful and was certainly doing his best to raise his young ward, Bruce Wayne often found himself wondering if he would ever have a chance of a family again, something he highly doubted would happen. Bruce was an only child, as were his parents. His grandparents both maternal and paternal had died long before Bruce had ever been born. Alfred himself did not have any other living family members.

It seemed that the two were alone. No more family for either of them. And for the most part, Bruce was okay with it. Yes, he missed the way his mother would wrap him up in a tight hug and kiss all over his face leaving behind remnants of her usual dark red lipstick across his cheeks. And he missed the way that his father would throw him high in the air, catch him once more, and call him chum as he asked about his day.

Alfred did neither of those things.

Alfred was kind and caring and he gave Bruce wonderful hugs and he cooked Bruce delicious meals but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t sure that Alfred knew how to be a dad but he was trying his best. The scary thing, though, was that this was it for Bruce. He would never have a family again, he would be alone. Alfred was already old, there was no way he would be able to live forever.

Bruce once thought that the adults in his life were immortal. Two bullets quickly ruined that dream for the eight-year-old boy. And now he found himself riddled with anxiety for the day that he would also lose Alfred, the only family left in his life. And that thought hurt. It hurt far more than Bruce had ever imagined. He had never even imagined something as scary and as painful as losing his parents and then it had happened and he had lost it all.

What was worse was that Alfred was trying, he was and Bruce knew that the butler was trying his best. But it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Bruce’s dad and he never would be! And he had told the butler as such, had screamed it in his face after a nightmare, after bright flashes and the thundering sound of gunshots woke him from a dead sleep. It had left him sweaty and scared and angry. He was so angry his little boy couldn’t handle it any longer and when Alfred had tried to hug him, Bruce had run, had shouted mean words that he had almost immediately regretted. But it was too late, he couldn’t take back his words and he couldn’t fix his now completely broken family.

It had led him to run to his favorite hiding space, a place where no one would find him.

It was what led the eight-year-old boy to the current situation before him. Here he stood in the attic of the manor staring at a bright green swirling circle that seemed to be one with the north wall.

Ever the curious boy, he found himself walking towards it cautiously. A small, sure hand pressed against the green swirls and let out a gasp as his hand pushed through it. He let out a small grunt as his little body fell through before he could stop himself.

The boy tumbled through the portal and landed on his knees in another room. It looked almost like the attic that he had just been in only, only it had been completely and totally made over! The room had been entirely renovated, the walls painted a soft gray color. Work desks lined the walls with all kinds of trinkets. Behind him stood a large metal circle that was plastered to the wall, the green swirling mass gone completely.

“Oh no,” he whispered, scurrying to his feet as he pressed his hands against the smooth wall. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he chanted out.

Anxiety filled his bones and veins, his heart started to thud in his chest as he hit his tiny little fists against the wall. Bruce let out a sob as he hit at the wall. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know what had happened. Not only that but he had run away from Alfred, and had tried to hide from the man who had done nothing but love Bruce. Who was trying his best when no one else was. Who was trying to just take care of the most selfish little boy in the world.

He couldn’t believe he had done this.

Couldn’t believe he had run away and fallen through a strange portal.

“Demon Brat, what the hell are you doing up here? I’m pretty sure Dad banned you after last time,” a voice said and Bruce spun around to find a teenager staring down at him in annoyance. The boy’s face fell as he took in Bruce and let out a soft curse. “Oh shit. Oh fuck don’t tell me you came out of that portal.”

Bruce nodded his head slowly, still staring up at the teenager, his heart racing in his chest.

“Shit,” he groaned. “You have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for the chance to go through that portal!”

“Um, why?” Bruce asked hesitantly. “Can’t you just reopen it? I need to go home.”

“Shit,” the guy said again, running his hand across his face in annoyance. “No, I can’t open it! I’ve been planning this for weeks, kid!”

Bruce watched as the teenager let out a huff and tapped his foot in thought. Bruce took it as a moment to take in his surroundings and the teenager in front of him. He was tall, insanely tall, and built like the army men that Mother had bought him once a few years ago. He had large muscles up and down his arms and legs and looked like he could crush Bruce’s skull with one hand. He had dark black hair and a single white stripe right up the front.

Bruce had to hold back a giggle as it reminded him of a skunk. But he was still young, definitely a teenager, maybe eighteen or nineteen from what Bruce could tell.

“What are we going to do? I need to go home,” Bruce finally said as it seemed that the teenager still hadn’t come up with an idea.

The teenager stared at him for a moment and Bruce could practically see the cogs in his brain moving slowly as he tried to come up with a solution. “What we’re not going to do is tell my dads. They’ll ground me for life if they find out I let someone in through a portal. And we’re going to find Tim. Because if anyone in this manor knows how to open the portal it’s him!”

Bruce pursed his lips and nodded his head once. “Then we need to find him fast. My,” he stopped for a moment. What was Alfred to him? He wasn’t his dad, he was more than just a butler. “My guardian will be worried,” he finally decided, staring up at the teenager.

“I understand. We’ll get Tim and we’ll fix this as fast as possible, got it?” He said before grabbing Bruce’s hand and dragging him out of the attic. Bruce found himself staring in wonder as they hurried down the steps and took in everything around him.

He was still in Wayne Manor, that much was for sure. But everything was so different. There were so many pictures on the walls and they had all been painted so many different colors.

It wasn’t the same as his manor. It looked lived in now.

Maybe he was in an alternate reality! Maybe this was like Narnia. Only instead of going through a wardrobe to a magical land. He fell through a portal to an alternate reality! It had his heart feeling a little happy that the old manor looked so nice and pretty and lived in when his was so plain and sad. It had him wondering if Alfred would let him paint the walls in their manor.

Maybe a little color would bring a little life to the place that Bruce called home.

They hurried down a hallway until the teenager barged into a bedroom door and threw a finger at another teenage boy, this one Bruce assumed was named Tim.

“You! I need your brain!” The older teenager shouted. “I screwed up.”

“Jason? What did you do now?” Tim asked and Bruce watched as the teenager climbed out of a large fluffy chair and set his laptop to the side when he let out a loud gasp as his eyes landed on Bruce. “Is that Bruce?” He squeaked out.

“Bruce?” Jason said before he looked down at the little boy at his side. “Bruce!”

Bruce frowned and nodded his head. “Bruce Wayne. Do-do you know me?” He asked quietly, eyeing the two teenage boys suspiciously. Tim gave him a kind smile. “In a way,” he said softly. “We know you when you’re a lot older.” He looked up at Jason and frowned. “Wanna tell me how you kidnapped a–how old are you Bruce?”

“Eight,” he said, playing with his fingers nervously as he watched both of the boys’ faces pale.

“H-how are your parents?” Jason asked, his voice nervous and slightly high-pitched.

“Dead,” Bruce said simply, still not understanding what was happening. He was starting to wonder if he would ever understand what was going on.

“I see,” Tim said before he looked up at Jason. “Why was the portal set to that time, Jason?”

Jason blanched, getting even paler. Bruce was genuinely starting to worry that the teenager was going to keel over soon. “You know how people constantly debate about whether it would be morally wrong to go back in time and kill baby Hitler?”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“I was going to do the same to baby Joker,” he said slowly and Tim slapped his hand against his head. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s fine! I didn’t do it, Bruce came through the portal before I was able to go through. I went to grab my helmet and when I came back he was there and the portal closed.”

“How did you even get the portal open in the first place?” Tim demanded, throwing his arms out. Bruce flinched slightly at the raised voice and the teenager cast him an apologetic smile.

“I may have distracted Dad so he left it unattended while he was doing maintenance on it and used that as the opportunity to key in the coordinates. I figured I’d go in, get the job done, Dad would notice eventually that I was gone and he’d come and find me and bring me back!”

“So you were just going to casually change the timeline and think everything would be okay?” Tim asked, now pinching the bridge of his nose. Bruce looked between the two teenagers as they started arguing with one another and let out a sigh. They weren’t going to be of any help for him. He spun on his heel and marched out of the room. He needed to find a competent adult.

Someone who could actually help him get back home before he gave Alfred a heart attack. Sure Alfred wasn’t his father and he never would replace Bruce’s father. But he was nice, and he tucked Bruce in at night and kissed his forehead. And he made Bruce hot chocolate when he had nightmares and he held Bruce’s hand when Alfred was dusting just so that Bruce wouldn’t feel alone. He wasn’t Bruce’s father but he loved him just as much and he was all Bruce had. He had to get back home.

He marched down the halls, taking in more pictures and paintings that covered the walls. It felt so homey and safe here, unlike anything Bruce had seen. He didn’t know who owned the manor now but they had truly made it feel like a home and Bruce found himself almost jealous.

Bruce turned the corner and made his way to the purple sitting room and stopped when he found a young man hanging by his knees from the chandelier.

“Hi Baby Bat!” The man called, waving his hand at Bruce. The eight-year-old frowned and looked at him.

“Why did you call me that? I hate bats,” he said, screwing his nose up in disgust. The man let out a laugh before he carefully flipped from the chandelier and looked down at Bruce. He tilted his head to the side for a moment before he froze. He looked at Bruce for a moment before he turned his head to look at the large painting that hung over the fireplace. Bruce followed his gaze to find the family portrait from his world still hanging there. It was a portrait of Bruce sitting on his mother’s lap with Father standing behind her with his hand on Mother’s shoulder.

The man looked back at Bruce and let out a breath. “Bruce?”

“Yes, do you know me? Jason and Tim knew me too but then they started fighting because Jason wanted to kill someone named Joker and so I left. I just want to go home,” Bruce rushed out, staring up at Dick with big, wide eyes, his heart still racing in his chest. Everything here was so strange and different and his picture was on the wall and these guys all knew him but no one was explaining anything to him.

The man let out an incredulous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “That sounds about right for Jason and Tim,” he said before he held his hand out. “Come on, we can find my dad and he can fix this.”

“Jason and Tim didn’t want their dad to know,” Bruce said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “I don’t want them to get in trouble. I just want to go home, Alfred is going to be worried if he can’t find me and we had a fight. I yelled at him,” he said.

“And do not worry, Master Bruce, I forgave you as soon as you did,” a familiar voice said and Bruce spun on his heel to stare up at his butler. Or at least, he thought he was the butler. Alfred was so much older than Bruce last saw him. His hair was completely gone and his face bore deep wrinkles but a small smile still played on his lips. Bruce called it his secret smile because it always meant that he knew something Bruce didn’t.

“Alfred?” He gasped out and the old butler nodded his head.

“Yes, Master Bruce,” he said before opening his arms just as Bruce collided with his waist, wrapping his arms around him tight. “I see you ran into Master Dick,” he said, rubbing Bruce’s back softly.

“He said he would help me get home. He said his Dad would help. I just wanna go home.”

Alfred kneeled down in front of him. “We will send you home shortly, Master Bruce. But, if I recall correctly, we had an argument because you said you would never have a family again. Is that correct?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. Beside him, Dick let out a muffled squeak.

Bruce nodded. “I-I know but I was wrong. You’re my family and I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his eyes welled up in tears. Alfred wiped a gloved thumb along Bruce’s cheek, drying up the single tear that had streamed down carefully.

“And you never will. But, I believe it is nearly dinner time and I believe that you will be very happy to see what will await us. Now, take Master Dick’s hand and he will lead you to the dining room. I will bring in supper shortly,”

Bruce nodded and took Dick’s hand who let out a sweet coo. He swept Bruce up into his arms and settled him on his waist as Alfred made his way back to the kitchens.

“I don’t understand,” Bruce said with a sniff, looping his arms around Dick’s shoulders. “Why is Alfred here? Why is my painting here?”

Dick gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry kiddo, my dads are going to explain everything to you soon. I think you’re going to be really happy when you see,” he said softly just as two sets of footsteps pounded through the hall and Tim and Jason turned the corner, harried looks on their faces.

“Dick! Have you seen-”

The words died on Jason’s lips as Dick turned around, Bruce still in his arms as he gave the two teenagers a look of complete annoyance. “Alfred said supper is almost ready. We should get going,” he said simply as he started towards the dining room. Tim and Jason let out soft whimpers as they followed behind, heads bowed in shame.

Dick pushed open the doors to the dining room and grinned.

“Hey everyone! We have a guest for dinner,” he said as Bruce looked around in shock. The large table was the same as the one in his manor, but this one was full of people. Sitting on one side were two boys and a girl. One boy, a teenager was staring at him in surprise, his jaw practically on the floor. Beside him was a teenage girl who was beaming at them, her eyes bright and happy. And the last was a boy who looked like he was Bruce’s twin, he wondered if this was the boy that Jason called Demon Brat and that Dick called Baby Bat. They looked practically identical except for their skin tones and eye color. He stared at Bruce like he was a ghost.

On the end of the table sat two adults who were both staring at Bruce in surprise. One man was tall and thin with salt and pepper hair and pretty blue eyes. He was pretty and something in Bruce’s stomach fluttered when he looked at him. And next to him was Bruce’s dad.

But– but not? He didn’t look exactly like Bruce’s father but the resemblance was close. It was the same black hair and blue eyes as Thomas Wayne but the smile was Martha’s and he was smiling at Bruce the same way Mother once smiled at him.

“And who do we have here?” The pretty man with salt and pepper hair asked.

“I-I’m Bruce. I fell through a portal and I just wanna go home,” he stammered out, still staring at the two men in absolute wonder.

“It was Jason! Jason did it and he tried to make me his accomplice!” Tim rushed out before letting out a yelp as Jason punched him in the arm. “Ow!”

“Fuckin’ snitch,” Jason muttered only for the grown-ups to all say “Language” in amused tones.

The man who looked like Bruce’s dad stood up and came towards him as Dick set him on the ground. The man kneeled down in front of Bruce and gave him a soft smile.

“Hi Bruce, my name is Bruce,” he said softly and Bruce swore his heart stopped beating. The older Bruce let out a quiet laugh as he cupped the younger Bruce’s face in his hand. “I know, it’s crazy, huh? But I’m you in about thirty years.”

“R-really?” he whispered, looking around at all the people staring down at him before he looked back at Bruce. “Who’s all this?”

“This is our family,” he said and he gave Bruce a soft smile. “I know, we never thought we’d get another one after Mother and Father died. But we do. We meet Danny and he becomes a pain in our side but for some reason, we fall in love with him and after a bunch of back and forth and running away from each other because we’re both scared about not having a family, we finally get married. And then we have so many kids that we adopt and we love and take care of. And we laugh and play and have so much fun.”

“We get married?” Bruce asked, looking over at the pretty man who was now walking towards them. He held out his hand for Bruce and gave him a small smile.

“I’m Danny,” he said quietly and Bruce gulped as he took his hand.

“Pretty,” he whispered, staring up at Danny with starry eyes. Danny laughed and shook his head.

“You’re the pretty one, B. Always have been,” he said before he gave Bruce a serious look. “Now, I’m going to tell you some really important advice for the future.”

Bruce tilted his head as Older Bruce just gave his husband an amused smile. “What is it?”

Danny grinned. “I am always right. Got it, B? Always.”

Bruce looked back at older Bruce who just laughed. “He is,” he agreed, smiling down at younger Bruce. “Now, how about you get dinner with us and then Danny will take you home? Okay? And just be patient. You’ll meet Danny when you’re sixteen and he’s going to change everything. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said and let Bruce carry him over to a chair right next to Danny as Alfred came out and served dinner.

Dinner went well, Bruce thought. His kids were all funny and very nice. He got to watch as Danny and Older Bruce scolded Jason for trying to change the timeline and for sneaking into Danny’s lab. Danny was a scientist who was studying time travel and the multiverse which was why he had the portal in the attic. Everyone was banned from the attic, including Bruce! Apparently, Danny didn’t trust any of them with his experiments which was so crazy to Bruce but he understood.

And his kids all told Bruce stories about growing up with Bruce and talking about how Bruce was a good dad. They said he made mistakes sometimes but he always, always fixed them and they were all so welcoming. Bruce had felt a warmth in his tummy the entire time he ate with them as Danny and Bruce asked him questions about home even though Bruce knew everything that happened already!

He even gave Little Bruce advice on how to apologize to Alfred and explained that even though Alfred wasn’t their dad he was like a dad to them and that it was okay. He even said that sometimes when he was really sad he called Alfred his dad and promised Bruce that it was okay. That he wasn’t replacing Father by calling Alfred his new dad.

And Older Bruce couldn’t be wrong, could he? He had been alive for so much longer than Little Bruce and he knew him better than anyone. And even older Alfred promised him that it would be okay and that he wouldn’t be freaked out if Bruce called him dad. That he was honored he got to take care of Bruce and be his second dad.

All too soon, it was over though. And Danny was carrying Bruce up to the attic as he said his goodbyes to the family. To his family.

“I don’t wanna go,” Bruce whispered to Danny as they stood in the attic.

Danny gave him a kind smile. “Sure you do,” he said softly. “If you don’t go, then you won’t get to find me and if you don’t find me, we can’t build this family together.”

“But it’s so quiet. I love Alfred, but it’s different it–”

“I know,” Danny whispered, cupping Bruce’s face in his hands. “But think about it this way. For the next eight years, you’re going to grow up, you’re going to get to know Alfred better and you’re going to be friends with so many people and then one day you’re going to meet me and we’ll be instant best friends. In fact, I even kinda annoy you sometimes because I talk so much. But you like it and we go to the skatepark together and go to school together. And then I go off to college and you decide to take a trip around the world to get to understand yourself better. And when you’re twenty-two, you come back to Gotham. And then we go on a few dates and you get scared and run away sometimes or I get scared and run away but we always come back to each other. And at some point you adopt Dick and I come over and you’re really embarrassed because there’s this little boy sleeping on the couch and you tell me “i don’t know if having kids together is too soon, but do you want to raise him with me.” And I laugh because you’re so crazy and but so loving and I kiss you. And we raise Dick together and then we get married,” Danny said and his smile is wide and his eyes are bright and Bruce wants it. He wants it so bad he could cry.

“And then we get Jason and then Tim and Cass and Damian show up and then Duke and our family becomes complete. And we have a family together,” Danny whispers. “But none of that can happen unless you go home. So go home, apologize to Alfred, and I’ll see you soon. Got it?”

Bruce sniffed once but nodded his head in agreement. Danny smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “The portal is ready to go,” he said quietly.

“I’m going to be the best husband ever, I promise,” Bruce told him and Danny let out a soft laugh.

“You are, without a doubt, the best husband in the world,” Danny said before Bruce made his way through the portal and let out a breath as he stood in the attic. He pressed a hand to his cheek and smiled to himself. He was going to have the best family ever. But first, he had to apologize to Alfred and then they could build their family together.

#dpxdc #batpham #batfam #batman comics #Bruce Wayne x Danny Fenton #dis writes #dis dreams

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juvenillia · 5 months

Text

~ habits ~ König x fem!reader [fluff/secret santa]

a/n: @bunnyreaper did organise a secret santa, and I had the big honour to write for @piecesofcain and one of the options I could choose from was König, so ofc I had to! Christmas in Germany can be so freakin beautiful!!! Alright, I hope you like it angel. 🩶

[Also this will be like my slow come back to writing! Things are figured out, and I'm back at working on my stories. Stay tuned chums]

wordcount: 2.4k

》Master Post《

A repeating tapping of a heavy boot. A bobbing knee, which his huge sweaty hand tried to force into halt again. He was used to life-or-death situations. Calculating everything in the back of his head to make it out alive and achieve the desired outcome. Nervous was never a word you would think of when looking at the behemoth of a man König was. Maybe respected or even feared, but definitely not as anxious as he felt right now. He was deployed in Berlin for more than three months now. Working together with the KSK. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Nothing that would leave him sleepless. Still, he didn’t find much sleep for the last three days. Three days ago, was the day when you made the decision to fly over to Germany to visit him.

You had a phone call, rambling about your day when he nearly fell asleep because of the difference in time zones. He loved to stay awake listening to your voice anyway. It quickly became a habit for him. It felt like your voice was stuck in his life forever. Maybe it was simply because he believed his life just really started with the day he met you. Your voice was the needed comfort after a stressful day for him. A comfort that lulled him deeper into a slumber, imagining you would be by his side. Only your recent question brought him back to reality.

“Entschuldige. What were you saying?” [Excuse me] A yawn followed the thick German accent as he rubbed his forehead. His phone rested on his brawn chest.

“Silly.” You laughed while repositioning the laptop in front of you. The screen showed a website with different flight options. “I asked you, if you’d like me to come over for your days off.” It was a genuine question, eventually a bit shyer than the first time you asked him.

Suddenly, he was broad awake. Sitting up in his bed, the phone slid off his chest. He barely could catch it before it would’ve fallen to the floor. “Let me buy you the ticket.” All exhaustion in his voice was replaced with determination.

“Kö…”

“Not negotiable, Engel.” [angel] No sooner said than done, the plane tickets were bought.

A decision that led him to the Berlin airport, waiting for your arrival. A single rose resting on the seat next to him. Why was he so nervous when a good friend came over? Simple: Because you were already so much more to him. The two of you often spent the holidays together, when his job allowed it of course. Just two good friends sharing some quality time, but this time felt different. König had made up his mind some time ago. A night when he was sure not to see the rising sun again, and everything that clung to his mind was your smile. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of returning to you. He knew back then that he was screwed, too scared to risk the friendship you shared. He wanted to keep everything normal between both of you. Not sure how he’d manage, but he would try his best.

Just a few more minutes passed and then you walked along the corridor, wearing the mesmerizing smile he loved so much. Suitcase in one of your hands and the other already reaching out to him, while he pulled you in a tight hug. Bending down to embrace you fully, while you let go of your suitcase to do the same. He inhaled your scent as he buried his masked face into your hair. It was like all the anxiety had left his body. “Du hast mir echt gefehlt.”

“König.” You laughed while pulling away, searching for his crystal blue eyes. Eventually you found his habit of switching back to his mother tongue cute, even if you often had troubles understanding him.

“Sorry.” He squeezed your shoulders before redrawing his hand to massage his nape. “I’ve missed you… a lot." You could notice the smile, even when half of his face was covered by a black cotton mask he wore often when both of you were out. Before you could say something else, he held the flower up in front of you for you to take. No words, just a small gesture while he averted his eyes from yours.

“There was no need to.” You took the rose out of his hand, your fingers brushing amongst his for the blink of an eye. “Thank you.” Your tone became a bit shyer, while your cheeks were stained in a slight rose. Something he missed as the floor became so much more interesting. There was never a need to be honest, but he still managed to give you little things. Just little gifts to show how much he cared.

Without hesitation he took your suitcase and held out his arm for you to take. A polite gesture, something that became a habit whenever you two walked somewhere. He would lead you to wherever needed while you wrapped your hand around his beefy upper arm. He always needed to slow his steps to match your pace. This time he led you to his car. Holding the passenger door open for you to take your seat. Just then he stored your luggage in the trunk and took his own seat.

“Where are you taking me?” It took you some time before you asked him. Your eyes taking in the different views of Berlin’s streets. It was your first time being here, so literally everything seemed to catch your interest. König made sure to take a longer route to your place of destination. Driving past the Tempelhofer Feld which looked so out of place. Nothing but huge snowy fields in the middle of the city. Making sure to take an extra turn in the roundabout by the Siegessäule. Leading you all the way back to Alexanderplatz. The whole city was covered in adorable lights, little Christmas Trees and lanterns. But in his opinion none of their lights could compete with the shining in your eyes. He told you more or less stupid facts about the places you drove past till he parked the car in one of the underground garages near the huge shopping center called Alexa, which was completely flooded in decorations and humans running the last errands for the holidays.

A shopping center you tried to fight your way out. It was way too crowded, and made you feel kind of anxious. Your hand clinging tight onto his upper arm while he led you through the mass of people. To his advantage he could overlook most of the customers around. He slid his arm around your shoulder to keep you closer to him. Granting you a feeling of safety. “Just a little while longer, mein Engel, just a little bit,” he said calmly, hoping his voice and touch could bring you the same comfort as you brought him all the time, while leading you out of the center and onto a bigger place. The space itself was covered in little wooden booths where you could buy many different kinds of food, drinks or little presents. It was one of the various Christmas markets which are dispersed all over the city.

Even if you could easily breath and most people granted you some space for yourself out here, you were still tugged into his side. Not daring to let go, until you stood in front of a huge field of ice. It was formed like a ring, and in the middle was a water fontaine - the Neptunbrunnen - decorated in some cozy lights. The air was filled with laughter and screams by children sliding over the icey floor. “Engel, you mentioned some time ago that you’d like to go ice skating.” He patted your head slightly, while adjusting the cotton cap you wore. “And how nobody would join..so I thought…”

Without waiting for him to finish and without hesitation you wrapped your arms around him. “Kö, I love you.”

He also wrapped his arms around you, while his heart felt heavy, still, you could feel the vibrations of his chest as some chuckles left his throat. He had heard those words millions of times. Something that was such a routine, while he knew how you meant it, he would love to hear it with different intentions. “Ich hab dich auch lieb.” [I love you too.(used for friends)]

Within the next twenty minutes you were on the ice, skates laced onto your feet while holding König’s hands to help stabilize himself. He may be an ace when it comes to rescuing hostages and invading enemy terrain, but standing on the thin metal beneath his huge feet, it was difficult for him. But you couldn’t help it and find it really adorable. Little children were faster on the ice than him. But you didn’t mind. Any minute you spent with him was just pure entertainment. After some time, when he finally grew more confident on the skates, he told you to take some rounds on your own. Just so you could fully enjoy it, while he made little steps to even fulfil one round on the rink.

The next thing you could remember was a bit blurry. The white floor stained red. You just assumed that he fell. As someone explained later to you, there were some careless kids, they didn’t take notice of the nearly two meter man lying on the cold floor. Unfortunately they literally ran over him, the skid running a deep wound through his jacket and into the flesh of his arm. You were freaking out, yelling at the kids while there were already two people helping him up and taking care of him, calling an ambulance. Better safe than sorry, they told him as he declined the offer. It really wasn’t a big deal for König, but for you.

The whole thing led to the two of you sitting in the emergency room, where a nurse took care of the injury. Just a few stitches and everything was fine. Well, not for you. As you walked into the hotel room he booked for you, you still kept ranting about those brats that hurt him. That hurt your König. He couldn’t do anything but laugh about your rambling. “You’re adorable like that.” The words slipped faster out of his mouth than he could’ve blinked. Sitting at the edge of your bed, mask long forgotten and staring once more at the floor. There weren't many things that would make the Austrian nervous, but knowing to say something inappropriate for the sake of your friendship indeed did make him nervous. Maybe even more as you didn’t answer the man now searching for your eyes. You stood in front of him, even in this position you barely were on eye level due to his height.

His eyes kept scanning your face, every twitching of your brows or blinking of your eyes. He observed it before he exhaled deeply. Took your hands in his to pull you a bit closer. You let him do so, still not saying anything. Too curious what was happening in his head.

“Ich liebe dich.” He looked directly in your eyes while keeping a stern face. Unsure of what he was doing.

You just nodded while turning your head away now. “Yeah… love you too.” It was the usual answer, something so casual for you to say. An old habit.

“Nein, mein Engel.” [No, my angel.] He shook his head and brushed his thumbs over your knuckles, before pulling them up to his mouth to place a slight kiss onto them. “Hab dich lieb and Ich liebe dich, those are two different things." His eyes held a bit of fear, but also so much adoration as his hands couldn’t let go of yours.

His words made something click inside your head. This wasn’t like the empty phrase he used so often. Not like the words you used to say. It wasn’t by habit. It was a confession, something you could have missed easily, if it wasn't for him to clarify it right here. Besides all the promises he made to himself, to keep it on the casual and friendly bases you had, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He wanted to be honest with you. He never wanted to lie to you. Those words often died on his tongue before, but not this time.

Your lips parted while one of his hands reached out to cup your cheek and your throat ran dry. “You mean it?” It was nearly pathetic asking for reassurance, but he got it. Pulling you once more closer to him, his nose touched yours now. Your noses brushing amongst each other as he slowly nodded. So you took the initiative and closed the last gap separating both of you. Placing your lips gently onto his while closing your eyes. His hands let go of yours, to take hold onto your waist while pulling you impossible closer. You nearly tripped over, but your hands found his shoulders to gain a bit of stability while the kiss grew deeper. Neither of you wanted to let go first, but the air escaping your lungs let you pull away sooner or later.

With a raising and falling chest you looked into each other's eyes and a smile tugged at his lips. “This becoming our new habit?” you teased him with the same genuine smile.

“Ich hoffe doch.” [I hope so] With those words he threw himself onto his back, pulling you immediately on top of him and wrapping his arms around your figure, listening to your little giggles in doing so.

“Kö, your wound!” You scolded him, but he didn't care, not when he finally could fall asleep the way he always wanted to. You tugged onto his chest, beefy arms keeping you close to him while you could listen to his heartbeat, which slowed more and more after the confession.

The whole situation led you to spending most of the days of this year’s holidays in the cozy hotel room, taking good care of the wound that would now become a scar. An addition to the ones he already had, but this one would always hold a special meaning to him. Reminding him on the day you became fully his.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x you #konig cod #konig call of duty #secret santa #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #kortac #könig fluff

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