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luveurmilk · 2 years

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Tsunami.

The tsunami was now receding, leaving irreparable destruction and debris all within a matter of minutes.

or; Will Byers confesses to Mike Wheeler his last night in Hawkins.

Words: 3.5K

WARNING! A section of this short-fic contains two homophobic slurs. The section is marked with a series of asterisks like this (********) in the beginning and the end of the short section. Please skip if necessary, a description will be placed in the author notes at the end of what happens.

Thank you for reading, and please be kind. It is my first fic! :)

Will feels that he should be embarrassed or guilty, but he wasn’t. Infact, his heart was soaring as he buried his face into Mike’s pillow. His best friend was kind enough to lend him his bed to nurse a headache that had suddenly come about and the rest of the gang followed; only talking in quiet voices out of respect. On the other hand, his heart ached. A deep ache because this was their last night together. In the morning, Will was leaving Hawkins to get away from all the horrors the town brought to him. His mom, Jonathan, El, and himself were heading out west where the weather is warm and there isn’t a threat of a demogorgan, a mind flayer, or the Upside Down. Or so they hoped.

Will was brought out of his thoughts by a disgruntled Lucas as he slapped the radio, fiddled with the antenna, and then grumbled lowly about how crappy the signal in Mike’s room was as the static sounded louder than the actual music playing. Just as quick as the static appeared, it was gone again, and the mood returned to its general happiness. “Apology accepted.” Mike huffed as his eyes shifted back to the magazine he was currently invested in. The cover was some rock band that Will had never heard of, but the faces matched the poster hanging up in his best friend's room and the cover of several cassette tapes scattered across his nightstand.

“I think we’ve bugged Will enough. We should let him get some rest.” Max said as she and El stood to their feet together, said goodnight, and left the room. Dustin and Lucas agreed and followed suit not too long after. Will then sat up and gave a stretch as he figured him and Mike should head to the basement anyways where they all had sleeping bags set up just like old times. “We can stay here a little longer.. You know, until your headache goes away.” Mike said quietly and it made the shorter boy’s pulse jump because it had been ages since it was just the two of them. How could he ever pass up an offer like that considering this will be the last time he sees him for months, possibly longer. “O-Okay, yeah. That’s fine.” He pulled his legs up and got situated once again and they fell into a comfortable silence that was occasionally interrupted by the turning of a page from Mike’s magazine.

Will’s brown eyes took in the multiple drawings of his scattered along the walls of his friend’s room and he was able to pinpoint each time he had drawn them and given them to Mike with such excitement. He loved the way his eyes lit up and the compliments strung on for days after it was put on its permanent spot on the wall in this room or in the basement. It only made him think of the drawings that Mike will never get to see; drawings that were locked away in a moving van sitting outside of the Wheeler house at this very moment. A pang of sadness rushes through him and fills every crevice in his body as he recalls said art pieces that were filled with silent love confessions to his best friend. Will had very heavily considered giving him one the morning he left and that would be it. Mike would know how he felt and he wouldn't be around to listen to the disgusting things he would say about him to other people nor would he be able to watch their years of friendship crumble to the ground within a few seconds. He could hand the painting over through his open car window just before his mother put her foot to the gas. He had it all planned out, and yet there was this stirring feeling in his gut that it would fail miserably because Mike was never good with context clues or reading between the lines.

So, Will settled for this. He settled with the faint smell of Mike’s cologne filling his nose making his heart jittery and the subtle brushing of their knees from where they sat sending waves of goosebumps throughout his frame. It wasn’t like he wasn't used to this, anyways.

Suddenly, Mike gave a grunt and slammed the magazine shut, crumpling its pages as he carelessly tossed it aside on his bed. “This– All of this fucking sucks,” was all he said as his chin landed in the palm of his own hand and eyes focused on the desk before them. Will could only give a nod in agreement because, well, it did suck . Everything leading up to this moment sucked, and Will wishes he could turn back time and somehow change it all. A warm hand landed on his knee that burned and he swore his heart skipped a beat when it gave a subtle squeeze. He could feel his brain short circuiting and a flush forming on his cheeks. Damn these teenage hormones. “Promise me that we won’t lose contact.. Promise me that you’ll always write to me or call me?” Mike was looking at him now with such soft eyes and a furrowed brow, raw emotions that Will swore was only saved for him. He gathered himself and nodded quickly before placing his hand down onto Mike’s and squeezing. It was a selfish act, really, but it was enough to ease whatever panic that was brewing inside of Mike’s mind. “Of course I’ll write to you. You’re my best friend, and I'm not going to give that up anytime soon.” The grin that spread across the raven haired boys' features eased them both and Will was now hyper aware that their hands were still touching.

The brunette gave another soft squeeze and pulled his hand away and noted how Mike let his touch linger a minute longer before he was also pulling away. “Just think of all the fun things you’re going to be able to do in California. From what Max has said it sounds so much better than Hawkins.” Will sighed and shook his head, giving a frayed smile. “Yeah, I guess, but it’s not going to be fun without the rest of the party there. I mean, sure, El and I will have each other, but it’ll be entirely different.” Mike turned his focus to Will again and the latter noted how his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth. A little habit Mike did when he was thinking too hard about something. “Hawkins won’t be the same without you, and.. And I’m going to miss you very much.”

Will was sure hell froze over because Mike never expressed his feelings out in the open like this. He’s always closed off and he chooses to bottle it up until something tips him off and it all comes barreling out at someone or something. “ Hotheaded, ” Nancy had once said. He was too afraid to meet his gaze because he knew the moment he did words of adoration and years long of pining would come rushing out like a tsunami towards a shoreline. Fast, messy, and destroying everything in its path that took years to build. Every nerve was screaming at him, “ Tell him! Tell him now how you feel!”

“Mike.. Mike, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you and I understand if you hate everything about me after it, but I can’t hold it in any longer.” His voice shook and his bottom lip wobbled as hot tears threatened to fall from fear and wishful thinking. God, his head ached, but he pushed it off as his blood pressure rising from the panic and stress of confessing bubbling up inside of him. Mike opened his mouth to say something, probably to protest how nothing could make him hate Will, but he shushed him. “Wait until I'm finished, please. If I don't say anything now, I may never be able to.”

With a deep, bated breath Will released what he and his heart had been concealing all these years. Thoughts and feelings that had been under such lock and key not even God himself could pry open. “I’m gay, Mike. I’m gay and I like you.. No, I love you. I love you more than a best friend. I love you the way Jonathan loves Nancy or the way mom loves Hopper. You make me feel happy and you make me feel like I’m not a mistake. When I'm with you I have a sense of belonging and you’re the only thing that kept me alive when I was alone and scared in the Upside Down. I knew that.. I knew that if I could just get back to you I would be okay. And there were these moments where.. where I could hear you talking and they were the moments I just wanted to give up but you.. You kept me going.” There it was, the tsunami, barreling, flooding, and tearing down the walls his heart has built for years. With it came hot, fat tears that burned his eyes and stung his skin as they fell. This was his most vulnerable state, he thinks. He was now raw and out in the open and he just couldn't stop the multitude of confessions pouring from his mouth. His chest screamed for air but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He needed to tell Mike everything all at once and as fast as he could.

Will’s chest finally heaved as he sucked in a wet breath, tears stained his face and he felt like years of oppressed relief was finally here. “You are my safe space and you understand me the most and I am so in love with you everything within me aches.”

The silence after was terrifying. It was long and Will felt his heart racing, but he couldn't look at Mike. His hands wrung themselves as anxiety now creeped in. The high that coaxed him through his confession was now fizzling out and his brain was catching up to his heart as he realized what he had just done. The tsunami was now receding, leaving irreparable destruction and debris all within a matter of minutes.

********

Will braced himself and turned his head to look at Mike and he was met with a face of pure disgust, and eyes that were a comfort to him were filled with an indescribable amount of hate. “Disgusting. You’re disgusting, Will.” Mike spat as he stood up from his bed to face him and he seemed to be seething. For once in his life, Will was terrified of Mike Wheeler. “You’re not fucking normal, Will. You’re a fucking fairy. I tried to ignore what everyone said about you but it’s true. You’re a fag !” Will could feel his body trembling and every nerve he had seemed to scream at him to run, to save him from whatever words that were going to come next, but he was frozen. It even felt like the room was now colder from the mood shift.

“Mike.. Mike, you don't mean that. You don’t!” He cried as he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t happening. That this was some sick dream his mind was coming up with because he swore he could hear someone screaming at him that wasn’t Mike. “I do! I mean every word. You, Will Byers, are fucking fairy and I want nothing to do with you!” Mike was closing in on him now, stalking towards him like a predator does its prey right before going in for the kill, and all Will could do was back up on the bed.

********

“Mike, please – You’re my–” He stopped. As his ‘best friend’ drew closer, his face seemed morphed and his eyes were off. “You’re not Mike.” And just like that the scene around him was changing into a place so familiar and a place that still brought nightmares to him to this day. He was still in the Wheeler house, but it wasn’t the Wheeler house. The walls were covered in thick vines and the whole place was cold, dark, and horrifying. He was in the Upside Down again. And what Will thought was Mike morphed and changed into a man that seemed to be completely made up of vines that were scattered across the Upside Down.

“Watching you suffer is such a pity when I can make it all go away.” The man said and Will finally found the courage to bolt. He sprang from the bed and headed to the basement; screaming for Mike, his mom, Jonathan, anyone. The basement was empty, looking as it did all those years ago when he scoured the Upside Down in an attempt to get home, and covered in sickening vines. Will felt like a small child all over again. He let out a frustrated scream and slammed his hand against the wall, against the vines, that recoiled and let out a quiet shriek. In a quick second, he felt his body seize up and he was being pushed back against a pole as the scenery around him changed for the third time. The basement melted into a place unknown that looked like broken construction and clocks. Clocks were everywhere. Some broken and some in perfect condition. The sky was red and was brewing an ugly, unforgiving storm that was slowly covering the rest of the Upside Down with flashes of angry lighting and loud rumbles of thunder that shook his insides.

Will struggled against the thick vinery winding around his body and pinning him to the pole behind him. “Let me go!” He wheezed and flailed, fighting a losing battle as the greenery squeezed him tighter. The unknown man was walking towards him until they were face to face and the younger boy was able to see just how ugly this thing was. “You would be better off here, with me.” The man says when he was close enough. “It’s time for you to join me, Will.” The man, the creature, said. Will called out for Mike again in a heavy sob as the vines curl around his neck like a vice and restrict his airflow. “He can’t help you, Will. Do you really think he’ll ever feel the same way about you? You’re eaten up with jealousy, aren't you? You hate Eleven. You hate that she has the potential to steal Mike away from you. You hate that you’re not like your friends and that keeps you awake at night. It eats at you and sometimes you wish you died here those years ago. Don’t you, Will? ”

He lets out another sob, heavy with hurt and pain as he realizes that this was it. He was going to die here and some selfish part of him didn’t care because maybe if he caved and gave in; the threat of the Upside Down would go away forever and his friends and family could move on and live in peace. It was like the thing before him could read his thoughts and the faintest, satisfied huff sounded from his nasal holes. He lifted his hand above Will’s head and closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Whatever he was doing caused pain to erupt through his frame and he whimpered out, but gave up on struggling long ago. He just didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

“Will!” Someone called out. “Will, please!” The voice cried with such emotion and intensity it gave Will the strength to open his eyes. A gate was open and he was watching himself float in Mike’s bedroom with the entire household surrounding him, but what stood out to him was a sobbing and distraught Mike that was gripping his leg. “Will, come back to us, please. I can’t.. I can't be without you again, please.” His words were mixed with sharp, ragged breaths and hiccups as his body tried to regulate everything that was happening and every emotion he was feeling. He’s lying. The man’s voice rang out through his head. He’s just telling you what you want to hear. “Please don’t leave me alone again. Will, I love you. I’ve always loved you and I need you here with me! Please come back to me, to us!”

This was enough to have Will struggling just enough that his hand broke free from the vines and he ripped one, nails digging into the slimy hive mind creature that caused just enough shock to have them loosen immediately. He fell to the ground with weak limbs and dashed as fast as she could towards the gate that seemed to be closing. He closed his eyes and jumped and prayed that he made it before it sealed. The next thing he felt was warmth and several frazzled voices swarming him, and hands all over him. Then the pain hit, his body felt like he had done hours of exercise and every muscle was screaming at him with every move he made. His vision was blurry but he was able to make out the face above his, he would know that face and touch even on his deathbed. “Mike.” He rasped and a hand was in his hair and then cupping his cheek as an ugly sobs left him. “I'm here. I'm right here. I have you.” The raven haired boy assured him and Will let himself relax as he weakly clung to his best friend's sweatshirt. “I love you so much.” Was all the brunette got out before everything faded to black as his body finally succumbed to all the stress it was just put through.

The next time Will woke up it was morning. He could tell because sunlight was pouring into the room he was in, illuminating the walls and floor. He blinked his eyes a few times and looked around. Everyone was packed into Mike’s bedroom, and speaking of Mike; the boy was wrapped around him in a grip so tight he didn't know how he was still breathing. “Will, honey?” His mom said loudly, unable to conceal the happiness in her voice and slowly everyone else woke up as well to only surround him in a hug. “We thought we lost you!” El exclaimed and hugged him tighter. “I checked. You were sleeping.” She smiled softly as she pulled away, and Will was confused because there was still a grip around him. His head turned and it was Mike, who looked visibly tired even as he was sleeping. His face was puffy and cheeks were stained with tear tracks. “He did not sleep. Kept watch.” El said before moving aside and letting everyone else have a turn in hugging him. He then explained what happened to him and where he went, but left out some details to save face and to not hurt El’s feelings. “So, this thing is from the Upside Down, can read minds, and possess people from the Upside Down?” Dustin asked as his face blanched when Will nodded. “He said he wanted to put me out of my suffering and made sure to hit every insecurity I had.” He added on and swallowed thickly. “He can make you see things that aren’t there. He had a hold of me before I even knew.”

Will thought he saw a flash of realization fill El’s visage for a brief second but she gave a subtle shake of her head to cancel out her own thought. “Mrs. Wheeler passed out when she saw you.” Lucas said quietly, “Your mom explained to her and Mr. Wheeler everything that had happened with us, you, and the Upside Down. I don’t think they’re believing it yet, but your mom is trying.” Will could understand that. If someone came to me and told me about other worldly monsters and an alternate dimension; I’d have a hard time believing it too.” They all shared a chuckle and Max punched his arm, lovingly, but still a punch. “Don’t do that again, Byers.” She warned before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He willingly hugged her back and gave a reassuring squeeze that maybe, just maybe, whatever evil this was would be that last. “I’m going to check on the others. Do you guys want to come?” She said and gave Will a knowing grin before ushering everyone out of the room.

Now, it was just him and Mike, again. His aching body laid down beside his best friend and took in his sleeping features before raising a shaky hand and running it through the mess of raven curls atop of his head. I love you. I’ve always loved you! Kept running laps in his mind. Was Mike just saying that? Was the tendriled man right? It seemed like the creature knew every button to press and every heavy burden to stirr up to make him weak and fragile, but it had been Mike again who pulled him from the depths of the Upside Down.

An arm was tightening around his waist and he was pulled into the warm embrace of Mike; his heart. WIll curled right in and the tight squeeze was a signal that they would talk about this later, but for now..

For now, Will’s heart was soaring as he buried his face into Mike’s chest with the thought of leaving Hawkins far behind.

A/N: In the marked section, Will had been taken over by Vecna without realizing it. After Will confessed, the fake Mike said not nice things to him, making his worst fear come to life that Mike hates him. It's based off the scene in Vol. 2 where Max and Lucas are in the Creel house and Max had been possessed without knowing.

#byler fanfic #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler x will byers #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #jane hopper #angst with small comfort #will byers protection squad #this is my first fic and post #i dont know how tags work #joyce byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #stranger things s4 #eleven #im very new to tumblr

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jaylikesrainbowtigers · 10 months

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Tag game, Stranger things edition

@hargrove-mayfields tagged me so you know I have to do this. Thank you so much!!

Ride or die ship: Hollogrove. Heather and Billy are my bread and butter. Like so much of my stranger things content is them. I just love them healing and growing together.

Most annoying ship: St*ncy. I just hate it. What Nancy did to Steve was kind of something you can’t return from. I have seen the effects of a similar relationship on one of my irl besties and I would never wish it on anyone. I would cry if that ship happened in S5.

3. Second favourite ship: Either Elumax (platonic Elucas) or Eddie x Chrissy x Steve x Jonathan (with Jonathan, Eddie and Steve dating Argyle and Chrissy dating Robin. If someone has a ship name please suggest in the comments). I adore these ships as the developed relationships there are just *chef’s kiss* but the people who haven’t met? Just so much cute potential for love!

4. Favourite platonic dynamic: Stobin is my platonic tea. I adore Steve and Robin and believe whole heartedly that they are disabled besties. Platonic soulmates.

5. Underrated ship: Hollogrove obviously but Cunningway, Cheerscoops, Photocheer, Stargyle, and Murrlexi. Those ships are also so top tier but underrated. There are so many more.

6. Overrated ship: M*leven. Again I hate it. It is so teenage abuse romanticized. And too many people think that it is healthy or OTP. To be honest, Mike is a bit of an ick for me anyway.

7. One thing to change in canon: Destroy any hints or hopes of St*ncy or M*leven or any abusive relationship. Stop the characters putting up with it, to the extent that it is romanticized. Abuse is not good or something to be idealized. And actually include canon disabilities please.

8. One thing canon did right: Making Robin a lesbian and allowing Max and Eleven to have a strong friendship which is not focused on the boys. That trope is so overused so I am glad it was not used.

9. A thing I am proud of creating for the fandom: I am really proud of my Hollogrove stuff because there is so little content for my babies. But some of my work for @disabledbillyandsteveweek is also something I am super proud of and I can’t wait to show people.

10. A character who is perfect to me: Heather Holloway is my queen. Like she is so sweet and caring but obviously has so much depth potential. The Duffers really made a mistake not giving her more screen time. They could have done so much.

11. Most relatable character and why: Robin is the most relatable character for me. Her social awkwardness and passion for certain topics is really relatable to me. We are both band kids, lesbians and we even look fairly alike!

12. Character I hate most and why: Karen. Moral trash who willing flirted and tried to seduce a child her daughters age. She also put down other teenagers simply because she was being petty??? Like she is the adult in this situation. Even though she backed out of meeting Billy, the fact that she ever flirted with him is creepy. If you reversed the genders, the fandom would be freaking out and be like it’s so creepy!! It’s still the same situation?? Of course, it is creepy. Neil Hargrove is a close second.

13. Something I have learned from the fandom: To be more confident in sharing my opinions and work. Before I met a lovely group of people in the fandom I was so scared of being attacked for my preferences in the fandom but they showed me that despite us all not shipping or producing the same thing, we can all still support and respect each other. It really helped my social anxiety around sharing stuff, particularly for this fandom, online.

14. Three tags I seek out on ao3: I don’t actually read much stranger things on ao3 but Hollogrove, Hellcheer, and fantasy au’s are probably my top three for the fandom. I really want to see more fantasy au’s that aren’t just werewolves or vampires. I might actually write one now.

15: A song I strongly associate with otp and/or my favourite character: Pretty Brown Eyes by Cody Simpson for Hollogrove for a YouTube edit I saw. Love that song for them. Love Story by Taylor Swift is a close second.

I’m tagging @stranger-themes-blog, @carito-dorito , @mrsblackruby , @iloveyoubillyhargrove. Please don’t feel obligated to do this but I thought that I would share this with other stranger things fans.

#tag game #stranger things #stranger things tag game #not content

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valenhell · 3 years

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From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites.

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict. - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no.

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending.

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic.

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet.

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will.

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes.

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers.

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings.

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it.

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not.

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised.

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute.

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable.

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it.

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay.

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it.

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

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namjoonswifey99 · 3 years

Text

What The Heart Wants Pt.6

Billy Hargrove X Reader

Warnings : Cursing , Bullying , Harassment , Billy being Billy

Author Note: Hope You Enjoy This Chapter and I apologize this was supposed to be out but ive going though a rough patch with my family so i hope you understand.

Billy walked over to Y/N and Max; he couldn't help but overhear Susan talking to the police.

“ Sir please i just want my little girl I don't do anything else but her.” Susan says trying to calm her breathing from crying so much

“ Ma'am, your daughter stated she wants to go with her step brother and his girlfriend. We are gonna have to take you downtown for questioning. This isn't the first time Mrs.Hargrove.” Officer Powell asked why detaining her.

Susan started to protest but saw that was Max was looking at her and stopped and held her head down and started walking with the officer.

“ I'm so sorry you guys had to see that, that wasn't what I was going for, I just wanted to get our stuff so we can move in.” Billy says looking sad he never wanted Max or Y/N to see that side again. Billy then looks towards Will who was just wide eyed.

“ Hey Will right i'm sorry you had to see that I truly didn't mean for you to see that.” Billy says with an apologetic look. Will looks up at Billy, surprised by the story Jonathan and Max told him. He doesn't seem so bad hopefully they can be friends

“

“ It's okay Billy i understand”. Will says, accepting his apology.

Y/N then runs up and pulls Billy into a hug and just embraces him Y/N was so proud of Billy he finally stood up against his father. “ im super proud of you baby” Y/N says kissing Billy’s cheek

Hopper looked at the two teenagers and smiled. It was rare for guys like Billy. He's honestly happy that he has this chance to make his life right with the right people by his side.

“ Come one let’s get some more stuff out the house and go to Y/N place” Billy says while getting his key from Y/N . “ Yessss so i can more stuff then i intended” Max says while shouting in excitement to bring more of her things. “ Well as long as it fits in the car we'll just get a truck to move it”. Billy says while correcting Max he doesn't want his car to be too crowded. “ You guys don’t need a bed or dressers. My parents got you guys covered with bedding just more clothes and stuff you can fit”. Y/N says while fixing the trunk to make room.

----- 1 Hour Later----

After an hour later they arrived at Y/N house. Her and Billy explained what happened at his fathers house . Y/N and Billy starts to explain what had happened down at his fathers house and how he was gonna move forward to have sole custody of Max and to be filed down as independent.

“ That’s a very good plan Billy and you know you and Max can still for however long you like it’s no problem to us you were already family from the beginning” Y/N mother Angelina says while putting the cookies in the oven.

“ I agree with my wife you can stay however long you like” Y/N father Tremaine says while putting the sodas in the freezer.

“ we definitely appreciate the love and roof you're giving me and max I won’t let you down” Billy says while looking at them.

“ You don’t have to prove anything baby, we love you just the way you are flaws and all “ Y/ N says as she looks at Billy with full love in the eyes.

“ BABY” Both of Y/N parents shouted at the same time.

“ Ummmmm yea as of today me and Billy are together “Y/N says while looking down shyly. To shy look at her parents reaction.

“ Ha I knew it Tre you owe me 40$ bucks” Angelina says happily she knew they was gonna get together

“ Man you guys couldn’t wait till next week I could’ve had extra money” Tre says pulling out the 40 dollars to hand to his wife.

“ You are not mad about us” Billy says confused because growing with a dad like his a relationship between him and Y/N would be frowned upon.

“ never we don’t care as long as you live and respect our daughter that’s all that matters” Tremaine says to Billy while tenderly holding Angelina to him.

Y/N was about to say something when the doorbell rang, she gets up to ask who it was when a familiar voice called out.

“ Y/ N your favorite person in the whole wide world is here “

“ No I’m Y/N favorite you can ask her herself”

“ No Y/N loves me more she makes me more food than any of you”

“ Well Y/N be at my house almost every other day with my sister so I get to see her more than any of you”

Y/N knew right there it was the rest of her miniature best friends.

“ Well all you are wrong Y/N loves me more and I’m living with her” Max says with a smug look on her face as Y/N opens the door.

On her porch stands Lucas , Dustin , Eleven, and Mike with Steve standing behind them.

After Max’s statement chaos was issued.

“ What no way, no fair” Dustin whines in disbelief.

“ Yea what Dustin said , How come max stays” Lucas says while looking offended.

“ Well it’s easier for you doofus . She like me more” Max says sticking her tongue out at the boys.

“ That means we can have all the sleepovers and waffles we want” Eleven says with a bright smile on her face.

“ Okay now listen I love you all the same your all my favorites I can’t just choose one”. Y/N says trying to mediate the situation.

“ What about me guys? I can be as cool as Y/N” Steve said with a cocky grin.

The group just all stared at him.

“ No offense Steve buddy but Y/N waaaaaaayyy more cooler than you by a landslide”. Mike says.

Before Steve can retort, Billy comes to the door to see what’s taking so long and notices Steve and gives him an annoyed look. There’s one thing Billy is a lot of but he doesn’t put his hand on women. He may be an asshole and a bully but he’s no woman beater.

Y/N felt the tension before Steve face gave it away. Before a fight can escalate she steps in.

“ Okay so I got 4 movies picked out then we can go to the bonus room and play some board games and before you even ask Dustin and Lucas yes I did make you guys favorite dessert”. Y/N says while ushering the kids inside the house.

Before Steve can ask why Billy was there Y/N comes back out.

“ Thanks for dropping the kids off for Hopper I’ll call him when it’s time to come get them, '' Y/N says with a kind smile.

“ Uhh yeah no problem anytime” Steve says, stuttering, he wanted to apologize for his actions earlier but with Billy right there he’ll never get the chance.

Y/N turns to leave when she notices Billy still staring down at Steve so she grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him in the house.

The kids were all in the living room trying to decide which movie they’re gonna watch.

“ Baby look at me” Y/N says, grabbing Billy’s face so he’s looking directly at her.

“ baby you’ve changed for the better don’t let what today put you down you know I’m right here by your side every step of the way” Y/N says while looking him in the eye so he can see she really meant what she’s saying.

“ I know baby it’s just I want them to know I’ve changed. I got my second chance at life and to do what is right and I couldn’t have done it with you my sweet angel by my side” Billy says lovingly to Y/N.

The chemistry between Y/N and Billy is unmatched for the simple fact when it was him against the world Y/N was by his side and he will never take that for granted him and Y/N connection is way deeper than anybody can imagine.

Y/N just continued to look at him with so much adoration in her eyes.

“ Okay love birds we chose the movie we’re waiting on you guys now”. Max says with an eye roll.

Y/N and Billy walked into the living room but not before Y/N leaned down and whispered in Max’s ear.

“ don’t worry max I have a grand plan for Lucas”. Y/N says walking away with a small grin on her face. Leaving a blushing max in her wake.

— 2 Hours Later —-

After the movie ended Y/N looked over at the clock and noticed it was 7:40. It looks like they only have time for one game before she has to call Hopper.

“ So I have guys listen up, it's a little late so we have time for one more movie or game whatever you guys decide”. Y/N says while pulling out the games from the chest.

After about 5 minutes they decided on watching another movie before they left.

“ So Max I heard there’s this boy whose been crushing on you for a while” Y/N says teasingly. Y/N signaled for Max to play along if one thing Y/N knows about men is that they’re extremely possessive no matter what age.

“ Yea and I like him back hopefully he asks me to the dance” Max says with a blush on her face.

Y/N notices from the corner of her eye that Lucas is not taking what they said well which means her plan is going accordingly.

“ if you need my help with getting him to ask you I’ll definitely do it” Y/N says eagerly.

Before Max can let out her response Lucas stands up and takes her and says.

“ Would you do me the honor of my date for the winter formal?” Lucas says while looking so nervous.

Max pretends to think about it which makes him start sweating. More than he already was.

“ Yes doofus of course I’ll go with you” Max says with a smile.

Y/N was happy for Max she got what she wanted but Billy on the other hand was not so ecstatic. Y/N looked over and saw Billy with a scowl on his face.

“ what’s wrong”.Y/N asked.

“ Don’t you think it’s to soon for them” Billy says with a pout on his face.

“ Awwww his the big brother feeling protective” Y/N responds teasingly.

Billy kisses his teeth at her statement.

“ No” was Billys only response.

“ awww baby it’s okay it just a school dance they’ll be fine” Y/N says while kissing his cheek.

“……. Fine but I don’t like it”. Billy says to Y/N.

Y/N laughs wholeheartedly. He was just so precious and cute when he’s worried.

The kids looked over at them when they heard Y/N they looked at her like she was crazy but left it alone.She was alway like that with Billy.

“ Okay kids get your stuff ready I’m going to call Hopper”. Y/N says while getting up and grabbing the house phone.

After a while Hopper picks up.

“ Hey Hopper the kids are ready”

“ Umm about that I’m stuck at work and I already called their parents to see if it was okay for them to stay”

“ What did they say”

“ Well they wasn’t to keen on Billy living there but since they trust you they allowed them to stay”

“Okay that’s great I do have extra clothes for them especially when they stayed here during the you-know-what.”

“ That’s great do you also think you can drop them off at school or call somebody to help”

“ No it’s okay I’ll ask my mom in the Morning to take the kids she’ll be happy to”

“ Okay that’s great Y/N I’ll pick up Eleven after school so will the parents except Dustin he’s going with Steve”

“ Geats I’ll let the kids and my parents know have a good night Hopper”

“ You Y/N Bye”

“Bye”

Y/N hangs up and goes back to the living room to tell the kids.

“ Okay guys put your stuff away your spending the night here and Billy and my mom will drop you off in the morning” Y/N says while getting the extra blankets and pillows out.

“ Yesssss Y/ N you're officially the best ever” Max says with excitement that her friends get to stay.

“ Well I try my best but you should really thank Hopper. He's staying overtime at work, so Max and Eleven are rooming in Max’s room , Boys you’ll be bunking with Billy”. Y/N says while taking them upstairs.

“ Actually you guys can get my room. I'll bunk with Y/N just don’t touch any of my things”. Billy says while staring them down.

“ Billy now my parents love you and all but they will literally kill us if they find us in bed together”. Y/N says wagging her finger in a no motion.

“ We can leave the door open, I just want to spend time with you and cuddle” Billy says while wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him.

“ It stays wide open Billy im not playing with you” Y/N says while mugging him because she was not gonna die over this man even though she do love him her parents were a different story.

“ I understand baby i promise” Billy says while sealing their lips together in a nice passion lip lock.

#stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery imagines

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icerosecrystal · 3 years

Text

Marijon - My Secret Older Sister

Her name is Marinette Amani Al-Ghul. Marinette is the first grandchild of the demon-head and the daughter of Talia Al-Ghul. She is also the older sister of Damian Al-Ghul by two years. Despite what others may think, both she and her brother came from the same man. Bruce Wayne. Although Damian has no idea who his father is, Marinette has known for eight years. Despite the young age of 12, she was an incredibly smart girl. She also possessed the ability to be happy and feel love. But not in front of anyone but her brother and sometimes her mother. She and her brother had a great relationship. They were always there for each other. Damian was there for Marinette when her grandfather Ra's would sometimes beat her for not doing well on a mission. And he would base it solely on her gender. Marinette was there for Damian the first time Damian had to kill someone. It disgusted him, but he continued doing it for the sake of his title.

Then the day the League fell came. Slade had attacked when Ra's was showing the whole League to Damian and explaining that it would all one day be his. Marinette was standing behind them next to her mother. Ra's had told her mother to grab both of them and run. Marinette protected her brother throughout it all when suddenly, Marinette got shot in the stomach. She collapsed in pain. She saw her mother running back to them, so Marinette let go of Damian, who was looking at her worriedly, "Damian, my akhi, go run, save yourself. Tell Mother to take you to Father. I'll be fine."

Damian was crying now, "NO, I won't leave you, you have to come with me. Please don't leave me, ukhti."

Marinette smiled sadly. She then hugged Damian and kissed him on the cheek, "I love you. And I promise I will find you one day." She let go of his hand as Talia quickly grabbed his arm and lead him to the docks, glancing at Marinette once in worry.

Marinette was lying still for a little bit before she heard a voice say, "Tom, I found her!" Marinette turned her head to the side and saw her godmother, Sabine Cheng recently Dupain-Cheng, hurrying over to her, with her godfather Tom not too far behind.

When they reached her, they gasped at the wound in her stomach. Tom picked her up and quickly walked to the docks with Sabine following. "Where we going?" Marinette said her voiced slurring, herself only half-conscious due to the blood loss.

Sabine answered, "We're going to Paris. We had a house there just in case we ever had to escape the League."

Marinette nodded in turn before she closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over. "Good night," she heard before she was fully asleep.

Marinette woke up to an unfamiliar scene. She tensed, but when she caught sight of her godparents, she relaxed, "So what's the plan?"

Sabine was the one who answered", Well, you aren't allowed to act like the devil in disguise." Marinette scoffed, but she didn't argue, knowing Sabine was right. She may be sweet with her family, but with strangers and acquaintances, she wasn't the nicest. "Also, you are going to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You are the daughter of two bakers, Tom and I, and you are a designer. You will also be clumsy and stutter a lot."

Marinette nodded in understanding, "Okay, but what about Damian?"

Sabine sighed, "You're just going to have to hope that one day you find each other again."

Marinette nodded in understanding. She then went up to her new room, ready to put on a mask for the rest of the world to see.

(Time Skip)

It was now the start of the tenth grade for Marinette. She was now thirteen-years-old, and she was ready to play her part of the clumsy baker's daughter. She took some macaroons for her new classmates and then walked outside. While she waited to cross the street, she caught sight of a man crossing the street. A car was heading right to him. Regardless of who she was pretending to be, she wasn't going to let a man get hurt. She ran and quickly pulled him to the sidewalk, effectively using it as an excuse to trip over her feet. She handed the man a macaroon and then ran to school.

At school, she sat down quietly in her seat. When a dark girl, with brown hair and auburn highlights, picked a fight with a blonde girl. The blonde girl was supposedly bullying Marinette. Marinette and the blonde girl exchanged looks, acknowledging that the girl before them was a load of bull. Marinette then found out that the blonde girl's name was Chloe, and she was a bully, and the other girl was Alya.

Marinette looked around the classroom, analyzing everybody.

She then heard a voice scream, "Kim!"

She looked behind her to see a big, burly blonde kid, look like he wanted to beat up somebody. The teacher then asked him, "Ivan, what is going on?"

The blonde kid replied, "It's Kim! I'm so going to get..."

The teacher then pointed to the door and shouted, "Ivan, go to the principal's office."

Before Ivan could stomp off angrily, Marinette spoke up, quite surprised by the way the teacher was handling things, "With all due respect Miss, you didn't even listen to Ivan's side of the story. It could be Kim that's bullying Ivan, but you're rather playing favoritism."

The teacher sputtered, not knowing how to react, "Who gave you the authority to question my teaching skills?"

Marinette smirked, replying, " Common sense."

Mrs. Bustier walked out of the classroom to calm down, pure fury clear on her face. That day she turned into Zombispect. When she kissed them, they would automatically obey and respect her. That was also the day Lady Spots and Chat Noir resided in Paris.

While Lady Spots was a great superhero, Chat Noir was an incompetent fool. Marinette hated him. He would always flirt with her and never get anything done. And in many cases, if he didn't get what he wanted, he would either threaten to quit or sit out. Marinette never told him, but she honestly thought that she did better in battle when he wasn't around.

In terms of her civilian life, Alya convinced herself that she was Marinette's best friend and that Marinette had a crush on Adrien. In actuality, Marinette's best friend was and is her brother, Damian, and Chloe. While Chloe was spoiled, she was also neglected by her parents, which made her act rather bitchy at times. And she for sure did not have a crush on the spineless Adrien Agreste. No one in the class knew anything about the real her. But her godparents and even Chloe, who knew a bit about her. But, the one person that Marinette wanted to talk to was her precious little brother. She needed to hug him, spoil him, and talk with him about everything. But most of all, she wanted to know that he was still alive and happy somewhere.

Marinette would cry herself to bed every day, hoping that one day she would see him again. Thankfully, Tikki was on her side.

(Time Skip of one year. This is after Volpina, but before Chameleon)

It has been two years since Marinette last saw her brother. Alya was still going strong, coming up with ridiculous plans for her to date Adrien. She was still a "clumsy" baker girl. And while designing was her supposed hobby, after about a month, she really got into it. What pissed Marinette off the most was that she had to wear pink, have her room pink, and wear pigtails. Why? Because it strengthened the fact that she was an innocent, little, naive girl. While it did help people underestimate her, it annoyed the heck out of her. She actually ranted to her godparents one day about how bad her appearance was, "How can one color be so bright?! How could anyone like looking at it?! Why the hell do these pigtails make me look like a short-ass baby?! I look like a fucking moron! Where the hell is Damian when you need him?!" It was about three days later when her question was answered.

Marinette had been walking around town when suddenly someone bumped into Marinette. Marinette caught herself and caught the person she bumped into. But the words that came out of the person's mouth had her reeling, "Tt, what type of imbecile are you to be bumping into people on the street?" Marinette would know that voice anywhere. And sure enough, when she actually looked at the person that she bumped into, she was staring into the face of her brother. When he realized who she was, he let out a timid, "Marinette," that had Marinette practically sobbing.

When she found that her face was wet, she realized that she was sobbing, but she didn't care. Damian was alive. She strangled him with a hug, cooing softly into his ear once he too started crying. They stayed like that for a while before they released each other. It was then that Marinette saw the boy standing behind Damian.

She blushed when she noticed his features, black hair like her own, the bluest, purest eyes she had ever seen. He was wearing glasses that gave him a nerdy look, but his body begged to differ. He was very tall, probably 5ft 11, and had huge muscles that gave off more of a jock look. He had so many characteristics that Marinette felt insanely attracted. She snapped out of her thoughts and offered the boy a hand, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or Marinette Al-Ghul, Damien's older sister by two years."

He gave her a blinding smile that could rival the sun and then kissed her hand, "Jonathan Kent, Jon for short. It's nice to meet the sister of my best friend." The more she studied him, the more she realized that he looked familiar. It was then that she realized he was Superboy, the superhero Alya had been raving about last week.

Marinette blushed at him kissing her hand. She then decided to let her inner devil come out to play. Leaning closer, she whispered, "It's nice to meet you too. I hope that you have been nice to my brother. Because if I found out you haven't, I might get my katana and skin you. I know that you might be invincible, but with the kryptonite, which I do have, you would be weakened within a second. So make your decisions carefully." She then leaned back and watched how his expression changed. His face went from happy, to confused, to shocked, to scared, and the surprisingly, love.

He smirked, "Well, you are better than I expected." He then pulled out a piece of paper and wrote his phone number. "Call me, you're hot and a little devil, I like it." He then winked and gave it to her.

They both heard Damian scream, "KENT! Stay away from my sister before I skin you!"

Marinette giggled and took the piece of paper from him. She then asked, "You look to be about my age. Why are you with Damian?"

Jon replied, "I'm 15-years-old. So one year older than you. (I know that Jon is actually three years younger in Super Sons, but for this to work, Jon is three older, not younger. If you have any problems with that, fight me.) And Damian and I work together a lot. We're considered the Super Sons, so we're best friends."

Marinette nodded in understanding before suggesting that they all go to a coffee shop to talk. Damian and Jon agreed. Damian told Marinette all about their father, their brothers, and sisters, him being Robin. He told her everything. She offered him support and asked questions about their family.

When it was her turn, she explained how Tom and Sabine saved her and how she came to Paris. And how she is pretending to be a clumsy sweet girl who likes pink. (She wasn't totally over the whole pink thing along with the pigtails.) That coaxed a laugh out of both Damian and Jon. But when she got to the part about Alya, Damian wanted to skin Alya. He was Marinette's best friend, not some dumb harlot. When she explained how she was Lady Spots, and Chat Noir had some major failings as a partner, it took both Jon and Marinette to hold him back. He continued trying to escape while shouting, "LET ME AT HIM, HE DARE FLIRT WITH MY SISTER!!! I'LL SKIN HIS SORRY ASS BEFORE RIPPING HIM INTO SHREDS AND DUMPING HIM IN A RIVER!" He then continued to explain exactly how he would kill Chat Noir. Marinette knew that he was capable of going through with his plan, so she distracted him by asking for his phone number so that they could stay in contact. Damian calmed down enough to give it to her.

When she realized how late it was, she gave a hug and promised to meet up with him for the rest of the week. She also promised that once he left Paris, she would stay in contact. She wasn't going to leave her brother again. She then went up to Jon and kissed his cheek before saying goodbye. She then turned around and went home. If she had stayed a second longer, she would have seen Jon blush and then touch the cheek that she kissed with his fingertips, a goofy smile adorning his lips. Although Damian wanted to keep Jon away from his sister, he supposed Jon was better than the mangy cat or the spineless model.

For the rest of the week, the three met up every day and did different activities. One day they went to the Lourve, another an arcade, the day after that a carnival, and so on. On their last day, they went to the park and then went for Andre's ice cream. When they arrived, Andre greeted Marinette, "Bonjour Marinette! Would you like a sweetheart ice cream."

"Oui Andre. This is my brother Damian, and his friend Jon." She then turned to the boys, "Andre is the sweetheart's ice cream maker. He essentially gives you icecream based on the characteristics of your soul mate. Damian, how about you go first."

Damian stepped in front of the cart, "Ah, Damian, one scoop of violet and honey for her eyes, coconut ash for her hair, and cherry for her mysterious and complicated past. Here you are." (There is actually such a thing as black ice cream. It's made with coconut ash that people sometimes flavor with burnt honey vanilla.)

Damian took the ice cream and looked at it. He then realized that it looked like Raven, his crush. He blushed. "Ah, I see the love fair and true. I suppose you know who is right for you?" Damian nodded and started eating his ice cream, a small smile gracing his lips. He then paid attention to his sister and his best friend. They were now getting their ice cream.

Andre looked at the two and said, "Ah, but here's the truth, the two of you are the right match. You complete each other just like one, so come, let Andre supply you with love." Marinette and Jon were both surprised by the turn of events. But they both just blushed and agreed. Andre then said, "Blueberry for both your eyes, strawberry for her lips, cherry for his secret, and cotton candy for your personalities. Enjoy!"

Jon and Marinette waved goodbye and then ate their ice cream. They were still surprised about the turn of events. Neither knew what to say to the other until picked up some courage and asked, "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Marinette was surprised but agreed. They shared a chaste kiss. They then heard Damian gagging in the background. They broke apart, and Jon raised an eyebrow, "You're one to talk. I saw your ice cream. It really represented, mmph." Damian covered Jon's mouth before he could blurt out the name of his sweetheart.

"Kent looks like it's time to go! By the way, if you hurt my sister, I won't hesitate to kill you." He then dragged Jon off, leaving Marinette to chuckle to herself. The next day, she said goodbye to Damian and Jon. She gave them both a quick hug along with an extra kiss for Jon. She was so happy that she had found her brother again.

(Time Skip of three years)

It has been three years since Marinette bumped into Damian and Jon in Paris. The two visited whenever they could, the same with Marinette. But they never told their families. Marinette didn't tell her family because they didn't know she was Ladybug. Damian didn't tell because he wanted his sister to himself. Jon didn't tell because the other two didn't. Jon's and Marinette's relationship was still going strong. They loved each other very much. Jon loved how playful and happy Marinette could be, but she wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone. She was his little devil. Marinette loved Jon because of how pure and sunshiny he was. She loved how he cared for her and was always there for her no matter what. Damian actually started a relationship with Rachel Roth otherwise known as Raven as Andre's ice cream had indicated all those years ago.

During the three years, many things had changed, though. A girl named Lila came and turned everyone against her except Chloe. Marinette pretended that she was sad, but really she was ecstatic that she didn't have to hang out with morons anymore. She found Lila quite pathetic. Lila let others do her dirty work for her. She hid behind lies and morons. Marinette never found her as a threat.

She also defeated Hawkmoth a year ago, but it was because he surrendered. So, she didn't take him to jail, she made him donate thousands of dollars to people who needed therapy from the akumas and do community service. He agreed, so she let him go. She was glad that Gabriel Agreste had learned his lesson.

Yeah, for the most part, everything was going fine, she wasn't stuck with morons, and she had her brother and boyfriend. Until her brother and significant idiot forgot that her bio family didn't know about her.

It was the end of another shitty day for Marinette. She collapsed on her chaise. She looked at the time and realized that it was time for her's and Damian's video calls. She groaned before getting up and getting her phone. She dialed his number before waiting for him to pick up. Once he did, she saw that Jon was with him. They all talked together animatedly. What Damian and Jon forgot to do, was make sure that the Bat-family didn't come back from patrol while they were still on the call. But naturally, the two idiots forgot.

So, two hours later, when the three were still talking, they didn't realize when Jason came into the room. They only did when Jason screamed, "Demon Spawn and Supes Junior are talking to a girl on the phone!" This alerted the rest of the Waynes, so they all ran into Damian's room. When they entered, they were met with quite a sight. A confused Jason was watching a small pixie-like girl screaming at Jon and Damian in what seemed to be Arabic, Urdu, Russian, English, French, Spanish, Romanian, and Greek.

Once she calmed down, although she was still glaring at the two boys, she introduced herself, "Hi, my name is Marinette."

Dick asked her, "What's your last name?"

Marinette replied, "It depends on who your asking. Here in France, I would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. In the league, I would be Marinette Al-Ghul. But, my real name would most likely be Marinette Wayne."

Jason yelled, "Your married to Demon Spawn!"

Marinette scowled, "No, Tt, are you always this incompetent? I am Damian's older sister by two years. I am also Jon's girlfriend of three years."

Bruce took a deep breath and pinched his nose, "And the reason none of you said anything was because?" He looked directly at Damian when asking the question.

Damian snapped, "I didn't want to share my beloved sister. She is too good for you imbeciles. She is also too good for Kent. But Kent is better than the mangy cat or the ugly model."

Everyone looked at Marinette confused except for Damian and Jon. She quickly shook her head, "Don't ask. If you want to ask me some questions, I'll be there in a minute."

Damian realizing that she was going to use the horse miraculous to transport to Gotham quickly said, "Wait, no, don't!" But she had already ended the call making Damian curse in Arabic.

Seconds later a portal appeared and a girl stepped out. She then spoke, "Kaalki, dismount." A flash appeared around her and they then saw the same girl on the phone now in front of them.

This left Wayne's gaping, while Alfred asked, "Mistress Marinette, would Kaalki I assume, need anything?"

Marinette replied, "Oui, she prefers sugar cubes to recharge. Merci, Alfred."

Then Jon got up and shouted, "My little devil!"

"Sunshine", Marinette exclaimed in joy before kissing him with full force. He kissed her back passionately. She placed her arm on his shoulders while he held her waist and lifted her a little off the ground. After a little bit, there was an awkward cough that reminded them that there were others in the room. They gave each other one more peck, before reluctantly pulling away. Although, Jon's arm was still around her waist. Marinette tried to not focus on the aching in her chest that was telling her to pounce on Jon and smother him in love and kisses while he did the same to her.

Marinette sighed and tried to focus on the situation at hand, "It's nice to meet all of you. My name is Marinette Al-Ghul Wayne, and I am Damian's sister as mentioned."

They all stared at her strangely until Tim asked, "Are you sure you grew up with Damian, or that your mother is Talia Al-Ghul? You seem a lot more different from Demon Spawn."

She smirked at them viciously, "First of all, I am for sure Damian's biological sister. Second of all, I may seem like an angel, but I'm the devil in disguise, hence Jon's nickname for me. Third of all, I'm not as arrogant as Damian because Ra's was always abusing me since I was a girl. So, I am a lot worse than Damian, I just don't show it."

No one knew what to do with this information. Sure Damian already knew about the beatings, but no one else did. They stared at her in worry, but she just waved them off, "Don't worry about me. Ra's is dead, I'm living with my godparents, and I'm happy."

Damian then rose an eyebrow, "What about your moronic classmates?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you. This pathetic girl who threatened to take my friends away, made it so that no one talks to me anymore. So, yay! Oooh, also I should probably explain my life to you?" She then went on to talk about everything, how her life was at the league, what happened when Slade attacked, her life in Paris and when she became Lady Spots, how she met Damian and Jon, what happened after that.

By the end of her story, everyone looked like they wanted to kill her classmates and Chat Noir. Well, almost everyone. Bruce was on the ground muttering to himself, "Why, why, why? I just wanted one of my kids to not be a superhero. Is that too much to ask for?"

While Bruce had his breakdown, Tim asked her, "Did you defeat Hawkmoth?"

"Yeah, I did. He surrendered, so I let him off with some requirements in place. I actually was thinking of doing something to expose Lila. As much as I hate the morons, their future will be horrible if they keep on listening to that pathetic bitch."

Damian looked at her curiously, "What were you thinking?

"You are going to invite my class to the Wayne Gala. There we are going to introduce the whole family, including me. Damian, you are going to bring Raven. I'll bring Jon obviously. If we disprove that she knows the Waynes, the rest of her lies will come crashing down." Everyone smiled obviously pleased with the idea.

So they spent the next month getting the gala together. They organized a contest that Bustier's class won. During the month, the Waynes got to know Marinette. While Damian did have a problem with sharing her, everyone still go to know her. They were officially scared of her after she won after sparing against everyone and then cussing at Damian in many languages. It made Jon fall more in love with her though.

Another problem was that the Waynes would walk into Jon's and Marinette's make-out sessions all the time. Once, Jon, had Marinette pushed up against a wall and he was kissing her passionately. Marinette had her hands in his hair, one of them playing with the ends of his hair. She had taken off his shirt and was kissing down his neck. Jon had groaned and had stopped her so he could kiss her neck as well making her moan in want. He was whispering about what he wanted to do with her at the same time. Through dazed eyes, Marinette looked up and finally saw her family looking at her, both Damian and Bruce had their jaws clenched. When Jon noticed them, he quickly let go of her. Dick, Jason, and Tim started laughing, cooing, and teasing them, making Marinette hide her head in his chest. This made Damian launch himself at Jon, but before he could, Marinette had already disarmed him. She screamed, "Don't hurt my boyfriend, Damian." He just huffed, but let it go. From then on, they made sure to lock the door.

It was finally the day of the gala. Marinette saw all of her classmates. They mostly looked nice, but Lila was wearing an incredibly revealing dress.

It was then time for the reveal. Bruce went up to the stage and announced, "Good evening, everybody. I am pleased that you could all attend. Today, I would like to introduce all of my children along with their significant other. To start, my oldest son Richard Grayson, also known as Dick Grayson along with his wife Kori Grayson."

(Bruce's suit)

(Dick's Suit)

(Kori's Dress)

"My son Jason Todd."

(Jason's suit)

"My son Tim Drake."

(Tim's suit)

"My son Damian Wayne with his girlfriend Rachel Roth."

(Damien's suit)

(Rachel's dress)

"Finally, my new found daughter, also Damian's biological older sister Marinette Wayne. With her date Jon Kent."

(Marinette's dress)

(Jon's suit)

When her classmates saw Marinette they started screaming insults. She just raised an eyebrow at them, "Is there a problem?"

Alya yelled, "Yeah there is. You're not a Wayne, you never told me that you were."

Marinette replied, "We were never best friends so I was under no obligation to tell you anything. I am a Wayne. I just lived with my godparents in Paris until my dad found out about me. I am dating my handsome boyfriend, Jonathan Kent. I have given you so much proof. How about you question Lila. She claimed that she was dating Damian. Damian is two years younger than her and he is dating Rachel. She isn't close to the Waynes, I am. So, stop questioning me and question her."

Everyone looked at Lila, but she was incredibly pale. That showed everyone that she was lying. They started yelling at her. Bruce then spoke up, "Security, escort this class out of the gala." As security did so, no one stopped yelling at Lila.

Marinette and Jon then turned to the reporters and Marinette said, "Five questions go."

She pointed to one reporter, "Where do you live?"

"Paris like I mentioned earlier."

She pointed to another, "How old are you?"

"I am 17-years-old, almost 18."

She pointed to a third one, "Were you surprised about being a Wayne?"

"No, I knew that I was a Wayne my whole life. But I was sent to my godparents instead of my dad like Damian. But I still knew." She pointed to her family, "They were surprised about my existence."

She pointed to a fourth reporter, "How do you like being a Wayne?"

"I really enjoy it. They are so nice to me. I really cherish them and we all have a lot of fun together. "

She pointed to a final reporter, "Do you like being Jonathan Kent's girlfriend and how did you meet?"

"We met when I bumped into him and my brother in Paris. We spent the week together. We got this thing called sweethearts ice cream. The ice cream tells you who your soulmate is. The guy who runs it Andre said that we were meant to be together. Jon asked me to be his girlfriend after. We have been a couple for three years. I love Jon a lot. He's really sweet and considerate. I wouldn't trade him for the world." Everyone awed.

Jon then picked her up bridal style, "Now that this is over, we'll be going home to have some fun." He winked at everyone.

Marinette blushed at the implications, "JON!" But, Jon silenced her with a passionate kiss, carrying her off the stage.

As Marinette kissed him back, she felt so happy. She had a loving family and boyfriend. They accepted her and cherished her.

She didn't know that the league was going to be attacked, but it helped her grow as a person and escape abuse. She didn't know that she would get a boyfriend. She didn't know she would ever meet her little brother ever again or meet her family. She didn't know what the future had in store for her. But she did know that she was going to spend it with her boyfriend and her family, and nothing was going to stop her.

(Sorry for the pictures smack in the middle of everything!)

#mlb x dc #maribat #miraculous ladybug #jonette #jonmari #jon x marinette #marinette x jon #marinette al ghul #marinette dupain cheng #jonathan kent #damian wayne #batfam #marinette is damian's older sister #league of assassins #dc #marijon

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itsonlystrange · 3 years

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I’d like to point out that the “it’s all just a bunch of coincidence” argument is very poor. People say that about anything they don’t like. If we’re using this argument then I could say that everytime Mileven accidentally held hands or touched or any of that lovey dovey stuff that the Mileven fandom goes nuts over is a coincidence, but I have 0 evidence that it’s a coincidence, I’m just saying it is because that’s how I, a biased person on the side of byler, sees it. And I love the Milevens that actually respect us, it’s just the toxic ones that stomp on us or rain on our parade that irritate me.

So I ask skeptical Milevens, why do you think it’s all a coincidence? Because the Duffers have gone on record multiple times saying that nothing in their show is a coincidence, so it’s odd of you to assume that it is, when that goes against everything the duffers have said.

I see a lot of people claim that all of Bylers very romantic coded scenes are just coincidences with out any real evidence solely because they want them to be coincidences.

Reminder that the duffers had to write, revise, have Noah and Finn read at the table read, rehearse, and then film all of Bylers romantic coded scenes. And do you seriously believe that nobody stepped up and said, “Hey, I think some people will start to ship this if you make your two male characters hold hands and look at each others lips.” Like on paper, that sounds romantic. And on screen, it looks romantic too! If the duffers didn’t want byler to be shown as romantic they wouldn’t have put all of that effort into Mike and Will’s romanticly coded scenes in season two. And sure, one could say they were oblivious and didn’t realize that this relationship could be seen as anything more than romantic and that one of their 100 other writers and revisors and producers didn’t step up and say “Is this really what we want to be conveying in this show when they’re just supposed to be friends?” (Which I doubt. The duffers and everyone else on the writing crew knew exactly what they were implying. And if the duffers themselves didn’t, I HIGHLY doubt that someone didn’t step up and point out how romantic some of these scenes are, especially considering multiple of their writers are apart of the lgbtq community which makes it highly more likely that someone would have realized as I’m sure their gay senses are much stronger than those of the cishet writers on the squad. ) However, byler kind of blew up after season two, so if ST didn’t mean for Mike and Will’s relationship to be seen as more than platonic, then why did they continue doing it in season three? And the thing is, we’re not “delusional” for thinking this. Hundreds of thousands of millions of people have pointed this out across all platforms. It stops being a problem with us and “seeing what we want to see” when millions of people see the same, and it becomes the writers problem for even implying that in the first place.

Here’s an example: take Lucas and Dustin. Sure, there are definitely people out there that think or head canon as either as gay, but not nearly as big of a community as the Byler community. The reason is: Lucas and Dustin don’t have queer coding. They haven’t been painted the same way as Mike and Will’s relationship has. Or Jonathan, yeah, people may head canon as him as gay, or even think he actually is, but he doesn’t have any evidence that really points up to the fact that he is, or that he could be.

The duffers aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t have written byler this way if they didn’t want people shipping it. The official ST writer account has acknowledged byler multiple times, before st3 even started filming. They knew what they were doing. If their goal was to portray Mike and Will as a simple platonic friendship, and that all of their queer coded scenes in st2 were just a coincidence, why would they continue to do it in season 3? Queer baiting is real, yes. However like I said before, the st writing team has a lot of queer and lgbtq+ members themselves, not sure why they would want to queer bait when they’re gay/lesbian/bisexual themselves.

The truth is, byler would have never made it this far if it wasn’t meant to be shipped and portrayed like more of a romantic relationship than a platonic one. They would have shut it down awhile ago. They wouldn’t be so ominous about it. Noah and Finn wouldn’t constantly dodge questions about it unless they legally weren’t allowed to answer them. The duffers wouldn’t have been so vague in the ending of season 3 or in any interviews regarding season 3 about byler. Mike and Will wouldn’t have gotten a whole segment in the official ST book, they wouldn’t have held hands! Seriously! They held hands. Did someone seriously not point out how non platonic that was?———

And use the excuse all you want, “Will was just scared. That’s why Mike held his hand.” Okay, well Max and Lucas held hands when they were both scared in the exact same episode but I guess that doesn’t count because they’re a boy and a girl and Mike and Will are two boys. ———-And it’s funny because you KNOW that if Mike promised to go crazy together with El, that would he in every Milevens Instagram bio, it’d be on merchandise, it’d be everywhere. If Mike said meeting El was the best thing he’s ever done, people would be going bat shit crazy over how romantic that is and how they’re so in love. If Mike and El fought and he ran out in the middle of the rain looking for her when he couldn’t even apologize to his real girlfriend who dumped him just hours prior, people would say that Mike was in love with El and how much he cares about her yadda yadda. But that’s the thing. It’s two boys, so apparently it has to be platonic. Because that’s just how it works in their cishet minds. ——I’d like to see a better argument then “it was all a coincidence.” Because that’s not valid. Why? Why do you think it’s all a coincidence? It’s all just fake? Please. Elaborate. Because if these romantic scenes involved Mike and El instead of Mike and Will, then they’d see. Because they didn’t have Finn and Noah rehearse all these romantic coded scenes multiple times for nothing. They literally wrote, revised, edited, rehearsed, and filmed ALL of these scenes and still went through with it. And even in season three when people really started shipping byler, they STILL directed Finn and Noah to look at eachothers lips. They still filmed the rain fight. KNOWING byler shippers existed and KNOWING this would only heighten the amount of byler shippers there are.

The duffers aren’t stupid. This isn’t a surface level show. Everything they do is intentional, they’ve said it themselves. And yes, I agree that some byler proof COULD just be apophenia, but stuff like this? Crazy together? Looking at eachothers lips? Holding hands? I’m the only one that cares about Will? Mike keeping his eyes open in the final Mileven kiss, those aren’t small little things. You’re telling me that they couldn’t find another take for that final Mileven kiss? No. Finn kept his eyes open because he was directed to do so. The duffers are writers and directors for a reason. They went to school for this. So please, I’d like to see some actual argument against byler other than “they said they loved eachother!” “It’s all a coincidence!” I’d like to see people actually counter my arguments with actual evidence. Not just “Finn says they’re in love” not just “Millie ships it!” Because interviews are not evidence. They’re instructed to create hype for the show. If David can lie about hopper being dead, Finn and Millie can lie about Mileven being in love. I don’t want the argument of “it’s been built up for 3 seasons so they won’t destroy it now.” Stancy was built up for 2 seasons and see how that turned out. And Mileven fell more in season three than it went up.

Anyways,, if you’re a polite Mileven, this isn’t for you. I love you with my whole heart. If you’re just vibing, I love you. Ship what you want to ship! Feel free to counter my argument! However, If you’re someone who calls us “delusional”, leave. The doors right there. The cast has talked about how much they hate the ship wars in our fandom, so if you’re just gonna say how stupid we are, don’t let the door hit you on the way out:)

Sorry for long post lol. Love you all

#stranger things #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #st4 #byler is endgame

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wri0thesley · 4 years

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Marked - Part 1 Dio x Fem! Reader (Kinktober Day #2: Abduction)

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. Vampirism. Abduction. Oral sex, biting, blood, marking, fucking around with Jojo vampire canon to my own ends. 5k.

Your father receives a missive at dinner; George Joestar is dead, and Dio Brando is missing, and Jonathan Joestar is set to inherit the estate. You push away your father’s suggestion that you get close to the Joestar boy - everyone knows that you and Dio Brando have a history. Your father, perhaps, does not know quite the extent - but as the memories resurface and your pounding heart does not let you rest, you retire to your bedroom for the evening. You are not to know it’s for the last time in your life. At least, the last time with a beating heart.

News travels fast, even by horseback.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Bad news travels fast - you hear of marriages of eligible suitors your father wishes you had accepted proposals from and deaths of friends who are struck with terrible consumption and melancholy quicker than you ever hear of invitations to country houses or balls. So it’s no surprise how quickly the knowledge of George Joestar’s death reaches you, being only a few cities over - your father reads the missive over dinner, and gives you the sad news with the air of a man rather too pleased by another’s misfortune.

“Wasn’t his son briefly courting you?” He asks, and you neatly wipe your mouth with the lace napkin by the table settings. You do not let the flush show on your face, even as memories of Dio Brando come rushing to the forefront of your mind. “The adopted one?”

“Mr Brando?” You ask, delicately. The thought of Dio’s wicked smile and his fingers on your back, touching the lacing of your dress, his body pressed hot and too close to you makes itself far too known for so early in the evening.

“That’s the one,” your father says. His eyes scan over the paper, his lip twisting to one side. “Looks like his adopted son’s done a runner, anyway. Perhaps you should be a comfort to his biological son in his time of need?” The way your father stresses the word ‘biological’ makes you repress a shiver; it makes you think of how he has been needling at you, reminding you that a proper young lady ought to be out of her father’s home and fulfilling her biological duty.

You have fulfilled some biological duty, at any rate - with Dio Brando, his hand between your thighs, your own fingers around his hips and your mouth open wide for the placket of his trousers to open. You’re certain that’s not what your father meant by ‘biological duty’ for his unmarried daughter.

“I’d rather think I should let him mourn in peace,” you say, your voice very quiet, your hand as steady as you can manage as you take a sip of tea from the fine china teacup. “If you don’t mind,” you stand up, slowly, “I have some correspondence that I should be replying to.”

Your father’s eyes follow you as you stand, his face set in disapproval.

“Of possible suitors, I hope,” he mumbles, low under his breath - and you decide to keep your dignity and leave the room in a flurry of skirts, trying not to let the thought of Dio Brando’s mouth hot on your neck and his body pressed snugly between your thighs overwhelm you altogether.

The correspondence is a lie, of course - you get letters, but most of the time, you throw them to the side. Your father’s ideas for suitable matches are so boring - they’re nothing compared to the fire in Dio’s eyes, the cut-glass accent slipping into the rough accent of a boy raised on the streets, the filthy words he’d given you that no respectable young lady should know. They pale in comparison, too, to Dio’s broad frame and his golden eyes and the carefully coiffed golden hair. How are you supposed to satisfy yourself with the droning on of a boring aristocrat who’s never done anything dangerous in his life when you’ve tasted danger on Dio’s lips and in trails of fire under his fingertips?

His fingers. You bite your lip, stealing a guilty look behind you. Your father will take his dinner and then retire to his study, a glass of port in his hands until he falls asleep in a stupor. Your maids are long finished with their daily tasks with only dinner things to take care of, your household rather less bustling since your mother passed away and your brothers and sisters have been married off. If you were to steal back into your bedroom instead of into the pretty little blue and white receiving room with your writing desk, nobody would be around to spy on you and wonder what you were doing.

And your body is aflame with memories, and your corset is squeezing you tight, and every rub together of your thighs as you hurry up the narrow passageway to your bedroom is torture. The maids have already lit the gas lamp, in case you want to retire to bed early, and you catch sight of yourself in the looking glass opposite your bed - your cheeks are flushed, your eyes bright, your bosom (already put to its best advantage by the tight lacing of your corset) heaving. This is the kind of look that Dio always saw you with, pulling you behind him into disused nurseries and cupboards.

“Look at you,” he’d say, bending his mouth low so that his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “If I didn’t fuck you now, somebody else would certainly get it into his head to. You look like you’re begging for it.”

Teeth dig into your bottom lip as you let yourself lay down upon the bed, soft pillows and covers beneath your back. Your fingers pull at your skirts, rucking up lace-trimmed petticoats to around your hips so your fingers can draw patterns on your thighs as your eyes flutter closed and you let the memories of Dio Brando overwhelm you entirely.

You rub softly over your mound, sweet shivers whispering down your spine as you remember how the first time Dio had touched you between your thighs, you’d been utterly scandalised.

“My chastity,” you’d hissed, through your teeth, though you’d already allowed him to kiss you harder than a husband would ever kiss his wife. “You’ll ruin me for marriage?”

Dio had raised one eyebrow cockily, his hand not moving - you had, he’d noticed, not moved his hand away from its place trapped between your thighs.

“You don’t like the idea of being ruined, darling? Because your body is telling an entirely different story.”

He’d pulled his hand away and it had glistened in the candlelight with your own slick, both at the way Dio had kissed you and the way he’d manhandled you and the dangerous position you’d allowed yourself into. Something about the thrill of danger had set a pounding between your legs like you’d never know.

You’d been unable to look away as he’d raised the fingers to his lips and tasted you, tipping his head briefly back as if savouring a fine red wine.

“Mm,” he’d said, looking at you through low eyelids, his pupils blown wide. “You taste like you want to be ruined.”

You gasp as your fingers brush your swollen clit, the organ sensitive to the touch. Dio, too, had taught you how to do this, laughing as he’d found a guest bedroom in one of the expensive country manors and he’d pushed you onto the bed, caging you beneath his massive frame.

“Touch yourself for me,” he’d said, your cheeks had flamed. “I want to see how you make yourself come apart, and then . . . then I want to show you how I’d do it.”

“I can’t,” you’d tried to say, weakly. “I-it’s not proper--”

Dio Brando had kissed you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, hard cock in his trousers grinding into your leg.

“Is anything we do together proper?” He’d asked, pulling back, and you’d had to admit that he was right. You and he were hardly models of propriety - and if he wanted to see you touch yourself . . . well. Nothing he’d done so far has been anything close to unpleasant, and you were eager to see what other tricks he’d picked up on the streets.

One finger slides down to your entrance, toying with the pulsing hole, circling it with the lightest of touches until you can practically feel the throb in time with your heartbeat. Your breath comes in soft little pants. You would do anything to have Dio here right now instead of you, his big fingers stroking and exploring you instead of your own. But all you have is your own imagination, so your eyes flutter closed and your hips cant upwards softly.

“Dio,” you breathe out, your voice a quiet prayer in the silent room.

Where has he gone? You had gotten the impression, from your father’s face at dinner, that there was rather more to the story than just Dio Brando running off when his father had died. But then again, your father had always disapproved of your dalliance with Dio, even without knowing the real truth. He’d sniffed.

“The boy won’t inherit,” Father had said to you. “You’re better off chasing the brother, unless you want to spend the rest of your life a pauper.”

It’s like Dio to be a mystery, but not like him to run from luxury. He had always loved the feel of your expensive silks and fine embroidery beneath his fingers, had a sarcastic comment to make about an ugly and out of fashion hat, had sniffed at cheap reproduction furniture and sighed when a host had skimped out on the wine at a ball. You wonder why he hadn’t stayed - and somehow, the mystery of it all seems almost romantic.

You swear that the air in the room gets colder. One eye opens to see that the lace curtains are billowing; you suppose a maid must have opened the window a crack to let some air in. Your eyes flutter closed once more.

One finger slides inside of you, smaller and shorter than Dio’s fingers inside of you had been. It licks at the edges of the fire inside you but doesn’t stoke them the way you want, and though you gently pump it in and out of you (the slick sounds of your fingers inside you heart-rendingly loud in a way that makes you vibrate with excitement), it isn’t enough, Your second fingertip twists, stretching you open wider, and again you whimper out;

“D-Dio, please--”

There’s a whumph of displaced air, and your eyes snap open as your body is suddenly once more caged by a frame far larger than yours. You find yourself staring directly into hungry golden eyes that can belong to only one man.

“You were calling out for me,” Dio Brando murmurs. “And would I be any kind of gentleman if I didn’t help a lady in distress?”

You think of a hundred ways to respond back to him in kind; flirty little barbs about how he is no gentleman, alone with a lady in her bedroom. But instead, all you can whisper, your fingers still inside of you, your throat dry;

“H-how?”

He smiles, and you swear that his teeth were never so white and sharp. His eyes, too, you think . . . they were gold before, but did they shimmer like liquids in his face? Was his skin quite so pale and smooth and perfect? Was his voice so low and lilting and musical, as he opens his mouth to say;

“It does you no good to ask that now, darling girl,” He leans down, his lips brushing yours, and you melt against him. “Just lay back. Be good for me now.”

You do. You’re helpless under his charms - your thighs fall apart as he rears onto his knees, as his hand gently removes your fingers (those he pulls up to his mouth, kissing the fingertips, mouthing where they are dripping with your slick and making a noise that’s all pleasure to taste you). You’re maneuvered like a ragdoll - and though he does not unlace your corset or strip you of your dress, he makes you feel utterly exposed under his gaze as he drinks in how helplessly pliant you are for him.

“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he hums, lowly, drawing one fingernail up your thigh. Were his nails so sharp, before? Like claws? He sighs as he watches the thin red line form, the bright beads of blood. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long.”

You’re not sure you want his fingers inside you with claws like that, but somehow when his fingers do touch you there is nothing sharp at all. There’s just his finger, toying with your clit, as he looks down at you.

“If you knew how lucky you are,” he murmurs. “That I’m doing this for you--”

He bends his head and you feel his tongue press against your entrance, flat and wide. Your own fingers tangle in the bedsheets, back arching, as Dio laps at you. His mouth and breath and tongue feel unusually cold, but you can’t dwell on that when he’s licking at you like this, teasing your back to arch and your body to tie itself in knots.

The finger working your clit does not cease for a moment, grinding and rubbing and circling, making hot sparks of want and need burst into life in your stomach. He laps at you broadly, from perineum to just below your clit, and you’re helpless under his ministrations as you always have been, all thoughts of how he ended up here banished from your mind with how good his tongue and fingers feel. There’s nothing to muffle the soft whimpers escaping your mouth as your peak begins to build, urged inescapably forth by Dio’s tongue and clever treatment of your clit--

Dio chuckles low against you, his breath cold, and the vibrations have your back arching even higher and suddenly he’s alternating sucking on your clit and flicking it, his hand moving away to hold onto your thigh, and all of the hot tight tension in your body comes to the forefront as your peak hits you, your body a shivering mass of white noise--

Something sharp like the pricking of a needle in your thigh. The high of your orgasm, sharp in its intensity, as you take a deep gulp of air and find it will not go down properly. Darkness, edging your vision. And Dio’s voice, low and quiet, somehow muffled as if his mouth is full of liquid as he murmurs;

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

Your eyes open slowly, though your head is still fuzzy. You feel somehow freer - and when you look down, you see that you have been relieved of your corset and neat dress, and instead you’re wearing a nightgown of flowing white chiffon, your hair unbound from the complicated fashion of the moment. You see, too, that this is most certainly not the pretty blue and white bedspread of your own boudoir. Beneath you is a dark red blanket, the colour of blood.

Memories of Dio’s fingers and mouth on you come rushing back, and you bite back a gasp as you realise that he’s . . . kidnapped you? Can you call it that, really? Because you always thought kidnapping was done against your will, by nefarious men who wanted your fortune - right now, you’re pleased to be in a luxurious and cavernous bedroom with a man who has haunted your thoughts since you first met him.

“You’re awake.” The voice is soft and cultured, and you pull yourself up on the bed (the nightgown slips, exposing your shoulder - any other lady might feel scandalous, but Dio has seen enough of your body by now that it barely registers. “Good.” Dio is smirking, seated by the bed in a wingback armchair.

Now, you see him more clearly, without the heady arousal of your senses that had marred your judgement last time. His skin is indeed paler, his eyes brighter, his lips very red - and at the corner of his mouth, where he is smirking, a sharp white fang glints menacingly.

You know what he is. The memory of sharp pain in your thigh and how he’d stared at the blood welling in the cut from his nails, the cool breath against your own heated skin. You are well-read, you are clever, you are perhaps a little too fond of things that your father thinks macabre - and you whisper it softly.

“Vampire.”

Dio’s smile widens.

“I knew you’d guess, darling,” he says, coming to stand from the chair, leaning towards you and taking your face in his grip, turning you to look into those golden eyes. “That’s why I chose you. If you’re willing, of course.”

“Willing for what?” You ask him, breathlessly. The smile does not leave his face.

“I do not have a fortune,” he tells you. “I have been cast out by my . . .” His mouth twitches in displeasure, “brother. I have no riches, aside from my own intellect - I have survived on that before. And now, of course, I have . . .” The hand not holding your face gestures down to himself. “This preternatural blessing. I am faster and stronger and better than mortal man. And I am extending you, my darling girl - the only one who’s ever kept up with me, whose lips I cannot stop thinking about, whose eyes and mind sparkle so unlike the other dullards I’ve been forced to put up with you . . . an invitation to join me.”

“You want to make me like you?” You breathe, and though you know it should be horrifying, the prospect is not all that displeasing.

Oh, you know that he is supposed to be a reanimated corpse. That you’ll lose any chance at a heaven, that you’ll have to feast on the lifeblood of other creatures to maintain an eternal state of not quite being . . . but Dio really is glowing, in a way you’ve never seen a man do before. His grip is tight. His body draws your eye, his face even more beautiful than you remember it - and is it really so bad, to spend an eternity beside him? Beneath him?

“You can say no,” Dio says, and the hand moves from your chin, fingers stroking over the pulse point in your throat so your breath catches. “For you, I’ll make it painless. But if you say yes . . .” His eyes are bright as he sits on the edge of the bed, close to you - you can see excitement writ plain across his expression. “We’d be fierce, my darling. We’d be unstoppable. With you at my side . . . You would have everything you could ever want. Anyone who has ever hurt you, ripped into pieces. Armies at your command. And . . .” That smirk again, the one that always makes you wonder what filthy things he is planning. “We would have a hundred lifetimes to learn each other’s bodies in every conceivable way.” He reaches forward, his lips a hair’s breadth from your own. “You have no idea it feels like in a body like this, to touch and be touched . . .”

He does not have to convince you any further. You close the distance, kissing him hungrily. You moan into his mouth as his arms go around you, holding you like a ragdoll, like you weigh nothing at all.

He could kiss you for hours, you realise, without needing to draw a breath - and so, you pull back from him, and you look at him with blown wide eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe to him. “A hundred times yes.”

His eyes grow brighter, and he kisses you again - and this time, as he kisses you, he hooks a leg around you until he’s straddling you, your body pliant beneath his. The candles about the bed flicker, the air cool as Dio’s hungry hands pull at the light chiffon, ripping it as if it were paper. You’re bare beneath the fabric - and as you look down, you can see that there are angry red pin pricks on your thigh.

He bit you, then - in the bedroom, when you blacked out. The idea makes you feel heady and intoxicated. You want him to bite you again, to leave his mark all over you so the entire world knows that you belong to Dio Brando.

The thought of abandoning your old life does not make you feel in any way aggrieved - but the thought of an unfettered existence, at liberty to do whatever you want (no matter how scandalous or improper) with Dio by your side does make you feel as if your entire body is filled with fizzing, boiling water, threatening to tip over and scald you any moment.

“I want to mark you,” Dio whispers. “Any marks that you leave this life with, you take with you into the next - and I want your thighs and hips and breasts and every private part of you to scream out that you are mine body and soul.”

Spirals of heat all through your core, making a pulse beat needy between your legs. Dio’s fangs are visible, now, almost imperceptibly lengthening as you feel his cock press into your stomach where he straddles you.

“I’m yours,” you tell him, winding your arms about his neck. His silken gold hair brushes your skin, making gooseflesh rise on your shoulders. Every bit of your body sings out for his attentions - to be thoroughly and utterly claimed by Dio in any way that he sees fit. “Do whatever you want to me.”

“I’ve imagined you saying that so many times since I ascended,” he murmurs, nosing against your ear, kissing and biting at your earlobe, his lips brushing where your pulse beats an excited rhythm in your throat. “But it has never sounded so sweet.”

His body presses against yours - and though he is not hot, your own body feels like it’s burning up. He urges your thighs to spread so he can settle between them, already peeling off his own layers of clothes to reveal a body which is more marble than skin. He is so pale he almost glows in the light - but a few scars remain from his rugby days, pink and faded. They look like kisses with rouged lips on his torso, and you long to kiss them yourself. But not yet - right now, you are at Dio’s mercy, and he clearly is relishing being in control.

“Oh, but I’ve missed this,” he breathes, his mouth lowering to your nipple, his tongue coaxing it to harden beneath his lapping. “You’re so warm, darling . . . I cannot wait to have you beside me for the rest of our existences--”

He does not use the word ‘lives’ - you do not mind.

His tongue is cold, and you shiver from both the sensation of the temperature and the other sensations that he awakes in you. He kisses the nipple, pulling his mouth free with a light pop - kissing the swell of your breast, circling kisses to the underside . . . and you yelp as fangs slide into soft flesh, as Dio groans and laps at the blood that beads over the pinpricks.

They will be hidden by your dresses. He wants you marked only in the most private places - places only his eyes will see. Everyone else will know you are his by the devotion in your eyes and your own words.

He continues to kiss along your skin, his fangs every so often sinking into sensitive patches of skin, suckling lightly at you. He kisses your hips, leaving three perfect bite marks in the curve of them. Your other breast, a matching set of pinpricks that will fade into a scar. Your other hip, the dip of your waist--

Each suck and bite and kiss of the wound has another shockwave of lust emanating through your body, making your entire self throb with need. You are empty, between slick thighs - and Dio’s cock seems so far away from entering you. You sigh and clutch at sheets and cant your hips, wondering if you are soaking through the bed - and Dio chuckles, as he bites into soft flesh again and you spill for him like a ripe peach.

It is fortunate the sheets are red, for you know he is spilling much of your blood. You’re light-headed and pleasantly fuzzy as he finally - finally! - presses kisses to your thighs.

These bites send shockwaves even more potent through your body, each slide of his fangs into your flesh like they have a direct line to the pounding heat in your core. Your mouth lets out needy moans and whines as Dio methodically sinks fangs inside of you and pulls them out, as he kisses the marks and sucks at the lifeblood that he’s drawn forth from you.

Three up the right leg. You’re breathless. Three up the left leg. Your vision feels like it’s swimming - there is nothing left in the world but you and Dio, where your bodies are joined, where he is now moving and you feel his cock against your thigh.

His mouth is stained with blood when he kisses you, but you pay no heed to that as you feel his cock open you up. Your sex - slick and needy, more than ready to finally be filled - welcomes him hilting inside of you to his very base with no resistance.

“Still so tight,” he murmurs, against you, as your thighs wrap around his muscled torso, urging him deeper and deeper inside you. “Has nobody else touched you, my darling?”

“It’s only ever been you,” you breathe. “It’s only ever you I want.”

It’s true. Other men have flirted, have come to your father, have told you of grand prospects for you as their wife - but all you have ever needed is this. Dio inside you and the promise of a life far more interesting than anything they could give you. Damn your dowry and your biological expectations and everything else - after tonight, you’ll fulfil the biological expectation of you alright. You’ll dig your fangs into yielding throats and feast on other people and fuck Dio with the taste of their blood still singing in your throat.

Dio’s body and mouth against yours, the sound of him rocking inside of you, the cool flesh pressing against your heated skin. You’re overwhelmed, entirely - partly from the blood loss but more so to have him here, so real and yet so unreal. Could you really have been in your bedroom, alone, hours ago? As he rocks inside you and his cock strokes all of those sweet parts of you your own fingers can never manage, it feels like you’ve never been anywhere but beneath him. Time seems to slow down.

Each thrust of his cock hits you impossibly deep, his shaft impossibly thick, fitting inside of you impossibly well. His kisses along your face and mouth and neck seem to linger for hours and stop in moments. He fits inside of you perfectly, like a glove - when he rocks out of you, his hips pulling his length so only the head of him is still inside you - you moan out in discontent to not be filled.

With every thrust as deep inside you as he can go, there’s a coil of pressure like a ribbon being tightened around you - like corset strings, threatening to snap. You can feel it when his pelvis rubs against your nub, grinding against it and sending hazy pleasure signals to your mind. Dio does not miss it either - he pulls out, murmuring platitudes at you, only to spear you again, his rhythm speeding up as you realise that the pressure is about to overwhelm you entirely.

You pant out his name, weakly.

“Dio,” you beg, as he kisses across your throat, as he growls low in his chest and his hips seem to fuck into you impossible fast. “Dio, please--”

The beg pushes him over the edge. His cock pulsates inside of you, twitching, cool seed filling you at the same time as he grinds his pelvis just so and the ball of pressure inside you that’s been threatening to snap comes all undone. He’s never come inside of you before - too much of a risk, in the old days. But as he gives you his release, he kisses your neck and he slides his fangs into your throat and he suckles hungrily at you, far more fierce than he did for any of the other marks on your body. Once more, your vision gets hazy, aftershocks of your orgasm still lapping at you even as you sigh and think;

If he kills me now, and I never wake up . . . It will have been worth it.

You do wake up, of course. You awaken tangled in sheets and scraps of what was once your nightgown, the chiffon marked all over with blood. You wake up with your skin deliciously cool and Dio’s body pressed beside yours. You look down at your own body; your skin somehow more vibrant, though there are pin prick scars all over where Dio had bitten you. You absent-mindedly bring a finger to your throat, stroking the final scar, and Dio’s golden eyes blink at you.

“Admiring my marks on you?” He murmurs, and you laugh - even your voice seems changed. Richer and prettier, the kind of voice that could convince a man to do anything for her.

“We have an eternity together now, my darling,” Dio murmurs, shifting closer to you on the bed. You let yourself be pulled into him, resting on the hard planes of his chest. “But tonight, your first kill. The true shedding of your mortal coil. Have you any thoughts? It ought to be someone . . . special. It will be such an event for you to look back on, after all. Mine certainly was.”

His mouth curves into a smirk - and you think of George Joestar. You think of what your father wouldn’t tell you. You think of Dio, fleeing from the estate, and the ruined castle with the drafty halls that you lie on a bed within even now.

You think of your father’s disapproving looks. The way he’d suggested crassly you ought to get close to Jonathan Joestar, how he’d told you not to bother at all with Dio Brando - worthless, if he wouldn’t inherit.

Oh, you’re supremely glad you bothered with Dio Brando. And wouldn’t it be poetic parallel, for both of you?

“I think,” you say, carefully, “I should like to pay one final visit to my childhood home.”

#writing #jjba #dio brando #not sfw #kidnapping #abduction #afab reader #fem pronouns #blood #vampirism #biting #marking #kinktober collection #sexy victorian sex with VAMPIRES

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

Magnus Archives/BNHA (1)

Fandoms: Crossover between The Magnus Archives & My Hero Academia

Characters: Jon and Martin (friendship)

Summary: Jon and Martin are reincarnated into the BNHA universe after failing to prevent the apocalypse. They compare their quirks to their respective Entities.

Will probably post on ao3 at some point.

(Part 2 here)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“They registered my quirk as Veracity you know.”

“Veracity?”

“Yes. Quite abstract. I suppose they thought they were being poetic…” Jon mutters, bitterness colouring his tone. He stares out at the playground, watching his age mates run about in a boundless display of youthful energy and innocent excitement.

From his place on the bench beside him, Martin hums, halfway between sympathetic and thoughtful, “I think it’s a nice name. It softens the edges a bit.”

“I should have expected it…to have a quirk like this… after we saw what your one did,” he curls his small child hand into a fist, “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”

Quirks. The strange and wondrous abilities gifted to people of their new reality. Jon had hoped, when he hadn’t presented with one at the usual age of four, that he would remain quirkless. He had suffered enough with having terrifying abilities in his previous life. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get his wish.

Martin reaches out, hesitates, then pats him lightly on the knee, “You’re taking it a lot better than me. At least you didn’t breakdown and spend the night in hospital.”

“I suppose,” he frowns, glancing sideward, “Though our situations are hardly comparable.”

Martin’s quirk put any person he touched with both hands into a fog-filed, alternate dimension/temporal pocket. Its similarity to The Lonely had been poorly received by both of them. Especially, considering Jon had been the one to suffer through its first accidental activation. While he had found himself lost and alone in a grey, fog filed, void, a hysterical Martin had been rushed to hospital. There the doctors had had to wait for him to calm down enough that a Quirk specialist could walk him through the process of reversing the effect.

“You thought you had trapped me for good. Of course, you would take that poorly.”

The quirk specialist had banally called it ‘Cloud Prison’ like it wasn’t the residue of a primordial fear god leaking into their new reality. Not even six years of a second life could dull the pain and terror that had been their final moments before the apocalypse. To suddenly have such a stark reminder shoved in their faces had shaken them both.

“I would never have done that to you on purpose,” Martin murmurs, probably drawing the same connection as Jon, “It just happened so suddenly…”

“Yes, well, I am now painfully aware of how volatile and uncontrollable a quirk can be.”

Martin winces, “Does it activate every time you ask a question? You can’t control it at all?”

“It seems to be automatic. If I ask anyone a question they must answer truthfully. There is also a lovely mental component,” He lets his resentment grow, “so I can feel their unease when they answer. I’ll know if the person is trying to fight or when they’re trying to leave out an important detail. It is very similar to…before.”

He grits his teeth. There were no Entities in this word, aside for the residue that lived in their memories but sometimes that could be just as bad. The last thing his recovering mind needed was a reminder of how he had slowly lost his humanity.

“I also feel them. The people I trap alone in the fog.” Martin adds and shivers, “It’s horrible.”

“Yes. It is.”

They both sit in silence as the light began to fade.

Their time at the park is almost done. Soon they would have to return to the foster home they both shared. Jon, being a mentally unstable adult trapped in the body of a child, had been too much for a young single mum who had never wanted children. He barely remembers her leaving him at a local shopping centre being hardly old enough to walk at the time. Martin’s parents had died in a villain attack, because, alongside fantastical powers, this reality was full of brightly coloured Heroes and Villains like they had woken up inside a comic book. Six years in and it still felt too surreal to be real.

“Well, we don’t have to use our quirks. It’ll just never touch anyone with both hands, and I’ll ask all your questions for you so you won’t have to worry either.”

Jon scoffs, “You can get away with wearing gloves. No need for anything dramatic.”

“You know what I mean Jon.”

“Reo,” he interrupts, “please remember to call me Reo. We already attact more attention than is probably good for us.”

They weren’t Martin Blackwood and Jonathan Sims anymore. That life was behind them. Here, they were Jiro Shirakumo and Reo Tsukauchi and the sooner they acclimatised to using their new names the better. Maybe, one day, he would even start feeling like ‘Reo’ and ‘Jon’ would fade away like a bad dream.

“You’re one to talk. We would attract less attention if you would loosen up a bit. I mean, I’m not perfect, but kids don’t talk so formally.”

“I would rather not suffer through the indignity of dumbing myself down on top of everything, thank you very much.”

“It’s not that bad. Why are you always so prickly?” Martin pokes him in the shoulder, grinning now, forcing Jon to shuffle away, “Normal kids smile every now and then you know.”

“I think you enjoy being a ‘normal’ kid a bit too much.” Martin had settled into his second skin with more grace than Jon had. Not that he was trying very hard.

A laugh, “Well yeah, I mean, no responsibilities, no nightmare monsters, no conspiracies, no apocalypse. It’s nice.”

“Oi Jiro!”

A heavy-set kid, two years their senior, stomps up and glares at them, “you and the weirdo coming or what because I don’t want to miss dinner again,”

“He has a name you know,” Martin reprimands, smile quickly turning into a stern frown, “Maybe you should try using it.”

“Tch. Whatever. Mrs Suzuki said to be back by five and I’ll get in trouble if I leave you losers behind, so you better hurry up.” The boy storms away, back to his group of friends, who all look their way and laugh.

“I don’t remember kids being so mean when I was young the first time around,” Martin complains, standing and brushing himself down, “You would think they’d have better things to do.”

He shrugs. Child bullies were so far beneath him that he barely registers when they shout insults at him, shove him into walls or knock books out of his hand. Not like he didn’t deserve a little hardship after dooming his entire world. Besides, Martin took offence enough for the both of them, getting into plenty of arguments on Jon’s behalf. Of course, now they both had somewhat threatening quirks, their fellow housemates were a lot wearier when it came harassing him.

“Come on.” He stands as well, “I for one do not want another lecture.”

“Mrs Suzuki does like to drag them out,” Martin agrees as they trail along behind the older kids.

Their neighbourhood is full of two-story apartment blocks and tightly packed houses which line the relatively quiet streets. It is only a short ten-minute walk from the park to the share-house and one he is intimately familiar with seeing as his carers force him to take it twice a week for ‘the exercise.’ At least the weather is pleasant here.

In the fading light of the afternoon Martin’s wispy, cloud-like hair and blue pupilless eyes catch the glow so they are almost orange. Martin’s strange physical features had become more pronounced since his quirk’s activation. Apparently, it was genetic, something a quick glance at the few photos Martin had of his biological family confirmed. This world sported many people with odd features and he just hoped that his own plain appearance, straight black hair and dark eyes, would remain that way. All he wanted was fade into the background and live his second life as peacefully as possible.

...

(Part 2 here): Jon learns more about his truth-quirk and deals with other people learning about his truth-quirk.

#the magnus archives #tMa #jon sims #martin blackwood #bnha #Baku no hero academia #CrossOver #angst #reincarnation #they are both about six years old in this fic #loney martin #the eye jon #fanfic #Hero/Archivist Au

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

Hey! I just read a couple of your drabbles and I LOVE THEM!💙💙

So if you don't mind, could you please do a Harringrove drabble/ficlet based on either of the two (or a mix of both, if you can) Twenty One Pilots songs "Tear in My Heart" and/or "Smithereens"?

Because, for me, Tear in My Heart is very Billy and Smithereens is very Steve👉👈

Thank you!!💜

Ok so love this and you have an amazing mind, just so you know.

This is like a 2 in 1 fic post so :))))

So smithereens and steve work so well together, like

“I go step to a dude much bigger than me/ for you I know that I would get messed up, weigh 153/ For you I would get beat to smithereens”

Like this is just Steve's personality. He got into a fight every season and barely ever wins without intervention. And like i could see him just being so overcome with emotions that he just does what he knows, which is self destruct.

Like with his fight with Jonathan, he almost accepts that Nancy was too good for him and thinks that he might as well take other people with him.

Then with Tommy in the parking lot, it’s not really a fight, but it shows that he has a conscience and fixes his mistakes.

Then with his fight with Billy, he only tries to protect the kids, even if he’s losing miserably.

I could 100% see steve having snuck into billy’s room during the night once (before he really knew about neil), not to do anything nefarious, but just that he had a really bad nightmare, because there was a small power outage, and billy is really good at helping him sleep afterwards.

And let's just say that Billy's alarm clock (which is always set for 5:30am, half an hour before Neil wakes up just to give him peace of mind) doesn’t go off because of the power outage.

And Neil comes to wake up Billy for school because he hasn’t woken up yet, and sees Billy spooning Steve and both boys are snoring and pressing bare chest to bareback, and so deep asleep that Neil lets them sleep, letting them wake up on their own.

And they do. Billy wakes up around 8am, feeling insanely well rested. He smiles and squeezes Steve before turning to sit up from his bed to look at his alarm clock, that’s blinking on and off and reads 3:18am, but the sun’s up and… the house is quiet.

Billy feels the dread settle deep in his chest, and swears he could cry if he were .000000001% more worried.

He hears the creaking of work boots walking around the house and knows, just from the tension lingering in the air, that it’s just an angry Neil pacing in the kitchen/ dining room and waiting for Billy to wake up.

He doesn’t know whether to wake Steve up and tell him to escape out of the window and run or just let him lay there anyway, it’s obvious that Neil already saw.

He let’s Steve sleep and throws a shirt on and slowly walks out of the room into the pits of hell, seeing Neil turn to him with an angry face a brighter shade of red than a firetruck.

As slurs are screamed and Billy is thrown into the walls and has family tchotchkes launched at his face, Steve wakes up after a particularly painful shove makes the wall shake, pushing a single picture frame fall off the wall on the other side.

Steve shoots up after that loud bang and hears a wail and muffled yelling before something else hits the wall. He grabs his shirt and puts it on as he walks out the bedroom door, seeing glass shattered on the hardwood leading to the family room, but what he sees around the corner is so much worse.

Billy’s bleeding in about twenty different spots, body curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, Neil standing over him, but turning to Steve with a grin.

Steve feels his blood boil as dots connect and loose ends are tied up, making the connection between Billy's bad nights and the new bruises he’ll sport under his shirt. The way he tries to hide it when he flinches at loud, authoritative men who are bigger than him. Why he told Steve to never call his house and why he is the way he is.

So Steve doesn’t think for another second before launching himself at Neil, slamming him into the floor, but that’s about as much as he wins that fight, because Neil is slamming him back and beating him the same way he did his son.

And billy, let’s admit it, is probably much stronger and a better fighter than his dad, but it’s so hard to fight back against an abuser that has controlled your life for so long. Even when you know you could win and that they deserve it, neil hargrove is still his dad and he could never get it into his head to hit him back.

But Steve was trying too hard to take him down because he was doing the wrong thing and losing terribly, never having won a fight once in his damn life.

Billy’s sitting up against the wall, ribs in excruciating pain and vision blurry, but he sees Steve getting up and kicking Neil once before backing up, and Billy sees his camaro keys in the dish by the front door.

So he stands up as fast as he can, ignoring the dizziness as if that would make it go away, grabs steve’s arm and shoots to the door, grabbing the camaro keys and shooting outside

He takes the driver’s seat, despite his dizzying head, just knew that he’d have to drive for a few miles then they could reevaluate, and Steve was clumsily getting into the passenger side.

Billy had only just started the car when Neil came rushing out the door, screaming threats and slurs as if that would make them stop their escape.

The camaro backed out of the driveway and shot down cherry lane in record time, going to the center of town, the least likely place Neil would cause a scene.

It isn’t until Billy puts the car in park that he can bear to look at steve.

He’s got a bloody nose and his shirt sleeve is torn off, hair disheveled from both sleep and the fight.

But billy looks so much worse.

He’s still hunched to the left from his ribs, he’s got tons of cuts along his arms, legs, and face from, what steve suspects, the broken glass on the floor. He’s also got this wild-animal-look in his eyes. One that screams, I escaped alive, but at what cost?

“Bill-”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Why-- I’m sorry are you asking me why I attacked your dad when he was kicking you while you were, literally, on the floor?”

“Ye--no, I-- but you got hurt, why’d you do that?”

“Billy, what did you expect me to do?” a shrug is all he gets in response--”If you saw my dad doing that to me, can you honestly expect yourself to stand there and watch it happen, or walk away and let it happen?”

Billy turns to face the grocery store--Melvad’s-- that they were parked in front of.

“It’s all weaving together in my head. All the bruises, the jumpiness, how you like to control things, it all makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is why you wouldn’t just tell me, Bill,”

“And what exactly would you have been able to do about it, huh? You gonna take care of the situation or some shit, Steve? Trust me, I’m used to it and--”

“But you shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it,’ Bill, that’s abuse, and you don’t deserve that shit, not ever,”

Their conversation is halted by a tap on the glass by Steve's window, and the boys turn to see Joyce Byers looking more motherly than ever.

Steve rolled the window down.

“The hell happened to you boys?” she asked but corrected herself with a shake of her head, “Doesn’t matter, just come in to clean up, we’ve got bandages and antiseptic, free of charge,”

Billy wiped away the tears he didn’t know had formed and nodded to her, “We’ll be out in a minute, Mrs. Byers.”

“Joyce, please,” she demanded softly.

“Joyce, of course,” Billy offered a subdued smile.

She walked off and Steve rolled the window back up.

“Thank you,” Billy spoke quietly after a moment. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you worse,”

“Billy, for you I would get beat to smithereens,”

“Well of course you would, you weigh like 100 pounds, not like you could put up much of a fight,”

“Hey! I gave him a black eye, thank you very much!”

“Oh, well, my bad, baby, then maybe you weigh 150, huh?”

Steve grumbled from the passenger seat, “153,”

Billy chuckled and grabbed Steve's hand over the console, locking eyes and smiling at each other, enjoying their small moment.

“We should probably get in there before Joyce comes out herself?” Steve sighed as he moved to take his hand out of Billy's.

“One more minute, please,”

Steve just tightened his grip on Billy's hand and moved towards the center of the car to rest his head on Billy's shoulder, Billy's head falling onto his.

Billy and Tear In My Heart thooooooooo

Like it fits him so well, again this is amazing.

I also see billy as a resident hater of america and it’s fucking government becuase, well, they have a history between his myriad of speeding tickets and, oh what was it, oh yes, the tentacle monster that impaled and possessed him.

And in California, there’s no cold weather where he lives, so there’s not exactly potholes to avoid.

The first time he drives into the cooler states and has to avoid potholes, he decides that his car deserves a vacation after this.

But the potholes become the biggest issue after he and Steve start dating.

He’s absolutely enamoured by this boy, because who wouldn’t be. He respects Billy's limits and can hold his own in arguments, and they fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Steve has changed Billy, not that he’d admit it, but he’s softer now and all of his sharp edges have been baby-proofed. They’re still there and dangerous, but they’re more difficult to be stabbed by.

All the cracks in his heart have been filled with gold, like Kintsugi (a Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with gold).

And Billy can complain and complain about Steve's clinginess, about his intrusion into his life, and his persistence to stay, but deep inside Billy's never felt more loved or cared for in his life.

But these damn potholes might just make him lose it.

Because billy is anything but a bad driver, he can control the car even when it’s going 45 over the speed limit, but now that steve falls asleep after their movie dates or when they’re coming back from barbeques with the party, Joyce, and Hopper, he’s driving the speed limit.

Which is just appalling.

But some of these potholes are so deep you could dive into them and not hit the bottom.

Like what the fuck, Indiana?

And, one time, Max is with them after a barbeque when Steve falls asleep and Billy slows the car down to what feels like snail speed, but is just the speed limit.

“Why are we going so slow?” Max asked as she leaned forward from the backseat to whisper to billy.

“Steve’s sleepin’,” he said, as if it was the obvious reason.

“You’re whipped,”

“Shut up, Shitbird,”

Max leans back into her seat with a grin on her face at the absolute mush her big, tough brother has turned into for Steve Harrington.

#harringrove #stranger things #steve x billy #billy x steve #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #twenty one pilots #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 7

Chapters: 7/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

They are absolutely trashing Martin's bathroom, but he can't bring himself to mind. Not even if it costs him the security deposit on his ridiculous, tiny flat.

Gerry is sitting in the empty bathtub, stripped to his briefs, laughing so hard that tears roll down his checks, tracking black eyeliner with them, and Jon is sitting on the edge of the tub and trying to keep track of which pieces of hair have been dyed while Gerry refuses to keep his head still. Martin is sitting on the floor next to them and holding the bowls of varying shades of purple dye.

The dye itself is flying everywhere, between four hands attempting to apply it and Gerry's apparent inability to keep stationary and stop laughing for even one second.

"Gerry! Keep still," Jon yells in his best teacher voice. His imperious tone is demanding, but the grin on his face rather undercuts it.

"Can't," Gerry insists, pulling his head down (with dye covered hands) to press their lips together. The kiss is sweet, but Jon doesn't appreciate all the new places it covers him in hair dye.

"Gerry, it might all go more smoothly if you just let Jon and I do it for you." Martin advises him.

Gerry pouts, "Letting the men in my life just do things without my participation wouldn't be a very 'strong independent woman' move on my part."

"You're not a woman," Jon points out drolly, "Besides, what does that say about me, with the way you two are always arranging to pay for everything we do and everywhere we go?"

"It says you have two incredibly attractive men who like to do nice things for you." Martin tells him firmly, as he always does when the topic arises. They all hear Jon's eyes roll.

"Gerry," Martin starts in the voice he knows gets just the right response from him. "Stop being a brat and. Sit. Still."

Gerry sits still. Martin kisses him to inspire continued good behavior, and Gerry's teal eyes practically glow in a way that fills Martin with supreme satisfaction.

With their target stationary, Martin and Jon make quick work of Gerry's remaining hair.

He is ordered to stay put in the bathtub while it sits, and Martin starts cleaning up the bathroom. Jon heads into the shower to avoid being dyed in a plethora of bizarre places.

Martin goes to return the dye to Gerry's hair product box, and pauses with his hand in it.

Gerry, sensing Martin's distraction, jumps up to go over and stand behind him. Martin settles back into the warmth of his chest, and Gerry's arms snake around him.

"You would look very fetching in that colour," Gerry whispers enticingly in Martin's ear.

"You think?" Martin murmurs back, eyebrows rising in consideration.

"Yes," he replies, leaning forward to bite Martin's ear lightly. "Please."

"Whatever might you two be consorting about over there," Jon demands cheerily, emerging from the shower wrapped in his towel.

"Martin was just about to agree to become the next hair dying victim." Gerry informs him confidently, snaking an arm around Jon's shoulders and bringing him in close so he too can see the bottle sitting in Martin's hand.

"Oh." Jon says in a reverent sort of voice. "Yes, I think that's a very good idea indeed."

***

Martin sits still much better than Gerry did, and Gerry does his hair himself, Jon having already rid himself of persistent stains and wandered off to make something for lunch.

Gerry pushes Martin in front of a mirror (not Martin’s favourite pastime, but for Gerry, he suffers it) and they both look at him. Gerry grins. “It’ll look better in the end obviously, but what do you think, love?”

“I like it, actually.” Martin whispers, like a confession.

“Actually? I expect more self-confidence than that from my masterpieces, babe.” They laugh and sway together in front of the mirror.

“I love it, thank you.” Martin turns in Gerry’s arms and they kiss slowly and thoroughly.

Martin presses his hands along Gerry’s bare sides and up along his spine, where he knows a line of eyes is inked along each vertebrae.

Gerry keeps his hands on Martin’s chest, in an effort to keep their respective hair dye where it belongs, although his hands cling to Martin's shoulders and push and pull in response to their movements.

“Really you two? I leave you alone for 5 minutes and you’re both half naked and making out?” Jon interrupts them from the doorway, his words soft and appreciative.

“We could be even more naked, if you're interested in that?” Gerry offers, winking at him.

“Could we?” Martin asks, apparently just wondering out loud.

Gerry raises a suggestive eyebrow at him. “We definitely could be.” Gerry smirks, "You are familiar with how nudity works, yes?" He illustrates his point by pulling at the waistband of Martin's briefs and letting them snap back into his hip.

"Yes, I am familiar." Martin growls into his mouth, biting his lip for good measure. "Care to join, Jon?"

"Maybe when there's less hair dye on the table, so to speak. Ger, your timer went off, you'd better jump into the shower and wash off."

"Yes, sir." Gerry pecks Martin one last time, salutes Jon and strips off to hop into the shower.

Martin flushes at his casual nudity, and a heavy look passes between him and Jon.

Taken with Martin's pink laden head, Jon can't resist going over and pressing just one kiss to Martin's soft lips.

Later, when the bathroom is clean and everyone has washed, dry hair, they all pile around Martin's sitting room, a documentary playing softly in the background. Martin's new soft pink hair looks even better dry and Jon had whispered to Gerry conspiratorially that it reminded him of Martin's sweet early morning blush.

Martin is braiding Gerry's now wildly purple hair, and Gerry has convinced a reluctant Jon to let him paint his nails.

"We really shouldn't." Jon protests, even as Gerry paints on the base coat. His own nails are painted black, of course. His artist's eye appreciates Jon's neat, smooth nails, and he considers what kind of tiny designs he might be able to sneak onto them at some point.

"Why not? I used to paint your nails all the time when we were younger. That's where I got most of my early practice."

"I'm not a teenager anymore, Gerard. I have a professional job!" Jon complains, but Gerry knows these are only nerves, not lack of desire.

"Oooh, Gerard!" Martin coos, before tumbling into a laugh. "There's nothing in the dress code that says you can't have painted nails, Jon. And we all know you like having them done."

"That's meant for women, and you know it, Martin." Jon protests.

Gerry and Martin both stop their tasks abruptly to stare at him. "Jon, babe," Gerry can barely contain himself. "You are wearing a skirt. Martin has pink hair. I'm getting my absurdly long hair braided - into pigtails. I don't think any of us are exactly paragons of toxic masculine stereotypes."

"Besides," Martin adds, when he can speak calmly without tumbling into hysterical laughter, "there's no gender specific dress code at the library. All it says is 'If nails are painted, they must be neat and unchipped.'"

Jon looks askance at both of them, crossing his skirt clad legs primly.

"Come on," Gerry encourages gently, "It's just this one time. If you don't like it, we can take it off before you go to work on Monday morning. Or while you're at work on Monday. Or in an hour. Or anytime at all. It's just one small adventure."

"I know it's been a while, love." Martin pitches in, "But, don't worry, Gerry will be gentle."

Jon ends up with green nails, which he likes very much. Gerry is enamored with his braids, and begs Martin to teach him to do it himself. Martin is simply delighted to have a house full of laughter and colour for the first time in his life.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

Text

Bonus from Human Relations (Jello Salad, NASA, and Epic Jon Bitchery)

Short little thing thumped out in an hour last night. I was challenged to write a genuine argument and Elias eating Jello Salad. I succeeded in one of those things.

TW for discussions of, as you can probably expect, 1950s racism and maladaptive relationships

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

The name must have been familiar, carrying its own power - honestly, a peerage, man was annoying every time - because a waiter appeared from nowhere very quickly to take Jon’s hat, coat, and briefcase. Jon took the opportunity to straighten his fine suit and tie, and glance around the room.

Part of him couldn’t help but be proud: barely four years ago, it would have been impossible to step foot inside the finest restaurant in Washington, DC. Senators dined on these tables, creating backroom deals and manufacturing methods of state and politics, and Jon had been forced to rely on some creative means to work himself into those deals. These days, it was as simple as walking in through the front door. Of course, the entire room was staring at him extremely pointedly, but that was what the peerage, money, and reputation was for. Jon never much cared if people disliked him - he tended to only concern himself with people who could do something about it.

Everyone of import in Congress knew Jonathan Sims. A whisper on the wind, a knife in the dark: that had been Jon, always. It still was. But now, people looked at him with respect. Everyone did.

Everyone except, of course, the young man sitting at the pristinely white table that the waiter lead him to. Utterly unrecognized, but dimly familiar in the way that the endless parade of Jonah’s bodies always was: a thin, emancipated type of look, in his early twenties, with a thin but healthy comb of blonde hair and light muscle that would soon go unattended under Jonah’s careful attention. Hilariously, he was still short - would that man ever find a body over five feet seven?

Jonah smiled as Jon and the waiter approached, waving aside the waiter’s silent question of if it was really Jon that he had been waiting for. Honestly, the more things changed.

“Jonathan,” Jonah said warmly, “how long has it been?”

“Too long to say in polite company,” Jon said lightly, shaking his hand tightly. He was waiting for public hugs between men to go back in style. He missed it, slightly. “You look...different.”

Of course, Jonah noticeably preened. “I think this one has a nice, strong jaw, don’t you?”

“It’s...the jaw that the English peerage is famous for,” Jon said tactfully, sitting down on a delicate and fine chair. “What brings you to DC, Jonah? Normally you can’t be pried away from London with a crowbar.”

Jonah gleamed a bright white smile at him. “Can’t a man miss his close business partner after so long apart?”

“That would imply you’re capable of human emotion.”

“True, my mistake.”

The waiter appeared, and Jonah ordered something carelessly expensive and good wine as Jonathan carefully ordered a very refined and dignified cut of filet mignon. The wait on the food was short, of course, and Jon and Jonah wasted time by chatting about their business ventures. Jon’s was going extremely well, obviously. Jonah’s was extremely boring and slow, obviously.

“This industry boom is incredible. The technological innovation, the jump forward in progress, the persistent fear that it will all be taken away the minute we step out of the conformist line…” Jon picked up his fork as the plates of steaming and small portions were slid onto their table. “Mark my words, Jonah. 1953 will be our year.”

“My good man,” Jonah said sympathetically, “it’s well into 1957.”

“Years should be longer. Simon agrees with me.” Jon frowned, picking up a fork and cutting into his meat . “We’re investing in Simon and his projects, by the way.”

Jonah smiled over the rim of his wine glass, raising a delicate blonde eyebrow at Jon. “Wonderful of you to make these decisions for us.”

“When you insist on spending all of your time in the crude and backward England, I shall do as I please,” Jon said haughtily, only to see Jonah snicker into his glass. “I’ve been working with him to push his little initiative through Congress.”

“How quickly the prodigal son shuns his motherland.” Jonah ate slowly, never once looking away from Jon. He had never forgotten that tendency of Jonah - to keep his eyes always, always on Jon, as if keeping an eye on a dangerous predator. But in that hooded, dark gaze, a half-smile always tugged at his lips. In his better moments it seemed like fond indulgence; in his worse it appeared closer to a child watching his kitten chase a dangling piece of string. “A decade or two in the land of tomorrow and you’ve adopted a new home country?”

“It is a land of progress,” Jon hissed, jabbing at Jonah with his fork. “England is stagnant, putting on airs of civility and progress when it does little more than languish in its former greatness. Look what happened with the mess in India. What do we have left? A few impoverished African territories? Yemen? We have lost all ambition. The English still fancy themselves the greatest population in the world, when they’re little more than a bombed out shell. At least America had the decency to profit off war.”

“War is fairly pointless if there’s no profit in it,” Jonah agreed mildly. He sipped his wine again delicately. “So you figure that space is the next frontier, then?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is always in our best interest,” Jon said primly. “I was skeptical too, Jonah. But I met this lovely young engineer, a Ms. Johnson, and she’s opened my eyes. NASA is the future, and NASA is here. Only habit keeps you in England, now.”

For the first time, Jonah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A respect for history is far from a habit, Jonathan. Have some respect.”

“Your history, not mine. And you’re ancient history too,” Jon pointed out. He calmly ate his filet as Jonah sputtered. “Admit it. You’d walk around in the cravat you were buried in if you could.”

“The cravat is dignified. It’s hardly my fault if young men these days flaunt themselves in those dirty blue jeans.” Jonah sneered the word with marked disdain. “I can see their calves.”

Despite himself, Jon smiled into his filet. “Did it give you a case of the vapors?”

Jonah reversed his grip on his fork and held it casually within stabbing distance of Jon’s hand. “Do not get us kicked out of this establishment.”

“Were you forced to recline on your fainting couch with your smelling salts?”

“I have propiety,” Jonah hissed. Hilariously, his new body had the tendency to flush a little, and his ears were noticeably red. For the first time, Jon wished that he owned one of those camera things. “At least I don’t while away my hours with your harlot of a girl.”

Almost immediately, Jonah seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and Jon was distantly aware that his neon green eyes had taken on a dangerous tint. Jonah leaned back a little from where they both had been unconsciously leaning in, and Jon carefully readied his grip on his steak knife. “Watch how you speak of my wife.”

“Wife?” Jonah crossed his arms, tone dripping with condescension. “When did you marry that gold digger?”

“Thirty years ago,” Jon ground out, and Jonah blanched. “You were there.”

“Ah.” Jonah paused a beat. “Well, you know how time gets away from us.”

“You were my best man.”

“Maybe we can Christmas together!” Jonah said, faux-brightly. “Christmas has become quite popular lately. I can buy her one of those dishwasher things suburban women are always losing their minds in Macy’s about.”

“We have people for that,” Jon said condescendingly. “And we don’t live together, anyway. She’s experiencing the beatnik lifestyle with that little gang she runs around with. I think they write novels.”

Jonah stared at him blankly. “What is a beatnik?”

“I believe they’re similar to bohemians? I don’t understand either.” Jon wiped his mouth with the napkin again, having cleared his plate. He replaced his napkin, carefully keeping the grip on his knife. On the other end of the table, Jonah’s grip on his fork was just as tight. “She expressed no desire to be a politician’s wife, and I have no expectation of her being so.” Jonah snorted - quietly, subtly, but visibly. Jon narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re always a gas, Jon.” Jonah’s own plate cleared, he flagged a waiter to take their plates away and refill their wine. “A politician’s wife.”

“I am a politician,” Jon said testily.

“Mm-hm.”

“I pushed a large bill limiting freedom of speech just last month.”

“Of course.”

“I’m close, personal friends with Senator McCarthy.” Jon’s grip tightened on his knife until the wood bore into his palm. “Even if it’s in no - no official capacity, I’m making a real impact here. My service to ou - God has been extraordinary. Unlike you.”

There it was - a hit scored, a gauntlet thrown. Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Yes, because doing your job and collecting records for the Institute is a waste of time that has no relevance to God. As opposed to what, Jonathan? Wearing fine suits and putting on your own airs?”

Bright, sparking irritation flashed through Jon’s chest, but it was laced with something more. A hard defensiveness, bared teeth, curling up to prevent a weak belly. “I’m allowed the fine suits, Jonah! I am allowed to have this!”

“They’re just suits, Jon,” Jonah said condescendingly, eyes a mirror of false pity. Always pity, always false, always pretending he was weak, or - or -

“I have fought for everything, and -”

“Oh, not this drivel again.” Jonah wiped his hands on a linen napkin and balled it up, throwing it on the table and leaning back. “Yes, yes, you suffered, whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You’re so boring. Maybe it’s the nature of Archivists to be incredibly dull. My new man, Angus...whatever, he’s unbearably bland.” A glint of humor shone through his casual airs. “We’d benefit from you.”

“Oh, here it is again,” Jon said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He threw his hands up. “Every time, you harangue me, tell me my work is meaningless, and try to drag me back to your boring and tepid old library -”

“Who are you fooling, Jonathan?” Jonah retorted, also perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nobody but yourself, and you know it! You aren’t a politician. You aren’t anything.” At Jon’s deranged look, Jonah quickly backtracked. “You aren’t anything without God. Everything you have is because of it.” It was something that couldn’t be argued, and Jon huffed out a breath as he untensed. Jonah smiled faintly, lowering his hands as if he was placating Jon. “Not to say that you aren’t doing any good. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. But aren’t you more interested in being where you can do the most good? In being in the place of your highest productivity, your most effective worship? I understand America is...new, but it’s a dalliance. An infatuation. Which is more meaningful, Jonathan? A summer fling with an attractive woman, or a faithful wife who maintains your home and heart?”

Jon squinted at Jonah. “Georgie doesn’t like maintaining homes.”

“I do not understand your relationship with that woman. She hasn’t even given you any children, for lord’s sake.”

They were both incapable - how could an Avatar of the End give life? - but it was another tasteless thing to say, so Jon glared Jonah into submission over it again. For all Jon constantly heard praise over how impressive and charismatic and charming Jonah was, he was insufferably rude and tactless in reality. “Neither of us are very much in the business of allowing society to tell us how to live our lives. Society will pass, age, and die before we do. Why bow to it?” Jon smiled coyly. “Why bow to anything that ages?”

“You’re lucky you’re useful, you slimy little -”

But Jon just laughed, because he had won: Jonah had raised his voice in righteous anger that echoed across the suddenly deathly quiet restaurant, and the maitre’d was walking towards them very quickly. Jon laughed even longer as the waiter spoke in smooth, ubiquitous, but firm tones to Jonah: do try not to cause a disturbance with your companion, sir, this is a respectable establishment -

“As respectable as you when you cheated on your wife with the housekeeper?” Jonah snarled, and the maitre’d blanched. “Get out of my sight. Don’t come back unless you’re bringing us a plate of Jello salad.”

Jon laughed harder as Jonah sat back down, huffy and embarrassed. His ears were red again - how quaint. Jon had the feeling he’d grow to enjoy this James Wright body - as much as anybody could enjoy Jonah, of course. “Jello salad? Is that the nasty preserved food you people are all eating?”

“It’s modern cuisine,” Jonah said stiffly. “It’s quite good. Aren’t you the one who’s so fervent in preaching the gospel of modernism?”

“Not if it comes in Cool Whip and bologna, I don’t.” Jon pulled a mock sympathetic face. “You ought to be more careful, Jonah. It’s worth keeping an eye on your health. I heard that bologna helps promote aging.”

“I will spear you with this fork and cook you over a fire,” Jonah said pleasantly.

“My, are you balding so soon -”

In the end, they were thrown out anyway. It was for the best, anyway: Jon had no intention of eating that suburban trash.

That day was the last he ever saw of James Wright. It was the last he saw of Jonah Magnus, too - at least, until he received a phone call in 2015 saying that Gertrude Robinson was dead, and that he was required home to select a new Head Archivist.

It stood to reason that Jon wasn’t really necessary for the process. He had no part in choosing that woman Archivist - why would he be necessary for the next one?

“I am beginning to think,” Jonah said over the phone, voice strange and uncanny with Jonah’s familiar cadence in a reedy and light voice, “that I am incapable of appointing controllable Archivists. Every one you’ve picked has been blissfully, wonderfully boring, and the ones that I pick defy me, ruin my plans, and try to kill me. Get back here and choose one yourself.”

“But Jonah,” Jon had said, delighted, “you choose me as your Archivist.”

“I said what I said. Get back here, now. Please.”

And that, in the end, was what brought Jon home: the fact that Jonah hadn’t cajoled, manipulated, or tricked. It was the fact that he had asked. Had said please.

He had never said please to Jon before.

But maybe it was pointless anyway: Sasha James was no more malleable than her predecessor had been.

#georgie shows up as a beautiful but aloof woman in On the Road who won't sleep with sal because she's too beautiful and free #i'm trying to reconcile here 'jon & jonah like each other and are family'#with 'jonah has a paternalistic and controlling attitude where he just thinks jon should spend all of his time working for him #and when he inevitably wants independence and freedom they fight #still working on it!#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #my writing #human relations #jonathan sims #jonah magnus #*breakdances* literally every relationship in HR was controlling and manipulative and I have feelings about this

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

Beyond the Mountains - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, Damian Wayne, Ra’s al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, bits of Tim, Conner, Terry Pairing: jondami Summary: There was a new Batman in town, but it wasn’t Damian. No, Damian returned to the League of Assassins with his grandfather. Jon married him anyway. A/N: A batman beyond ‘verse kind of?? based on the comics! Referenced the two arcs Damian are in in Batman Beyond currently (like, 10-13 and 43 through current) a few times in here, but also changed a few of the canon details. Since the current arc Damian is in in BB is not yet out, I bs’d the end and I’m sorry it sucks. I imagine Jon being the hot/dorky high school teacher so...that’s what he is haha. Also reminder that I am nooooooo good at sex scenes haha. I worked a fuck ton on this, so if you like it, please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon!

Jon was used to Damian breaking into his house in the middle of the night. He’d done it since they were kids. Jon had started breaking into Damian’s house right back when they began dating. It was a thing between them. Their thing.

But this time. This was different.

The bright light shining through the window woke him up first. It was blinding, and he had no idea what it was. Was it daytime? Did he sleep in? Impossible, his parents would have never let him, despite being nearly twenty-three years old, and a guest.

Next, he caught on to the wind, the sound of something hovering. The light was coming from an airship? Batman? Wonder Woman? One of the Lanterns? Was there an emergency?

But as he sat up, he saw a shape drop onto his windowsill. A familiar one, one that put his heart at ease almost always.

But…it didn’t this time.

Because Damian’s silhouette was wrong. There was no cape, or even pointy-eared mask like there should have been. In fact, he seemed to only be wearing what he always wore under one of those uniforms. Compression leggings and long-sleeved shirt.

“Damian?” Jon asked as he sat up, and Damian dropped to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. But I’m not staying.” Damian explained quickly as he came into view. His face looked hollow, eyes dark. “I just…I just needed to see you before I left.”

“Left?” Jon kicked his blankets off, stumbling to his feet. Damian wasn’t the type to throw words like ‘left’ around easily. “What do you mean? You’re…you’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wha…where are you going? What happened?” As an afterthought. “Is your dad okay?”

“He’s fine. In Gotham where he belongs. I…” Damian looked away. “I’m going with my grandfather.”

“No.” Jon stepped forward, grabbed Damian’s biceps. “You are absolutely not going with him, and I don’t care what he said or who he threatened, he cannot make you do anything you don’t want-”

“But I do.” Damian whispered. “I…I want to go. And I’m going of my free will. No one is forcing me.”

“No.” Jon was shaking his head. “No. I don’t believe you. You would never-”

“What my father is doing isn’t working, Jon.” Damian pleaded. “And his scope isn’t wide enough. His vision is today, not the future. But that’s what we need to work towards. That’s what my grandfather envisions.”

Jon was still shaking his head, still squeezing Damian’s arms. “No way-”

“I didn’t come here to debate.” Damian sighed, closing his eyes. Carefully, he wiggled his way out of Jon’s grip. “I just came to say goodbye.”

Before Jon could say anything else, Damian took a soft hold of his face and kissed him. It was heavy, desperate, but gentle, and so clearly apologetic. But even as Jon began to shift his arms to hold on to Damian’s waist, keep him there forever, Damian slipped away and was back to the window.

He looked back only once, then disappeared back into the dark.

To say Jon was furious was an understatement.

It’d been weeks since Damian disappeared. Weeks. And when he first went back to Gotham to tell him what Damian had said to him, Bruce hadn’t been surprised. Said he knew, and that he was looking for Damian himself.

And for a while, he gave Jon updates. Called him every few days with his new leads or any evidence he may have found.

Then he stopped.

And when Jon showed up in Gotham a few weeks after, he saw some kid with Bruce, at Wayne Enterprises. Same dark hair, athletic build and eager face as the rest of them.

“You’re not looking for Damian at all, are you?” Jon snapped as he burst into the office, ignoring all security and secretaries. “You’ve already…moved on, haven’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Jon.” Bruce countered, weakly standing in front of this new boy.

“Do I? You stopped calling me with your leads.”

“Because none are panning out.” Bruce promised. “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jon huffed. “…All this time, I defended you to Damian. But here, it turns out he was right all these years. You never gave a shit about him.”

“Jonathan!” Bruce admonished, face filling with his own anger.

“Save it.” Jon waved him off as a security guard grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “I’ll just go find him myself.”

Nanda Parbat.

He’d never heard of it before, not even from Damian. But this lead came from Tim, through Conner, and not Bruce, so Jon believed it. Especially with Tim’s own unfortunate ties to Ra’s al Ghul.

It was freezing here, and Jon was almost starting to doubt Tim’s intel of a secret village, when a barrage of arrows came out of nowhere in the fog. They barely missed him, just as he almost missed the bola swinging straight for his throat.

In the moment of being overwhelmed with weapons, he lost track of where he was going, and found himself bouncing off the sharp edge of a jutting cliff, falling out of the air like a crashing plane.

The landing was surprisingly soft, thanks to the snow that he plopped into. But when he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a circle of masked assassins, each one holding a matching sword to his throat.

“Um…ow.” He murmured, rubbing his head. Slowly he raised his hands. “I, uh…come in peace?”

“You should not have come at all.” A voice called further away. The assassins all backed up a step, and some shifted to allow him to see. An old man had spoken, older than anyone Jon had ever seen.

Damian stood behind him.

“Surely the Detective has told you.” The man – Ra’s, Jon assumed – said. “You are not welcome here, Superma-”

Ra’s trailed off as Jon sat up. As he slowly got to his feet and ignored the danger of death all around him.

“You are not the Superman I am aware of.” Ra’s countered. Damian, still silent behind him, let his eyes grow wide. Jon grinned back at him. “But the rules still apply to you, and you are as unwelcome here as the original Superman is…”

Jon tuned him out as he moved forward. One of the assassins stuck his sword in front of him, and Jon just bent it in half as his walk turned into a run, and he all but barreled towards Damian.

He hit him head on, like a freight train, almost knocked him over, really. But Damian caught him anyway. Wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon wrapped his around Damian’s waist.

“You’re here.” Damian gasped, shifting his hand to clutch at Jon’s hair. “You’re here, you…you…what are you doing here?!”

“Looking for you, obviously.” Jon smiled against his throat. “I mean…last I checked, you’re still my boyfriend.”

Damian’s fingers twitched against his head.

“Unless that lame ass goodbye you gave me was supposed to also be a breakup.” Jon smirked. “And if that’s the case, I didn’t get the message, and also don’t accept.”

“It doesn’t matter what you are to him.” Ra’s reinserted himself into the conversation. “We don’t allow visitors of any sort here, least of all unannounced ones.”

Jon backed up a little bit, but only enough to turn. He kept Damian in his arms. “I’m not leaving without him.”

“Then I’m afraid you won’t be leaving here alive, Little Superman.”

Damian was instantly between them. “A few nights, Grandfather. Please.” Ra’s narrowed his eyes at him. “He was unaware of the rules, and their strictness. He should not be executed for his ignorance.”

“We don’t make exceptions here, Damian. You know that.”

“I also know I am the heir to your throne, and as future Demon’s Head, can do as I please.” Damian countered. “I’m only asking as a courtesy, out of respect for you. Now, either you let him stay, or I let him carry me away, and decide later if I wish to actually return.”

Ra’s frowned. “Watch yourself, Damian.”

Damian merely raised his chin. It’d look regal, if he wasn’t still half corralled into Jon’s arms.

“…Fine. He may stay.” Ra’s spun away, waving to the nearby assassins to stand down. “This time. Inform him of the rules, and remind him that he won’t get this mercy next time.”

Damian glanced back up at Jon, who gave him his best grin. “…Yes, sir.”

“Who told you about this place?” Damian asked. “Or how to find it?”

“Tim, technically.” Jon hummed from the bed, watching as Damian slowly walked around the room, lighting candles as he went. It gave the space a warm, comforting glow. “Well, I mean, Conner told me. But the info was from Tim.”

Damian nodded. “Guess I have to kill him, then.”

Jon laughed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop staring at Damian as he moved. He was graceful, yes, but it was more his clothes. Loose pants under an open, deep green robe.

Even in his pajamas, he looked royal. Like a king.

(Like his king.)

He himself was just in borrowed clothes. Offered the same as what Damian wore, but only took the dark green pants. Robes were never his thing.

“Well unfortunately, I won’t let you do that.” Jon laughed, ducking his eyes only a little when Damian looked back at him. “…He misses you, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Damian said dryly. “He and Father both, right?”

Jon sighed. “…I don’t know what Bruce is doing, but Dick, Tim and them…they never stopped looking for you. In fact, I told them I’d contact them if I found you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Damian hummed.

“Why, want to hide all the terrible al Ghul secrets from them?” Jon smirked. “I mean, doesn’t Tim already know most of them?”

“He does I suppose, but that’s not why.” He finished lighting the last candle and blew out the match between his fingers. He carefully put the smoldering piece in a nearby ashtray and turned fully towards Jon. “I want to spend time with you.” Damian admitted. “Uninterrupted.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up instantly. He suddenly remembered that he was, gloriously, only half clothed. And that the only extra piece of clothing Damian had, the robe, was light and easily rippable.

“And you know if you contacted them, they’d attempt some kind of rescue mission, and come in guns blazing, etcetera, etcetera.” Damian drawled as he waved his hand around, walked towards the bed, and sat on its edge. “And that would just waste our time together, wouldn’t it?”

Jon smiled and flopped his hand out for Damian to take. Damian did so instantly, leaning down to drape himself across Jon’s chest.

“…You sure it can only be a few days?” Jon whispered as Damian trailed his fingers along his cheekbone. “Sure you really don’t just want to come back with me?”

“Want to, of course. We could get that log cabin in the middle of the forest you’ve always talked about.” Damian lamented, even as Jon dragged their combined fingers to his mouth and kissed them. “But I need to stay.”

“Why?”

“I can do good here.” Damian offered. “I can…learn things. Maybe one day put them to good use, or, heaven forbid, tell them to my father. Work together to save the world, and all that.”

Jon kissed at his fingers again. “And where do I fit in that plan?”

Damian hesitated, then sighed, attempted to pull his hand away and sit up, but Jon didn’t let him. Clung to his fingers, and wrapped his free hand around Damian’s back.

“It’s just a question.” He promised. “Not an accusation.”

“I…suppose I had hoped you’d take my last visit to you as an ending to our relationship.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “Not because I don’t-”

“I know.” Jon smiled, kissed his hand again.

“…I’d hoped you’d forget about me. Move on. Find happiness elsewhere.”

Jon grinned, pulling Damian down farther. “Impossible.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Well, it would have made my plan a lot easier.”

“I’d say sorry if I was.” Jon released their hands to hold the side of Damian’s face. “But we both know I’m not.”

He felt Damian’s smile as he pushed their mouths together. Damian melted against him immediately, hands running up his sides to curl into his chest.

Jon’s heart pounded, and he could feel the fast beat of Damian’s through his jaw. His hand twitched, nails just biting into Damian’s skin.

God, he missed this. Missed him.

“How…many?” He gasped as one of Damian’s hands found their way into his hair. “Days? How many days can I stay?”

Damian hummed. “Three at most.” He answered when parted for a quick inhale. “Four, if I begged, perhaps.”

“You, begging? I’d love to hear it.” Jon laughed as he shifted to begin kissing along Damian’s jaw. Damian pinched at his collarbone. “Any way we can extend my visit indefinitely? Or gain unlimited visiting access without potentially getting murdered?”

Damian hummed again, pulling back to lean thoughtfully on his elbow.

“…There are not many, I don’t believe. At least, not many that would apply to you.” Damian thought out loud. Jon reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Damian’s ear, then ran his hand down to his shoulder, where he began to subtly push Damian’s robe off. “Members of governments and armies we are having dealings with and spouses are all that come time mind.”

Jon’s hand stopped on the curve of his arm. “Spouses?” He blurted. “People are married here?”

“Not many, but a few. Higher generals and some of the scientists, maybe. My bodyguard, Koru. He is. I’ll introduce you to some of their children in the morning, they’ll enjoy you.” Damian shrugged. “At least two of Grandfather’s wives stayed here in their lifetimes.”

But when Damian looked back towards Jon’s face he frowned. Jon was smiling.

“…What?”

“There’s our solution, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We get married. I become husband to the next Demon’s Head.” Jon’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Problem solved.”

Damian scoffed, sitting up completely. Jon released him only reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous.” Damian snapped. “You can’t marry someone just to have unlimited…as Todd would put it, booty calls.”

“One, rude that you believe I think of visiting you as purely earth-shattering sexcapades.” Jon pushed himself up onto his forearms. “Two, also rude that you don’t think I’d want to marry you because, I don’t know, I love you?”

Damian just glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, we’ve said I love you to each other before. Many times.” Jon countered. “I mean, I know we haven’t said it since, you know, you ghosted everyone for three months, but still.”

“Marriage is a big decision.” Damian countered. “And I’m not letting you make such a spur of the moment decision on my account.”

“Who said it was spur of the moment?” Jon demanded. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages.”

Damian snorted. “You have not.”

“Have so. Ask your sister.” Jon countered. “She was helping me for weeks to figure out what kind of design I wanted for a ring, and had scouted a bunch of jewelry stores in Gotham and Metropolis. We were planning on checking them out the weekend you disappeared.”

Damian just stared at him. But there was less annoyance in his face now, more wonder. His eyes glowed in the dim light from the candles.

“I mean, we never made it to the stores, so I don’t have a ring. But I’ll go fly out to one of the mountains outside and make one out of stone if you want me to.” Jon sat up completely now. “I’ll even get down on one knee if you want that too.”

Damian just stared up at him. His cheeks were rosy, and Jon wanted to kiss him again, but now that he’d started down this path, he had a feeling it would be awkward if he just stopped his weird admittance of adoration to make out some more.

“I always thought we’d have a giant wedding, you and me.” Jon whispered with a dreamy smile. “But…this is an opportunity. This is a good opening. We’re together, we’re alive. And it kills me to think about, but when is our next chance to be both those things together?” He looked down, and took Damian’s hand between both of his own. “I…forgot, until I saw you again, outside. How much I missed you. How lonely I was. How worried. How miserable. How much I…worship the fucking ground you walk on, Damian.”

Damian didn’t say a word.

“Is it a means to an end? Well, if the end is me not getting killed for just stepping foot here, then to some it may look like that. But it’s not.” Jon hummed, stroking his thumb along one of Damian’s knuckles. “It’s just…no time like the present, you know? Potentially getting murdered gives us a good reason to get it done. To not wait, or hesitate.”

Damian stared at their hands.

“And I…I realized. When I saw you again. I don’t want another day without you. I don’t want another day without being yours.” Jon squinted, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “Even if marriage wasn’t a potential solution, and I mean, you said maybe, you didn’t even say sure thing. But even if it wasn’t, even if Ra’s locked me up for staying too long, or showing up again, that’s fine. I’d be here with you, so I’d be happy anyway.”

“…It’d have to be long distance.” Damian murmured, turning his hand in Jon’s grip. “I can’t leave here. But I refuse to damn you to stay in this place forever too.”

“I know. I have stuff I need to do back home, too. A job and hero stuff. I’m not going to stop helping people or anything like that. But hey, it might work in our favor. I can be your eyes and ears back home. Keep you in the loop in case anything serious happens, and you need to come back, if only for a day or two.” Jon tilted his head. “And now that I know where Nanda Parbat is, I can be here every week. Every night.”

Damian looked up at him, eyes wide and almost disbelieving.

“And it’s weird to say, but you’d be safe here. No one will be able to find you, except me.” Jon smiled. “My very own prince hidden away and guarded by an evil dragon.”

Damian quirked a smile at that. “…We’d have to do it quickly. The wedding I mean. Before your three day time limit is up. After informing Grandfather, of course.” His smile faltered. “You wouldn’t get the big wedding you wanted.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a big wedding. I just said I always imagined that’s what it’d be, with both of us knowing so many people, and, you know, being Superman and Batman’s sons.” He squeezed Damian’s hand. “I’m more interested in the act than the event.”

“Oh, the wedding night?” Damian teased, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Stooop.” Jon drawled as he threw his head back with a laugh. “I do not want to marry you so we can have, as you put it, secret mountain village booty calls whenever I can come out here.”

He heard Damian laugh too. Felt Damian squeeze his hand. “…Yes.”

The answer was soft, almost inaudible. Jon lowered his head to look Damian in the eyes, the tears in his threatening to overflow. “What?”

“Yes, I will marry you.” Damian whispered. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Jon felt a tear escape even as he leaned forward and engulfed Damian in his arms. Felt Damian wipe it away as he twisted his head to kiss him. Felt Damian’s own tears drip onto his face as they fell back into the bed together.

In the middle of the night, he reluctantly slipped out of the warmth of Damian’s bed and tiptoed to the door. He slowly slid it open and stuck his head out, glancing around for the one Damian called Koru, the bodyguard.

“Pst!” He hissed when he saw him, just down the hall. Koru narrowed his eyes, but quickly pattered over. “Can you do me a favor?”

Koru frowned. “No.”

“Why no…oh. Right.” Jon whispered. “You can leave your post, I promise I won’t tell. And I promise I’ll protect him in the meantime.” He let his eyes glow red as he pointed at them. “I’ve got heat vision and super strength and all that. He’s in good hands.”

Koru’s eyes had widened slightly. “…What do you want?”

“Go out and find the coolest stones you can find. As many as you want, but at least two.”

“What for?”

“A secret, but I promise it’s not a weapon. And I promise you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Koru hesitated for a moment, then huffed. “Fine. But if any of his blood is spilled, I will have your head.”

“Perfect.” Jon gave him a thumbs up. “Knock twice when you’re back?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Cool.” Jon grinned at him and slid the door shut once more.

In all his years, in all his fantasies of getting married to Damian, the one thing he never thought was that he’d be getting married by the one and only Ra’s al Ghul.

He was ordained. In at least six different religions, and all countries but Norway. Who knew?

Ra’s wasn’t thrilled when Damian barged into his quarters the next morning, Jon in tow, to inform him of their intentions. If anything, he seemed most annoyed at the fact that Damian had upturned his plans for the day, and entered the room without knocking or any of the formalities he was supposed to perform.

He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“His mother fell in love with the Batman, and he fell in love with the future Superman.” Ra’s sighed in answer to Jon’s question as servants suddenly swarmed the room, dragging Damian away for wedding preparations. “It follows a pattern. Why should I be surprised?” Another group of women came into the room and began pushing him out of it as well. “Your ceremony is at dusk. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t see Damian the rest of the day, but it’s not like he was given a chance to notice. He was fed and, awkwardly, bathed. He was presented with what appeared to be traditional robes, made of the nicest materials he’d ever seen in his life, and stood on a stool as the clothes were tailored and hemmed by some of the women – “Call us your grannies, little American boy.” The eldest of them said – for the rest of the afternoon.

It was…nice, though. The women were kind, and the assassins sent as guards were respectful. Jon even got a few of them to smile. The children who were following their working mothers chattered his ear off, in between drawing pictures of him and ‘Prince Damian’ as they jokingly called him, and creating colorful crowns and headbands for him from the scraps of fabric scattered around the room.

After a light dinner that, against the instructions and commands of all the adults in the room, Jon ate with the children, there was a quiet knock on the door before it opened to reveal Koru, Damian’s bodyguard.

His clothes were much finer than the battle-ready armour Jon had seen him in since he arrived, and he felt a sense of honor wash through his system at the thought.

“It’s time.” Koru mumbled. Jon stumbled to his feet, and practically ran after him. The women and the children cheered in his wake, sending salutations and well-wishes after him.

Koru led him outside and down a path that seemed to leave the small village completely. Suddenly, the path took a sharp incline into the hills surrounding them, and Jon felt like they were walking into the clouds.

The end of the path opened into a clearing of pure stone, a cliff jutting into emptiness. The sky around them was a deep orange, the sun, giving off rays of golden light through passing clouds, merely a sphere of blood red on the horizon.

It was beautiful.

But Jon didn’t even see it.

Because Damian was there, with Ra’s and Goliath, standing on the edge of the world. His hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the cold earth below him.

He and Ra’s were in similar clothing, both green with golden accents, but Damian’s seemed a little more formal. The golden patterns a little more detailed, a sword fastened on his hip with a sash.

He looked a like a king on his coronation day.

And he was breathtaking.

The snow crunching under their feet alerted the others to their presence, and Damian spun around instantly. His eyes widened at the sight of Jon, and Jon had a feeling he was just as enamored with what he saw as he himself was.

Koru didn’t go with him as he walked forward, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything, Damian was the only thing that existed. Not the cold, not the assassins, not their superhero fathers.

Nothing.

“Stunning.” Damian breathed as Jon reached him. Jon smiled as he reached for his hands. Damian grabbed at them greedily.

“Those ladies know what they’re doing.” Jon laughed. He looked Damian up and down, then blinked, and looked at himself. “Oh…oh, that’s cute.”

“Hm?”

“The robes.” Jon grinned, nodding down to his dark yellow clothing, with green embroidery. “Mine’s the opposite of yours. You know, minus the sword part.”

“…Indeed.” Damian hummed, seemingly just noticing it himself. He smiled. “Very…cute.”

Ra’s suddenly cleared his throat. “Are you two ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Jon answered instantly.

“Don’t expect anything overly sentimental, Mr. Kent.” Ra’s warned, pulling a notebook from his own jacket. “This will be quick.”

“The quicker the better.” Jon grinned, squeezing Damian’s hands. Damian smiled warmly back. “Honestly, we can say our personal vows later. You can just skip the to ‘I do’ part, Ra’s and it’d be – oh!”

Damian frowned. “What?”

“I forgot.” He turned. “Koru? You still have them?”

“Of course.” Koru scoffed, offended. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something Damian couldn’t see, dropping it into Jon’s outstretched hand. When Jon pulled his hand back, Damian couldn’t help but gape.

Two rings, made out of the black stone of the mountains surrounding the village.

“Told you I’d make you one.” Jon said sheepishly.

“When?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping.” Jon laughed. “You’re a heavy sleeper when you’re happy.”

Damian’s face reddened with embarrassment, but Jon paid it no mind. Instead, he reluctantly let go of Damian’s hand, only to slowly slip the ring on. Ra’s took the hint, and began reciting the vow for Jon to repeat.

Jon didn’t hear a word he said. Repeated on autopilot, waited until he had permission to say the two words he wanted to most.

“I do.”

And Jon could have sworn that Ra’s said the vows slower for Damian, just to torture them both. So instead, he focused on the warmth of Damian’s fingers as he gifted him with the second ring. Laughed as Damian then reeled Jon in, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

He was already descending as he whispered, “I do.”

The universe restarted when they kissed; the second coming of the Big Bang. It took all Jon had not to clutch at Damian as tight as he could, and float off into the sky like a runaway balloon.

When they parted, Jon leaned their foreheads together. Goliath shrieked happily into the darkening sky.

“I love you.” He murmured, running his thumb along Damian’s cheek. “More than…than…I don’t even know what. Everything.”

Damian chuckled as Ra’s stepped away.

“You’ll both catch your death out here if you stay much longer. And it would be rude of you to die before your own reception.” He called over his shoulder. Jon leaned back, staring after the old man in confusion. Ra’s grinned. “The al Ghul heir just married. Even I am not so cruel as to say that’s not a time for celebration.”

Damian took his hand, tugging him along a few feet behind Ra’s and Koru. Goliath stayed behind them. “Why do you think no one else was up here, Beloved? They were preparing the food for the wedding feast.”

The party was a blur. But the best night of Jon’s life.

There was music, and dancing. He danced with the women who dressed him, and even a few of the assassins who, literally a day before, had swords to his throat. Ra’s even shook his hand at some point in the evening, muttering a tender. “Love him properly, or I’ll rip your throat out with my own hands.”

He danced with Damian, and they both danced with the children. Jon watched in amazement as the kids swarmed Damian, presenting him with tiny gifts like a flower or drawing, or those cloth crowns they’d made him earlier. Smiled as Damian thanked each child individually, let them climb all over him and drag him this way and that.

He thought he understood why they called him their Prince now.

But the best part, the most magical part of the night, was when the party was over, and they went back to Damian’s quarters. When Damian lit all those candles again and then came to the bed and laid in his arms.

There was no sex. Jon probably wouldn’t have wanted it even if it were offered. There was just basking in the presence of each other. Staring at each other in the dim, warm glow of the candles. Holding hands that now bore matching rings. Holding each other.

“Beloved.” Damian whispered. Jon closed his eyes, and hid his face in Damian’s throat. Damian ran his fingers through his hair. “My dear Beloved.”

It was the best night of Jon’s life.

He stayed for another two weeks. He befriended many of those living in the compound, and helped where he could, where he didn’t think his morals would be tested. Painting the kitchen and planting in the greenhouse, not sitting in on treaty negotiations or looking over scientific blueprints like Damian was with Ra’s.

But two weeks still wasn’t long enough, and saying goodbye – that he’d call, that he’d visit whenever he could, that he’d still listen for his heartbeat every second of every day – still ripped his soul out.

And Damian had smiled, but Jon could see the pain behind it anyway.

Because they both knew that along with missing each other, it would be hard. Because Jon couldn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to tell anyone. Because Damian was his, and he couldn’t let anyone know he knew where he was. Where the League of Assassins was. Wouldn’t put him in that danger. Wouldn’t put those families and children he’d met and come to already love in that danger.

(Knew despite the acceptance of the marriage, if Damian got out of line, Ra’s would threaten Jon. Use Jon against Damian any chance he got.)

So he couldn’t brag about his husband. Couldn’t tell his parents he was married, couldn’t tell Dick, worried out of his mind, where his brother was. Had to lie about the ring on his finger. Yes, it was where you put a wedding band, but if he was married, he would have said something! Obviously! Besides, who would he marry? His last boyfriend disappeared into the wind!

And then most obvious problem. Jon was still a superhero. Damian the heir to one of the largest underground crime organizations in the world. Emergencies arose. Schedules were changed. There was never a promise of when they would see each other next. Never a promise that either of them would be alive tomorrow.

And that just sucked.

It was about a year and a half later, and Jon was sitting at his desk. The final bell had just rung on a Friday afternoon, and his students were gone for a long weekend. He just had to finish marking down the grades of Wednesday’s tests, schedule a parent-teacher conference or two and then put in that maintenance request to Phyllis, then he could go enjoy the long weekend himself.

A three-day weekend in the mountains sounded great right about now.

So he was a little embarrassed when the gentle knock on his doorframe made him jump. But the embarrassment was quickly replaced by surprise.

“Dick?” He asked incredulously.

Dick Grayson, newly minted mayor of Bludhaven, stood there, a smirk almost hidden by the beard around it. Jon still couldn’t get used to that facial hair, no matter how long he’d had it.

“Howdy, Jon.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Jon scrambled to his feet. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, fine.” Dick waved off, leaning against one of the desks. “It’d just…been a while.”

“I suppose…” Jon trailed off suspiciously. “But I’ve known your family long enough to know that no one just stops by without reason.”

Dick laughed. “You always did spend way too much time with Damian. Sounds like something he’d say.” That smirk widened. “How is he, by the way?”

Jon’s heart sputtered, but he kept his face the same. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, just like you. What’s it been, two years now?”

“Well, I mean. I just figured you’d seen him since then.” Dick shrugged nonchalantly. “With you being his husband, and all.”

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give the same lies as always, when Dick suddenly reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and skimmed it before showing it to Jon.

A marriage certificate.

Jon knew there was one. Knew Ra’s and his League was able to pull strings and get one expedited for their cliff side ceremony. He’d signed it, Damian signed it, Ra’s and Koru signed it. Then it was discreetly put into the United States’ system. No fanfare, no newspaper or tabloid announcements, no one knowing it was even there to look for either.

Jon closed his mouth and gulped. “…How did you find that?”

“Being a mayor gives you some privileges, I’ve found.” Dick hummed, even as Jon came around his desk and took the paper from his hand. “And I found myself missing my brother the other day, so I looked him up. Thought I might find some more recent activity or sightings. And here this was, right on the first page.”

They stood in silence. Jon staring at the paper and Dick staring at him.

“Dick, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked instantly, the hint of pain in his voice. “Why did you lie about that ring on your finger? Hell, why didn’t you tell us at the very least where he was?”

“Because Bruce stopped looking for him.” Jon said coldly. “And don’t defend him, Dick. You know he did. He stopped looking when that McGinnis kid showed up. And I don’t blame the kid, it’s not his fault, it’s just how Bruce is.” A deep inhale. “And then you know how Bruce is with Ra’s. He already had a feeling Ra’s took Damian, or Damian went with him, or whatever, so even if he found Damian, you know he would have gone in pissed off and wouldn’t have listened. Would have jumped to conclusions. Would have potentially hurt him.”

“…Okay, I’ll agree to that potential.” Dick admitted. “But, Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nobody could know, Dick. Nobody.” Jon said. “My parents don’t even know.”

“Famed investigative journalist Lois Lane doesn’t know?” Dick asked incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well maybe she does, I don’t know. But she took my word and hasn’t pushed the issue.” Jon shrugged. “If she and Dad are playing purposefully ignorant, that’s fine. That means Damian’s safe.”

“He’s not safe with Ra’s, Jon. I know you know that.” Dick countered.

“I do. And so does Damian. But he’s biding his time.” Jon explained. “He’s working from the inside. He wants to save the planet like Ra’s does, but he’s trying to manipulate the organization from within, make their methods more like Batman’s. Kinder.”

Dick shook his head. “He can’t do it by himself. He’s crazy if he thinks he can.”

“Well.” Jon smiled. A sad, lovesick smile. “Then he’s crazy.”

Dick frowned, ran a hand through his hair. “…I have to see him, Jon.”

“You can’t.” Jon stepped forward. “And you can’t tell anyone either.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because even if Bruce doesn’t make a move, word will get back to the League that they’ve been found.” Jon’s eyes widened. “And they’ll know it’ll be through me. They’ll know it’s because I spilled the beans and then Ra’s will punish Damian for it.”

Dick pressed his lips together.

“You know he will.” Jon breathed. “And until…until Damian can change the League or until I can convince him to come back, that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” A second to think. “And I’d hope it’s not one you would either.”

Dick turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“…On one condition.” Dick said after a moment. “You put me in contact with him.”

“What?”

When Dick looked back, he suddenly seemed like he’d aged ten years. “I just want to talk to my little brother again, Jon.”

Jon pursed his lips, spun that stone ring with his thumb.

Damian was going to kill him. It was a secure line for just the two of them. But…

“…Fine.”

Most of the time, people were sick of snow by mid-February. Jon wasn’t though. And despite the fact that his school district had called for a snow day, he was up at his normal time. Only instead of rushing to the school, he took a leisurely walk to a nearby coffee shop to give himself a little reward for once.

A nice caramel-chocolate latte with extra whipped cream.

He was just exiting the shop, deciding to go to the park to have his treat. Just glancing up into the gently falling snowflakes.

“Beloved?”

Jon spun around so fast, he almost launched his coffee into a nearby window.

“Dames?”

And it was, Damian stood right there, looking far too fashionable than any human had a right to be. A gray pea coat with a blue scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. Black leather gloves, one of which held a bouquet of flowers, dark jeans and black combat boots.

Jon’s heart soared.

“Dames!” He shouted, running at him and jumping into his arms. Damian chuckled, returning the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

“I had meetings in San Francisco yesterday, and decided to stop by on my way home.” Damian smiled as he pulled back, and presented the flowers. “It seemed that it would be…rude not to, given the occasion.”

Jon took the flowers. “Occasion?” He sniffed at the petals. “What’s the occasion?”

Damian blinked, then laughed. “Jon, I think you’ve been working too hard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Jon closed his eyes. “It’s not our anniversary, I know that.”

“You didn’t have a party with your students?” Damian asked. “Or, I suppose that tradition ends after elementary school.”

Jon racked his brain. “The…Super Bowl?”

Damian laughed again. “Valentine’s Day, Beloved.”

“Oh my-” Jon gaped. He glanced into the coffee shop’s window. Paper hearts adorned the walls in decoration. “Oh my god. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

Damian laughed for a third time, reeling Jon into his arms.

“I can’t believe I forgot Valentine’s Day.” Jon lamented, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Divorce me, Damian. I forgot Valentine’s Day.”

“Never.” Damian said warmly. “I know your classes were cancelled today. Have any other plans?”

“Honestly, I was just going to watch cartoons all day.” Jon admitted sheepishly. “But now I just want to spend all day with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

“…How long are you in town?” Jon whispered. “How long can you be in town?”

“Two days.” Damian returned, with a kiss to Jon’s forehead.

“Then we better make it count.” Jon decided, leaning up and capturing Damian’s lips with his own. When he allowed Damian to pull back, he smiled. “Hope you like take out.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because baby, you are not leaving my bed for the next forty-eight hours.”

Once more, Damian laughed as Jon clutched his flowers and coffee to his chest in one hand, grabbed Damian’s hand with the other, and all but dragged him down the street.

The phone rang in the middle of the night.

Jon didn’t jump, phone calls in the middle of the night weren’t new. And he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. He supposed it didn’t really matter. If they had his number and they were calling now, it was enough.

Still, when he hit answer, he couldn’t help but slur, “Hm?”

“It’s me.” Damian whispered, his voice trembling. He seemed to hesitate, thinking what he was going to say next. “It’s done.”

Jon sat up. “Sweetheart?” He asked. “What’s done? What’s wrong?”

“Ra’s is dead.” Damian said simply. “I…I am now the sole leader of the League of Assassins.”

“Oh, Damian.” Jon cooed. He threw his covers back. “Give me thirty minutes, okay? I just need…I need to grab some pants and I’ll be there.”

And he was. In less than thirty minutes, really. Closer to twenty.

Koru was waiting for him at the compound entrance. He nodded solemnly, then silently led Jon to where he needed to be.

Jon could hear people wailing in the distance. Word must have spread already. And he’d forgotten – Ra’s was a monster. A villain. Evil.

But he meant something to the people here.

Koru led him to a large, ornate door. He opened it, and gestured for Jon to go inside.

The room was dark, but it didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t already see him standing next to that bed, the sound of his heartbeat would have guided him.

He only glanced at the dead body. It was Ra’s alright, and even without the lack of a heartbeat, Jon could tell by the color of his skin he was gone.

But he didn’t care, if he was honest. Never cared about that old man, never cared about what he was doing so long as it was held in check. He only cared about Damian.

Jon stepped up behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist, pulled him back into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Damian shrugged. “We knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Jon tried. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“There was no love lost between Ra’s and I, so there’s no need.” Damian pushed back. “I just…wasn’t ready.”

Damian pulled away and turned towards him.

“I…I didn’t have enough time to gain the loyalty I needed.” Damian sighed. “Many…many here do not trust me. Or do not believe in me.”

“I believe in you.” Jon offered.

Damian smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, Beloved, your opinion does not matter to the assassins now under my rule.” The smile disappeared. “I’ve already been visited by one of my grandfather’s most loyal scientists. He and I have never agreed, and he’s never trusted me. I sense that will get worse in the coming days.”

Jon frowned. “Do you want me to stay? In case he tries anything?”

“He won’t. He’d be stupid to do anything during these days of mourning.” Damian promised. “And Koru is more than capable. I am more than capable.”

“I’d feel better if I did, though.” Jon shrugged. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Damian’s eyes suddenly twitched over Jon’s shoulder. Jon turned and found an older man passing by the door. He had white hair, and wearing an odd metal suit of armor.

The man glanced in at him and frowned at Jon. Seemed to frown at Damian too. But he didn’t say anything, just continued on his way.

When Jon turned back, Damian was looking at him again, his face warm. “You’re too sweet, Beloved.” He gently took Jon’s hand. “Now come. Since you’re here, you can stay for the funeral at dawn.” A snorted smirk. “Superman attending the funeral of Ra’s al Ghul. Isn’t the world a funny place?”

Jon was woken by a rapid knocking on his apartment door. Damian must have heard it too, as he was suddenly trying to burrow into Jon’s side.

“I’m going to buy your building a doorman.” Damian mumbled as Jon reluctantly rolled away from him. “So then no one can knock on your door. Ever.”

The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Jon shouted as he yawned. “I’m-”

“Hurry up, bro!” Jon froze.

That was Conner.

“Just give him a minute.” Another voice scolded.

Tim.

“Fuck.” Jon whispered, spinning around. Damian was still curled up in his bed, only half hidden by comforter. Jon quickly ran from the room, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. He fell into the front door, opening it only enough for his face to show. “…Hey guys.”

Conner grinned. “Mind if we come in? We just had a killer patrol, and we’re starving.”

“Uh…” Jon hesitated. But before he could answer, Tim pushed his door open for him. “…Well, I guess.”

“Conner’s not lying. We’re starving.” Tim mumbled, bee-lining towards the kitchen. “I’ll reimburse you, I promise.”

As he shoved his head into the refrigerator, Conner smiled apologetically, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “How you been, Jonno? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m…good.” As Conner went into the kitchen himself, Jon glanced back to his bedroom door. “Summer vacation and all that.”

“I’d say you’re lucky if you got paid more during the school year.” Conner hummed around a piece of bread Tim handed him. “Doing anything for a second job this summer?”

“Just more patrols as Superman.” Jon shrugged. And more time at the League of Assassins compound in Nanda Parbat he didn’t say. “Some travel, if I feel like it.”

“You meet the new Batman yet?” Tim asked as he poured some orange juice. “Terry. He’s not bad.”

“No. Haven’t had the chance.” Jon mumbled. Hadn’t wanted to was the real answer. Because Damian was Batman to him, he still had that hope. Still believed Damian would return to the title one day, permanently. “So much for World’s Finest, huh?”

“Well, you know Bruce.” Tim shrugged. “He’s kind of hogging him anyway. We only see him at galas.”

“None of you work with him?” Jon asked. He tuned into Damian’s heartbeat for a second, found it still slow, so Damian was still dozing. He could only pray Conner didn’t use his same ability, and hear the same thing.

“Not really. We’re getting old.” Tim laughed. “I’m spending more time at Wayne Enterprises. Dick’s a goddamn mayor. Cass works at Steph’s practice. Jason’s doing…whatever Jason does.”

“But you’re working with Conner.” Jon smirked.

“I called in an old favor. Timmy can’t say no to me.” Conner grinned.

“Please.” Tim snorted into his glass. “I was bored.”

The two began to banter, and Jon found himself glancing back to his room.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell his brother, and someone like his brother, that Damian was there. That they were married.

That Damian was fucking alive.

And he wanted to bring it up. Wanted to bring Damian up. Ask if Tim remembered his brother, if they’d been looking for him still, if he cared at all. Or at least more than Bruce.

But he couldn’t risk that.

So he smiled and nodded and partook in the conversation, and didn’t mention a thing. Entertained the two for a half an hour or so before, luckily, they excused themselves first before he had to start leaving hints for them to leave.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he dashed back to his bedroom, only to find Damian still sleeping, only now taking up more of the mattress, arms spread side to side.

Jon blinked then laughed out loud as he walked forward and collapsed back into bed. Damian groaned as Jon twisted their legs together, and he began peppering kisses along Damian’s shoulder.

“…Has my brother left yet?” Damian whispered after a moment. Jon pressed his head against Damian’s.

“Mhm.”

“…Did you tell him anything?”

“If I did, do you think you’d still be in here peacefully sleeping?” Jon smirked. “Tim probably would have come in here just to kill you.”

Damian hummed.

“But alas.” Jon sighed dramatically, curling his arms around Damian’s one. “You’re still my dirty little secret, Mr. Demon’s Head.”

Damian never opened his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

“I think…I should feel insulted.”

Damian’s lips twitched up. “Most people would feel honored, I believe.”

“No, I mean.” Jon rolled towards the edge of the bed, glancing towards the drawing desk his husband sat behind. “You sent me a text that said ‘ASAP.’”

“I did.” Damian murmured, eyes following the tip of his pencil as he moved it across the paper.

“And here I came running because I thought you were in danger. That the mutiny you’re so concerned about finally happened.” Jon continued. He glanced at the candle nearest him, gently hovered his finger through the flame.

“That’s very kind of you, Beloved.” Damian glanced up, frowned. “Please don’t burn your finger.”

“But there was no emergency. You weren’t dying.” Jon sighed, flopping his hand down. He looked up through his lashes. “You just wanted to draw me.”

Damian smiled. “Like I said, most people would probably be honored.”

“I feel like I should be mad.” Jon muttered.

“In my defense, I did say as soon as possible, not right this instant.” Damian mused. “That was your interpretation.”

“Well, how am I supposed to stay mad at you, sitting over there looking like a…a goddamn angel in a wave of holy light?” Jon scoffed. “And you sit there worried about me burning myself? You bump one candle and your desk and drawings are all up in flames in an instant.”

“I doubt you’d let that happen.” Damian chuckled. “Now, despite your wiggling, I’m almost finished.”

“And what’s my payment?” Jon asked, stretching his leg in the air, curving his spine. He felt Damian’s heartbeat stutter a little. “For being your beautiful model?”

“Well, I hope some ice cream your so-called Grannies made when I informed them you were en route is satisfactory.” Damian suggested. “And…I can only hope my undivided attention is a suitable accompaniment.”

“I do love my Grannies and their cooking.” Jon agreed. He turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, gave Damian his most seductive grin. “And I definitely do love you a whole lot more.”

Jon watched the heat rise to Damian’s cheeks. The pencil suddenly began moving across the paper faster.

“I’m almost done.” Damian promised.

When he saw it was Bruce Wayne calling, his stomach dropped.

“Jon.” He’d murmured softly. “I…I found Damian.”

Jon blinked.

“What?” And it wasn’t a faked question. He felt his heart speed up. Because if Bruce, if Batman, found Damian and the League then-

“He’s…alive.” Bruce whispered gratefully. “He’s…leading the League of Assassins, and I’m working on that. But…but I just thought you’d want to know. He’s alive. He’s…okay.”

“I…I didn’t know.” Jon lied. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Bruce.”

“You were…you are so important to him.” Bruce sighed. “You deserve to know.”

“Can I…Can I see him?” Jon continued. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“I…don’t think that is a good idea. For now.” Bruce sighed. “But. One day, Jon. I promise.”

When they hung up, Jon immediately took to the skies for the Himalayas.

He found Damian on their wedding cliff. He was staring out into the emptiness again. Back straight, hands clasped at the small of his back.

Goliath stood nearby.

“Damian?”

Damian’s head lifted and he turned. Jon instantly took in the new cuts and bruises.

“Jon?” Damian immediately moved towards him. “What are you-”

“Your dad called.” Jon reached out when Damian got close enough. He ran his thumbs over a blossoming bruise on his cheek. “Told me…the basics.”

Damian smiled sadly.

“We…reconciled, I suppose.” Damian whispered.

“You suppose?” Jon asked gently. “You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“It’s…it’s what we’ve always said. He didn’t come after me. He didn’t care where I’d gone. He replaced me.” Damian breathed. “He…he only came here after McGinnis. When he thought I was going to kill him.”

“Well. You clearly proved him wrong. You didn’t kill anyone.” Jon paused, glanced back at Goliath. “Where’s Koru? He never lets you out of his sight.”

“He is…recuperating.” Damian sighed, trying to turn out of Jon’s hands. Jon didn’t let him. “He attacked my father for a grudge I was unaware of. I had to take him down. He then attempted to set off missiles that I’d decided against. He needs…time to think about some things.” Damian closed his eyes. “…I have no control.”

“You do.” Jon said. “You’re doing…amazing things here, Damian. I know it. Your dad knows it.”

He paused, to run his hand over Damian’s hair.

“I could tell when he called.” Jon offered. “He missed you.”

“He didn’t look for me.” Damian reminded.

“But he’s protecting you now.” Jon said. “He called to tell me you were alive. I played dumb, I asked if he would tell me where you were and he refused.”

“That’s not protection, that’s shame.” Damian countered.

“Damian, change takes time. You know that. I know that. Bruce knows that.” Jon squeezed his cheeks a little. “I don’t think he would have called me to tell me you were alive if he was ashamed.”

Damian shook his head. “I don’t know if I can change the League faster than the coming mutiny.”

“I know you’ll do everything you can.” Jon kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let them do anything to you. I swear.”

“…Thank you, Beloved.” Damian whispered.

“Mhm.” Jon murmured into his hair. “Now, come on. I’m making an executive decision. You need a break.”

Damian merely wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck as Jon lifted them into air and turned towards Metropolis. Goliath followed.

He should have been more alarmed when he heard the lock jiggle. Should have at least had his super strength ready.

But he’d had the flu all week. Him, having the flu. What the fuck.

“Just go ahead and kill me.” He whined as loud as he could. “Give the stuff in my fridge to my neighbor. I don’t want it to go bad.”

He heard the lock click and the door open, but didn’t even look.

“I might have some pizza you can heat up if you want.” He mumbled, closing his eyes. “If I even tried to eat it, it’s coming right back up.”

He didn’t hear anyone.

“If I puke on you, will you go away?” Jon drawled. “Oh wait, can you give me another blanket first? I’d like to at least be warm when you kill me.”

Suddenly there was a scoff, and blanket fluttering over him.

“Beloved, since when did you become so dramatic?” Jon looked up and felt tears well up in his eyes.

“Damian.” He cried. He reached a shaky hand up and Damian took it in his, kissing his knuckles.

“Hello Jonathan.” Damian smiled. “Still feeling bad?”

“Worse than when I called you.” Jon admitted. “You didn’t have to come all this way just because I’m puking.”

“Through sickness and in health.” Damian reminded. “It’s the same in all languages and religions.”

“Stop.” Jon called as Damian backed away. “Stop being so cute.”

Damian snorted. “You need fluids.”

“They won’t stay down.” Jon sighed. “…Wait, did I give you a key to my apartment?”

“No.” Damian hummed. “I could have just come in through the window, but I figured that might concern you. So I…called Grayson.”

“He has a key to my place?” Jon called. “Since when?”

“It’s Grayson.” Damian reappeared behind the couch, handing Jon a glass. “Probably since forever.”

“I hate your family.” Jon decided. “I barely even see them and I hate them.”

“I know.” Damian offered sympathetically. As Jon took the glass, Damian walked around the couch, and Jon found himself staring.

“What?” Damian asked when he noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in your evil leader garb.” Jon mumbled, gesturing to Damian’s green robes. “You didn’t change?”

“I came as soon as my meeting was over.” Damian shrugged. “So…I suppose I didn’t think about it.”

“…The Demon’s Head is making house calls.” Jon smiled weakly. “The new Ra’s al Ghul is going to make me soup.”

“Eventually, if you can keep that drink down.” Damian smiled, smoothing Jon’s blankets.

Jon felt his exhausted tears fall as he took a sip.

It was like out of a movie.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and gave a fake name to the hotel concierge. The man typed in the name, stared at the screen, then smiled, and handed Jon a key.

He took the elevator, inserted the key for the private floor, and stood in the corner. Smiled to the couples and families who stepped on and off on various floors. Tapped his finger against the lining of his pocket.

And when the lift opened into the penthouse apartment, Jon almost fainted. Almost swooned right then and there.

Damian sat in the breakfast nook, practically glowing in the early evening sun that shone through the window. He wore nothing but a silken robe, open at the chest, a book open on his crossed knee and a cup of tea in his hand.

“Damian.” Jon whispered carefully. Damian looked up and smiled. Sweetly, welcoming. “You’re going to need to put that tea down.”

He barely gave Damian the second he needed to that before he crossed the room and swept him up in his arms, all but throwing him onto the nearby bed.

Damian grunted as he bounced, but gave a laugh as Jon crawled up his body. “And here I thought you’d want to eat first after your flight.”

Jon just grinned and kissed him as hard as he could.

And that’s where they’d been now, for hours. The sun had set, but Jon had never gotten off of Damian. Not that Damian had let go of Jon himself.

“One more.” Jon whispered into Damian’s neck, remarking a hickey on Damian’s next that was already dulling. “One more round.”

“Oh?” Damian hummed sleepily, fingers locked on and tugging at Jon’s hair, the other arm was tight around Jon’s waist, just above where his ankles hooked together. Jon glanced up at Damian’s amused eyes. “I didn’t realize the last round ended.”

Jon bit at his throat, and thrust his hips at the barb. Damian groaned, his leg twitching involuntarily in pleasure, digging into Jon’s spine. He released Jon’s hair and ran his hand down to his chin, tipping Jon’s face up until he could kiss him properly. Jon smiled as Damian tried to devour him, tried to act like he was the one in control.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

Jon shifted his weight upwards, changing the rhythm of his movements, drinking in every sound Damian tried to hide. He carefully took the hand Damian had under his chin and intertwined their fingers, pushing the hand into the mattress. Damian tried to push back, but Jon decided he wanted to cheat, just a little, and used his super strength to keep his hand down.

Damian noticed. Growled quietly, “You asshole.”

Jon looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. “You like it.”

Damian bit his lip, lowered his eyes. Jon felt him dig his nails into his hip. That was as much of a yes as he was going to get.

And that was fine. That was good. Because Jon wasn’t lying, he wanted this to be the last round. He was getting a little bit tired, and he could tell Damian was too.

Besides, sex was cool. Sex with his husband was great. But it wasn’t even his favorite part.

The afterglow. The cuddling. The staring into Damian’s eyes and seeing the universe. The warmth of his skin as he held him in his arms. The gentle sounds of them saying just how much the other means to him.

And they’d been at it for hours. They were slow, they were fast, they were desperate, they were sensual.

So he’d hoped he’d be forgiven for rushing now, ready for it to end. He bucked quickly, bordering on faster than the speed of sound, needed to stay in his head enough not to do that, not hurt Damian beyond pleasure, but he kissed slowly. Carefully.

Adoringly.

When Damian tugged his hand away, Jon let him. Felt his heart pound as Damian wrapped his arms around Jon’s neck, held him as close as their skin would allow.

They came together.

Jon collapsed onto Damian’s chest, shifting only enough to pull out. Damian kept his arms tight around Jon’s shoulders, his hand returning to stroke at Jon’s hair.

“There is a warm bath ready for whenever you’d like it.” Damian whispered. “And room service. We just have to call the front desk.”

“Hm.” Jon smiled. He found himself pressing more kisses to Damian’s throat. “I’m good right here with you.”

Damian laughed. “Jonathan, we’re disgusting.”

“I’m okay with that.” Jon hummed into Damian’s skin.

Damian snorted and rolled them to the side. He held the side of Jon’s face, staring into his soul.

“Happy anniversary, Beloved.”

It was silly, and he was ashamed of himself.

Like, jeez, he was almost thirty, and here he was in the middle of the night, drowning in insomnia because he missed his husband.

Well…there were other things. But it was mostly that.

He rolled to his side, grasping for his cell phone even as guilt coiled in his gut.

The line rang only once. “Hello, Jonathan.”

“Hi.” Jon muttered. “You busy?”

“No.” Damian sounded amused. “It’s only seven in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Jon sighed. Timezones sucked. “Can you…video chat?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Hang on.” Jon said a little too quickly than he meant. He pulled the phone away and tapped a few buttons. An instant later, Damian filled the screen.

He was still in his pajamas and dressing gown, but he sat at his drawing desk, the phone propped up on the top corner. When he realized the connection was made, he smiled. “Hello.”

Jon gave him a tight smile. “Howdy, handsome.”

“Is everything okay?” Damian asked immediately. “You sound…sad.”

“I miss you.” Jon mumbled into his pillow. “It’s been months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Damian sighed. “I’ve been swamped.”

“It’s not all your fault. I could fly out there any time.” Jon flopped back. “But being Superman…”

“Is far more important.” Damian finished for him. “I understand.”

“Cases haven’t been great lately.” Jon continued. “I haven’t really been saving the day real well.”

“But I know you did your best.” Damian soothed. “…Is there anything I can to make you feel better?”

“Come here?” Jon tried.

Damian laughed. “Anything reasonable?”

Jon glanced around his screen. “Are you drawing right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon smirked. “Draw me a picture.”

“And what would you like a picture of?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sighed. “A puppy.”

“A puppy.” Damian snorted. “Alright.”

He flipped over whatever he was working on and instantly the pencil started flitting around the page.

“I really do miss you, though. More than being bummed about the bad cases.” Jon sighed. “I think I’m just lonely.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Damian agreed. “Would you like me to have Grayson come visit you?”

“Nah, he’s busy.” Jon waved off. “I can call my own friends. Eventually.” He paused, listened to the pencil. “…What do you do when you’re lonely?”

“Call you.” Damian smiled. “And when you don’t or can’t answer, I call Maya while I draw you.”

“You draw me? When I’m not there?”

“Of course. I have an entire folder.” Damian admitted, turning his page. His hair, still unkempt from sleeping, fell into his eyes. “Koru calls me obsessed.”

“You’ve never shown me this folder.” Jon pouted.

“Because I was embarrassed.” Damian admitted. “And sometimes the children take the sketches as coloring pages.” Damian’s eyes widened a little bit, a blush dusting his cheeks. “The…less lewd ones, anyway.”

“Oh my god, if you want me to sext you, just ask.” Jon teased, the tension in his heart releasing a little.

“I prefer the real thing.” Damian chuckled. He made a few more lines across the page, then picked it up, twisting for the camera. “How’s this?”

It was a Dalmatian, with large dark spots and big eyes. Floppy ears and a doggy grin.

“It’s perfect.” Jon smiled. “Send it to me so I can color it?”

Damian snorted. “Sorry, it’s only available for pick-up.”

“Okay. I’ll come get it soon.” Jon yawned. “…Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need your rest.” Damian hummed.

“…Draw me to sleep?” Jon asked. He felt pathetic, like he was begging.

“Of course.” Damian nodded, reaching for another piece of paper. “Want me to tell you a story as well?”

“Sure.” Jon sighed. “Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Not that exciting, but if you wish.” Damian nodded.

Jon closed his eyes, and drifted off to the sound of a scratching pencil and Damian’s soft voice.

Jon was in the middle of class, when he got the sense something was wrong. He tripped over the cord of his overhead projector, and his students laughed, but he told them to get an early start on their homework as he scrambled to his desk.

He checked all the news sites, but there didn’t seem to be anything urgent. No mention of his parents or friends. No catastrophe or apocalypse. Everything was fine.

But then he tuned in to Damian’s heartbeat. And everything was not fine.

It was slow and weak. And Jon had heard that sound before.

He’d heard the sound of someone dying before.

He jumped to his feet and out of the classroom, ignoring his students’ calls after him. He ran to the principal, rambled about a personal emergency, then was gone before his boss could ask any questions.

Jon waited until he was off campus before he took to the skies.

But there was a problem, he realized, as he neared Nanda Parbat. He could still hear Damian’s heartbeat, he was still alive, but it…it wasn’t here. The heartbeat was far away. Faint.

He slowed above the League compound, hesitating. He could see men running around, shouting, loading into airships.

He could also see a trail of blood, leading away. He could see where the trail ended, at a mess of claw marks.

Goliath.

There was blood. There were marks from Goliath. Damian was dying.

Where would Goliath take him?

It took him two seconds to realize.

Gotham.

Jon spun around and took off for a second time.

He knew he was on the right path when Damian’s heartbeat got louder. But it didn’t bring any comfort, because it didn’t sound like it was getting any stronger.

As he reached Gotham airspace, he got a glimpse of Goliath, flying behind some black dot, heading towards Wayne Tower. So he didn’t think. Didn’t decide. Let instinct take over and followed them.

He saw the assassins coming in the distance, and he felt his anger grow.

The mutiny must have happened. Damian’s worst fear.

He balled his hand into a fist.

He would not let them hurt him.

He burst into the building, hot on Goliath’s tail. He landed and slid across the tiles, destroying them completely. The black dot, Batman, spun around, stepping in front of Bruce, who had appeared in the room.

“What happened?” Jon bellowed.

“Jon?” Bruce asked. “How did you-”

“What. Happened?” Jon repeated. He glanced at Goliath, Damian limp in his arms. Blood oozed from wounds all across his body. He was unconscious. “…Can you save him?”

Bruce looked over. “…Yes. Goliath, over here. To the recovery tank.”

And Jon never felt so helpless as now, as he watched Terry McGinnis help Goliath lower Damian into water that looked far too much like Lazarus. As little robots swarmed his body.

He stood next to the machine, wishing more than anything that he could stick his hand in the liquid and hold Damian’s.

“…How long?” Bruce suddenly asked. Jon twitched and looked up at him. Batman and the little boy who Jon only just now noticed were tending to Goliath.

“What?”

Bruce pointed to Jon’s hand, to his ring. He pointed to the matching one on Damian’s hand. “How long?”

“…Seven years.” Jon murmured tiredly. “We eloped in Nanda Parbat.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone.” He tilted his head in a wince. “…Dick only found out on accident.”

“Dick knew?” Bruce asked. Jon nodded.

“I swore him to secrecy. I’m…kind of surprised he followed through.” Jon admitted. “I…you two were on bad terms. I didn’t want you going in there and potentially starting a war. Potentially hurting each other.”

“We saw each other last year.” Bruce whispered.

“I never stopped him from telling you. That was his choice.” Jon added. “…How did you not notice the ring then? Damian said he never takes it off.”

“He wore gloves the whole time.” Bruce shrugged. “It wasn’t something I was looking for.”

Terry reappeared then, and he and Bruce began to talk about the situation at hand. The city currently being overrun with assassins.

Jon didn’t care.

He had just crossed his arms, was tapping on his forearm, when suddenly, Damian burst from the water in a frenzy. He was screaming and disoriented, and he set his sights on the new Batman.

“Kill.” Damian hissed. Bruce tried to grab for him, but he was too slow in his old age, and missed. But that was fine. That was cool.

Jon was between Damian and Terry in a millisecond.

“I’ll…kill…” Damian breathed, fist still ready. Jon just smiled, and took his face in his hands.

“I’d like to see you try.” Jon mused, leaning down to kiss him. Damian instantly became putty in his hands.

“…You’re with family.” Bruce offered behind them, as Damian’s mind seemed to catch up. His spine straightened, and he reached out to hold Jon’s waist. “You’re safe.”

Jon pulled back, but continued to hold his face as he repeated, “You’re safe.”

“Well. For now.” Terry interjected. “Mind telling us what the hell is going on, so we can maybe save the world?”

Damian sighed, stepping away from Jon. But not too far. Not far enough where Jon couldn’t immediately hook their fingers together. “His name is Zeh-ro. But some call him Mr. Zero…”

It was kind of cool, if Jon thought about it. There was a short ice age. Dick showed up, his daughter too. Damian played well with others. And Zeh-ro was taken down, his plan destroyed.

The Earth saved. Millions upon billions of people were saved.

“The League is yours again.” Jon hummed, watching Matt jump around the roof with Goliath. “…So, I take it you’ll be leaving again soon?”

“…Well, not necessarily.” Damian shrugged. “I mean, Nanda Parbat was turned into a launch pad, and is currently unlivable. The families there have been moved to safer ground, and those remaining loyal to me are all here or protecting the families, so.” He looked at Jon. “You’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Great.” Jon smiled. He stepped to the side, winding one arm around Damian’s waist. “Better than great, actually.”

“Oh?”

“In fact, the longer you’re here, the more time I’ll have to think up a plan to keep you with me forever.” Jon smirked, bouncing his nose off Damian’s cheek. Damian laughed, and leaned into him. Jon looked across the roof. He could see Dick glancing their way as he spoke with Bruce, a warm grin on the old man’s face himself. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who might be happy with that.”

Damian looked over himself. “…You’re all a bunch of old, sentimental fools.”

“…I’m younger than you.” Jon reminded.

Damian pursed his lips. “Old, sentimental fool.”

Jon laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the city. Goliath responded with a happy roar of his own. Damian smirked as the McGinnis brothers, Graysons and Bruce laughed too.

It was a good day.

“…Welcome home, Damian.” Jon whispered.

Damian sighed, taking hold of the hand Jon had on his hip and leaning into his chest. “Thank you, Beloved.”

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami

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