Bully - Part 2 Of 3
Bully - Part 2 of 3
warnings: controlling parents, very brief smut
taglist: @bbyhargrove @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @shamidreamer @180-fuck-me @rosey96 @hargrovesswifee @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch
A routine has fallen in to place, Billy’s at your locker every morning with that arrogant smirk on his face and his hand out to ‘steal’ the Hostess snack from you. Little does he know, you started buying two instead of one and more days than not, you buy Snoballs for Billy because you’ve learned they are his favorite of the Hostess variety. You never buy a Ding Dong again, still feeling incredibly embarrassed at the dirty joke he’d made but you switch it up sometimes so he doesn’t suspect you’re buying it solely for the purpose of him. As it turns out, you like the attention you’re getting from him, even if it isn’t very nice attention.
Almost every night the past few weeks, your hand sneaks into your pajama pants as images of Billy flood your mind. You don’t know how to touch yourself, no idea where to even begin but you firmly press your palm against your vagina over your underwear as you think about Billy’s face and his voice. His voice excites you most. You do that until you fall asleep and the stickiness on your thighs has been annoying but not as bed as having to hide your underwear in the morning, afraid of your mother finding it and flipping out about you being a slut or something. You don’t know if liking Billy in this way makes you a slut but you still feel ashamed every time.
“What’s up, loser?” Billy’s voice coats your ears as you begin dialing in your code. The words are meant to be cruel and Billy curses himself for how flirty his tone comes out, glancing around to see if anyone heard.
“Good morning,” you tell him, unzipping your backpack and grabbing the packet of Snoballs and sliding them into his palm.
“You’re like obsessed with these,” he comments, raising an eyebrow. He gives your face another once over and then asks, “What’s that all over your face?”
“It’s called makeup,” you reply, cheeks reddening. You’d put it on in the gas station bathroom and you’d have to wash it off there on your way home.
“You trying to impress some guy?” Billy asks and his tone sounds almost jealous, possessive. It makes your heart beat faster as you think, yeah, you.
“Who is he?” Billy asks pointedly when you don’t respond, looking around like the imaginary suitor could be nearby.
You shrug, taking pleasure in his apparent jealousy though you don’t understand it.
“Probably some other geek,” he snivels, pushing himself up from your locker and retreating down the hall. The interaction leaves you wanting more, craving for him to look at you like that again. It’s odd, though. You can’t fathom why he’s taken an interest in your social life other than to antagonize you for the lack of it.
As you’re walking to class, you see him grope Tina’s ass but his eyes are trained on you and the high pitched giggle she gives hurts your heart. You didn’t even realize they might be a thing. However, she is typically right behind him and making rude comments about your appearance when she can. You force yourself to ignore the jealousy coursing through your blood and get yourself to class.
-
Billy’s outside, smoking alone against the gym wall. He looks up as he hears a vicious laughter and sees you walking with your books pressed tightly to your chest. The laugher is coming from a tall brunette boy behind you, Billy thinks he’s a underclassmen, maybe a sophomore or junior. He takes a drag from his cigarette as he watches on curiously. He wonders if maybe this is the boy you’re wearing makeup for. The kid gets really close to your face, Billy tries to make out what he’s saying but it’s hard to tell from here. He feels jealous, wonders what makes this guy so special. Then the guy shoves your shoulders, causing you to drop all your books to the ground. Billy tenses, it’s like looking in a mirror but instead of the excitement he usually gets from seeing the anguish on your face, he’s incredibly angry. He’s pushing himself up off the wall just as the kids shoving you a second time, however this time, you fall to your knees and hands. Billy barrels over to the bully and you, he grabs onto your elbow and lifts you to your feet before grabbing a hold of the kids collar and shoves him against the wall.
“You like putting your hands on girls?” Billy growls and the kid whimpers and squirms beneath him. “You think you can just push her around?” he seethes, dropping the kids collar.
He winds up his fist, ready to knock the kids lights out when he hears your sniffling. Instead, he shoves the kid and tells him, “I fucking see you even look at her and you’re dead. You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” the kid says frantically, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll leave her alone.”
“Now get the fuck out of my sight,” Billy let’s go of his collar. The kid scatters away quickly but Billy doesn’t give him a second glance. He’s stalking over to you and grabbing a hold of your elbow and guides you to the parking lot, ignoring your confused protests. He opens the door to his Camaro and instructs you to sit.
He walks around and pops his trunk open, your eyes following him curiously. Your hearts racing, trying hard not to look at the scrapes on your knee. When you see blood, you panic and you’re already trying to hold back sobs. Billy standing up for you was strange, when you saw him walking over, you’d fully expected him to join in and then when you saw the absolute rage in his eyes. He walks back around and squats down in front of you, lifting a tiny red first aid kit and resting it between your legs. You suddenly feel self conscious, worried that from his angle he can see your underwear so you grab the hem of your skirt and try to cover yourself. Billy pops open the case and grabs out a small stack of antiseptic wipes. He rips open one with his teeth and locks his eyes on yours. Your breath catches in your throat, seeing Billy on his knees between your legs brings chills up the back of your thighs and you choke out a small sob, quickly bringing the back of your hand to wipe away the tears.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask, softly.
Billy begins cleaning up the wounds on your knees, the alcohol on the pads stings the sensitive skin and you hiss.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, “It could get infected if you don’t clean it.”
“No,” you hiccup, “why are you being nice?”
Billy sighs, reaching back into the case and pulling out the tube of Neosporin. He squeezes the ointment on his finger and gently coats the scratches with it. “What do you mean?”
With a sniffle, you continue, “Why do you care? Why did you yell at him?”
“Is that the guy you put all the makeup on for?” Billy looks back up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t get why you’re not thanking him for standing up for you, so he figures that must be why. “That guys a loser, you shouldn’t like him.”
“Huh? What? No, I don’t like him,” you mumble, watching as Billy puts bandages over the cuts. “I just mean, you’re always so mean to me, why are you being nice now?”
Billy closes the box up and looks back up at you, “I’m not mean to you.”
“Yeah, you are,” you argue, “You’re very mean to me. Now you’re acting like you care about me. I don’t understand.”
Billy stands up, looking down at you now. He leans his arm against the side of the Camaro as he peers into your eyes. From his view, the sun catches on your face beautifully even through the shine of your tears, Billy thinks you look gorgeous. He sighs and then mumbles under his breath, “I like you.”
“What?” you ask, unable to hear what he said.
“Nothing,” he groans, pulling you to your feet with a grip on your elbow. “You better get back to class, loser.”
“See?” you shriek, pointing at him. “Mean. You’re being mean, again.”
“It’s not mean,” he seethes as he crosses his arms.
You scoff, feeling your blood boil, “If it’s not mean, what is it? You think it makes me feel good when you call me names or trip me in the halls?”
Billy grins suddenly and it only makes you angrier, you don’t understand him at all. He’s the most confusing person in the whole world. Maybe that’s part of it for him, this is just all a part of his bullying.
“I’m not being mean,” Billy bites his lip and traps you against his car, placing a hand on either side of your shoulders, “I’m flirting with you, loser.”
“Flirt- what?” you look up at him incredulously.
You’ve never experienced someone flirting with you before. You’ve never in your life had a single boy show any interest in you but you didn’t think what Billy was doing was flirting. It kind of makes sense to you, though. Since the teasing had started, you began feeling certain things you’d never felt before, you found yourself looking forward to seeing Billy at school but every girl at this school thought he was cute and you thought so too, so you figured you just liked any attention from such a cute boy. Flirting wasn’t being mean though, was it? That’s not what you’d seen in movies or the romance novels your mom kept hidden in the laundry room. You’d tried to read them a handful of times but always got too embarrassed.
“Flirting,” Billy chuckles, “do you know what that is?”
“Yes!” you fumes, cheeks ablaze. “If you’re flirting with me then that means…”
Billy’s hand drops to your waist, curling around the flesh and squeezing, “Means what?”
You swallow the lump in your throat but it does nothing to help the words climb through. Billy seems to like the reaction he’s getting from you, his fingertips traveling up under your top and ghosting the sensitive skin. You panic, jumping from the touch and pushing his hand away.
“Do you like me?” Billy asks, dropping his hand to his side.
“I don’t know,” you whisper as you look down, embarrassed by the way his touch has made your legs feel shaky.
“You know,” he sings, hooking his knuckle under your chin and urges you to look back up at him. “How does it make you feel when I touch you?”
“Uh…” you swallow hard, eyes darting across the freckles decorating his nose and cheeks. He’s so pretty, his intense gaze has you hypnotized. You don’t even try any further to answer him.
Billy chuckles and steps away from you, “I’m just messing around with you.”
You grab your backpack and scurry off before he can say anything else. You hear his car start up as you’re rushing back to the school, not daring to look back at him.
-
“What happened to you?!” your mother exclaims when you walk through the door.
“Oh, I tripped,” you lie as you try to walk past her. She grabs a hold of your wrist and pulls you back.
“Is that makeup?” she inquires, her tone more sad than angry.
You bring your hand up to your cheek, realizing that you’d forgotten to wash it off on the way home and you’re certain that there’s trails of mascara staining your face. In the daze that Billy had left you in, you’d walked home like a zombie, thoughts clouded with his words, eyes and fingers.
“Momma,” you mumble, “I’m sorry. Some girls at school wanted to put it on me. I was trying to make friends.”
She peels your backpack off and dumps the contents onto the floor, seeing for herself that you were lying as the tube of mascara, lipstick and the tiny compact of blush fall out. Along with the Hostess snack you’d neglected.
“What has gotten into you?” she scolds, “Is it a boy?”
Visions of blonde curls, icy blue eyes and pink lips force their way into your head as you shake it. “No,” you mutter, “I’m just trying to fit in.”
“Acting like a whore is no way to fit in,” she bites back.
You sniffle, tears making their return and you find yourself wanting to run back out the door to find Billy.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, getting on your knees to collect your school items and shove them back into your backpack. You pick up the makeup and hand them to your mothers expecting hands. Without looking up, you know she’s stomping to the kitchen to throw them away.
“Go to your room,” she orders and you obey without a protest, shutting the door behind you and finding solace in your bed.
Curling under the covers and closing your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. You picture it’s Billy’s arms around you and you find yourself finally answering his question.
“Yes,” you whisper to the empty room. “It feels good when you touch me.”
You wonder what would have happened if you’d just answered him, would he have kissed you? His words before you left ring through your ears, I’m just messing around with you.
-
Your mom has started to pick out your clothes before school. The only dresses and skirts you’re allowed to wear are the ones that go past your knees. Billy’s noticed, thinks the way he approached you scared you and that maybe you were ashamed of the way he looked at you. So he does a complete 180, he stops antagonizing you but not only that, he stops talking to you all together. Which in turn has your self confidence plummeting. You assume it’s because you’re no longer wearing what you wanted to wear.
You’re eager to get his attention back. The first plan is to sneak one of your shorter skirts in your backpack and change into it when you get to school. You had to get crafty since your mom had taken to doing backpack checks before you left each morning. You folded it up as small as you could and volunteered to take the trash out, while you were outside you hid it in the neighbors bushes.
However, when you’re at school and you’ve changed into it, Billy’s eyes still don’t follow you like they used to. Even when you’re walking past him and Tommy in the hallway, you drop your pencil and bend over to pick it up but when you turn around, Billy’s not watching, he’s chewing his pinky nail and looks totally engrossed in whatever dumb thing Tommy is blathering about.
Determined, you start hiding skirts and low cut shirts in your locker, along with some makeup you’d purchased at the drugstore. You purposefully start walking by his car during lunch, where he’s lounging with his friends and you hope that his friends say something to you just so he’ll have a reason to look at you. It doesn’t work. Tina and Carol make comments but Billy’s eyes never fall on you. You’re getting more desperate by the day.
You’re beginning to gather the attention of other boys but it’s nothing compared to the way Billy used to look at you. They’re nervous in their approach, fiddling with their fingers and unable to hold eye contact. Billy’s all about eye contact, like he can see something in there. God, you’d give anything to meet those blues again. Still, you attempt to flirt back with the new suitors, trying to at least learn how but none of them flirt like Billy did. None of them make your heart beat so fast you’re afraid it’s gonna jump right out of your sternum. They don’t make your thighs feel warm and tingly. You don’t think of their faces and voices in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.
Phase two is in order, you decide. Buying a Snoball every morning and placing it delicately on Billy’s desk behind you in English class before he even walks in. Again, he doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t even look up at you but you hear him open the package and eat the sweets. You wish you weren’t so shy, wish you could turn around and demand his attention but him not rejecting the snack is a win, you think.
One day, it starts up again. In English class, you feel a little tug on your hair. First, you ignore it, certain it was an accident. Then, Billy twists a bigger chunk between his fingers and yanks your head back. You yelp, hands moving to cover your mouth the second the sound flies from it. You turn, Billy’s released his grip on your hair and is pretending to be really interested in something on the ceiling.
“Ms. Y/L/N,” the teacher scolds, “Is there a problem?”
You quickly shake your head, “No. Everything is fine.”
Rubbing the back of your head, you know your face is bright red from embarrassment but mostly from excitement. You weren’t sure why, but you were aroused at the feeling of Billy pulling your hair. You figure it must be from begging for his attention for weeks and finally getting something. It felt so good, you push your hair past your shoulders and onto his desk, urging him to do it again but he doesn’t. However, he knocks the book off your desk when the bell rings, turning to lock eyes with you as you bend down to pick it up, that arrogant smirk plastered across his face. You feel warm all over.
-
Billy was freaking out internally, the way your outfits got less and less revealing, he was worried he’d creeped you out so he panics and ignores you for weeks. He wasn’t good with rejection and that’s what this felt like. To be honest, he’d never truly been rejected romantically.
He notices the short skirt the first day you wear it, but he tells himself there’s no way it’s to catch his attention. Especially when he notices more and more boys talking to you. He figures that you didn’t wear it for him, but for some other boy. When you drop your pencil as you’re walking by, suddenly the rant Tommy’s spewing about his and Carol’s latest fight is the most interesting thing he’s heard. He gnaws on his fingernail and forces his eyes to stay glued to his friends face. He swears he hears you huff as you stomp away, but tells himself it’s wishful thinking. Your outfits get more and more revealing by the day and it drives Billy crazy but he’s a strong man, he refuses to let it get to him.
Then there’s a pack of Snoballs on his desk every day for a week and he’s convinced you’re trying your absolute hardest to tell him you like him without actually saying the words. And Billy likes playing games, so he still doesn’t say or do anything. He wants you to get so frustrated that you scream at him.
Little by little, he begins fucking with you. It starts with grabbing the handful of your hair and pulling your head back. It’s much more aggressive than he’d been in the past but you silently beg for him to do it again, pushing your hair over your shoulders and covering his desk with the strands. He pretends he doesn’t notice, folding his hands behind his head and actually listens to the teachers lecture, daring you to turn around and look at him. When you don’t, he decides he’s gotta do something else, a way to let you know he’s back. He pushes your book off your desk, smirking down at you as his eyes fall to the exposed cleavage as you bend over. The smile on your face tells him everything he needs to know.
The next day, he’s waiting at your locker and you weren’t anticipating it so you’re wearing the outfit your mother picked out. It’s a long skirt that goes to your ankles and a floral button up. You blush, seeing him standing there. You avert your eyes, focusing in on the dial and entering the code.
“Morning,” Billy says, “Hiding something?”
You roll your eyes, grabbing the skirt and shirt you’d hid in your locker and shove it into your backpack. “Be right back,” you mumble, rushing away to the bathroom.
When you exit, he’s still waiting by your locker but he lets his eyes drink in your new outfit. He particularly likes the knee high socks and it’s then that Billy realizes you must have strict parents and for whatever reason, that makes this all the more exciting. The fact that you’re breaking rules just to impress him makes his mouth water.
“You hide a closet in your locker?” he asks when you drop your backpack on the floor.
Blushing, you don’t give him the obvious answer but instead open your locker back up and shove the clothes you arrived in behind your textbooks. You pull out the Hostess snack and hand it to him, seeing the laugh rising in his chest before you hear it.
“Ding Dong, huh? You hinting at something?” he pockets the snack and grins at you.
“Maybe I am,” you admit, willing your cheeks to stay pale. You close your locker and lean against it, looking up at him. Billy bites his lower lip and in the moment, he doesn’t care if it looks like he’s chatting up the nerdiest girl in school. Doesn’t care if anyone notices or says anything.
“Can I pick you up around 8?” Billy asks and you almost shiver, stunned that your plan worked but incredibly nervous at the same time.
You jot down your address on a piece of paper, wondering if you’re exactly ready to lose your virginity on such short notice. However, you’re not sure you can go anymore time without Billy’s attention and you’re willing to get it by any means necessary. You wonder if maybe he’s not after that, but your mother says every man is and Billy is exactly like the boys she’d warned you about. Somehow, that excites you and you want to find out if she was right after all.
“I’ll see you at 8, loser,” Billy tugs on your pigtail before pushing himself off the locker and walking down the hall.
The name is becoming endearing, even if it’s not a nice thing to say to someone it still makes your heart swell. Your fingertips move up to wrap around your pigtail and you tug on it like he had, smiling as you watch him saunter away. Now the hard part, how were you going to sneak out of your house at 8 pm? Your parents were still awake then but they stayed in their room to watch TV, your mom would check on you around 9:30 but she never came into your room, just peeked in. You could easily make it look like you were in your bed.
Giddy with excitement all day, you bounce to and from class. Billy beats you to English class and he winks as you walk in, causing your heart to flutter while you make it to your seat. When you sit, he grabs a hold of your pigtail and pulls it.
“Don’t think I’ve seen such a big smile on your face before,” he comments when you turn to him. He rests his chin on his palm as he looks at you under his heavy eyelashes.
You blush, “You have to park like a block away from my house. Eight is kind of past my curfew.”
“Are you gonna get in trouble?” Billy asks, sounds like he’s actually concerned.
You shake your head, “Only if I get caught.”
Billy nods against his hand, his left hand lifts to grab the necklace you’re wearing and you look down as he gently caresses it.
The teacher closes the door and begins her instruction, you turn with her and focus your eyes up front. Billy won’t stop touching you. He fumbles with the collar of your shirt, traces his fingers against the back of your neck and arms. You have to squeeze your thighs together, gripping your pencil even tighter but you don’t want him to stop. These touches are even better, they’re soft and make you melt.
You’re surprised he’s doing this where eyes can catch it. Occasionally when you glance back, the look on his face makes your stomach tighten, he looks entranced. You don’t know it but he’s fantasizing about taking your clothes off and running his fingers along every inch of your body. When he suddenly stops, you turn to see him shuffling in his seat and he exhales softly, averting his eyes towards the clock in the classroom. You’re oblivious to the fact he’s trying really hard not to pop a boner in class.
Billy lingers after the bell rings and he waves to you, “Later, loser.”
“See you tonight.”
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What the past couple days have felt like
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞´𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.
In the 1950s, the Wayne family arrives at their new home on the outskirts of Gotham City. As the family settles in, the children—Dick and Jason—seek adventure and cause trouble while their mother tries to keep the house standing for the visit of special guests, all while also trying to hide her magical abilities.
Can they get through the first day of their new life while the father of the family is away on business?
chapters: 1 (you are there) - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - epilogue.
English is not my first language, please be patient. Update 1/25/2025: I did a review and correction of this chapter because I was starting to feel embarrassed, and it seems that you like this story because today I receive notifications of the publications. So I'm going to do a review of all the parts so that if you reread it, it will hurt your eyes less. Thank you very much for the love and I hope to improve with these corrections!!!
WORDS: 7243
𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.
You looked at your youngest son, Jason, smiling at you from under one of the trees on the new property your family had just moved into. You smiled back at him, genuinely happy, and held out your arms to him. The little five-year-old ran to you immediately.
That tree—you had to get him away from that tree.
“Mom, this new house is huge,” the boy said happily as you rested him on your hip, without worrying about ruining the neat ironing of your beautiful dress.
“It is,” you began. “Your father and I learned our lesson about you and your brother's incompatibility with small yards after the Halloween fire incident,” you explained, and the audience laughed at the past antics of the Wayne children. Jason smiled innocently as he thought about the incident, even if he didn't remember it. He had been very young at the time—surely that was why. “So, your father made sure there was plenty of room for both of you to run around in this new house.” You turned on the spot, starting to walk toward the house.
The scene changed, and you both appeared walking in through the kitchen door immediately. You walked over to the island and sat Jason there. He immediately reached over to grab the glass cookie jar in the center of the surface, eager to eat one of Alfred's famous cookies.
“Don’t eat too many of those, young Master,” the butler said as he appeared from an unidentified door. You smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason. “Tonight, we have guests, and I’m preparing some of the family’s favorite dishes,” the man commented while confiscating the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his appearance for him to eat.
You frowned in confusion.
“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.
“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne. Do you remember, ma’am?” the butler questioned before leaving through the door that led to the living room, without waiting for an answer.
You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face as if deep in thought. Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your expression, prompting laughter and tender sighs from the audience. Seeing him, you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.
“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“Nope,” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, eliciting even more tenderness from the audience. You couldn’t help but feel a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek, and your son just laughed happily at your actions.
Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you. The scene momentarily blinded the audience before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler and causing him to smile.
“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then,” you said, resting your hands on your hips and sighing dramatically. “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.
“Don’t eat too many of those, young Master,” the butler said as he appeared from an unidentified door. You smiled at him as he came to stand next to you in front of little Jason. “Tonight, we have guests, and I’m preparing some of the family’s favorite dishes,” the man commented while confiscating the cookie jar, leaving only the one cookie the boy had managed to grab before his arrival for him to eat.
You frowned in confusion.
“Guests?” you asked, puzzled, as you didn’t remember planning anything. Alfred, on his way to hide the cookies, turned to look at you.
“The guests Mr. Wayne asked us to entertain in his absence, Mrs. Wayne. Do you remember, ma’am?” the butler questioned before leaving through the door that led to the living room, without waiting for an answer.
You stood in place, bringing your hand dramatically up to your face as if deep in thought. Jason decided to interrupt his eating to mimic your expression, prompting laughter and tender sighs from the audience. Seeing him, you laughed too and leaned closer to your child.
“Do you remember which guests Alfred is talking about, my boy?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“Nope,” Jason replied sweetly, shrugging his shoulders, eliciting even more tenderness from the audience. You couldn’t help but feel a sudden urge to hug your beautiful baby tightly while kissing his cheek, and your son just laughed happily at your actions.
Alfred walked back into the kitchen as you lowered the boy from the counter to stand on the floor next to you. The scene momentarily blinded the audience before they saw the little boy run out of the kitchen with his cookie in hand, brushing past the butler and causing him to smile.
“I guess we have to prepare for those guests then,” you said, resting your hands on your hips and sighing dramatically. “Do you already know what you will cook for our guests, Alf?” you asked, intending to help.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Wayne,” the butler commented, walking over to you and standing behind you to begin pushing you towards the door where Jason had disappeared with his cookie. “I’ll take care of everything, and nothing will go wrong tonight. You just relax and spend some time with young master Jason.” When he reached the door, Alfred stopped pushing, expecting you to make it the rest of the way out of the kitchen alone, but you turned around and insisted.
“You don’t want any magical help; it will be easier this way. Besides, I already have my apron on,” you said, smiling and pointing at your outfit while making a gesture to emphasize your powers at the same time.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred said as he pushed you through the kitchen door.
You walked out with a push, but as you crossed the threshold, you didn’t stumble; instead, you walked calmly into an unmarked hallway and entered the living room. You looked back, confused by the strange change, but all doubt was erased from your mind when you saw your little one sitting in front of the television in one of the armchairs. You sighed loudly.
“That man has always been very territorial about his kitchen,” you commented, and the audience laughed. As you walked toward the armchair, Jason looked at you when he heard you approaching. “Jason Peter Wayne,” you exclaimed without any aggression, more amused by the chocolatey mess on your son's face than angry. He looked at you with puppy eyes in response. “My little boy and his precious chocolate cookies,” you said accusingly. With a dramatic gesture of both hands, Jason's face was clean again, the crumbs on his lap and the armchair disappeared, all accompanied by a sound of bells to represent magic.
“My mother and her magical magic,” the child said mischievously, prompting the audience to laugh again as you shook your head at his behavior, not stopping to look at him lovingly. You had missed him, which was strange because you didn't remember being separated from him much since he had come to you.
“Jason, honey,” you began, realizing that something was missing from the scene. “Do you have any idea where your brother went?” you asked, suddenly worried about the fate of your eldest son.
“I saw him looking for his comics in his new room a while ago,” Jason answered, and at that instant, a knock was heard, followed by a childish cry. Alfred appeared down the hall, attracted by the noise, while you quickly marched towards the threshold on the other side of the room, leaving Jason with the butler behind.
You entered a sort of entrance hall, featuring the main door of the house, some decorative furniture, and a coat rack with four coats perfectly hung—one for each member of the family, the largest being Bruce’s. Bruce was on a business trip. On the other side of the threshold were stairs leading to the second floor, where you found your eldest son, his comic book abandoned at the foot of the last step, and him curled up with a bleeding knee a little higher up.
“Dikie, my dear,” you quickly approached him, crouching down in front of him while you examined his wound. “What happened?” you asked while sitting next to him to hug him against your side. Seeing that his crying did not stop with your presence, he did not answer immediately and kept sobbing. “Alfred!” you called, not too loudly because it was not necessary, and it worked. Immediately, Alfred crossed the threshold through which you had just come. “Bring the first aid kit,” you told him, and he nodded before disappearing again.
While all this was happening, Dick's mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. He didn’t understand the world around him, its size, and its lack of colors. Why had he been running up the stairs in the first place? He couldn't remember, and that scared him. Contradictory ideas of what had happened crossed his mind until he finally saw the comic lying at the foot of the stairs, and it occurred to him.
“I-I found my—my comic and…” he began to say between sobs, but he was unable to finish piecing together the events of the day. Realizing this, you decided to finish the sentence for him while you caressed his hair affectionately.
“And so much excitement in one day made you decide to run down the stairs?” you asked, and the boy pulled away from you to nod as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his extremely expensive wool sweater.
“My knee hurts,” he commented with a soft voice, looking where his hand was, which was where he assumed there must be a wound. As if summoned by his words, Alfred appeared with a small medicine briefcase.
“Here you are, Mrs. Wayne,” he said as he handed you the object, which you were sure was red but wasn't.
"Let's see what we have here," you said, and as you opened it, you found just what you needed: a bandage with drawings of birds. "Perfect," you said, smiling as you left the now-empty suitcase to proceed to put the bandage on the wound. Dick didn’t see any blood or a wound at all; his mother wouldn’t let him get hurt. Still, he went along with the story and looked at his mother.
You were beautiful. He had always thought you were the prettiest mother in the world, along with… another person. His father couldn’t agree more, and if he saw you now, he would probably drool, which he and Jason made fun of him for. Jason, his little brother.
What had happened to Jason?
As if Dick's thought were an alarm, the little boy with curly hair and a cheerful smile entered through the same doorway Alfred had come through, looking at his brother with a worried expression. A sudden wave of relief washed over Dick because Jason was there, safe and sound, walking quickly toward him when he saw that his older brother was distraught. But it was strange to see him like that, so young, that for a moment he wondered if it was really Jason. But looking into his eyes, it was unmistakable that this five-year-old boy was his younger brother. There was no doubt.
"Are you feeling better, Dikie?" you asked affectionately when you noticed how your older son’s body relaxed when his younger brother appeared in the room. You mentally chastised yourself for not having brought him earlier; surely Dick had been worried that his brother was okay. You caressed his back as you looked at him carefully.
"I..." Dick was silent for a moment. He looked at you and then at his little brother, and then he realized something. "I'm fine. Everything is fine, Mom," he finally said, looking at you, feeling completely comfortable being there and happier than he had been in a long time.
You smiled at your son when you realized that the three of you were finally together, with Alfred watching from the doorway with a mixture of emotions that he didn’t let you see.
Dinner was underway; Alfred, as always, was on time for the arrival of the guests, while you were in Jason's room, helping him finish putting on his elegant sweater for the occasion. Dick came through the door already fully dressed. The eight-year-old boy didn’t need your help getting dressed, but no doubt you had helped him choose his clothes—that’s how you always did.
“Mom,” Dick called while in his brother's room, somewhat confused by the situation but not letting that feeling of relief and heady calm go. He liked that feeling.
“Yes, honey?” you turned around, causing the new dress you had put on for the occasion to flourish in the air with elegance. As soon as you laid eyes on your eldest son, you had to contain a small “aww” at how cute your little man looked. “Look at you, my little bird.” You approached him, bending down to adjust his jacket so he could hide the suspenders, leaving only a little of the shirt visible. “One day you are going to be a heartbreaker,” you commented, wrinkling your nose with tenderness.
“Mom,” Dick grumbled sheepishly, looking down as his cheeks turned pink, though no one could see the color yet.
“Is Dick going to be a jar breaker?” Jason asked from where he was sitting on the bed, causing the audience to laugh.
"No, Jaybird," Dick began, turning away from his mother and walking over to his brother's bed to sit next to him. "Heartbreaker, as in hearts," he explained patiently as Jason watched him intently, hanging on every word his older brother said. It reminded Dick of when he used to look at him while they both... they used to...
"That means," you sat across from Jason, watching as your son left his place inside his mind to return to the moment, "that your brother will have a lot of girlfriends and boyfriends one day," you explained to him while you tucked a rebellious strand that had fallen on the forehead of your youngest son back in its place.
"Is that good?" he asked, confused. "Because Alfred always gets mad when we break his jars." The innocent tone caused the audience, you, and Dick to laugh. As they did, Dick remembered why he had gone to find his mom in the first place.
“Mother?” he asked. You stopped laughing and gave him that look you always give when you want to say: Tell me anything. You can tell me anything and ask any question without fear. “What's so important today?” he asked curiously.
“Oh!” you exclaimed as you put your hands on your lap, thinking about what to say because the truth is you weren't very sure what tonight's dinner was about. “Well, it's a very important dinner for your father,” you commented with confidence.
“Why is this dinner important to Dad?” Jason asked, now concentrating on the reason for the conversation because he wanted to know too. He puzzled you with the question as well, because you weren't too sure either.
“Well, your father invited some very important people to dinner,” you stated as confidently as you could. If you showed that you didn't know what was going on, your children would panic, and you wanted them to feel safe. They were safe as long as they were there with you.
“Who are the guests?” Jason asked, immediately followed by his older brother.
“And why are they so important?” Dick spoke. Jason nodded at his brother's question, showing his approval.
“Well…” you weren't sure what to say.
“Is it for a birthday?” Jay asked.
“No, it's not anyone's birthday,” you clarified, more to yourself than to the children, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle before explaining to your children the importance of the occasion.
“Is it an anniversary?” Dick asked now.
“No, it's not that either,” you said, putting your hand to your chin while you thought. The audience laughed.
“A holiday?” the elder asked again.
“Is it because of the ‘adult business’?” Jason asked, disappointed. He hated the adult business meetings they had when Bruce was home, and immediately a light went on in his head.
“Yes,” you said, happily soothing, looking back at the children. “It's certainly a business meeting, so you must behave yourselves.” You bent down and finished arranging your youngest son's hair. “Okay?” You looked at them seriously; your children had a habit of getting into trouble when these meetings happened, mainly because they were bored.
“Yes, Mom,” they both said in chorus, which brought a smile to your face.
“Okay,” you finished the conversation about dinner. “Dick, can you help your brother put on his shoes while I go prepare the table for our guests?” you asked, and the boy silently nodded in response. “Perfect, I'll see you when you're ready,” you said as you left the room.
Dick and Jason stood there in silence for a moment. Dick wasn't sure what to do, first because he didn't know where you kept Jason's shoes, and second because he felt lost without you there; you were the main story of the show, so he wasn't sure what was next. Jason was the one who would be in charge of guiding him quickly.
“Dick,” called the younger brother.
“Yes, Jason?” asked Dick, somewhat confused by the mischievous gleam in his little brother's eyes.
“I saw Alfred go with the cookie jar back to the kitchen to hide it,” he began, as a smile spread across his face. Dick smiled back as he nodded at the silent implication of that phrase. He now knew what they must do.
In the dining room, a room with a large window facing the patio and a table with eight chairs, you used your magic to make the plates fly to the table, followed by the utensils and the wine glasses. You were preparing only five places at the table because Alfred had insisted on not being part of the dinner tonight so that he could attend to the important guests in the best possible way, and you were not one to argue against the butler's wishes.
You had barely convinced him to let you set the table for dinner. He was very adamant that you should spend time with your kids for some reason; he probably just wanted to rest from the stressful move. Yes, it was probably just that.
DING DONG.
“The guests are here,” you said to yourself, making sure to place the last flowers in the vase on the head table. They were white roses, and then you smoothed down the front of your dress before walking into the room.
You were nervous because you still didn't know who these guests were and what they wanted, but you were confident that if Bruce had sent them, it would be fine. So, you smiled as you entered the entrance hall to receive the couple. It was a plump, white-haired couple in their fifties, but they seemed to be in good shape, and particularly the woman looked like she had a lot of energy; her print dress complemented her image. The man seemed serious, like all businessmen; he didn't even smile when you greeted him and invited them to sit in the living room while dinner finished preparing.
“It's a pleasure to have you here, Mr. and Mrs…” you paused in your sentence when you realized that you didn't know the names of your guests.
“Mr. Hart and I are very happy to be the first guests invited to your new home, Mrs. Wayne,” Mrs. Hart replied as everyone sat on the couch.
“Where is Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Hart asked seriously. “You can't have a business dinner if the businessman isn't in the house,” he complained, waving his arms around to show the room. You laughed nervously at his insistence; he wasn't the first person that day to ask where Bruce was and make you uncomfortable for some reason.
“Well, my beloved husband had a last-minute business trip,” you started explaining. “But he left me and our children in charge to receive you for dinner,” you said, smiling and trying not to show your lack of certainty about the totality of the situation.
“Oh, the Wayne kids!” Mrs. Hart exclaimed dreamily. “I'm so excited to meet you!” She took your hands and squeezed them comfortingly.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Alfred had gone to the dining room to set up the table with the appetizers, leaving the place unattended where two small pairs of feet entered without making much noise with a precise aim: to cause trouble.
“I adore children, even though Mr. Hart and I never had our own,” the woman explained wistfully, looking at her husband, who instead of sharing his story was looking around with a frown. But she paid no attention to him and continued talking to you.
In the kitchen, Dick was helping his younger brother up onto the counter next to the stove, where a pot of hot soup was ready to be served. Once Jason was firmly on his feet, he quickly took it upon himself to climb up as well to stand next to him, and they began opening the cabinets for cookies.
“Tell me: What are their names? And how old are they?” Mrs. Hart asked, excited about the topic of conversation.
“My oldest son is Richard, but everyone calls him Dick,” you started to explain.
“Children can be cruel,” Mr. Hart commented candidly, and the audience laughed. The joke took you by surprise, but you decided to ignore it and continue.
“He's eight years old; he'll be nine in December,” you continued. “And Jason, he'll be six in August,” you finished with a smile, thinking about how your youngest son would be another year older.
Dick opened one of the cabinets on the stove, stood on tiptoe as he maneuvered the cabinet door open, and peered inside for the cookie jar, but he began to lose his balance just as Alfred set the appetizers down on the table and started on his way to the living room to announce that dinner was ready.
“They sound adorable; I can't wait to meet them!” Mrs. Hart enthused.
"They are adorable, and they are very good kids too," you said with a bright smile.
BAAM.
Dick ended up losing his balance while trying to close the cupboard door again, and the pot of soup crashed to the floor, staining the entire kitchen with its creamy texture, including your two children, who were now covered in food, ruining their clothes and staining their faces.
“Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred called, successfully hiding his concern, which you couldn't do very well because, at the sound, your eyes widened at the multiple scenarios running through your head about what could have caused the noise.
“Yes, Alfred?” you answered with a small voice.
“What was that?” Mr. Hart asked irritably.
“I think it's time to guide our guests to the table and go find the young masters,” he commented calmly, to which you quickly jumped out of your chair.
“YES!” you yelled. “Great idea, Alfred.” You turned to the guest couple, who looked more than confused. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, follow Alfred into the dining room and enjoy the appetizers while I go find the kids, who I'm sure are somewhere in the house being on their best behavior,” you said, and the audience laughed.
“Everything is alright?” Mrs. Hart asked as you left the room.
“Yes, yes, everything is in order; nothing to worry about,” you answered a little too quickly before running out of the room.
Jason and Dick looked at each other, knowing that nothing good could come of this. But when they tried to get down, the younger one slipped on the soup that had stained the counter under his feet. Dick rushed to try to catch him, but he also slipped on the ground. As both children fell, all their weight rested on the refrigerator, which, in turn, tipped sideways to hit a piece of furniture that fell forward and pushed another piece of furniture full of fine china that fell sideways, causing the door to lock and letting all the plates and glasses crash to the floor, creating even more noise.
CRASH.
You leaned your whole body against the door as you reached it, only to find that it wouldn't open in the slightest; something was blocking it.
“Boys?” you called through the door. “Boys, are you there?” you asked.
“Here we are, Mom, and we're fine,” said Dick from his place still on the counter. They couldn't get down now; the floor was not only slippery but also covered in sharp glass. He wouldn't risk Jason getting hurt.
“We tried Alfred's soup,” Jason said. “It's delicious.” The audience laughed, but you were anything but amused by the situation.
“Oh dear,” you sighed, visualizing your children covered in soup at a less-than-opportune moment. “Why can't I open the door?” You tried to push, but whatever was blocking your way was too heavy for you.
“A large piece of furniture fell in front of the door, and the floor is full of glass. We can't get close,” Dick explained regretfully. They didn't want to cause such a mess; they just wanted the cookies, and they hadn't even found them.
“What happened?” Alfred asked, coming to your side.
“A piece of furniture is blocking the door, the soup is on the floor, and the crockery has now turned into very expensive confetti,” you quickly explained, turning to look at him.
“Okay, Mrs. Wayne, it's time to use your magic and solve this problem,” he said.
“But you don't like magic being used in your kitchen,” you replied, confused.
“Considering that the crockery has been smashed, the soup is used as a rug, and the young masters are still trapped in there, if we don't open the door right now, there probably won't be any kitchen to take care of tomorrow, Mrs. Wayne,” he explained quickly, and that made perfect sense to you.
“Good point,” you said. The audience laughed as you got into position to use your magic, but when you moved your hands, nothing happened. You tried again, and still nothing happened. “It doesn't work,” you repeated the movement in a desperate attempt, but again nothing happened. “What's going on!?” you asked desperately.
“I told you to rest today, Mrs. Wayne; it's probably the stress,” Alfred said quickly, consoling you.
“Oh, this is not good,” you said.
“Ms. Wayne?” Mrs. Hart yelled from the dining room.
“Just a second,” you replied with a fake cheerful tone before looking back at the butler. “What are we going to do?” you asked.
“Don't worry; I'll look for the keys to the door that leads to the patio while you distract the guests,” Alfred said and walked in the opposite direction. You went to follow him, but you realized that you had to go the other way, so you turned to walk to the dining room. The audience laughed.
In the living room, you sat at the table with the guests, starting to eat the appetizers. They tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but Mr. Hart was suspicious, and it was clear by the way he looked at you. His wife was more than happy to ignore it.
“And the children?” Mrs. Hart asked as she bit into one of her meatloaf pies.
“Oh, they're finishing up their toys before they eat,” you explained as you finished pouring some wine into your glass.
“But you should eat first,” said Mrs. Hart sweetly.
“Nonsense, my dear,” interrupted Mr. Hart. “Two children with a father not present for business; these two need a steady hand, or they will become good for nothing. It's fair: if they don't pick up their toys, they don't eat.” He stuffed a whole canapé into his mouth roughly.
“I wouldn't say they don't eat,” you defended. “But if you have to order before eating because they definitely won't do it later, they always get sleepy.” You finished explaining and drank from your glass of wine. “Also, most of the time, they are very well-behaved children,” you added.
“Most of the time?” questioned Mr. Hart suddenly.
Alfred entered the room quietly. He passed behind you, giving you a meaningful look: you had to keep distracting the Harts because he still hadn't found the key.
“Well, they are children; you know how they are,” you commented, laughing, but the serious face of Mr. Hart told you that the man did not enjoy jokes much, so you continued, “All children have their moments of curiosity.” Alfred walked out of the room back into the hallway. “And that curiosity can get to—” BAM! CRASH! The butler had to use force to pry open a particularly jammed drawer. “Accidents; something always ends up breaking.” You let out a nervous laugh.
“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called as he stood in the doorway.
“Yes, Alfred?” you yelled, unable to stop looking at Mr. Hart, who was watching you suspiciously.
“The young masters want you to confirm that their toys are tidy and that they are free to sit down to dinner,” he said neutrally, but you knew right away what he meant.
“Of course, you have to see those toys,” you joked as you got up from the table.
“Make sure it's neatly arranged in alphabetical order,” demanded Mr. Hart, and you couldn't help but give him a look for that.
“Don't talk nonsense,” his wife told him. “Go find them,” he told you happily. “I can't wait to meet those little angels,” he encouraged you.
“I'll do that,” you answered with the same enthusiasm and walked down the hall with Alfred until you reached the kitchen door.
“The keys to the patio door are nowhere to be found,” he began to explain, “and I'm afraid the cabinet is too stuck in front of the door to try to push it.”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” you started to babble.
“Mrs. Wayne, you need to calm down,” Alfred requested.
“The children are locked in the kitchen, along with the food, and our guests are waiting in the dining room,” you pointed out. “I think it's a good time for a little panic, Alfred.”
“Panic is not going to get us out of this situation,” Alfred pointed out, which caught your attention, and you looked at him, but the man ignored you. “Getting the children out requires us to be focused,” he clarified, and you decided to ignore his mistake; it wasn't that serious.
“Maybe one of the windows,” you suggested hopefully.
“No, they were all closed,” he said.
“Mrs. Wayne!!” you heard Mrs. Hart as she got up from her chair and walked toward you in a suitably slow manner.
“Oh no,” you groaned in anguish. “We need an entrance, an entrance, an entrance to the kitchen.” As if they were connected, you and Alfred looked at each other as the solution came to your mind.
“The unidentified door!!” you both yelled and started running.
As you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, you suddenly found yourselves walking through the unmarked door into the kitchen, which Alfred had appeared through that morning, just like that. You still didn't know what the point of the door was, but you were thankful for it because Mrs. Hart was coming to the door.
“Ms. Wayne,” called the woman, dangerously close to the door. You ran to the opposite side of the covered door and approached your children. “Where are they?” She was almost in front of the door, so you made a quick movement with your hands: the soup disappeared from the floor and returned to its place in the pot, the children's clothes were cleaned, as were their faces, and both furniture and glass returned to their places in the expensive crockery that Bruce had inherited from his parents. Mrs. Hart came through the door at that moment to find you carrying your youngest son on your hip, Dick sitting innocently on the island, and Alfred stirring the soup. “Here you are,” she exclaimed.
“Here we are,” you said, smiling. You lowered Jason from your hip and grabbed his hand. “Alfred,” the man looked at you, “it's time to serve the main course to our guests.”
“Right away, Mrs. Wayne,” Alfred answered calmly and you shared a knowing look before he answered.
At the dining room table, the end of the table was left empty because it was Bruce's place, while you, Dick, and Jason sat on one side, in that order, with the invited couple seated across from you, Mr. Hart directly opposite you.
“Well,” Mrs. Hart said as she put her napkin on her lap, while Alfred poured juice for the children. “Where do you come from? How long have you and Mr. Wayne been married? And do you plan to have more children?” she asked, beginning to taste the soup, hitting you with her questions closely one after the other.
“Oh,” you laughed, “Bruce and I have been together for so long it feels like we've always been this way.” You paused, “And we come from…” you were at a loss. “We come from…” you didn't know.
“We come from another city,” said Dick. “From…” he was cut off, bewildered, but he quickly looked at you for help, surely you knew. “What was the name of the city, Mom?” he asked you, curious.
“The city, of course,” you said, trying to start your sentence again. “We come from…” Again, you had nothing; that made no sense.
“AND?” asked Mr. Hart, frustrated. You looked at him and tried to smile to appear normal, but you quickly lost it, and he noticed.
“Let them think, dear. They are putting together their story,” Mrs. Hart defended, smiling sweetly as Alfred poured him more wine. At that moment, you looked at him, but he didn't look at you; he was suddenly serious, with a lost look as he poured his glass, and he seemed tense.
“Our story, yes, of course,” you continued, again trying to get back on track. “We come from, from a city, from…” You failed again.
“Where from?” asked Mr. Hart, flustered.
“Arthur, leave the poor woman alone,” Mrs. Hart scolded him, eating quickly, her tone sweet, but in her posture, there was something else; she was not calm or happy as she wanted to seem.
“Why?” her husband defended himself. “It's a perfectly normal and simple question: Where do they come from?” The table fell silent; for a few seconds, no one moved or made a sound. “Damn it. Where does it come from?” He slammed the table roughly, making the plates jump. Dick looked at him; he could hear the anger in his voice and even fear, but he didn't understand why. “What do you want? What do you want—” His words were cut off, as was his breath. You watched him intently as he brought his hands to his throat; he was choking.
“Oh, Arthur, stop it,” his wife said naturally, her tone not losing the cheerful and casual air it had until now, but Arthur Hart kept choking, and nobody made a move, not even you. Only Jason kept eating his soup. Your eldest son looked at the guest, confused. Dick felt that he should do something, but he also felt he shouldn't at the same time. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart repeated. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” She stopped looking at her husband when he fell to the ground, very close to the feet of Alfred, who looked at the situation without leaving his place, with the wine jug in hand. You looked at him, and he looked at you this time; he seemed worried, even anguished and fearful. “Stop it,” Mrs. Hart looked at you this time; she was talking to you. “Stop it,” she repeated.
“Mom,” Dick called worriedly when he saw that the guest's pleas were directed at you now. He grabbed your hand on the table to try to get your attention, but he kept looking between Mrs. Hart and the drowning man on the floor.
“Mrs. Wayne,” this time it was Alfred who called you. “Mrs. Wayne” was a silent request.
“Please, stop it,” Mrs. Hart continued. A buzzing invaded your ears; suddenly, two unknown voices filled your ears. What they were talking about was inescapable, but they were close because their minds were connected.
“Ms. Wayne,” Alfred called you with more urgency.
“Mama,” Dick called, shaking your hand at the same time, but the voices had your full attention. You wanted to know who they were and what they were up to.
“Mommy.” Suddenly, the voices were forgotten. Dick and Mrs. Hart fell silent. You looked at your youngest son, who was looking at you, confused by the situation, and you immediately reacted.
“Alfred, help him,” you said seriously, the butler quickly putting down the wine pitcher and proceeding to help the man on the ground, quickly getting him to spit out the piece of meat that had been stuck in his airway. Mr. Hart gasped for air as he started to try to get up quickly. In a hurry, Alfred helped him to his feet.
“Careful, Mr.” he said as they both finished standing in their places.
Mr. Hart finished standing up and ran his hands over his jacket, lost for a second and not knowing what he was doing, but quickly found the watch on his wrist and looked at it.
“Look at the time,” he said matter-of-factly. “We'd better head home.” He pointed and smiled, suddenly becoming more likable than he had been throughout dinner.
“You're right, dear,” Mrs. Hart agreed in her well-pitched, sing-song tone. “It was a pleasure meeting you all,” she commented as you and your children stood up from your seats. She approached you friendly, and you took a few steps to meet her halfway. “Your children are adorable, Mrs. Wayne, and your house is charming,” she stated before giving you an impromptu hug, which you returned.
“Tell Mr. Wayne I can't wait to do business with him,” Mr. Hart said, smiling as you separated from his wife and walked over to shake his hand. “And you two behave, young men,” he motioned to your sons as they both stood beside you. You ran your hand through your youngest son's hair to make sure he was there, and Dick leaned against your side with his head resting on your hip. “Your mother is a unique woman, and there is nothing she wouldn't do for you. Appreciate her,” he told them honestly, which brought a smile to your face. You looked down to meet Dick's unsure eyes and patted his back quickly to reassure him.
“Yes, Mr. Hart,” Jason said as his older brother decided to speak.
“We'll take care of her, always,” Dick added.
“I'll walk you out,” Alfred said, smiling, happy that everything had turned out well.
You and your children went to the living room, ready to watch some television before going to sleep.
“Well, that was an adventure, without a doubt,” you commented while sitting in the middle of the couch.
“It was to be expected when your family is like ours,” Dick jokes, smiling at you conspiratorially as he sat next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.
“Next time, Alfred should serve ice cream for dinner,” Jason pointed out. “Everyone loves ice cream,” he explained when you looked at him, prompting you and your oldest son to laugh along with the audience. Jason settled with his head in your lap, and you put your hand in his hair to caress it, as he liked so much, while Dick wrapped his arms around your waist. You put your arm around his shoulders to hug him closer to you.
“After that disaster, I need a drink,” Alfred commented, entering the room and sitting in one of the individual armchairs. “Although it could be compensated with a raise,” he joked, and they all laughed together again.
“What can I say?” You looked at Jason, seeing how his eyes were slowly closing in sleep. “We're a bit of a peculiar family,” you stated.
“Just a bit?” Dick teased again. You kissed his head as the lights dimmed, and the credits began to roll, the show ending with the image of your beautiful family sitting in the living room.
Seeing that image, Bruce couldn't help but notice that it was the happiest he had seen you in months…
ੈ✩ love island (smau) ੈ✩
pairing : lando norris x reader
tw : fluff; suggestive, tiny tiny angst, jealousy love island coupling, mentions of other celebs as cast, kissing pictures
fc : Jung HoYeon
a/n : AHHH! THIS IDEA WAS IN MY HEAD FOR SOO LONG ! also did y’all really think just because s2 is here, we are going to forget the main s1 simp? She is so pretty, I can’t -
·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ
liked by user1, user2 , lando and 347,387 others
loveislanduk @ lando JOINS US FOR THIS SEASON !!!!
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user1 that's it. I am dead
user2 seeing landhoe being more hoey?
user3 BRO IS DOING EVERYTHING AS A SID E HUSTLE
user4 fuck paddock, I am going on a padi vacation
user5 SHIRTLESS LANDO 25X8 !?!?
user6 does mclaren even know !?
user7 THE SAUCY CHALLENGES YALL !?
user8 so you are telling me, he is going to cheat on Carlos !?
user9 I would love to see the grid’s reaction…
user10 I can imagine max saying simply lovely
liked by user1, jennieruby, user2 and 836,297 others
sojuyn ig survival shows are my thing
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user1 MOTHER IS GOING TO LOVE ISLAND !?
user2 she went to the final of squid games, what’s this for her ? 💀
user3 I just love how her pics are serving like always
jennieruby AHHH! can't wait to see you there xooxo
liked by sojuyn
user4 Y/N, DONT SHOW YOUR SEXY SELF To others 😔
user5 can't believe we can't gatekeep the hottie anymore 😔
liked by charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,366,872 others
lando Getting that British island 💪🏻💂
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carlossainz55 can’t believe you are going there
lando you have Rebecca !!
carlossainz55 I get it Lando, no need.
maxverstappen1 simple lovely mate
georgerussell getting over the championship defeat ?
lando getting over your gay ass ?
georgerussell it’s called being a diva
mclaren we weren't informed, Lando.
lando random applications i guess 😃
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loveislanduk the first episode just premiered!
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user1 HELLO THE CAST !?
user2 so you are telling me, Lando, Jude Bellingham, hjevelyn and BRYCE HALL !?!?
user3 HOW DID BRYCE HALL SPAWN HERE !?
user4 HJEVELYN 😍😍
user5 Y/NNNN 😍😍😍😍
user6 I see admin has a favorite, already posting lando and y/n 😃
user7 Is this some sport island season !?
user8 the amount of celebs !?!?
user9 WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TORTURE ME FOR ONE WEEK BEFORE RELEASING MORE
user10 I am here for the drama
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loveisland raise your ya ya ya - heart!. The saucy challenge is only available on episode 2 🤭
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user1 the caption is killing me 🐸
user2 DID WE ALL SEE LANDO AND Y/N!?
user3 LANDO'S HEART ROSE TO 140!?
user4 IS THAT EVEN SAFE !?!?
user5 we could see jude burning eyes into lando-
user6 THE FIRST COUPLING WAS SOGOOD
user7 I think it was obvious that y/n and lando will couple up-
user8 i can sense lando-yn-jude
user9 jude was not happy when lando picked yn
user10 the face when jude had to couple with magui-
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lando hideaway 😗
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loveislanduk @ lando debriefs with the guys, before grabbing @ judebellingham for a quick chat !
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user1 lando said no one messes with my girl
user2 ngl, those two look good together
user3 we seeing a lot of bromance
user4 i feel the connection between them
user5 istg if they dump the girls and be togther -
user6 POWER COUPLE
user7 yn with the richest and handsome men after her
user8 oh to be her 😔
user9 magui is not going to like this
user10 imagine jude coupling with her next week
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loveislanduk the third episode started with drama! @ sojuyn was splashed by @ maguicorceiro for apparently lip locking her couple up @ judebellingham, @ Lando does not look much happy ! Tune in for episode 3 !!
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user1 and i-
user2 LANDO LOOKS ANGRY
user3 not kando turning into max by wearing mclaren merch-
user4 I am not even there but I can clearly see that that's not yn!!
user5 it is jude, but not with yn
user6 ITS EVELYN
user7 oh my gosh, ITS EVELYN AND JUDE!!
user8 YN IS LOYAL TO LANDO
user9 magui really wants lando
user10 just because they both are Asians -
part2...?
let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!
permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx
fic tg: @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @ilivbullyingjeongin
I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—
The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕
Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster
Emi’s Favorite
Kenji Sato x Reader
Word Count: 1,546
Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ
MASTERLIST
Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.
For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.
You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.
Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.
He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.
You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.
He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”
Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.
Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.
“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.
“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.
The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.
Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.
“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”
Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.
“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.
Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.
Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.
“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.
You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.
Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.
Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.
You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”
Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.
Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.
“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.
She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.
“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.
Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.
The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.
“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.
“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”
Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.
With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.
“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.
You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.
Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.
You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”
Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.
Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.
He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.
“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.
You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”
You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.
You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.
“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”
You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”
You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”
Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.
“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”
Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”
You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.
Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”
Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”
Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots
@scribble0rat
Fan Letter | idol!Dk x reader | fluff
Y/N had never thought much about the contents of the shoebox tucked away in the corner of her closet. It was a relic from her teenage years, filled with old posters, concert tickets, and faded memories of a time when she was just another fan in a sea of glowing light sticks.
But apparently, DK had other plans for that shoebox.
“Y/N,” his voice rang through her apartment as he stepped inside, waving a crumpled piece of paper in the air. His expression was a mix of confusion, amusement, and something else she couldn’t quite place. “What is this?”
Y/N blinked, completely caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”
He held up the paper, and her stomach immediately dropped. The handwriting was unmistakable, it was hers. A letter she had written years ago, when she was just a fan who never thought she’d actually meet the man who had inspired her so much. And now, here he was, standing in her living room, holding the very letter she had hoped no one would ever see.
“Where did you even find that?” she asked, her voice a mix of panic and embarrassment.
DK grinned, tilting his head in that way he always did when he was teasing her. “You told me to grab a blanket from your closet, so I might’ve… accidentally opened a box.”
Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Seokmin, you weren’t supposed to see that. It’s so embarrassing.”
But DK didn’t seem embarrassed at all. In fact, he looked almost… touched. “You wrote this to me? Like, for real?” He glanced back down at the letter, reading it aloud with dramatic flair. “Dear DK, I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I just wanted to say thank you. Your voice has helped me get through so many tough days.”
“Stop it!” Y/N lunged at him, trying to grab the letter, but he was too quick, holding it above his head and out of her reach.
“Whenever I feel like giving up, I listen to your songs, and it feels like I can breathe again. I don’t know how to explain it, but you make everything feel a little lighter.” He paused, his expression softening as he lowered the letter and met her eyes. “You’ll probably never know who I am, but I just wanted to say thank you for being you.”
Y/N froze, her cheeks burning as she tried to think of something to say. “I was young, okay? I didn’t think you’d ever read that. It’s… it’s just stupid.”
But DK shook his head, folding the letter carefully and slipping it into his pocket. “It’s not stupid. Not even a little.”
“Seokmin…” she started, but he cut her off, stepping closer.
“Do you know how much this means to me?” he said, his voice quieter now. “To know that I could make someone feel like that? To know that I made you feel like that?”
Y/N looked up at him, her embarrassment slowly fading as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You really helped me,” she admitted softly. “Back then, when I was going through a lot, your voice… it made things feel less heavy. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”
DK’s smile grew, and he reached out to take her hands in his. “And now you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
She let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Nope,” he said with a laugh, pulling her into a hug. “But seriously, Y/N, this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me. And the fact that it came from you makes it even better.”
She relaxed in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you found that.”
“Believe it,” he teased, gently swaying them side to side. “But hey, if you ever want to write me another letter, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe something like, ‘Dear DK, you’re the best boyfriend in the world.’”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re the reason I keep singing,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N realized that the boy she had written to all those years ago had turned out to be even better than she could have ever imagined.
————————————————————————————-
~Masterlist~
Social media AUs:
F1 Grid
Pure Chaos Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Lando Norris
London Boy
PR Problem
"Slut!"
Hot Laps
Kiss and Makeup
Charles Leclerc
His Loss
Daniel Ricciardo
Guys My Age
One-shots:
Lando Norris
Matchmaker
Fuck It I Love You
Let’s Fall In Love For The Night
Take Me To Church
𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖘
𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱
Axl Rose
1982 by @lost-in-the-80s
Wife sharing by @duffslut
Still mad? by @duffslut
Talk to me by @duffslut
Old money by @duffslut
Duff McKagan
Threesome by @rockthingsbymeg
Cry baby by @duffslut
Ultraviolence by @duffslut
Choking by @thesmokingguns
Slash / Saul Hudson
Threesome by @rockthingsbymeg
Raw Power by @s-lasxh
Birthday Boy by @s-lasxh
Somebody’s is watching me by @s-lasxh
Tangerine by @zaynsxsoul
Dance for me by @axlsangel
The stripclub by @slashxrose
Izzy Stradlin
Wife sharing by @duffslut
Steven Adler
Terrible Twos by @tuffduff
Drum Studio by @duffslut
Nikki Sixx
From the source by @metal-mxddy
......here comes the president and vice president of svt whore line.................
F1 grid
°
Weathering Your Storm
22!-23! F1 Grid au!
Female! driver! Reader
• Driver profile
Away We Go
° The winds are howling .
° Did you see .
° Venture your silent sea .
° They're carving my name on the grave again .
° Change of winds .
° Homemade Chaos and Memories .
Beyond the lane
Extra/side chapters , blurbs and what's not
° This City
° Media Menace
° Boooo! , the grid's chilling adventure .....
° Just Another Day......
° Don't hold your breath
° Origin of Orion The Great
° House Merc best duo
° If These Wings Could Fly
° For You, I'll Pray
° I Got My Eyes on You
"The Incorrect correct quotes"
Push
Nice
Vegas
Procrastinate
Therapy
Stress
My Hand to Hold :
All the possible candidates(not canon) to win our driver's heart
• Lewis Hamilton⁴⁴ .
• Max Verstappen³³ .
• Daniel Ricciardo³ .
• Carlos Sainz⁵⁵ .
• Charles Leclerc¹⁶ .
Multiverses madness
The gate to the branched universes of WYS aka me overthinking and sidetracking .
Gate one :
Caught in a headlight
AKA :
RedBull!female!driver verse
Just You and Me
BiBi to the win!
Under the Blood Moon || Peaky Blinders || Masterlist
Tommy Shelby x Reader: Series Masterlist (incomplete)
Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18
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