#ariwrites

Bruce pressed a soft kiss against the supple skin of your neck and tightened his hold on your waist as the slumber pulled him into another world filled with darkness.

The hour of silent comfort you had with Bruce quickly passed.

At 6:15 A.M., you softly turned in his embrace and pressed a kiss against his temple. There was still a bit of dark eyeshadow left-over, forgotten in the hurry to pull off the suit and join you in his bed.

You softly rubbed the black away under his eyes, your thumb ever so gently passing over the delicate skin as Bruce inhaled deeply.

“You forgot a bit, mister,” you softly whispered as his eyes remained closed. His thumb rubbing circles over the exposed flesh of your hip revealed that he was awake.

“I’m gonna get some coffee from Roberto’s,” you whispered again, trying to peel away from his embrace that had you locked in place. Morning always came too soon for Bruce, no matter how he tried to shy away from the light.

“Why do you insist on getting coffee from Roberto’s when Alfred makes a perfectly fine cup?” He muttered, his voice still a bit hoarse from running through the cold all night long.

“Because,” you grinned, pressing a kiss against his bicep and finally untangling yourself. “It’s only a block away and I’ve been going there since I was 15.”

“Hnng,” he groaned, burying his face in the pillows. His eyes were so well-adjusted to the dark that the first rays of the sun, however faint they were, felt like stings and made his head throb. “Come back soon, I’ve barely seen you this week.”

You pulled on a dark jumper of his and laced your boots, ready to defy the rain that was pounding down on Gotham city.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” you bent down to press another kiss to his temple. You would never stop showering the man in physical affection, for as long as your heart beat in your chest.

You pulled on a long trench-coat over your jumper and closed the door to the bedroom behind you.

Bruce was back to snoring again, already lost in a slumber and blissfully unaware of the upcoming events.

When Bruce awoke again, it was a little past 8 A.M. For some reason, his dreams had been filled with scenarios of your death. He often had nightmares where he relived the night his parents got murdered or scenarios where he himself was the target of some sort of violent crime. But those all paled next to the horrors of your passing, an event he wished to never experience.

Bruce had grown immensely attached to you over the past 15 years.

You were like a warm blanket that wrapped around him when he needed it most. A warm blanket that drove away the cold that had settled in his bones ever since his parents passed. The moment that made him the sole survivor of a horrible crime gone wrong.

The warmness of your personality made him feel again. It made him susceptible again to caring what happened. You might be the only reason why he returned to being Bruce again, when being his dark alter ego seemed like the only solution to battle his demons.

So why didn’t he feel your warm presence in his embrace again? Where was your scent that usually calmed him down after another nightmare? Where were you?

Bruce shot up from his bed.

His heart was battering in his chest. You could’ve been held up in Roberto’s. People are so drawn to you, it often happens that you are stopped in the street and asked for something.

It’s because you’re a household name in the city, known for your father’s media-empire and for the philanthropy department you ran. People seemed to know where you were at any given moment, so much so that they bothered you all the time. Well, it bothered Bruce. He knew you liked looking over all the proposals and helping out people wherever you could. It was yet again a testament to how different you two were.

Bruce pushed his sunglasses on his nose and sauntered over to the living room where Alfred was doing some paperwork. He knew he shouldn’t have been worried, yet he couldn’t think of anything else, especially after that horrific nightmare.

“Where’s the miss?” Alfred asked, taking a sip of his coffee as he looked down at the paperwork again. Apparently he wasn’t worried either.

“She went out to Roberto’s a few hours ago,” Bruce muttered, still an edge of unease in his tone. “Did she leave a note or say something to the maid?”

Alfred shook his head, “can’t blame the woman for not leaving a note, she’s been going for years.”

“She’ll turn up, don’t worry, sir,” Alfred added as he spotted the pained look on Bruce’s face. He slid a cup of coffee Bruce’s way and continued his reading.

After a few minutes of enduring the silence, the doorbell rang in the distance.

“There she is,” Alfred said, a hint of a smile hidden in his voice as he turned the page. Alfred was happy there was another person in his life that cared as much about Bruce as he did. Bruce needed all the love in the world he could get, and he was glad you were able to provide that. The fact that Bruce was so anxious to see you again, was like music to Alfred’s ears.

But then the maid entered the living room, her eyes wide-open and her hands wringing in one another.

A second pair of steps quickly followed the maid’s and that’s when Bruce realized it weren’t your boots that were stomping down on the floor, but a standard issue of the Gotham city police department.

Bruce had been watching the news all morning.

His adrenaline was peaking, just like when he was out at night trying to stop criminals.

But he couldn’t go out just yet.

His dark alter ego only left when the night was at its peak darkness, when the last rays of sun had left the city and were replaced by the cold glare of the moon.

“Breaking news: the heiress to the Quantico-media empire was kidnapped in broad daylight this morning. Bruce Wayne’s partner was last seen this morning as she left Roberto’s. Our sources confirm that the heiress has been frequenting the coffee shop weekly since her teenage years. Afterwards, she was captured around 7:05 A.M. and pulled into a blacked-out van. Right now, police are doing everything they can do bring the woman back to safety. Police asks witnesses to come forward with any information they might have -“

He couldn’t listen to the woman anymore. Bruce didn’t feel like himself anymore. The only thing he felt was this inner rage. The same rage he felt when his parents were murdered.

Bruce tried to storm off, but Alfred quickly stopped him. Alfred eyed the liaison that the police had sent over to keep Bruce up to date. He couldn’t say anything to reveal the nature of Bruce’s… after hours job, but he could try to imply that his alter ego had to wait until the night fell over the city.

“Bruce, you can’t do anything.”

His nostrils flared, but aside from that, he couldn’t do anything.

Bruce couldn’t do anything and he never despised himself more.

So he did the only thing he could do, as a rich heir to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce paced around his apartment, his eyes glued to the screen and his hearing focused on the police liaison that got updates every half hour.

The little bit of light was just disappearing when the liaison got the call that the abductors had reached out with a message.

“Mr. Wayne?” The woman asked, a bit hesitant as she saw his fearful face. “They’re demanding a huge ransom.”

“How much, I’ll pay it. I’ll pay it all,” Bruce cut her off. He’d gladly give all his money if it meant that you’d be home by the end of the day.

“That’s not the only thing they want.”

The woman’s brown eyes were pulled a bit downwards, as if she was perpetually sad. Who wouldn’t be in this godforsaken city?

“They want 15 million dollars from you, 15 million from her father and…” the woman trailed off. Goddamnit, couldn’t she get to the point instead of dancing around the truth? Whatever news she would tell could not be worse than you not being safe in his arms right this moment.

Alfred noticed the distress on Bruce’s face. He noticed how his brows were pulled together, how his jaw was just a bit sharper than usual. He saw the darkness that was swirling in his eyes.

“What else do they want?” He asked, standing in between Bruce and the liaison.

“They want Quantico-media to shut down. They want to get rid of the independent news and install a media-outlet that is biased and, well-“

The liaison trailed off once more, but this time Bruce couldn’t think straight anymore. “What? Just spit it out for once!”

“Her father was fine with paying the money, but shutting down Quantico-media is off the table. There’s no deal. We have 24 hours to come up with something new or they kill her.”

It was as if something exploded in his mind. But it wasn’t like the type of fireworks that went off in his mind as when he kissed you, or when you laced your fingers through his when the media was once again hounding him.

It was more like a time-bomb that finally ticked to zero. A bomb that caused a chain reaction which made his critical thinking fly out the window.

Bruce looked outside. The sun had set and was replaced by the eerie darkness that engulfed Gotham City. It was time.

He turned to Alfred. “I’m going out. I can’t just sit here.”

Alfred nodded and turned towards the liaison, asking about what the next steps were.

To anyone else, it looked like the whole ordeal had become too much for Bruce, like he had to go outside to think, to not feel like a helpless creature that was stuck inside his high-rise apartment.

To two people however, it was clear what was going to happen.

It was clear that, whoever exited the underground garage next wouldn’t be a young heir, pained by the disappearance of his love. The one who exited the garage would be the kidnappers biggest nightmare.

It took Bruce the whole night and the first few hours of daylight to get some information about your whereabouts.

Gordon had also activated the signal, meaning that the police had just as much trouble in finding you as he had encountered through the night.

Bruce had gone through any kind of criminal that could be affiliated with a crime lord who wanted control of the media.

He was covered in grime and blood, remnants of the fights he had endured and would continue to endure until he knew where you were. He didn’t even know whose blood was on his hands anymore. It was a mixture of his and probably 20 other men’s blood. His knuckles were split open under his gloves. His chest hurt from all the punches he had endured and his head felt like it might split open any second from all the bullets that bounced off his helmet.

But he finally got a location. It was on the outskirts of the city. An abandoned building that once was a printing house. The irony wasn’t lost on Bruce.

Gordon had ordered him to wait for the police force to get there, so that there was back-up and some sort of official authority, but Bruce felt like he might jump out of his skin the longer he waited.

So he went in on his own. He’d deal with the ramifications later.

The building was dark and quiet. A musty scent clung to the air. A mix of gunpowder and cigarette smoke.

Bruce’s senses were dialed to the max and though exhaustion was settling in his bones, the idea that you were somewhere in this building reinvigorated him.

The thought that he’d sleep for a whole week in his own bed, your soft skin against his once again made him push through the one of the hardest nights of his life.

Bruce was no longer alone in the building though.

A man shot out from the shadows, a gun that was pointed at him.

Bruce heard the click of the safety switch being switched off, followed by the loud clatter of gunshots and bullets that were bouncing off his suit. Bruce quickly kicked the feet from under the man’s body, not caring how much he hurt the captors that kidnapped you.

A few other men reacted to the sounds of guns going off, and soon enough there was a group of men crowding around Bruce, hitting him everywhere.

He felt as if he was losing the fight. There were just too many men and guns attacking him all at once.

Bruce fell down on his knees. His whole body hurt and searching for you had exhausted him to no end.

The men continued pouncing on him and he felt the integrity of his suit wearing down with every bullet that hit it.

Bruce was so close. He was so close to finding you again. To getting you out of this hellhole and back into the safety of his home. His home that hadn’t felt like a home since his parents passed, but ever since you stayed over it was more a home than ever before.

He was now totally knocked on the ground, he was losing a fight for the very first time he started as the Batman. He was losing the one fight he wasn’t supposed to lose. The fight that would ensure your safe return.

So Bruce did what any sane person would do. He thought of you. He thought of the simpler times. The times were it was just you and him. The times where you went to sleep smiling at him and where you woke up a few hours later, a smile still present. He thought of how beautiful you looked when he first met you. He thought about the first time you dragged him to a gala he didn’t want to go to, yet you were the last to leave the party, just because you were both glued to the dance floor. He thought of you.

It was thinking of you, thinking of all those memories that made him realize how many more memories you could still make in the future. Of how many more stupid gala’s he’d go to just because you asked him. Or how many more times he’d see you smile. It was all those things combined that seemed to give him an extra shot of adrenaline. A boost that made him stand up again.

The group of men didn’t know what he had in store for them.

After fighting them off for another 45 minutes, he was finally able to knock them all out.

Bodies were spread over the whole first floor and he didn’t hear anyone else approaching.

His whole body ached, but he ignored the burning in every limb and ran to the stairs.

Apparently they had hidden you in the basement.

The basement was possibly even darker than the upper floor of the building. It was quiet too, aside from the squeaking of a few rats in the distance.

Was luck finally on his side? Were there no more guys that he needed to defeat to get to you?

It really felt like luck as the next thing he heard was a soft muffled whimper, a few feet in front of him.

“I’m here, I got you, I’m here,” he repeated as he saw your frame hunched over in the corner. Your mouth was taped shut and a tight rope shackled you to a pillar in the musty basement. There was some blood on your hands, but aside from that, you looked physically as okay as you could. Bruce couldn’t spot any other injuries, so he deducted that you’d probably tried to fight your way out.

It still caused Bruce to want to let loose all the rage that was coursing through his veins.

But when he saw the look in your eyes. That glassy look where your eyes are filling with tears, all that rage was packed up and stored somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he softly pulled the tape from your mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s okay,” you whispered back hoarsely, your voice still hurting from screaming your lungs out. “They’re after my father, not you B.”

“I-I still should’ve protected you,” he breathed out, eyes focussed on untying the rope. Bruce was struggling, his fingers wouldn’t cooperate and seeing the loving look in your eyes made everything hurt even more. “I protect the city but can’t protect the one thing that’s worth more to me than anything I’ve ever loved.”

At this point, Bruce didn’t even care anymore who heard him confessing his love for you. He’d gladly give up the anonymity to save you.

“Oh, my love,” you said, your hands finally free. You placed your palms against his face, the cool leather of his mask in stark contrast to his skin that felt feverish. “You couldn’t have done anything more, but yet, you found me.”

Bruce felt like he was stuck. He had knocked out all the kidnappers, anyone who was involved with hurting and abducting you. The only thing he could do now, as the Batman, was to get you to the safety of the police. How he wished he could just drive off and take care of you himself in the safety of his apartment. Of his home that was a now again a home.

His conflicted nature quickly was overtaken by the need to make sure you would be physically and mentally okay.

“I’m going to lift you up,” he said. His voice still had a pained edge. He was afraid of hurting you, even though his body was on the edge of breaking down. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

You could only nod.

The shock finally started to register. It started somewhere deep in your bones, an ache that could only be explained by the horrible way you had been treated the last 36 hours. The ache travelled from your bones into your veins. It was transported through your veins, just like the blood platelets and nutrients and entered your heart in less than a minute.

You couldn’t stop the sobs that left your throat. Somewhere deep down you knew you were safe, safe in the arms of the man you loved most, but the reptile part of your brain just now realized what horrors you had been through.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce repeated again. It seemed like the only thing he could say. His vocabulary had been exhausted as was he after running himself ragged around the city in search of you.

Bruce had carefully lifted you in his arms. He could feel the shivers that were running through you, the sobs that made your whole body violently shake. He heard your lungs struggling to pull oxygen from the air, the air that was feeling thinner for him too, the effects of your distress taking a toll on him.

When he finally got you out of that wretched basement, the night had reached its darkest time in Gotham City. Instead of the white moonlight shining down on him, there was now the red-blue flickering of approaching police cars painting the walls.

Gordon stepped out of the first car, his face immediately contorting from a pained look to a more relieved one. “You got her out.”

Bruce held on to your body, refusing to let you go. You were safe in his arms, and he didn’t think he could ever let you go again.

The ambulance pulled up just a few seconds after, parking right in front of him. The doctor and paramedics tried to pry you out of his grasp, but he insisted on carefully placing you in the ambulance himself.

“Be careful,” he quietly said as he put you on the stretcher and the paramedics got to work.

You looked so small all of a sudden. Usually your confidence almost made you look like a giant goddess, but now you looked like a small little animal, hurt in a trap that some evil entity had placed.

Your eyes were still locked onto his, even when the paramedics shone a light in them to check for brain injuries.

“We’re gonna take you to the hospital for some extra testing, but physically you look okay,” one of the paramedics told you. You nodded and a sad smile overtook your face as you looked at Bruce.

The man who saved you looked a little broken. His black eye-make up had faded a bit due to the tears and the sweat, but you still recognized his vibrant eyes. The eyes that always looked at you with so much love. A love that burned brighter than the biggest star in the universe.

“Thank you,” you told him before the doors closed and the ambulance drove off. He still saw your tear-stricken face through the little windows. For the outside world, it seemed like just like you were grateful for your saviour, but Bruce knew it was so much more than that.

Gordon quickly asked for a debrief, but once the detective had all information he needed, Bruce speeded off towards his workshop.

The Batsuit was quickly stripped off and replaced by a pair of normal pants and a jumper. The only thing he wanted, was to see you again, surrounded by the best doctors of Gotham City.

Bruce remembered the day you found out he was the nut job running around Gotham city in a suit with a cape. You’d been pissed, unable to understand why he chose to put his life in danger to save others. But then after arguing for a bit, you also realized he tried to protect those the city wanted to harm. The same city that murdered his parents.

He needed to find a way to protect you from this city. He couldn’t let the same fate be bestowed on you, the fate that took his parents. He needed to do more. He couldn’t let the most important person in his life get hurt again.

Bruce was glad he had this dark alter ego. Because without him, you would never have been saved.

You were laying in between his sheets, not a trace of blood or a hint of distress to be spotted on your face. Bruce felt compelled to stay in your vicinity, even though you had been out of the hospital for a week already.

You were still fast asleep, soft snores leaving your lips as the sun finally revealed itself to the city again. The sunlight was filtering through his windows and straight onto your frame. Bruce couldn’t think of another word than ethereal.

The trauma of being taken had translated itself into exhaustion, meaning you slept almost 12 hours every night. Alfred and the maid were also at your beck and call, just like Bruce when he wasn’t out during the night. Your father had been remark fully absent.

Though he was tired from being out all night, the sight of you felt like a shot of pure adrenaline, reawakening him. Bruce couldn’t imagine spending his days any other way.

“Hi you,” you whispered, pulling him away from his daydreams. You hand came up to cup his cheek. You had loved Bruce for so long, you couldn’t imagine waking up without him present anymore.

“Hi,” he whispered back, a rare smile present on his face. His smiles were rare, but when he was in your presence, he couldn’t wipe them off. “How are you feeling?”

“In need of coffee,” you grinned. The few bruises you did have were fading. The one on your neck had almost completely disappeared. The more the bruises faded, the less Bruce was reminded of the horrific event.

“I’ll get the maid to bring some, you stay here,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Bruce wanted to stand up, but you gripped his wrist, a silly smile plastered on your face. “Please stay just a bit B, let’s enjoy this morning together.”

And how could he resist you? How could he resist the love of his life? The one who made him feel more like himself, day after day?

Bruce crawled under the comforter and once again wrapped himself around you, his limbs tangling with yours. God, how he longed to touch you after a night out.

“You know,” he started, fixating on how your fingers perfectly fit between his. “Without you, I don’t think Bruce would still exist.”

And though most people would look at him as if he grew a second head, it all made sense to you.

You knew how much the murder of his parents changed him. How much Bruce retreated into a shell and how it fundamentally changed his core. So much so that he had this primal need to mask up and fight for this city to get safer.

“I’m glad you’re still in there somewhere,” you whispered back, caressing the side of his face and swiping away the dark hair that hid his beautiful eyes. “Because without Bruce, I wouldn’t be here either.”

Bruce shook his head lightly, disagreeing with your statement, but not wanting you to remove your warm hands from his face. “No, no, you’ve always been stronger, you have always been a guiding light for me.”

“Oh Bruce,” you said, looking at the man who had risked his own life just to save yours. “I’ve said it time and time again, but I love you.”

You tilted your head closer to his so your foreheads touched, a gesture that started when you were just teenagers, too anxious to try anything else.

“I’ll love you forever,” he whispered back, still unbelieving of how he had gotten you back after his nightmare turned reality. “I’m never letting you go again.”

You tilted your head a bit forward, just so your lips could touch his in a deliciously soft kiss.

The kiss was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the maid entered with two to-go cups on a silver platter. Talk about service.

“Got you some coffee from Roberto’s miss,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes as she was so happy to see you back again. “Roberto sends you his regards.”

Bruce took ahold of both of the cups as you thanked her. Both Alfred and her had been so careful and helpful, even more so since your return.

She left the room again and Bruce handed you your cup. Roberto had written a small welcome back message, missing your weekly visits but totally understanding that you needed some time.

“Happy?” Bruce asked.

Somehow, Sersi manages to persuade you into learning how to cook. You’re not really sure what spells she’s cast on you, but she did something to sway you, and now you’re in the kitchen with her, almost completely against your will.

“It’s pretty simple,” Sersi tells you patiently as she adds twenty thousand ingredients into a pan. “We’re going to let the milk simmer until the sauce thickens. It’ll take a few minutes. Hand me the salt?”

You find the salt shaker behind some other random spices and hand it to her with a grimace. “You know, I could already be done with my boxed mac and cheese by now.”

Sersi shoots you an exasperated look for the millionth time today. “I’m teaching you how to cook real food. Please never talk about your fake cheese in this kitchen.”

You roll your eyes a little, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest. “Fake cheese is good. And fast.”

It’s Sersi’s turn to roll her eyes. “Fake cheese will not be nearly as good as real cheese. Now hand me the pepper.”

“Ooh, what are we cooking up in here?” Kingo strolls in, slipping into a seat at the counter and peering curiously into the pan. “That smells divine.”

Sersi beams. “Thank you. Y/N helped out.”

“Oh, count me out, then.” Kingo rears back, looking thoroughly alarmed. “Are you sure she didn’t accidentally poison it or something?”

You smack his head with a spatula. He yelps.

“I’m not that bad at cooking,” you tell him, offended.

Kingo scoffs. “Last time you tried, you almost burned down the kitchen.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t realize the stove was still on,” you say. “And maybe cooking isn’t my strong suit. But at least I’m not shooting finger guns at deviants all day.”

“Hey!” Kingo protests indignantly. “My finger guns are very cool!”

“Right, right,” you deadpan, leaning over to steal a cherry tomato from Sersi’s pile of ingredients. “Very cool.”

“What’s very cool?” 

You freeze, the tomato halfway to your mouth. Your brain decides to conveniently shut down just as Ajak appears in the doorway and saunters into the kitchen.

“Uh, nothing,” you manage to stutter out. “We were just making dinner.”

Sersi grins and holds up a spoon. “Would you like to taste some? Y/N joined to help today.”

“Oh?” Ajak takes the spoon and dips it into the sauce. She meets your eyes, and your breath catches a little in your throat. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

“I don’t,” you say. You don’t think your ability to make Kraft mac and cheese is what she means. 

Ajak tastes the sauce, her eyes falling shut as she lets out a pleased hum, and you feel yourself blushing completely against your will. You try desperately to find something clever to say – that’s your trademark, after all: witty responses and always, always, the last word. Recently, though, Ajak’s presence is enough to leave your mind empty. 

It’s very disconcerting.

“It’s delicious,” Ajak praises, setting the spoon down. “Is that saffron I’m tasting?”

You blink. You have no idea.

Thankfully, Sersi picks up immediately, and Ajak gets sucked into a conversation about spices and cooking. You don’t really catch the details, but you watch them dopily – specifically Ajak. Her eyes light up as she talks, and you can’t help but smile softly at her excitement.

“You really are screwed, aren’t you?” Kingo says, pulling you out of your haze.

“What?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“You’re so in love with Ajak. It’s kind of gross. But also kind of cute.” Kingo grimaces. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

You frown. That’s not true. 

Right?

“I’m not in love with her,” you say.

Kingo watches you pityingly and pats your arm consolingly. “It’s okay. You’ll figure it out soon.”

~

A few days later, you’ve just defeated a group of deviants, and the rest of the team has headed down to the main square for the celebration. You’d gone back to the Domo to freshen up, so you’re a little late as you step into the square.

It’s crowded – the entire city’s come out to celebrate your victory – and you scan the crowd, looking for the rest of your team. You spot Sprite storytelling in the middle of the square, Kingo breakdancing in a corner, and… ah. The rest of your team is sitting at a table in another corner, and you weave your way through the crowd, smiling at strangers as you work your way to your team.

“Hey,” you say when you finally reach them, dropping into the empty seat. Ajak smiles softly at you from across the table, and you fight desperately against the blush you know is rising in your cheeks.

“You’re here!” Gilgamesh grins and claps you on the back.

“We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” Thena says, raising an eyebrow.

“I had to freshen up,” you tell them, nodding a thanks to Phastos as he slides you a drink.

You sniff it, grimacing at the smell, but you chug it down anyway. It burns as it slides down your throat, but it immediately warms your chest, and you sigh, feeling a little bit looser.

“Are we not dancing?” you ask, setting the mug down.

“Oh, we are,” Druig says. He stands and pulls Makkari towards the middle of the courtyard, and they disappear into the crowd. 

The rest follow in quick succession, and you stand, about to join them when you realize that Ajak hasn’t moved from where she’s sitting.

“Ajak? You’re not dancing?” you ask, emboldened by your victory tonight and the excitement in the air.

Ajak smiles warmly. “I don’t dance, but you go. Have fun.”

“Oh, that’s not going to work. You never dance,” you say, pouting playfully. “Come on. Dance with me.”

Ajak shakes her head, but you reach for her hand and pull her up, beaming. Her resistance melts almost immediately, and you use your hold on her hand to tug her towards the music. When you reach the middle of the courtyard, you loop her arms around your neck, moving your own hands to her waist. You sway to the music, pulling her closer until your bodies are pressed up against each other.

“You’re so stiff,” you tease into her ear, feeling the way she shivers against you. “Move with me.”

It takes a few minutes, but soon, she’s loosened up enough that you’re swaying against each other and laughing. Ajak twists in your arms, and suddenly, you’re painfully aware of how close you are, how the moonlight shines in her hair and makes her eyes glow, and she’s so beautiful. 

You’re not sure who leans in, but then you’re kissing, and you melt into her with a sigh. When she pulls away, you lean in, trying to chase her lips.

“We shouldn’t,” she says, and you feel a bucket of cold water crash over you. But then she continues, “not here. Come with me.”

You follow her hazily, not really sure where you’re going until she leads you back to the Domo and into her bedroom.

Oh.

“I like the way you think,” you say, grinning, and you pull her in again, kissing her softly.

She moans softly into the kiss, and your eyes widen at the sound – you want to hear it over and over again. You let your instincts take over as you push her back until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she falls back onto the mattress. You continue kissing her, only breaking away to press butterfly kisses down her neck.

“Can I take your dress off?” you murmur against her skin, playing with the zipper.

Ajak nods, and you help her slide the dress off. Underneath, she’s wearing a set of black lace that highlights her curves, and you pull back just to stare unashamedly for a second.

“Like what you see?” Ajak smirks and arches her back into you, pushing her breasts out.

You groan and reach for her, unclasping her bra with skilled fingers and throwing it somewhere on the floor. You roll her nipple between her fingers, feeling the way it hardens at the touch, and Ajak moans, eyes falling shut.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say reverently. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me, too,” Ajak says, her voice catching on a whine when you release her nipples and scratch your fingers down her toned stomach.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of her panties, waiting for her nod of confirmation before you dare pull them off. You slide a finger through her, your eyes widening when you realize just how wet she already is.

“You’re so wet,” you murmur, lifting your glistening fingers for her to see. “All for me?”

Ajak blushes and nods. “All for you.”

“Good,” you say because the last thing you want her to be is embarrassed, and you kiss her again, your fingers returning to their position between her legs. 

You keep your touch feather light until she whines and bucks her hips, and you chuckle softly before gently easing two fingers into her. You gently thrust your fingers, and she moans desperately.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, partly to tease her and partly to make sure that you’re making her feel good. You don’t want to screw this up after so long of waiting.

“So good.” Ajak bucks her hips into your hand, and you speed up your movements, crooking your fingers.

Ajak’s close — you can tell from the way her walls are fluttering around your fingers — and you bring your thumb down to her clit, tracing tight circles. It takes less than a minute before Ajak’s entire body locks up, arching off the bed, and she crashes over the edge with a keen. You work her through it, whispering soft praises in her ear until she relaxes against the sheets.

“Kiss me?” she requests, and you obey immediately, kissing her softly.

Ajak breaks away with a smirk and flips you onto your back before you realize what’s happening. “Your turn.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Give me your best.”

Ajak doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she shoves your dress up and off of you and yanks your panties off, pressing your legs apart with her palms. She slides down on the bed and fits herself between your legs, winking at you before she leans in. 

The first touch of her tongue on you makes you gasp, and you clench your fingers in the sheets. She starts off slow, lapping lazily at you, and you whine, arching into her mouth.

“More?” she asks, and you nod frantically.

She dives back in, more purposeful this time. You let go of the sheets in favor of weaving your fingers through her hair. You don’t dare tug, but the touch is grounding all the same as she continues to work you. She’s insanely good with her tongue, and it only takes a few moments before you’re close.

She seems to know because she adds her fingers to the mix and latches onto your clit and sucks, and you’re toppling over the edge, groaning. You hear her whisper in your ear, but you can’t make out the words.

When you come back to, your fingers are clenched tightly in her hair, and you let go immediately, wincing.

“Sorry,” you say, still a little breathless.

“Don’t be,” comes Ajak’s immediate reply. “You’re so pretty when you come.”

She winks at you, and you blush as she moves up next to you on the bed. You’re not really sure what to do, but Ajak makes that decision for you by rolling onto you and laying half on top of your body. You run your fingers through her hair, smiling softly. 

It’s at this moment that Kingo’s words click into place. You freeze, and Ajak lifts her head, frowning.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Ajak asks, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Are you alright?”

“I love you,” you blurt, unable to hold the words in.

If Ajak’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she smiles and kisses you on the cheek. “I love you, too.”

“Okay,” you say, a little flustered. You had expected some kind of rejection, but this is definitely way better.

Ajak chuckles. “Okay.”

Ajak’s breaths begin to even out, and you let them lull you to sleep.

~

When you wake up the next morning, your dress is nowhere to be found. You’re still wearing your bra, and you find your discarded panties on the floor, so you slip those on before padding out of the room.

“Ajak, have you seen my dress?” You don’t look up until the last minute.

When you do, ten pairs of eyes look back at you. Ten pairs of very shocked eyes look back at you.

Kingo recovers first.

“Good morning!” he says brightly, tossing you a sweatshirt. You send him a silent thank you as you throw it on. “Hope you slept well!”

“I did,” you say, lifting your chin and trying to appear as nonchalant as you possibly can. You defeat deviants on a regular basis – you can handle breakfast with your team.

“Please never do that again,” Phastos says as you round the kitchen to where Ajak’s standing.

“Why?” You wink. “Not a fan?”

Thena rolls her eyes as she hands you a cup of coffee. “Not all of us want to see you naked, Y/N.”

Ajak grimaces. “Sorry. I thought they’d still be in the city.”

“No worries.” You kiss her softly. You’re both smiling when you pull away. “Pancakes?”

She hands you a plate, already drizzled in syrup and butter. “Of course, my love.”

The rest of the team has gone silent again. And then, the room erupts.

“I’m not going crazy, right?” Phastos looks around wildly. “That was definitely a kiss. On the lips.”

Makkari signs, “Did Y/N come out of Ajak’s room wearing that?”

“That’s so sweet,” Sersi says, beaming.

“That’s so disgusting,” Sprite says, not beaming.

In the corner of the room, Kingo fist bumps Thena.

“We’re going to go have a nice breakfast now,” you say loudly, and usher Ajak out of the kitchen. “Have a good day. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Seriously! You don’t realize how creepy it is when you’re smiling while I’m reading a very graphic piece about how a man’s head was bashed in,” Foggy exclaimed. “You’ve got a real wicked smile, Matt. Yet the ladies keep falling at your feet.”

Matt just shook his head and let out a breathy laugh, and continued reading the note he had found in the small pocket on the inside of his suit, his fingers tracing the braille. He was savouring every word, every sentence and was reading as slow as he could, unable to let it end.

This was only the third note of yours he had found in the last week.

A little while ago, you had bought a translator and a braille printer, and after figuring out how it worked, you started printing label after label, note after note and you tried to learn some braille too. All that with the help of Matt, of course, his digits helping yours find the dots as the kisses on your neck distracted you from studying.

Then last week, Matt’s usual coffee cup was dirty, so as he got out another one, he heard the slight scratch of paper against porcelain. He turned over the cup and a small note fell into his hand.

He immediately smelled the trace of perfume that still stuck to the piece of paper, the floral scent that you wore daily.

Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love. - You’d almost think this was about you, M.

The empty mug was forgotten on the counter as he read the little note over and over again, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he couldn’t believe you’d left a little note in a mug he almost never used, waiting there in hopes of him reading it one day.

As he got to the office, Karen and Foggy taunted him as he couldn’t wipe the lovesick smile from his face.

A day later, as he returned from his nightly activities with a big welt on his head, he found one in the freezer too, on top of the bag of frozen peas that served as an ice-pack.

I think you are suffering from a lack of vitamin ME - call me if you read this. I’ll come patch you up.

But the one he found in the inside pocket of his suit was more than just a silly quote with a little comment. This one was a poem, one that you had written, poured your heart and soul into. And the smile on his face was just a natural reaction to words that he never thought he’d hear someone say to him.

“Oh-kay, if you’re reading some kind of porn just let me know so I can pack my things and get out of this office of sin,” Foggy spoke up again, closing the binder and getting up to stretch his limbs, his eyes watchful as he scanned Matt’s face once again.

“It’s impossible to work with you, I don’t know why I ever wanted to start this practice with you,” Foggy trailed off, muttering the words even though he knew Matt still heard them.

“Foggy, it’s- it’s just a poem,” Matt sighed, carefully putting the poem in the top drawer of his desk, wanting to read it over and over again, until the paper was thinned out. He’d just ask you to write it again.

“She writes you poems?” Foggy said, leaning against the side of the door as he hoisted his bag on his other shoulder. “I’m convinced you hypnotize women with your crazy voodoo skills.

“Hypnotize for one for me too, will ya,” he joked, plucking his scarf from the coat hanger and wrapping it around his neck. “No, never mind, that sounds very wrong.”

“See you tomorrow, Foggy,” Matt just replied, a gentle smile on his face as his friend bid him goodbye.

It was a small piece of paper, a combination of braille and printed words on it, as it lay waiting on Foggy’s desk.

There are friends. There is family. And there are friends that become family.

“Matthew Murdock, you blind bastard,” Foggy exclaimed after reading the message and looking at the accompanying bag of fresh coffee grounds. “I can’t even be fake mad, this is absolutely adorable. ”

“Gotta do something to keep my best employee happy,” Matt mused, taking off his glasses as he closed the door of the office behind him. “But it was all her idea, she even got up early to drop it off.”

“Tell her I said thank you.”

In the mornings, you showed up just in time for your classes, the rumble of the car’s engine coming to a low hum as the pop music continued playing, the strums of guitars flowing through the open windows. You only got out of the car after the song was over. After school, you either drove a friend home or you speeded off to work at your dad’s auto shop. 

That car was your baby. It was the only one in the school car park that always had a fresh coat of wax, never a scratch to be found on the smooth burgundy paintwork and never had problems turning on, in comparison to some of the beat-up cars that people drove to school with. Steve supposed caring for your car was in your DNA, a hand-me-down from your father, the town mechanic known for his ability to fix any problem.

Maybe there should be a separate category for you in the classification of kids at school: the quiet kid with the dope car and great music taste.

Steve knew he had become quite smitten with you once he saw all the cassettes in a box on the passenger seat when he walked by, a bit bored when waiting for Dustin to get out of school. They ranged from local indie bands to bigger names like Joy Division. It wasn’t the music that made him look out for you though, it was the seatbelt that you had wrapped around the box, safekeeping it in case you ever got into an accident. It was that little instance that made Steve fall hopelessly in love. 

Steve had wanted to ask you out for prom, or just a normal date really, but his busy life (slaying Demogorgon’s and Mindflayers) combined with your absence in after school activities made that quite impossible. You never even showed up in Starcourt Mall for ice cream at Scoops Ahoy!, though it was the only place where you could get decent ice cream. Then the whole mall thing happened and well, apparently you weren’t someone who lent movies on the regular either.

Now, he was working in the video store and you were finishing your senior year, and he still hadn’t found an opportunity to ask you out. Even Robin had slapped him on the back of his head, urging him to finally do something before you left the state for college, instead of sulking in the video store and creating fictional scenarios that would never happen.  

An opportunity arose when the little check engine light came up on his dashboard, the yellowish sign usually a bad omen - however, this time it felt like a little sign of hope. 

Usually, he’d try to figure out what the problem was by himself, often cursing at the oil that seemed to stain every piece of clothing he owned to eventually give up and drive to the shop at the edge of the town, but this time around he drove over to your father’s shop in hopes of seeing you.

The shop was as busy as ever, with three repair men sliding under the hoods of cars, while your dad was operating the hydraulic press to lift an expensive sports car in the air.

Steve guessed you’d be in the back filing paperwork, but to his surprise, you popped up from behind a cabinet with tools in greasy overalls, a machine in your hands he’d never seen before.

Your dad called your name and pointed to Steve, “help him out will ya, he looks like a classmate of yours.”

You gave your dad a thumbs up and delivered the machine to one of the repairmen before going over to Steve.

“Sorry, my dad thinks anyone around my age is in my class,” you said apologetically, wiping your grease-stained palms on the overalls. “But you were at Hawkins High?”

Steve nodded, “graduated last year, yeah.”

His head was still spinning a bit from your sudden appearance, and he felt all the suave he once possessed slowly leave his body, like the air from a tire that quietly deflated. Aside from Nancy, that had never happened before. 

“You work at Family Video now, right?” you asked, seemingly not noticing his awkward behaviour as he scraped his throat and nodded vehemently.

“Yeah, yeah, how’d you know? I’ve never seen you at the store before.”

Steve quickly looked down at his feet, embarrassed that he just openly admitted to keeping tabs on you. “Well, I would’ve noticed you.”

A smile pulled on the edges of your lips as you noticed his flirtatious correction. 

“You wouldn’t have,” you corrected him. “People don’t quite notice me except when I’m working here or when they desperately need a ride home.”

Steve wanted to interject and say that you were someone people paid attention to, or at least that he paid attention to you, but you had already walked over to pop the hood of his car. 

“So the check engine light, huh,” you mumbled as you pulled into the driver’s side and checked the dashboard, before pulling on the latch that released the hood. “Should be easy.”

As you fully opened the hood, Steve came to stand next to you, his massive amount of hair creating a shadow of its own under the fluorescent lights in the workshop.

“I didn’t know you repaired cars, I thought you would do paperwork or something,” Steve said, “though it does explain your car’s mint condition.”

You momentarily stopped checking the condition of the engine to peer at his face out of the corners of your eyes. “I am kinda obsessed with keeping it clean, guess it runs in the family. How did you know though?”

“I first noticed you last year, I think you had forgotten something in your car, a notebook I guess, and then later I saw you had this incredible cassette collection which you had carefully put on the passenger’s seat with the seatbelt on,” Steve said, recounting the events that happened a year ago. “Yeah, ever since then you’ve been on my radar.”

“On your radar? Since last year?” 

Steve had been thinking about you since last year, and you had no clue why. There were so many other girls that would be a better fit next to him, so many others that did have the right connections and were invited to every party. Others that were into cheerleading or into track & field, not a girl who liked to work on cars in her spare time and had grease stains on any piece of visible skin.

“Yeah, been wanting to ask you out, but I guess life came in between,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as a slight blush crept up his cheeks. These demogorgons and their ability to derail his life. When would the most difficult thing in his life be asking out a pretty girl again? 

“You? Asking me out?”

Your answers were short; your brain was shortcircuiting at the possibility of Steve Harrington pining after you for a year, rambling his ass off in front of you because yes, he was nervous.

You looked back down at the engine, deep in thought as you tried to process everything. Rubbing your forehead in thought, you were oblivious to the grease that now stuck to your face. 

The once king of Hawkins high turned part-time babysitter stood here, on the verge of asking you out and you were wearing greasy overalls that desperately needed a wash. What kind of backwards or upside-down world were you living in all of a sudden?

As Steve was looking at the engine as well, anxiously fumbling with his fingers, he was sure you’d either reject him or just laugh at him. Maybe fighting all these interdimensional beasts had given him too big of an ego. Maybe this was the moment where his inflated ego finally got the punch it needed, though he did wonder if he hadn’t endured enough these last few years.

Suddenly, you saw what was wrong.

“It’s a spark plug,” you pointed at it. “It’s broken.”

“A what?” Steve asked, completely forgotten why he was even here in the first place. Right, his stupid car. Not only would he walk off without a date with you, it probably would cost him his weekly salary at the video store. 

“I can easily replace it,” you replied, ignoring his statement as you pulled a rolling table with equipment closer to you. “It’s nothing, really.”

Steve watched you quickly replace the spark plug, his eyes looking at the quick and confident movements of your hands in the engine. It only took a few minutes before you led the hood close with a loud bang, waking him up from his anxious daydreams.

“Here,” you held out the broken piece of equipment, a simple smile on your face. “I’d love to go out with you, Steve.”

Steve mindlessly accepted the broken spark plug, his thoughts making a 180. Did the sun all of a sudden make an appearance in the workshop or was it just him imagining the sunrays that appeared behind you all of a sudden? It seemed like he couldn’t contain his joy now that he finally had a positive answer. Robin would finally stop pestering him, too.

“We can do dinner and a movie if you want,” he proposed, a safe option he knew most people liked. “Or anything else really, you decide.”

“I’ve been dying to go to the drive-in movies if you don’t mind,” you said, rubbing your once again dirty hands on your overalls. “They’re playing a new one tomorrow night if you’re free?”

Steve nodded, his lips pulled in a smile as he played with the spark plug in his hands. 5 different demodogs could try and attack him right now and he’d win without a doubt. 

“You have a little smear of grease,” he said, tapping your forehead lightly with his finger. “Don’t think they’ll let you in if you look like that.”

“I don’t think they’ll see if I’m in the car, dummy,” you shook your head, both out of embarrassment and to get rid of the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Steve asked, his hand now in his pocket as the other fiddled with the spark plug. “Or you could pick me up too, although it seems that your cassettes get to shotgun.”

A giggle bubbled up as you watched the man in front of you, a timid smile plastered on his face. 

“The cassettes are shotgunning, so you can pick me up. Seven works for you?”

“I’ll be here,” he tipped his head. “But, what do I do with this now?”

He held out the spark plug again, unsure what to do with the little broken device now that it was replaced. 

You stepped up to him and closed his fist around it with your own fingers, careful to not smear any grease on him. “Keepsakes. Bet you could tell a great story about it to those little friends of yours.”

Your hand enclosed his softly, and Steve looked down at your face which was so close all of a sudden. He didn’t know if he could breathe again, your eyes mesmerising him. 

“Dustin is a curious little shit, you’re right,” Steve said, now pocketing the spark plug and completely ignoring the black that would inevitably stain his clothes once more. Oh well, he couldn’t care less at the moment. Every time he’d see the black smear, he’d be reminded of the small grease stain on your forehead from this moment and it would always bring a fond smile to his face, wherever he was.

“The spark plug is on me, by the way,” you said as you stepped back, looking at another mechanic that seemed to need your help. “Just bring some snacks!”

Steve waved in acknowledgement and stepped back in his car, the check engine light back to its previous state. Somehow, even in his daydreams, this moment was more perfect than any he ever thought of.

When he arrived at the video store for his shift, Robin immediately commented on the lovesick smile on his face.

“You finally asked her out? Tell me everything!”

After telling Robin everything while restocking the movie cassettes on the shelves, they devised a plan together on which snacks he had to bring, what music he had to bring with him for the drive over and if he had to bring a blanket (to share with you) or bring you a jacket of his.