#I usually try not to tag people in something more than one time in one day... but I'm emotional over a fluff ball rn...

[giddyfatherchris]

A movie i've seen before III

pairing. bang chan x f!reader

type. not requested, a little fluff and a whole lot of angst

warnings. f!reader, crying, relationships issues, trust issues, angst angst ANGST

wc. 4k

a/n. here we go part 3!! this one will be rough LMAO it took me so long to write it and it made me so angsty when i did buuuuuut i kinda love it and ive been having a whole lot of fun writing sm angst even though im so nervous to post this since its not in my "usual" style… anyway i hope you’ll enjoy mwah xx oh and! i love to listen to music when im writing and reading so here’s a few song i had on repeat while writing this: guilty as sin - taylor swift, ceilings - lizzy mcalpine, i wish i hated you - ariana grande (in this order specifically!)

dont forget to tell me if you want to be added to the tag list for the next part x

part I part II

(pics are not mine! credit to the owners!)

The streets were softly illuminated. Restaurants and little bars were stuffed with people laughing and enjoying the gorgeous night. You looked around and felt a wave of glee wash over you. You loved people-watching, the freedom of the soft wind dancing through your hair, and most of all, you loved being here with him.

Rehearsals had been a flying success. The boys had been so excited to see some of their friends and the day flew by in a second. When you returned to the hotel, you should have been exhausted from such an intense and packed day. Still, all you felt was excitement and energy course through your blood at the prospect of the coming evening. Once you made sure the other boys were settled, they all encouraged you to go out, have some fun, and take advantage of being in the famous French city. Even Felix gave you an encouraging smile as you headed out, Chan by your side.

At first, he had been reluctant about your night out with his leader. He was scared for your heart. At the same time, he knew how hard you always worked and as he helped you decide on an outfit, he realized it had been a long time since he saw you this excited. So despite his reserves, he helped you figure out a cute outfit with a genuine smile. You deserved to enjoy the city and have fun after all your hard work. No matter what would come out of this night, he would be there for you and that's what mattered the most.

Even though you had spent the last few weeks making sure you kept a certain distance between you and the man at your side, you decided not to care about it tonight. You were tired, extenuated from trying to guard your heart. Chan's attitude in the past few weeks seemed different. Maybe Felix was wrong, perhaps he was ready for something more. So tonight you would be yourself, and enjoy whatever happened. You decided you deserved it. So you didn't refrain from doing anything you might have done before or wanted to do now. You let Chan hold your hand as you walked through the city. You let him hand-feed you a bite of his plate as you chatted in the restaurant. You let him take pictures of you as you walked near the Seine, an honest smile on your lips. You didn't hold back from replacing his curls once the wind had disheveled them. You didn't hold back from laying your head on his shoulder as you looked at the magical view.

You hadn't noticed, but every little touch or attention planted seeds of hope in your heart.

As for him, Chan seemed to beam at the returned normalcy of your relationship. He was more touchy than ever, a sparkle illuminating his eyes as he made jokes with the sole purpose of gorging himself on the sight of the adorable crinkles around your eyes. He shivered at the feather-light touch of your fingers on him when you made sure he looked perfect for some pictures he intended to post on Instagram for his dear STAYs. You gave a toothy grin as you pinched his cheeks before stepping away for more pictures. He didn't hesitate before asking a stranger with a broken French if they could snap one of you two. An amused light danced in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath when you felt his hand slide on your hips, bringing you closer to him for the picture. You lifted your eyes for a millisecond, a foreign but gentle expression on your face. He looked at you with the softest, most tender smile, before you gave him one in return, and rested your head and hand on his chest. You could swear you felt the thundering beat of his heart beneath his shirt. Or maybe you were mistaking it for your own, reverberating in your whole body.

"Vous êtes très mignons," complimented the stranger with a kind smile and a subtle wink.

You thanked him with rosy cheeks, not daring to comment. Chan came up behind you, asking what the stranger had said exactly, but you barely registered the words as you looked at the pictures on your phone. They were stunning. The lights, the view, but most strikingly, the way you looked together. Your heart skipped a beat as you swiped to see the picture the man had taken when you weren't posed yet. When you were still looking at Chan with that surprised and delighted expression and he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. He saw the picture and put his hand on your shoulders.

"They're beautiful," he said in a hushed voice as if the emotion currently gripping you had its claws dug deep in him too.

You looked back at him with a smile, trying to slow the fast pace of your beating heart. Ancient fears tried grabbing at your heart, but you pushed them away, holding on to your promise. He nodded towards the street, encouraging you to keep walking. His hand grabbed yours effortlessly and squeezed once before he started to walk. Soon, the Eiffel Tower appeared, and you couldn't hold a gasp from escaping your lips.

It was beautiful, stark on the starry night sky, illuminated like a beacon in the dark. Chan chuckled at your marvel and looked fondly at you as you ushered him to walk faster.

You settled on a park bench, his arm going around your shoulders as you cuddled into his side.

"This is perfect," you whispered after a moment of silent contemplation.

"It is," he answered, his lips so close that if he moved a little they would connect with your forehead.

"I'm really happy to be here with you. Thank you for everything."

The man's heart tightened at your words. "No, thank you," his words felt choked and you backed away enough to face him. "You are so amazing. You're the best at handling us and you’re you're so organized. I don't know how we would deal without you and I don't mean just at work. You're truly such a special person to us... to me." Stars danced in your eyes as you looked at him, so open, so inviting. "Thank you for being in my life. I don't know what I would do without you." Softly his lips touched your forehead in a tender kiss. You closed your eyes relishing in the warmth they spread on your skin. Never before had he been so honest about his feelings in your regard. The little declaration made your heart beat even faster. Seeds of hope were slowly blossoming into small, delicate flowers. Maybe, just maybe your proximity tonight meant more for him than you imagined.

Your eyes stayed closed even as he pulled away, even as he softly stroked the side of your face with his thumb. You were so scared to open them, terrified to know what would happen, what you would read on his angelic face. He brought you closer, so close you could feel his breath mingling with yours. You waited, incapable of opening your eyes.

"Y/n," he uttered softly. "Please, look at me."

You obeyed, softly batting your eyelashes, and felt electrified as the intensity contained in his eyes struck you. His gaze slowly tumbled to your soft lips, slightly opened, puffing each breath. His eyes came back up a second with a silent question. You knew he would not do anything before you said yes and it made your heart bloom as you nodded imperceptibly. And just like that, he linked his plush lips with yours. It was earth-shattering in a soft and shaking to the core way.

You backed away for a second to catch your breath and this time was the one to lift your hand, softly pulling at his shirt as you kissed him once more. This second kiss was still soft, but so deep, so full of emotions. It made your hands tremble. You moved in tandem, both the only people in the world who knew the rhythm of this foreign dance. The kiss made you feel tingly like nothing else maintained you to the earth except for his hands on your cheek and his lips on yours. It grew, both of you wanting, needing more. Your hands went up to his jaw, softly caressing the soft skin there, the skin you had wished to touch so many times. A low grumble echoed in his chest, the vibration almost making you purr back. You separated softly, slowly, stealing little kisses before resting your foreheads together, catching your breaths. His thumb fell on your bottom lip, softly plucking it apart from the top one. He was enthralled by the shallow breath you exhaled. Slowly, but surely you remembered where you were. You remembered you were sitting on a bench in France, and you realized you had just kissed. Panic slowly spread through your gaze, threatening to overpower the feeling of daze you had been previously bathed in. He noticed and a shadow seemed to pass in his eyes but before you could analyze it or say something he kissed your lips again. You had no idea what that little peck meant, and he didn't seem to know either but still, he smiled.

"You want to go back?" he whispered, his head still pressed to yours. You nodded quickly and took his hand as you walked back, your mind racing even as it clawed to stay in the daze it had been in for the whole night.

He held your hand on the way back until you felt its warmth leave yours to replace a few errant strands of his hair and didn't find it again. You tried not overthinking. He was allowed not to touch you at all times even after you had shared a kiss. And the fact that he had been all over you all night and suddenly wouldn't hold your hand didn't mean anything, right? You tried reasoning with yourself but couldn't deny that the sudden loss of his touch made an insidious cold creep into your bones.

As you approached the hotel and entered the lobby, Chan was so very polite and cordial. He kept his gaze straight forward and gave a polite smile to the few staff you encountered but didn't say a word to you. Long gone was the laid-back and giggly man you had spent the evening with. The ride in the elevator was silent, and not the kind of comfortable one you had experienced so many times. This one was heavy, full of meaning. You could feel regret emanating from his every gesture. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but you held on, not wanting him to know how much this affected you.

Felix had warned you that Chan did not have the space in his life for a partner. You knew it, but still, you allowed yourself to let down your guard, and enjoy your time with him. What happened tonight could never happen again. The way this sole kiss had made you feel was to be used as a warning. If one night with him, carefree, had made you feel such a way... you had to keep your distance and be careful. If you let this go on, it would destroy you. You knew it now. Doing this tonight was a mistake because you didn't just like him. You were incontestably in love with Christopher Chan Bahng. And he wasn't and couldn't be because of everything he was.

He walked you to your room and stopped in front of the door. With your hand on the handle, you looked back at him, trying and failing to hide the pain in your eyes.

"Y/n, about tonight I-..." he started.

"Don't," you breathed out. "I know Chan. It won't happen again. I know it didn't mean anything." He shuffled in place, not even denying your claim. Your heart crumpled in pieces, nausea seizing you. "Don't worry about it," you finally whispered as you closed the door on him, on the possibility of him and everything he meant to you.

The little light of hope you felt earlier had been brutally put out. Delicate flowers ripped from their soil with an all-encompassing pain.

You got up the next day feeling like you had been ran over by a truck. Usually, you were a fast and heavy sleeper, but insomnia had seized you until the late hours of the night. But concert day would show you no pity. You had a job to do, and so you plastered a smile on your face and focused on the tasks at hand. You concentrated on compartmentalizing and acting like nothing happened, telling the boys about your amazing night, while omitting the kiss. The show went splendidly well, the boys gained many new supporters with this performance it was nothing short of a flying success. You struggled to feel anything as they smiled at you and spoke excitedly on the drive back to the airport. Once on the plane, you watched Chan sit down with a sour feeling in your chest. In the next row, Felix signaled for you to sit next to him but you couldn't. You hadn't told him the truth about your night, you weren't ready to face the possible 'I told you so' or worse, his tender compassion. Spotting an empty seat beside Minho, you stopped in front of him. "Can I sit here?" At his questioning look you allowed him to see an ounce of the sadness you carried. "Please, I just... don't want to be disturbed," you shared in a small voice.

Immediately his eyes took on a protective expression, he nodded and patted the window seat next to him. Relieved to know no one would get past your protector, you allowed sleep to swallow you and your pain, only waking up once you landed in Korea.

Cars sporadically zoomed by, their lights blinding you and making your eyes squeeze in pain, which actually wasn't that bad a thing considering how tired you were. The zaps of light were at least keeping you awake. The intense few days had taken a great toll on everyone, and the 12-hour flight on top did not help. Still, being the best one in shape you volunteered to drive. Chan in the passenger seat silently stared out the window while the boys were piled up in the back, sleeping peacefully.

You rubbed your eyes for the tenth time, hoping to finally get rid of the fatigue weighing on your bones that made your eyelids feel so damn heavy.

"If you're tired, I can drive."

You turned your head to find Chan staring at you. "I'm fine."

"I don't think you are. You have been rubbing your eyes and puffing for 20 minutes now. I got plenty of rest, I can drive the rest of the way."

You tightened your grip on the wheel, "I told you I didn't need you to."

"It's dangerous to drive when you're tired."

"Are you done?!" you lashed out. Turning your head to look at him you swerved on the road. Luckily there hadn't been any other cars, but your heart was beating out of your chest and you suddenly felt wide awake.

Chan stared at you with wide eyes for a second. "Okay, that's it. Pull over."

"No-"

"Y/n. Right now you're putting yourself and my members in danger. I can't allow that."

The sternness of his tone and a look in the mirror at the boys made you pull begrudgingly. You slammed the door and avoided his eyes while you switched sides. He tried to get ahold of you to apologize, but you pulled back as if the contact of his hands on your skin burned you.

"Y/n what's going on?"

"What's going on is that I'm tired. I'm exhausted," you sarcastically chuckled.

He wiped his eyes and sighed. "Listen, I get that but we all are."

You tried to bite your tongue to stop the words from coming out of your mouth but in the end, you couldn't. Maybe it was the extreme fatigue or emotional turmoil you had been going through for the past few weeks but you simply couldn't. You heard yourself speak words you never thought you would. "No. I mean that being in love with you is exhausting."

His arms slackened at his sides as his eyes grew big as saucers.

"You heard me right. I am in love with you. I should have known before, but our night in Paris confirmed that."

"Y/n... I can't give you or anyone anything more, specifically because of that. Being with me is exhausting. I already know that."

Irritation lit a fire in your blood. You were so done with this stupid man and his stupid beliefs that made him act like some fucking martyr, like the center of his soul was the problem while it had never been.

"Can you please stop? I'm tired of hearing you whine about how exhausting you are. No. It's not the actual loving you that's exhausting. You are lovable Chris as much as anyone else and to me even more than others. What's been exhausting is those past few weeks, this night we spent together. It's officially knowing you will never be able to return my feelings but knowing you still acted like you could. Holding my hand, looking at me with that smile. Telling me those nice things. Kissing me like I'm the best thing in your life. It's you playing with me that's killing me."

Tears of rage started rolling down your cheeks and for once you didn't want to keep them in. You wanted him to see how much pain he caused you.

"I never played with you I promise. I really do like you and enjoy being with you. That was never fake."

You let out an icy, short laugh. "And you think that makes it better? That is the definition of playing with someone Chan. A minute ago you told me you couldn't give me anything more. Now you're saying you meant everything. You're admitting to doing all those things even though you knew you never wanted more. And don't try to lie and tell me you were doing this for me or to try and see if you could actually be with me. You only did it for yourself, with your interests in mind. You wanted what I can give you without actually committing."

He dropped his gaze to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with you. He seemed defeated and his silence was nothing short of a confirmation of everything you accused him of. For the first time a word you would have never used in a thousand years to describe him came to mind. You took a step closer, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you enjoy being with me. Everyone wants to be loved, and feel they matter but you act like you don't because you're afraid of what it entails. You're a coward," you seethed. "You build this wall around you, pretending you don't want anyone to love you the way you love them because you want to protect them, because you are just so noble and kind." You paused and scoffed, allowing time for your words to sink in. "But the truth is you're just scared. You're scared shitless Christopher. Scared not to be enough. Scared to be rejected. Scared to experience pain and loss. Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE is scared of those things. The difference is we still try."

You took another step, your hands floating up to his face. "I know it means more to love you than it would mean to experience pain and fear." His face contorted as he tried to keep in tears. Your rage softened for a second and you rested your hand on his broad chest. Immediately his hand covered up yours. He took a breath, on the edge of saying something but you wouldn't allow it.

"At least that's what I used to believe." You slipped your hands from his and backed away. "I don't think I can anymore. Not when I have been shown so clearly that my feelings are not respected and understood for what they truly are. I love you, Chris. All I want to do is support and be there for you. I thought you just needed me to prove the depth of my love and I did so for the past year. I thought it would reassure you and kill that fear in your heart. I always thought you were such a kind and loving soul, that you just needed to see I really did love you for all you are. Now I'm starting to think maybe you are as emotionless as you try to make it seem to everyone." His brows furrowed at the accusation. "And you know what? I could even forgive that. I could forgive you if this was how you felt and you were honest with me about it. But no. You keep acting like you can one day return my feelings. You keep stringing me along." Your voice broke on the last words. It was hard to admit the truth. He had broken you in ways you could never explain. You were vulnerable, pathetically screaming at him from the side of the road. But you wouldn't stop. Now that you allowed yourself to be honest, words kept tumbling out of your mouth uncontrollably. You felt a rush to your head, you felt dizzy, feverish. "And you know what's the worst about it? I know about all of this and still, I can't even get rid of those stupid feelings. I wish I could trust myself not to fall further in love with you but I can't. Every time I see you it all comes back. I can't forget your stupid smile and your stupid dimples and your stupid hugs and that stupid kiss we shared."

A deep breath escaped your tired body. "I wish I hated you."

Those tiny, hushed-out words felt like a direct punch to the gut. Physically incapable of speaking, your words echoed in his head eclipsing any other thoughts.

You drew a painful breath. It was over. You said what needed to be said. And even if it did feel good in the moment, you were left an empty shell. Silently, you both got back in the car. Chan took your place in the driver seat while you sat with your hood pulled up facing the window. In the back, seven boys acted as if they were still asleep even when they had heard everything.

🏷️ list: @httpdwaekki @omgsecretsecret @lovesunshinefelix @luvstaymin @jupire @nebugalaxy @drewsandsebastianswife @whyyougottadothatbro @parisanmorovati @greyyeti @chanssmiles @wildtokay @my-neurodivergent-world @xotinytinaxo @ramadiiiisme @potentialgay

[jrow]

2024: Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @calaisreno! Your review got me thinking a lot about my writing this year.

As my kids are getting older, I am having trouble finding free time for myself. Because of that, 2024 had much less writing than years prior. Reading fic too, for that matter, but I hope to start getting through my massive MFL list soon!

In total, I posted just over 41,000 words over 3 stories. But, the time limitations also forced me to write things differently and take on new challenges. When May came along, I was itching to write something, so decided to try to base a story around short bits built around @calaisreno's May prompts. It definitely scratched the itch and I managed to post something every day! The resulting story was Open Your Eyes (T, Words = 17,073 over 31 chapters). Although the story could absolutely use a good edit, I think it hangs together pretty well given how it was written. I absolutely loved writing Rosie in this one, although I admit my fave chapters are the Mycroft POVs.

I participated in FTH 2024 knowing that it would help "force" me to write. And, luckily, my top bidder (72reasons) gave me a prompt that forced me out of my comfort zone again. For the first time ever, I posted an alternative first meeting, although I didn't quite manage to take it entirely out of canon. That story is Meet Ugly (T, Words = 9,766 over 5 chapters) and I had a lot of fun writing it. I am most pleased by comments that people find parts funny, because I admit I worked at that!

And then it was back to my bread and butter for my second FTH fic. To be honest, the timing was perfect. After writing a couple of stories that deviated from my usual style, I was pretty eager to write a more traditional case fic. But, I knew time wasn't on my side and forced myself to try to keep the fic shorter than usual. My goal was 10k and it ended up at 14,522, which isn't so far off ;). That fic is The Red-Headed League (T, 5 chapters), my update on the ACD story. I tried to think of an alternative update to the title, but couldn't think of anything that had the same "feel". I really appreciate all the love this one is getting. I like it, but the shorter length did create some challenges. I like the case part and I like the Rosie/Fam b-plot, but I don't think they are well integrated as in my other case fics (ie., I don't think it would be that difficult to pull them apart into two stories). I think part of what makes ACD short stories so great is how much plot (and relationship dynamics) is in so few words. But, I suppose ACD never worried about getting our protagonists together and that is a 100% requirement for my stories!

I am not sure what I'll tackle next. I have a few partly finished AUs, but I seem to have trouble bringing those to fruition (the amount of research needed seems insurmountable at times). Who knows though!

This ended up being pretty long, especially considering I started this post by saying I didn't have much time to write ... my gratitude to anyone whose made it to the end 💖💖💖💖💖!

I'm a bit late with this so I won't tag, but invite any one else to share their thoughts on their writing this year. I love to read them!

2024: Year in Review

This year I posted 14 stories, fewer than any other year, but my word count still hovers around 300k, as it has for several years.

This was my first year writing for Fandom Trumps Hate. My story, written for the very generous and lovely @LHRinchelsea, was The Disappointed Optimist's Guide to Sharing a Flat with a Madman. It was so rewarding to participate that I plan to offer a story again this year.

My favorite story I've written this year is Déjà Vu, a closing chapter for the Off Axis series. I may write more for that series, but this one is a story that brought a lot of closure for our heroes and their friends.

My second favorite: This is Family, a fill-in story for The Final Problem (S4Ep3). I combined this into a series with People We Love, an aftermath story I wrote in 2023. "Solving" The Final Problem was a very satisfying endeavour.

I had great fun writing my first Harry-centric story in October, When Harry Met Mary.

I'm closing the year with a parallel story for When We Were Young. My Heart at Your Door will finish posting in January 2025.

This was my second year doing the May Prompts event. In 2023 there were only a few of us, but this past year, it took off in a big way. I think I was tagging over 30 people with the daily prompt! As always, it was a lot of fun. This year we had a number of people writing daily limericks, an activity that has continued for the rest of 2024, and I hope will still be going strong in 2025. Thank you @Friday411 for inspiring that!

My number one project for 2025 is The Secret of Agra, a fic that I've been writing since 2020. I've called it a White Whale, but it might be more of a Frankenstein. 😆 It is finally coming together, though, and I hope to post in 2025.

I don't have any other specific writing goals for 2025. I have quite a happy writing groove, and many WIP that I hope to complete.

I'd love to hear what you are planning for 2025, if you'd like to share! Tagging:

@keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @totallysilvergirl @raina-at

@7-percent @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @copperplatebeech

@discordantwords @chriscalledmesweetie @holmesianlove

@khorazir @jrow @thegildedbee @ghostofnuggetspast

And anyone I've forgotten!

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 5

it really was a coincidence that you already had his number saved in your phone when he texted you.

jack: hey

one of your best friends, jenny, had another friend who came along with you all that night. she was a loud woman with blonde curls called anna and she was, you had now learned, engaged to a hockey player in the local nhl team. you'd never cared much for sports in general, and especially not hockey. anna was quick to catch up on that fact the morning after you met jack, when you were supposed to go out for brunch with jenny and anna happened to tag along.

the boy you were chatting to last night, jack, she had started, sipping her orange juice before continuing. you did get his name, right? he's a good friend of my fiancé, a great player too.

you had thought and hoped that she would be able to read from your uninterested expression that you wished for the conversation to end as soon as it started. however, she had not been the quickest to pick up on your hints.

i've never seen jack look at someone like that before, you should totally hit him up! he's single, you know.

you'd sure hope so, considering the things you were up to in his apartment.

you had told anna that you didn't want anything to do with him, but she had insisted; at least save his number, you never know!

jenny had agreed, going off for a moment about your (empty) love life and how you haven't really looked happy since you broke up with that boyfriend over a year ago. the whole conversation had made you nauseous, and you had eventually agreed to add his number to your contacts just to shut them up.

since then, you'd forgotten about it, until the moment he texted you. you spent about fifteen minutes trying to figure out some kind of response – what even do you say to "hey"?

you: how did you get my number? lol

you felt a little guilty right after sending it, the tone maybe a little harsh; you usually greeted people back when they texted you. but maybe it was for the best. you didn't want him to get any false hopes.

your phone pinged again just a minute later.

jack: from anna! she said you two talked abt me, that i should hit you up

jack: well, i WANTED to hit you up also. :)

it kind of scared you how quick your heart was to flutter in your chest. this was not supposed to happen. before you could even answer, yet another message appeared in the chat.

jack: you free for dinner tonight?

a man not afraid of a triple text should've excited you. instead you shook your head and typed a quick response.

you: dinner?...

jack: i want to take you out for dinner, is that okay?

you shouldn't even have considered it. you never before even considered meeting a one-night-stand again, especially not for dinner. maybe it was because the other part was never interested in it, maybe it was because you thought it was against all and any code of conduct. either way, it was just easier like that.

so why did your fingers suddenly live a life of their own? why was there a message from you saying yes to his request when you looked back down at your phone again?

he surprised you that night. you knew from the first time you met that he was a good listener – though, you had assumed it was just because he was trying to woo you enough to go home with him – but he was a great talker, too. not in the sense that he talked a lot, but in the sense that whenever he did talk, you found yourself realizing he was more complicated than you initially thought. he wasn't just trying to win you over; he was trying to let you see him, piece by piece, each one carefully chosen.

you didn't know what the procedures or rules were when it came to this kind of meeting. was it a date? was it just a pre-hookup meal? was it something more? nonetheless, you weren't surprised that the dinner ended with you following him home to his apartment.

he wasn't just good at listening and talking, but at making you feel good, too. you knew you were already walking on the fine line between a regular hookup and something else – not that you were sure what the other thing would be. friends with benefits (could you even be friends with benefits if you weren't friends to start with?), fuck buddies (is there even such a thing these days?), or something completely different?

curled up into his side with a duvet lazily thrown across your stomach, you distracted yourself from your many thoughts by drawing shapes into his chest. little stars, quirky stick figures, ugly cats. "something on your mind?" he asked, a chuckle rumbling beneath his chest at the sight of you cuddling closer to him.

"this... hockey thing," you started, gazing up at him for the first time in a long while. "you're pretty good, aren't you?"

there was a shrug of his shoulder, though his expression stayed plain. "i guess so."

"you have your own wikipedia page. and you were some kind of first pick, whatever that means." this, however, forced his lips into a grin. "that's not just pretty good. that's amazing."

"i guess so."

he yelped at the feeling of your hand slapping his chest, a groan slipping past his lips. "why didn't you tell me? when we first met?"

"you didn't seem like you cared," he said honestly, and you pushed yourself up a little on the bed to look at him better. "so i didn't think it was necessary. besides, it's a job like any other."

"i told you all about my studies, and you just said that you work with hockey!" you exclaimed, fingers forming quotation marks in the air. "that's hardly fair, and it's not a common job!"

"i was wearing a team cap! i assumed that if you knew, you'd say something!"

you merely shook your head, pausing for a few moments to just stare at him. "i'll forgive you for now," you say, puckering your lips. "for the low price of five kisses."

"taken."

the thing that surprised you the most was how much you enjoyed spending time with him, how easy it felt. he was handsome and had a sweet smile and he was a great lover, sure, but you still hadn't expected to have this good of a time with him. it was almost enough to make you spend the night.

almost.

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Over the Edge" - Warriors concept album fanfic (Part 2/3)

FINALLY got through the second part. A lot happens in kind of a shorter chapter than I usually write so be warned. TW for flashbacks of a near death experience and mildly implied suicidal ideation. Here's the link to Part 1. Enjoy!

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Rembrandt prayed the supervised tagging trip with Mercy would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. During the day, Rembrandt was subject to the ridiculous physical therapy regime Cochise implemented for her: strength training for her arm and stretches for her knee that hurt more than they seemed to help. Cochise was especially worried about Rembrandt’s shoulder because, according to what she read, one dislocation made Rembrandt prone to more if she didn’t take care of the joint, which was just fucking great. And of course Cochise had to make it worse by sharing that information in front of Cleon. 

By night, Rembrandt was out training Mercy with Swan and Ajax as security. It wasn’t as if Mercy only assisted with tagging. She went scouting with Cowgirl and learned first aid from Cochise. She patrolled with Swan and later Ajax, as well, after Ajax promised civility and Swan gave the okay. Rembrandt was proud of Ajax for that. The pair were a long way from being close friends, but they got along and Ajax had actually begun to like and even trust Mercy again. 

But they always needed more scouts. They always needed more people on patrols and Cochise made everyone learn basic first aid when they started. They only needed one tagger and that was Rembrandt but Rembrandt was kept on the sidelines just… supervising.

Mercy got good at it. So good it was hard for any non-Warrior to notice a difference, and no matter how frustrated it made her, Rembrandt was proud of Mercy. She knew Mercy was proud of herself and she had every right to be. She’d adjusted better than anyone expected, but every time she looked ready to celebrate another successful mission, she would look at Rembrandt with an expression the tagger couldn’t read and tone herself down and it made Rembrandt feel impossibly shitty every single time. 

She stopped sleeping. The flashbacks wouldn’t let her, not for more than an hour or two, until she stopped trying to make it happen. She turned to chugging coffee like water and smoking more than she ever had in her life, anything to get stimulants in her system in an attempt to stay awake. Nothing helped.

If Ajax didn’t trust her to be alone before, she certainly didn’t now. When Ajax had business to handle, Rembrandt spent her time doing nothing at Cleon’s apartment. They made sure someone was always in the apartment with her, something she both appreciated and loathed at the same time. One such night, she sat on the couch with her sketchbook in her lap, staring at the same empty page she’d been staring at for the past thirty minutes. Swan and Mercy were in their bedroom. Rembrandt wasn’t sure if they’d neglected to fully shut the door or if the walls were just thinner than she remembered, but she heard their muffled conversation.

“She looks like a fucking ghost!” Mercy hissed. “Look me in the eye and tell me honestly how much you think she’s slept in the past week.”

“I know she hasn’t,” said Swan, “but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“We could send her to a counselor or something.”

“Even if I thought that was a good idea, Rem would never go for it. Look, I’m worried, too, but-”

“Does she really have to do this?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We have. She’s working through it, okay? She’s getting there.”

“She’s getting worse!”

Rembrandt slammed the front door hard enough to wake the whole block. 

She made her way to the roof, hating how her knee protested as she climbed the stairs. A harsh wind blew in off the ocean. She tucked herself into the corner of the short wall that bordered the roof to hide from the worst of it and lit a cigarette. She only got a few puffs before Swan came to find her. 

The war chief sat close against her, touching from shoulder to hip. “Mind if I bum one?” she asked. Rembrandt passed her a cigarette and a lighter, then watched as she failed to light it multiple times against the wind. It would have been funny if she didn’t feel so awful. Taking pity on her, she tilted Swan’s head towards her and put their faces close together to light Swan’s cigarette with the burning tip of her own. Swan blew smoke through her nose and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

Rembrandt rested her head on Swan’s shoulder. “Tell Mercy to stop freaking out.”

“She still feels responsible for what happened.”

“She isn’t.”

“Try telling her that.”

“I did. When I talked to her after I woke up.” Rembrandt flicked her cigarette absentmindedly and closed her eyes. “Ajax is worried about me.” 

Swan took a long drag off her cigarette. “So am I.”

The door to the stairwell opened. “Swan,” Mercy said, “Masai is here.”

Rembrandt frowned and turned to Swan. “Why are the Riffs here?”

Swan didn’t answer. She just stubbed out her cigarette and took Rembrandt by the hand to lead her back into the apartment. 

Cleon and the rest of the Warriors waited for them in the kitchen alongside Masai and two Gramercy Riff soldiers. The Riffs stayed against the wall with their eyes on their leader; they were only ever around for entourage when Masai made a visit, anyway. Ajax nodded to Swan and replaced her beside Rembrandt, coaxing her to sit across from the two gang leaders at the table. Mercy took the seat next to her. She squeezed Rembrandt’s trembling hand under the table. 

“How are you feeling, Rembrandt?” asked Masai.

“Uh, fine. Thanks,” Rembrandt mumbled. “Cleon, what’s going on?”

“I told you we were figuring out exactly how to handle the Princes after they attacked you and Mercy,” Cleon said. Hearing the name of that gang was like a gut punch. “They already took care of the one that pushed you off the fire escape.”

“What do you mean?” 

Masai turned his palms to the ceiling. “He got what he deserved.”

“What does-”

“Rem,” Mercy whispered. She narrowed her eyes, her expression stony and frigid as she tried to convey the message without actually spelling it out. Rembrandt’s stomach turned. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Cleon said bluntly. “But the rest of them, we’re still deciding. Their leader knows this is inevitable and he’s guaranteed both no retaliation and assistance in whatever punishment we hand down, so we want you two to choose what happens.” 

The room spun. Rembrandt tasted bile and blood. Her vision went blurry as a shrill ringing echoed in her head. 

The night sky. Mercy’s voice. The sound of breaking glass as she hit the ground. There was blood, her blood, so much blood, and it was so cold and Mercy was screaming and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t-

Rembrandt had no idea how she ended up in the corner across the room but she did. There were voices in her ears speaking words she couldn’t understand. She covered her mouth with one hand and screwed her eyes shut but didn’t completely close herself off like she used to, trying not to puke while simultaneously refusing to look like a weak, traumatized child in front of everyone. She was not fragile, she was not broken, and no matter how much her whole crew looked at her like she was, she would not dig herself further into that hole. 

Someone touched her shoulder. She roughly shrugged them off to disguise the way she flinched. Risking a glance behind her, she saw Ajax and Cleon forming a wall between her and the others. Cleon’s mouth was moving as she said something that wouldn’t quite register in Rembrandt’s mind. Behind them, she spotted Mercy and Swan, both looking like they wanted to go to her but not knowing if it was their place. 

She locked eyes with Ajax. Ajax followed her gaze to Mercy and Swan, then looked back to her and gave a small nod, because Ajax had been her ride or die from the start and always knew exactly what she needed if she could just be brave enough to admit she needed anything at all. 

Ajax stood aside. Rembrandt darted past Cleon, grabbed Mercy by the collar, and dragged her into the bathroom.

The second the door was closed, Rembrandt collapsed to the floor, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes as she leaned back against the side of the tub. Mercy knelt in front of her. 

“What the hell was that?!” Mercy whisper-yelled. “You just like completely blacked out or something!”

“Yeah,” Rembrandt said, still trying to calm her labored breathing, “that’s been happening.”

“For how long?! Does Ajax know? Does Cleon?”

“Ajax knows. No one else does so please, for the love of god, do not fucking tell anyone,” Rembrandt begged. Mercy hesitated. Rembrandt dropped her hands so she could look the girl in the eyes. “Mercy!”

“I won’t! I won’t. Promise.” Mercy extended a hand and waited for Rembrandt to take it. “Rembrandt, we’re worried about you.”

Rembrandt shook her head. “No. Not now. Did you know about this? Did they tell you?”

“I-I… Yeah, they let me know first.”

“The one that pushed me, Cleon didn’t…?”

“No, it wasn't Cleon who did it. The guy’s own gang put a hit out on him for what he did. I guess he’s the one that planned all of it.”

“Why do they want us to choose what happens to the rest of them?”

Mercy hesitated again. She took a deep breath. “Swan says Cleon wants you to feel in control again. Says she thinks it’ll help.”

In control. In control. Rembrandt hadn’t been in control of jack fucking shit since the night they lost Fox.

Mercy continued, “I don’t know. They know you better than I do. Look, you don’t have to face any of the bitches that jumped us. Whatever we tell Cleon and Masai, we won't have to actually, y’know, carry it out.”

“What did you say?”

“You will not look at me the same way if you hear what I said,” Mercy admitted, and it looked like her heart broke a little doing it. 

All Rembrandt could say was, “You sound like Ajax.”

“Ajax said I shouldn’t be called Mercy anymore after she heard it.” 

“What the actual fuck.”

“She’s rubbing off on me. What can I say.”

“Oh, god.” Rembrandt raked her hands through her hair. “Okay. I think I’m ready to go back out.”

“Why don’t you take a minute? You look a little… green.”

“I’m fine. Can you give me a hand? I got my knee in a weird position.” 

A very weird and very bad position that left her leg in screaming hot pain, now that she was grounded enough to feel it. Mercy helped her to her feet and waited for her to stretch some of the pain out before following her back into the kitchen. Cleon and Masai were in the corner, embroiled in a heated and hushed conversation. Swan and Ajax looked like they’d just gotten out of one much the same and now stood closer together than Rembrandt had seen them in a long time, both staring sullenly at their feet. When Rembrandt walked out, Cochise immediately took notice of how she favored her injured leg.

“Rembrandt, you’re limping again,” the soldier said.

She shut it down. “I bumped my knee. I’m okay. Cleon?”

Cleon and Masai were before her in the blink of an eye. “You figure out what you want to do?”

“Jump them out. All of them that were in Brooklyn that night. And blacklist them so hard they’ll never be able to step foot off Staten Island again,” Rembrandt said decisively. “But don’t… don’t kill anyone.” 

Cleon didn’t flinch. Cleon never flinched. Years and years of gang life had broken that instinct out of her, but there was a set to her jaw and a glint in her eye that made it clear it would’ve hurt less if Rembrandt had simply decked her in the face. Rembrandt wanted to take back her last sentence the moment she saw that look because that was not a look Cleon ever got and it was not one Rembrandt ever wanted to see again. 

Cleon said, “Done.” 

There was a little more conversation after that, a few details that had to be worked out between the leaders. Thankfully, Rembrandt didn’t have to be a part of it. She got to sit on the couch between Ajax and Mercy and assure Cochise over and over again that yes she was wearing the knee brace - a lie - and yes she was doing everything in the physical therapy plan - a partial lie. 

Once the Riffs finally left, she took the chance to lock herself in the bathroom and puke until there was nothing left in her system.

----

If giving Rembrandt the final say in retribution against the Princes was Cleon’s way of letting her feel in control again, it only lasted for that one night. 

“Why is Mercy still tagging instead of me!” Rembrandt demanded as Cleon sat beside her on the couch. 

“Because Cochise doesn’t think it’s safe for you to try that kind of physical activity yet and neither do I,” Cleon said. Rembrandt could hear in her voice exactly how close she was to the end of her patience.

“But I’m fine now. My knee barely hurts anymore and I can put my arm above my head again. See?”

“I can see that you are in extreme pain doing that, so stop before you make it worse. I told you, it’s just for now.”

“When is ‘just for now’ gonna end?”

“You can’t expect to be completely healed after a few weeks,” Cleon said, her tone becoming more clipped and frustrated. 

“But I’m fine!”

Cleon snapped. “Do you think I haven’t noticed you blacking out lately!” she exclaimed. It wasn’t angry. It was… pleading. Pleading and desperate, like this was her last chance to get through to Rembrandt. “You think I haven’t noticed how you suddenly turn into a zombie whenever that night gets brought up? You think I haven’t noticed how Ajax has to constantly bring you back to reality? You got hurt, Rembrandt. Badly hurt. We almost lost you that night and I’m trying to make sure we don’t lose you now! You’re not tagging until you’re completely healed. I don’t care if it takes a month or a whole fucking year. That’s final. Do you understand?”

Rembrandt felt the familiar rise of vitriolic words rising in her throat. She was not a fighter, never had been, but Ajax and gang life had taught her a lot about different ways to lash out when she was angry. And fuck, was she angry. Angry and bitter and hurt and frustrated beyond the point of reason, but she still had the good sense to remember she was staring her leader in the face. She’d said some harsh things to the others in the past, things she wasn’t proud of when she looked back, but never to Cleon. 

So she held her tongue, nodded stiffly, and dropped it. 

That night, she laid awake in bed beside Ajax. Ajax was curled up on her side, facing the wall and snoring softly. Rembrandt reached over to rest a hand against her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, and gritted her teeth. 

Bleeding out on the couch. Indistinct voices filling the room. Ajax beside her, tears in her eyes, promising everything was going to be alright-

As quietly as she could, Rembrandt got out of bed and went to the fire escape. 

She sat just outside the window, one leg still in the apartment as she lit a cigarette. She watched the smoke curl up and away from her in the chilly night air.

Cold air in her lungs. Hot blood pooling around her.

Rembrandt stood on the fire escape. Tucking her cigarette in the corner of her mouth, she put both hands on the railing and looked down at the street below. 

Rough hands on her collar. A wicked grin and wild eyes.

She could almost imagine herself laying there: unable to breathe, bleeding out and broken, as the Princes closed in around her. 

Weightlessness. Breaking glass. Mercy screaming.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She didn’t know who she was trying to convince anymore. 

Rembrandt grabbed the edge of the stairs above her head and stepped up onto the railing. 

The night sky. Mercy. Cleon. Ajax.

Closing her eyes, she balanced on her good leg and held on with her good arm and leaned out over the edge.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. 

“Rembrandt, no!”

[triglycercule]

can the mtt commit more crimes that just murder please i know theyre the MURDER time trio but ppppleasse,,,, please,,,,,,

they'd be terrible to be next to on the highway. horror's going 160 mph amd has long past gone over the speed limit. dust's out for BLOOD and by blood i mean your tires. he's somehow sniping those round rubber wheels from the high moving vehicle with the precision of a master fruit ninja player. if your car explodes or flips over in the process that's not his fault. and then to make matters worse for everyone on the highway killer's in the backseat scratching up the doors and windows of your car with a knife everytime horror gets close to another car and oops he accidentally just disfigured your face also did i mention theyre all drunk during this

ok so theyve all got the classic face WHY DONT THEY ABUSE IT!!!! horror gets to do a little paper mache to cover up his head hole and then wearing glasses. killer i dont know what the FUCK he can do to get rid of his perpetual tears but let's just pretend that theyre conveniently gone for now. and then all dust has to do is put down his hood! anyways identity theft is cool. imagine how much they could totally fuck up classic's reputation with this. set up fake tinder profiles and then scam people for their credit card info/free dates (while ordering every expensive thing) and stealing wallets. walking into various grillby's's around the multiverse and telling terrible jokes. like ACTUALLY bad jokes. and then of course just being a huge piece of shit at the bar. god theres so many things they could do pretending to be classic. which one of us is hikaru looking ahh except the only difference between the three is the color of the stains on their clothes (either gray (dust) black (killer) or red. well faded red (horror))

ROBBERY!!!! ROBBERIES PLURAL!!!??? train robbery gas station robbery bank robbery GOVERNMENT robbery (what would you rob the government for?? documents??? idk) anyways. mtt robbing a train except its just a really shitty plan and they dont know jackshit about what theyre doing. killer's taken over the conductor's cabin and now he is booking it. how fast are trains allowed to go idk but the maximum. anyways meanwhile horror's on the tracks fucking up the rails with his strength or whatever (listen i know he's weak but picking and choosing what hcs i believe in is my art) and dust is there to teleport him away before the train crashes into him and turns him into a trolley problem victim. and then of course that shit doesnt fucking work and the train just ends up flipping over and catching on fire or something (killer survives because of course he does he's killer). and then in the end dust just has to flip the entire train over and they just stroll into the part that actually HAS the money

and then they go out and get ice cream. sometimes the murderers need to take a break from murdering and just do NORMAL crime yk???

[batsplat]

idc about people being misinformed about silly sports stuff because life's too short BUT there has been one too many things recently where I'm a bit... hm. I feel the rossi/lorenzo garage situation is long enough ago now that the general understanding of this dynamic is... only very loosely correlated to reality... and now it's being discussed a lot and a lot of the takes aren't really... you know. I don't actually care about fact checking because again. who cares. but a lot of the times it's like... the truth is more interesting than this version of events that is being spread around feat. heavy flanderisation I swear...

[chibifox2002]

@cosmicwhoreo

You have too much power with your ability to draw/design cute babies... Connie is me rn...

[waywardsalt]

mmm

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Under the Mistletoe 2

SUMMARY: You told your classmates about Christmas and the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. But what if it's someone else helping you get a kiss from your crush? Or your crush trying to get a kiss from you? Or even prevent you from kissing someone else?

CHARACTERS: Scarabia (Kalim; Jamil); Pomefiore (Vil; Epel; Rook); Ignihyde (Idia + Ortho) & Diasomnia (Malleus; Silver; Sebek; Lilia)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kissing

WORD COUNT: An average of 390 words per character.

COMMENTS: As I believe some characters would be more direct and others would try to beat around the bush some have more words than others for this reason.

The Ignihyde part is the longest because it's Idia and Ortho together. With Ortho is platonic of course, he just gives you a present, Idia is the one under the mistletoe.

I hope you all enjoy and have a Merry Christmas. 🎁

Under the Mistletoe 1 - Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

CONTEXT: As the end of the year approaches and the snow begins to fall, you comment to your schoolmates that it is reminding you of a holiday that exists in your world called Christmas. They get curious and ask you more about it, you talk about the gifts, the tree, getting the family together, etc.

Until Cater asks if there wouldn't be any romantic traditions on such a cute holiday, and the first thing that comes to your mind is the tradition of two people having to kiss if they both happen to be under a mistletoe or holly.

You even say that there are people who purposely place mistletoe in a strategic spot to attract the person they want to kiss and pretend it was an accident. A very popular Christmas romance troupe.

Cater was the one who told Kalim what you said about Christmas, and consequently about the mistletoe tradition. But that wasn't what he was thinking about the time he went to visit you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“HEY [Y/N]!” He greets you with his radiant smile. “Happy... um... what was the name of that holiday you told Cater about again?”

You say it's called Christmas and the greeting is ‘Merry Christmas’.

“Merry Christmas! Wait, I don't know if it's today... It isn’t? Then let me know when it is so I can wish you one, okay? Cater told me you felt a little homesick when you remembered that holiday and about the tradition of exchanging gifts. So I wanted to give you one to cheer you up.”

He hands you a present wrapped in shiny paper. You thank him and accept, but say you don't have a gift for him.

“Oh, don't worry about that. Seeing you smile is already the best gift you can give me.”

You open the gift, it's a turquoise cardigan with white jasmine flowers.

“It is of great quality and excellent for keeping you warm. That's what Jamil said. He helped me choose a gift for you and said the best one would be something that would help you during these cold days. Did you like it?”

You say that you did and show that by trying it right away.

“It looks so good on you! And makes you look even cuter than usual.” He smiles innocently.

You two hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe? Cater had mentioned something about this but I don't remember what it was about. It's another tradition of your holiday, isn't it? What does it mean?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He smiles widely and blushes a little.

“I don't mind kissing you at all! I mean... I would even like to. If you want to do it too of course.”

You confirm and you move closer to each other. You will be able to feel his smile during the kiss.

Ace was the one who told Jamil about the things you said about Christmas, at the last basketball club meeting before winter break. He took advantage of the first opportunity he had to go to Ramshackle Dorm while Kalim was at the Pop Music Club.

“Hello, [Y/N].” Jamil greets you when you open the door. “I heard about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and that you were feeling a little homesick. How are you today?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“I see. Ace told me that one of your holiday traditions was exchanging gifts. Is that correct?” You confirm. “I'm glad, because I got one for you.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a nicely wrapped present. “Don't worry about getting one for me. My only intention is to cheer you up a little.”

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, suspicious. He chuckles and then smirks

“Okay, maybe that's not really the only intention. But please open it and see if you like it.”

You thank him and open the present, it's a burgundy and black hoodie exactly like the one Jamil wears under his school uniform blazer. You look at him and he's smiling smugly.

“You already told me that you liked my hoodie, so I thought you might like to have one like it. This one is also very warm for days like these. So, what did you think?”

You say you like it, slightly flustered and even comment that it's possible that people think you're actually wearing his hoodie.

“Oh, you're right. That hadn't even occurred to me.” He says, still with a smirk on his face. “By the way, you should start thinking about pruning the plants outside your dorm, some are already growing here at the door.” He points up and you see a mistletoe growing from the wall, which you are almost certain is not naturally possible.

“Wasn't mistletoe part of another tradition of yours? I'm pretty sure Ace mentioned something about it.”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe.

“Ah, yes, that was it. Well, if you want, I have no objection in participating in this tradition of yours.”

You show that you would also like to do it with him, you get closer to each other and he captures your lips.

Vil heard about what you said about Christmas from Rook, who had apparently been eavesdropping on your conversation. And obviously he being who he is would mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Vil greets you when you open the door. “I heard what you said about a holiday in your world that happens at this time of year. Now I understand why you seemed a little sad. Are you too homesick?”

You say you're fine, just homesick about some things.

“Perhaps if you fulfilled some of your traditions it will help make you feel better?” Vil suggests. “Rook told me about your tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. Is that correct?” You confirm. “In that case, I have a proposal for you, sweet potato.” He smirks. “If you manage to find a sprig of mistletoe and make us both meet under it, I will allow you to fulfill your tradition with a kiss of mine. Be aware that to receive any kiss from me you have to prove yourself, especially one on the lips. Show me how much you want one before I leave for home and I shall reward you with it.” He winks at you and leaves.

You still spend a lot of time looking for a mistletoe tree until you discover that there is one in the Botanical Garden. But it was only on the next day that you managed to run over there and pick a sprig of mistletoe with or without permission and then run to try to find Vil at Pomefiore.

You ask where Vil is and one of the students tells you he was in his room. You go over there, place the sprig of mistletoe on top of the door frame and knock. Vil is surprised to see you and smiles.

“Hello sweet potato. I was just about to leave to go home. Don't tell me you've given up on our little game?”

You smile and point up so he can see the sprig of mistletoe stuck to the door frame of his room. He looks at you angrily.

“And you still dare to defile the aesthetics of our dormitory, especially right outside my bedroom door?!” But then laughs heartily. “Ha ha ha, How daring! Or should I say cheeky? I see you're smiling. Did this little challenge cheer you up?”

Now you realize that entertaining you a little to cheer you up was his real plan.

“Well, you managed to complete the challenge. It's only fair that I reward you.” He holds your chin and kisses you masterfully.

Epel wasn't with you when you told the others about Christmas, but he asked Ace and Deuce if you were okay because he had been seeing you looking a little down. That's when they told him about your holiday, but they didn't mention the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Hi [Y/N].” Epel greets you with a cute smile. “I heard you were feeling a little down because you were homesick. Ace and Deuce told me about a holiday you have in your world at this time of year and that exchanging gifts is one of the traditions. Is it true?” You confirm and his smile becomes even more enthusiastic. “Heh heh. In that case, I've got you one.” He takes his hands from behind his back and hands you a present.

You thank him and accept the gift but say you don't have any for him.

“Don't worry about that. I just wanted to cheer you up, you don't have to give me anything. Go on, open it! I'm sure you'll love it.”

You open the present, it's a lavender knitted poncho with an apple pattern.

“I have to admit something.” He tells you a little embarrassed. “The truth is that this poncho was mine, it was made by my Meemaw. Since it is winter I wanted to give you something from Harveston, but there was no time to ask my family to send something. So I decided to give you something of my own. I’m sure that Meemaw would be happy to know that if I gave this poncho to anyone it was to you. Don't worry, I have many more. Do you like it?”

You say you like it and he says he's glad. Then the two of you hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe. Epel asks you if you know why they are doing that and you tell him about the tradition of the kiss under the mistletoe. He immediately blushes!

“K-K-KISS?! Why are they doing this to us then?” He sees you getting slightly flustered. “Wait... you...” He takes a deep breath to gain confidence. “If you want to follow your tradition, I... I don't mind.”

You move closer to him and close your eyes. It takes him a moment to gain enough courage to kiss you.

Rook overheard your conversation with Ace, Deuce and others, and he was immediately smitten by such a heartwarming holiday. And even more interested he became when you told Cater about the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. A delightful opportunity! That same day he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Bonjour, Trickster!” Rook greets you at the height of his good mood. “It came to my ears that you were feeling homesick due to a holiday that you have in your world at this time of year that we don't have in Twisted Wonderland. I heard about some of the traditions you talked about and I thought it was merveilleux! I am eager to know more about this Christmas holiday. Would you be so kind as to grant me a conversation on the subject?”

You say you don't mind or even that you'd love to and invite him in. The two of you talk for so long that you end up telling him practically everything you know about Christmas. So much so that it's only when Rook sees the sun setting that he realizes how much time has passed and apologizes for stealing so much of your time.

“What if I made you dinner? I feel it is the least I can do for the time you have so generously given me.”

You both go to the kitchen because you either insist on helping him prepare dinner or you want to supervise him. What you don't see is the hand of one of the ghosts appearing with a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling and Rook taking it from his hands.

“A poisonous plant is not something advisable in a kitchen, don't you think Trickster?” You turn around and see the mistletoe in his hands. “However...” He walks towards you, getting very close and looking at you with his hunter's gaze as he raises the sprig above both of your heads. “This is an excellent opportunity for you to show me in practice what your mistletoe tradition is like.”

He won't kiss you, he wants you to do it. He loves it when you're cheeky enough to take the initiative. But once you do, be prepared for him to show you how much he likes you.

Ortho overheard your conversation and showed up halfway through to join in and find out more. He was the one who told his big brother who seemed to dislike such a holiday. Boring, too lovey-dovey, an excuse for family members who can't stand each other to get together once a year to pretend they care, were some of the ways he described his conclusion about this holiday.

Idia wondered why you would miss a holiday like that and Ortho said that maybe you missed having loved ones around, or maybe you're sad that you can't share that heartwarming spirit with anyone. Spending a date where you can celebrate good feelings with the ones you love is a little sad to spend alone. Especially if you have people there that you would like to spend it with.

Idia had mixed feelings about Ortho's hypotheses and asked if he really thought there was anyone at that school or in Twisted Wonderland that you would like to spend this holiday with.

“You'll never know if you don't ask. He he.” Was Ortho's response.

Ortho knew that his big brother and you liked each other, he could read your vital signs when you were near each other or talking about each other, but he also knew that it was easier to convince you to go to Ignihyde than Idia to go to Ramshackle Dorm.

Ortho asked if you could go to Ignihyde to help him with something before he and Idia go home for the winter break. Grim didn't want to go because he didn't want to run the risk of Idia wanting to pet him and treat him like a cat.

When you arrive you ask Ortho what he needs from you.

“Actually, I'm sorry I lied to you. I don't need help with anything. I just wanted to surprise you. I've been thinking about what you said about Christmas and how you've been feeling a little down, so I decided to follow one of your traditions to try to cheer you up a little. Please check out that mobile game you love.”

You pick up your phone, open the game and see that there is something in your Gift Box. It is a key that guarantees you an SSR card. You ask if that was him and how he did that. He gives you a mischievous look and says you don't need to worry about it, he has his tricks.

“I wanted to give you a present, you know because of your tradition of exchanging gifts. Did you like it?”

You say you loved it, but you don't have any gifts for him.

“Don't worry about it, this was nothing. But if you want to do something as a gift back maybe you can help me with my big brother if you don't mind?”

He tells you that he also wants to surprise Idia and that all you have to do is convince him to open his bedroom door. Discussing with Ortho he has an idea: "I know! Why don't you tell him you have some Christmas sweets for him to try? He loves sweets!”

The two of you put this plan into action. It takes a while before Idia decides to open the door to see if you are telling the truth or not. The two of you are the only people he doesn't mind opening the bedroom door to see face to face. He sees that you don't have any sweets and Ortho admits that it was his idea to trick him.

“I don't know why I still have glimmers of hope IRL” He says, unbothered.

Ortho laughs and flies over your and Idia's heads and holds a sprig of mistletoe between the two of you. When he reminds Idia what he told him about that tradition of yours, the tips of his hair turn pink and he starts to stutter. You need to be the first one to reveal that you would like to fulfill that tradition with him.

“W-with me? Listen, you don't need to lower your standards that much just because you pity me.”

You stamp your foot saying that it have nothing to do with it and for him to stop with that self-depressing talk.

“Well, then you do it.” He smirks. “If you really want it, go ahead. Look, I'll even lower myself to be on your level. As if you were that-”

You shut him up with the kiss, and eventually he pulls you into his room and closes the door leaving his little brother in the hallway.

Lilia was the one who told Malleus, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. The conversation focused more on the exchange of gifts, but Lilia made a point of mentioning the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, Child of Man.” Malleus greets you with a smile when you open the door. “How are you feeling today?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking that.

“I heard you were feeling homesick due to a holiday of yours that isn't celebrated here in Twisted Wonderland. What was it named?” You answer. “Ah yes, Christmas. Lilia told me that one of your traditions was exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a gift appear wrapped in fancy looking paper and hands it to you.

You thank him, but say you don't have any for him because you didn't know he was going to give you a present.

“Worry not. I am aware that this gesture of mine is quite sudden. You needn't to give me a present in return, seeing you smiling after these days of feeling down will be a good enough gift.”

You open the present, it's a black hooded jacket. He asks you to try it on and when you do, you discover that on the hood there are two horns just like his. He smiles fondly.

“Lilia would be deeply envious of your cuteness right now.” Malleus comments.

“Indeed, but I will allow my crown to be taken from me this time.” Lilia appears, upside down and above the two of you.

“Lilia? What are you doing here? I thought you were packing your things so we could leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, worry not, Malleus. I have plenty of time for that. But for this...”

He smiles mischievously and stretches out his arm as he holds a sprig of mistletoe over both of your heads. He even reminds Malleus of what he said about that tradition of yours.

“Oh, I see. A kiss from me?” He smirks at you. “Practically everyone is afraid to even come near me. [Y/N], would you be brave enough to have this tradition of your be fulfilled by me?”

You step forward and show him how much you would love that. He laughs heartily. He leans in, you close your eyes, but then you feel him pull you with him into the house and close the door.

“Forgive my rudeness but I would prefer to do this with a little more privacy.” And finally he kisses you as if he had wanted to do it for a long time.

Lilia was the one who told Silver, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas, especially about the tradition of exchanging gifts. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Silver greets you with his usual neutral expression. “How are you?”

You say you're fine and ask why he's asking.

“I heard you were feeling a little down for being homesick. I think you mentioned a holiday in your world that takes place at this time of year. What was it named?” You answer. “Christmas. Is it true that one of the Christmas traditions is exchanging gifts?” You confirm. “I'm glad I didn't misheard it, then. Here, I brought you a present.”

He takes a cute little box out of his pocket and hands it to you. You thank him, but say you don't have any gifts for him.

“You don't have to worry about that. I'm not offering you this gift to get one in return. I just hope that trying to recreate a tradition of yours can bring you a little joy.” He gives you that rare smile of his.

You open the present, Inside the box is a small square of black styrofoam that holds a silver ring.

“Sorry for not being much.”

You say he doesn't have to apologize because it was a beautiful ring. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your finger. Suddenly, you both hear a chirping above you, look up and see a little bird holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

“Mistletoe. Sorry, wasn't there another tradition of yours that involved mistletoe?”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. He widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I see. Um... If you want, I don't mind fulfilling this tradition with you.” He smiles. “In fact, I would be honored to do so if you allow me.”

You take a step forward showing that you want him to do it too and he kisses you gently.

Lilia was the one who told Sebek, after Cater told him, what you said about Christmas. But Sebek didn't seem very interested in the subject until Lilia tells him about the mistletoe tradition, however he tells Sebek that you are obliged to kiss the other person. This not only arouses his interest but also his indignation and revolt.

The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he goes to Ramshackle Dorm first thing in the morning.

“HUMAN!” Sebek startles you when you open the door. “I heard about your mistletoe tradition. You must be alert so as not to come across a sprig of such or a tree. I have taken the liberty of examining every paths you may go through and ensuring that you are free of this plant.” He has a smug and proud smile on.

You ask what he's talking about, confused and maybe even still a little sleepy.

“Lillia-sama told me all about the holiday you have in your world this time of year and the tradition of you being forced to kiss any subject you meet under a mistletoe. I am helping you to avoid such unconsenting tradition. You can start thanking me now.”

You tell him that the tradition of two people kissing each other under the mistletoe is true, but that it is not mandatory. It’s just something to be fun for both people, so the person can refuse to do it if they feel uncomfortable.

He asks if you are implying that Lilia deceived him on purpose. You think that maybe that is exactly what happened, but decide to say that maybe Lilia misunderstood or that whoever told him gave him the wrong information.

“Of course! Some humans are not even capable of transmitting non-erroneous information.”

“And now that we've got that sorted...” You both hear a familiar voice above you, look up and see Lilia floating while holding a sprig of mistletoe above your heads. “Why don't you two try fulfilling this tradition? Like [Y/N] said, it's just a little fun thing. Kee hee.”

Sebek blushes immediately! “I... ugh... Human!” He recomposes himself. “If that is what you wish, I have no objection to carrying out your tradition.” He is still blushing.

You approach him and show that you don't object either, in fact, you would even like him to be the one to help you fulfill that tradition. Lilia leaves the sprig of mistletoe hanging over the door frame and disappears to give you more privacy. He needs a moment to prepare, but once he does he goes all in.

Cater was the one who told Lilia what you said about Christmas. Especially the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon [Y/N].” Lilia greets you with a sweet smile when you open the door. “Cater told me you were feeling a little sad for being homesick. I came to see how you were.”

You say you're fine and that your homesickness is because of a holiday that exists in your world.

“Oh, yes, he told me a lot about it. He said one of your traditions is exchanging gifts, so I brought you one.” He makes a present appear and gives it to you. “Don't worry about giving me one back. I know this gesture is very last minute. If this can cheer you up a little then that would be a great gift.”

You thank him and open the present, It is a matching set of pink gloves, scarf and hat with black bats pattern. He asks if you liked it and you say yes while trying on the scarf.

“Aw, you look so cute with it. I'm almost jealous. Oh, by the way, didn't another tradition of yours involve mistletoe?”

You confirm and tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe. You ask why he suddenly remembered that. He points up with a sly smile, you look and see a sprig of mistletoe floating above your heads.

“I hope it's not against the rules to be a plastic one. I wanted to keep it as a souvenir of this day. Is it okay?”

You say there is no problem, it is still valid.

“In that case, what if you make this your gift to me? I would love to share this traditional moment with you. Nothing would make me happier than learning more about your culture first hand.”

You get closer to each other and he kisses you sweetly.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[neverendingford]

,

[fear-is-truth]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. nicholas alexander chavez is popular, rich, spoiled and… annoyingly hot. / wc: 1.7k

tags — f! reader. nothing explicit unfortunately

“You’re late,” Nicholas drawled, idly adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He sat sprawled in his family’s oversized leather chair as if he owned the goddamn town—and in truth, he pretty much did. A big chunk of it, anyway. Draped in designer clothes, a pastel sweater tied around his neck, he gave you one of his signature smirk. You rolled your eyes and dropped your keys on the side table. “Relax, I had to wait for Cooper to show up,” you replied, nodding toward your best friend, lounged on the couch across from you. “He was running late.”

Cooper waved a hand lazily, one leg draped over the other as he lounged comfortably on the couch. “Blame the photographer for keeping me late,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. He didn’t model for the paycheck—it was more of a hobby. The Koch family was just as loaded as the Chavez family. Nicholas let out a low whistle. “Maybe he was just hoping to get some?”

Cooper carefully selected out a piece of hard peppermint candy from the glass bowl and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the candy at Nicholas, nailing him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama. Cooper just lowered his shades again, lips curling into a smirk. You leaned against the armrest, casting a glance at Nic, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time. He was always like this, soaking in attention like he was born to it. Girls practically fell at his feet wherever he went, but for some reason, he spent more time around you and Cooper than anyone else. Maybe it was because you weren’t interested in feeding his ego.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” Nicholas asked, unwrapping the piece of candy and popping it into his mouth. “How about we throw a pool party?”

You exchanged a glance with Cooper, who raised an eyebrow. The “pool parties” usually meant a crowd, loud music, and a bunch of people you could barely tolerate.

“Isn’t it kind of late for that?” you hinted, half-hoping he’d change his mind. Nic shrugged, “that’s the point.”

•••

The pool glittered under the soft yellow glow of string lights, and the evening was warm, the kind of perfect summer evening that made it hard to believe anything could go wrong. The air was filled with music, and a few groups of people were already mingling, laughing, and lounging by the poolside.

You stood off to the side, trying not to scowl as you watched Nicholas laughing with a few of the girls who had already gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. Your stomach twisted a little, watching them throw themselves at him, one of them resting a hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said. Nicholas, of course, ate it all up, flashing that blinding white smile that had made him the heartthrob of the town. It was stupid to feel jealous. It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. He was the kind of guy everyone wanted—hot, rich, athletic—practically born to be the centre of attention. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch as they tossed their hair, squeezed their boobs together, leaning in a little too close.

Part of you wished he’d notice you instead.

“Here,” a cold sensation jolted you out of your thoughts. Cooper pressed a chilled can of Cola against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile as you jumped.

“Hey!” you protested, swatting at his hand but unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face.

“You looked like you needed it,” he explained, the can still lingering near your face. “Before you set something on fire with that glare of yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” you muttered, wiping the condensation off your cheek, but the smile stayed. “and for your information, I wasn’t glaring.”

“Sure,” Cooper replied, popping open the can and offering the can to you. “If by ‘wasn’t glaring’ you mean staring daggers at those girls who won’t leave Nic alone.”

You sighed as you took a sip, your gaze drifting back to the scene. Nicholas looked like he was having the time of his life, head thrown back in laughter at something one of the girls said. He was always like this—playing up his charisma and humour, making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even when he was surrounded by half the town’s prettiest, snobbiest chicks.

“He enjoys the attention, you know,” Cooper said, his voice softer now, more serious. “But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you mumbled, staring down at the Coke in your hands. The cold can had warmed up a little from the heat of your skin, much like the warmth creeping up your chest from the jealousy. You didn’t want to feel this way. You weren’t even sure when it had started—this weird tension whenever Nicholas was around, the way your heart did a stupid flip whenever he so much as looked at you. He was Nic. Your obnoxious best friend. And yet… it was hard to watch other people throw themselves at him, especially when he seemed to thrive off it.

Cooper glanced back at them, then back at you, shaking his head slightly. “Look, Nic’s… complicated. Okay fine, he can be of a dick sometimes. But when it comes down to it, who’s he spending most of his time with? Not them.” He jerked his head toward the pool, where the girls were practically circling around Nicholas like a bunch of hungry sharks. “You.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mumbled, watching as Nic cannonballed into the pool, causing a water to splash everywhere. He resurfaced with a grin, his hair slicked back, shaking his hair like a wet dog. The girls were in hysterics, of course. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. But even as he laughed, his eyes scanned the patio, searching the crowd. And when he spotted you, his grin softened, the playful, cocky expression slipping into something more genuine. He raised a hand, waved at you.

“You’re not still jealous, are you?” Cooper nudged your arm. “No,” you lied, trying to sound casual. But the way your chest tightened told a different story. “It’s just… whatever. I don’t care.”

“Sure, you don’t.” He gave you an “i-know-you-know” smile before heading off to join another group of friends, leaving you standing by the pool. Nicholas swam up to where you were standing and rested his arms on the edge, looking up at you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. Water dripped down his face and chest, tan skin catching the yellow garden lights.

“Having fun?” As if the prick hadn’t just been flirting with half the girls at the party a moment ago.“Sure. Looks like you’re having a great time.” Nicholas chuckled, lowering his voice. “If by ‘great,’ you mean having a bunch of people talk at me while I think about how bored I am, then yeah.”

“Right,” you said, not fully believing him. “Looked like you were really bored.” “Is someone jealous?” Your heart jumped—was it that obvious? But you quickly masked it with a dry laugh. “Of those girls? Please.”

“M’kay, cool. So… you planning on actually joining the party, or just standing there sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” you bristled, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because it kind of looks like you are. Pouty, even.”

You knelt down by the edge of the pool, leaning just close enough to point at his nose. “I’m not sulking,”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could’ve been in here with me this whole time.” His smirk softened into something more genuine, and for a split second, you forgot all about the other people around. It was just you and him, the water lapping gently against the poolside, the strum of the party fading into the background. Quick as a viper, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you forward. You tumbled into the pool with a splash, cool water engulfing you.

When you surfaced, spluttering and wiping the water from your eyes, you shot him a dirty look. “Asshole!”

He was laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that made it impossible to stay too mad. Before you could thump him on the shoulder, he pulled you closer, hands settling on your waist as the water swirled around you. “Told you you should’ve joined me,” with that, just as suddenly as he’d pulled you in, Nicholas leaned down and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours, tender yet insistent, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you flush against his soaked body. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm, as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

Hands slid up your sides, fingers skimming along the curves of your waist before one hand moved to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The kiss deepened, and he angled his head slightly. Your mind spun as he pushed forward, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a deliberate slowness, exploring every corner with a sensual, languid rhythm. There was nothing rushed about it—he wanted to take his time, savour the taste of you, to tease. His tongue brushed lightly against yours, coaxing a soft gasp from you as your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself in the dizzying sensation of it all. Your first tongue kiss was with no one other than Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, both of you a bit breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“You’re really not mad, are you?”

part II here

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[noxiwrites]

Forbidden

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

The new teaching assistant is too hot for his own good, distracting most of the girls in your class.You're not too bothered by him, he's just another pretty face- until you get pulled by him for failing the class. It's every girls wet dream, getting taught by the hot new teacher- and you find yourself slowly falling into a sickly sweet situation.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Age gap, inappropriate touching, arguments, angst, eventual smut, obsession, hidden relationship, public sex.

Word count ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

2.6k

Add yourself to my tag list | Masterlist

I II III IV V

Class the next week rolls around quicker than you would like. You’re a bundle of nerves, bookbag slipping off your shoulder more times than you’d like. You’re wearing one of your usual outfits, but it doesn’t stop Molly from wiggling her eyebrows at you as you meet her outside the classroom.

She hands you your coffee. “Dressing up are we?” Her tone is nothing but suggestive and it makes you wonder if you subconsciously dressed like this without realising, but you’re pulled from your thoughts with her giggling.

“I’m taking the piss, I can see those cogs turning. I love how you dress,” she grasps your arm in a playful manner as you both walk into class, Molly dragging you to a seat at the bottom of the seats instead of where you usually sit.

Your brows furrow in confusion but Molly just shoos you into the seat at the end of the desk, taking the one next to you. She leans closer, whispering so only you can hear her.

“He’s gonna go insane looking at that tiny little skirt all day long,” you gasp, hands pressed to the desk as you shoot her a disgusted look, trying to stand. Molly pulls you back down as students begin to fill the classroom, yapping away about something her boyfriend did the previous night, completely forgetting the subject at hand.

You drop your chin into the palm of your hand, watching as Rafe emerges from the door that leads to his office. His eyes scan the room- looking for you, you think- before the drop down to the bottom level and he smiles. Until his eyes catch your legs under the table, and the smile fades very quickly. He gulps and looks away, busying himself on his laptop.

You wonder if you’ve done anything wrong until Molly grasps your arm and practically squeals into your ear. “He’s so totally into you! Did you see how he looked at your legs?” It’s your turn to gulp, eyes watching as his biceps strain against the polo he’s chosen to wear today.

“It’s nothing, Mol. You’re seeing things,” you mumble, as the final few people stumble into class.

“Welcome in guys, we’re uh- doing some paperwork today in preparation for your upcoming exam,” Rafe takes a stack of thick papers off his desk, moving towards yours and Molly's table first. He passes Molly her paper no problem but when it comes to you, he slowly places it in front of you, lingering for longer than he should do.

Then he moves on, like nothing happened, handing out papers to the rest of the class. Molly practically smashes her knee against yours under the table and you roll your eyes, opening the paper.

The class drags on for what seems like forever as you can barely focus on your paper- stealing glances up at Rafe who’s doing anything but look at the class, his head buried in a book so deep you wonder if he’s trying to disappear.

When the end of the class eventually comes, Rafe places his book on his desk and beings to bid everyone farewell. The majority of the class rush out like usual, passing their papers to Rafe as he stands by the door. You’re still packing with Molly when Kendra saunters down the stairs, purposely swaying her hips in the shortest skirt you’ve seen.

You have to suppress the urge to call her a slut as she passes you- dropping her paper behind her. You look over at Rafe and see him watching, otherwise unbothered until Kendra lets out an “oops, dropped my paper,” and bends over to pick it up.

You can see Rafe immediately close his eyes as she flashes all she’s got, taking her time picking up her paper before grinning and skipping over to Rafe. She places it on top of his pile, hands lingering for a little too long.

“Sorry, Rafey, dropped it. Didn't mean to,” you can see her blinking up at him, trying to act all innocent but you’re pretty sure you can hear her eyelashes trying to take off in flight.

Rafe clears his throat, nodding down at her as she finally leaves.

“Can you believe that whore?” Molly asks, louder than you’d have liked her to. It alerts Rafe to your presence and he sighs, walking over to his desk and taking a seat.

“Anyway, got to go see Ryan, love you,” she kisses you on the cheek and passes you her paper, winking before dashing out of the door. You internally curse her before taking a shaky step toward Rafe’s desk, papers in hand. He smiles up at you, opening his hand to take them from your grasp.

“So, did you think about my offer?” He asks and you nod almost immediately, watching the smile grow on his face. “And?” He begins to flip through your paper.

“I’d like the help, sir,” you find your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes scanning your own paper to try and spot mistakes before he does. Rafe freezes, and you wonder what for, but it doesn’t last long before his eyes are meeting your own again.

“Great, we’ll review your paper in my office,” he stands, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Now?” You quip, shuffling your bag on your shoulder. Rafe nods, opening the door and standing in the doorway and waiting for you to walk through.

You were scared of what would happen behind that closed door, thinking back to your conversation with Molly. If he did make a move, would you reciprocate? You weren’t sure. You’d hoped it was just studying, but with the way he was looking at you right now you couldn’t be certain if those were his only intentions.

You let out a small thank you as you head into the office, which is small and dimly lit by a lamp on the desk in the middle of the room. There’s loads of pictures of him and two girls in frames all around the room, family, you think.

Rafe shuts the door behind him and you’re not sure if you hear the soft click of the lock before he’s moving around you, to get to his side of the desk. His gaze is burning as you take a seat across from him and he settles the paper inbetween the two of you.

You’re graciously aware of how his knees are surrounding your own underneath the table and it makes you feel so weird- but you don’t move.

“So, I think when you’re including these formula in your papers, you’re lacking the explanation as to how you got the formula,” he begins and you nod, hands resting at the edge of the table.

His own fingers glide across the paper as he reads your writings, before stopping on one of your explanation paragraphs.

“This is a perfect example. You’re explaining the formula and how it gives me that answer but you’re not telling me how you figure out the beginning,” he leans closer, pushing the paper towards you to show what he means- knees brushing against your thighs as he does so.

The notion doesn’t disturb him but it sends a jolt through you, gasping as you try to push your legs closer together. Rafe’s eyes lock onto your own, sparkling up at you.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” You respond straight away, heart beating a thousand miles an hour. He grins, moving on with the paper.

You look around the office again, trying to calm your heart down. “How old are you?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, looking at a picture of him with longer hair, the two same girls from other photos present in this one.

Rafe laughs, hearty as he leans back in his chair. “Twenty seven,” you almost gasp again, but push it back down as you compose yourself.

“You don’t look twenty seven,” you say, voice uneven. You hope he doesn’t notice, but the smirk on his face paints a different story. He notices you looking at the picture of him with longer hair.

“I was 20 in that photo, home for the holidays for Christmas,” you notice him adorning a Christmas jumper and nod, feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment course through you as you look back down at the paper.

“The uh, paper?” You question, and Rafe shakes his head. “Everything else is okay, I’ve already looked.”

You nod, drumming your fingers against the desk.

“Okay, so-” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting all skittish,” he folds his arms over his chest and you have to fight yourself to not look at his biceps. You nod at him, deciding it’s a good enough answer to give.

“See, I think I know what’s wrong. You’re getting all hot and flustered because you’re in a room with me,” he concludes and you’re sure, if it were possible, your eyes would pop out of your head. You’ve never shook your head so fast, watching as Rafe smirks, leaning forward to place his crossed arms on the desk.

“Im just messing with you,” he laughs, and you’re unsure for a second if he actually is messing with you, hands gripping the edge of your skirt so much that your hands almost turn white.

Finally, you breathe, collecting your thoughts as you feel Rafe’s eyes burning into you.

“You’re very beautiful when you’re nervous,” he murmurs, hand reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Not joking. So not joking. He’s not joking.

Your heartbeat picks up the pace again as his hand lingers there, thousands of emotions running through you at once. Your eyes meet his own and he finally drops his hand, letting his fingers dance across the edge of the table. You can’t help but watch, cheeks scarlet.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asks, fingers dancing closer to you. You shake your head again, wishing you could be anywhere but here. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening right now.

“I think I do, look at you. Poor little thing, can’t even speak,” his hand begins to play with the edge of your coat, thumbing the material.

“I uh- I’m not sure what’s happening,” you squeak out and Rafe laughs, leaning back in his chair. He runs a hand over his face like he’s composing himself before shuffling down the chair, legs enveloping your own more than you thought possible.

“Nothing, nothings happening, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’ve never left an office so fast. Flustered, warm, legs shuffling together to try and alleviate some of the pressure building up. Nothing helps. You dash to your car, desperate to get home and rot in bed for a while.

You literally couldn’t think, brain fuzzy, and it baffles you as you pull up outside your apartment that you’re actually home, because you don’t remember driving there.

Slumping back into the seat, you turn the ignition off and wipe a hand over your face.

What. The. Fuck.

Molly is the first person to know. You’re sure she breaks fifteen road traffic laws to get over to your place, and when she finally arrives, she practically flies through your front door and into the kitchen where you’re cooking and nursing a bottle of wine.

No glass.

“Tell. Me. Everything,” she heaves out, grasping her chest as she leans against the doorway of the kitchen. You’re stirring the pasta, before turning around and finally grabbing some glasses for the wine.

“I found out he’s twenty seven- oh and he finds me beautiful apparently,” Mollys eyes widen, taking a seat at the opposite side of your kitchen island, hands wrapping around her glass.

“I told you girl! Did you shag him? Oh my god if you did..” she trails off, looking at your stone face and white knuckles wrapped around the spoon.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“I froze up. I literally couldn’t do anything if I wanted to, Molly. I’ve never been like this around a guy before,” you tell her and she nods, eyes glazed over with thought.

“It’s like he completely pulled back though? Like he had a clear thought and just stopped, and then I left,” you finish. Maybe it’s because he remembered how wrong it was, or that you were his student, or that there’s a seven year gap between the two of you.

You’re not sure if that’s the truth. You’ve know this man for three days, and the first time you’re alone with him you can barely speak. You have to rationalise your thoughts- he is just another pretty face to you, but you can help but turn all mushy when he’s near.

Its attraction. Like when you see somebody in the street and think they’re hot- but this must go deeper because you’ve never frozen in the middle of the street when you see a hot guy.

“You’re just really attracted to him and it’s obvious he is to you too. I think you just need to shag him,” Molly announces, sprinkling some cheese on top of her pasta.

You scoff, twirling pasta around your own fork. “I do not want to shag the teacher,” Molly knows you’re lying, and somehow, so do you.

“Yeah and I can fly, if we’re both lying,” Molly mumbles, as she grabs your tv remote to turn on some background noise. “I think you should just shag him, see how you feel,” she puts a nonsensical reality tv show on, turning back to you.

It’s like a battle with yourself. One minute you’re sure you’re not attracted to him, you’ve not known him long enough, but then all of a sudden you’re reminding yourself how mushy he makes you feel- and now you know he wants you too.

You don’t know what to do.

You don’t go to class the next morning. You can’t, can’t look him in the eyes- or maybe you can’t watch Kendra flirt with him again, you’re not sure.

Instead, you spend the day at home, mulling around in bed, tv quietly playing in the background. Whiskers is with you, not having left your side all day and you’re thankful.

Your phone dings, after being mostly quiet all day so you pick it up to see a barrage of texts from Molly.

He asked where you were

Seemed quite pissed that you weren’t in

Kendra tried to flirt with him and he basically told her to fuck off

Girl this man is obsessed

I’ve just left and he asked me to make sure you’re in next week

He wants you for real

Her texts make you feel sick. He wants you for real. The last text replays over and over in your head, making you feel dizzy. Maybe Molly was right, maybe you should try sex with him and see how you feel. Maybe it was just that, you were just very horny for him.

But then, that would make you like everyone else in your class, specifically Kendra, and you didn’t like how that made you feel.

You’d just have to go to class on Monday and see.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Whoa. I’m trying not to move it too fast 🥲🔫 Mayhaps a little bit of something mischievous next chapter!

Check out a teaser for a new series here <3

Tags ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

@dudenhaaa27 @outerbankspov @ayy1234567 @rxfecameronsslut @potter-head-phanatic @lilithblackkk

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Now (PT. 1)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]

(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony

@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,

If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']

Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

The night was young when everything went to chaos.

The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.

There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual. 

Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process. 

What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else. 

Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.

A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on. 

It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.

They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.

As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.

Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.

Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.

That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down. 

If only he could track your phone somehow-

["You have any new information yet?"]

Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face. 

How annoying.

"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."

["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]

Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.

Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.

… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.

"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."

Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.

["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]

Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.

["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]

["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]

["I am calm."]

["-and focus. We'll find them."]

Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset. 

Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.

Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.

["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]

Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.

["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]

["You don't actually believe that, right?"]

["..."]

Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.

["See? Even you don't believe it."]

[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]

["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]

["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]

["You don't fucking know that."]

Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.

["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]

Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search. 

If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.

Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.

However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.

Sighing, he kept looking.

Just where are you?

["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]

["Jason-!"]

["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]

["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]

["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]

["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]

["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]

["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]

["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]

Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page. 

After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.

It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on. 

From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.

He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.

They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.

Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.

["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]

A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything. 

["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]

["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]

["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]

["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]

"..."

Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.

["... Tim?"]

["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]

["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]

The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.

On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..

Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.

This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…

Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.

Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.

He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you. 

Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.

Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.

Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.

It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that. 

However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.

['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building. 

Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo. 

He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.

No way, he thought. No way.

Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.

He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.

Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.

Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.

He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search. 

Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.

He's done it. He's finally done it.

"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

["Language, Tim."]

Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down. 

"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.

["Did you find anything?"]

Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure. 

Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?

["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]

["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]

["What? I'm just saying-"] 

"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.

["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]

["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]

["Send me their location."]

["Send me the info too!"]

Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight. 

Of course. Just great.

["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]

Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected. 

["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]

["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]

["... You're not saying-"]

["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]

["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]

["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]

["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]

["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]

"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.

["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]

"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"

["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]

["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]

["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]

["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]

["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]

["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]

["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]

["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]

["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]

Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"

["No." Bruce said flatly.]

"But why!?"

["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]

"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"

["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]

["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]

["What?! Of course not-!"]

["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]

The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained. 

They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?

Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.

They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.

"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now. 

["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]

Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.

"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.

["It's Dick."]

["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]

["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]

"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."

["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]

Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.

["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]

["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]

["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]

["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]

["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]

Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.

—

You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.

Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.

Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress. 

You felt… happy here. At peace, even.

You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along. 

Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.

You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.

Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.

You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?

Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.

However, another set of knocks sounded. 

They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.

It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.

Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.

More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.

Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out. 

Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door. 

Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.

Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side. 

Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.

It was only then did you understand.

You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.

How… how did they know where you live?

You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.

Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.

Fuck. He was getting impatient.

Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.

Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.

As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.

Oh god, you were really doing this.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory. 

"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.

You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.

"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.

"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.

"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax. 

Was he always so… tense?

"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible. 

Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself. 

Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.

"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...

Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.

Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.

Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.

"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door. 

"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.

Did they always scare you this much?

"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.

"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing." 

"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.

"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.

"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

"My place?" 

"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"

"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.

"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place." 

"Well, there is the-"

"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.

"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.

"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.

"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.

Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath. 

You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart. 

Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you,  or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.

There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.

On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?

You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.

All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.

Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.

Neither smile reached either of your eyes.

"So, you know where it is?"

"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk." 

"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"

"No, um. I can lead."

"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.

You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.

An awkward silence fell over both of you.

You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.

Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.

Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.

So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.

Yet you still couldn’t shake it.

The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.

You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?

CRACK.

Perhaps you spoke too soon.

A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off. 

It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.

What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped. 

Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.

"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.

Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne. 

You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.

Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?

You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.

So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."

Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.

Your body refused to relax after that.

You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.

Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.

You're going to be okay.

CRACK!

You're going to be fine.

SNAP!

You're going to make it through this.

POP!

You could tough it out.

"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.

This would all be over soon.

So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too. 

You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?

You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.

Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.

Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.

"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.

"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.

"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.

A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.

"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.

"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.

"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.

"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.

It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.

"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes. 

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"

You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link. 

You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"

"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart. 

"Jim? Like the commissioner?"

"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."

"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."

"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.

"Right… yeah."

Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?" 

"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.

"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know." 

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed. 

Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all. 

You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.

"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.

"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people." 

You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.

The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away. 

The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.

"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."

You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."

"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.

"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."

"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?" 

"Jess!"

"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.

You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.

It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.

Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.

"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to." 

You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.

You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."

Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.

"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.

"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.

You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.

You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.

"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?

You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.

You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.

Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.

Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.

Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?

You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.

Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.

"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.

"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."

You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.

"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.

"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.

"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.

"Is… everything okay?" 

"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"

"Oh. Alright then."

Another beat of silence passed over both of you.

You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.

You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.

"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.

"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.

"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.

For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.

Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.

He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.

So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.

"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.

So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face. 

He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.

His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.

"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.

Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.

You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away. 

Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?

How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.

You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.

"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again. 

You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.

Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.

It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.

He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.

Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates. 

Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.

There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.

['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']

You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.

"So, where are we going?" 

"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.

After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.

"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.

"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.

"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people. 

"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them. 

"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.

Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking. 

You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.

Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?

"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried." 

You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….

Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.

Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."

Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."

"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."

"It won't, not with me around."

"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."

You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"

"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"

"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.

"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."

"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."

"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"

"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?" 

"Now you're worried about being seen?"

"Like you weren't before-"

"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish!"

"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.

"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.

"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.

You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.

With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.

"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.

"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.

"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.

"I'm just saying…" 

"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.

He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.

"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.

"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point. 

You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"

"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.

"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that." 

"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."

"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"

"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"

"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"

Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.

"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing." 

"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"

"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.

"You… have a roommate?" 

"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"

"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"

"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life." 

"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."

You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.

How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?

You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him. 

You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive. 

The thought alone made you feel uneasy.

-------------------

[Chapter 3, part 2]

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

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