#also i'm not going back to that other place again because it wasn't the first time the same person had done barely anything to my hair 🤨

[eregyrn-falls]

^^^^^^ !!!!!

There's so much I'd like to add but it would be carrying coals to Newcastle. Great post! (And a lot of great tag-rants in the notes, too.)

I did want to add one thought to this set of tags from @achromaticegoist, about the punch in particular.

It took me a long while to realize it, but not only is the punch reflective of a whole lot of things about Ford's state of mind on his arrival back through the portral... but, it also serves as some really interesting closure (and I'm not even sure the writers realized it).

In the episode, it's told out of order, so we see the punch FIRST. But later in the ep, when we see the fight that led to Ford going through the portal in the first place, what happens is that he and scan are scuffling, and there's that moment when Ford pushes Stan off with his foot and inadvertantly presses Stan against the glowing (apparently red-hot) symbol on the side of the control panel.

Stan screams in pain, of course. And immediately, Ford is suddenly worried, and contrite. He says, "Stanley! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! Are you alr-"

And Stan punches him in the face.

That punch is what sends Ford stumbling out into the portal room and falling against the activation lever; and landing inside the danger zone. Ford does get up, but before he gets a chance to say anything else, Stan shoves the journal into his chest, Ford begins to float, and the disaster unfolds from there.

We don't spend enough time thinking that, basically, from Ford's point of view (if he replayed those last moments over and over in his head, as he probably did), the last things that Stan did to him was: punch him in the face, and then shoving him into the portal. The latter was accidental (though disastrous); but the first kind of wasn't. Ford stopped fighting, switching to concern and apology. While Stan lashing out due to the pain is understandable, Stan's punch is what prevents the fight from being over.

Ford coming out of the portal 30 years later and immediately punching Stan in the face kind of creates a book-end with that earlier punch from Stan, doesn't it? Ford getting to hit back the way he didn't (wouldn't?) 30 years ago. (He stands up, but he just stands there angrily staring at and listening to Stan as he approaches. He doesn't try to leap at Stan again or try to wrestle him for the book, etc. Was Ford, effectively, done fighting the moment Stan got seriously hurt?)

As I said, I'm not sure the writers were thinking about that consciously. I don't remember hearing them comment about it (i.e. that Ford's punch was a mirror of the punch that Stan gave him 30 years prior). But I do like to look at what's written and think about it in terms of, these scenes are deliberately written, the way it goes and the details included are chosen, often at the end of a long process of collaboration. I think that what's chosen for the final version is always very interesting.

And I just don't often see people discuss that moment where Ford stops fighting, and immediately becomes worried and apologetic. Not least because, like... up to that point in the series, we haven't seen Stan be apologetic very often. A few times, yes! And it's always notable when he does it. It clashes with the exterior he presents to the world; the man for whom saying "Please" gives him physical pain, etc. Some of which is meant for laughs, too! And some of which is just the product of being hardened by experience and so on.

It tells us something, I think, that Stan truly getting hurt, and screaming in pain, is enough to end Ford's desire to fight. That even after 10+ years of estrangement, he's that ready to be concerned for Stan; and that he's that ready with an apology. Later reads of Ford (post-portal) will portray him as the man who won't say "thank you", and I have other thoughts and feelings about that. But getting back to this, it's the show's choice to have Ford stop their fight and make a slight turn towards a sort of reconciliation. When they could have easily just had him and Stan keep fighting and struggling and the portal turn on because of that. It's such an interesting writing decision; and I just don't hear people dig into what it means for the characters very often.

What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD

(Love him anyways obvs)

I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*

*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**

(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)

His biggest sins in the show:

After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.

Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.

Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.

??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.

He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.

When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.

When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.

When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.

When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.

When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.

When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.

When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.

You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power—he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.

Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.

Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.

And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.

He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!

When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.

When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).

He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.

As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.

When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.

And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.

And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.

And then he tries to kill Bill again.

And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.

Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.

But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."

And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.

Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.

[theflyingfeeling]

...💇‍♀️

[adore-gregor]

ugh there it goes

[hedgehog-moss]

I went to the small pizzeria in a nearby village last month and asked for a calzone, and when she brought it to me the owner had a look on her face I can only describe as bitter.

Naturally my first assumption was that she was judging me for my food order (maybe calzones are too easy compared to other pizzas and she felt under-challenged as a pizza chef?), but then I looked at my calzone and the more I looked at it, the more I felt like it might have been a failed attempt at a cat calzone.

(I didn't ask for a cat calzone, just a calzone.)

If I had immediately identified it as a cat calzone I would have of course said something about it, such as "Aww that's so cute! You made it in the shape of a cat!! Thank you!" — but it was too late. I hesitated too long, and it was just failed enough that I wasn't sure it was meant to be a cat.

I think this poor woman knew her cat calzone was a failure and I wouldn't be able to recognise her effort for what it was, hence the bitterness in her eyes when she brought it to me.

I asked my friend if my pizza looked like a cat to her, and she said "Are you saying this because of the olives? I think they were just placed randomly."

no, I think they were meant to be eyes, and a cat nose. And those are the ears. Wait, I'll turn it in your direction so you can see

Friend: "It's just a pointy calzone... Maybe you should ask the chef if she meant to make it a cat?"

If I tried to make a cat calzone and the recipient of this gift went like 'hey, sorry, is this weird-looking thing meant to be cat?' I would sell my pizza restaurant and drown myself in the river.

After considering this, my friend said we could brainstorm a better phrasing—but then we ended up agreeing that since the chef didn't go 'haha sorry I tried to make a cat and failed!!' when she brought my pizza, the options were a) she didn't try to make a cat; b) she feels humiliated by her failure, and either way it's better to say nothing.

But I felt deeply curious about this unresolved mystery, so this week when I went back to the pizzeria I asked for a calzone again.

The options were now: a) the chef brings me a better, recognisable cat calzone and I immediately remark upon it and she's happy and we erase the failed cat calzone from the historical record and never mention it ever;

or b) the chef brings me a normal calzone, which suggests that the vague cat shape from last time was accidental and just another instance of chronic cat pareidolia.

(I refused to consider option c) The chef brings me another failed, hardly-recognisable cat. She just doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let that happen to her twice.)

Here's the photo of the failed cat calzone from last time, which, according to my friend, just looks like a pointy calzone with randomly-placed olives and not a deliberate attempt to make a cat:

And here's what the chef brought me this time:

THAT'S A CAT.

I knew it!!!!

And it looks so sad!! This cat calzone looks like it will burst into olive oil tears if you once again fail to identify it as the cat that it is

But I didn't; I was so ready this time. I went "A cat!!!!! It's so cute!" and the chef went like yes!!! I tried to make one last time but it looked weird :(

I said I was pretty sure it was a cat last time and apologised for not bringing it up and she said no, it's my responsibility to make it a decent cat. She also said she was glad I'd come back and ordered another calzone because she was really bothered ("vraiment embêtée") by that first failed attempt, and wondering if I'd noticed an attempt was made (and failed)

That's so relatable. It's like when you make a really embarrassing spelling mistake in a text and you're not sure if the other person has seen it and is judging you for it. Should you bring it up? Can it go unnoticed if you don't? It's the cat calzone equivalent of that. I'm so glad we were able to clear the air.

[foxxsong]

.

[buckyalpine]

Bucky and Alpine are my favorite duo !! He’d be such a cute cat dad . And I just imagine Alpine not being fond of company, just like her grumpy dad . And if he’s ever brought over any girl he’d always hiss and try to wack them . But when you’re in his home for the first time , Bucky is worried it’s gonna happen again . But Alpine instantly curls in your legs and purrs for your to pet her. When you sit on the couch , she follows you and nudges your jaw or hand to give her scratches and ends up falling asleep on your lap . Bucky is bewildered this is happening and his heart warms that his baby likes you . Overtime you and Alpine are inseparable and Bucky’s favorite thing is to come back home to you and Alpine curled up on the couch , giving the both of you head kisses (🐚)

I LOVE THISS. Alpine takes after her daddy 100%. Ever since he adopted her and tucked into into his leather jacket, the two have been joined at the hip. They are inseparable. It's always just been the two of them. Just her and her favorite hooman, cuddling, napping, judging anything with a pulse.

It's perfect.

Until he starts to date. Alpine hates it. The way these girls look at her daddy, swooning and giggling, always trying to take away her favourite spot; her daddy's lap. That place is reserved for her and her only. No one else gets to nuzzle into his neck or curl up on his chest. Taking up her spot on his bed is also a huge no-no. She hated how they'd squeal or screech trying to pet her or worse, pick her up for a cuddle. Disgusting. There had already been a few close calls but Alpine made sure it never went a step further. A swing of her little paw to the head is enough to send most away instantly.

Who were these strangers and why did they keep disturbing her. She hated people.

Except her daddy.

"Um-"

"Bucky if you're not sure about this, we can wait-

"No!" Bucky shakes his head, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while you waited for him to open the door to his apartment. How was he supposed to tell you that the reason he was worried about bringing you home was because his life was ruled by his cat. That the little fluffy ball of fur controlled who went in and out of the house; anyone that wasn't him, wasn't welcome. The first dates he brought over didn't matter all too much. Bucky didn't see much of a future with them anyway so he didn't try to get his furbaby to warm up to them with a second try.

You were different.

He'd liked girls before but this time he was certain it was love. The last thing he wanted was for his 3 lb, 1ft fluffy demon to chase you away too.

"I don't want to wait, it's not that I'm not ready" Bucky nervously chewed his lip, "I guess I'm just nervous" He played it off, not wanting to worry you as he fished his keys out of his pocket.

"We can take all the time you need, Sergeant" You gave his hand a gentle squeeze with a reassuring smile, "M'not going anywhere"

Love. He definitely loved you. How he hoped his cat would be in a good mood.

-

Alpine narrowed her eyes at the door hearing more than one voice, ready to pounce on whoever walked through. The furs on her neck stood up as Bucky walked in, accompanied by his date though this was different. Her daddy didn't seem as sure of himself as he usually did. He was stumbling over his words. She was sure she could feel his body heat radiating off him from feet away. He had shy smile plastered on his face the entire time as he brought her into the apartment. In Alpines opinion, he looked like an idiot, nearly tripping over one of her mice and blushing like a school boy.

This girl wasn't like the others.

Her daddy really liked this one.

A lot.

-

As soon as you sat down, Alpine decided to introduce herself, hopping into your lap and nuding her head into your hand. You giggled, giving her a gentle scratch before setting your hand down to give her some space but she didn't seem interested in you stopping. She purred at the soft coo's you made, nuzzling her head further for more pets.

"Merp" Alpine let out a content chitter while you were none the wiser.

"She's so friendly" You whispered, not wanting to disturb Bucky's little best friend while he blinked in confusion, stunned seeing his tiny ball of havoc curled into your lap, making biscuits with her paws, a content purr rumbling from her chest.

"Aren't you a sweet angel" You whispered, continuing to pet her silky fur as she slept soundly, not realizing Bucky's jaw on the floor. "What's her name?"

"This little shit"

Your face twisted in confusion while Bucky still didn't answer your question, slowly and silently moving himself until he was at eye-level with his master.

"Hey" He whisper hissed, cocking an eyebrow when she reluctantly opened one eye, "Alp, you little shit"

"Merp" Alpine gave Bucky's cheek a light swat of her paw before cuddling up further into your lap leaving you in stitches.

"I see she owns you" You giggled while Bucky shook his head, butterflies already erupting in his tummy. He already knew you were special but if Alpine liked you, that was something else. Seeing his baby fall in love with you the way he did sealed it all. It became something Bucky never got tired of seeing; his precious little angel doting and cuddling up with the girl of his dreams. Whenever you were around, Alpine was instantly in your lap or in your arms, the two of you inseparable.

-

"Doll? Alpline?" Bucky called as he dropped his bag at the front door, toeing his boots off and stretching before making his way to the living room.

"My girls" he smiled, finding you both curled up with your favourite show on, Alpine sleeping on top of the soft blanket you were wrapped in, "How are you babygirl" Bucky leaned down to kiss the top of your head before kneeling down so he could give his fur baby one as well, "And you, princess"

"We missed you" You gave Bucky grabby hands, sighing happily as he wrapped you up in his arms, holding you extra tight before setting you back down.

"Not as much as me. I'll shower and we'll get some dinner" Bucky tucked you back in your blanket before scooping up Alpine in his arms for an extra cuddle, "Daddy missed you princess, shhh" Bucky shushed her discontent meowing as she was taken away from you. Her tail swished as he plopped her onto the bed and quickly showered, rustling from his bag before pulling out a little bag and a tiny box.

"Ready to surprise mommy?" Bucky whispered, fastening a red collar onto his cat and tying a ring that would sit under her chin with a little handwritten note. He picked up Alpine and set her on her way back to you before nervously wiping his hands against his jeans, taking a deep breath.

"What do you have there baby" Bucky could hear your voice from the living room, followed by a gasp. He took one final breath before making his way over.

He couldn't wait to marry you.

[cutieln4]

Fuck It I Love You | LN4

lando norris x reader, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

summary: lando and y/n seem to absolutely hate each other until a dangerous situation reveals the truth

warnings: drink spiking, threats of sexual assault (nothing graphic, someone tries to take her home)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For some reason, Lando and her never got along. It stemmed from when they were karting together, all the way until they both got to Formula 1.

Now, at ages 21 and 23, they drove for rival teams and were always going wheel to wheel.

Monza wasn't any different.

Max and Charles were far in front, but she and Lando were fighting over the last podium place. They were switching back and forth until on the last lap, she maybe pushed him a bit too far on one of the last corners, securing 3rd place.

He approached her when she was making her way back from the post-race press conference, on her way to the media pen.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

She shrugged, smirking. "Not quite sure what you're talking about."

"Oh don't play dumb. That was dirty racing on the last lap and you know it."

"I don't see how it's any different from what you did to me in Austria, or last year at Silverstone."

She could see his jaw clench, and she knew she got him.

"Maybe keep your talking on the track," she told him before he could reply, walking away.

That night she was at the club celebrating with a couple of the other drivers. She was pretty close with Max, Charles, Oscar, and Daniel. It made things a bit awkward with them when she and Lando were really going at it because they were all good friends with Lando too. But whatever, it was mostly fine.

She had been dancing and throwing back drinks until she forgot about her and Lando's feud. She's also pretty sure the other drivers got some embarrassing videos of her. Her current drink was eventually empty and she stumbled away to the bar, not telling anyone.

She waved the bartender over to ask for another drink, tipping them $20. If it weren't for the alcohol in her system, she would've flinched when a man suddenly appeared at her side. It was crowded by the bar, and he was pressing right against her.

"Hey baby, let me buy you a drink."

"That's alright, I already have one," she politely declined, hoping he would just leave her alone.

"Oh come on, don't be like that honey."

She twisted her neck around to try to spot the other drivers and when she did, she grabbed her drink and left. The man luckily didn't follow.

Halfway through her drink, she started noticing that something was wrong. Her head was spinning way more than it should be, she was sweating like crazy, nauseous, and her body felt heavy.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she slurred out to Max before stumbling away.

She didn't make it far before she was grabbing onto the wall to keep herself up. She knew at the moment that something was terribly wrong. She most likely had her drink spiked, and now she was separated from her group and incapacitated.

A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up. Her vision was too blurry to make out any features, but she knew it wasn't one of the drivers.

"You okay, babe? Let me help you."

"N-No, m' good, leav' me 'lone."

She tried to escape his grip, but she could barely move, her strength was completely gone. The man wrapped his whole arm around her waist, supporting her as he walked her out of the club while she tried to protest.

The cold, fresh air felt good when it hit her, but then she remembered what situation she was in. The man was dragging her along more roughly now.

"Stop, 'lease, I don' wanna go with you," her pleading sounded more and more like pathetic whimpers falling on unheard ears.

He just kept walking down the street, gripping her so hard there'd probably be bruises.

"Don't, please, leave me 'lone," she whined, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to escape his grip again.

He suddenly shoved her face-first into a building, rough concrete scraping her arms and face, and she fell to the ground.

"Shut up and don't move!" he hissed.

He yanked her back up and dragged her along.

"No, no, please, stop," she cried, nearly sobbing. She was scared, she couldn't feel anything, and she was completely separated from anyone she knew while some strange man was leading her somewhere.

"Hey!" another voice suddenly yelled, about 5 meters behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Whoever this person was, they sounded pissed.

"Nothing man, mind your business," the man next to her said.

"No, I won't mind my fucking business. Let go of her before I smash your face in."

The man scoffed, trying to continue walking.

"I warned you," the other man said before suddenly she fell to the ground and she heard a thud of skin-on-skin contact, before a groan.

She was on the ground, leaning her back against the wall while her head drooped to the side. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the punching continue.

"Stop, stop, man, I'm sorry!"

"Oh yeah? Did you listen to her when she asked you to stop?"

Eventually, it went quiet, and there were footsteps in her direction. The man who saved her crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her cheeks, supporting her head. It was then that her vision cleared up a bit, and she realized who the person was.

"Lando?" she asked, voice slurring.

"Yeah, it's me. I got you."

She started sobbing, trembling hands gripping his jacket as he wrapped her in a hug, letting her cry into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered to her as he rubbed her back.

"I-I was so, so scared," she cried.

"I know, I know. I got you."

Lando then used one hand to fish out his phone, calling the police. They waited while the police showed up, him trying to keep her awake.

When the police arrived, one of the officers arrested the unconscious man on the ground while the other rode with them in the ambulance to take their statements. Y/n never let go of Lando's hand once.

The hospital kept her overnight for observation after making sure whatever drug she was spiked with wasn't lethal, and collecting evidence and taking pictures of her injuries. She had finally given in to unconsciousness, and Lando was sitting next to her, holding her hand.

It was only when everything was a little settled down that he saw that she had nearly 100 missed calls from various drivers. Shit, he forgot about that.

He opened up his phone and called Daniel.

"Hey, man I can't talk right now," Daniel said right away, sounding panicked.

"Hold on—"

"Actually, do you by chance know where Y/n is?"

"Yeah, about that, I'm in the hospital—"

"What? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Can you let me finish my sentence? I'm with Y/n. She was drugged and I saw her on the street. Some man was dragging her with him, and she was clearly asking him to leave her alone. Anyway, she's a little banged up, but she's okay, nothing happened. They're just keeping her overnight for observation."

Daniel let out a big sigh of relief, said something to someone next to him, and then turned back to the phone.

"Thank fuck, we've been trying to find her for hours. Thank you, Lando, seriously. I can't imagine if you hadn't been there. What hospital is she at?"

After telling him where they were, he hung up. 

Lando sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he reflected on what the hell just happened. 

Y/n shifted in front of him, and he immediately sat up straight. 

"Lando?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and still half-asleep. 

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, but then her face crumpled, and she nodded. 

"It's okay, it's okay, don't cry," he soothed. 

"You saved me. I thought you would've just let him take me."

Lando's eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting just at the thought.

"Why would you think that?"

"You hate me," she muttered, eyes looking down. 

"I don't," he paused, hesitating. "I don't hate you at all. I...I didn't plan on ever telling you this, but I really like you. You're funny, you're witty, you're kind, you're fearless, you never back down from a challenge, and I love all those things about you. And I know you probably want nothing to do with me and you hate my guts, but I just need to get it off my chest―"

"―Lando, just shut up and kiss me. I like you too, idiot."

Lando grinned, showing the gap between his front two teeth that she always loved, and leaned down to connect their lips. 

"Do you think people would get suspicious if we stopped being mean to each other?" he asked.

"Probably. We should just hard launch."

"I don't think our PR teams would appreciate that."

Later, when Daniel made it to the hospital, he was extremely surprised to see the two of them cuddled up together. He just had to take a picture.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Now (PT. 2)

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

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Arguing, Awkward Tension(?), No One is Having a Good Time, Angst, Implied Past Injuries (To Reader)]

(When I say arguing I do mean it this time. Might be a bit more OOC? Dick is living up to his nickname. This is longer than the first part, just fyi - and by a good 4k or so words. Again, take your time and remember to take breaks!)

Didn't tag anyone on this post since both this part and the first are posted back to back :] Regardless, enjoy!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3 (PT. 1). [Series Masterlist]

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"I… I just don't think it's a good idea. It doesn't feel right, and- and I…" You couldn't think of much else to say. All the reasons you had felt too personal, and you didn't feel comfortable telling Dick any of them. Not out here, and certainly not while he was in the suit. Though even if he wasn't, you weren't sure that it'd make you any more willing to tell him anything. 

After all, you wouldn't even share the date of your birthday if he asked now, with or without the suit.

"Yeah, but why? It doesn't make sense to not go to either place just because you have a ‘bad feeling’ or anything. Even then, you'll be safe, and that's what really matters." That didn't feel like it was the case. Your safety doesn't feel like a priority over him just being able to keep an eye on you, and being able to pull anything he wants to without any prying eyes.

Though it was with that thought, did you wonder when you began to see Dick as someone so untrustworthy that you considered him to be on the same level as a thug out on the streets. Just far more dangerous and capable.

"Look, I just-" You sigh harshly, looking back at Dick as the fire in your chest rose, building up as it poked at your ribs and flesh. Begging for more air, more room to grow. "I'm going to the park. If you're not coming then that's fine by me, and if you're not okay with that, then there's nothing I can do about it." You state, looking forward as you pick up your pace. 

Dick fumbles over his words before he hurriedly matches your pace, "Wait! Let's try and think this over-"

"Why? Even if we're out in the open, you're still a vigilante. If you can defend and look after an entire city, then surely you can protect one person, right? Not to mention that I can take care of myself." You huff, still keeping your eyes forward even as they narrow. You add, "Besides, again- not many people are out tonight. And if anything- seem to be rushing home, because of whatever is going on. We'll be fine."

"Sure. Yeah. I can handle it- but wouldn't it be smarter to just be inside anyway? That way it's less likely for anything to happen. You have to think rationally-" You swiftly cut Dick off again, really trying to put your foot down and stand your ground here.

"I am thinking rationally. You're a skilled vigilante that's been trained under Batman, and have only improved in skill and technique over the years. If anything goes wrong, and I can't handle it, you can. Not to mention that you have a way to contact the others if things really do go sideways, and you're in the suit. I didn't think I needed to say anything else." You sigh, lightly scratching the cup in your hands with your nail.

"Also, if you haven't noticed, even criminals and thugs are running home. It's like some kind of quarantine or lock down is going on. Some random person eavesdropping on us doesn't seem like it'll be a problem. Let alone with all of the noises that seem to be 'persuading' people to go home."

Dick could only sigh himself before saying, "Alright- okay. Fine. But like you said, I'm still in the suit."

"And?"

"And someone could see, and think that you're a close tie to me or something. You could be put in more danger."

"Are you actually worried about that now? You've been walking beside me this entire time when you didn't have to, and it's only now that you're worried about me being seen with you in the suit?"

"How else are we supposed to have this conversation? And I'm sorry for being worried about your safety, and well-being in the future for being seen with me." You could practically hear the eye-roll in Dick's voice despite knowing that he didn't actually do it. When did he get so sarcastic?

"That's not the issue, and you know that. We could've figured out some other way to have this talk, and you didn't have to walk beside me this entire time." You shot him a glance, causing Dick to sigh again.

"What if something happened while I was up top, and I couldn't react fast enough because I wasn't next to you? Someone could've tried something if I wasn't there, especially because you'd appear to be by yourself."

"So… remind me again, who's the paranoid one?"

"Y/n, I'm being serious." Dick states.

"I know. I'm being serious too, and I'm just saying that it's kind of ridiculous to be worrying about that now when it's already been a few minutes." You huff, "And I don't know what you expect me to do about it. I'm not the one in the suit, y'know. Why don't you just go and change somewhere?"

Dick rubs his nose bridge, getting annoyed but not trying to show it as he says, "Fine. I can do that, but at least come with me." He looks at you expectantly as his hand drops from his face. You couldn't help but raise a brow at his words.

"Why?"

"So that I can keep an eye on you…? And if anything happens while I'm changing- I'll be able to jump in and help much faster?" Dick said, confused. Talking as if he was stating the obvious, and maybe he was in a way, but you didn't see why he's so adamant about being close to you enough where he could easily protect you or reach you if needed.

"But wouldn't that kind of go against the point of you changing…?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I wait somewhere and Nightwing walks off, only for you-know-who to pop up after a little while, and we walk off together, wouldn't that be weird? Or at least hint at a certain something?" You point out, a little confused and surprised that you even had to explain this to Dick.

"C'mon, I won't be that obvious. And even then, no one will be able to figure it out."

"You say that like every other villain or wannabe in Gotham isn't some genius or anything. They're criminals and all that, but they aren't entirely stupid."

Dick sighs, though it came out more frustrated than he would’ve liked as he ran a hand through his hair once again, "Still, I'd just like for you to at least be close by. I don't want anything to happen to you, and I want to be able to help out as soon and as quickly as I can if anything does." He explains, getting a little closer to you.

"Please, Y/n. Just come with me."

You shake your head, your shoulders feeling far too heavy, and the flame in your chest was much too hot for you to even think about it. You knew Dick wasn't happy about it when he gave you a little room, but still kept close. As if hoping you'd change your mind, despite already knowing the answer.

"I'll just head to the park, and wait a few minutes. I'm not defenseless and can handle myself for a while, and it's not my fault that I could be in more potential danger because someone thought it was a good idea to come see me, and follow me around while in their suit. You can figure it out, and live without me for a few minutes." You huff harshly, adding, "If you aren't there after that time? I'm leaving. That's all." Once again, you pick up your pace, only to be stopped by Dick as he rushes in front of you.

"Wait- hold on. Are you sure about this? I don't think it's a good idea- and how long exactly will you be waiting? Where are you going if you leave? Are you going back to the apartment? Are you going home?" You don't like how hopeful Dick looked when he asked you that last question, but you push your discomfort to the side, and stand your ground.

"I'm an adult, and I'm a L/n. I'm sure about this. You can think whatever you want, and like I said- I'll be waiting a few minutes. If you're not there by then, I'm going to leave." You narrow your eyes at Dick, piercing him with your gaze as you said, "I've made my choice and I'm sticking to it. If you're not happy about it, or don't agree, then you can leave and I'll go on with my night. I'll wait at the park, and that's that." You state one final time before making your way around Dick, and continuing to walk forward. Luckily, he didn't try to stop you again, and if anything — seemed to stop following you entirely.

All you heard was a low scoff from behind you, and the rush of wind.

When you glance back, Dick was gone, and it was only then did you realize how heavy the air felt. Releasing the breath you didn't know you had been holding, you clutch your chest. Your heart aches, and yet you manage to push on.

Tonight wasn't exactly going well for you, but that almost tipped you over the edge.

You were beginning to hate many things about tonight, along with Dick. It almost made you think that maybe you were lucky back when he hardly ever noticed or talked to you. It made things easier, after all, and of course now that you've had your longest conversation with him — things were only getting harder.

Every word he said made him seem bigger, or pushed you down as an attempt to make you smaller. His reasoning could go from making complete sense, to being outright idiotic and paranoid. With each action of his being either too small or way too much. 

Dick, in that way, was too much.

You could chalk up some of your discomfort and nervousness to your lack of experience with Dick, and being around him. Of course some of his antics and habits would seem strange to you — since you were never able to see much of them, and those that you did notice were from a far, and never up close. You weren't able to experience them yourself, not until now. Though that almost made you grateful for all the times he turned you down or ignored you, seeing as now you could only see how much of a handful he is to deal with. 

Maybe that could've changed if you were more familiar with him, but it was too late for that now. Even if you did wonder how this whole thing would've gone if you did know him. If you were more familiar with how Dick acted, and had actually managed to spend time with him. If Dick was more familiar with you, and how that'd change this whole situation�� but, again, it was much too late for that. If he really wanted to know you, he would've taken one of the chances you gave him over the years, and yet he didn't. No one did. No one except for Alfred…

You hope he's okay, at least.

Shaking your head, you push your thoughts to the side. There was no use thinking about 'what if's, not when such thoughts and possibilities kept you in the manor for so long. Not when your mind used them against you, and had you keep that pathetic hope you once desperately clung onto. You promised yourself you wouldn't do that anymore, and so you took a breath, and tried to stop them from coming in. They always slip by, but you try to ignore them. Especially since they caused you so much trouble that could have easily been avoided in the past.

You took a small sip of your coffee, only to pull it away and look at the cup strangely. 

It was… bitter. More so than you remember, and it immediately struck you as odd. Since, Jessica always managed to make your coffee the exact same way every time, and even if she did make some mistakes here and there, the change was never this significant or noticeable. Not like it was now, with the taste lingering on your tongue, almost trying to further stain your taste buds and remain there for as long as possible. As if trying to permanently ingrain itself in your mouth.

You couldn't help but cringe a bit. Maybe getting coffee really was a bad idea after all…

Sighing, you just continue on and brush the weird occurrence to the side. Whatever, you have enough things to deal with and worry about now. There wasn't much you could do about the coffee, and if anything, maybe that just went to further show how horrible your night is going thanks to Dick. 

Though, you wouldn't push it that far, even if your opinion of him was definitely souring by the minute, but the thought was pretty funny to think about, at least.

The night felt calm for once, and it’s only now, with you by yourself, do you realize how much you needed this.

Sure, Gotham was potentially going to hell, and you might see Dick again in a few minutes, but you don't have to worry about that right now. Just here, in the streets, did you have… normal problems. Problems unrelated to a family you no longer wanted to involve yourself with, that also just so happened to be made up of vigilantes. Problems that didn't involve your musical career, and how your rise to fame was becoming both an inconvenience, and a bit of an issue. Problems that… just about everyone has dealt with one way or another.

Your coffee didn't taste quite right, you felt exhausted despite having only walked a bit, and your social battery was just about to hit its limit. The air was just a tad too cold for the clothes you were wearing, you had a strong desire to crawl into bed and sleep like you had nothing else to worry about, and really — besides yourself and making a few dumb mistakes, the only thing you really had to worry about here was getting mugged. Maybe even jumped, at a push.

Yet, such things got a light, airy laugh out of you. You felt so at ease by yourself, and during the most dangerous hours of the night, no less. Despite everything, you couldn't help but find a bit of humor in it, and such a little thing even made you feel better. That uncomfortable heat in your chest dying down, and almost going away entirely as you cooled off.

As funny as it was, you felt safer and so much more at ease without the person that was so adamant about wanting to do all of these things, to protect you. How could you not laugh at the irony?

Suddenly, the bitter taste on your tongue didn't feel so bad anymore.

Walking along Gotham streets when it was so quiet still made you feel a bit uneasy, but for the time being you were able to find some small peace with it. After all, who knew when you'd get another breather like this? Especially with whatever business Dick had with you. Vigilante and hero work wasn't exactly known to be light and easy, after all. 

So, you took this moment as it is. Finding odd little details in the night that helped you relax as much as you could before things continued.

Honestly, you didn't think you were ready for whatever Dick was about to talk about or mention, but you doubt any of it could surprise you. After all, in a city where a villain breaking out of the local prison or asylum every now and again during the week was normal, it was hard to be surprised by things related to such occurrences. Since, it even felt like someone was trying to blow up the place at least twice a month, and robberies were so common that it was a wonder that anyone had any fortune left to protect at all.

Though it did still make you curious about what’s going on. 

Obviously, it couldn't be any good, but it just seems too… quiet to be anyone that Gotham had already seen before. Seeing as the usual villains and whatnot always made some kind of mess, or made things as extravagant and entertaining as possible. Almost like a certain clown that loved to try and run circles around a certain bat.

Regardless of that, however, you were still more curious about why Dick — or any of the others, really — had bothered to seek you out at all. Sure, the first thing that came to mind was that they need you for something, rather that be for help or something else entirely, but that's only because it made the most sense to you. Why else would they try to find out where you live? You couldn't think of another reason. Though, again, maybe that was because they had ignored you for so long? Even then, you can't think of anything else. 

Besides help and such, nothing else made any logical sense to you. There is no other reason. There couldn't be, and if there is — you couldn't think of it. They couldn't just be here for you. They almost weren't capable of it. You're sure, since they have made it very clear a long time ago. You were just too naive and blind to see it at first, but now you did, and you don't plan on becoming blind to that again…

Nevertheless, you continue on your little path.

Now that Dick wasn't with you, your journey to the park was short, and much more peaceful and quiet. It was almost calm in an odd way, but you appreciated it all the same.

The park held that strange feeling of abandonment and emptiness that most of Gotham seemed to have tonight — thanks to whatever was going on — but you manage to ignore it for the most part. Making your way around the park, your pace was slower and your breath was a bit heavier. You felt like you were prolonging the inevitable, and such a feeling spawned so much dread that you almost choked on it. However, you manage, and instead try to find a good place to sit and wait for the time being.

Sure, it would be easy to leave and just go on with your night, but you did want to stay true to your word even if only a little. It's the least you could do, since this would be the last thing you'd ever do for any of them, anyway. 

Besides, you were better than them in that way — following through with what you said, instead of saying a ‘maybe’ that'll never come, or a ‘next time’ that'll never arrive. Always stuck to a tomorrow that was always just out of reach.

Your words held meaning, unlike theirs.

Moving on, you eventually found a good spot. It was closer to the center of the park, and the moon could be seen as clearly as it could be with all of the clouds passing by, and building up. The air had an odd moist and damp feeling to it, and it made you think that it might rain after all, seeing as you remember hearing something about it earlier in the day. Yet, that just gave you all the more reason to hope that this whole thing would be wrapped up soon. Though whether that happened with Dick not showing up, or him making good time and keeping things short and simple, you didn't care.

Even if you did hope that he just wouldn't show. For both his sake, and your own.

Settling down on a park bench off to the side of the path, you took a big breath, before letting it all out. You still don't have a good feeling about this, but you'd take all the little victories you could. Since, you managed to avoid going to the manor and clock tower by some miracle, and even got Dick to leave you alone for a little while. Even if a small part of yourself did wish that you had pissed him off enough for him to leave you alone, you wouldn't count on it. He seemed oddly stubborn about sticking around, or to at least keep you around him, and though it made you feel uncomfortable, it unfortunately meant that there was a chance that he'd actually show up again.

You'd pray if you had any faith left, but you don't. Not at the moment, and certainly not with that possibility hanging over your head, just waiting to drop and crush you under its weight. Though for now, you'd try to not think about it as you look around, taking in the dark scenery instead.

The darkness of the night shaded over the park in an ominous, beautiful way. With the trees looming over you, and their leaves providing more shade than necessary. As if trying to protect you from the moon's stare as much as they could. The clouds slowly crawled over the sky, waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop all they were carrying — and leave the burden for Gotham to hold. They covered what could be made out of the blank, pitch black void that was the night sky, with the moon trying its hardest to shine through. To take a glimpse of the chaos below, and judge you in its silence.

A loose breeze drifts by, causing you to shiver thanks to its added chill over the night's natural coolness. The sounds of nature were hardly audible, as if even the insects have been silenced by whatever is going on, and the only thing you could hear was that constant, sickening snapping and cracking of broken bones, and that popping from joints getting dislocated. Even if such noises were much fainter now, thanks to the spot you've chosen, they still managed to reach you here, and dominate all other noises that tried to make themselves known, with its echo.

You could only sympathize with their desperation to be heard, to be noticed — only for the violence to cover all of their efforts. Maybe you'd even pity them, but you already felt foolish over your emotions, and feeling sympathy over noises was silly enough. You have already made enough humorous and dumb choices tonight, so you'd at least try to not make another. Even if you bothering to actually wait here, instead of leaving right away, is dumb enough.

You don't know if it was hilarious or sad how many stupid choices you’re making in one night, and all because of the people you are trying to leave behind. People you were so sure would never bother to look for you or even give you a single thought, and yet here you are now. Waiting for one of them to show up – only because suddenly he couldn't leave you alone. Almost like he couldn't afford to, and now you couldn't help but debate over the humor and sadness of that.

Of course it had to be now, it had to be tonight, that one of them showed up - but you don't know what exactly you're expecting. After all, if one of them were to try and show their face to you despite everything, it would be at the worst time possible. It felt fitting in an odd way, so maybe it was only right that things went down like this. That life throw one of the biggest ‘fuck you's it could at you, during a time where you are trying to recover. To heal. To get better.

Of course he just had to show his face when you were done with him — with them, and their whole family. It had to be now, when you're trying to move on, did an effort have to be made. It couldn't be while you were in the manor - when you were trying to do the same.

… Maybe you should've let him bust open the door to your apartment after all, and just ran away while you still had the chance. 

Yet, as if knowing you were thinking of walking away while he still wasn't around, Dick finally appeared and made himself known with a little whistle.

You turn your head and face him, his appearance almost making you laugh, but you didn't have it in you to do so. Much too exhausted and fatigued to even try, and your feelings were too mixed up to even consider the thought. Though you did have to admit, he did look a little funny.

Dick almost looked out of breath, but he still manages a smile when you turn to look at him. The clothes he wore looked strangely baggy, and you could've sworn that you saw the smallest glimpses of various price tags that were tucked away sloppily. Which made it look like he really was in a rush, and… well, you didn't know how to feel about that. Yet, in that same moment, you caught the tiniest bit of his suit right under the shirt he wore. Further ‘hinting’ at the fact that Dick had been in such a hurry that he didn't actually bother to change, and instead opted to cover up his suit.

His mask was off, at least, and for a moment you wondered where he put it until you noticed him subtly stuffing something in his pocket. Which is funny as it is concerning.

Dick wore an oversized coat that he left open, with a collar shirt underneath that had two of the buttons unbuttoned, along with sweatpants and shoes that didn't quite look his size. All in all, he looked like a mess, but Wayne's look good in everything for a reason, you suppose.

“Made it just in time! I told you I would, didn't I?” Dick chuckles, still holding onto the coffee you had given him earlier with one hand. The smile on his face quickly grew into a playful smirk, and you didn't know if you should find it weird or oddly scary how much closer he seems to be to the side of him you've only seen at a distance before. The side you have seen at galas or with his family, occasionally. A side you didn't have any personal experience with until now, and the dread you felt from before only grew at that.

“Um, no, you didn't-” You try to point out, only for him to cut you off.

“Well, it probably just slipped my mind, but I'm here now!” He muses, and you can’t help but find his tone off putting considering how things ended off a few minutes ago. He both looks and sounds way too happy for someone who was so annoyed with you before. 

“I didn't keep you waiting, did I?” Dick steps closer, making his way over to you casually. Not a single trace of his previous demeanor could be found.

You can't help but move a little further away, and bite your tongue. You hoped he would've, that he did, but unfortunately he did make good time. Since, from the moment you sat down, Dick appeared only a minute after, and had it not been for his messy outfit, you would've thought that he had planned this whole thing out — down to the very last second.

“No…” You drag on, looking away once again, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Yet, despite the implications of it, Dick couldn't help but find it… cute, in an odd way. Causing him to exhale softly, his smirk dying back down into a smile. Blue hues shining as they look down at you.

He moves to sit down on the bench — noticing a spot next to you, but deciding to sit beside you instead. Still remaining close, but not getting in your space entirely, since he felt like you both weren't at that point just yet. There was an armrest between the both of you, and he felt as if that'd be enough for now. Even if he did want to move closer, he decides that this was the least he could do for having been ignoring your discomfort and clear nervousness thus far. 

While he still couldn’t fully bring himself to acknowledge or accept it — since he still doesn't want to think about it — he at least wants to try and do this small thing for you.

Though, the space between you and him would never be big enough for you to be comfortable. Since just knowing he was around, and that you were in his space, already made you feel a certain way, but he didn't have to know that. Not that you would tell him, anyway.

Dick took this little opportunity to take a slow, long sip of his coffee. The drink not quite to his liking, but he wouldn't complain since you seem to like that little diner, and the last thing he wants is for your opinion of him to get worse, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, it wasn't even that bad anyway, especially knowing that it came from a place that you enjoy going to.

Silence was quick to fall over the both of you again. Yet, this time, Dick didn't exactly have a problem with it.

Even if you weren't looking at him, he could still see that little twinkle in your eyes that the faint bits of moonlight were able to show and make clear. How your hair matched you just right, and the way you did it and took care of it completed your look even more. Along with how even the little things on your person said so much, yet so little, about who you are now. About who you have become after all this time. 

A sense of endearment and sentimentality suddenly washes over Dick, and he can't help but feel as if it were just yesterday that you were introduced to the whole family. Though he still couldn't quite describe the look in your eyes then, as there was an unmistakable hint of excitement and unfounded joy that lingered when you first met them all. When you first met him. 

You were such a little thing back then, and you have grown so much since. Dick still can't help but think about it even as he finally pulls the cup away from his lips, and sighs, content.

You were so small, and little. Your face round and youthful, hands soft and delicate - just like everything about you at the time. The world and the people in it were still so new to you, and you looked just about ready to explore it all. To see every little thing you could, and learn about everything that you found. ‘Wonder’ was the first word he thought of when he saw you that day, and looked at your expression. It was full of that child wonderment. 

Yet… look at you now. Grown, and significantly taller than you were before. Face matured and settled, but still did have a youthful look to it. He notes how your hands did seem to be a bit rougher, and instead of delicacy, he found a gentleness that was always there — but is more prominent now. That look of wonder gone, and now replaced with something more. Something complicated and complex in nature, and yet simple all the same. There's a sense of turmoil but… he couldn't look much deeper than that. He can't bring himself to.

Point is, you have clearly changed. 

Sure, he noted how you looked different and everything before, but now that same conclusion felt different in a strange way. Though maybe that was because he wasn't only looking at you now, but seeing you as well.

Dick doesn't just see the change in your clothes, and how your voice has changed its tempo and volume, but some other things as well. Maybe that's because he's able to connect some things he's learned about you over the course of the entire day, back to you and how you showed yourself now. How those details presented themselves in your appearance and mannerisms.

It’s a lot to take in, sure, but in this moment of silence - Dick found himself slowly absorbing all of this information, taking it all in and finding ways to love you through it. Even if the changes made a particular fact all the more clear — despite the time he has missed, he did genuinely love the person you have become. He does now, at least. 

Despite everything he has done to you, or lack thereof, you have managed so much on your own. Despite him and the family not being around when they could've, when they should've, you managed to pave your own path and face all the challenges it brought by yourself - from what Dick could tell anyway. Even if he wasn't fully aware of all you have gone through in his absence, and he knew that as well – you’re still here. You're sitting beside him, looking at the scenery of the park, coffee cup in hand, and just… living in this moment with him.

Dick didn't know when such small things made him feel so happy or content, but in this moment, with you, it's like all he could feel was happy and put together, in a weird way. He doesn't know how to describe it, but now that he's here with you, in your space and presence, he feels… whole. Complete. Like all the missing pieces he didn't even notice were gone, all fell into place when you were around. With you here with him, he feels the happiest he's been in a long while, and he couldn't even begin to explain why.

He's only really known you for a day, but it already felt like he's spent a lifetime with you.

“Hey… Y/n?” He spoke up, breaking the silence between the both of you, looking back at the coffee cup in his hands. “I just want to say that… I'm happy you're here, and that you let me see you.” He begins, slowly looking back at you, an easy but pleasant smile on his face. It was easily the most natural one he's shown you tonight, and his clear unannounced happiness, no matter how light, made the pit in your stomach grow deeper and wider.

Why is he looking at you like that? And why did it hurt to see it now? Why did it relight the fire in your chest, and make it burn - the flames barely tickling your chest from the inside? Why did you feel like this? What did you do to cause him to wear such a smile?

Why now? What was going on?

“I know we haven't talked much, or really hung out, but this… this is nice for what it's worth, and I'm happy that I get the chance to spend this time with you despite everything.” The small bits of moonlight shined in his eyes, almost making Dick appear better than he was. More friendly, charming, and brighter than you saw him as. You couldn't stand the sight. Your dread growing much too big for you to keep looking at him.

So, you look away. Hoping that Dick would get whatever kind of message you were trying to send - and yet, even if he saw it, he didn't bother to decipher it. Words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think them over, too deep in his own feelings to see yours. Though he doesn't seem to mind as he said the words that began to fill his heart, and let them out into the open air. The wind whisking them away, and shoving them into your ears.

“You… mean a lot to me, and I know that, again, we haven’t really done much together, or really spent the most time together either, but- you matter to me. You’re important to me, and I’m sorry that was never made clear before.” He blurts out, heart aching and swelling at his own words, but Dick just couldn’t help himself. He feels like he needs to say something, to say this, and he doesn't want to have to wait any longer to say it. Even if you don’t like him or saw him a certain way, he wants to at least say this. To tell you his truth - his new truth. A truth that is becoming more clear to him as the seconds pass. Seconds he spent with you. “I know that I’ve messed up- a lot, and I know that it isn’t just me that made things turn out like this, but I at least want to let you know that I do care about you. I just…” Dick ran a hand through his hair, pausing for a moment as countless words he wanted to say float around in his head, but he just didn't know how to say them. Or even say them in a way that would get you to understand, or at least hear him out.

He looks away for a moment before looking back at you. Hand dropping and folding around his cup once again. “I’m sorry, for everything. For missing your concerts and performances, and just- everything. I should’ve been there, and even if I was busy, that isn’t an excuse. I should’ve made time for you, I could’ve, and yet it just always slipped my mind and… I should’ve never done that to you. You didn’t- you don’t deserve to go through that, you didn’t have to, and yet you did, and I’m just.. so sorry that now is the time that I’m realizing this. You… you deserve so much more than what we gave you, and I’m sorry if that made you feel any less than what you are- because you are amazing, and wonderful, and bright-!”

“You’re.. you’re a lot of things, and I really couldn’t list them all since I’m still slowly seeing it all for myself. Though even then, we’d be here for a while… wouldn’t we?” Dick chuckles lightly, a tinge of endearment in his tone, with a hint of a softness that was slowly becoming more and more apparent as he went on. His expression softened even more, and yet all you could feel was dread and anger that grew with each sentence that fell out of his mouth.

Was he messing with you? Was Dick trying to make himself feel better about everything, or just mess you up even more? Maybe both?

Why was he saying all of this now? Why tonight? Why now of all times? His words… they couldn’t be true. They can’t be. If they were, if they are – then why did he wait so long? How come he didn’t realize anything sooner? Why couldn’t he realize it sooner? Why now? Why right this minute, when you were almost ready to let go?

Why is he trying to give you hope over a future, a dream, a wish you never thought would come true? That they, indirectly or not, made you believe would never be made into a reality? No matter how much you did, and sacrificed for them behind the scenes? Was he trying to trick you? Did he really believe that you’d allow yourself to become blind again? That you could actually take the little words that he’s saying to you at face value, after all this time? After all of your wasted effort?

Did he really think that he could salvage what little remained of your nonexistent relationship with him, with just a few words and soft smiles? That you would just suddenly be willing to let him back into your life, after you spent the last year or so just trying to make it so that once you left, you’d never have to turn back? After everything he and the others put you through?

You understood that they were busy. That protecting Gotham and Bludhaven were more important to them than you’d ever be. That they care more about their work and their own lives than they never will about anything you’d try to say to them - you understood that well. It was almost impossible not too with how long you’ve had to deal with it, and come to terms with everything over the few months you’ve given yourself to truly soak everything in and reflect. The one time you gave yourself a breather to process all that's happened over the years you wasted on them, and think about how you are going to move forward in your life. How you’re going to deal with the family moving forward, or if you’d ever bother to deal with them at all. Though, you're still in that process, and had yet to really think about what you’d do moving forward.

Yet, Dick just had to show up while you were in that process. He just had to show his face after so long, and do this to you. Torment you with his words, and cause further conflict inside of you that you don’t need. Causing more heartache and pain that you didn’t want, and yet he just had to keep going, he had to keep talking. He couldn’t just walk away again like he had all of those other times when you were fighting to spend time with him, to just mean something to him. Dick just had to show up, and lie to your face about this. He just had to finally notice you, and hurt you more.

“I’m… I’m just really glad I got to see you is all I’m trying to say, I guess. And that I missed you too, in all honesty.”

So he keeps going, it seems. He just has to say that, like you’d believe him. Like you’d truly think that he cared about you more than the criminals in Gotham did. Like he wasn’t just lying to your face in an attempt to try and hurt you more. To crush what little part of your heart you still had given to them, and destroy it entirely. 

Honestly, now it was like he's trying to get you to hate him. To rid of the memories where you used to look up to him, and really tried to see him as your older brother until the reality of it all crushed you. Until reality forced your eyes open, and made you realize the little you had, and the little he cared.

Your own anger was beginning to blind you, and your hatred grew within you - though you hardly found a part of yourself that cared anymore. 

Even if Dick’s words are true to him, they aren't to you, and that’s all you cared about. Since, as far as you know, they were never true until he suddenly felt bad, and this whole thing started.

However, you still try to remain civil. Just taking in a breath, and sighing before looking back at Dick. Exhaustion becoming more evident, anger and hatred beginning to bloom – but you manage to tuck it away for now. No matter how frustrated Dick makes you, you could keep your composer. You could keep yourself together, and by God would you try no matter how much you want to just get up and leave. No matter how much you want to think that he wasn’t worth the time or energy. At least, not anymore.

“Dick, just tell me why you’re here.” You say, getting straight to the point and seemingly completely ignoring what he said before. Not taking his words to heart, no matter how much they sting and add fuel to the flame growing in your chest. 

Dick looks at you confused, a little taken aback by your response, but just pushes it to the side. Only raising a brow, managing to keep up his smile, “What do you mean? I told you already, silly.” He chuckles a bit, his words already pinching at your skin.

“I’m here to see you.”

‘Bullshit.’ You immediately thought, but don’t say out loud. Not yet, anyway.

“It’s obvious that something’s going on, I mean- do you hear the sounds echoing throughout Gotham? Or, hell, how quiet it is besides said noises?” You ask, tone shifting with every word that spilled out of your mouth, undertone unclear, but Dick didn’t like it. “You don’t have to explain what’s going on, but please, just tell me how or if I can help so that we can both go on with our nights? I know you don’t have time for this. Both of us don’t.” 

Dick can only furrow his brows in response, his confusion growing the more you spoke, but also worried about the tone you’re using with him. A tone that was growing increasingly harsh.

“What are you talking about? I never said I needed your help with anything, and didn’t I already mention that the others are handling the situation?” Dick said, genuinely confused, and yet that only seems to make the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Then what are you doing here? Why are we even talking right now if you don’t need anything from me?” You ask, voice rising in volume a bit before you bring it back down. The little stings Dick’s words left on your skin turning into a grip around your heart. 

“I’ve already told you, Y/n…. I just wanted to see you.” Dick said again, growing a little more worried now.

“Yes, but why? What made you want to see me so badly that you even went out of your way to find out where I live?” You couldn’t help but ask, frustration growing but so did your desperation. Over what, you don’t know, but all you knew was that you want this to be over. You want to go home. You want to be away from Dick. From them.

Even if your home probably wouldn’t feel as safe anymore now that they knew where it is, and you knew that too, but couldn't find it in yourself to care. Anywhere that wasn't in the immediate vicinity of Dick felt better than being here, with him at arm's length.

“I need a reason to see my younger sibling now? I can’t just come visit them?” Dick asks, still worried and confused, yes, but an odd tone of sarcasm seemed to develop under his tongue.

“After months of no contact? After all that’s happened?” You say as a meaningless, humorless laugh escapes you before your voice drops and cements itself, “Yes. Yes you do, because you’ve never visited me before. You’ve never gone out of your way like this, not even to see me in my own room. So why now? Why tonight? Why come see me?”

Your words stung Dick, and you can tell with how he flinches a bit at your words, if only for a brief moment. He even cringes a little, as if they have physically hurt him, but you didn’t react much. You want to know why, because it made no sense to you, and by God did you deserve an answer.

There is no reason why he should’ve come to see you, none. You aren’t related to him, and even if you are by law, he’s never treated you like family in the past - just someone else who lives in the manor, but over time you began to believe that he started to forget that too, with how he’d grow increasingly surprised by seeing you in person when he'd occasionally visit.

You meant nothing to him, last you checked. So what was so important that he and the others needed to find out where you live, and seek you out like this? What was going on?

From how you look at Dick, he can tell you wanted to know. That you want a ‘real’ answer, one that you’d accept, anyway. Along with the fact that you aren’t going to take your words back, finding them to be nothing less than true, and even if they are, they don’t hurt any less. Especially considering how far he’s come today. How much he’s seen, and how his view is beginning to change. How you were growing on him without even knowing it, making him realize that some of it isn’t even you to begin with. Though there wasn’t much he could do about that, not right now. Not with you getting worked up like this, and not with how he's beginning to hurt too.

The truth hurt, it almost always did. Never sparing anyone, and almost acting as a sword rather than weight. A dagger than another page, but paper cuts did exist for a reason – he supposes.

“I.. I know that it might seem hard to believe, considering everything, but that really is all there is to it.” Dick says, trying to explain as he clutches onto the coffee cup in his hands, “I just want to see you because I was worried, and I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”

“Then what about the others? Why find out where I live? What’s with all the noise?” Your desperation was becoming a little clearer as you spoke quickly, the questions falling out of your mouth as your heart began to squeeze tightly. The smoke that the fire in your chest was creating, started to reach and fill your lungs little by little with each passing second.

“The others are busy taking care of the city, and how else am I supposed to see you? You weren’t answering any of my or Tim’s calls or texts. We…” Dick drags on a little before just sighing, looking dejected, “I was worried about you- I am worried about you. I thought something happened, and I had to know if something did. Is that so wrong? Can I not check on my younger siblings anymore?”

“That's not what I meant, and you know that.” You point out straight away, but did falter the slightest bit when he mentions how you were ignoring them trying to contact you earlier. However, you didn't back down. “And both of you just started contacting me today. I didn't have any time to answer either of you before you showed up at my door.”

“Really? You had absolutely no time at all to pick up the phone? Not even send a quick message, or even read our texts?”

“I was busy? And was doing something else, so I couldn't get to the phone right away.”

“For several hours? Y/n, you've got to be kidding me.” Dick chuckles out, obviously not believing you, which ticks you off even more.

“What, so I can't do other things? I have to be at your every beck and call, now?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “None of you have ever contacted me first, so I'm sorry that I didn't have any time to respond to whatever you both had to say. I have my own life to deal with, you do know that, right?”

“That's not what I-” Dick cuts himself off, just letting out a sigh before speaking again after thinking over how to reword what he wants to say, “Look, just- what was so important that made it so you couldn't answer the phone?” He asks instead, searching your expression for something, and furrowing his brows when he couldn't find it.

“... That's none of your business.” You answer instead, narrowing your eyes at him a little. Whatever you did in your life, he didn't have to know. He doesn't have the right to know, not anymore. You may have been willing to offer him this one chance to ask something from you to help with whatever is going on, but that was all, and where your generosity ended. It wasn't a chance to reconnect, or to rebuild what never was, and still isn't. 

If there's anything that this whole situation has told you, it's that you shouldn't have tried in the first place - and that maybe, just maybe, you should've left sooner. That was clear to you now. 

“...” It's like Dick could tell things were getting worse this way. He didn't know what was causing it or how, but he could feel it. Especially with how you were growing increasingly upset, and how he was as well. 

So, he tried to settle down a little and just took a breath. At this rate, he could only dread how things would get, and so he at least tried to change the direction of things a bit. Yet, he still couldn't help himself either. Maybe he didn't deserve to know, but he did want to ask. 

“Look, just-” he tries to find the words to say, to not make this whole thing worse than it already is, and settles on a simpler question. One he figures you can handle, one he hopes does what he wants it to do. “Can you at least tell me why you keep ignoring me when I say that I'm here to see you? Or at least why you just… brush it off?” Dick manages to say, eyes never once leaving you, but for a different reason this time.

He just wants you to open up, but how could you do that when he kept you out for so long? When he locked that door so long ago, and forgot where he left the key? Leaving him to never know of the chair you left right under the handle.

“... What do you-”

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/n, just… please.” Dick almost pleads, which makes you uncomfortable. Causing you to press your lips into a thin line once again, “I don't want this to…” he doesn't want to say it outloud. He couldn't bring himself to. Especially when he doesn't want it to be true. To be made into reality.

“I just want to know, Y/n. So please, just tell me? Because I don't understand why you keep avoiding it, or just don't acknowledge it at all.” Dick says instead, which causes you to grow quiet in the process. 

“...”

You couldn't think of anything to say, just being able to look at him before glancing away and taking in a breath of your own. You couldn't bring yourself to answer the question because - what were you supposed to say? What are you supposed to say? The truth? Or make up a lie? Though even if you picked one or the other, would it be for yourself? Or for Dick?

You didn't know, and a special kind of uncertainty came with that, jabbing your gut and making the flame within you crackle harshly. You hate this. You hate this more than what their inaction did to you, and almost as much as the realization that it's because of them that you're in this position to begin with.

“Why do you think?” You begin, emotions and thoughts swarming in your head and squeezing your heart. You want to not care, to brush it all off as you have before, but only find yourself hurting despite everything. Why does your chest hurt so much? Why did it feel like something was pressing against it, threatening to pierce it? “Why do you think that I'm ‘ignoring’ it or just… dismiss it?”

Dick hates how you look away, and the swirl of emotion he saw in your eyes when you looked at him before. Which only made his own emotions grow like a heavy weight, threatening to fall on him. To crush him, and only leave the tiniest parts of himself behind. Parts that still hung onto that false hope he made himself.

He knew, or at least had an idea, but he ignored it. Dick wants to hear it from you, even if he doesn't know what he's hoping for with that. He knows of his faults, and yet not the entirety of them - at least, that was the impression he was getting from all of this.

He isn't blind, but there are only so many things he could let himself see before the ugliness of it all rears its head at him, and snarls. Before the quiet part that he refuses to glance at, becomes loud.

“I… I don't know,” Dick manages to say after a moment, still looking at you as he searches for something, anything that will point things in a different direction. Something that will give the little hope he has anything to cling on to.

Something he doesn't find.

He takes in another breath, “Can you please just… tell me? I do want to know, I really do- so just, please. Tell me why you keep ignoring what I'm saying?”

“I'm not-” You cut yourself off, speaking before you could come up with a response, the words tumbling out of your mouth quickly before you caught yourself and take in a slow, uneven breath. “I'm not ignoring what you're saying. I'm not, but- just…” You drag on before finally letting out a sigh. Some of the tension freeing itself from your body, but not enough for it to let you truly calm down or relax. 

“What do you expect me to do? To say?” You finally manage to voice it outloud, to ask as you look back at Dick briefly. With the moon trying its hardest to peek through the clouds as they begin to fill and crowd the sky. “You haven't checked up on me in all the years I was in the manor, and, hell, I doubt you even know where my room is-”

“I know where it is.”

“- and even if you do, that doesn't change what happened. Or, really, what didn't.” You narrow your eyes at Dick's sudden words, but don't comment on them as you continue, voice wavering slightly, “You've… never checked up on me before, or even asked me if I was okay- we barely even greeted each other, and I didn't see you around all that often. I didn't get to. So I'm sorry if it's hard for me to believe that you just suddenly care, or want to check up on me after all this time.” You say, still biting your tongue and holding yourself back from sharing more than you should. From giving more than you already have.

“...” Dick's lips press into a thin line before he goes to speak again, “I understand that, but… why can't that change now? Why can't I care about you now?” 

“It isn't about what you can and can't do, Dick. Nor what can be changed now or not, it's…” A quick, small groan escapes you as you try to gather the words you want to say, and finally let them out when you do, “it's what I'm used to, Dick. That's just how it is.”

Finally, dread made its way into Dick’s heart as well, “So… that's it? You're just ‘used to it’? And I can't change that?”

“I don’t know, can you?” You asked sarcastically in a dead tone, already tired of all of this, and yet the fire in your chest continues to burn ever so brightly. “You haven’t really done a good job of that thus far, if that's what you’re trying to do. I’ll say that much.” Your words hurt, you could tell right away. The way he looked at you said everything, but you didn’t try to look deeper than what presented itself on the surface. 

“This isn’t some kind of…. ‘reconnecting session’, stuff like that doesn’t really matter. I thought something serious- something important was going on, or had happened, that’s why I bothered with… all of this.” You point out and explain, only watching as the expression on Dick’s face morphed into something else. Something you couldn’t decipher, but didn’t like looking at. A face that made your stomach twist, with dread pouring out of every crevasse it could manage.

“And why would you think that? I don’t remember saying anything that would hint at that, and even then I would’ve said it outright.”

“You suddenly appeared at my door in the suit, and at some point was banging on it. How could I not think something was going on? Or that you didn’t need something from me? That something serious wasn’t happening? Especially when I don’t remember telling any of you where I live-”

“Okay, okay. I… I get it,” He didn’t, at least maybe not to the extent one would hope he would, but he didn’t want to argue. Not here, and not with you. Especially not when he was really beginning to see you. “But still… I want to change that. I want to make it up to you and fix things. Is that so bad?”

“...” You had no response to that, but even if you did, what could you say? You had imagined countless instances like this, but those situations weren’t real — this one was. In those scenarios, you always had something to say, rather it be good or bad, and you always knew what to do. Yet here, now that it was actually happening, you had nothing. You didn’t know what to do or say, and even if you did have some things you wanted to just let spill out, you kept them in. You didn’t want things to get worse either, but the more Dick talked, the harder that became.

Why couldn’t he just be the person from your thoughts and dreams? The person you always saw him as until now?

“I just…” Dick tries to gather his thoughts, not exactly liking your silence but trying to push on anyway. He finally had a chance, and he’d be damned to not take it. “I want to make things right, and yeah, maybe it's late- really, um, late, but I still want to try.” He manages to say, taking a small, quick breath before he continues, an easy smile trying to settle on his face.

“You deserve better, and I want to be better for you. Things may not be the same, and sure, it might be a bit awkward-” He chuckles slightly in between his words, “-but I think that we can… work it out if you just give it a try. Give me a chance-”

“But I did.” You manage to say, cutting Dick off. He has to fight for his smile to not falter immediately, unaware of how your heart pounded harshly in your chest, the fire it held growing and clawing at the bars of its cage that was your ribs and flesh. Scorching your lungs, and the smoke causing your throat to close, making it harder to breathe.

“... What?” Dick said, partially confused but still trying to at least seem optimistic. A weight of its own beginning to press down on him.

“... What do you think I did all of this time?” You ask, looking away for a moment, glancing up at the covered moon before looking back at Dick, “What do you think I did all of those years I spent at the manor? Before I decided to move out, and be on my own?” 

“...” Dick didn’t have an answer, not one he said right away, anyway. Not one that wouldn’t make him look bad, but he didn’t know what was worse. Staying quiet when he knew a part of it, or saying the part he knew and risk being wrong, revealing how he still didn’t know the full picture despite everything. Despite getting a glance into a life he knew he wasn’t involved in, and feeling more guilty all the while.

However, you decide that his small bit of silence was enough of an answer, and just as Dick opened his mouth to say something, you spoke again. “Most of my time in the manor I’ve spent trying to give you chances- to give the others a chance. Trying to give opportunities to just do something, try anything, and… well,” You look away fully this time, caressing the coffee cup in your hand, it’s dying warm doing little to help you, causing you to draw your attention to the shaded greenery of the park instead.

“We both know how that turned out.”

If your words didn’t hurt him before, they definitely did now. Even as Dick fought to keep that smile of his up, it was pointless. You were right, and he knew that. Even if he didn’t know the true extent of your words, he was at least aware of the times where you’d try to get them to see you perform, to hear your songs and listen to your music that had gotten you this far. He knew that much, and yet he still couldn’t help but try. He wants to mean more to you, to do what he hasn’t done up until this point, to truly be your older brother, to be your family - despite how long he’s been unable to do that.

“I… I know, and I’m sorry.” Dick could only say that much, even if it did little in the long run, and a part of himself could tell that his words only made whatever you were feeling worse as you inched away from him, the sight of the small action breaking his heart even more.

“Maybe that doesn’t mean much, but it’s true. I’m just… sorry that things turned out this way. That we- that I never noticed how hard you were trying until now, and even if it is late, I want to be honest and say that I’m sorry.” He adds, finally managing to look away as well as he looked down at the cup in his hands, thoughts swarming and eating away at his heart. Even if they were going too fast for him to process them all, they hurt him all the same and caused his worry to grow. “I’m sorry for everything, for never noticing what was going on or the extent of it, or appreciating the effort you tried to put in for our attention, for just not… being around. You deserve better- and I want to give that. I want to give you want you deserve and finally be-”

“Stop.” You said under your breath, voice wavering as you take in a shaky breath. Yet, even as it falls upon deaf ears, and Dick couldn’t make out exactly what you said, he still pauses for a moment before speaking again.

“... I just want to fix things, Y/n.” Dick says instead, but it doesn’t make you feel any better, nothing does. 

“You mean a lot to me.” You just want him to stop. 

“And maybe that’s… weird to hear with everything that’s happened. But it is true, and I’m sorry I never made that clear before.” You want him to stop lying to you, to stop trying to make you feel better. You’ve been doing fine on your own without him, without them, and so the only thing you wanted now was for Dick to stop and leave. To act like he had before, and go back to ignoring you.

“So… let’s change that, okay? I… I want to spend more time with you.” You want him to shut up. You want it so bad that it hurts to hear him talk as he goes on and on. His voice ringing in your ears to a point you’re convinced that they’ll bleed if this continues on for any longer. If he continues to talk for any longer. 

“I’m being honest, I really want to try and be your-”

“Stop… please, just- just stop.” You manage to say, voice small and wavering as you try to take in another breath. You want to be unbothered, unhurt, painless, and numb, but you can’t and you don’t know why. You thought you had gotten used to this, and you had, but to hear that - to hear the words you’ve wanted to hear for so many years - that hurt more than anything else. The pain was indescribable, and its result only made that fire grow, the flames scratching at your chest even harder, and your heart bleeding as a result.

Suddenly, all the progress you’ve made over all the months you’ve been away feel useless now. Reduced to nothing in Dick’s presence as his words stripped down your walls in the most violent, volatile ways possible.

Once upon a time, you fought to have a single conversation with him that lasted more than just a few short exchanges, and now you’d do anything to have that back. For him to go back to the Dick you grew up with, the one you fought to even have to look at you for more than a few seconds.

“You can’t do this to me.” You said without thinking, voice weak and shaky as you scramble to keep yourself together, to hold back tears that you refuse to spill – refusing to shed any more over them. Refusing to let all of your progress go to waste just like that.

You were happy, you have been happy these past few months, and you refuse for that to be taken away from you.

“What? Y/n, what do you mean-” Dick tries to speak, but you don’t give him the luxury, not after this. Not after what he’s been doing to you.

“You can’t do this to me,” You repeat, trying to breathe and fight past the smoke building in your lungs, nearly gasping for air as your teeth begin to grind, “you can’t- you just can’t. So stop… please just..” You try to take in another breath, no matter how small it is or strangled it feels.

“Just. Stop.”

“...” It’s like no matter what Dick tries to do, things end up becoming worse, and he hates that he doesn’t know why. He can't understand why. 

Clearly he’s hurting you, he could see that no matter how much he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying that’s hurting you. He doesn’t know what he’s doing that’s causing you to become so upset. 

After all, don’t you want this? Don’t you want him to try? For your efforts to be reciprocated? Don’t you want to be family too? For him to try and be what he’s supposed to have been all of this time? Don’t you want him to try and be your big brother? 

You couldn’t have given up yet, right? There was no way you could have. You couldn’t have given up after all you have done, after all the awards and such he saw that you’ve earned over the years – awards that were still in your room. You couldn’t have given up. That's impossible, there’s no way. No one would throw all of that away, right? No one would do all that you have, only to just put it all behind them - not anyone that Dick could think of at the moment.

… He hated how he thought of it anyway. How the thought creeped into his mind, and remained there. Letting his dread and worry grow as reality began to sneak its way into his brain. 

Dick doesn’t want to think about it – let along consider the idea, but this isn’t about him. This isn’t about what he thinks or feels.

This is about you, and despite his words, he hates that he had forgotten that already.

“Y/n,” He calls out to you softly, really trying this time, and you hate that detail with all of your heart, “can you just please tell me what’s wrong?” Dick’s words make you physically pause, even causing your rushing thoughts to come to a halt. They repeat in your head once more, and you can only think one thing.

Is he seriously asking you that?

“I know that you’re upset, but I want to work through this with you. So, just tell me so I can help, okay-?”

“Stop- God, just please stop, Dick.” You manage to say, already getting slightly choked up before you manage to shakily exhale, trying your hardest to keep it together as your heart squeezes and your chest tightens. You can’t bring yourself to look at Dick, but your teeth grind as you scramble to keep the flames eating up your body from the inside, trapped and hidden away.

“You can’t do this to me,” You say more desperately than you wanted to, a few tears developing that you fight back violently to keep them from spilling, your own teeth getting crushed and feel as if they were beginning to chip and break with how hard they’re grinding against each other. “You can’t- you can’t-” You struggle to get the words out, nearly gasping for air as that sickening, thick smoke threatens to escape your lungs.

“You can’t do this to me, you can’t give me hope.” You finally say, voice straining as your breath trembles. When you finally do look at Dick, neither of your expressions are good ones. Both filled with mixes of emotions, but his was more deep and almost controlled, while yours was frantic and ever changing.

“... What?”

“After all of this time, after everything- everything I’ve been put through. Everything I’ve been trying to move on from-” You struggle to breathe momentarily, but manage to get yet another gasp of air before continuing, “you can’t just try and give me hope like that. You can’t. You just- can’t.”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to pause as he processes what you said, each word making the weight in his chest sink deeper and deeper until it reaches his stomach. The very thing he seems to dread is becoming more real with every minute that passes and he hates that more than anything. He wants to ignore it, to push past it, but how can he do that when it’s right in front of him? How can he do that when something worse could be laying underneath everything?

He doesn’t want to think about it, and so he doesn’t and tries to tuck it away as he goes on to say, “But… why? Why can’t I give that to you? Why can’t I try to help you?”

“Dick, please, for the love of god just-” You want to say it, you really do, but manage to hold yourself back with the little self control you have, and simply just take in the biggest breath you can manage, and sigh just as deeply. “Nevermind, and just- you know what? We’re… we’re done here.” You say instead. Placing your coffee cup on the bench, not even caring that you barely finished the drink, and move to stand up.

“What? Wait- what?” Dick asks, sitting up and tensing when you stand, but not making a move just yet, even if it was clear that he’d do something. What, you don’t know, but you didn’t notice anyway as you were too focused on yourself and getting out of this situation.

“We’re done here, what else do I have to say?” You don’t look back at Dick, instead continue to try and steady your breath. Trying to calm yourself down, and finally do something to quell the burning flames inside your chest, “This isn’t going anywhere, and we aren’t discussing anything important, so… let’s call it here. I’m leaving.” You say outright, being blunt this time as you make a move to step away-

Only to be stopped when Dick suddenly grabs your wrist, his grasp a touch too tight.

“Hold on- who said you get to decide that?” Dick asks, having sprung up to grab you as swiftly and quickly as he did, a flash of panic showing on his face before he pushed it aside and swallowed his nerves. He tries to manage another smile, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes yet again, “Let’s just talk about this, okay? There’s no need to overreact.”

“Overreact…?” You glance back at him, physically feeling as all of your previous progress to calm yourself was quickly diminishing, the fire only roaring to life at Dick’s words, and it’s like he could feel it too with how his smile faltered the smallest bit before he tried to pick it up again.

“Okay- maybe not overreact, but we can still talk about this… can’t we?” He says instead, as if realizing his mistake once you point it out. Scrambling for something, anything.

You don’t say anything right away, your chest only hurting even more, “And talk about what, exactly?” You ask, just barely being able to hear the clouds overhead groan in displeasure, “What is there to talk about? We have nothing to discuss, and so we should just end things here.”

An airy laugh escapes Dick, almost as he can’t believe what you’re saying, and yet he continues to stare at you. All he does is raise a brow, his heart pounding as that weight in his stomach drops further, “About… everything?” He says, as if a little unsure of how to word it, but keeps going anyway, “About the family, about us, about you- everything! What isn’t there to talk about?” He counters, furrowing his brows a little.

He knows you want to leave, but he can’t bring himself to let you go. Not when he doesn’t know when he’ll have this chance again. Not when he’s so close – but to what, he doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is that it deals with you, and that’s enough for him.

“... But there isn’t anything important to talk about.” You point out as if it was obvious, raising a brow of your own as you look back at Dick, ignoring how the longer Dick held onto your wrist, the heavier your dread became. Nearly making it impossible to breathe despite how you were trying to act now,  “Again, I even bothered to do any of this because I thought something was going on or that you needed something from me, and I turned out to be wrong, so there’s no other reason for me to be here.” You try to be logical, or seem that way, anyway. You try to give whatever bullshit reason you can, saying anything that you hope would just get Dick away from you and just let you go.

“...” Dick hated your words with a burning passion he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling, and the breathy laugh of disbelief that escaped him only furthered his own change of heart, “So I’m not important to you? Our family isn’t important to you? Because of everything that’s happened? So our effort to change everything isn’t important to you? It matters that little to you now that you’ve lived on your own for… what, a few months?”

“What are you talking about? You’re asking me that as if you know me, and- news flash, you don’t. So get a hold of yourself- and let me go already!” You yank your wrist away from Dick’s grasp, pulling it back towards you harshly.

The moment your wrist leaves his grasp, his hand twitches, but he manages to hold himself back and just let his hand fold into a fist as it falls back to his side. His eyes pinned on you once again, never leaving you, “Why can’t I get to know you now? Why can’t that change, Y/n?” He asks, his own tone changing without him noticing, making it sharper than he meant it to be, “Why can’t you just let me in?”

The visceral hatred those words spawn in you is hotter than words can describe, and felt as if it was burning right through your chest, melting your muscles and organs down to nothing. You not only struggled to breathe, but it hurt to even take in the smallest breath. “‘Why’…? You’re asking me, ‘why’?” A small, airy, pathetic laugh escapes you, a look of disbelief clear on your face.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because of the years that have passed? That every attempt I’ve made to do what you’re asking me right now- was ignored until I didn’t try anymore? Until I go off and try to actually live my life, that you ask for me to let you in? For things to change?” You almost spat out, barely managing to take in a steady breath, “I don’t know, Dick. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Dick could barely pull himself together. Everything was falling apart, and even if he could see that, he could barely get a grasp on his own emotions that he was failing to calm down. He wants you to understand, and he wants to understand you too, but god was everything making it so hard. He just couldn’t understand why you were being so stubborn about this, and why you wouldn’t just hear him out. 

So, in the midst of his own frustration, he tsked and spoke without thinking.

“I haven’t done anything to you! Why are you acting like this?” The moment those words left Dick, his eyes widened and he scrambled to recover, “Wait, I didn’t mean-”

“Isn’t that the point?” You cut Dick off, the smoke finally escaping your lungs as you furrowed your brows, chest tightening as more unwanted tears began to build, “That you did nothing? That you- and everyone else didn’t do a goddamn thing?”

“You try to act like I owe you something. Like I owe you this. Like I owe you my time, but you know what? You really don’t, because back then? I clearly didn’t deserve yours. I wasn’t worth your time, and now, years later, you think that I owe you mine? That you can just say whatever the hell you want to my face, because I dared to try and be respectful and civil and do all of this shit for you?” There was no holding back anymore, not when Dick dared to say something like that to your face when you’ve been trying so hard to act calm and civil around him. To give him a chance to say his piece and leave.

The one time you tried to do something for them, for him, after months of being away from all of them, and he dared to say something like that to you?

“Then think again. Because unlike before, I have some god damn self respect and won’t stand for your bullshit anymore.” You spat out as the sky above growled even louder, “You don’t get to say that to me, Grayson.”

Yet, despite your words, a single measly tear manages to slip past your defenses and slowly, painstakingly roll down your cheek. The clouds above seem to have taken that as some sort of sign, as a few small drops of water fell from the sky and hit the pavement under your feet.

Dick pauses after that, if only for a moment as he looks over your expression before sighing. “Okay- fine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that… but,” he took a short breath before saying, “that still doesn’t answer my question, Y/n.”

“...” All you could do was stare at him. Another pathetic, airy laugh escaping you all the while. He really was unbelievable.

“Which one? The one where you asked why things can’t change? Why I won’t ‘let you in’? Or why I’m ‘acting like this’?” Dick clenches his hands into fists, squeezing them before he lets go.

“Why can’t things change, why can’t the relationship between us change?” You hate the tone he used and how the look he gave you expressed and showed more than words could describe. A certain desperation in his eyes that you wish didn’t exist, that you didn’t notice.

“You never showed me that it could change. That it would always stay the same as it has for the past few years-”

“But why does back then matter? Why can’t we focus on now? On this?” He gestured between the two of you, “Can’t we just- I don’t know… move on from that?” You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh, or actually allow yourself to cry, especially when a few more raindrops fell from the sky. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Did Dick actually just say that, and to you of all people?

“Move on?” You say, a few more tears spilling despite your efforts to stop them, their touch burning your skin and sinking into it like acid, “You want me to move on from that? Move on from the years of my life that you weren’t a part of? To just forget all that’s happened?”

“You don’t have to forget… maybe just, push it aside so that we can work on this! On us…” Dick says, dragging on a little before he takes in another quick breath, “Is that so bad? Don’t you want to be family-?”

“You don’t get to say that to me.” You immediately cut him off the moment Dick even tries to mention family again, “You don’t get to say what I want or what I have to do- after everything I’ve done for you! For the others-! You don’t get to say that to me anymore!”

“Y/n, please, just calm down-”

“No! You don’t get to do this to me! To say all of this shit to my face-” You struggle to speak, your words catching in your throat and nearly choking you, but you manage to continue. To continue to say your part, and finally say the words your heart has been longing to say, to give yourself this much, to finally feel this out, “Do you even know how much I’ve done for you- all of you? How much time I spent doing all of these things I thought you guys liked just so that I had a chance to hold a conversation with any of you? To just mean something? To actually be part of the family, only for no one to show up-?”

“No one asked you to do those things! No one asked you to do anything!” Dick snaps, but immediately tries to reel it back, “I understand that things didn’t work out before, but I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Your brows furrow even more, and your teeth grind so hard that it feels like they’re chipping away, “No one had to ask! Hell- none of you ended up caring anyway! It was a waste!” You shout, voice raising the more you talked, tears mixing with the drizzling rain, “It was for you- I did everything I could think of to just talk to you, and now you want me to do more for you? After everything I’ve already done? After all the effort that was put to waste because of you?” At this rate, you knew you weren’t talking to just Dick anymore. Instead, he acted as an extension, in your mind. An extension to something bigger, something greater than himself. Something more than he was.

Dick falters, but just sighs again, “No one told you to do all of that,Y/n]. You didn’t have to do anything but just try to-”

“Try to what, Grayson? Try to what?” You cut him off, eyes swirling with untold emotion as your gaze pierces into him, “Go on, tell me what else I had to do. What I should’ve done.”

“...” Dick looks at you for a moment before speaking again with a small huff, “You could’ve tried a different approach, or maybe, talked to us?”

“...” You don’t know what you want to do more; try to strangle Dick, cry harder, or leave again after trying to kill him. “You did not just say that.” You manage to laugh out, but it’s broken and far from genuine. The humor in it long gone, and all that was left was a sickening, uncomfortable emptiness where it once remained. 

“Well, I’m just saying-”

“You did not just say that shit to me when you’ve been the one shooting down every conversation I’ve tried to have with you. You- the person who’s supposed to be the ‘family man’, and we’ve barely even talked. And let me tell you now, I’m not the one who hasn’t been trying to talk or avoiding it.” A pained smile crept up your face as you laughed breathlessly in between your words once more. Not even caring anymore as you let the fire burst from your chest, and have its ashes and smoke spill out of you.

Dick narrows his eyes and furrows his brows a bit, “‘Avoiding it’? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been avoiding you-”

“Then please explain where the hell you’ve been all of my life until now? Why you could never follow through with what you’d always tell me? Why you come to me now, when I gave you years to do or say anything?”

“I… I was busy, okay? You know that,” He tried to lighten his tone with a chuckle but it did little to help, and only showed his own strain, “I don’t always have time to come to Gotham-”

“But you make the time to do it anyway. You make time to visit, especially when it comes to Damian.” When Dick falls silent again for a moment, you take in a shaky breath and sniffle slightly, feeling awful in every sense of the word, “I guess I just wasn’t worth it, right? I wasn’t worthy of your oh so precious time, but everyone else was. Something else was.” Your expression darkens slightly as your strained smile drops completely.

“There’s always something else, right? Something else to do, someone else to see. You could make time, alright, but just couldn’t for me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Y/n.”

“Then please, enlighten me, what are you saying, Grayson?” Dick hates every time you say that, every time you refer to him by his last name. It feels like there's a deeper meaning to it that he refuses to see, and just hearing you call him that instead of anything else only forces him to remember that. To remind him of his own faults, both past and present.

Maybe he'd wonder how he keeps messing things up or why he keeps saying everything besides what he actually wants to say, but he's too deep in his own feelings to even think about that. Even if the answer laid within the action itself.

“Saving the city- having to look after Bludhaven and Gotham sometimes, and even the world on occasion- doesn't really give anyone a lot of time to do certain things. You know I'm not over all the time, and that I'm not always… y'know.”

“Dick Grayson?”

“Yeah! And just…” he took a breath before sighing once again, “All I'm saying is that a different approach could've been taken.” You hate how every word he said only seemed to validate concerns you had in the past. Thoughts that still liked to linger every now and then when you caught yourself still thinking about what could've been, and if certain things happened, would that really change anything?

It's funny that only now were you truly beginning to think otherwise.

“So… what?” You say in a dry voice, “Are you saying that I should’ve been just like you? Just like the others- and give up my dream, what I wanted to do- give up my passion, because at least then I would be able to talk to you? Because I would have a higher chance of even seeing you?”

“That's not what I mean, Y/n, and you know that-”

“No. No I don't. I don't know that, and honestly? I have no idea what the hell you’re even trying to tell me right now besides that I should’ve tried harder. That I didn't do enough, because clearly- spending all of my time trying to do things for you, to accommodate for the whole fucking family that couldn't even stand for me to be in their presence for even a few seconds-” You took a shaky breath, more tears spilling out and escaping you, more falling than you would've liked, “that's not enough. Wasting my life away and trying to do everything I could to the point where it put my health at risk- that wasn't enough. I should’ve just dropped everything and followed everyone else instead of trying to find an alternative, because there was no alternative, right? Is that what you're trying to say?”

For once, Dick was speechless and had nothing to say, and his silence only made you hurt more. It's like you were waiting for what felt like the inevitable.

“What else am I supposed to do, huh? What else haven't I done? Is nothing else good enough for you? Is that really the only way I could've been with you? To see you, to actually talk with you and all the others? To be part of the family? Is that what it would've taken?” You're nearly gasping for air at this rate, with every word you say only carving deeper into your heart, and getting harder to say as you struggle to voice them aloud. Nearly choking on both your words and tears, and yet you push on.

“Did I really have to give up on my passion- my dreams to have a better chance to be something to you?”

“Y/n, that's not what I mean. Doing it wouldn't have gotten in the way-”

“You know that's bullshit! You act like the line of work you do doesn't take over your life! Like you don't think about it everyday- like you aren't constantly in danger!” At this point you're shouting and you barely even realize it, tears flowing freely now as they burn into your cheeks and crash down on the pavement below, “Is it so bad that I don't want that? That I don't want to put my life at risk? That I don't want to live your life?!”

“Maybe you enjoy that. Maybe you like that chaos and constantly putting your life on the line- but some people don't! Maybe you're made for that kind of life, but I'm not! I want to live my own life without having to be even more worried about my own well-being and safety!”

“Y/n, please- calm down! I don't want to fight, I-” Dick took a quick breath, his own heart squeezing as he tries to remain stable, to remain calm. Even if it felt like he was watching his whole world crumble before him, each tear you shed stabbing into him, and every word that spilled out just twisted the knives as they dug deeper into his chest and body. “I understand what you mean, but you have to realize-”

“Realize what? That everything I did was for nothing?” Thinking it was one thing, but saying it out loud was another. The words weighed heavy on your tongue, and the more you tried to say them the more choked up you became. “That all of my effort was in vain, and I should’ve given up while I was ahead? Because that's the impression I'm getting right now-”

“That's not what I meant, Y/n. I… I didn't mean it like that.”

“But how else could you have possibly meant it? How else am I supposed to interpret that?” You laughed again, but it was just as sad and pathetic as the last, “You can't expect me to just know these things, Grayson, especially considering everything and just-” You felt like you were going to tear your hair out, like you were going to collapse and truly break. Yet you managed to stand, and speak again no matter how weak your voice is.

“You were never there for me, none of you were.” Your hands are shaking and your face burns, voice cracking in every way possible, and you hate this feeling. Yet above all else, you hate how he made you feel like this, “I could show up at the manor, bloodied and bruised, and no one- no one would notice or bat an eye. I could be wearing a cast and have crutches, and yet not a single person besides Alfred would see it or comment on it. I could be at the hospital and no one would show up, not one of you-”

“Wait… what-?” Dick tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him, you couldn’t.

“You were never there when I needed you. You never checked up on me, you barely even noticed me-” again, you suck in another breath, barely able to take it in, “do you know what I’ve had to deal with on my own? How much it cost me? How much it hurt me-?”

“Wait, wait- hold on! You’ve been hurt?” Dick managed to cut you off, “I… I never heard about this.”

“Of course you haven't!” You couldn't help but laugh, more tears spilling and leaving scars on your face with how badly they burned into your skin, “You hardly even noticed, how can you expect to hear about it?”

“You didn't tell me- you didn't tell anyone! How- how am I supposed to know about these things when you won't even tell anyone? When you won't tell me?” Dick can feel himself begin to tear up, but he keeps it all down. He was frustrated, and even if it wasn't directed towards you, he couldn't keep his big mouth shut. Even if by the looks of things - you couldn't either, even if that was for a different reason.

Maybe you both were one in the same, but different in some ways. Dick would feel stupid if he noticed it, but of course he couldn't — not at the moment. Not with how things are going.

If only he noticed that sooner. If only he had done a lot of things sooner – then both of you wouldn't be in this position. You wouldn't be in this position.

Yet, he couldn't help himself. Both of you couldn't, in a way.

“I can't read your mind, Y/n! I'm not even at the manor half the time- how am I supposed to notice? You can't just expect me to suddenly know-”

“But you visit enough for the others? For any one of them you'd come rushing over, especially if it was for Damian-”

“At least he tells me when he gets hurt!”

“Are we talking about the same kid right now? God, and here I thought that he was your favorite.”

“‘Favorite’?” Dick chuckled out humorlessly, feeling something in him break at your words. “I don't have any favorites-”

“That is such bullshit, Grayson, and you fucking know that.” You couldn't help but sneer, everything you tried to keep inside finally rearing its ugly head as the lid you tried to put on your emotions flew off, leaving you feeling nothing but unapologetic rage. “You play favorites all the time, but I wouldn't know that, would I? I'm probably your least-”

“Don't say that. You're not. You never were.”

“Right! Yeah, you're right. After all, I'm not even on the list, am I? How can I be the least when you barely even acknowledge me-?”

“I didn't-” Dick just cuts himself off, sighing before he continues, not being able to stop the scoff that slips past, “I didn't mean it like that. You're important to me, Y/n, how many times do I have to say that? It's like you're trying to put words in my mouth at this rate.”

“Well, excuse me for not believing you considering that, oh, I don't know, I've been ignored by you for years? That-”

“‘Ignored’? I haven’t been ignoring you, no one has-”

“Really? Are you really trying to say that now-?”

“I understand that you're frustrated, okay? That you have all the reason to be mad- but no one has ignored you. I haven't ignored you-”

“BULLSHIT! That is bull-SHIT!” You scream before you even notice the words had left your mouth in the first place, “You would have said that before it that was the case! And even then- how the hell do you explain this entire shit show? How do you even dare to try and explain where the fuck ANY of you have been?! Because people can only be so ignorant and stupid until others begin to think it's intentional and you're doing it on god-damn purpose-!” Broken, harsh chuckles escape you - slipping in between your piercing words, ones so rough and dry that it scratches your throat just to let them out. The disbelief was heavy in each and every one of them, utterly devoid of any humor, and yet they were so unbelievably empty simultaneously.

You could feel your heart breaking even more, but you weren't the only one. Not that it mattered, as with each piece that was chipped off, you could only register the little sounds of you coming apart. Everything else was muffled, and almost completely blocked out. With your only focus being on him, on them.

“Just because something looks a certain way, doesn't mean that it's really like that. I told you, it isn't that easy. Like I said before- I haven't been avoiding you, let alone ignoring you! I wasn't trying to do anything like that-”

“It doesn't matter what you tried! What you're trying to do! Don't you see? What matters is what it felt like to me-”

“But you won’t let me change that! You won't let me try and change things- it’s like you want it to remain the same-!”

“YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT I WANT! NOT AFTER THIS- NOT AFTER EVERYTHING! You don’t get to say shit like that- you don't know me! You don't know what I've been through-! So stop talking like you understand me!”

“But you won't let me in! You won't give me the chance to understand! How can I expect to know anything when you're giving me nothing to work with?!”

“How about you take a fucking hint, Grayson. Can't you read the room?! You're a cop for crying out loud! And was trained by the best detective the world has to offer- so it's not my fault you're acting like you're stupid!”

“You're not another case, Y/n! You're family, you’re my sibling! Not something that needs to be solved! Is it really so hard to just tell me anything and not push me away when I'm right here?!”

Your words catch in your throat momentarily, but you try to push past that and force something out, not caring if it was made of broken glass or venom. Yet, just as you go to speak, and the first letter escapes your lips – Dick finally breaks too.

“SHUT UP! Just Shut. Up. And ACTUALLY listen to me for one second! Please! For the love of-” Dick can't help but scoff, running a hand down his face, and covering his mouth with it.  Looking away as he does so, brows furrowing. 

He wants to say something, think of anything that he wants you to hear and understand clearly - but nothing comes to mind. Nothing you'd truly hear him out on, anyway. Nothing he's already mentioned to you. Nothing that would make this better. Even as he goes to try and say something, all that comes out is a mess of half finished words that he can't make comprehensible, especially not in a way that'll have you listen to him where you won't try to bite at him again.

So, he falls silent. You both do.

Your eyes widening at the sudden shout, before your gaze hardens and you glare at Dick through your tears and agony. His silence makes you angrier, but his loud response does shut you up momentarily.

“Well– fine, if you want me to be quiet so badly, then I'm leaving.” You manage to say after a moment, voice wavering and becoming weaker — now spent thanks to how you've been using it up until this point.

Still, your words immediately snap Dick out of whatever trance he was in, and cause his head to snap back in your direction, with his eyes locking onto you once again – though they widen a little before he tries to calm down, and take in one last breath. He scrambles to say anything, especially as he sees you turn to leave, and see your words through.

“W-wait, hold on, I-” he presses his lips into a thin line, thinking briefly before continuing, “Can I at least walk you home? It isn't safe-”

You pause in your movements, “No. Just-” you don't look back, you can't bring yourself to, but you do just barely glance over your shoulder – though not enough to actually see him again. Dick can't see your eyes anymore, but he can still see the tears streaming down your face. “Just leave me alone. All of you.”

Dick tries to reach out, to stop you one last time – but he hesitates, and just lets his hand fall back to his side. Instead, opting to watch you leave while he stands there, left hurt and alone. His eyes eventually find and land on the coffee you had left behind on the bench, and he finds himself staring at that once you're out of sight.

He has to hold back from running after you, and following - if only to just make sure that you'd reach your apartment in one piece - but he manages. It's the least he could do, after all, and besides, he doubts he'd be able to do that without making you hate him even more. He's gathered as much from all of this, and really - from the looks of things, he had a lot more to consider than he had originally thought. All of them did.

… It's only as you walk away and the distance between you and Dick grows bigger, with both of your words beginning to settle - that you both notice the clouds once light cries have turned into ugly sobs, with each tear being shed heavier than the last, thunder roaring and echoing in the distance, lightning striking the earth with a deafening clap. It was only then that both of you even noticed that the light drizzle from before had turned into pouring rain, and that there was more than just the two of you in the world. Something that felt heavier than it should’ve, but felt appropriate at the same time.

Regardless, you continue to walk away, and once again, never look back as you commit to your decision no matter what may happen afterwards, or the consequences that may follow. Just like that one day back in the manor, you move on and go on with your choice, just knowing what you want in that moment and seeing no reason to deny yourself — especially when you want the same thing you wanted that night, when you just want to get away. You don’t know what happened tonight, but all you knew is that you didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, so you just left, and maybe you would’ve felt a little grateful that Dick let you go if you had noticed to begin with – since your mind was more focused on just putting as much distance between you and him as possible.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and it’s only then that you remember that you still had it on you – not that you knew why you’d leave it anywhere or forget it, but it’s something you noticed nonetheless. You fish it out of your pocket as you walk, and wipe some of your tears away with the back of your hand, sniffling lightly as you check the notification. Jessica had left you a voicemail – several, actually. You couldn’t imagine why, but you didn’t try very hard to think of a reason, and instead just opened your phone to listen to it.

[“Hey, hun’, it’s been a while, you okay? If you don’t call in the next twelve hours or so then I’m calling the police- even if most of them are useless as hell, I know more of them will look, since they know who you are and all that. But I swear if that asshole did anything to you then he’s got another thing coming, and I know you don’t like to fight, but please, for the love of god, just sucker punch that creep in the face if you have to. He looks like he could use one, and an extra hard one at that.” She takes a moment to sigh, clearly frustrated - which her tone made very clear - but you could sense a little worry, “But, seriously. Just get back to me when you can, and you better be safe, alright? Listen to my other voice message if you haven’t already, talk to you soon, bye.”]

Just hearing Jessica’s voice made you feel a bit better, and some of what she said got a little laugh out of you. She always tried to look after you, and with what just happened – you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

So, you did as told, and listened to the other voice message she had left you, curious as to what she had wanted you to know about.

[“Hey, it’s Jess, darlin’. I hope you’re not still with that guy, but if you are then just remember what I told you, okay? Well, anyway, Cece came by, and is waiting for you in the diner, and barely awake at that. So just come by and pick them up, since- well, I’d send ‘em home on their own but honestly I doubt they’d be able to make it there themselves. I’m a little surprised they were even able to reach this place- but you get the jist. Come by, but if you’re still with that guy? I can wait, just hurry up because a girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep. See you, bye.”]

… Oh, well, guess you had to make a stop on your way home, then. You wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and just sleep, but it’s not like the walk to the diner was long anyway, and besides, it was on the way back to your apartment, so you couldn’t really complain.

With that, you made a turn and headed towards the diner. Still processing and taking in everything as you do so — but when you feel more tears begin to well up, you push it to the side, and tell yourself that you’ll handle it later. No matter how short or long that interaction was, it drained you, and you desperately needed rest. Maybe it wasn’t the most healthy decision to make, but you couldn’t handle doing anything else right now, so it’d have to wait. Besides, with how tonight went, you definitely didn’t want to think about Dick and the others at the moment – they didn’t deserve it, anyway.

Thankfully, you reached the diner in no time, and it’s only when Jessica stops you at the door do you even realize that your soaked… which makes sense but you feel a little embarrassed when she points it out nonetheless, and says how she loves you but doesn’t want to have to clean the floor again when her shift has been over for about a half hour. Cece was sitting at the counter, and perks up when you enter, giving a sleepy smile before standing up and making their way over to you. Both of you thank Jessica as you take your leave – but not before you wish her a good night and say your usual goodbyes, even if she does make a point about how you and her will talk later. Hell, she even sneaks in how you almost looked like her after her breakup with Michael which… ouch, you can only imagine how awful you really look if that was the case – but it also only fully confirmed that you were talking to her about what happened no matter what.

Still, you were grateful that she left it at that, and didn’t pry anymore as she finally let you and Cece go home. The walk to the apartment – or, rather, the short run there – since you and Cece ended up sharing their jacket as cover from the rain, and they had a funny idea as you both held it over your heads, and… well, one thing led to another – and it's safe to say it turned out to be rather eventful. Ending with you and Cece laughing in front of your apartment building once you reached it, huddled in front of the small entrance – Cece ending up being partially soaked despite their best efforts, and of course, you’re beyond drenched.

Once you reach your shared home, Cece, despite barely being awake, basically shoves you into the shower once you're both a little more settled, and you just do as told – more than a little tired yourself in numerous ways, and definitely not in the mood to argue. When you’re clean and in a new set of clothes, you and Cece talk a little. They try to ask why you had been out, but you just say you ran into someone – though it wasn’t anyone important, and that it wasn’t something to worry about — with them just accepting that answer, much to your relief.

The rest of the evening becomes a bit of a blur after that, with you and Cece just talking some more here and there, sharing a few laughs that really helped brighten your mood and made you forget all about what had happened. The pain becomes dull, and that bright fire in your chest finally dies out - leaving behind a warmth that wasn’t burning or suffocating, but instead comforting and painless. One you welcomed graciously and with open arms as you felt yourself relax more and more.

Eventually, Cece turned in for the night, and as they headed back into their room, you did one last check of the apartment — making sure all the windows were not only locked, but that the curtains were closed. Going as far as to check the front door a few times just to make sure that it was really locked. Even if none of what you did would really stop any of them from getting in - it put your mind at ease a little, and really, that’s all you could hope for.

With that, you finally settled into bed, and fell asleep faster than you had in years.

For once, you hoped you’d never wake up as your worries and fears felt so far away, and reality was out of reach – even if it laid just beyond your closed eyelids. As much as you hoped for a better morning, more than anything, you hoped that you’d just sleep the week away if you could help it. God knows you needed the rest, or at least it felt like you did.

—----------

Dick had no such luxury.

The night became a blur after you had left, and he barely remembers even meeting up with the rest of the family once everything was said and done. He couldn’t tell how long he had been standing in that park all by himself, thinking of everything you had told him and looking at the little pieces of your existence that still remained behind.

All he knows is one thing led to another, and now he’s here – sitting on top of a roof with everyone else both simultaneously chastising him and trying to discuss what they should do now. Though Dick couldn’t bring himself to pay attention, since the events that had unfolded moments prior replayed in his mind like a broken record, torturing him slowly as his brain reminded him of all of the mistakes he’s made tonight. He can’t understand why he said half of what he did, especially because he didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean to blow up like he did – especially in front of you, and when you were clearly hurting and frustrated on top of that. The only thing Dick wanted to do in that moment was stop both of you from arguing, and it seems that his mouth ran off to do just that before he could think of a better way to do it. Now leaving him like this, and things worse off than they were before.

Point is, Dick felt like shit, and he knew he deserved it. Though the rest of the family definitely weren’t helping him out in that regard.

“How the hell did you even fuck this up, Dick?” Jason asks, his tone so heated it sounds like it could’ve come from the depths of hell itself – and all just to burn his older brother.

“I knew I should’ve gone instead, this would’ve never happened-” Tim can’t help but mumble to himself, arms crossed as he sighs, frustrated – but not completely at Dick. If there was a moment for him to really believe he should’ve kept your address and apartment number to himself, it was definitely now.

“Wait- so… what do we do now?” Stephanie asks, concerned over what happened, and that Dick hasn’t really said anything about it to them – even if all of them can tell it went poorly.

Damian just sighs, his arms crossed as well as he looks at Dick before looking to the others, “Take matters into our own hands, obviously.”

“While I agree that something should be done, is it really a good idea to act now?” Barbara pitches in, not entirely sure of what Damian was talking about, but not liking the implications of it all the same. Something about it just didn’t feel right to her, nor did the look he gave her.

“Of course. Now that they’re presumably heading to their apartment, we can just-” before Damian can finish what he was going to say, Cassandra covers his mouth, cutting him off swiftly which annoys the little Robin enough to shove her hand away and give her a scrutinizing look, “what?”

Cassandra just shakes her head, and instead begins to sign something, basically saying how they don’t know if you're even at your apartment, and by the time they find out where you actually are, it’ll probably be morning. Even mentioning how since you know that they know where you live, you probably wouldn’t even be there anymore. Which just causes Damian to huff in response. She had a point, and he knew it, but he wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

Still, despite that Jason spoke up again, “Actually, I agree with the little twerp. Now’s a good a time as any to get them home.”

“... You can't be serious, right?” Barbara asks, now getting a little concerned over what Jason meant as well, and the half-shrug he gave did little to reassure her or calm her nerves that were slowly beginning to rise.

“Why not? They’re still out there doing god knows what- who knows where in the dead of night,” he points out, giving Barbara a little glance, “it anything, I just see more of a reason to get them before anything else happens.”

“Jason, do you even hear yourself right now.”

“What? Is it a crime to be worried for my god damn family now?”

“Jason.” Bruce’s voice pierces through the air, cutting through the tension before anyone else can speak up or give their two cents. Almost as if just his voice alone was enough of a barrier between those who wanted to get you home, those that didn’t, and the few who didn’t know where they stood at the moment. 

Regardless, it’s enough for Jason to stand down, if only temporarily as Bruce turns to Dick – who’s still out of it, and staring at the ground just before his feet.

“Dick,” Bruce calls out, which only gets him a subtle glance, with Dick not even bothering to pick up his head – or maybe he just couldn’t, no one could tell except for the one person among them who was much too fluent in body language. “What do you think?” He asks simply, narrowing his eyes a little when his eldest son grows quieter somehow.

Dick fidgets with the coffee cup in his hands, its warmth long gone, and yet he still runs a finger or two along the side as if it was still there. He doesn’t know why he grabbed it, but now he almost couldn’t find it in himself to let it go. It was yours, after all, if only for a brief moment – and even if all it did was serve as a reminder of his faults, it reminded him of you, and right now? That’s all he could ask for. Dick can’t explain it, but it’s like by holding the cup and having it with him, he had a small part of you with him. Since, sure, while you had left it during your… ‘dispute’ with him, it had come from a place you liked and he could only assume that it was just how you liked your coffee. It was silly, but holding it made him feel close to you, and that’s all he wanted at the moment. To be close.

… It takes him a beat or two before he responds, and even then he seems unsure of himself – but remembering what had transpired minutes ago is enough to set his mind straight.

“I think… we should give them some time, and… a bit of space too for a while.” Dick manages to say hesitantly, tapping the cup lightly as he still holds onto it.

That seemed to quiet everyone down for a moment, until Stephanie eventually asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“Just how badly did things go, Dick?”

He couldn’t answer that, he didn’t want to, so he remained silent. However, Cassandra could tell, and found herself just as divided as she felt the moment she first saw him. She didn’t know what she wanted to do more – throw Dick off the roof, or go looking for you herself. Maybe she’d try to do both if Bruce wasn’t right there. 

“So, what? Do they hate us now or something?” Jason says sarcastically, but with how Dick tenses a little his tone turns harsher, “... You can’t be serious.”

“Dick- please tell me you didn’t screw things up that badly. Please tell me that you didn’t make things worse!” Tim almost begs, desperate to be wrong and hoping that his eldest brother hadn’t made things worse – that there was still a small chance.

Sure, they didn’t expect things to go great, but none of them really believed that they would go so horribly!

“Look, just-” Dick takes a short breath, looking at the cup in his hands in quiet defeat before glancing away, “I think we should give them some time to themself is all.”

Jason can only scoff as he crosses his arms, “I knew I should’ve gone instead, they would’ve been home right now.”

“I believe me and father would’ve handled the situation much better,” Damian states, as if it would lead to the only positive outcome should he and Bruce had gone instead.

“I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut and just gone over by myself- stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Tim curses under his breath, looking away as he continues to mumble to himself – expression growing increasingly darker and the air around him shifting into… something indescribable.

Cassandra seemed just about ready to rip something apart, and Stephanie was getting nervous from how the others seemed to be reacting, only able to stutter out a small, “G- guys? Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this right now-”

“I agree…” Barbara chips in, her own concerns only growing as she looks at the family, but tries to help Stephanie out nonetheless, “What’s done is done, and we should be trying to figure out what to do from here on out.”

Damian scoffs, “Right, like that will be easy with brother being silent about everything.” Dick could only look away in response, taking a small sip of the coffee in his hands, finding a little bit of comfort in its taste. It was cold, and wasn’t how he usually got his done – but it’s how you liked it, and that was enough from him to like it too.

A small argument seemed to spawn from that alone, with some now going back and forth yet again on what to do – Cassandra, Jason, and Damian pretty adamant about wanting to bring you home, with Barbara, Stephanie, and Dick more keen on waiting and giving you space — even if Dick was definitely more quiet about his stance, still thinking about… whatever was on his mind. Tim didn’t seem to engage much in the arguing either, and instead seemed to be dealing with his own thing as he kept mumbling to himself, leaving Bruce to be stuck listening to all of the nonsense until he finally got fed up with it.

“Quiet down, all of you.” He states firmly, voice cold and harsh as he shuts everyone up without even moving an inch. His eyes seemed to judge all of them as he looked at everything before sighing, and making the decision for everyone.

“We’ll give them time, and stand down for now.” He says, his tone alone indicating that there would be no arguing on this. What he said was final, and everyone would be smart to follow along with it, no matter where they stood. Still, he turned to look down at the city, and caught the faintest glimpse of your apartment building in the not-so-far distance. “but if anything happens, then we’ll act accordingly.”

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Growing up with a deatheater father doesn't teach you much about emotions, so when Theo finds himself developing an infatuation with a muggle-born, he thinks she gave him a love potion.

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!fem!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Warnings: jealous Harry

There is a 2nd part!! <3

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Unveiled Desires

It was strange to him. So strange how he went from mocking, annoying and occasionally bullying her every step she takes to secretly wanting her. Wanting to have her, or even needing her.

He didn't know how or when it happened, but one day he realized she was constantly in his head. It creeped up on him in small steps and eventually he had developed an infatuation for the girl.

Of course nobody knew about it, Theo wouldn't dare telling anyone. He just kept with his antics, hoping the obsession will somewhat disappear one day. Unfortunately, the more he tried to get rid of this feeling, the more he gave it power, the more it grew.

But he couldn't be with her. He couldn't be with a mudblood.

But he wanted to be with her. The more he thought about it, the less he cared about the blood status. He cursed at himself for these thoughts. Raised by a deatheater father, he would get disowned for dating anyone who wasn't a pureblood.

"Granger, can I talk to you for a second?" A question left his mouth as he approached the Golden Trio. Who was better to talk to about Y/n than her older sister?

The three Gryffindors looked at Theo as if he wasn't good in the head. Just casually wanting to have a chat, a normal chat, with someone outside of his social circle. Pretty unusual for a Slytherin.

"What is it?" Harry asked protectively.

"I was talking to Granger. I need to talk privately."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, exchanging suspecting glances. Eventually she spoke, "Alright, but make it quick."

"Great, let's go." Theo started walking, but Hermione stood in her place.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere they," he gestured to Harry and Ron, "aren't gonna eavesdrop."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest, a knowing expression on her face.

Theo raised his hands, "It's not a trap again, I swear."

The girl sighed and walked after her rival.

Hermione and Theodore weren't fond of each other not only because of their houses and their blood statuses, but also because they were academic rivals. Both of them were extremely competitive. Since first year they aspired to be better than one another in pretty much everything.

"Can we stop already?" The girl asked. "I'm pretty sure they won't ear us from here."

"Alright, alright." Theo agreed. "But I need you to promise me you won't tell anybody about it."

"Why me? Why would you trust a Gryffindor with keeping a secret for you?"

Theo lowered his voice to a whisper, "Because it's about your sister."

"What?!" Hermione's voice was the opposite of a whisper. "What have you done to her?!"

The boy gestured telling her to lower her voice. "No, I didn't do anything. She has done...something."

"What on Earth could that possibly be?" A little more quiet, but still unpleasantly surprised, she decided to listen to him.

One last time, Theo looked around to make sure there's nobody there who could be a witness to what he was about to say.

"She used some spell on me." He accused. "Or put something in my food, my drink."

Hermione scoffed with laughter. "You must be joking. You bully her for whole five years, but one time she pays you back for it, it's an issue?"

"Not like that." He took a second to gather his thoughts. "Granger, do you remember how we learnt about amortentia few weeks ago? I think Y/n gave it to me."

Hermione started at the boy for a moment and then burst out with laughter. Y/n wasn't the issue, there was no way a fifth year would be able to make amortentia. Not even Y/n Granger.

Theodore felt annoyed and offended by Hermione's reaction. He looked at her with disgust. "What is so funny to you about it, mu-, Granger?"

Noticing how he almost called her a slur, her expression immediately became serious. "Seriously? You know what, deal with it by yourself. I don't even know why you're telling me all of this."

"Why? Because you have to talk to her, tell her to do something about it! Tell her to stop it!"

Hermione got a brilliant idea.

"You know, I've heard professor Slughorn had a remedy for amortentia."

"Yeah, and I'll end up in the hospital wing like Weasley."

"It was poisoned mead, not the amortentia cure itself. You can ask him to make one from the ingredients in the classroom."

"I will," Theo scoffed, "look at you being useful for the first time in your life."

Without another word, Hermione walked away. "Boys..." She muttered to herself.

"Don't tell anyone I told you this!"

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"What?! He likes me?!" Y/n asked with blush on her face. "Theodore Nott likes me? The boy that has been bullying me for the past five years?"

"And the thinks it's because you gave him amortentia." Hermione giggled.

Y/n wouldn't ever think that he could be into her and the whole story that her sister had told her was simply unbelievable. But Hermione had no business in lying to her very own little sister, especially not about that.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

"Not yet, but I talked him into asking Slughorn for the cure! I suppose he'll do this tomorrow after class, as soon as possible."

"Who are you and what have you done to my sister?"

The girls were sitting alone in the common room and as Y/n laughed, Ron and Harry walked in.

"What are you two laughing about?" Harry asked, ready to hear that story.

"Can I tell them?" Hermione looked at Y/n. The younger Granger nodded. "Nott likes Y/n."

The girls and Ron laughed, meanwhile Harry stood there with his lips in a thin line, far away from laughing.

"The best part is," Hermione continued, "he thinks Y/n gave him amortentia!"

"What?" Harry spoke eventually, his voice a bit more surprised than it should be. "Y/n, did you give amortentia to Nott?"

"No, why would you accuse me of this?!" The youngest girl defended herself. "Is it that unbelievable that he can fancy me?"

"I mean... You're a muggleborn... And-"

"And what?! Does that mean I'm not worthy of that? We don't know him, maybe he doesn't believe in this whole blood purity thing."

"He does. That's why he hasn't asked you out. And he never will. Because they're all the same."

Y/n's eyes became a little glossy, the tears ready to start flowing anytime. "Are they, though? And you're saying this. You, whose godfather was Sirius Black."

"Sirius was different!"

"We don't know because we don't know what Theo is like!"

"Theo? It was Nott for the past few years that he was tormenting you," Harry put an emphasis on the word bullying, "now he fancies you and he becomes Theo?"

"I would actually give him a chance. It's not his fault that he was born into a blood purity obsessed family."

"Don't you think that's a little pathetic? Running into his hands the moment you find out he might fancy you meanwhile you had chances to date...other Gryffindors."

"Pathetic? You call me pathetic?"

"I didn't call you pathetic, I said what you do is-"

A sound of a slap filled the room, but the following silence spoke even louder. Y/n looked Harry in the eyes, a light red mark on his cheek that her hand left.

Harry could see and sense that it was too much, he said unnecessary words. He regretted them, but he just couldn't stop them from coming out.

The Golden Trio watched Y/n run upstairs. She was so glad nobody else was in the bedroom yet.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

"Excuse me, professor," Theo walked up to Slughorn after the class on the following day.

All the other students were slowly exiting the room, Harry's eyes fixed on the Slytherin standing by the teacher's desk.

"Yes, Theodore?" Slughorn asked. "Do you have some more bright insights you'd like to share with me?" He was clearly happy to have this conversation.

"I actually need help, professor."

The man's expression dropped. "Yes? Do you have a problem?"

"I'm worried that I've been given amortentia."

Slughorn's eyes widened. He was surprised or even shocked. "Are you sure? I remember seeing other people under the influence of several love potions and you don't quite match the criteria."

"There's this girl who I can't stop thinking about... I suspect she has given it to me."

"Who that might be?"

Theo waited until all the other students exit the classroom before he said the name.

"Y/n Granger."

Y/n stopped in her tracks just as he was about to enter the potions classroom. She was about to show the teacher a part of her project, wanting to consult the texts she has written. Instead, she stopped and decided to listen to the conversation.

"Ah, she's one of the best students in her year," Slughorn said proudly, "but I assure you - she wouldn't do that to you."

"How can you be sure, professor?"

"Well, could you describe your symptoms, Theodore?"

"Whatever I do, Y/n is on my mind," the boy admitted, "I can't eat, I can't sleep, I zone out thinking about her. It's not normal, I've never experienced it before."

The teacher gave his student a sympathetic smile. "My dear boy, you might be experiencing the actual feeling of being in love."

"What? And how could it have been caused? Was it a love potion, after all? Maybe a spell?"

"It's a part of muggle science, biology. The chemicals in your brain cause it and it's not something you can control. It happens when it happens. A truly beautiful feeling."

Theo's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied grimace. "Is there anything I can do about it?"

"You can talk to the girl about it, for example," Slughorn looked at the door and shouted, "come in, Y/n!"

Y/n cursed to herself in her thoughts. How could he know she was there?

The girl walked in shyly, holding a paper in her hands. "I wanted to show you my paper, professor," the girl spoke, "if there's anything you think I should change or... anything."

As the girl handed the paper to the teacher, she looked at Theo. They stood dangerously close to each other. The silence between the was so loud, Y/n was praying for the teacher to say something. Anything.

"Amazing, Mrs Granger," he spoke eventually, "although the Draught of Living Dead is an extremely difficult potion to make. I'm glad you're so ambitious, but I'd suggest you get help from someone more experienced."

"I'm pretty sure I can do it on my own." Y/n assured.

"Maybe Mr. Nott here could help you. The sixth year has been just learning about this potion, actually. Theodore, would you be so kind and help Mrs Granger?"

Suddenly, Theo's gaze somewhat softened. There was no more disgust in his eyes. When he stood so close to Y/n, he wondered why did he act the way he did. Why did he do all the mean things to her. Maybe he had always liked her, but didn't want to admit it, even to himself alone.

"Yes, sure," he said, "I can help."

Y/n felt happy. For some reason, she didn't dislike Theo for all the things he did. She secretly always liked him, he was attractive, and she would even sometimes daydream about the day he would finally talk to her like a normal person. Maybe the day has finally come.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 27 ~ Shower Sex

Logan Howlett x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Exhausted, Logan and you shower together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Both of you had a long day.

Practically dragging yourselves inside the home, exhausted, ready to relax. You having a trying day at work and Logan with a not so satisfying mission.

He didn't waste any time giving you a kiss in greeting before suggesting to shower together. To save on water. You barely mumbled a yes before you're making your way to the shower. Stripping off each other's clothes, making sure the water was at a decent temperature before getting in.

Logan holding your hand to make sure you don't fall. For a minute, the two of you stand there, warm water hitting your bodies. Already relaxing the tense muscles. Reflecting on the day. He wasn’t sure about yours, but his tested his patience. Not being able to grab the bad guy and ‘save the day’ as you always put it.

He grabs the washcloth, lathered with soap to wash you up first. Normally, you protest and make a comment about you being able to wash yourself. You don't say anything. You maneuver as Logan washes you down. Over your forehead and cheeks, from the nape to your collarbone. Along our arms and underarms. Across your breasts and abdomen before moving down to your legs and feet.

His brows lowered in concentration. The tiredness gone now as even when you're bone tired, you're still hot as fuck. He doesn’t make any moves when it's your turn to wash him. Your eyes also lowered while running the cloth over his skin. Logan played with the idea of leaving you alone for the night. Until you kiss his freshly cleaned face. Your lips touching the corner of his lips. He decided that your next kiss should be on his lips.

Logan pressed your body close to him while he's exploring your mouth. Sliding along your tongue, grazing your teeth, swallowing your quiet moans. All while fondling your ass. A grip your cheeks to tell you he's been needing you for a while, but everything's been in the way. The constant missions, you getting swamped, neither of you having the desire to spend time together because life was keeping you two busy. Logan wanted to change that.

He suckled on your neck, back facing the shower water. He dipped your body, giving himself more room to mark your skin. To show you how much he missed you. And the way your hands part his locks, pushing him to keep going showed him as well.

Logan's cock pressed against your stomach while you're holding on to him, placing small kisses to his bicep.

“Lo…” You moan, clutching on to his wet skin, “I've been on my feet all day.”

“I know, darlin’.” Logan picked you up, legs around his waist and pressing you against the shower tile. “Let me do all the work.”

He prodded your entrance while peppering kisses on your wet skin. When sinking inside, he groaned almost like he missed being in you. Your cunt already squeezing around him due to the cold wall, your back arching a little. Logan fingertips press deeper into your thighs. He's thrusting up into you, creating a slower rhythm. Unsure if fucking you like this will be the last intimate moment for a while due to your busy schedules.

Logan takes in your gentle sighs when he pulled out before pushing back in. Your cunt slippery just like your skin. He'll apologize later for any bruises on your skin. He just didn't want you to fall.

He's nose to nose with you while fucking you. Taking in your face covered in pleasure. Showing him you needed this as much as he did. Your breath mingling with his, whispering to not stop. He wasn't going to.

The shower water's temperature got cooler. It made you and him shiver. Your nipples brushing along his chest while he formed goosebumps. Logan kept going, each thrust a promise that you two were going to have the chance to do it again soon. When you weren't as tired.

“Mmh I'm…” You clutch on to his shoulder, lip curled up. “Baby I'm…”

“I got you, sugar.”

Logan held on to you during your climax. Your walls molding around him perfectly that he wasn't far behind. Grunting along your head, his seed coating your insides. Little thrusts to make sure it stayed in.

You solidified it with another embrace, so slow that none of you wished for it to be over.

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[impactrueno]

let's talk about shoes (stick with me here for a sec)

beetleboots beetleboots beetleboots.

what's up with the three of them wearing combat boots? they go well with each of their character designs so it's not like they look out of place with the rest of their outfits, but knowing this is tim burton and colleen atwood, these things are not mere coincidence.

(spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice below)

a common complaint i've seen people mention about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that "there's too many villains," but today i'm here to talk about why each of them matter in the narrative tim wanted to present here. yes the boots are related we'll get to that in a minute

delores, rory and jeremy all have one thing in common: the use of romantic betrayal in order to achieve their own selfish goals, destroying their victims in the process.

this, in turn, makes beetlejuice, lydia and astrid have another thing in common: they were the victims of these romantic betrayals.

you may think "okay but why is that necessary?"

this sequel made the interesting choice of nudging beetlejuice out of the villain role. he's now just a weird ally/deuteragonist...or perhaps even...a protagonist? but that's not enough! why should we as an audience care about him or sympathize with him?

that's where delores comes in. delores is less of a character and more of a plot device. her purpose (besides serving cunt) is to give beetlejuice backstory and be to beetlejuice what beetlejuice was to lydia, only worse. i talked a bit more about it in this post. thanks to her, we now learn that beetlejuice was a victim. not just that, she's also the looming threat beetlejuice needs to justify his marriage to lydia (he seems to be under the impression that this would help him escape delores more easily, but personally i'm not so sure, i think she's more powerful than that.) her return in combination with lydia's return to winter river is what sets his plan in motion.

rory is a pretty self-explanatory villain so i don't think we have to go into that. he wasn't out to kill lydia...but he's a golddigger, so i don't doubt he would've set something up to lead her into having a fatal accident and claim insurance benefits.

jeremy's role in the plot was to make astrid realize that she was wrong about the supernatural, as well as put her in danger in the afterlife, which is the drive lydia needs to turn to beetlejuice for help.

the role of an antagonist is to oppose or be an obstacle to the protagonist's goal. these three are the three obstacles beetlejuice needs to overcome in order to marry lydia.

first, he needs to save astrid as part of the deal with lydia. so he gets rid of jeremy to give astrid her life back. he knows exactly what it's like to be romanced into a death trap. you can tell this was satisfying for him. later, fucker.

then, he needs her fiancé rory out of the picture if he intends to marry lydia. since he knows this guy is a total piece of shit and is lying to her to lead her into the same trap he himself fell into with delores, he simply gives lydia the tools she needs to kick his ass herself. teamwork!

third comes delores. he just needs to survive delores, basically. he tries to pair her off with rory to try and kill two birds with one stone, but the stone that ends up killing them both is the sandworm that astrid summoned, which beetlejuice then guided straight to them. teamwork once again! (beetlejuice and astrid got rid of each other's problems, that's kind of cool)

these three things being taken care of means that beetlejuice can finally marry lydia.............

............except he doesn't. why? because he helped lydia. by bringing her into the afterlife to look for her daughter, he violated code 699. and he did it immediately after signing that contract. hoist by his own petard, this dumbass.

sorry i got sidetracked again. we were talking about boots, right? right right.

beetlejuice, lydia and astrid all walked in each other's shoes.

everything in this movie comes in threes. names, villains, victims, obstacles and pairs of combat boots.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Fifteen

— Little Big Aftermath [aka the end]

Series Masterlist

wc: 3k

we’ve made it to the end guys! I just have to say I never thought I’d complete this story and that too fifteen parts of it but to all those who read it and motivated me to keep writing, thank you. While it is the end of the official story, I will continue to take requests for blurbs on specific scenes you’d like to see. However, there won’t be a set posting date on these blurbs, it’ll be out whenever it’s requested and completed. Once again, thank you so much for those who were here since the first chapter, and here’s to more fic series in the future. P.S lemme know if you want to be tagged in the blurbs.

Your frown grew deeper as you turned in the direction your daughter had pointed, unfortunately spotting Tyler. Luckily, he wasn't looking at you two since he was focusing on the podium celebrations about to happen.

"I didn't know daddy was here, mama." Picking Isabella up, you shook your head, "I didn't know either, angel, but let's focus on Max for now okay?"

She gave a nod of agreement and applauded for the drivers, Oscar and Lando in particular, who finished second and third in the race. She did, however, cheer the loudest when Max, as he has done after almost every race this season, stepped onto the top step of the podium.

He was having trouble finding you and Isabella right away in the crowd, and you could see the slightest frown forming on his face until a smile emerged when he succeeded, connecting his gaze with yours.

Isabella giggled as Max held his hand up to wave at her before blowing a kiss in the air in your direction. His behaviour drew Lando and Oscar's attention to you as well, with the former driver rolling his eyes at Max jokingly and Oscar smiling at the interaction.

However, you didn't realize that someone else was also looking at you because your gaze didn't waver away from Max.

The champagne bottles were popped, and this time Isabella was awake to see it all, watching with fascination as it was the first time she was able to see it in person. "I wanna do that, mama," she pointed at the drivers spraying the alcoholic drink, soaking each other's race suits while laughing. "Maybe when you're older, Bella."

"When I'm 7?" She asked, and you chuckled, "a little more than that, sweetheart."

Once the celebrations were over, a huge part of the crowd dispersed, the teams resuming to their usual scheduled routines, preparing for post-race debriefs and other meetings. "Where's Maxy going?" Isabella asked, watching as he was led away by someone clad in a RedBull uniform.

"He's a little busy with interviews, but he told me that he'd come back as soon as he's done," you explained, knowing that Max had a post-race conference and a few other duties lined up.

Isabella huffed, "but he won the race." She rested her head on your shoulder for a moment while playing with a strand of your hair—the habit formed back when she was a few months old.

"Yeah he did, which means he's very famous right now and so many people want to talk to him," you explained and while she nodded in understanding, she still pouted, "I wanna talk to him too."

"Why don't we wait for him inside his driver's room?" You asked, turning around when she nodded.

You had almost reached Max's driver room—a place he had suggested for you and Isabella to stay to wait for him, but pausing in a secluded area as a familiar voice called out, "Isabella!" then heard your name as well. Isabella squirmed in your lap, wanting to get down after seeing Tyler walk up to you both. You sighed, knowing that you'd have to stop and chat.

"Tyler," you greeted, and awkwardness hung in the air for two seconds before Isabella decided to speak up. "Daddy, you said you were busy, what are you doing here?"

Despite her hesitance to stay at her father's place, which she still hasn't done since the day she was discharged from the hospital, she frequently spoke to him over the phone.

Unfortunately for him, Isabella rarely forgets promises. While he was busy playing the "good father" role after your ultimatum, he had make false promises, agreeing to everything she asked for without hearing her out properly. In that conversation, she asked about the promise he made of taking her to a race before she had met Max.

While you and Max had taken her once, she still wanted to experience the thrill with her father since he was the one who introduced the sport to her.

He glanced at you, silently asking if he did in fact claim that he was busy, and frowned when you nodded. "Oh Bella, sweetheart, I didn't know that I would have the time to be here, it was an unexpected decision or else I would've brought you along, but you're here anyways!" He tried to uplift her mood, but instead of hanging on to every word he spoke like she used to do, she just shrugged.

Deciding to divert the topic of conversation, Tyler asked, "did you enjoy the race?" He stepped forward, kneeling down to be closer to her but on instinct, Isabella moved away, clutching on to your hand tightly.

He frowned, once again glancing up at you after noticing her behaviour, but you didn't let an ounce of emotion show on your face. "I'm so happy Maxy won!" She exclaimed, her mood improving for a moment as she thought about him.

Standing up to his full height, Tyler looked at you, "why don't we sit and chat for a moment?" Pressing your lips together in a tight smile, you replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He scoffed, then shrugged, "fine, have it your way like always." You were not in the mood to indulge his stupid comments which would eventually lead to an argument, in fact you were here to enjoy the weekend with your boyfriend who you dearly missed in this moment.

His eyes widened briefly when you didn't respond to his comment, wondering how you changed so much in a matter of a few weeks that you couldn't care less about him anymore.

"Hey Bella, why don't you show daddy the caps that you got?" You prompted another topic, that Isabella quickly agreed to. Tyler's gaze remained on you for a moment, understanding that you truly had no intention on speaking to him longer than necessary. The conversations you did have were only necessary due to your daughter, but even those texts and calls started becoming less and less frequent.

Isabella took off her Red Bull cap, which had autographs from Max and Checo, to expose a Ferrari cap with two more signatures from Charles and Carlos, and then a McLaren cap that undoubtedly featured two signatures from Oscar and Lando. She caught up to Lando and Charles, who had given her their hats earlier, as well as their teammates, to obtain signatures. She then wanted to get autographs on her RedBull cap as well. When she asked Max and Checo, they chuckled with the latter claiming she had them all at her beck and call, but they nevertheless signed the cap.

Isabella ended up stacking all three caps on her head because she couldn't choose which one best matched with her outfit. She began explaining the story behind the signatures, and Tyler intently listened, asking a few questions in between as well.

"And then-" Isabella's gaze wandered off, eyes lighting up in excitement as she spotted, "-Maxy!"

Without any hesitation she ran up to him, colliding with him as she tried to wrap her arms around him, earning a low, "oof" from him.

Picking her up and settling her on his hip, holding her up with one arm, he held up his other hand that had a medal hanging from it. Max placed the medal around Isabella's neck, which he received on the podium earlier along with his trophy. "We won, princess," he commented, smiling as wide as she did.

She held both of her hands up, imitating the action Max did as he held his trophy on the podium, causing him to laugh. You watched the interaction with a smile on your face, and could hear their laughter from a few feet away.

Walking towards you as Max was initially planned on doing, he noticed a man next to you, which based on your descriptions was Tyler. He decided to overlook him for now, instead greeting you with a kiss to your cheek.

Tyler held his hand out, "great race, congratulations on the championship. I'm a huge fan by the way." Max, nodded politely, still holding Isabella in his arms but shaking his hand nonetheless. "Thank you," he prompted, waiting for the man to introduce himself to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, so you're Tyler." Max glanced at you for a moment, watching as you tried to hide your smile behind your hands because of his antics. "Why do you say it like it's a bad thing?" He questioned, and Max was quick to retort, "well, it's not really the best thing now is it?"

"I don't understand," he trailed off, and your boyfriend shrugged, "I figured you wouldn't understand, it's okay," he patted Tyler's shoulder in faux consolation. You had to take a step back so Tyler wouldn't see your expression, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

Tyler was quick to catch on to the condescending tone Max spoke with, looking at you—after you composed yourself fortunately. "So what, you get invited to one race and you guys are best friends now?" He asked, a hint of jealousy you were familiar with revealed in his tone.

"More like she's my girlfriend and they're here to support me," Max clarified. Tyler looked at Max, then Isabella, finally understanding why she was always so enamoured by him.

He scoffed, "oh great, enjoy my sloppy seconds then mate, I will warn you though, it's not worth it because a few months later she'll show you a positive pregnancy test and force you to be a father."

Your jaw dropped, instantly responding, "in front of my daughter?" You glanced at Isabella who was in fact hearing all the words spoken, only frowning due to yours and Max's expressions as she didn't understand the full context of the words her father had said, just knowing that it wasn't good.

Max wiped his hand over his mouth, jaw clenching while his warm gaze turned cold within seconds. "Apologize, now," he instructed, trying to hold himself back from causing a fight.

"Now why would I do that? It's true." Max placed Isabella back on her feet who quickly shuffled over to you, standing behind your legs. "How dare you stand here claiming to be my fan yet talk shit about the person I love?" The driver placed his hand on Tyler's shoulder again, but this time you could see the fear bubbling up in his eyes as his grip tightened.

Still, Tyler managed to scoff, "love? Bold claims there. Sorry to break it to you but she's probably just with you for your mon-" he couldn't finish his sentence because he was punched square in the jaw by your boyfriend.

"Max!" You shrieked, and watching the interaction, Isabella held on to your hands tightly with tears welling up in her eyes. You picked her up again, noticing that Tyler was fuming in anger. "Gonna fucking sue you for that," he spit out some blood, but Max only shrugged, "try me."

Fortunately, you guys were stood in between the team motorhomes, which meant you were slightly hidden away from public eye due to the buildings covering the scene.

Readying himself for another punch if needed, you shook your head, "it's not worth it, Max."

"Yeah Max, listen to your girlfriend," he taunted, angering you in the process. "Will you ever shut up?" You shot back. Max glanced at Isabella who had hid her face in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you. Although he couldn't see her face, he guessed that her eyes were tightly shut.

Nodding as a silent agreement with Max, you decided to walk away from the scene as you didn't want to expose Isabella to any more of this argument than what she has already heard. Glancing at Max once more, you hoped that your expression was indicating something along the lines of, "don't do anything too bad."

However, you could hear Max's words as he began speaking to Tyler, "listen here you little shit..." but you didn't stick around to hear the entire conversation, smiling to yourself knowing that Tyler would finally be put into his place—that too by his favourite driver.

Finally entering his driver's room, you sat down on the couch sighing in relief. Isabella was still in your lap and you ran your hand up and down her back in a soothing motion because you could feel her sniffling against you. "Bella," you murmured, wanting to see her adorable face.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, sweetheart." You kissed her head before brushing your hand through her hair. You heard her mumble but didn't catch her words, "what was that?"

She lifted her head to look at you, and you frowned seeing the tears staining her cheeks. "Why is daddy so mean? I don't like him."

"Some people are just mean for no reason, and unfortunately, your daddy is one of them," you explained, no longer covering for him knowing that after what Isabella witnessed, she wouldn't want to be near him no matter what you said.

She frowned but didn't respond, leaning her head against your shoulder again. You didn't disturb her peace, knowing that after the eventful day, she needed some quiet time.

Max entered the room a few minutes later, and he smiled to greet you but it fell flat. He pointed at Isabella, then put his thumbs up to silently ask if she was okay, but you shrugged.

"What did you say to him?" You asked, knowing that whatever conversation followed probably wasn't kind. "I told him that I'd ban him from future races if I saw him anywhere near you or Bella, and he left."

You knew that it probably wasn't that easily done, but you didn't ask for more details.

You had thought Isabella fell asleep since she hadn't moved in a while, nor could you see her face, but she lifted her head up to look at Max once she heard some shuffling about in the room.

He paused as soon as his gaze connected with hers, unsure of how to initiate a conversation because he did literally punch her father. Isabella wiggled off your lap, and both you and Max thought that she would walk away further into the room so her next action surprised you both. Running towards Max, she held her arms out, engulfing him in a hug.

"You're better than my dad, Maxy," she muttered, and he audibly sighed, the stress wrinkles on his face disappearing while wrapping his own arms around her smaller frame.

"Thank you, princess," he whispered back, and she pulled back to kiss his cheek. Isabella looked back at you, smiling when she saw you smile as well. "Thank you for taking care of my mama," your daughter told Max, and his heart warmed at her words. "Always."

The ring of your phone interrupted the beautiful sight in front of you, but your eyes widened when you saw that it was your mother calling. As soon as you pick it up, you're greeted by hearing your full name.

"Hi, mum," you stood up and walked further away just in case you were about to get a scolding although you had no idea what you could've possibly done. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"Tell you what?" You answered with a question of your own, knowing that she could be referring to anything at the moment. "That you have a boyfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, "how do you know that?" She chuckled, "because a friend of mine called me and told me that she just watched you kiss someone on live television, some racer guy."

Covering your mouth with your hand, you thought back to the moment Max kissed you in front of the huge crowd after getting out of his car, and of course there had to be cameras capturing the moment. "Max, he's a Formula 1 driver," you explained.

"Wait, the same Max that Bella talks about?" You hummed, "the same one."

"I'm glad you finally moved on from your daughter's father, but I'm also sad that you didn't tell me sooner and I looked foolish because I didn't know until my friend told me about it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think my relationship would be broadcasted live. Plus, I think the chapter with Tyler is finally over, for both me and Isabella."

"That's good to hear, she doesn't deserve a father like him. Is Max good to you?"

"He's the best to both of us, she lights up with joy every time she sees him." Your mother hummed as she heard your response, "then me and your father have to meet him one day."

You heard some laughter in the next room where Max and Isabella were, and you smiled at your mother's words, "I hope we can come by soon, I'd love to introduce him to you and dad."

After saying goodbyes and promises to meet soon, you returned to the room Max and Isabella were in, pausing in the doorway at the sight in front of you. Just like how Isabella was sitting in your lap earlier with her head against your shoulder, she did the same to Max.

You were about to make your presence known when you heard your daughter's question. "Maxy, why do you call me princess?"

Max's gaze found yours, always finding you whether you were standing in the corner of the room or in a crowd. "Because your mama is the queen," he responded casually, as if he was stating a fact.

Isabella lifted her head, "does that make you the king?" He shrugged, "I guess it does."

She giggled, "and does that mean we get a happily ever after like the storybooks?" Max reached his hand out towards you, asking you to join them which you obliged to easily.

"Ours is better than the storybooks," he stated, placing a kiss on Isabella's forehead before pecking your lips briefly.

The End.

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[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[talekinesis]

I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

[hard-core-super-star]

losing focus [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but many feelings; mommy + daddy kink; implied dom/sub dynamics; mentions of petplay; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; overstimulation; nipple play; so many petnames; wanda and nat being competitive; badly proofread

wordcount: 3.7k

a/n: hi again! so, i was originally supposed to post a bishova fic today buuuut i got too attached and wrote a part two of "push me on the counter, call me princess" because i could. i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It's difficult to define what your relationship with the witch and her grumpy assassin girlfriend has turned into. 

You know you're not really a part of their relationship, at least not officially, but you're not a mere observer either. Your main connection is with Wanda, which Natasha doesn't seem to mind, but the three of you are well aware of the way you simply started...joining them...all the time.

It started with small things. With Wanda inviting you to sit on her lap during movie nights. With Natasha begrudgingly letting the witch tie you down on their shared bed. With both of them holding you close at night, each of them murmuring some excuse about why they needed the physical contact.

You didn't mind. What kind of fool would mind being sandwiched between two of the most fearsome and beautiful Avengers?

But it very quickly stopped being enough for you.

You didn't want to be greedy, you knew your connection with Wanda wasn't right in the first place. You should have never allowed her to enchant you to the point of weaseling your way into her relationship.

And yet here you are.

Tucked under Wanda's arm while you watch her favorite sitcom.

A part you of you wants to be unhappy. To act like you don't want to be part of this.

But the truth is you do.

You really like this.

"You're thinking too much, detka." There's no judgement in the witch's tone, just the soothing sound of her accent. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, instantly feeling overwhelmed from the mere thought of sharing your worries with her. You're not even sure why you're worried. Why there's a part of you that can't seem to settle, despite how warm and comfortable the older woman's embrace is.

"I'm fine," you mumble.

Wanda hates it when you mumble, but you can't help it. You also can't help the way you turn toward her, your face finding refuge in the crook of her neck.

She allows it for it now. Clearly, she doesn't need to read your thoughts to know how much you're struggling with them.

You want to feel embarrassed about it, but it's hard to feel anything except her palm pressing into your side. Her fingers slip under the hem of your (well...Natasha's) shirt and she draws small circles against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Wanda watches her show and you catch glimpses of it whenever you gather the courage to peak your head up and out of the comfort of her neck.

You've practically settled into the comfort when the door opens and your bubble of safety is popped.

Your shoulders tense until you hear the telltale sound of Natasha's sigh. There's an edge of annoyance to the sound that you've grown to associate with her. "Wanda, if you wanted a pet, we could have just gotten a cat."

Her words make the witch chuckle despite herself. She knew, no matter how cold the other woman acted, she was simply pretending. It was always easier for her to put her walls back up when she was unsure of something instead of going with the flow.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart."

Wanda gives your side a small pinch, not to hurt you but to encourage you to say hi. You don't really want to, you're still not sure how to act around the older woman, but you do it anyway.

"Hi, Nat."

The redhead rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. "Hello, kitten. Have you been behaving?"

It's a small thing but it's a start. A reminder that she doesn't actually dislike you and she's not mad at the way things have turned out.

That maybe...she's softer than she looks.

"Yes, Daddy," you reply, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you address Natasha by her title. "I listened to Mommy all day."

The small smile on the redhead's face grows at your words. As tough as she looks, she completely adores the way you instantly submit to her without any objections. The way it all seems so natural. So weirdly right.

"Without pouting?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in the way that makes you tremble.

The idea of lying crosses your mind but you know better than that. Plus, there's no use in lying when you're sitting next to a literal mind reader.

"Well...no. But it wasn't my fault!"

Natasha doesn't seem convinced, although she does seem amused. Her eyes drift to Wanda, who can't seem to wipe the proud grin off her face. "It wasn't?"

"It wasn't," the witch replies. "She just got pouty because I told her we had to wait for you before we could play."

"Oh, I see. So, you didn't get pouty, you got needy, is that right?"

You nod, her tone making your head swim in an all too familiar way.

Natasha crawls into bed and shifts herself until she's laying down between your spread legs. The flimsy material of your shorts does little to keep your arousal hidden away from the older woman.

"Come here, detka," Wanda murmurs as her hands grip your hips.

She effortlessly lifts you up until you're sitting between her legs, your back pressed firmly against her front. It's a subtle show of dominance, a reminder that despite Natasha's stubbornness, Wanda's the one in charge. The one you actually belong to.

But there's also a soft side to it. A reminder that she's right there in case things get too overwhelming. That you can back out at any moment and they won't be upset.

It's far too late for that, though. Far too late to act like you don't want them both. Like you don't need them.

Natasha's hands bring you back. Her fingers trail a teasing path up your thighs until they reach the waistband of your shorts.

There's a wordless question in her gaze. One that makes your heart skip a beat.

You nod in response and she wastes no time in getting rid of the garments in the way.

Her eyes take in every inch of exposed skin, the softness in her smile turning slightly predatory. It's a sight you're growing very used to seeing.

"Look at you," she coos, although her tone is far more teasing than sweet. "You're already so wet for us. Mommy's left you needy for too long, huh?"

"I'm not the bad guy here," Wanda says with a chuckle. "It wasn't my idea."

Natasha rolls her eyes but your attention is captured by the witch and her warm hands that slip under your shirt. Her fingers make their way up your torso, her nails dragging against your skin and making your back arch in response.

"Don't listen to her, detka, she's just jealous."

You nod along to the redhead's words even though they don't fully register in your mind. All you know is you're stuck between them as they engage in yet another unnecessary competition.

Wanda notices first, far too used to the subtle cues that give away your growing dependence on them. Your growing need to let go and let them take over.

"There you go, sweetheart, doesn't that feel nice?" Her voice is soft and sweet in your ear, a constant lullaby that allows you to sink deeper against her.

"Mhmm," you hum, your hands reaching out for Natasha as her lips join her fingers in exploring your skin.

The witch is quick to stop you before you get too carried away. Her hands wrap around your wrists and she holds them down, allowing her girlfriend to keep teasing you. "Just relax, baby, Nat knows what to do."

You don't doubt her words for a second, but you also don't doubt the teasing mood the redhead seems to be in. You would complain if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself still.

It's easier said than done, though, and Natasha quickly tightens her grip on your thighs, keeping you exposed to her gaze and completely still. "Come on, detka, don't you want to show Mommy what a good girl you are?"

Her words make your hips buck, but instead of teasing you for it, she sives right into the main event. Her breath ghosts the most sensitive part of your body before her lips wrap around your swollen clit.

The sensation borders on far too much far too quickly and yet the pleasure seems to overwhelm your body before the sensitivity hits you. Your head falls back against Wanda's shoulder as your lips part in a long moan.

The witch takes advantage of your change in position and attaches her lips to your neck, switching back and forth between gentle kisses and harsh nips. "There you go, isn't that better? Don't think, darling, just let us take over."

The answer is more than obvious considering how far gone your mind is. All you can fully focus on is the soft fuziness feeling your head and the pleasure you're drowing under.

"Daddy," you whine under your breath, your hips shifting against Natasha's mouth.

The redhead simply hums, lapping at your arousal like a woman starved. She doesn't want to admit it but hearing you call her that does things to her that she can't explain. There's a certain type of satisfaction she's never felt with Wanda, even when her girlfriend is in a more submissive mood.

It's what draws her closer to you despite how hard she tries to pretend like she doesn't care. And maybe she doesn't care, but the way she commits herself to making you fall apart, completely overwhelmed by pleasure tells another story.

Wanda's quick to notice how fuzzy you are by now, how perfectly pliable you've become with just a few soft strokes of Natasha's tongue against your throbbing clit. She lets go of your hands, trusting you not to move, before her fingers slip under your shirt again, trailing up until she reaches your breasts.

"Such a good girl for us," she murmurs, as her fingers find your nipples. "Such a pretty little pet."

You're stuck between wanting to arch your back and buck your hips. Ultimately, you end up doing nothing which is exactly what they like. It allows them to please you and use you in whatever way they want.

It's a little surprising how devoted Natasha seems to be to just pleasuring you, but your head is far too fuzy for you to try and think about that. The implications themselves aren't lost on you, though, and they only add to the growing coil in settled in your stomach.

"Don't tell me you're getting ahead of yourself, kotenok." The redhead leans back just enough to look up at you, dark green eyes drinking in every inch of your face. "Good girls don't act like greedy sluts, do they?"

"No, Daddy."

Your instant response makes her smirk and she rewards you by sinking two fingers into your wet cunt.

A gasp slips out of your parted lips and Wanda takes the opportunity to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples. The stinging pain mixes perfectly with the sudden pleasure and you can't stop your body from trembling under their expert hands.

"Please," you whine. "Can I cum?"

"Already?" Wanda chuckles. "Did I leave you too needy earlier?"

"Mhmm, so needy." You don't fully know what you're saying, you just know you can't hold back anymore and the last thing you need is to earn yourself a punishment. "Please."

Your words only seem to spur Natasha on and, instead of giving you mercy like you're asking for, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you, groaning as she feels your walls clenching around the digits. "Fuck, such a messy pet."

"I think she's about to get even messier."

The way they talk about you like you're not even there only adds fuel to your desperate arousal. There's nothing more for you to do besides wait for Natasha to decide to give you the mercy you're begging for.

You half-expect her to not give it to you just so she can punish you for it later. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and you're certain she's only gotten more obssesed with the idea since then.

"Yeah? Is Mommy right, detka? Are you going to make a mess for us?" You know Natsha's teasing you and yet you don't feel the usual flush of humilation. Instead, the warmth that floods you is exactly the same one you feel when Wanda uses her sweetly condescing tone on you.

They're such different tones, such different people, and yet you can't deny the way you feel about them. The way every part of you begs for them.

"Yes, please-" Natasha steals your words by curling her fingers inside your wet heat, your thighs shaking from the force of holding back your orgasm. "Wanna cum, please-"

Wanda shushes you, knowing exactly how to soothe you when you need it most. She doesn't give you the permission you need, though, and in your desperation, you miss the silent conversation the two lovers have.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours until finally, Natasha gives in. "Go ahead, detka, cum for us."

She dives back in, her tongue drawing circles on your sensitive cit as her fingers move in and out of your cunt. The pleasure builds and builds, spurred on by Wanda's fingers playing with your nipples.

All it takes is the witch pinching your hardened peaks once more for you to fall over the edge for them.

Your mouth falls open in a loud moan, your whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure overtake your senses. Even as you lose control of yourself, the two women don't relent or give you a second to catch your breath.

As much as you'd love to complain about it, you can't when all you can think about is the electric sensations coursing through your body.

You cry out as Natasha continues her assault on your oversensitive clit, your hips shaking as you try to move away from her. Instead of scolding you for moving so much, she groans against you, causing your walls to clench around her in response.

"Don't fight it, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, her lips grazing your jaw. "Just let Daddy make you feel good. It's what you wanted, right? Now take it like a good girl."

"Uh-huh, fu-" Your attempts at words turn into needy sounds that spur the redhead on.

"One more, detka, do it for me, yeah?"

Despite your initial complaints, your body gives in to the pleasure almost instantly. It's not fully surprising but it's certainly overwhelming and it sends you deeper into the fuziness filling your mind.

Natasha does her best to hold you down even as your hips buck desperately into her face. She works a third finger inside you and it takes all your self-restraint to not fall apart at the feeling.

"Please!" You gasp. "Can I cum?"

This time, the witch takes over and gently guides you toward your orgasm. "Go ahead, angel, you've been so good for us, just let go."

So, you do.

You give up control and let go.

You're not sure what happens, all you know is your whole body tenses as the coil in your stomach snaps free. You're too far gone to realize what a mess you make of yourself and the sheets beneath you, but the satisfaction in Natasha's movements isn't lost on you.

She works you through the seemingly never-ending aftershocks, easing herself away from your clit and slowly pulling her fingers out of your cunt. "So fucking beautful..."

Your body finally goes limp and you practically melt against Wanda. Her arms wrap around your waist while she places soft kisses to every inch of your face she can reach. "Good girl. You did so well."

You hum in response, barely registering Natasha's movements as she does her best to clean you up.

The bed shifts when the redhead finishes and you instantly know she's moving away from both of you. You try to complain but the words don't seem to form.

"Shhh, just rest, kotenok, you need it."

You want to argue and assure her you feel fine, but you can't seem to find the strength to open your eyes. All you manage to do is whine, earning yourself a chuckle from Wanda.

"Don't pout, baby. You're my good girl, right?"

You wait for Natasha to correct her. To jump in and say you're their good girl.

But she doesn't.

And the longer the silence goes on, the more it hurts your feelings.

"Mommy..." You whisper.

She presses a soft kiss to your temple as her hands go back to caressing your sides. "I know. We'll figure it out later, just sleep for now."

There's little for you to do besides give in and let sleep overcome you.

* * *

When you wake up, you instantly notice the lack of warmth against you. Your head's still a little fuzzy but you feel slightly more in control now. You're also still pretty drowsy, though.

You attempt to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes as you lift your head, your eyes searching around the room for Wanda.

Instead of the witch, you find her girlfriend curled up in the reading chair in the corner of the room. There's a certain tension in her form that tells you far more than she'd like.

"Maria called," Natasha says, her voice colder than you've heard it in a while. "Wanda had to go. It sounded like she'll be gone for a few weeks."

Oh.

At least that explains why the redhead looks so...vulnerable and...lost.

Their relationship has always been a bit of a mystery to you. Despite the many nights you've listened to Wanda complain about the assassin's shitty coping mechanisms, you don't know many details about their connection.

You just know that somehow...they work. Despite their traumas and their pain, they understand each other.

And then there's you.

You're even less sure of where you fit in.

Of how Natasha feels about you.

"You can at least pretend to be happy to spend time with me," she says, effectively cutting off your thoughts.

"I am," you reply without skipping a beat. "I just...didn't think you'd be thrilled about it."

"Why? Because I'm the big bad girlfriend who has no feelings? Who doesn't give a shit about anyone?"

Despite her attempts to sound mad, her tone gives away how hurt she is. How terrified she is that you see her like that. That you think she's half as bad as the stories you've heard about her.

"No, I just...well, I know you and Wanda had that arrangement and everything but you didn't ask for this. I thought you just saw me as her annoying pet."

The corners of her mouth twitch a little as she tries to hold in her smile. "I did at first. It's nothing personal, hearing Wanda say she wanted you was...a little hard to deal with."

"Yeah, I figured." You sit up with your back against the headrest, your eyes absentmindedly admiring Natasha's features. Even with the distance between you, she looks stunning. "It wasn't easy for me either, y'know? I felt really guilty about it."

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with her the first time, though."

"Well, no but...in my defense, you can't exactly say no to Wanda when her mind is made up."

That earns you a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again. Why do you think you're here? Wanda didn't want to let you go after the first time."

It's not necessarily news considering how things went down after the first time, but you can't act like your heart doesn't skip a beat at her words. The confirmation that the witch wanted you is one thing, but you're still not sure how Natasha feels. Something that's not surprising considering how closed off she is.

"And you?" You ask, hoping you sound less nervous than you feel.

It takes Natasha a few seconds to form her response. You can't exactly blame her but the silence makes your skin crawl. The fear that she doesn't want you, that she doesn't care, rises up within you the longer it drags on.

Finally, she eases your mind.

"Let's just say you've grown on me, kitten."

It's not much and yet it's more than enough for you. It reinforces the connection you've started feeling with her. The bond that demands to be nurtured despite how unusual it is.

Then again, wanting unsual things is kind of your thing at this point.

"You've grown on me too," you mutter, doing your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face.

"That doesn't mean you're not still our pet, though," she clarifies. "...if you want, that is. It can stay casual or we can turn it into more. We can train you. I can train you, if you want to be our submissive."

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in.

You nod before you even know what you're doing. You don't need to think about it, though, it's what you want. You want them. And all the little nuances that come with them.

Natasha watches you for a moment, her eyes studying you as if she's waiting for you to realize what you're doing and back out instantly. You can't exactly put your reasons into words to ease her mind. All you know is you've never wanted anything the way you want them.

Despite not being a mindreader like her girlfriend, the assasin is quick to move toward you once the thought of being fully theirs crosses your mind.

"You sure you've got what it takes, kitten?" She asks as she settles onto your lap. "I'm a lot to handle."

"I can take it," you reply, your hands landing on her waist without a second thought. "I want you."

Finally, your words are enough to break through her defenses. 

It doesn't feel like enough and yet it's exactly what she had wanted to hear. What she was afraid you wouldn't want.

"Then you have me," she says, her voice far softer than you've ever heard it.

There's so much you want to say, but words don't seem to be enough right now. So, instead, you lean forward and press your lips to hers.

You're not completely sure how you ended up here but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...