#and again she mentions that she and Anna did not know each other and had to pretend to be close friends

[ingravinoveritas]

So, for those who haven't had a chance to listen, Georgia recently made an appearance on Blank Podcast, and there was one section of the interview in particular that stood out, which is where she talks about Michael and David and Staged. You can listen to it above, and here is a transcript:

Georgia: "It's very meta, both on screen and off screen. Erm...but we sort of...Michael and David had known each other from Good Omens season one and they got on very well, but they weren't...they weren't "mates." Now they are mates. They are like...yeah. I mean they are...they are very interlinked now forever. For many reasons."

I would encourage folks to listen to the audio, because the text alone honestly does not do it justice. In particular, the specific way Georgia said the word "mates" (especially the second time). What is also interesting is that in the rest of the discussion preceding this, the whole interview flows like a conversation, very naturally. But the moment Georgia starts talking about Staged (and especially Michael and David), her cadence switches abruptly.

It almost seems as if she is carefully choosing her words, trying very hard not to say too much yet seemingly thinking so loudly as to make it noticeable at the same time. We know from past experience that Georgia does not post anything on social media or say anything in interviews haphazardly, so one can just imagine how much she was telling us without telling us anything at all.

Of course, this is pure conjecture and speculation, but between the #mumanddad/"Happy Together" pic and everything else, it most definitely does make you wonder. I hope my followers will listen, however, and let me know what you think...

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello can you please do more baby or toddler reader x batfamily if you can😭i just love them

Oh sure can. I kind of love them too. I'll do baby reader, since we didn't have those in a while. Also, look at this adorable little penguin. Baby animals are cute.

Summary: First time that (Y/N) came to the manor.

Warnings: mentions of death during birth, but it's not (Y/N), a lot of fluff, angst(?), I don't know at this point.

Bruce was silently sitting at the dining table, looking at the phone, not sure how to feel at this moment. He had a one night stand 9 months ago and the woman he was with was carrying his child. Bruce asked her what she wanted to do, did she want to get rid of the baby or keep it?

Bruce was secretly hoping she would keep the baby, but he couldn't tell her what to do with her body. That would be wrong in his opinion. Thankfully, she choose to keep the baby. Thank God. Bruce was happy and he told his other sons about the incoming baby. None of them were surprised, but worried. A baby in their lifestyle?

They were all worried to say the least. Even Damian. Not about the fact that a biological child of Bruce was coming into the family, but worried about the fact that it's a baby. All of them were hoping for a girl, because who wouldn't want a little sister at their hands? Once they found out it was a boy, they were a tad disappointed, but didn't mind another boy.

The more the merrier was the joke.

The pregnancy was going smoothly... Until the time of labor came. He thought that it would go smoothly. He really did. However, it didn't. (Y/N)'s mom didn't make it, but (Y/N) did. That was the call he just got.

She passed away during birth. The nurse who called assured Bruce that the baby was okay. At the moment, Bruce was trying to collect himself before he broke the news to everyone. He looked up from the phone as his sons came in, all confused as to what has happened.

" What happened Bruce? " Dick asked as he sat down and Bruce rubbed his eyes.

" Anna, the one night stand gave birth today. She didn't make it, " Bruce announced and everyone froze.

Damian was left worried for the baby, Tim's mouth dropped and Jason was left speechless. Dick had to sit down.

" Are you serious? " Tim asked, eyes widening at the news. This was huge.

" Just got the call Tim. She passed away. Right now, I need to get some baby stuff. And that means furniture, clothes, diapers, damn formula too... " Bruce rubbed his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed by everything.

" We'll deal with that, " Damian declared and the other 3 nodded in agreement. " We'll just need your credit card. You need to make sure that the baby is taken care of. And we do need to think of a name. "

" I thought we agreed on (Y/N). And so did Anna, no? " Dick asked, rubbing his chin.

" Yes, we'll name the boy (Y/N). Also, don't go overboard. " Bruce warned and Dick chuckled.

" You shouldn't worry about money, since you are rich, " Dick mumbled as his face turned solemn.

" I know Dick. I trust you all. First and foremost, we need a list of what we need for the room. Create a list of furniture and then just make sure to get enough clothes for now. We'll think about that later. But formula is something that he needs, so make sure to get about a week's worth... Is that too much? " Bruce wondered out loud, sighing quietly.

" We'll get a week's worth, don't worry father. We'll go furniture shopping today, so that it'll be ready when (Y/N) is discharged from the hospital, " Damian said, looking Bruce in the eyes.

" (Y/N) will be okay here. " Tim put his right elbow on the table, then rested his chin in his hand. " We may be chaotic, but we'll take good care of him. He won't lack anything, " Tim said with a firm voice and everyone nodded.

" Oh hell yeah. We'll all step up for this baby. And we'll take care of him. We'll make a list of duties and try to do our best. " Jason crossed his arms as he leaned back into his chair.

" I agree Jason. "

They all looked at each other, clearly determined to make sure that (Y/N) is taken care of.

Bruce went to the hospital right after the conversation, nervous beyond belief to meet his son. He entered the hospital, where he asked the nurse for directions. The nurse gently led him where (Y/N) was and Bruce saw him through the glass, with other newborns. Bruce tried to not cry, tried to not tear up.

But he couldn't stop the tears that came up. He wiped them quickly and the nurse gently patted his shoulder.

" (Y/N) is healthy, mister Wayne. A good weight too. But sleeps most of the time, which is normal. The only thing you need to do right now is sign the paperwork for that adorable baby, " She said, gently smiling at (Y/N), then turned to Bruce.

" And I know that you are a single father and that a baby is different than teens, but you'll get the hang of it. And I know you must feel overwhelmed and not prepared, but no one is prepared for a baby. There's no manual to get ready, " She told him and Bruce chuckled.

" I know. But I've been reading books on how to take care of newborns. What to do and what not to do. But I feel like it's not enough, " Bruce explained and she nodded.

" Do not sell yourself short. You got this. And I think the little guy would love to live with you. Do you want to hold him? "

Bruce nodded. " But I need to sit down first. "

" Of course. " She gently led him to a room where he could sit down and then she left to go get (Y/N). Bruce has never felt so nervous and anxious in his life. He tried to calm down, but his nerves got the better of him. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves down.

He got ready as the nurse entered with (Y/N), who was swaddled and sleeping.

" Alright, are we ready dad? " The nurse asked and Bruce nodded. He knew he was ready.

The nurse gently put (Y/N) into Bruce's arms and Bruce smiled at his baby boy. (Y/N) opened his eyes and Bruce smiled even more.

" Hello (Y/N). It's dad, " Bruce said and (Y/N) seemed to scan him before letting out soft sounds.

The nurse adjusted his hold, warning him about the neck and head. Bruce listened intently, adjusting his hold accordingly.

" You have 4 brothers and you wrapped them around your little finger. They'll do anything for you, " Bruce said gently to his son, who seemingly smacked his little lips together. Bruce chuckled at that.

" I'll make sure you are never lack love. Never, " Bruce muttered, smiling at his baby boy. " Oh they'll love you. "

Bruce turned his head towards the nurse. " When can I take him home? "

The nurse thought for a moment. " Normally, we would discharge him with the mother, but since she passed and he's fine, you could take him today. "

So Bruce did just that. After he talked to all the appropriate people, signed a shit ton of documents in Bruce's words. Afterwards, he made his way to find a baby car seat. He quickly put it together in the parking lot. Being Batman is a perk of it's own. He put it together and went to the hospital to pick his son up and go home with him.

He could only hope that the boys have put together a crib. However, he didn't doubt that they bought it, they are all quick and efficient, but... He's worried. He can only hope that they didn't kill one another while putting together the cribs. He'll be happy if he he finds two of his sons unconscious. And without any broken bones.

Which Bruce knew was unlikely, but one can hope. He gently strapped (Y/N) in and drove home, making sure to be vigilant on the road and to make sure that both him and (Y/N) made it home safely. After a while, he parked the car in the yard and got out, taking (Y/N) with him, making sure he is swaddled and calm.

He opened the door quietly and he could hear voices upstairs, probably where they were putting together the furniture. He slowly walked upstairs, being quiet on purpose to see what was going on.

And was that a sight to see.

Damian and Tim were putting together a changing table and Dick and Jason have put some toys into the crib, making it comfortable for their brother.

Bruce cleared his throat and everyone turned their heads to look at him, before their eyes fell down on a little bundle of joy in (Y/N)'s arms. They all froze and melted a tiny bit.

" Aw, he's so cute, " Dick came closer, watching (Y/N) who was awake at the moment, looking around at the new faces and voices.

Jason peaked over Tim's shoulder. " My, my. He is cute. " Jason said quietly as he gently reached out to touch (Y/N)'s cheek.

" Before any of you touch him, " Bruce said, making Jason pause mid air, " I want you all to wash your hands. So go to the bathroom and wash your hands.

[kadwrites]

deja vu | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary; how well do we really know the people we love?

warnings ; dark!tommy, minor character death, description of violence , mentions of murder, arranged marriage!trope , slow burn, fem!reader

a/n ; please let me know what you think!

-

you tilted your head and frowned , you're both standing at the garrison.

"tommy..." you mumbled in protest

"i know" he nodded "it'll be very short."

you clicked your tongue and then huffed "if you take longer than ..... 30 minutes i'm leaving."

"ya won't."

"get out of my sight." you muttered , taking a sip of your drink.

you sighed, looking over at the place. it was fairly busy, but not stuffy. sounds of chatter and men laughing echoing around, the lighting is dim. you made your way to the booth you were in, sitting down , eyeing your drink.

"when i heard tommy was marrying again, i would've never thought it's celest's little sister that he's trapped."

you recognized the voice before even processing the words, you look up, your brows raised and smiling in disbelief "lizzie?"

she's standing there, looking over at you. her blue eyes studying every inch of your face, a face she hadn't seen in a long time. and you hadn't expected to see her here , of all places.

"what are ya doing?" she speaks softly. you know the tone, you get the meaning; what are you doing with someone like him ?

you stand up, your gaze never leaves her , still smiling. "lizzie... i've not seen ya in so long..."

since she got involved with tommy , that is. lizzie and celest knew each-other , went to school together. lizzie would sometimes stay over , whenever your mother felt she wouldn't be safe otherwise. until the war.

she chuckles, "ya 'ave your mother to thank for that."

you chuckled too, still looking at her. "how did ya know about it?"

she gives you a look, her dark brow raised "everyone knows. i just didn't know it would be someone like *you*"

you lick your lips, "lizzie i know ya two share.... a history"

she scoffs , a bitter smile on her lips "i don't resent ya for this, i wouldn't." she shakes her head "i 'ave given up on 'im... a long time ago." her eyes look away for a moment before landing on you "whatever ya think of 'im, whatever ya believe he is , he's not." she speaks with conviction.

you don't reply to that, you're just trying to know what she means by it.

"thomas shelby doesn't know love like we do, what he knows is ownership." she chuckles bitterly, "learned what that meant the hard way. but ya shouldn't go through what i did." she shakes her head softly

"i don't understand...."

she stays silent for a moment "consider this a warning from a friend, this man , *will ruin you* , and when that 'appens ya will not recognize who you've become but he.... he will remain the same, unchanged not matter how hard ya try. he will always be what he always was, no love in the world can heal whatever is broken in 'im."

"ya don't understand, lizzie." you speak finally, "this isn't simple, for either of us. i can't leave"

"ya can't or ya won't?"

"i..." you pause for a moment, letting out a chuckle "i can't."

she studies your face , nodding "what does celest think? what does oliver think?"

"they're not thrilled."

"i know 'im more than most." she adds "and if i

knew what i do now when i first met 'im....." she looks away "i came here because i knew you'd be here and to tell ya that ya can come to me... if ya ever need help."

she places a hand on your arm, looking at you one more time before turning and making her way out of the garrison.

"she was always a nice girl" your mother sighed, taking a bite of her food

you and celest look at eachother before looking back at her,

celest knew why lizzie talked to you , and so did the rest of your family

"where's abraham?" you nod towards anna

she shrugged , "he had to do something before coming here"

"ya knew who i dreamt of?" your father pointed his fork at you "that teller boy, jeremy was it?. it was the strangest thing , i tell ya"

all the women at the table tried to stay neutral, keep their reactions to a minimum, you try to hide your uncomfortable reaction behind your glass of water "it is strange"

the whole table looks towards the front door, the sound of the door slamming open and not slamming back closed, and the heavy rushed footsteps

"i need to talk to ya," he appears in the living room doorway. he puts his hands on his hips, breathing heavily as if he ran to the house. he's disheveled, he pushed his glasses back on his nose with a shaky hand

"jeremy teller is dead." he speaks in a hushed voice, looking around to check that no one is listening, both of you standing in your parents bedroom. he didn't want anyone to hear , especially not renee or she might just give birth on the spot.

"what? no he's not." you laugh, looking at him. waiting for him to finish his joke

he looks at you, wiping a hand over his face. he looks at you "he's fucking dead."

your laugh falters slowly as you look at him, your face twitching with different emotions "how ? when? how do you know about it?"

"i heard. they found 'im murdered," he tries to not speaks too loudly "his throat was slit"

you can feel your blood go cold "do they know who killed 'im?"

he tilts his head, his hands still shaking as they rest on his hips. "ya know who killed 'im."

"no....no." you shake your head, laughing again in disbelief "no no no, no" you look away and step back, putting a hand over your forehead "that's impossible."

"listen to me" he grabs your shoulders, turning you to look at him "he did it, all of small heath knows he did and ya do too."

"no , he wouldn't." you shake your head again, your heart beating so fast you can hear it. "why would he do that? he wouldn't ."

he moves you gently, sitting you down on the chair in your parents room. he kneels , his hands move to your face "what do ya wanna do now ?"

the room feels so stuffy, you can hardly breath.

"i don't know." your chest feels like it might collapse. you try to stand up, but you can barely feel your legs, you try to blink away the darkness that takes over your vision.

but you knew it was coming, the darkness does take over.

here you are again, staring at that portrait that hangs opposite of your bed. you're filled with dread , fear and even anger , your eyes trace the portrait that you've already memorized.

your head on the pillow, your sister sniffling is another reminder, like a deja vu of that cursed night.

but you can see someone else in your peripheral vision sitting in the chair , those cold blue eyes cannot be missed. its as if his presence filled the room with a cold sort of air.

you try to get up,

"lay down"

"i don't want to." you mumble, letting out a breath as you lean your back against your bed frame. your eyes still on the painting, you don't even glance his way.

"feeling better?" his voice sounds colder than you ever remember it being. the smell of the cigarette smoke making you close your eyes shut, making your head spin. you reach for the glass of water on your bedside table, your hands quiver as you bring it to your lips

"yes" you put the glass back down

"ya look pale"

"hmm"

you can't shake that feeling, you're scared of looking at him and seeing the same view you did that day, the blood on his hands.

"ya killed 'im." you're almost muttering to yourself,

he doesn't answer you, and you don't ask again. you finally peel your eyes off of the old painting, glancing at him. the look on his face gave you the answer that you already knew.

he looks so calm , so collected , almost wicked. "are ya scared now?"

and it was your turn to not answer his question, but your eyes never leave his.

"did ya do it yourself?"

"yes" he looks right back at you "you're already aware of what i can do"

you just shut your eyes, your hands shake as they grip into the covers

"forgetting it is your fault, not mine." his voice sounds again

you don't even remember the rest of that day, his words were replying in your head.

you snap out of that trance a day later, you're in the living room on the chair by the window. you look straight at the window as your mind tries to make sense of everything, and then a figure down the street catches your eyes and you feel a switch go off in your head.

i have eyes around here.

and you realize , probably ears too.

your clothes swish as you run out of the living room towards your parents' room, your mother running behind you. the old wooden floor cried under your rushed footsteps

"what happened?"

you don't even hear her, you don't process what she's saying. you pull out the box from under their bed, you rummage through it , pulling out your dad's revolver.

the cold metal of the gun feels like it's burning through your flesh

"what the fuck are ya doing? where did ya get that?" oliver yells , his eyes opened wide as tries to run after you too.

the whole house freezes, all of them just still as if the slightest movement would set that gun off

you push that door open , it slams against the wall beside it. your feel take you towards the man standing in the street , a figure you've seen lurking around too many times to chalk it up to coincidences

you cock back the hammer, your hands are steady for the first time since yesterday.

"ya tell tommy fucking shelby that if he doesn't get ya fuckers away from me , i'll start shooting."

you move the revolver and point it to the pavement , missing his foot by a hair.

-

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗔𝗨𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗘

　　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a long-distance relationship. After months of not seeing each other, Y/N decides to surprise Matt in LA.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from @lizziesx

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed in relief as she left her last class of the day, closing her eyes momentarily and thanking that classes always ended early on Friday, before walking again, heading towards the Starbucks on the college campus.

A smile spread across her face when she saw her group of friends already waiting for her at their table, Julia already holding her usual, Caramel Machiatto.

"Oi meninas! (Hi girls!)" Y/N spoke with a smile in her voice, pulling out the reserved chair for herself, hanging her bag on the back of it, and sitting on the seat.

"Oi gatinha, como foi Direito Constitucional? (Hi kitty, how was Constitutional Law?)" Gabriela, who sat on her left, asked as Julia passed the drink to Y/N, who thanked her with a wink before taking a sip.

"Foi um porre, o professor adora pegar no meu pé, mas pelo menos eu tirei nota máxima no trabalho. (It was horrible. The teacher loves picking on me, but at least I got a perfect grade on my work.)" Y/N rolled her eyes, snorting at the mention of her teacher.

"Eu sei exatamente o que vai levantar o seu astral. (I know exactly what will lift your spirits.)" Anna, the third and last girl in the group, spoke as she raised her right hand, receiving everyones attention. "Achei um barzinho incrível na Vila Madalena, álcool é a solução pros nossos problemas. (I found an amazing bar in Vila Madalena, alcohol is the solution to our problems.)" She finished, a smile on her face, she was their typical Happy Hour organizer.

Julia and Gabriela smiled equally big, nodding their heads. By Brazilian tradition, Happy Hour always took place on Friday, so they were already looking forward to the idea through all day.

"Bora, amiga? (You coming, bestie?)" Anna turned to Y/N, waiting for confirmation after not seeing her react like she usually did.

"Não vou conseguir, meninas. Vou pra LA hoje. (I can't make it, girls. I'm going to LA today.)" She replied, unable to contain a smile when she mentioned the city.

"Hmm, vai visitar o boy? (Hmm, are you going to visit your boy?)" Julia said with a smile, stirring her drink with the straw.

"Sim, fazem meses que não nos vemos e não aguento mais só falar com ele por Facetime. Comprei passagem para ir hoje, e volto na segunda-feira, infelizmente. Se eu faltar mais uma aula, eu me fodo. (Yes, we haven't seen each other for months, and I can't stand just talking to him on Facetime. I bought a ticket to go today, and I'll be back on Monday, unfortunately. If I miss one more class, I'll get fucked.)" Y/N explained, taking a sip of her drink.

Y/N and Matt met on one of the girl's trips to Los Angeles years ago when she was still in her gap year, she and her parents had a house in the city and always went there on every vacation.

Their first meeting was an unusual one, but it caused the two to exchange numbers, keep contact, and, consequently, fall in love.

Because Y/N is Brazilian, lives with her mother in São Paulo and studies law at Mackenzie, she needed to travel back and forth from Brazil to be able to see her boyfriend in LA, since she wanted to finish her studies in her country.

The two agreed to continue their relationship in a long distance, and surprisingly, they handled that format very well. Their love for each other only intensified every day, and they felt like they fell in love all over again every time they saw each other in person, always reminding themselves that distance gave them a reason to love harder.

"Você vai de carro até o aeroporto? Ou sua mãe vai te levar? (Are you going to drive to the airport? Or is your mom going to take you there?)" Gabriela turned to her, seeing her shake her head.

"Nenhum, eu vou de Uber. O vôo é às 12pm e minha mãe tem plantão no hospital hoje, e eu não quero deixar meu carro no estacionamento do aeroporto. (None, I'm taking an Uber. The flight is at 12 pm, and my mom has a shift at the hospital today, and I don't want to leave my car in the airport parking lot.)"

"Eu te levo, amiga. (I'll take you, babes.)" Julia interrupted. "Depois eu me arrumo e vou direto pro tal bar que a Anna achou. (Then I'll get ready and go straight to that bar that Anna found.)"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Aproveita o seu boy e manda atualizações no grupo, eu quero saber tudo. (Enjoy your boyfriend and send updates to the group, I want to know everything.)" Julia spoke as she closed the trunk of her car, helping Y/N place her bags onto the airport cart.

"Eu prometo que vou atualizar vocês todos os dias. (I promise I'll update you every day.)" Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, smirking. "Obrigada pela carona, amiga. (Thanks for the ride, babes.)" She added, pulling Julia into a tight hug.

"Não precisa agradecer, só mandar o pix. (No need to thank me, just send the pix.)" Julia responded jokingly, laughing when Y/N slapped her arm.

"Idiota. (Jerk.)" Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile on her face, walking up the sidewalk and starting to push the cart with her bags.

"Também te amo! (love you too!)" Julia shouted as she got into her car.

Y/N quickly entered the airport, fishing her phone out of her jeans pocket and unlocking the screen, searching for her flight information. Her eyes read the boarding gate before putting her phone away again and pushing the cart to the check-in counter.

The process didn't take long, and soon, Y/N was able to sit in one of the chairs near her gate, taking out her phone again and unlocking it. Her thumb searched for the messaging app, opening it and seeing some chats with new texts.

The girl ignored all of them, as usual, and clicked on her mom's one, reading the latest texts.

"Honey, Matt sent me a text, he said that you haven't spoken to him all day and he is worried, thinking that you died."

"I said you had a test today at college and you couldn't use your phone during it."

"I think it's a good idea for you to send him a text before he's the one to come to Brazil."

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her laughter. They were both so dramatic.

The girl sent her mom a brief text letting her know that she was already at the airport and assuring her that she would talk to Matt.

Her thumb clicked the back button, and her eyes quickly found Matt's chat, seeing 10 new messages and 3 missed calls. Y/N rolled her eyes, not holding back a smile. She understood why he was so worried, since the two of them talked via messages and calls practically all day long, every day, her not sending anything other than a "good morning, my love" was worrying.

But it wasn't her fault that, after class, she had to go home quickly and pack her bags, which she obviously left to pack at the last minute.

Y/N briefly looked at the time, knowing that Los Angeles' time zone was different from Brazil's, before clicking the call button, waiting for her boyfriend to answer.

"Baby?" Matt's voice sounded on the other end.

"Hi my love, I'm sorry for not talking to you today. I had a test this morning, and I couldn't use my phone during it." The girl spoke, persisting in the lie created by her mother, as her eyes traveled across the space in front of her, seeing people walking back and forth with suitcases in their hands.

"It's okay, I was just worried." The boy spoke in a low tone. The sound of objects moving in the background echoed through the line. "How was the test? I'm sure you did well."

"It was-" Y/N looked up at the flight board, seeing that hers was taking off in 20 minutes, meaning they would soon announce it, and the girl would have to board. "It was great, baby. Honey, I need to go now, Julia is here at home doing some college work. I'll call you later. I love you, bye." She spoke quickly, cursing under her breath after hanging up the call.

She knew Matt would be sad about the way she acted, but she hoped that she going to LA would be enough for him to forgive her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sound of the plane pilot's voice coming through the speaker woke the girl from her sleep. Her eyes opened as her ears picked up the message that the landing would be made in a few minutes.

Y/N straightened up in her seat, her eyes going to the window on her side, seeing that the sky was almost completely dark. She took her jacket out of her purse, wanting to protect her bare arms from the cold of Los Angeles, since in Brazil was 40°C and here would be 9°C. She prepared her body for the thermal shock.

The shudder of the plane warned her that the landing was going to happen, her hands tightly gripping the arm rest as her eyes closed. She hated that feeling.

A few minutes later, passengers were allowed to leave. Y/N got up from her seat and grabbed her purse, following the line of people until she entered the airport. The girl unlocked her phone and saw that it was already 7 pm LA time. Her notification bar was full of messages from Matt, which made her heart sink. She could only imagine the anxiety her boyfriend was feeling.

Her eyes went over the last text he sent 10 minutes ago, warning her that he would film the car video with his brothers in 20 minutes. A smile spread across her face, her plan would work.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Matt, get rid of that ugly face right now." Nick spoke from the backseat, leaning on the side of Chris's seat as he looked at Matt's side profile.

"No can do. He's naturally ugly." Chris said, letting out a laugh followed by a yell when Nick slapped his forehead.

"Shut up, dumbass. we all look the same."

The oldest leaned away at lightning speed when he saw Chris quickly turn around with an angry expression, his right hand raised, ready to hit Nick back.

"Hey, stop!" Matt said, placing his left arm between the two of them.

"Then get rid of that angry face." Nick ordered again, leaning against the sides of the front seats, meeting Matt's eyes in the rearview mirror momentarily.

"He's like this because his little girlfriend has been ignoring him all day." Chris said as he looked at the camera, smiling when he saw Matt cross his arms and sigh deeply.

The two of them didn't know what was going on between Matt and Y/N, or if anything was going on at all, but Matt had been frowning since that morning, walking around the entire house while cleaning up all the messes he put his eyes on.

Nick had asked him what happened at one point in the day, but Matt just said that Y/N was acting weird before turning his back to his brother, going back to cleaning the video game equipment in the living room.

A knock on the window on the passenger side made the boys jump in fright; Nick let out a scream, pushing his own body onto the seat behind Chris's, while Chris bent down and covered his head with his hands, as if that would protect him from whatever that was. Matt turned abruptly towards the door on his side, moving his upper half away from it, almost lying on top of the car console.

It took a few seconds for Matt to register that whoever was knocking on his window was his girlfriend. His blue eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a perfect O, his heart racing a mile a minute as he felt his hands shake slightly.

"Are you really going to leave me standing out here?" Y/N's voice sounded muffled as she took some steps back and smiled, her right hand hidden behind her back.

"Y/N!" Nick shouted, jumping into his usual seat and pulling on his door handle repeatedly while begging Matt to unlock it.

"Y-Y/N?" Matt whispered, still in disbelief, ignoring his brother completely.

"If you don't open that door right now and give your girl a good kiss, I'm going to hit you." Chris spoke after straightening up in his seat, fixing the beanie on his head. "Go!" He spoke loudly, pushing Matt, who seemed to finally wake up from his trance.

The brunette's right hand flew to the button to unlock the doors, clicking there before pulling the handle, opening his door with a thud.

Matt had never gotten out of his car so fast, his feet running a few steps until he reached Y/N, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground and spinning her in the air, a loud laugh escaping his mouth as he closed his eyes, praying in his mind that this wasn't just a dream, but that if it was, that he never had to wake up again.

"Baby, I... you..." Matt pulled away slightly, shaking his head as he tried to process that his girlfriend was actually there, right in front of him. His blue eyes ran over Y/N's face and body, recording her image in his mind, despite already having it drawn, painted, and stuck in his soul. "You are here." He whispered, his eyes burning with tears.

"I'm here, baby." Y/N spoke in the same tone. "Oh my love, don't cry." Her eyes filled with tears as well, and a laugh escaped her lips. God, she loved him so much.

"So that's why you were ignoring me." Matt sniffled. His right hand went up to his face, passing them over his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I had to stop answering you for a while so I could prepare this surprise." She spoke, feeling her heart racing and butterflies in her stomach from the look in Matt's eyes. He looked so amazed. "But I have a present for you, as an apology." Y/N said slowly before taking her hand away from her back, showing the prettiest bouquet of tulips.

"Oh my-" Matt's eyes were wide, and his mouth was open, his heart freezing for a few seconds before speeding up like never before. Tears escaped his eyes without him even feeling them, while his cheeks burned with adrenaline. "This is for me?" He asked, perplexed.

"Of course, meu amor (my love). I saw it on the way here, and I thought: "Why not buy beautiful flowers for the prettiest boy in the world?"" She said softly, her eyes scanning his reactions closely.

"Thank you so much. I've never received flowers before." He sniffed, taking the bouquet delicately, as if any sudden movement could destroy it.

"They are so beautiful together." Chris commented a little away from them, his eyes also filled with tears. What they said was real. When a triplet cries, the other two cries as well.

Nick, who was next to Chris, nodded, a giant smile decorating his face as his hands held the camera, the lens focused on the couple, capturing the cute moment.

"This is true love, Y/N came all the way from Brazil just to see this idiot, and she brought flowers!" Chris continued to Nick in a low tone, not wanting to disturb the couple.

"At least now he'll be able to film today's video properly. He was worse than Grumpy from Snow White." The oldest triplet muttered from behind the camera loud enough for Matt to hear, letting out a laugh at the dirty look he gave him.

"Yes, but he's my Grumpy." Y/N spoke up, receiving grunts of disgust from Chris and Nick and a laugh from Matt.

The brunette took his free hand to Y/N's cheeks, pulling her lightly for a kiss, the first of that night. A contented sigh escaped the girl's mouth, who instantly relaxed and brought her hands to Matt's covered waist, squeezing the hoodie over her fingers while feeling like fireworks exploded inside her.

"Ew guys, that's enough love for one night." Chris said, covering his and Nick's eyes playfully.

Y/N pulled away from Matt, unable to contain her laughter, finally turning to the other two brothers.

"I think you have a video to film, don't you?" She asked wryly, smirking as she saw Chris roll his eyes and raise his arms in surrender, as if he hadn't been crying just seconds ago.

Nick turned, walking back to the car to put the camera in its place, and Chris followed, getting into the back seat next to the one Nick sits.

"I'll demand my hug later, Y/N." Nick shouted from inside the driver seat, trying to balance himself on it as he fiddled with the camera's focus.

"What do you think about being our guest on today's video?" Matt hugged her from behind, securely holding the bouquet, while resting his head in the crook of Y/N's neck, breathing in the scent of his girlfriend's perfume that he missed so much.

The girl smiled, even though he couldn't see it, stroking his left hand that rested on her waist while nodding her head.

Their fans would go crazy.

[hardly-an-escape]

for @bucktommypositivityweek Thursday 8/22: soulmates/string of fate | meant to be | 870 words | rated T

“I hate it when people talk about twists of fate,” Anna liked to say. “When it comes to life, we spin our own yarn, and where we end up is really, in fact, where we always intended to be.” —Julia Glass, Three Junes

“Do you ever think…” Evan said idly, and then seemed to get distracted, following the path of a droplet of sweat with one fingertip as it wound its way down Tommy's temple toward his jaw.

It was a lazy Sunday morning, and they were still catching their breath, sticky and satisfied and gloriously naked together. Tommy had just been starting to think longingly about the coffee machine downstairs.

“Do I ever think what?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Evan said. He'd already replaced his finger with his mouth, dropping a line of light kisses down the side of Tommy's face.

“You started to ask me something. Do I ever think what?” Tommy prompted.

“Oh. Yeah. Do you ever think, like, what would it have been like? If we had met each other before. When I first joined the 118, I mean.”

“I don't think you would have liked me very much,” Tommy said.

“I know you wouldn't have liked me very much,” Evan chuckled. “I was kind of a dipshit.”

“Was?” Tommy said dryly, and Evan pushed ineffectively at the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he said. “I'm in my Buck 5.0 era.”

“I don't even know what that means.”

Evan snorted, and rolled on top of Tommy, and for another long minute got distracted again, rubbing a stubbled cheek against his neck and collarbone until Tommy’s skin was tingling pleasantly.

“I mean it, though,” Evan said thoughtfully, kissing the cleft in Tommy's chin. “You know, if you think about it, we – we came so close to meeting. So many times. Even me joining the 118 was like, such a near miss.”

“Right, because you came in as my replacement.”

“That's the thing,” Evan said, finally pushing off Tommy's chest to sit upright, and oh, Tommy realized, he'd really been thinking about this. “I don't think I did? Bobby mentioned once that he meant to hire me to fill the spot left by someone named... Deluca? I never met him.”

Tommy pushed himself up on one elbow. “Wait, what? Sal Deluca?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to come in to replace him, but then you transferred, too. So A shift was a man short for a while, which I actually didn’t even realize at the time? And then when Bobby brought Eddie on we were finally at full strength.”

“So what you’re saying,” Tommy said slowly, “is that you and I were supposed to work together?”

“Yeah!” Evan said excitedly. “I think so! Isn’t that wild? But then you decided you wanted to fly again, and so we didn’t even overlap.”

“Wow. That’s… kind of crazy.”

“I've kind of been realizing there's a whole bunch of moments like that. Like, these little things that were connecting us way before we ever met. Like how Chimney called you in for the water drop that time and I was on the ground. I, uh,” he smiled shyly. “I really like to think about that.”

“I like it, too,” Tommy said.

He rubbed absently at Evan's knee and let his mind wander. He'd seen pictures of Evan back then, when he was fresh out of the academy and still a probie. He looked slender and lanky like a colt. And so young. For all the ego that radiated from him, the Evan in those photos had a raw, unfinished quality to him. Like he hadn’t quite finished cooking yet.

“It explains something I overheard Bobby say last week,” Evan said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, at the barbecue. I, uh, I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear,” he said, and Tommy made an incredulous noise. “Really! I was getting us drinks, and Bobby and Athena were just inside, and he – he said something about how he knew we would work well together, and she was like, Really, all skeptical like she gets, and he was like, Maybe not the way I originally thought, and then they both kind of laughed.” Evan grinned down at him and laughed a little. “So maybe we were. You know. Meant to be.”

He sounded a little facetious, as though he was expecting Tommy to make fun of him. But Tommy found himself humming thoughtfully instead, running one hand up the unfairly long line of Evan’s thigh from his knee to his hip. Gripping him there, at the opposite shoulder, gently, and even more gently pushing him back against the pillows and insinuating himself between his legs.

Evan was still laughing, a little breathlessly now, and when Tommy kissed him, sweet and slow, he almost thought he could taste Evan’s smile on his lips.

“I don’t know if I really believe in soulmates, Evan,” he said, eventually. “But it does feel like there’s something there, doesn’t it? Some kind of string tying us together.”

They kissed again, and Tommy ground down a little against Evan’s pelvis, just for the pleasure of skin on skin, for the pleasure of a good kiss with absolutely nothing between them.

“I don’t know if I believe in soulmates either,” said Evan, still a little breathless. “But if I had one, I – I think it would be you, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” asked Tommy. He felt his heart stutter a little in his chest.

“Yeah,” said Evan. And kissed him again.

this has been languishing in my drafts for weeks and I finally finished it for Positivity Week! based on this post by @unfuckablebogtroll

[onlyangel4]

desperate times call for desperate measures. toto wolff. part 2.

sugar daddy! toto wolff x reader

you are a struggling artist trying to live instead of just spending every moment worrying about money. toto wolff is the loneliest rich man in the world, when you find each other you are exactly what the other needs.

warnings- 18+, cursing, discussions of financial struggles. sugar daddy relationship. age gap relationship (reader is around twenty five. smut. Fingering in a private public place (I know it doesn’t make sense but trust me it will). for this toto has been divorced for three years.

part one // part three

“if you don’t stop pacing I’m going to get whiplash”, anna complained as she looked at your obviously worried form pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment. she was here for emotional support while you got ready for your first meeting with toto, something that caused an awful lot of anxiety to bubble up within you.

“i can’t help it, i’m just nervous”, you spoke as you looked at your friend hoping for some sympathy. anna stood from her place on your bed and placed a hand on your shoulder slowing you down to a halt.

“just focus, your hair and make up is done, what are you going to wear?”, anna questioned bringing your focus back to the here and now. you were forever grateful to have someone in your life that could ground you in the way that anna did. you would be lost without her.

“well, he sent me a box, he told me to only open it when i was ready to get dressed”, you explained and you could have sworn you watched anna’s jaw drop. “i told you, he is rich anna, he said he didn’t want me to worry about anything”, you explained but anna was already in your cupboard searching for the box that you had just mentioned before she thrusted it into your arms.

“come on open it”, she practically begged making you playfully roll your eyes at your friend before you did as you were told, pulling at the bows holding the box together. as it opened you were met with the most gorgeous pink satin material. on one of your first conversations with toto you had mentioned to him that your favourite colour was pink, so when he was picking you out a dress he knew exactly what to go with. you unfolded the dress, it was a figure hugging floor length gown with a high slight on your left leg, all held up by straps with the tiniest pink pearl details running along them.

this was quite possibly the nicest piece of clothing that you owned and it was clear that anna agreed, “fucking hell y/n, i’m this close to breaking up with tom and getting on that app”, she joked making both of you laugh. you quickly pulled the dress on with anna’s help to not ruin your already done hair and make up. once you were finally ready you looked at yourself in the mirror, this was the prettiest that you had felt in a long time. You felt first date ready, if this could even be considered a date.

“question”, anna piped up pulling you from your thoughts, “what the fuck are you going to wear on your feet, sketchers will not go with this”, she spoke. she was right, you didn’t really own nice shoes, you brought comfortable shoes that you knew would last a long time so you did not have to re buy them. but you did have an idea, you rooted through your closet and found a shoe box containing a pair of silver heels, these had been your prom shoes and you had hardly worn them since, but they were perfect for the dress.

anna left your apartment when you were all ready leaving you in front of the mirror just looking at yourself, it really didn’t feel like you but you liked it, the person in the mirror was just the rich version of you. a knock at the door alerted you that your ride was there and you grabbed your handbag and went over to the door. you were met with a man dress in a suit with a friendly smile on his lips, “y/n?”, he questioned and you nodded, “toto sent me to come and get you, follow me please” and once again you did as you were told.

///

spoiling you was toto’s number one priority, from his conversations with you he had learnt that you did not grow up with much and as an adult you lived with whatever you could afford but you never got to experience the luxury in life. toto had grown up with money, he was used to nice things. They were not special for him anymore. but watching someone else experience that luxury, now that would be special. especially if that person was you.

he may have gone a little overboard, but who could blame him? this was his first time having someone to spoil in three long years. he had spent hours online looking for the perfect dress to buy you. he had his personal driver pick you up in an incredibly nice car. and he had booked out the small private dining room at the ritz, asking to be left uninterrupted unless they were bringing foot. he wanted to be able to have this time with you in private, he wanted you two to be away from any prying eyes, so the private room was perfect. it may have cost a lot but that was nothing to toto, he would drop that money on you in a heartbeat.

toto was sat in the dining room at the single table that had been placed there. he had a bouquet of pink flowers at his side ready to give to you. he had planned it all perfectly it was going to be perfect but toto couldn’t help the nerves that he was feeling. these nerves than worse than those that he felt on an important race weekend. he was really nervous, he wanted to make sure this went well, he hoped that you would like him the way that he knew he would like you and then you would be able to continue this less than traditional relationship dynamic that he was desperate for. He would be able to look after you.

his head snapped in the direction of the door when he heard it open and sure enough he saw you stood there in the dress that looked a hundred times better on you than it did on the models on the website. he stood from his seat to approach you, “you look beautiful y/n”, he spoke offering you his arm to which you flashed him as smile and held onto it approaching the table.

“it is all this dress toto, i don’t think i have ever owned anything this nice. thank you”, toto couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart when he heard you thank him.

“anytime schatzi”, he spoke looking at you, “that is what I am here for”

seeing toto through a phone screen and seeing him in person were two very different things. ihis man was a giant, his towering height and broad shoulders gave him such a dominant vibe something that you found incredibly attractive and the way he looked at you made you weak at the knees. he looked at you like you were everything, his eyes trying to work out every single detail of your face and commit it to memory. yes, he was almost double your age but you did not care, he was one of the most attractive men that you had ever seen.

“i hope you don’t mind but i ordered a bit of a tasting selection for us that way you get to try everything”

“i don’t think i would have been able to pick if you asked me to order, i have no idea what half of this stuff is. i’m used to chicken nuggets and chips” you spoke and he chuckled softly finding your opposing lifestyles very endearing.

you and toto continued on this little meeting just talking about all sorts and drinking wine as you did so. You felt comfortable in his presence, like he could protect you from anything. you told him all about anna and your friendship with her and her boyfriend while he told you about his children. you listened intently enjoying learning about the man. yes you could have googled him but you saw no point in it. you wanted to learn who he really was. not who the internet thought he was.

there was a moment where the vibe between you switched from friendly to something a little different. you had been talking to him and using your hands as you talked, a quirk that you had whenever you were a little nervous. and one of your rings had fallen off your finger and onto the floor so naturally you bent down to grab it but toto had beaten you to it and gotten to the ring as it rolled to his feet. when you sat back up straight the strap on your dress had shifted down your shoulder revealing more of your breast to him and toto’s mind almost short circuited right there, you were pulled from his dreams. he was sure of it.

toto stood from his seat making his way over to you, his fingers gently ghosted over your shoulder reaching down from the strap of your dress, pulling it back to its previous place. he then reached for your hand, “here you go babygirl”, he spoke in a hushed voice as he slid the ring back onto your finger his eyes looking deeply into yours as he did. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, trying to control all of the not so family friendly thoughts that were currently racing around your mind. your eyes flicking down to his large hands for a moment, thinking about what it would feel like to have them roaming over your body, touching you in ways you could only imagine.

toto still had your hand in his and he decided to be bold, he pulled you to your feet and he then took a seat where you had been sat. he gently patted his lap, giving you the choice, if you were uncomfortable then he would just let it be call his driver and ask him to take you home. but you were not uncomfortable. instead, the idea of sitting in his lap made your heart race in your chest. you gently moved to perch on his lap, his hand on your lower back as your body rested against his toned chest. “this is where you belong darling”, he whispered into your ear as his free hand sat on your thing gently rubbing circles on your clothed skin.

toto continued talking to you, asking you questions about your life, your likes and dislikes, he wanted to know it all but your brain had gone to mush, you were sat on the lap of an incredibly attractive, powerful, older man. it was like all your dreams had come true and you did not know how to keep your composure.

“are you alright there darling”, he asked in between his questions and you nodded your head but it was clear that he was not satisfied with just a nod. his hand moved from your thigh to your chin tilting it upwards to look at him, “use your words doll, what are you thinking?”, he asked.

“i’m okay toto”, you spoke quietly, “this is just nice, i haven’t sat like this with anyone in a long time”

“i know darling”

his hand moved back to your thigh but this time on the one with the slit in your dress. his hand gently moved under the fabric and you gasped softly, you turned to look at him but he had craned his neck to kiss you. it took your breath away as you kissed him back just as passionately feeling his hand find your panties . he slowly pulled away to look at you, “you are beautiful doll”, he spoke as he moved his lips now moved to your neck kissing  up and down your skin as his hand moved your panties to the side.

“please”, you whimpered.

“please, what?”

“please touch me”

that was all the invitation that toto needed as his fingers quickly found your clit, his knee had wedged in between your thighs to keep them apart and he used the slit in your dress to allow his hands entry to your sensitive spot. His fingers rubbed at your clit, soft moans falling from your lips. toto was taking it all in, watching over your shoulder seeing the way your cunt was already glistening for him. god it drove him crazy. he wished he could just fuck you right there but he had other plans. toto moved your dress up to bunch it around your waist allowing him to wrap his arm under your leg, this allowed him to be able to push a finger into you and he could feel the way you clenched around his hand, oh he wished he could feel that on his cock. toto knew exactly what to do to pull those delicious moans from your lips as your head laid back against his shoulder. you were in such an intense feeling of bliss as you felt your orgasm begin creeping up on you.

“toto”, you warned

“i know schatzi, just let go for me”

and you did just that, coming undone your chest heaving up and down as you turned to kiss him, much softer this time, gentle, almost loving. you slowly pulled away. toto pulled your panties back over and your dress down.

“what about you?”, you questioned and he chuckled softly. “as much as i would love to take you to a room upstairs, we have a plane waiting for us, we are going to spain to visit ares del maestrat, you said you wanted to go so i am going to take you. so we can’t get too carried away here”, he spoke and your jaw fell to floor, so this was what real princess treatment felt like.

[littleoddwriter]

Special Little Lamb | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hey there! This fic is inspired by this textpost and @hibiskooks' tags, which led to further thoughts on my part and then the urge to turn them into a whole short story (hence why I linked my own reblog on my horror sideblog because it shows both our tags and the thought process). Understandably, it's a dark fic, albeit romantic this time, unlike my previous Cooper fic, hjdkhsjk! I hope you'll enjoy it! summary; You were once a captive of the Butcher, but as it so happened, you formed a deep connection with him and are now helping him with his victims. One of them tries to get through to you to help them out of the basement, but hadn't realised your status as the Butcher's favourite. You have a tattoo to prove it, though, and so does he. notes/warnings; Gender Neutral!Reader; Dark Fic; Reader used to be a Victim (still is, if you will); Reader most definitely has Stockholm Syndrome and is Morally Grey/Dark; Implied/Mentioned Murders; Active Captivity of a Female Victim; Abuser/Victim Relationship (if we're being realistic); Ableist Language (once); Partner Tattoos; Hints at Sexual Acitivity, but nothing Explicit whatsoever; Kissing.

With practised ease, you opened the several locks, and then the door they were a part of, down to the basement in the usually vacant house in a small neighbourhood on the outskirts of Philadelphia. The door opened with a loud squeak. You made a mental note to remind Cooper to oil the hinges, again. 

As if on cue, you could hear chains being dragged across the concrete floor and frantic rattling of metal against metal. 

Carefully, you went downstairs to the basement, where a woman in her thirties was held captive. She sat on the ground in the middle of the room, and the chains of her cuffs were attached to the far wall. 

“I’m a little late today, I know. Sorry,” you told her gently, shooting her an apologetic smile. 

For a long moment, she just looked at you, while you were walking over to her and then crouching across from her. And just like you did the previous times you visited her, you retrieved a protein bar and a small bottle of water from a bag, handing each item to her. 

The woman, Anna, ripped them out of your hands, scooting further away from you when she did, like a small, wild and scared animal. It was almost amusing to you. There was no reason for her to be scared of you, after all.

In silence, you watched her devour the protein bar and down the water in one go. You really had been late that day. 

Once she was done, you stood back up, picked up the trash and put it back into your bag. Cooper didn’t like to leave it there in the basement, and so you didn’t either. 

You were about to start your way upstairs again when the woman called out to you, “Wait!”

Turning around to face her, you made a small noise, indicating that you were listening.

“You don’t have to do any of this… please… just let me go. You could just unlock the cuffs and leave the door open. He doesn’t have to know! Please!” she pleaded with you, tears in her eyes and desperation clear in her voice, “I won’t tell anyone, okay? I promise. I won’t tell anyone that you’re involved.” 

This was the fifth time she begged you to let her go. She was more persistent than most of the others ever had been. Or maybe she’d just been there long enough to come up to five separate occasions of pleading for her life to be spared. 

Sighing softly, you shook your head, “No. I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” You crouched down across from Anna once more, making eye contact with her. Then, you pointed to the far edge of the ceiling above and behind you, looking back at her. “He has a camera here. He’d know if I helped you. And even if he wouldn’t… I’m not ruining this for him.”

Sometimes, Cooper liked to take his time with them. This having been one of them. Although, you knew that a lot of it had to do with his work. He had to do extra shifts and stay on call these past two weeks because they were short staffed at the firehouse, due to injuries that affected half of the regular team and rendered them unable to work for a while. 

It was only a matter of time until Cooper had the chance to commit several hours to this woman in front of you. But for the time being, you had to keep paying her visits to bring her snacks and drinks, and let her use the toilet in the back of the basement, just so she’d stay alive long enough. 

To keep them for more than a week was risky, though.

“Why are you doing this?” Anna asked you after a beat, changing tactics apparently, because this question was new. “I recognise you. I saw you on the news a few years ago. You went missing, too.”

Frowning, you let out a deep exhale, “I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not gonna work, so stop it.”

“What did he do to you? Is he forcing you?” she pressed anyway, unsurprisingly ignoring what you said.

Groaning softly in annoyance, you got up, stretching your back. You looked down at her, seeing nothing but a desperate woman, who was grasping at straws to ensure safety. Unfortunately for Anna, her pleas would only be ignored, since you had no interest in helping her.

“He’s not forcing me. I chose to stay and help,” you told her, then. 

For you, this was the end of this conversation, but Anna clearly wasn’t ready to let it stay that way, reaching out to you and gripping your wrists tightly, her chains clanking loudly. At the suddenness of all this, you flinched, trying to shake her off of you. 

“Let go of me!” you hissed at her.

“No! Listen to me,” she urged you, her grasp unexpectedly strong, “I don’t believe you. He must have convinced you that this is what you wanted, told you things, threatened you. Why would you ever willingly stay with a monster like him?”

“He’s not a monster!” you interrupted her, raising your voice at her.

Anna wasn’t deterred by it, though, “He kills people! Keeps them in this crappy basement until he’s done with them. He’s a monster. People don’t do that. And you know that he’ll get to you at some point, too.

“Do you really think that he’ll spare you forever? You might be useful to him now, but there’ll be a point where you make a mistake or he just gets bored of you. And I mean, why wouldn’t he? You’re nothing to him! He’ll find somebody else, somebody less damaged than you. And when he does, he’ll discard you, like you never meant anything. Because you don’t. Not to him.

“But if you help me out of here, we can go together. And we’ll get help, okay? He won’t hurt you anymore. You’ll be free, we both will,” she finished her little speech, breathing heavily, frantically, once she was done, and looking up at you with wild eyes, just hoping to get through to you.

There was no denying that she’d hit a nerve in you, but not in the way she had hoped.

Your brow twitched as you tried to keep your immediate rage at bay. 

Instead, you composed yourself with a couple of deep breaths, feeling Anna let go of your arms when she seemed to think that she was starting to achieve her goal with you. 

With a flourish, you pulled the long sleeve of your jacket up, exposing your inner left wrist to Anna’s questioning eyes, which widened almost instantly when she saw the tattoo on your skin. It was a black thin lined tattoo of a meat cleaver in front of a background that appeared almost ethereal, despite how minimalistic it was. But she quickly connected the dots. Cooper had a tattoo just like it, only that instead of a meat cleaver, it was a lamb at the centre. 

“I’m his favourite, you know? We got these tattoos about a year ago. He told me that he wanted something to represent me on his skin, as well, when I begged him to let me get a tattoo that would remind me of him. I didn’t ask him to get one, or make any sort of suggestion to wanting that. But he did it anyway. Because he wanted that reminder of me,” you explained the tattoos to Anna, who just looked at you in disbelief. 

With a pleased smile on your lips, you slid the sleeve back down to cover your arm again. 

“‘The Butcher’s little Lamb’ is what he told me when we got home after the tattoo appointment,” you told her softly with a wistful smile as you reminisced, “He let me go. But I stayed. I begged him to let me be useful to him. And he did, because I’m special to him.”

“You’re crazy,” Anna spat out in disgust at what she was hearing.

“And you’re nothing. To him, or me. Or anyone,” you retorted easily, “You see, in a few weeks, you’ll be nothing but a faint memory. And in a few months, you’ll be nothing but another number. And for me, you’ll be nothing but that beautiful bracelet you wore when he abducted you.”

This time, Anna had nothing more to say, it seemed, as she slumped back in defeat. You took the chance to finally pick your bag up again and go back upstairs, locking the door behind you to the sound of faint cries.

When you arrived at yours and Cooper’s house, you already saw his car in the driveway, making you feel excited to see him again. It was tough for you to be apart from him while he was working. 

Inside, you came to a sudden halt, though, seeing Cooper lean against the doorway to the foyer of your house, idly playing with his phone in his hands. You didn’t expect him to wait there for you, but instantly relaxed when you saw that he was smiling at you. It was one of his gentle smiles that always melted your heart, just like it did now.

“Hey, little Lamb,” he greeted you softly.

Feeling your heart flutter, your face brightened as you beamed at Cooper, walking over to him, as he pocketed his phone and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with a pleased expression.

“I heard what you were telling poor Anna there,” he whispered, “I thought I’d check on you two when I got home earlier, seeing as you weren’t here when you should have been.”

Averting your gaze in shame, you apologised, “I know, I’m sorry. I was cleaning the house and lost track of time, so I left later than usual. It won’t happen again.”

Cooper clicked his tongue quietly, using his left hand to gently take hold of your jaw and move your head to make you look back up at him. “Hey, it’s all right. I was just worried that something might’ve happened,” he told you soothingly.

There was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling you got when Cooper showed that you were important to him. 

“You did a good job, you know?” Cooper continued, then, still speaking in a soft, gravelly tone, “She was out of line with all those cruel things she said to you. And trust me, I’ll make her pay for it very soon. I promise. I’m proud of you for handling it the way you did.”

Those words had such an instantaneous effect on you, causing you to feel hot all over, warm and fuzzy inside your chest as your heart seemed to swell with pride. 

“Thank you,” you giggled happily, unable to contain your giddiness. 

Praise such as this wasn’t something you were used to, and Cooper wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t meant every word. You felt like you were on top of the world.

Cooper’s fingers were still gently wrapped around your jaw, now moving upward, his fingertips grazed your lips and cheeks before his palm settled and cupped your face. His dark eyes met yours. His gaze was soft, yet piercing nonetheless, and it took your breath away, just like it always did. There was no escape from his all-consuming presence. It was dominating your every sense.

Leaning his head further down, Cooper’s lips hovered above yours. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours as he spoke.

You couldn’t do anything but make an excited sound in the back of your throat, while your hands were tightly gripping his shirt, where you held onto him on his chest, right below his shoulders. 

Amused, Cooper breathed out a small chuckle before pressing his mouth against yours in a lovingly heated kiss that conveyed just what kind of reward he had in mind for you. You instantly melted into the kiss, reciprocating it as best as you could while your entire body and mind felt like they were on fire. Even after a couple of years of this, it never ceased to amaze and overwhelm you. 

And when you later lay in bed, bodies intertwined and in their most natural states, your finger was lazily and gently tracing the lines of the tattoo on Cooper’s right wrist. The tattoo that was a reminder, a representation of you, for him. You couldn’t suppress the smile when the happiness you associated with that rushed over you.  

“My special little Lamb,” Cooper whispered, watching your dreamy face as you kept tracing along the tattoo, and pressed another kiss to your temple and then your cheek and your lips again. This time, it was a gentle show of affection, which you happily accepted, soaking up every moment of it.

Soon, Anna would realise just how wrong she had been about you and Cooper.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hi again! I'm the one who asked if you write for aaron himself, anw the fic doesn't really need to be a smut. butzzzz, what if aaron x reader were childhood bffs and when they went to highschool, reader had a crush on aaron and reader's feeling for aaron lasted for years, but then after aaron's taping on nowhere boy, reader found out that aaron is dating s*m? then reader decided to cut off ties with aaron so reader can move on?????????? then after years years later reader is also now an actress and is starring on a romance film with aaron, as the film was in progress reader's feelings for aaron is slowly coming back, and on a specific scene for the movie, reader got carried away so she accidentally "confessed" to aaron even though it wasn't on the script then than made it. to the final cut😖🤙

A/n- hiii! Also love this sm anon!! Sorry it took so long, I’ve been super busy ): it’s kinda lengthy but I hope u like it

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

You and Aaron had been best friends, ever since you both were teenagers.

You both stayed with each other through the awkward growing up phase. You two used to be inseparable, and stayed like that until he started to film for nowhere boy, where he was playing John Lennon.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’re literally going to play John Lennon?” You asked, with a smile on your face as you talked to your friend.

He smiled back and nodded. You both continued to walk and talk, you talked about what you auditioned for and he talked about how he was excited to play in the movie.

You both were busy filming, you for a show and him for a movie. So you both had been a little distant, distracted.

You sighed when you flopped into the bed, tired and yawning. You were falling asleep, eyes shut and everything, when your phone goes off.

You groan and pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

He says your name, and you automatically knew it was Aaron.

“Aaron! Hi! Oh my god, I haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you? How’s the film?” You rubbed your eyes.

“Hi. Sorry if I woke you up or somethin’. Im alright. The filmings almost wrapped up. How about your show?”

“That’s good. Today was the last day, so hopefully it goes good.”

“Thats nice.”

There was an awkward silence for a while.

“ I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out this weekend. We haven’t talked and you know-“ his British accent cut through the silence thankfully.

“Yeah! I’d love to.” You said, more excited than you should’ve been.

“Great. I’ll text you everything tomorrow, thank you. Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Aaron.”

And you thought things would be great at lunch, but they got worse.

He told you about his new girlfriend, Sam. And you learned that she was older, way older than him. He had just turned an adult, so what the hell?

Of course, you’d been his best friend forever, and you’ve seen his girlfriends come and go, but this one was different, she was old, way too old for him, and the power imbalance was weird to you. The he mentioned how she was pregnant.

You tried to be supportive, but you couldn’t. When you got home, you cried into your pillow and blocked Aaron’s number.

It’s been two years now, and you had just got cast for Anna Karenina. You were playing the main character, and that’s when you found out Aaron was also on the movie, playing none other than your love interest.

The first day on set, you both were shocked to see each other. You glanced at him and he did the same, and quickly darted his eyes away.

Did he hate you? Did he feel bad?

He should, you thought bitterly. You looked over your lines, and after you were ready made your way to where it would be shot.

It was awkward for you and Aaron, both of you just continued to work professionally, however, on set.

It wasn’t until the dance scene that you realized how utterly in love you still were with him. It was a few days of filming now.

He kissed your hand, and you were gone. In terms of the movie and in reality.

You did as you practiced, but you’d practiced with someone else, and so has he. It was odd to be doing it with him.

You stared into his eyes. That’s when you realized in character and out of character, you were in love with him.

So you used that to make the scene better, he stared into your eyes the same way, but you brushed it off as acting.

The spotlight was on the both of you, and you couldn’t see anything but him.

Your palms were sweating, but so were his, you realized.

Once that scene was over, you both stared at each other for a moment in silence.

“Let’s take a break!” They said, and everyone went where they usually did.

It had been a long day. You both stayed staring for a good few seconds before you both opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry-“ you both apologized at the same time. You both smiled and laughed at that.

“I shouldn’t have blocked you.”

“And I shouldn’t have sprung everything on you at once.”

You both stayed silent for a moment again before you asked.

“How’s you and Sam..?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. Yeah. We’re good- fine.”

“And your baby..?”

He smiled at the mention “She’s good.”

“A girl, huh? What’s her name?”

He stared into your eyes again, with that same look as he did in the dance scene.

“Y/n.”

——————————————————————

And that’s how you were here now, months filming now. It was the scene were you told Vronsky, or Aaron, that your character was pregnant.

You were in a field, holding a parasol as you looked into the distance.

“Anna.” He said behind you.

You turned back, with a small smile present on your face, putting the parasol down.

“Alexei. What is it?”

“I couldn’t bear not to see you before the race.”

You smiled and practically ran into his arms, his hands rubbed your shoulders.

“What were you thinking about?”

His hand grabbed your jaw softly when you didn’t answer.

���Tell me.”

You stared into each others eyes. You passed for a moment before speaking.

“I’m pregnant.”

You stayed silent for a moment and waited for a reaction.

His face lit up, hand caressing your cheek.

“Oh, my love. Love was never a game to us. Here’s an end to living in corners. Existing days to days on lies. Now we can be together.” He laughed quietly.

For a second, you wished it was real.

“How can we, Alexei?”

“Tell him everything.”

“Do you think my husband will make you a present of me?”

“Leave him.”

“Leave him and be your mistress?”

“Yes. Run away.”

“I would never see my son again. The laws are made by husbands and fathers.”

He paused for a moment. Was that the only reason he was still with Sam?

“What then? I’ll never forgive myself for your unhappiness.”

“Unhappiness? I’m like a starving begged who’s been given food. I am happy. I love you. I could never be unhappy with you.” The last part slipped out on accident, it was not part of your lines.

His eyebrows raised, and you paused for a moment, looking at him for a reaction.

He leaned in, and you did as well. The kiss seemed genuine, not like the forced ones you’ve had while filming this movie. This felt real, full of actual passion and love.

The kiss went on for longer than expected, the people on set were eating every second of it up.

“Cut! Now that is how you act! Way to go, guys. Really great.”

Your cheeks burned up as you realized what had happened, you looked at Aaron and he smiled softly.

You both talked for a while, you both trying to ignore what happened earlier.

“Did you mean what you said earlier..?” He asked suddenly, right before you were about to enter your car to leave.

Your eyes widened, and you paused, and turned to look at him as he walked closer to you.

“Aaron-“

“I need to know.”

Y-yeah. I meant it. I didn’t mean to say it. And I know that you have-“

His lips crashed against yours while you tried to explain, it was passionate, and just like the one from the confession.

“I love you. I always have, y/n.” He mumbled quietly, hand on your jaw.

[peakyswritings]

Of Biscuits and Memories || Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: During one of their nightly talks, Nina shares with Tommy way more than just biscuits as old memories rise to the surface.

Warnings: mentions of loss of a loved one, no proofreading, English is not my first language.

A/N: written for @look-at-the-soul ‘s grandma’s series. Again, this was such a beautiful way to honour your grandma, and I’m sorry I’m so late🤍

Nina is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul. This takes place somewhere between chapter 4 and 5. It can be read as a standalone. It’s also linked to this moodboard and this post.

Word count: 1.1k

Read CH. 6 HERE.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

“Here.” A plate full of biscuits was put on the table in front of Tommy with a thud, the inviting smell immediately filling his nostrils. “Try them.”

Tommy’s lips slightly curled up at one corner, and once again he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her. Putting on his most serious expression, he squinted his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

In the dim light of the kitchen, a glimpse of mischief shone in Nina’s dark eyes as a grin threatened to make its way on her face. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips as he shook his head. They looked delicious, he had to admit. And even though he’d never been a big eater, observing the biscuits he couldn’t help but feel his mouth almost water. Eventually, he grabbed one of the biscuits to take a bite. The pastry easily crunched between his teeth, contrasting with the sweet cherry jam that melted on his tongue. They were delicious. And Nina must’ve noticed the appreciation in his expression, because a smug smile appeared on her face.

“They’re good.”

“It’s my grandma’s recipe. She used to make them all the time, when I was a child,” she explained, her gaze softening at the memory.

When Tommy had met her two weeks prior, Nina hadn’t seemed to him the kind of woman who would make heart-shaped biscuits in her free time. But he had soon realised there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. And somewhere deep inside of him, he was glad he was getting to slowly unravel her night after night, talk after talk, discovering the hidden parts she seemed to hide from everyone else. It felt like a privilege.

“Tell me about her.”

12 years before

“Can you make them heart-shaped?” the ten-year-old chirped, resting her head on her hands while her legs swung back and forth under the table.

Casting a fake scolding look at her granddaughter, Anna Ferrante poured some flour on the table. “Wouldn’t you rather play with your cousins?”

Nina glanced out of the window, a sad expression crossing her face for a mere second as she watched the other girls chasing each other, their laughter echoing in the big garden. “No,” she shook her head, seemingly recomposing herself. “I’d rather stay with you.”

She brought her gaze back on her grandmother, and observed her wrinkled hands skilfully work the dough. She had always enjoyed watching her cook and bake. There was something hypnotising in the way she added and mixed the ingredients, taking simple elements to give them another shape and create something entirely new. It was as if she was pouring her whole soul into it every time. “Why did you put the flour on the table?” she furrowed her brows.

“So the dough won’t stick to it,” the old woman patiently explained, rolling out the pastry with a rolling pin. “You want to help me?” she asked her granddaughter, handing her a small glass to cut the dough.

Nina’s eyes shone with delight and a big smile lit up her features, showing two dimples at the corner of her lips. Happy to be useful in some way, she quickly grabbed the glass.

“Watch first,” her grandma said before starting to form the first biscuit. “You can use a little spoon to carve a heart inside the dough, after you’ve shaped it. But don’t press too hard,” she instructed, showing her step by step what she was supposed to do. When she was done, she placed the biscuit on a baking pan. “We’ll put the jam when they’re out of the oven, they’re better like that.”

Taking the task seriously, Nina started to carefully shape the biscuits under her grandma’s watchful gaze, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Anna Ferrante took advantage of her granddaughter’s help to slow down. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and the things she once used to do with great ease were turning out to be rather tiring tasks. But at the same time, her heart clenched at the thought that Nina felt so out of place with the girls her age that she preferred to spend her time inside. And although her eyesight had lost its sharpness under the weight of the years, she wasn’t blind. Her blurred pupils could perfectly see how much of an outcast she was in her own family.

She was a special child. She had a sweetness to her, a sensitivity that couldn’t be described as anything else but disarming. And it scared her as just as much as it amazed her. Because Nina was good, and the world wasn’t kind, and she would find out way too soon.

“Maybe when we’re done you can go play with your cousins,” the older woman tried again, not wanting to think that her granddaughter actually wished to be on her own.

“They say I’m dark and weird,” Nina shrugged, as if to shake away those words. But then some emotion crossed her eyes, as if doubt was slowly taking root in her mind, and she stopped what she was doing to look up at her. “Do you think I am?”

Anna Ferrante’s lips curved in a sad smile as she shook her head in negation. But watching her granddaughter’s doubtful expression, she was hit by the awareness that she saw and noticed way more than she let on. Without saying a word, she took a napkin and wiped some flour off the child’s nose. Too sensitive, too smart for her own good.

“You’re not weird. And you’re not dark,” she said, looking right in the little girl’s eyes. “You are the sun, Nina. Don’t forget that.”

“Well, it’s gotten late,” Nina spoke after a moment of silence, looking at the clock on the wall. Until then, she had never talked about her grandmother, the pain of her loss had always been too strong for her to even name her. But it wasn’t pain she had felt, while remembering things she had buried deep inside her mind. It was gratefulness. Because she had known her and loved her, and she had been loved by her. Nothing could take that away from her, not even death.

However, there was another kind of grief that kept on raising to the surface, no matter how hard she tried to push it back down. Sometimes she mourned the little girl she used to be. That little girl was not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was not afraid to be soft. She did not hide herself behind a mask of indifference. A useless mask, because pretending not to care about anything didn’t make the pain any less real. She had butchered that little girl, and reserved her no mercy.

If her grandmother were still there, would she still think she was the sun?

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[parkerslatte]

Until The Flowers Wilt

Matthew Fairchild x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none. allusions to sex.

Summary: Y/N and Matthew have been friends for years. Everyone can see what the two feel for each other - everyone except Y/N and Matthew it seems.

Shadowhunter Chronicles Masterlist

•••

“Math,” James said as he watched his parabatai stare out of the window once again. “She’s going to be here soon, you don’t need to keep watch.”

Matthew’s gaze lingered out of the window for a moment longer before he turned to face James. “I’m not keeping watch.”

“Your face is practically glued to the window,” James pointed out. “She’s not meant to be here for another hour.”

“But what is she comes early?” Matthew scoffed. “She’ll be locked out in the cold.”

“I’m sure she will knock on the door,” James said, rolling his eyes. 

By the time James had managed to coax Matthew away from the window seat, there was a knock on the door. Matthew immediately shot to his feet from the seat he had only just sat down in. 

“I’ll get it,” Matthew announced before he began to exit the living area. 

Cordelia appeared in front of him and placed a hand on his chest, halting his movements. “I’ll get it.”

Matthew let out a huff and took a few steps back as Cordelia left to greet the guest. James watched Matthew carefully as he rocked back on his heels watching the doorway. He had always seen the way Matthew acted around Y/N, and vice versa. It seemed to James that everyone could see what the two felt for one another, he even had long discussions with Cordelia about it while they should have been sleeping or doing something else. 

When Y/N finally stepped into the room with a wide smile on her face she was instantly wrapped in a hug by Matthew. Initially she was shocked to be quite literally swept off her feet, but once she relaxed and recovered her arms wrapped around Matthew just as tightly. 

“Don’t go away again,” Matthew mumbled into her hair.

Y/N chuckled. “I was only gone for two weeks!”

Matthew pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and pulled away from the hug, though he still kept his arms around her. “It was still too long for me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully before stepping away from Matthew and wrapped James in a quick hug. “It’s good to see you too, Jamie.”

James smiled at Y/N as she took her place next to Matthew, unconsciously leaning into him. Matthew’s arm rested on her lower back, tugging her closer. The two shared a smile, seemingly lost within each other’s eyes. 

From where Cordelia was leaning against the doorway, just behind Matthew and Y/N, James caught her eye and the two shared a knowing look before James spoke up, interrupting Matthew and Y/N from whatever trance they had put the other in. 

***

It was a nice day when everyone sat together on a picnic blanket enjoying the sun. Matthew and Y/N were seemingly late everyone had noticed. The two hadn’t even sent word of their absence. 

“Did they mention anything to you?” Thomas asked James.

James shook his head. “Matthew only told me that he would pick Y/N up in his carriage at midday.”

“Ah,” Anna spoke up, her gaze fixated over Thomas’s shoulder. “There they are now, only…” she checked her watch, “two hours late.”

When Matthew and Y/N approached, her arm was linked with his and she carried a large bouquet of flowers. Matthew’s gaze was planted firmly on her as she smiled brightly at everyone. 

“Sorry we’re late!” Y/N said. “Instead of taking the carriage, we decided to walk because it would be a shame to waste the sunshine while sitting inside a dark and dreary carriage.”

“Where did the flowers come from?” Anna questioned, a teasing tone in her voice. 

“Oh,” Y/N exclaimed as if she suddenly remembered she was holding them. “We walked past a florist and had a look inside. Matthew purchased these for me for my new flat!”

“They look expensive.”

“They were,” Y/N said. “That’s why I plan to pay him back soon.”

Matthew sent a glare her way. “You will do no such thing!”

Y/N looked up at him and grinned lazily. “Watch me.”

Matthew held her gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes playfully and sat himself down on the picnic blanket. As Y/N was about to be beside him, Matthew easily pulled her down so she sat in front of him, her back resting against his chest.

“Careful!” Y/N said. “You’ll crush the flowers.”

Matthew’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind. “Then I will just have to buy you more.”

Y/N turned her head to look at him. “You will do no such thing.”

Matthew’s head tilted towards her’s. Their faces were close but neither of the two acknowledged it, nor did they acknowledge all of the looks sent their way. Some of knowing, some of confusion and some of desperation. All they focussed on was each other. 

“Won’t I?” Matthew mumbled. 

“You won’t,” Y/N said, her gaze never leaving his eyes.

Matthew smiled. His nose brushed hers. “I will always buy you flowers because every beautiful thing deserves to be owned by the most beautiful woman.”

Y/N’s eyes widened the smallest amount. Her gaze remained on his eyes though her hand tightened on his wrapped around her waist. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course I do,” Matthew said, kissing the tip of her nose before pulling his face away.

Y/N smiled as she reached forward to pick up a sandwich before relaxing fully against Matthew. 

Everyone around them resumed their conversation but everyone noticed how Y/N intertwined her fingers with Matthew’s and how whenever Y/N shuffled or moved the slightest bit, Matthew’s gaze fell to her, full of love. 

***

It was late at night when Matthew and Y/N had finally finished decorating Y/N’s flat. It had been a dreary day and with nothing else to do, Y/N contacted Matthew to help with her decorating. Matthew was knocking on her door not even fifteen minutes later. 

Matthew was sitting on the couch while Y/N came in with two mugs of tea in her hands and placed them down on the table in front of them. The two sat side by side while the fireplace roared. 

“Thank you for helping me today,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence. “It would have been a boring day without you.”

Matthew smiled at the ceiling. “I’m glad I could help. And I’m happy you asked me.”

“There is no one else I would ask,” Y/N said. “Except maybe Thomas, he could easily reach the top of my bookshelf without using a chair.”

Matthew rolled his eyes and rested his head on Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N rested her head on top of his. 

“My favourite decoration is still the flowers you bought me,” Y/N said. “Even if they are a little wilted by now.”

Matthew glanced over at the flowers she had put in a vase, one that Matthew had also bought her when she first moved into her flat. 

“I will need to buy you more,” Matthew said. “And I don’t want to hear you object, because I will buy you more every single time the previous flowers begin to wilt.”

“You are impossible,” Y/N muttered. 

“But you love me for it,” Matthew said. 

Y/N didn’t respond but she smiled. 

Matthew intertwined his fingers with hers before he lifted his head from her shoulder. “Dance with me.”

“What?” Y/N questioned. 

Matthew stood up, pulling Y/N up with him. “Dance with me.”

“But there’s no music,” Y/N questioned as Matthew brought her into the centre of her living room. 

“Who cares,” Matthew said before he wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulled her against his chest as the two simply swayed in the middle of the room. The only sound was the crackling fire. 

Y/N had been close to Matthew before but there had usually been plenty of other people around. Now with only the two of them she felt her heart begin to beat rapidly. 

Unbeknownst to her, Matthew was flustered. He hadn’t known what overcame him when he asked her to dance. Only that he had an overcoming urge to be close to her and hold her within his arms. 

The fire crackled as the two continued to sway in the middle of the living room. Neither of the two were sure how long it had been since they had started. They were too wrapped up within one another to notice how much time had passed. 

Matthew moved his head from where it had been looking over her shoulder to rest against Y/N’s forehead. She was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Everyday he would wake up and his first thought would be of her and how her hair looked in the sunlight. He would think of how she smiled when she was happy or found something mildly amusing. He thought of her kindness, her intelligence, her humour. He also thought of her touch and they way she always sought him out in a crowd. The way she would lean into him or link his arm while walking. The way she would mess his hair up when he did something mildly irritating. She was the only person he ever let do that. 

Matthew’s eyes closed as he began to lean into Y/N, his breath mixing with hers. There was the smallest brush of his lips against hers and Matthew already craved more. He moved his hands to cup her cheeks and fully pressed his lips against Y/N’s. He nearly felt his heart explode. 

Y/N tensed her whole body as soon as Matthew’s lips touched hers. The feeling wasn’t an unwelcome one but it was a shocking one. She didn’t move and let her hands drop down by her sides. Her brain was stalling her to kiss him back but her body wasn’t cooperating. 

Matthew’s lips detached from hers, his eyes dark but blown wide as he realised what he just did. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Matthew took several steps back from Y/N. “I’ll just go.”

Y/N watched him leave the room without another word. She called out to him but he didn’t reply. It was only when she heard her front door open and prompty close when her body finally allowed her to move. 

She was at her doorway in an instant and swung open the door, not bothering with putting shoes or a jacket on. Luckily her flat was situated on the ground floor so Y/N was immediately opening the front door. It was pouring rain but she didn’t care, stepping outside barefoot and bare armed into the cold rain. She saw Matthew not too far ahead, his hand in the pockets of his trousers, his white shirt completely soaked through. In his haste to leave he hadn’t picked up his jacket. 

“Matthew!” Y/N called while rushing down the street, stones dug into her feet but she didn’t care. The only thing on her mind was Matthew. 

Matthew stopped and turned, he frowned as Y/N ran up to him. “What are you doing out here, Y/N? Go back inside.”

“No,” Y/N said. “You kissed me.”

Matthew sighed and avoided eye contact. “Can we just forget about that? I shouldn’t have done it and now I’ve ruined everything.”

Y/N shook her head. “‘Ruined everything’? How did you ruin everything?” 

Matthew ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “You didn’t kiss me back. I think that’s a clear enough answer for me.” Matthew turned to walk away.

“Because you didn’t give me a chance!” Y/N exclaimed. “You were pulling away and leaving before I ever got the chance to respond. I was shocked and confused. I think deep down I knew what I felt for you. I think it was easier for me to just mask it as a close friendship because I was scared you would never love me the way I love you.”

Matthew stilled before slowly turning to face her. “What do you mean, Y/N?”

“By the angel, you can be so stupid sometimes!”

Before Matthew had the chance to respond, Y/N clutched onto the front of his shirt and pulled him down to press her lips against his. The rain continued to pour around them but they didn’t care. Not when Matthew’s hands rested on her hips. Y/N felt the heat from his palms through the thin gown she wore, now completely drenched and clinging to her body. 

Y/N’s arms moved from clutching Matthew’s shirt to wrap around his shoulder’s her hand resting on the back of his head deepening the kiss. Matthew let out a small noise as his fingertips dug into Y/N’s hips pulling her closer until her body was flush with his. 

Matthew pulled away first and rested his forehead against Y/N’s breathing heavily. “Tell me what that meant.”

“Are you really-”

“I already know,” Matthew said. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N smiled. “I am in love with you, Matthew Fairchild.”

Matthew pressed his lips against Y/N’s. It was brief but it told Y/N everything she needed to know. 

“I want to hear you say it too,” Y/N muttered against his lips.”

“I. Love. You.” Matthew said, kissing her in between each word. “I will love you until I let any bouquet of flowers die.” Matthew pressed a soft kiss against the tip of her nose. “So now you cannot deny me when I buy them for you.”

The two stood with their arms wrapped around one another in the middle of the downpour, smiles on their faces. It wasn’t until Y/N shivered that the two broke whatever bubble they had been in. 

“We should get back inside,” Y/N said. “There is a warm fire. Two cups of tea still not finished and…” Y/N leaned up to whisper in his ear. “A warm bed.”

Matthew smirked before he lifted Y/N up in his arms. She laughed in delight. “I am not opposed to that idea.”

***

The next morning everyone was waiting outside of Y/N’s flat. The previous day she had invited them all over to celebrate her moving into her new home.

“Is she even home?” Lucie asked. 

“It’s Y/N,” Anna said. “When she makes plans, she sticks to them.”

“We’ve been waiting here for half an hour,” Thomas said. “Maybe she’s forgotten.”

Cordelia sighed before she pulled a key out of her bag. “Y/N gave me a key to her flat for emergencies.”

“But this isn’t an emergency,” James said. 

“It may not be,” Cordelia said unlocking the door. “But I would like to know where Matthew is.”

The group looked around at one another, only noticing that Matthew wasn’t there.

“Y/N?” Cordelia announced as she stepped into her flat. 

“Cordelia?” Matthew said, appearing from the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee. He was shirtless and his trousers hung low on his waist. Cordelia averted her gaze. 

“Y/N invited us to see her flat,” Cordelia said as everyone entered the flat behind her. 

They all looked at Matthew. They all shared a look with one another but no one looked the slightest bit surprised. 

“Matthew!” Y/N said, her footsteps padding down the hallway. “Could you help me with this, I can’t get it to stay in place.”

Y/N appeared in the living room, only wearing a white shirt. Y/N let out a noise of surprise when she noticed everyone standing in her living room. 

Matthew placed the two mugs of coffee down before moving to shield Y/N’s body with his own. 

“You can all make yourselves at home,” Y/N said as he and Matthew began to walk down the hallway. “We will be out in a minute.”

The group waited until they heard Y/N’s door close before laughing.

“It was about time,” James said, sitting on the couch and wrapped an arm around Cordelia, a wide smile on his face.

[ingravinoveritas]

craftyballoonwinner mentioned you on a post "anna always got to prove to us she still got her…”

I can't wait for @nightgoodomens and @ingravinoveritas takes on today. Something happened and while I'm happy to not have GM around the fact it was MS&DT ALL night makes my eyebrows raise.

@craftyballoonwinner It has taken me the last few days to process everything that happened on Friday, because to say that I am floored by what we got is a tremendous understatement.

We knew that Michael had been in London and had specifically gotten a house in Chiswick close to David's house since November of last year, for his run in Nye at the National Theatre. We knew that the second run in Cardiff ended on June 1st and that as soon as it did, Michael immediately came back to London. We knew that--schedules and work/family commitments allowing--they were likely spending a great deal of time together (despite only seeing three pictures of them over the course of that entire interval: The Macbeth photo, the blurry pic that Anna posted back in November, and the photo from Lapland last December).

The smallest pieces, flashes of something beautiful and bright yet still obscured, ensconced from public view. So much so that I never in a million years expected Michael to come to Pub in the Park--hoped, certainly, but the thought of it actually happening seemed like a distant dream, a dazzling impossibility.

But this past Friday was just...so extraordinary and lovely precisely because it was ordinary. It wasn't a press junket or an interview or Michael and David promoting something...it was just them. The two of them together, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. It was there even in the first picture I saw, and it permeated through every clip, every moment of them at the event:

The smiles. The ease and comfort they have around each other. The effortless love that just exists between Michael and David, and that is tangible in every dimension, as much on a screen as in real life. And when they were on stage together, it wasn't even that they played off each other so well--it was that Michael's last minute appearance didn't cause either of them to lose so much as a step. It was that you just knew that they couldn't have put any other two people up on that stage without prior planning and had that same chemistry, that charm and familiarity. And it was just so damn wonderful to see Michael and David looking so happy and joyful overall.

As for what happened with Georgia, I am just more confused than anything else. For the last month and a half, Georgia heavily promoted PitP, and both she and David billed her as a co-host. Every flyer, every piece of promotion that was shared (both by the PitP social media and Georgia) mentioned her as a co-host, along with David. She even did an interview on the Gaby Roslin podcast with David and Arabella Weir where she was again specifically referred to as a co-host and admitted not knowing her own Instagram handle, as well as saying that she would be active on Insta during the PitP event.

There is a strange irony to the podcast as well, given that David actually said "We're failing our hosting duties right here!" in the above linked clip, and what seemed like a joke at the time actually came to pass. For whatever reason, Georgia failed in her duty, the job that she signed up to do. Had it been because of all the attacks that David was a target of over the past week after the blow-up with Kemi Badenoch, Rishi Sunak, and the entire Tory party, that would have made sense. I would have completely understood if Georgia, who had also been targeted in those attacks, was feeling anxious or worried about her/the kids' safety and elected to stay home instead.

However...Georgia didn't stay home. She actually was at the event, as were several of their kids (Ty and Olive, from what I've seen). She was there, drinking and dancing, and somehow that made her abdication of co-hosting duty even more conspicuous and strange. It also makes it increasingly obvious that Michael's appearance on stage was a last minute occurrence and not part of the original plan of events.

So what actually happened? I don't know. None of us know, and it's likely we won't know until a later time, if ever. But in the real world, if you are given a job to do, if a contract is signed with a written agreement to do that job and you don't do the job, there are consequences. At the very least, it can negatively affect someone's reputation and reduce the likelihood of them receiving offers for future jobs. On the other end, you could be looking at potential lawsuits for things like breach of contract. And none of this even gets into disappointed fans or attendees who might've been hoping to see Georgia host and who could possibly now claim to be victims of false advertising because she didn't.

It also feels like a huge missed opportunity on the part of PitP, who could have potentially raised hundreds or even thousands of pounds more for charity had Michael been booked as a co-host, or even a guest. Regardless of whether Michael was there in an official capacity, though, I am just glad that he was there, and that we got to see the two of them together again.

The night may have lacked the glitz and formal glamour of the NTAs, but it more than made up for it with the relaxed domesticity we got to see between Michael and David. And now that Michael is hanging around London a bit longer, hopefully there will be many more memorable nights like this to come.

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfam x M reader hwere the reader is Bruce's older brother, who decided to move away from Gotham after a really big fight between him and Bruce (before Dick was adopted) Bruce wanted to reach out, but never really did because he thought the reader hated him. At some point the reader decided to come back to Gotham and meet with Bruce because he got married and had a kid, but his partner died and he needed support + his kid wanted to know about their uncle. Now total shock on the batfam part because they have an uncle??? And Bruce didn't tell them??? Now they try to build a relationship, but Bruce is still a bit distant because he feels guilty

Oh, this screams angst and fluff at the same time, aaah. Also, 1.5k followers, thank you everyone. My questionable writing is nice and good it seems.

Summary: Bruce's and (Y/N)'s relationship broke down. (Y/N) reaches out.

Warnings: fluff, angst and all in between.

(Y/N) wiped his tears yet again. He lost his husband a month or so ago and it wasn't easy by any means. They had adopted a little girl a few years ago and they named her Anna. She is an adorable little girl and a smart one too. But kids are always perceptive in certain ways. (Y/N) put the photos of his husband down and turned to the little patter of feet coming towards him.

He turned to his little girl, putting her in his lap while they sat on the couch quietly. (Y/N) smiled at his daughter, but just that made him hurt. But he needed to be strong for his little girl. She needed a strong parent right now, more than anything in the world. That was something that she needed.

Not weakness. Anna was hurting too and she needed nothing but support... But (Y/N) needs his support too. He needs someone to turn too. He can only be strong for so long. And not to mention, there were so many bills to pay and he didn't know how... Oh dear God.

" Hey honey, can't sleep? " (Y/N) asked his daughter, who nodded yawning.

" Yeah... I miss papa. " She said quietly and (Y/N) took everything in him to not break down in front of his daughter.

" I miss papa too honey. "

" Can you tell me more about uncle Bruce? " Anna asked in her innocent childlike way, not knowing how complex the situation was. (Y/N) didn't blame her in the slightest, wanting to know more about your family is something normal. Even though you are a child and adopted one too, wanting to know more makes (Y/N)'s heart even warmer.

" Well, your uncle Bruce is my younger brother. " (Y/N) started, smiling at his daughter, despite the pain he felt. Bruce was always a sore subject for him. Deep down inside he loved Bruce, but the fight they had broke that love. He adjusted his daughter in his arms and continued.

" He is brave, courageous. Annoying sometimes, but that's normal. Everyone is a little bit annoying sometimes. " (Y/N) said, making Anna giggle, for the first time in a few days.

" Why he never comes? " Anna asked and (Y/N)'s heart was hit with sorrow and pain.

" We don't like one another. Sometimes adults don't like each other and don't speak about it. " (Y/N) said and Anna tilted her head in wonder and curiosity.

" Why? "

" Adults are complex. Complicated. " (Y/N) explained and the little girl hummed, tilting her head.

" Really dad? "

" Yes love. " (Y/N) responds and she simply gets out of his lap to look at the pictures of her papa. She sighed quietly and glanced back at her dad.

" I want to meet uncle Bruce. " Anna stated and (Y/N)'s heart started beating faster and faster. He doesn't really want to. He doesn't want to open up those old wounds...

Would Bruce even want to meet her?

" I can try honey. " (Y/N) swallowed and Anna's smile was worth it. Really worth the anxiety and the stress he is about to go through. And maybe he needs family in this situation.

Support sounds great right now.

" Thank you dad. " Anna said and left to go back to her room. (Y/N) smiled. Bruce would love her.

But (Y/N) isn't going to like this.

That next morning, Anna went to kindergarten and (Y/N) has decided to call Bruce to set up a meeting. He can't just come by unannounced, even though the manor is also his, he just can't. It would be rude, considering the fact that Bruce had four boys, one biological it seems.

And Bruce took over the Wayne Enterprises too, so he must be busy. And being Batman too is not an easy feat. But around 10 am, (Y/N) called Bruce, nervous and anxious beyond belief. This is not something he would have done if it weren't for the fact that his daughter asked him too.

" (Y/N)? " It rang out in (Y/N)'s ear and (Y/N) took a deep breath.

" Yes, it's me B. " (Y/N) answered, using an old nickname from their childhood.

" It has been what, 5 years... " Bruce hesitated and (Y/N) let out a little yeah in response.

" How is life? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) teared up for a second before calming down.

" My husband passed away recently. " (Y/N) said and the silence was loud.

" I'm sorry to hear that... I didn't know you got married... " Bruce said and (Y/N) winced quietly.

" Yeah... It was small. We also adopted a little girl. " (Y/N) said and he swore he heard a deep breath on the other side.

" A nice change. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chuckled. A joke about the fact that Bruce has all boys... It's nice to joke around.

" And Anna wants to meet her uncle Bruce. "

" You talked to her about me? "

" Yup. She was curious. " (Y/N) answered and Bruce chuckled again. " And I need help... I feel like I'm drowning. " (Y/N) said, wiping his tears.

" What do you mean? " Bruce asked, wanting more explanation.

" I'm drowning in bills and I need some emotional support. And I don't want to seem like I'm calling for money, but- " (Y/N) started rambling, but Bruce cut him off.

" Don't. I know you didn't call for money. Besides, that's your money too. "

" Well, I lived humbly for so long, I forgot I was rich I guess. " (Y/N) chuckled quietly, sitting down on the couch in the process.

" I guess so... If you need help, I'll... I'll be more than happy to help. " Bruce offered, but (Y/N) sensed something more. But none the less, he decided to leave it be for now. " You can even move back with Anna. You know the manor has more than enough room. " Bruce offered and (Y/N) hesitated.

" Well... I would have to move Anna's kindergarten... And all that stuff." (Y/N) started and Bruce cur him off yet again.

" Don't worry about that now. You and your daughter need to have a stable environment. So drop by the manor. You can meet your nephews too. "

" It wouldn't be a bad idea. "

And that's how (Y/N) and Anna went to the Wayne Manor, the little girl being excited in the backseat of the car. She let out a sound of pure surprise when she saw the manor in it's full glory. " This is where uncle Bruce lives?! " She yelled and (Y/N) chuckled as he parked the car inside the manor yard.

" Is it true I have cousins? " She asked as (Y/N) quickly left the car and then moved to unbuckle her. She quickly ran out and (Y/N) sighed.

" Not so fast young lady! " (Y/N) yelled after her and the girl stopped, smiling at her dad, taking his hand as they walked up to the door. (Y/N) rang the bell, waiting for Alfred to open up. Oh God, this is weird to be here yet again after these 5 years.

Alfred quickly opened up with a smile and gave (Y/N) a tight hug.

" Oh I missed you master (Y/N). " Alfred said and (Y/N) nodded.

" You talk funny. " Anna said and Alfred chuckled, leaning down to look at the little girl.

" That's right, I do. Now come on miss, lets meet your cousins. " He said as he led the little girl inside, who was giggling happily. (Y/N) took a deep breath to compose himself before entering the manor, the place where his life started and changed so many times. He walked inside, breath hitching at the sight of his nephews, both adopted three and one biological, who looked just liked Bruce at that age...

It's just eerie...

He was caught off guard by a sudden hug from the oldest son by the looks of it. (Y/N) huffed from the force, but patted the back of the oldest son.

" I'm Dick, nice to meet you. " Dick said once he pulled away, a big smile on his face as he was shaking his hand with a firm shake.

" (Y/N), nice to meet you too. " (Y/N) said quietly, quickly glancing at Anna who was talking to Bruce quietly. Bruce seemed gentle with her and that's more than enough to ease his heart.

" I'm Tim. " Tim introduced himself to his uncle and (Y/N) noted to himself how tired Time looked, but maybe it's due to the fact that he was a vigilante. But something else was off, but that's something for another time.

" Jason... How come Bruce never told us about you? " Jason asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders.

" We... Didn't end up on a good note... I guess guilt and anger. " (Y/N) says and Bruce listened from his spot with Anna, who was just talking away.

Jason hummed and moved to allow Damian to say hello to his blood uncle.

" Uncle. You look different than I imagined. " Damian said in his voice and (Y/N) swore it really was Bruce at age...

" Damian. You are a copy of your father. " (Y/N) noted and glanced at his daughter for a second, seeing how Bruce was holding Anna in his arms.

" I know, I've been told that. " Damian responded shortly. Just like Bruce. Jesus. It's eerie beyond belief.

" Anna, do you like books? " Bruce asked her and she nodded happily. Bruce turned to (Y/N) and his boys. " Can the boys take her to the library? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) knew that they had to talk about their relationship. What to do now and all that.

" Sure. " (Y/N) said and the boys, including Alfred, led the little girl to the library. She was so happy, just giggling, not even a sense of her father's turmoil.

" Can we go outside? I need a smoke. " (Y/N) said, taking his pack out already. Bruce simply opened the terrace door that lead to the garden, where they sat down.

(Y/N) lit up his cigarette and took a long drag, trying to ease his nerves. He let the smoke out and glanced at Bruce.

" This is weird... "

" I know. Look, you can always come back home. " Bruce said dryly and (Y/N) noticed the distance. Noticed the look.

" Look... We were stupid to fight like that... And you are not to blame... I am to blame too... " (Y/N) said as he took a long drag.

" No, it was me. All on me. " Bruce said, looking at the garden ahead, refusing to look at his brother from guilt.

" Don't say that... I think we need to repair our relationship. For your boys and for my daughter. And us too. I do miss my little annoying brother. "

Bruce didn't respond and just sighed.

" Don't blame yourself. " (Y/N) said as he blew the smoke yet again. " Do you want me to move back? Anna would like that. And it would make things easier for me too. " (Y/N) said quietly, finishing his cigarette in the ashtray.

" Don't be distant Bruce. "

Bruce sighed yet again. It was hard not to be distant in this situation. Especially when you think you are at fault for the fight.

" I would love to meet my niece more and try to be that fun uncle. I want to take some of your stress too. Some burdens off too. " Bruce said, still looking away.

He couldn't even look (Y/N) in the eyes.

(Y/N) just sighed. They really had a long way to go.

[ejzah]

Suggested by @mashmaiden to continue the Houseguest Drabble Series. It’s quite long.

***

Deeks: This is getting ridiculous.

Kensi, in a soothing tone: I know, baby, but it won’t be that much longer.

Deeks, not soothed at all: Really? Cause it already feels like it’s been forever. Look, you know I love Anna and Callen, and at any other time, I’d probably love to have them here, but I we have no room, it’s been two days, and the twins are starting to babble in Russian.

Kensi, putting a hand on his arm: Sweetie, calm down. I don’t think babies can learn another language in 48 hours.

Deeks: Callen is very determined. *he takes a deep breath and rub s his hands over his face* I’m sorry. I’m just tired and need some caffeine. Donut and Croissant were feeling extra social last night.

Kensi, grimacing: I know. I heard you get up a lot. Let’s go see if there’s any coffee left.

They find Callen, Anna, and Rosa in the kitchen.

Anna: Good morning. Thank you again for letting us stay another night.

Kensi: You’re welcome. I hope the twins didn’t wake you up too much.

Anna: I brought ear plugs.

Callen, pouring them each a coffee: And you know I don’t sleep much.

Deeks, nodding: So…any updates.

Callen: Arkady’s not answering my texts.

Deeks, in exasperation: Alright, that’s it.

Kensi: What are you doing?

Deeks, halfway out of the kitchen: Taking care of this once and for all. *then on reconsideration, he grabs a bottle of alcohol on the way out*

***

Deeks: Arkady! Open the door.

The door pops open a crack and a sliver of Arkady’s face appears.

Arkady: Deeks, what are you doing here?

Deeks, shouldering his way in: Here, I brought you a housewarming gift.

Arkady, quirking an eyebrow at the wine: This is not my house.

Deeks: Exactly. Where are Yuliana and my mom?

Arkady: They are in back. I believe they mentioned something about lunch. Though I have not been considered in a plans.

Deeks, heading for the back door: Wonderful.

He finds Roberta and Yuliana happily chatting and relaxing on lawn chairs.

Yuliana, instantly wary when she sees him: Berta, who is this?

Roberta, sitting forward: It’s my my son, Martin. Marty, what’s going on? Is something wrong?

Deeks, holding up a hand: No, mama. Nothing’s wrong. Well, assuming you consider seven people sharing one bathroom not wrong. Did you notice the homeowners of this home are missing in action?

Roberta, shrugging: Hey, I didn’t make them leave.

Deeks: No, you just made them extremely uncomfortable with your fighting and death threats via sewing needle.

Arkady, from behind Deeks: Yes, they fight like—like shrews. Or yapping dogs, nipping at the defenseless.

Yuliana, stands up and instantly begins berating him in Russian.

Arkady, to Deeks after retorting in Russian: See, this is reason we did not marry.

Roberta, hand on her hip: Excuse me, what did you call me?

Deeks, whistling sharply: Alright, that is enough! In two sentences or less, explain your top grievance with this man. *he gestures to Arkady and then Yuliana* You go first.

Yuliana, haughtily: Arkady told me he had been tasked with a very important job for US government two weeks before our wedding. I never saw him again. And he took my engagement ring with him.

Deeks: Not a good look, man.

Yuliana, warming up now: He also lies! All the times with the lies and the stories. He told me—

Deeks, interrupting: On any other day, I would love to pull up a chair and listen, but right now I’m on a tight schedule. So, if you wouldn’t mind. Mom?

Robert: Well, I suppose it’s not that bad, but last week he never showed up for our weekly dinner at my house. *she glares at Arkady and he cowers a little* I’m also not a big fan of some of the things I heard about you from your ex. I’ve dated jerks before, Ari.

Deeks, nodding: Ok, so now we have the grievances. What type of reparations do you think are necessary for you both to get over this Russian scoundrel and vacate the premises?

Yuliana glances at Roberta and they shrug a couple of times before nodding.

Yuliana: A sincere apology would suffice. Otherwise, I will never leave.

Arkady: Apologize? For what? I have done nothing! Ok, perhaps I tell a few lies. But these are nothing.

Deeks, leaning close to him: Arkady, you either apologize to these ladies with the best of your con-man abilities or I will have you arrested for trespassing on private property.

Arkady: You are not agent anymore.

Deeks: You forget I’m friends with your son-in-law, Sam Hanna, and several other law enforcement agents who would happily put you behind bars.

Arkady: You would not dare. *Deeks raises an eyebrow and Arkady puts on a contrite expression* Yuliana, my former love, I am deeply sorry for abandoning you on our wedding day. I don’t deserve your love. Roberta, my dear, my feisty woman—

Deeks: Speed it up.

Arkady: Roberta, I promise to never treat you so poorly again. Will you forgive me?

Roberta: What do you think, Yuliana? Should we forgive this pathetic man?

Yuliana: It was satisfying to see him grovel. Why not? Roberta, do you have plans?

Deeks, as they wander off, making plans to go shopping: Oh, thank god. Maybe I can finally get some sleep.

Arkady: But first you just drive me home since I ride here with your mother.

Deeks, talking to himself: A jury would accept a plea of insanity.

[westofessos]

So I just finished Gilmore Girls for the first time and boy, do I have some thoughts:

First of all, I love this show so much. More than I ever thought I would. It’s just so comforting. I totally get it now.

Now, for specifics.

Lorelai:

I love Lorelai. She does make some dumb choices, but in the end, she’s just so loveable and fun, I can’t help but adore her.

Rory:

I do not get the hate I’ve seen for Rory! Yes, like her mom, she makes stupid decisions, but she’s so wonderful. Maybe it’s just because I relate to her so closely, but I love Rory so much.

Luke:

Ughhhh I love love love Luke. He’s so unexpectedly hilarious sometimes?? I did not foresee that when I started. Scott Patterson is also strangely one of the best actors on the show, which I also did not expect. Luke is a gem, we love him.

Luke & Lorelai:

How could you not love these two together? They’re absolutely perfect for each other and the pining, especially on Luke’s part, makes for incredible television. I do think their dynamic kind of lost the really special ‘will they, won’t they’ tension after season 1/2, but I still ship them. So glad they ended up together. When she was still with Christopher near the end of season 7, I got a little worried.

Paris:

PARIS IS GAY. I will accept nothing less. She is queer in some way, whether she’s a lesbian or bi. She had absolutely no chemistry with any of her love interests but so much with Rory. Also she’s just amazing all around. I fucking love Paris. Make her queer, cowards.

Lane:

How could you not love Lane? She’s the absolute shit. Cool, supportive, loyal, and a fucking rockstar. I didn’t mind her with Zach to begin with (even though I thought it was a bit strange how they all of a sudden liked each other), but when they got married and had kids, that was a big nope for me. Lane Kim deserved to be a famous rockstar.

Emily & Richard:

I went back and forth on these two. On one hand, they’re very entertaining characters and I do believe they’re trying to do what they think is best, but on the other, I think in the end they do more harm than good. The way they dismiss Lorelai’s trauma, and completely disregard everyone else’s opinion because they assume they automatically know what’s best, just rubs me the wrong way. Not to mention the manipulation and the going behind people’s backs. I think there should’ve been an arc at the end where they finally listened to Lorelai and acknowledged what they’d done and tried to change for the better.

Sookie:

Melissa McCarthy is great in everything, and this is no exception. She’s so sweet and lovable, and such a good friend to Lorelai. I love her. Plus her relationship with Jackson is just lovely.

Michel:

He’s such a sarcastic bitch and I love him. I think that’s all there is to say.

The Townies and Side Characters:

Kirk - Kirk is maybe the funniest part of the show and such a little sweetheart, I love him so much.

Babette - aka the best neighbour ever. We deserved even more of her and Morey than we got.

Miss Patty - same goes for Patty! We need more Patty!

Taylor - annoying and obnoxious but the show wouldn’t be the same without him. Irreplaceable.

Gypsy - again, we needed more!! Gypsy was so funny and I just wanted more!

April - I love April! She’s so sweet. I don’t, however, like what her arrival did to Luke and Lorelai’s relationship, and I fucking hate Anna.

Christopher - I don’t hate him, but he’s definitely not one of my favourites. I think it would’ve been a lot better if he and Lorelai had just been really close friends, or if he had just been fully out of the picture.

And finally, the boys:

Dean:

FUCK. DEAN. Do I need to say more? He’s a toxic, possessive, asshole and I hate him. He was okay in the beginning, but the ‘50s episode really clinched my hatred for him. Huge nope from me. What a dick.

Logan:

Man, do I hate Logan. Obviously not as bad as Dean, but he’s such a douchebag!! I genuinely cannot stand him or put up with any of his bullshit. I thought he would grow on me as the show went on but no, I only hated him more.

Jess:

Best for last. My love for this man knows no bounds. Obviously the best fit for Rory, I love them together, but also his relationship with Luke is so great. Also, justice for his and Rory’s relationship while they were dating!! Why did we only get to see it when shit hit the fan? They kept mentioning how they were going to hang out, that they were meeting up later on, so why didn’t we get to see any of it? Why did we only get to see them when Jess fucked up? I hate that. I also hate that they didn’t end up together, even when Jess grew and changed and bettered himself. Anyway, I just love him. I could talk about him forever.

A Year in the Life:

They tried to fit 22 episodes worth of Gilmore Girls into 4 episodes, and it didn’t work. The first episode did an okay job, and I did kind of love the last episode (the wedding!), but the middle two were. . . yikes. No theme song/opening titles? No transitions? NO SOOKIE EXCEPT FOR ONE SCENE AT THE END? Michel thinking about leaving the inn and Lorelai being abandoned by both of her friends? No Jackson? Rory being with an engaged Logan? Basically no Jess except for a few scenes, one of which broke my heart? I could go on forever.

That being said, they should make more after the cliffhanger they left us on. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if it’s subpar.

Anyway those are just a few of my many thoughts about this show. I can’t believe I waited until now to watch it. I need someone to talk about this show with so if you see this and want to talk, DM me.

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (9/10)

64.media.tumblr.com

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | AO3 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Killian woke up with Emma on his chest and the blankets wrapped tightly around them. Emma had built her cocoon around them both sometime in the night. Her sea-coloured eyes were already on his and she wore a contented smile while she twirled her finger in the patch of hair on his chest. 

“What a lovely sight to see upon waking, Swan.” 

“I've been admiring the view myself,” she said before placing a chaste kiss on his chest. 

He ran his hand along her side, squeezing her tight to him as he did so. Her soft skin pressed against his beneath the blankets. Everything was perfect. These moments were becoming more frequent - they were no less precious in their frequency. With these once fleeting moments of warmth, contentedness, and connection becoming commonplace between them, their relationship felt more real, more substantial, than it had before. She wasn’t going to vanish from his grasp between one second and the next. 

“I need to get up and shower and help Anna with the beach party preparations and…” Killian interrupted her task list with a sweet kiss.

“Let’s start with the shower - that is something I can help you with.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Emma shifted off him to the en suite. “But after coffee, I have to go.” 

“Hmm, that is a while from now,” Killian answered as he followed her into the bathroom to run the water for them. He tugged her into his shower and water engulfed them from all sides. He chuckled at the deep groan that she released when the side jet nearest to her hit her lower back. He kneaded his hand and his blunted arm into her lower back muscles, enjoying the sounds of her sighs and moans when he hit upon a particularly sore spot. 

“I’m never going to leave if you keep this up.” 

“That’s the plan, love.” Killian smiled cheekily at her as she turned to hug him in the warm water. 

“This is nice.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“I like waking up with you,” Emma admitted softly. Killian broke their embrace to lather soap on them both.

“Should you move in with me, we would never need to wake up any other way.” Killian hadn’t intended to ask her, but he did not regret it. He wanted her to be the first thing that he saw every morning, the blanket thief in his bed each night, the clothing left strewn about the immaculate house, the other coffee cup on the counter top, and all the thousands of tiny things that are involved in sharing a life together.

“Hmm. You want me to move in with you so that we can always wake up together?” 

“Aye. That’s one reason.” He answered after they rinsed off the soap. 

“Not the only one?”

“There are so many reasons that I want to share a home with you, Emma. Move in with me and let me show them to you?” 

The water seemed to roar more loudly in the quiet that followed. Time slowed in that cruel way it does when the next second will irrevocably impact your life. Perhaps, it is meant to help you prepare in case the ensuing second arrives ready to break you beyond repair. Maybe it is less malicious than that, a moment stretched out so that you know to pay attention and be fully present because what happens next matters. 

Killian intently watched as thoughts and emotions flickered wildly behind Emma’s eyes, as she drew in a breath to answer, as she formed the words that propelled time suddenly forward.

“You do have a kitchen full of my favourite snacks,” Emma smiled excitedly up at him. His heart was cliche as it soared with joy.

“Aye, and these plush towels you love so much,” he said, wrapping her in a towel as they stepped out of the shower. 

“And, that insanely large and comfortable bed.” 

“Aye, and coffee,” he offered, “with cinnamon.”

“All with the vampire that I love.” 

“All for the witch that I love.” 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

The connection that they’d forged between them last night felt like a thread pulling and guiding them together. It was a bit strange at first - when she left to catch up with Anna, it had felt like a rubber band angry with being stretched to its limit. But, it quickly became a comfort, especially, after all the time they’d spent apart. 

As he went about his day, checking security for the beach party and of the town, he grew accustomed to the gentle nudge at his chest urging him ever closer to her. At times, he was sure he could detect echoes of emotion that belonged to his witch. 

There was also a new awareness of the strands of magic flowing around him and through him that he knew meant he’d absorbed some of her powers. He was a magical creature, his magic was an essential part of his being and ruled him, but her powers gave her control over magic. He wanted to explore this with her further, to ensure he could use her gifts without a cost to her and to experience the world as she did. Plus, he thought up some positions and games for them to try once he learned how her telekinesis worked. 

He was completing a final check of the security plan for tomorrow’s event before heading to the beach party when he received an email from Smee reporting a new possible security risk. 

“Bloody,” Killian cursed as he opened the missive. He couldn’t afford to overlook any potential situation just because he was anxious to get to the beach. 

He skimmed the report - a non-issue. But, he’d been delayed far longer than he wished. He shut down his computer and cleaned off his desk when the echoes of emotion that had accompanied him through the bond all day fell silent. 

His heart pounded as he pulled out his phone and called David. He was travelling at the height of his vampiric speed, the beach almost in view, as he listened to the phone ringing out. 

The band was playing and the party was in full swing when he reached the shoreline. The tether to Emma tugged him away from the party. Fear that didn’t belong to him crawled up his spine - Emma. 

“Hey, it’s David. Leave a message.”

Killian cursed, waiting for the beep. “Something has happened to Emma. I am tracking her and sharing my location with you. When you get this, find me. See you soon, mate.” 

He followed that wonderful tug toward the abandoned mines. When he reached the entrance,  he caught her scent mixed with another he knew well. Smee? 

As if in answer to his question, Smee emerged from the dark. 

“Sire?”

“Mr Smee,” Killian acknowledged. “Why aren’t you at your post?” 

“I got a call about some werewolves causing trouble nearby. I came to check it out.” 

Liar. The thought came from the magic swirling around him - Emma’s lie detector was more literal than he ever considered. The betrayal stung for a moment. The way his scent was so intermingled with Emma’s suggested that Smee was a part of what was happening with Emma. He wanted to demand answers, to hurt Smee the way Emma’s fear was hurting him, but he had to get to her. He didn’t want to waste time on Smee’s games. 

He smiled at Smee, all teeth and predator. Smee had a moment to process the threat before Killian rushed him and tore his head from his shoulders in one quick movement. He left the body and head at the mouth of the shaft and entered the mine. 

He could feel the anger radiating from her through the thread that connected them now. Anger meant she would find a way to fight, that would buy him time to reach her.

As he raced deeper into the mine, Killian’s chest started to burn as if it were being set on fire. What the fuck is happening? 

He set his teeth against the crippling pain and pressed on. He encountered a few weak werewolves blocking his progress. A wave of his hand sent them into the rock wall, knocking them out, and clearing the way forward. 

Screaming bounced around the dark walls around him and the scent of Emma’s blood was thick in the air. A growl tore through him as rage, red and hot, overtook him. He stormed forward, entering a cavern lined with sigils and one large stone slab where Emma was restrained and screaming as she battled a force he could not see. 

Regina and Neal stood in the space, watching the brutal scene unfold before them. Regina’s mouth was moving quickly, chanting the spell that was attacking Emma. Neal turned to face him with a broad smile on his face. “She’s going to be mine, now,” Neal gloated in way of greeting. 

Killian flung him against a wall to be dealt with later and turned his attention to the witch harming his mate. He darted toward her. She raised an arm, suspending him in mid-stride. Her chanting continued as she held him with little effort. He fought against Regina’s magic with all his strength but failed to overpower her magic, failed to stop Emma’s suffering. 

Regina smiled. 

Now would be a fantastic time to arrive, David. 

Killian stopped fighting against Regina’s power. It wrapped around him and held him in place. A witch’s magic would always be more powerful than the raw strength of either a vampire or a werewolf. It was how the gods kept the balance between the creatures. He just needed to figure out some other way to best her. 

An itch in his fingers alerted him of a change in the magic restraining him. It was gathering at his fingertips, aligning with the magic at his call, no longer holding him in place but awaiting his commands. 

He snarled forcing the magic back into Regina. It halted her chanting before tearing her into pieces from the inside out. A pile of purple dust gathered where the villainess had just stood. “Bloody hell.” Emma’s magic was a truly terrifying and wonderful thing. 

Turning to the slab, he waved away her restraints and pulled her into his arms. She was unconscious as he turned to take her out of this hell. But she was safe, now. He gripped her tight to him, the relief of her heart beating against his chest almost brought him to his knees.

“I think I hear something in this direction.” 

“David, my magic says they are this way.” Mary Margaret’s voice rang out through the tunnels. 

“Mary Margaret. David. We’re here.” Killian called, his voice breaking with emotion. She’s safe, now. She will be okay. 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

For every day that Emma did not wake, Killian carved a reminder into Neal’s flesh. For every time she called out Killian’s name during her endless slumber, he would break a bone, heal it, and break it again. The hisses and cries of her tormentor did very little to ease his anger, but even a drop of water is worth collecting if you’re dying of thirst. 

He entered the cell holding Neal, for now, ready to claim his flesh as the seventh day passed without any change. They had healed her with his venom, the bones in her hand knitted together days ago, her body was healthy but her mind was still out of reach. He felt like he was slowly losing parts of himself every day she stayed in this state. Perhaps, it was why he was enjoying taking parts from Neal so much. 

Neal looked up as Killian entered, the fear behind his eyes dulled from the day before, and his posture seemed resigned but no longer hopeless. A dark feeling crept through Killian, his jaw clenching against it.

“How’s Ems?” 

“You don’t get to ask.” Killian shut the door behind him, the lock engaging automatically behind him with a quiet click. “I do apologise, Neal, for you seem to have mistaken yourself for a guest in my home. Or a plaything that I intend to keep around for some time.” 

Neal’s eyes widened and the sharp acidic scent of fear filled the air as it dawned on him that tonight was going to be different than the previous six. Killian’s smirk was all hungry predator toying with his prey. “I assure you that I intend to rectify those misconceptions most thoroughly before I leave tonight. I am afraid that does mean that you won’t live to see tomorrow, mate.”

Killian smiled when Neal rallied his courage to make a last stand against him. He was hungry for a fight. Neal attacked first, lunging for Killian with his fangs extended as if they would pose any threat to Killian. Killian laughed without humour knocking the weaker vampire to the ground. He put his boot against Neal’s arm, pinning him to the floor. 

“She will never forgive you for killing me.” Neal spit out. Killian increased the pressure on Neal’s arm until a satisfying crack split the air. Neal grunted in pain, tears leaking from his eyes.

“She doesn’t like you nearly as much as you’ve told yourself,” Killian said smoothly. 

“She’ll leave you. That’s what she does.” Neal’s voice was between a whimper and a whine, a pathetic sound befitting the creature he was. 

A light knock at the door prevented Killian from responding. Killian’s heart squeezed in his chest, he knew what that knock meant. 

“Goodbye, Neal.” Killian dug his hook into Neal’s chest piercing his black heart. Neal pulled in one last wheezing breath before Killian grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I can’t say you’ll be missed,” Killian growled as he pulled. 

Killian kicked the heap of Neal’s body before turning on his heel and leaving the cell. David stood outside of the door. He nodded slightly to Killian, a small smile tugging at this lips, as Killian emerged from the room. Pulse racing, Killian turned to the guard he’d posted at the door, “Will, dispose of the tosser and ensure he is properly turned to ash.”

“Yes, sire.” 

“Good man.” Killian made his way back to his room in the best spirits he’d been in all week. 

Emma was waking.

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 17: Crisp Trepidation

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael is shaken up and you take care of him. But when Amanda comes around, truths start spilling out and you finally remove all the walls that have been standing tall between you.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of child death, mentions of child abuse, blood, non-sexual intimacy, cursing, panic attack, crying

Word Count: ~11k (this is a beast but it had to be done)

A/n: So they finally talk!! It’s not a proper adult conversation because it didn't fit in here, but they do talk a little and they’re finally open with each other, which lays the foundation of The Talk that’s gonna follow. You're welcome! (It’s also a lot of dialogue and I’m not sure if it’s good, but I tried. Feedback is always appreciated!)

Michael’s house is eerily silent when you enter. He turns the lights on in the hallway and you lock the door behind you. You can never be too safe, especially not after what conspired earlier tonight.

You’re met with the sight of a cozy kitchen. His decor is minimalistic, but it fits. You like the colors, and you like the layout.

It's a nice home to live in, you note, if it weren't for the constant reminder of tragedy you know lies in the living room.

You suspect his bedroom is upstairs together with the bathroom–the stairs lead from the living room to another floor. It’s small, but it’s cozy and it seems like a nice place to live in. But the place is missing a personal touch, and that’s where you realize that he was really gone for eight years; it shows in every inch of his home.

You wonder what life before his wife’s death was like. Were they happy? How did he and Anna get along? You have no doubt he was a great father before. You’ve always wondered what life as a Kinsella looks like, but after hearing he was shot at and his nephew died, you no longer want to know. It’s dangerous and you don’t like the thought of him being subjected to it.

“You, uh–” He breaks off to catch his breath. “Sorry, you want a drink?” Michael asks.

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’m good.”

He purses his lips, gets a glass, and pours some water from the tap into it for himself. 

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” you break the silence first. 

He shakes his head. 

“Okay, that's fine.” Your voice is soft when you reach out to touch his cheek again and say, “How about you take a shower then? It might help.”

His eyes flutter closed at your touch, and he leans into the palm of your hand. His head is just as heavy as his heart. A pile of bricks drags him down further under the surface of the lake. He’s drowning somewhere he’s sure no one would find him if he disappeared. You’re the rock keeping him afloat, but once you’re gone, nothing is holding him back from following the current into oblivion. 

Michael nods weakly in response to your question. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Shower sounds grand.”

You offer him a soft smile. “Do you need anything else before that? A hug, maybe?”

His hand finds yours at your side. He comes closer, his breath fanning across your face, and you move to tangle your fingers in the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I know I fucked up last night,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I...I never wanted it to end like tha.”

The dim light that fills the house reflects off the tears glistening in his eyes, and you can see the specks of green in his irises so much clearer now. The change in color always shows how he's feeling. Today, the sadness underlines the deep brown in his eyes, and that’s where you find yourself lost time and time again. He’s beautiful. The tragedy in him brings with it a certain beauty. A human and fragile kind of beauty.

Your throat dries shut. You reach out to cradle his cheek; the action carries the weight of your emotions, and yet it’s still not nearly enough. 

“You didn’t have t’stay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to repay ya for bein’ there for me the way you always are, but–”

“Shh,” you’re quick to cut him off. “You have no reason to apologize, okay? Let’s just…forget what happened, just for tonight, so I can take care of you. Nothing else matters.”

His lip quivers as he bites down on it. “I can’t be alone,” your name is a mere breath on Michael’s lips, “And I don’t wanna be.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Michael.”

He catches your chin between his fingers. “Can I–”

You don’t let him finish. “Yes,” you say. It’s a breathy admission, asking for something you both need. 

Your lips meet in a tender kiss at first. He still tastes the same as before, maybe a little more like coffee and you taste a lot more like tequila, but he isn't disgusted by the alcohol and caffeine mixture. The gentle brush turns into more when he takes hold of your face and pulls you even closer. 

All the pain, fear, and uncertainty melt into a shared vulnerability. It's a kiss filled with longing, a desperate need to find solace in each other. You hadn't been apart for long, but you both believed each other to be over, to have lost the one person that makes life worth living; now he's kissing you again and it feels too good to be true.

Your bodies press together. You wrap your arms around his neck. The soft caress of his hands on your skin sends shivers down your spine, electrifying every last nerve ending. The kiss is emotional, not as passionate as it seems, but it is exactly what you need. 

When you break apart, your forehead drops to his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into the silence. 

He shakes his head, his lips finding your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I just thought I lost ya,” he says. “And tha what happened was somehow my fault.”

You’re quick to look up at him. “No! God, no. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. We’ll… We’ll figure it out later, okay? Just not tonight.” It’s almost as if you’re begging.

You have both been through enough, you don’t need to add to each other’s plates with another burden to carry.

“Not tonight,” he agrees. 

He seems to want the same as you, and you don’t blame him. He has other things on his mind right now.

You press another kiss on his lips before pulling away for good. “Now go take your shower. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Michael offers a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He tries to reassure you, but his own emotions betray him. He’s a very expressive man, even though he pretends he isn’t. 

He squeezes your hand, slowly untangling himself from you and stepping toward the stairs that lead, as you’ve suspected, to the bathroom on the second floor. 

So many things are still left unsaid between you, but it feels almost natural to be there for him, to kiss him, and be held by him. It makes you hopeful that there is a chance he might forgive you and you won’t end up hating each other.

You’re not sure where this night will lead, but he needs you. You keep reminding yourself that you’re doing this for the man you love and nothing else matters but being emotional support for him. If you stopped telling yourself, you would break, and he would join you. He’s broken enough as he is. 

While he showers, you find yourself drawn toward the living room.

He has a lot of books, you notice. He reads. He told you once. His collection looks well-sorted, and the titles all seem familiar. You try not to touch or disturb anything. Everything is kept in order, so he has a system and you’d hate it if someone disturbed your system, and so you leave it be.

Then, your eyes fall on the fireplace set into the wall, and the bullet holes above it cause the blood to freeze in your veins. Of course, you remember what you read about Michael’s wife and how she was shot in this very home, but for a brief moment, you forgot.

His house feels so homely. You forgot he is staying in the very same place that holds a lot of trauma, closer to his family than anything else, and he admitted to feeling stuck there. With these obvious bullet holes, you wonder how he manages to spend even a few minutes in here, but this is Michael and he shoulders a lot without wanting to talk about it. 

And you can’t say you haven’t stayed in a place that holds traumatic memories and scars from the past because that would be a lie. You know what it’s like to live in a place where the blood still lingers, but in a twisted kind of way, you feel like it will always be your home. Physically, at least.

You didn’t really listen in therapy, but your therapist said something along the lines of that, and that your dependence on the past is also the reason you’ve never really felt at home anywhere.

Michael is the first person you feel truly safe with, but you went right ahead and shattered that like any other broken relationship you’ve had along the way. You always do this.

Your fingers reach out to trace the scars left by the shooting. The wallpaper feels rough under your fingertips. You imagine the bloodbath, the tears, and the guilt that filled this space eight years ago. You find yourself staring at the floor and the carpet, wondering if someone switched it out because blood is hard to get out. You know what it’s like to try and scrub the crimson liquid out of a carpet, and it’s no fun. 

You shake your head, quickly turning away from the ghastly reminder of the trauma that befell Michael and his little family, the same trauma that caused him even more from that moment on, and make your way back to the kitchen to occupy yourself with something else. 

Time passes by, and Michael has been showering for a little over thirty minutes. You’re not used to him taking so long. After downing a glass of cold water, you make your way upstairs. There is no water running in the bathroom, only dead silence. 

You swallow. What if he had a seizure and you weren’t there? In the bathroom, there are many edges he could split his head on. Your mind starts reeling with the worst-case scenarios, and it compels you to knock on the door to what you suspect is the bathroom. 

“Michael?” you ask. “You alright in there?”

There is a moment of silence before he answers, “Yeah, grand.”

You sigh in relief, leaning your head against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”

He whispers a quiet, “Yeah.” 

You push the handle down and step into the bathroom. The mirror isn’t foggy yet, and the shower seems dry. Michael is sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his boxers, his eyes vacant as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

Your brows furrow slightly. “Hey,” you murmur. 

His head turns in your direction, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I can’t get the blood off,” he says. His voice sounds like a monotone line. “I tried, but I…I can’t get it off. I never struggled t’ get blood off before, but it won’t…it won’t come off.”

It dawns on you. Your eyes soften as you stare at him, trailing over the stains on his neck, cheeks, and forehead. There is an unused sponge next to the towel he wet to get the blood off, but he didn’t succeed. 

You grab it, turn on the water in the shower, grab some shampoo, and kneel beside him. His eyes finally meet yours and you offer a gentle smile. You start scrubbing his neck with the sponge, and the blood almost instantly dissolves under your touch. 

The blood washes down the drain, followed by some of his tension. His eyes close. You try not to be so rough; he doesn’t want to be reminded of what happened any more than he already is every time he looks in the mirror.

Eventually, most of the blood is gone. His skin is reddened, but the physical reminder is gone. 

You stop to stroke his cheek. “Are you okay?” you ask again. 

He nods weakly, but it’s a lie. Truth is, he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling and it confuses him, which makes the numb pain in his chest so much worse. 

Putting the sponge down, you take a step back. The water in the shower is warm now, you check, and you slowly start taking your clothes off. 

Michael’s eyes fall on you and he frowns. “What’re you–”

You cut him off with a finger against his lips. “Take your clothes off,” you tell him. 

He doesn’t question your intentions. He knows what you mean. With a grunt, he gets up and sheds his underwear. You’re already bare at this point, so you step into the shower first, making sure it’s comfortable for him when he steps in. His muscles need warmth, and his mind needs a break. 

You pull him under the hot stream with a gentle tug of his hand. He has no choice but to succumb to your treatment; he’s exhausted, and your hands hold a magic he can’t get from anyone but you. 

You gently use the sponge from before to glide across his skin, starting with his torso. Your touch is tender, massaging his sore muscles in the front and back, and whatever blood you missed before joins the leftover soap in the drain. The water turns clear, and the weight falls off his shoulders. 

His skin itches and he still feels sticky with blood. He can’t get the picture of Jamie’s lifeless body off his mind. The memory is forever etched into his inner eyes, and he sees it clearly every time he closes his eyes. The darkness is bright red, the gunshots a melody in his ears that won’t stop, no matter how hard he tries to focus on the cascading water or your voice as you instruct him to twist and turn so you can clean him properly. 

You probably can tell that he’s not okay, that he’s still thinking about what happened, but you don’t push him for answers. You don’t ask useless questions because it is clear that’s not what he needs right now. You respect his boundaries.

There is too much pain in his body, and he doesn’t know where to channel it all with his thoughts raining down on him like heavy bricks, hitting him in the head over and over again until he’s bloody and bruised.

He’s a mess, he can’t deny it any longer; he doesn’t want you to see him like this, but he physically can’t be alone. He doesn’t trust himself to be alone, and you’re the only one he can count on to care enough to leave him alone and just be there, which sounds ironic and makes no sense, but to him, it’s all that makes sense in his scrambled mind. 

He called you because he knows you can be there for him while also giving him space. You broke up, or at least it felt that way, and he figured you wouldn’t come, but then you did and now he has to deal not only with watching Jamie get shot right in front of his eyes, but he has to deal with his feelings for you as well.

Though when he looks at you, he can tell you’re trying to keep the focus on him and not to speak of what happened, allowing a sense of tranquility to settle in between you. You want this to feel normal as much as he does, but there is no way you can erase what happened or forget just for one night, no matter how hard you both want to try.

It’s messy, but Michael can’t help but appreciate what you’re doing for him. You’re there for him, taking care of him without pushing him into anything he doesn’t want to do, and that’s exactly what he needs and deep down, it is the reason he called you anyway, even though his common sense told him not to. 

The movement of the sponge against his back stops. He looks over his shoulder to find you staring at your hand on his skin and his eyebrows furrow. 

Michael turns around to face you again. You snap out of it as soon as he moves, but there is still a glaze covering your eyes and turning the color of your irises darker than it should be. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You blink. “Sorry, I just…got lost in thought,” you lie. 

He must not have noticed the bruise on his back. It lies close to his shoulder blame, looking almost like the imprint of a door handle. It's just a bruise, you try telling yourself, but you still stop and stare at it for longer than you should have.

 A lump forms in your throat. The thought crosses your mind: it could have been him tonight. The terror of losing him, the idea of his life being snuffed out by senseless violence, sends a wave of panic through your body. Michael could have died tonight. A few inches more to the side and it wouldn't have been Jamie or Eric the bullets hit. He could have died and your last conversation would have been a fight that had no reason for turning into such a huge deal. It would have been your fault. 

You take a moment to compose yourself, your hand gently retreating from the bruise on his back. It's haunting. 

You've seen bruises before. You've seen worse, too. You've looked into the mirror before and seen the very same color on your own skin, and you covered it up because it was always just a bruise. But this is Michael, the man you love, and it proves to you just how fragile life is. It could end in an instant. You could have lost your life many times before. Your sister lost her life when she was just a toddler. Michael could have died at the hands of a gun tonight for seemingly no reason other than that he is a Kinsella, or maybe not even that's the case, and it slowly poisons you from the inside out. 

Michael reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Hey, what's goin' on?” he asks. “You alright?”

He noticed you zoned out, but it's hard to breathe. It feels as if someone is sitting on your chest, not ready to budge. But this is not the place and time to panic. This isn't about you. You aren't traumatized. Lying to yourself is easier than admitting the truth. You are not the center of attention. It doesn't matter.

The things you keep telling yourself are enough fuel for the demons in your head to cruelly attack you further, but you signed up for this. You knew this would happen. You were a fool to even get involved in the first place and now look at you. You hate your mind and your body and the person you have become. It's not fair to him. 

You meet his eyes. “You could have died tonight,” you whisper. You try not to break so he won't worry because it's the last thing he should do, but you're far too late for that.

Michael's expression softens, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. “I know. But I didn't,” he says. “I'm alive.”

His words, though comforting, don't ease your nerves. “It's not...I just can't wrap my head around it. You could have died tonight,” you repeat, and it hits you even harder. “Just...Dead.”

The weight of the guilt you carry threatens to consume you, but you push it aside, not wanting to burden him further. 

He nods along, understanding very well what you mean, but he can't take the weight off your shoulders because he told you before that this is his life. “I know this is probably a lot to process...”

Taking a deep breath, you try to steady your voice. “No, no,” you insist. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let my thoughts wander like that. This is about you. I'm here to take care of you, not the other way around. Sorry.”

His smile, albeit gentle, also holds a certain amount of pity. “You’re incredible, you know tha?” he says.

You offer a small, appreciative smile in return, although it doesn't quite reach your eyes. The demons continue to torment you, but you steel yourself against their onslaught. This isn't the time or place for your own insecurities.

As you both stand in the shower, the water continues to cascade around you. Michael reaches for the sponge.

“I wanna take care of ya,” he says. “May I?”

You shake your head. “No. This isn't about me,” you are quick to respond. “I'll be fine.”

He steps closer, ignoring your protests. Gently, he takes the sponge from your hand. The sensation of his touch on your skin sends a jolt through your body.

As he washes away the remnants of the night, you allow yourself to lean into his touch. 

“You matter, too,” he tells you. “I don’t know who told ya you don’t, but they were lyin’.”

Tears well up in your eyes. You can't talk. Instead, you step closer and wrap your arms around him. 

He hugs you back, needing this just as much as you. The water continues to cascade over both of you, the steam creating a sanctuary within the confines of the shower. There's no need for words; his presence alone speaks volumes.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your tears mingling with the water. They're silent and he probably doesn't notice. His eyes are closed just like yours, and he's heavily focused on the sound of your heartbeat to ground himself, and his hold tightens. 

Time seems to lose its meaning as you cling to each other. The water's warmth envelops you, cocooning you both in its embrace.

Eventually, the need for air pulls you apart, though you remain close, foreheads pressed together. Michael brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. He doesn't ask about it. He rarely does.

“Okay?” he asks.

You manage a small nod. “Okay,” you answer.

He kisses your forehead, then turns the water off. The bathroom is still warm, but without the water, goosebumps are quick to form on your skin. Michael wraps you in a towel first, urging you to dry off, and he follows shortly after. 

The next few minutes pass by in silence as he disappears into the bedroom to grab you both some clothes, and he returns with a shirt and a pair of boxers, handing you the same along with a pair of fuzzy socks because he knows you tend to get cold easily. 

You take his offer with a small smile and continue to get dressed as well. Meanwhile, he takes your sweatpants and your sweater and hangs them somewhere where the rain can dry. It’s still pouring outside, you can hear it rattling against the window, but you don’t mind the background noise. It’s soothing, in a way. 

“You want tea?” you ask him once you’re back downstairs.

Michael’s sitting at the dining table, his brown eyes empty as they stare up at you. He nods, and you get on it without asking any more questions. 

You find his tea pretty quickly. Your kettles are the same, so you know how to use them. When it comes to getting the mugs out of the cupboard, you take a moment to search for them because his kitchen is obviously sorted differently than yours, but you also find them quickly without having to ask him. 

You feel as if you’re navigating through your own home, which is strange because this house holds many memories that aren’t yours, and they hold bloodshed and trauma that also isn’t yours; Michael has been shouldering it all for years, and there must also be happy memories hiding in some corners that he can never get back now that all is ruined. 

You feel bad for him, but you know pity is not something you want. Everyone deals with pain, trauma, and grief differently, and he’s not the type of guy who likes to be belittled. He just wants to be treated like a human being, show love, and be taken care of every once in a while because he has never been nurtured before.

It’s strange how easily you can read him and yet he’s still not an open book, while he is grappling for even the smallest piece of information from you because he thought you were an open book, but it all turned out the pretense and delusion on your part. 

For someone who likes to watch people and get to know them, you suck at giving back. But you’ve also never been loved like this before, let alone by a man like Michael. He also knows people and he always finds out what he needs to study them, so it was only a question of time when he would have found something connecting to your past. 

You figure this is what you get for falling for a Kinsella, and no matter what you do, you can’t pull away because you feel so deeply for him, this love is impossible to break. Besides, you pushed him away because of you, not because he’s a bad person or you’ve lost interest, which also adds to your pile of guilt that you very much feel like you deserve to carry around. 

When you place the mug of Chamomile tea before him, you stop beside him. He looks at you, looks at the mug, and then his eyes meet your chest which is at level with his head. He contemplates before slowly placing his cheek where your heart seems to beat out of your chest. 

Michael leans against you, and you instantly wrap your arm around him while your other hand tangles in his hair. He does the same, wrapping his arm around your waist, afraid you might leave him or drop him if he doesn’t. But your hold is strong and he soon realizes that you don’t mind holding him like this, not at all. 

He listens to your heartbeat, the familiar rise and fall of your chest that he missed so terribly the other night, and the exhaustion starts to turn into drowsiness. He wants to sleep, but he knows that if he does, he will dream about what happened and then his mind is going to play tricks on him and he’s going to feel all the pain at once, together with whatever is fucked up in his brain. He hates that he knows how his night is going to go, and he hates that you might witness it in person this time.

But knowing you, you still wouldn’t pull away. When it comes to him, you never pull away, only if it’s making you feel vulnerable. But taking care of him is not something that would make you feel vulnerable, it only makes you feel responsible, and that’s why you stayed. You can’t help but help others, especially the ones you love, and he knows you love him deeply, you just struggle–he can’t blame you for that. 

“Maybe you should finish your tea,” your chest rumbles when you talk. “And then we can move to the couch and you can rest a little. How does that sound?”

You always make sure he’s comfortable with what you’re doing.

Michael nods, weakly leaning back to finish his tea, and you do the same. The liquid is hot, but he can’t drink it fast enough. 

Once his cup is empty, you guide him to the couch, making sure he's settled before joining him. He sits next to you for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. It's as if he wants to ask something or make a move, but he doesn't know how. So, you simply open your arms in silence. 

He takes the invitation, lowering his head into your lap, and you instinctively wrap your arm around him, holding him tightly. The weight of the world seems to press down on him, but in your arms, he finds peace.

You start dragging your nails across his scalp.

He lets out a soft sigh, his body relaxing further against you. His hair feels soft under your fingertips, like silk, almost. His hand rests on your thigh while the other rests on your arm that is wrapped around him. He's cradled almost like a baby, and he seems content with that. You're all over him, you even smell like him; the comfort you provide is something he can't put into words, but it feels good and it's exactly what he needs to finally fill his lungs with oxygen and let go. Just for a moment, he thinks, he wants to shut his mind off and focus on something other than the shit show his life has become. 

Your voice breaks the serene silence. “How are you feeling?” you ask softly.

He stirs, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “Empty,” he admits. “But hangin’ in there.”

You don't press him for more. Instead, you offer a gentle nod, silently acknowledging his answer. You continue to run your fingers through his hair like you did before. 

As he begins to drift off, his breathing growing slower and more even, you hold him a little tighter, cherishing the vulnerability he allows you to witness. He didn't have to call you, but he did, and that shows that his feelings truly didn't waiver. With each stroke of your fingers against his scalp, you hope that it's enough to ease his troubled mind, even if just for a little while. 

Your eyelids start drooping too, his weight and warmth dragging you down into the abyss with him. But you have always been a light sleeper, and sensitive to sound, too. There is nothing that can't wake you. Even breathing too loud could disturb your sleep, and you figure it's because you grew up as a vigilant child, but it could also be because of whatever is wrong with your mind. It never really mattered to you because, after some time of not being able to sleep, a person gets used to living like this, even if it's unhealthy. 

Your eyes fly open when there is a knock on the door. You know you couldn't have imagined it because it happens again when you're a little more lucid.

Michael stirs. You gently move him off your lap and place him down on the pillows. It’s probably foolish to open the door on your own after what he got himself into, but he deserves to rest. 

You take a deep breath before pushing the handle down. The woman standing across from you appears familiar, but you can’t put your finger on where you know her from at first. 

“Hi!” you blurt out, crossing your arms over your chest. You introduce yourself and ask, “How can I help you?”

When the woman finally speaks, you realize where you know her from. The news articles you read online while researching Michael come back to mind and you can finally sort the face out.

“I need ta talk to Michael,” she says, her voice curt, and perhaps even the slightest glimmer of jealousy flickers in her eyes.

Amanda. She was the pretty brunette you saw in the Twitter thread about the Kinsella business, the owner of the car dealership, Michael’s former boss if you can even call her that. And she’s Jimmy’s wife, making her Jamie’s mother, and the same woman Michael told you are living next door to him. But she is–was–Jamie’s mother, and while you should feel bad, you also remember what Michael told you.

The way his family continues to treat him is awful and he doesn’t deserve it. He called you because he doesn’t want to be prodded by them, but Amanda still found her way over. You can’t blame her because she’s grieving, but you can blame her for everything else, the way they treated or saw him, and that makes you angrier than anything. You can’t feel bad for her when you don’t like her. Maybe that makes you a bad person, but she made herself the bad person when she and the rest of his family chose to treat the man you love like a pawn after he went through literal hell. 

You know what it’s like to be expected to be there for everyone, to be the best and aim to please, and it sucks. He doesn’t deserve it. No one is a saint in this world and this life, especially, and Michael did horrible things in the past, but he’s working on himself and he has a good heart. You’re not so sure about Amanda and the rest of his family though. 

Her eyes are red and she must have been crying, but you couldn’t care less. 

Your expression tightens. “He’s resting,” you say. “It’s late, maybe you can come back in the morning–”

Amanda is quick to cut you off, and kindness seems to have gone lost on her. “It’s important,” she says. 

“I know, but he had a rough night.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“Amanda–I suppose it’s Amanda, right?”

She rolls her eyes.

“So it is you. I’m so sorry for your loss–”

“I don’t have time fer this. I don’t know what you’re doin’ here, but I don’t care. I’m gonna speak to Michael whether ya like it or not, so if you know what’s good for ya, yer gonna move out of my way now so I can–”

Just as she’s about to reach out and physically push you aside so she can enter, footsteps approach behind you and another hand finds its way to your elbow and pulls you back. 

“What’s goin’ on here?” Michael asks, his voice a little groggy. 

He stands between you and Amanda now, and her demeanor changes the second she lays eyes on him. 

“Michael,” Amanda breathes. 

He only briefly acknowledges her, taking more time to move you behind him to shield you from any possible danger (or in this case, Amanda’s personality). 

“You have a minute? I need t’ talk to ya. Please? It’s about Jamie.” 

Oh, so she can say please. She just hates you. You never met this woman and you don’t know what you could have done to upset her in the few seconds you stood across from each other, but she’s really starting to show her true colors.

Michael stiffens at the mention of the boy’s name, and he looks over his shoulder at you. You’re not sure what he wants to hear, so you simply stare back. 

Turning back to Amanda, he sighs. “First of all, don’t touch her,” he says, and although it sounds calm, there is a certain power hiding in his voice that comes from deep within, a certain sense of protection. “She has nothin’ t’do with wha happened tonight, so don’t drag her into this. She never did anythin’ to ya. Calm down.”

“I just need a moment alone with ya,” Amanda retorts, defending herself. “Please, Michael.”

Michael shakes his head. His stern eyes divert and turn back toward you. He tells her to wait before pulling you aside. 

“You want me to send her to hell?” you ask once she’s out of earshot. “Because I know I may not look like it, but I actually know how to punch someone.”

He chuckles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s alright,” he tells you. “I’m gonna be fine. Just give us a minute, alright?”

You’re not happy. For one, you don’t want to leave him alone, and two, he told you about how determined his family is to persuade him into doing things he doesn’t want to do, and that’s also a reason why you don’t want to leave him alone with her. But she said it’s about Jamie and maybe it’s not as deep as you think it is, just two grieving people talking about the life they lost. She’s a mother, she lost her child, and Michael lost a family member. Maybe, just maybe, it’s not as serious as you think it is and they just need a minute to talk. 

You put your protectiveness aside and nod, although still hesitant. 

“If anything’s wrong, you call for me,” you say. “I’ll be upstairs.” 

Michael nods in response, leaning forward to press his lips on your forehead. You close your eyes. He’s good at calming you down, but even better at persuading you. You caress his cheek one last time before heading for the stairs, thinking going to the bedroom might give them enough space. 

You glance at the two one last time on your way up, Amanda enters the house down, and he drags her out of your eyesight into the kitchen behind the wall. You sigh. Eavesdropping wouldn’t be cool, and why are you jealous anyway? Your mind is messed up, you think to yourself, and this is none of your business. So you sigh again, resisting the urge to be an idiot and make your way back upstairs to give them some privacy to talk things out.

Once upstairs, you find yourself pacing the room. It's difficult to silence the thoughts swirling in your mind. They threaten to consume you. 

As you walk back and forth, you attempt to distract yourself by focusing on the mundane details of the room. The flickering lamp on the nightstand, the familiar scent of the sheets, and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. But these simple things do little to ease your mind.

You find yourself glancing at the clock; time feels like an eternity, and the silence in the house amplifies the turmoil within you.

Eventually, you force yourself to sit down on the edge of the bed, urging yourself to take deep breaths. You remind yourself that Michael knows what he's doing, that he can handle himself. Yet, a nagging voice in the back of your mind insists that something is terribly wrong and he needs you or else he will fall apart. 

Minutes turn into what feels like hours, and the silence becomes unbearable. You consider going back downstairs, unable to stand the uncertainty any longer. But then the sound of the front door closing abruptly makes the decision for you. 

You hesitate. Does that mean you can come back? There are no footsteps, only silence, even when you momentarily open the door to listen. 

“Fuck it,” you mutter to yourself before making your way back downstairs. 

It’s your gut that is telling you to move, and you choose to follow it this time. 

Walking into the kitchen, you notice that Amanda is gone, but her presence still seems to linger in the atmosphere. You can smell her perfume, and you figured they must have hugged, but then your eyes fall on Michael and your heart breaks. 

He’s leaning over the dining table, both hands gripping the edges. His eyes are closed. He looks like he’s in excruciating pain, and it makes you worry about what conspired between him and his sister-in-law to change his mood this quickly. Talking about someone you lost with a now childless mother is one thing, but the way his face contorts holds more than just grief. 

“Michael,” you call out for him softly. “Is everything alright?”

The only answer you receive is silence. 

You reach out to touch his shoulder. “Hey, talk to me. What happened?” you ask. 

Your hand doesn’t even brush him before he pulls away, shaking his head. He whispers something you can’t hear, maybe it’s a curse, but his eyes remain shut. There is something on his tongue waiting to be uttered, but he seems almost scared of saying it. 

Your eyebrows furrow even more. The worry shoots straight through your veins, paralyzing you. You’re not sure what to do or what even is going on; you don’t understand and it’s frustrating because you just want to help, but he doesn’t seem to know what he wants.

Sometimes, when there is a truth to be shared, your mind shuts off, afraid of admitting it because then that truth will become real and you no longer have a defense to show for yourself. You know how it is because you live by that rule every damn day of yourself, and you only now realize how much it hurts to see someone you love struggling but not knowing why, and you could kick your own ass for being so naive. 

“Michael,” you try again. 

This time though, he cuts you off. “Jamie, he was…” He swallows. His voice breaks like a glass that just hit the cement. “He was…He was my boy.”

The words reach your ears and your brain begins to process them, but it takes a moment for you to realize what they mean. It’s not just any statement, it is the raw truth, and it’s a truth that hurts. It’s a truth that breaks. 

You frown, your brain still busy connecting the dots, when he says, “Jamie was my son.”

His eyes fall on you, and that’s when it clicks. 

Oh. 

OH.

Michael grew up surrounded by violence. He was shot many times before and went through a lot in the past. He was there when his wife got killed. Watching someone get shot was nothing new for him. You never questioned his reaction to the events; he had every right to be shaken up because he’s only human, after all, but now that you think about it, his reaction hinted at how much the person who got killed meant to him and you didn’t even realize. He is downright traumatized, and someone who used to hurt people for a living would not have had that much of an emotional reaction except if the victim meant more to him. 

Jamie was his son. Not his nephew, his son. It all becomes frighteningly clear to you. The fact he even shared it with you is one thing, but it’s a truth you don’t think is meant for the whole world to hear, and that makes it so much deeper. 

You place a hand in front of your mouth. Tears well up in your eyes. You know you’re supposed to say something, but right now, you’re speechless. 

You never lost a child, but you know what it’s like to lose someone as close to feeling like a child as it could possibly get, and you know how badly it hurts. And it hurts even more if you don’t get to grieve, or if people don’t take it seriously and expect more from you. It hurts, it’s vile and it paralyzes you. 

How is he still standing?

“Amanda and I…We…It was a stupid mistake. A lapse in judgment. I never meant ta…But I was so full of hatred and self-pity and she…God, she can be so cruel. Tempting. And she…she was miserable too. We both were. And then we just…It was a fuckin’ bad idea,” he says. His voice is quivering and you’re only counting the seconds before he’ll break. 

Michael is spiraling, but is there even anything you could do to stop him? He’s confiding in you, and if this is his way to get it off his chest, you don’t want to stop him, even though you can tell it hurts him. You’re shocked and confused and all you can do is listen. 

“Never told Jimmy ‘cause that would’ve been…It was so stupid, but it kept happenin’, and then…then she got pregnant and I thought…I thought it’d be Jimmy’s, but then she tells me it’s mine, tha she’s carryin’ my child…I didn’t know what t’do ‘cause we swore we’d never tell anyone, so she just made him believe Jamie was his, but he knows,” he scoffs, “Jimmy…I know he knows. Jamie…Jamie didn’t know. I was Uncle Michael, but I was there and I watched him grow up as much as I could, and fuck! I fuckin’ knew he was mine just from lookin’ at him. I couldn’t…Couldn’t even deny it ta make me feel better. He was my boy.” 

He pushes himself off the dining table, his eyes finally opening and meeting yours. The tears are instantly visible. You want to reach out, but maybe this is a line you should only cross once he’s ready for it, and he doesn’t seem ready right now. 

“I was s’posed ta protect him,” his voice is barely above a whisper before it raises again, filled with agonizing guilt. “But I…I failed. And now…now he’s fuckin’ dead! Amanda’s right, I should’ve…I could’ve done somethin’, but I failed and tha’s my fault. Shit!” he cries out and his fist hits the wood of the table hard enough to make it shake. 

He turns away. Now you know he’s crying, and at this point, your own tears are staining your cheeks. You can’t help it. 

Michael swallows. “He was my boy,” he repeats, “and now he’s dead. He’s…He’s gone.”

And he watched him die. 

“Oh, God–” He chokes up. 

You call his name, but you’re not sure if it’s even audible. You step forward, letting your body do the talking, and you envelop him in your arms before he can break down on the floor. His needy hands dig into your hips as he hugs you back, his head dropping into the crook of your neck, and he finally lets it out. He held back all night for probably the very same reason he just bared to you–Jamie was his son, he watched him get shot and now he’s gone. He didn’t process it before, and Amanda probably forced him to face it and then put her first instead, and it all became too much. 

He has every right to break down; you’re glad it’s in your arms and not on his own, or with someone who doesn’t understand. You’re not sure you can understand enough, but you’re trying to because you’re familiar with the pain, at least. Everyone deals with it differently, but you understand, even in silence. And so you hold him as he sobs into your arms, your tears mingling with his, but the room is only filled with the sound of his broken heart. It’s worse than anything you’ve ever seen before. 

You hold him as tight as you can, making sure he knows you’re his lifeline and you’re not going anywhere. He’s not a burden, he just needs someone to take care of him. Who are you to deny him that?

He lost his son…It still hasn’t settled in fully, but it’s the brutal reality you have to look in the eyes the same way he does. It hurts, but he took the first step and admitted it, and maybe your touch is enough to at least piece him back together enough before he can fully slip away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. 

His breath gets caught in his throat and he hiccups. You rub his back. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re not alone…” 

You don’t tell him everything’s going to be okay because that would be some pretentious shit you don’t want to expose him to. You know it’s not something you want to hear after losing someone dear to you because you often know that it’s not true. 

He cries until he has no more tears left, and his body is almost limp in your arms. You continue to hold him. His breath hitches, but his sobs quiet down. The tears continue to spill, but even those eventually start to subside. You’re standing there for a little while longer, giving him what he wants, letting him take what he needs, and his erratic heartbeat eventually aligns with yours as he focuses on his breathing. 

“Sorry,” his breath is hot against your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have–” he says. 

Michael leans back, rubbing his wet eyes. They’re swollen and reddened, and his lips are dry now. Your eyes soften. He’s trying to take the blame again; he’s trying to downplay his pain because he’s not used to being able to share and then not having to give anything in return. He hardly ever shares his feelings. 

You sigh, your hands resting on his shoulders. Your eyes stare sternly into his, and he reminds you of a deer caught in headlights. 

“Guess the cat’s out the bag now,” – he sniffles – “Sorry ‘bout tha. Yer shirt’s soaked. And…” A pained sound forms in the back of his throat when he sees your tears, and he reaches out to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head softly. “Don’t you dare apologize right now,” you say. 

You take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with his. You guide him to a nearby chair and urge him to sit down while you grab him some water and a tissue. He doesn't protest, almost too weak to even move.

When you come back and clean his cheeks, his eyes are no longer vacant. He allowed himself to feel, and while the guilt becomes stronger now, it seems as if deep down, he acknowledges that he needed this. It was a huge display of trust you don't deserve, but he shared his truth with you and now you get to take care of him. He trusts you enough still; that's supposed to be a good thing, no matter how much you hate yourself for it. 

You meet his gaze, your eyes filled with compassion and understanding as your hand rests on his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you insist. “You don't need to apologize for telling me the truth. I can't even fathom how much you're hurting right now, but I'm glad you told me. So don't apologize. Not...not for this, not for anything, because you never did anything wrong. Jamie's death is not your fault. He was your son and shit happened and now it hurts like hell and that's okay. It's okay to let it out, to let yourself feel. You have to or...or you'll break. I know you're probably expected to move on right away, and that it's been like this every time you lost someone or something, but that's not right,” you say. “Your family...They should care about you and your pain too, so if not for them, take a break for me. You deserve to just let it all out. You deserve to grieve.”

His hand untangles from yours to cradle your cheek. “Don’t cry,” he says. “Not ‘cause o’ me.”

You place your hand over his on your cheek, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“You don't have to worry about me,” you assure him. “I'll be okay. I just…feel for you, that’s all. You're the one who needs comfort right now, and that's what I'm here for.”

You feel his grip on your hand tighten, his eyes searching yours. The vulnerability in his gaze is raw, yet there's a glimmer of gratitude shining through.

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

You nod. “We’ll be alright.”

A moment of silence follows. He finishes his glass of water, slowly regaining composure, but his voice still breaks when he talks again. “Amanda wanted to know his last words,” he tells you. “We talked about boxin’ in the car and he made fun of Eric’s flat tire ‘cause he thought it was funny. He…he died quickly. He didn’t suffer or anythin’. Tha’s supposed t’ make me feel better, right? That he died quickly. But it…it doesn’t make me feel better. It makes it feel so much worse and I don’t understand why.”

You wipe your cheeks. Jamie was just a boy. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into this, and now a lot of lives are in shambles because of what happened. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can answer. 

Michael shakes his head. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You came,” he says. “You didn’t have ta, but ya came anyway.”

You shrug. “You called.”

Another tear slides down his cheek. Tears always find a treacherous way back once they’ve subsided. He groans, dropping his face in his hands. 

Just when you thought he was out of the woods, the downward spiral begins again. 

The whole day weighs heavy on your heart, and you're barely keeping it together as it is, but you soon realize Michael is worse off than you thought, and your blood threatens to boil over. He breaks the silence eventually with a bitter scoff that turns into a chuckle, somehow managing to send shivers down your spine that you wouldn't count as pleasant. Your eyes fall on him; you're confused and you frown, but the look on his face is just as alarming as it is unsettling. 

“This is so stupid,” you catch him muttering to himself.

You tilt your head to the side. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“I'm such a fuckin' failure,” Michael's voice cracks.

You look at him, but whatever he’s trying to say doesn’t become any clearer. He can see it on your face that you’re not following. His jaw locks. He clenches his teeth and his fists; it must hurt how hard he’s doing it, but perhaps this is the whole point of his behavior. To hurt himself.

“I couldn't even protect my own son,” he says, his voice matching the bitter look in his eyes. “I let him down. Just like I let Anna down. She's my daughter, and I can't even properly fight for her. Couldn’t get my shit together, and after wha happened to Jamie... no court is gonna say yes t'me gettin' her back now. I fucked up again 'cause I was so caught up in my own feelings. I hurt ya, I hurt Anna, Allison, and now Jamie's dead. Everythin' and everyone around me dies.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It's a struggle to keep your composure, to hold back the torrent of emotions building inside you. “What?” you ask quietly, hoping you just misheard, but you didn't.

“You heard me,” he says, your name now sounding condescending rather than soft and sweet. “I'm a bad father and you can't tell me it didn't cross yer mind tha I'm a failure when I told ya the truth. It’d be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t be a lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, it would.”

“No…”

“Yes. Don’t act like I’m a saint or- or tha any of this makes me a good person.”

But the weight becomes too much to bear, and with a mix of desperation and anger, you finally let it all out.

Was this how you sounded the other night? You're appalled. The anger lands in your veins like an injection from a needle straight into your bloodstream, and the heat rises to your cheeks as your heart starts working double time.

“Like father like son,” Michael says, and this one is directed at himself. “Ruinin' everythin' in my way since the day I was born and I still pretended it was all gonna work out. And the worst part is, if I told anyone in my family, they'd agree with me 'cause they like rubbin' salt in every goddam wound. I don't even exist as a human being t’ them, and maybe I don't deserve t'be treated like one. I don't even fuckin' care anymore. I'm just...done. And Anna deserves better. I should’ve never tried gettin’ her back. She’ll only suffer. I–”

“Stop it!” you cry out, cutting him straight off like a knife, and he looks too stunned to speak. He has never heard you yell before.

The door of the fridge slams shut and your beer bottle almost breaks upon impact with the kitchen counter. The room grows eerily quiet, only filled with your labored breathing and a soft whimper from Michael's end when he looks at you and sees the pain in your eyes.

“Just stop with this self-loathing bullshit!” you snap.

The tears are right there, and you can't stop them, but you also don't want to because he is an idiot and you're sick and tired of hearing him claim things that aren't true. This is partly your fault. Rage makes you blind, but perhaps this is exactly what you two needed; you had to reach your breaking point to finally open up the way he did, and now everything's right there on the table, your heart bleeding out into the palm of his hands.

“You want to know what a bad father is?” You look at him, your eyes big and challenging. “I can tell you, Michael,” you say.

He stares at you, speechless.

“I've lived through it. I endured it day in and day out for almost nineteen years, and then, when I was free, I signed up for another two years of hell for the sake of being the person people expected me to be. A bad father is the one who killed my little sister. My three-year-old little sister. She was defenseless,” you say.

Michael’s jaw drops. “Jesus,” the word slips past his lips like a mere breath

But you’re not done. The words tumble out of your mouth and you can’t stop them. So you continue, “A bad father is the man who abused me, who made me feel worthless every breathing second of my life since I was a baby. A bad father is a man who played favorites and took his anger out on me, had two more children, and still used me as a punching bag just because I wasn't the daughter he wanted. A bad father is a man who constantly abuses his wife to the point she developed epilepsy and makes his children deal with the aftermath. That's a bad father!”

Tears stream down your face as the floodgates of pain open wide. You can’t see anything but the color red, sadness disguised as rage, and it all blurs together.

“You, Michael, you're not a bad father. You're far from it,” you tell him. No, you insist. He needs to listen because it’s the truth. “You're decent. You're human. You have a soul and a heart, which my father didn't have, and that's what a monster is,” you say. “You loved Jamie, and you love Anna. You're grieving, and you're hurting because you loved Jamie, and it's tearing you apart.  I get that. Trust me, I do, because the little girl I was talking about, my sister? Yeah, I was the one who raised her, so when she died, it felt like I was burying my own child. You're allowed to feel all the pain you fucking want, but don't you dare compare yourself to a monster like my father is. You're not a bad father because you're nothing like him. So just shut up...please!”

You slack with your back against the kitchen counter. You said it all in one breath. You feel a little dizzy, and the panic makes your mind swirl. What did you just do?

You take a moment to process, but you can't, not really, because the wave of the endless ocean crashes into you and you've never learned how to swim, so you're drowning now, and no one seems to be close enough to save you. Not that you want to be saved, but it's your father's voice that's haunting you, and you keep seeing your own failures right before your eyes every time you close them. You have nowhere to go but to surrender. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “I didn't mean to...I just...I...”

You can't breathe. You collapse into a nearby chair, your body trembling as you struggle to regain control. Michael's eyes are wide, a mix of shock and realization filling them. The silence between you is suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of your revelations. But the air keeps getting thinner, and the water is up to your lungs by now. You feel like you're dying, and none of the things you keep telling yourself, the rational things, are working. You're officially lost at sea. 

Michael reaches out to touch your shoulder, but you flinch away, instinctively recoiling from any physical contact.

Your breathing is rapid, and you feel the need to move. Without a word, you push yourself up from the chair and pace back and forth, your hands shaking.

“I'm sorry,” you begin again, and you try not to yell so much this time. “I never meant to hurt you the other night. I didn't want to push you away. I never fall in love, I keep people at a distance, and it hurts, but that's why I choose bad men to hurt me so it makes things easier.”

Your voice is thick with tears. “You're not like that. And I don't know what it's like to be loved or have someone so willing to protect me by my side,” you say. “It's just so scary, Michael! I panicked when you found the file, and everything just spiraled out of control. I wanted to tell you, but then I didn't, and I just reacted because that's what always happens. I never had anyone to talk to about it. I...It triggered me, and then I got drunk, and then I...I fucked up, okay? I've been carrying this burden for so long, and I didn't know how to share it, or how to trust anyone with the truth, so I kept it hidden. I was so alone..."

Your words spill out in a torrent, your sentences blending together as your desperation takes hold.

“It's been six years, and I've kept it all inside, the truth about what happened to my sister, the truth about our father. I have no proof,” you admit. “I tried finding it, but I eventually gave up, and I moved–and my other sister is all alone in that hellhole and I've been trying to get her back, but he...he told me he'd kill me if I ever got near her or that case again, and I stopped because I saw no point, but I...I got drunk–” Your voice cracks and you choke on a broken sob.

“It's dangerous to know, and I don't even know what I'm doing, but I thought it best to do it alone than drag anyone into it,” – You sniffle, wiping your cheeks furiously, but the tears continue to fall – “You were so caught up with your own shit, with Anna, and this could hurt you and her and I can't let that happen,” you say. “I couldn't...but I don't know what to do anymore. I'm scared, Michael. I'm so scared...”

The weight becomes too much to bear. Your legs weaken, and you stumble, your body threatening to crumble under the overwhelming weight of your pain. You start seeing dark spots from the leg of oxygen, and you start to think that that's it. It's over. Just as you're about to collapse, Michael moves swiftly, catching you in his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he says. “I've got you. Deep breaths.”

He can feel your body trembling against his. Your heartbeat is hammering against your ribcage. He can feel the weakness of your muscles due to the lack of air, and his fingers dig into your skin a little more to make you feel something other than the fear that is keeping the sobs stuck in your throat. 

“It's alright…” He cradles the back of your neck and pulls you closer, urging you to listen to his own heartbeat to ground yourself. “You’re safe now. I'm here. Just breathe with me, slowly. In and out.”

You reach out for the lifeline thrown at you. Another wave hits you, but you make it to the surface to hold onto the rope. It's steady and strong, and you cling to it. With each breath, his steady rhythm begins to synchronize with yours, and the chaos within you starts to calm.

He brushes a gentle hand through your hair. “Shh,” his lips press to your ear, “Keep breathin’. That’s it. Good girl.”

You shudder. “I’m so sorry,” you whimper in his arms. You’re a mess of snot and tears, but he still doesn’t pull away.

“No,” it’s his turn to tell you, “You have nothin’ to apologize for.”

“But I hurt you. I pushed you away–”

“Water under the bridge,” he says. 

“No, that’s not how it should be! You should hate me. You should–”

His hands find your face and he holds you rather sternly, forcing you to meet his eyes, even though he looks blurry. “Hey, listen to me!” You try to struggle out of his grip, but he’s stronger. “Listen,” he says, “I love ya with all I have, and I haven’t said tha to anyone in a very long time. You were hurt, you were traumatized and in pain, and tha is not your fault, do you hear me? It’s not your fault. It never was.”

His words penetrate the chaos swirling within you, reaching the core of your being. The strength of his love and unwavering support begins to chip away at the walls you've built around yourself. It's a fragile and delicate process, but it's a start.

You take a shaky breath, allowing his words to sink in. His presence anchors you. The panic begins to subside. You sync your breathing with his.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “That’s it. You’re doing great. Just keep breathin’. I’ve got ya.”

Michael lowers his forehead against yours, his hands never leaving your face, and you hold onto his strong arms, afraid he might not be there if you let go. “I know it's overwhelming,” he says, “But yer safe here with me. You don't have ta carry this burden alone anymore. I'm here, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect ya and help yer sister. But for tha, I need you to trust me and let me in.”

You sniffle, meeting his eyes with your teary ones. “Will you let me in, too?” you ask in return, your voice hoarse from crying. 

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I’ll let ya in. I’ll tell ya anythin’ you wanna know. Just ask.”

You let out a shaky breath. The weight that had been pressing on your chest finally begins to lift.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. “For not leaving.”

Michael's lips curl into a soft smile, and he brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I'd never leave ya.”

You lean into his touch. As the minutes tick by, you both remain entwined. No words are needed. The softness of his touch and the steady rhythm of your breathing become a symphony, gently mending the cracks in your heart.

With your head resting against his chest, you listen to the steady beat of his heart. The world outside may be chaotic, but in his arms, you belong.

“I love you,” you confess. It feels like the first time you shared those three words to each other.

His grip on you tightens. “I love you too,” he says back without hesitation. “So fuckin’ much,” he says. “You have no idea.”

You realize something then: You were never alone. It just took you far too long to open your eyes and see him right in front of you. He has been there from the beginning and you didn’t realize. You were almost too late.

As it turns out, telling the truth isn’t as bad as you first expected it to be. At least not with Michael because he truly loves you and you believe him now that he would do anything to keep you safe. Why it took you so long, you don’t know, but you still curse yourself for it.

In the warm cocoon of his arms, you allow yourself to breathe. You allow yourself to finally let go of everything. “We have to talk, don't we?” you break the serene silence, your voice still barely above a whisper.

He nods. “Yeah, we do.”

“Okay–” You straighten your shoulders. “Let’s talk then.”

It has been a long time coming for you to finally trust each other enough to talk. It won’t be easy, but the stakes are higher now, and you have proven to be able to stand through everything together, so a little conversation would be the last thing to break you apart. There are worse dangers out there, and you would face them, together. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @acharliecoxedfan @glowstick-lesbian @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky