#and it’s all just been piling up too since I got home because I’ve been having a lot of conversations and seeing a lot of people that

[hobisexually]

long winded rant in the tags coming that’s partly about weight but in a very unfiltered sad way so if that triggers you do Not read on

[storiesforallfandoms]

making amends ~ bucky barnes;marvel

word count: 2528

request?: no

description: in which she finds out that their three year relationship started by him trying to make amends for his brainwashed past

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angsty angst, use of y/n, mentions of bucky’s winter soldier past, mentions of an incident that left the reader in critical condition

masterlist (one, two, three)

(Y/N) placed the basket of clothes on her and Bucky’s bed. Bucky was away, and she had the day off, so she decided to do a clean of the whole house. She had just finished a load of laundry that had been waiting to be washed for at least two weeks. That included Bucky’s laundry, which he usually did himself but he had also let it pile up the last few weeks.

After folding it, (Y/N) turned to Bucky’s dresser to put his clothes away. When she opened the top drawer, she noticed something tucked away. She pulled it out and found it was a small moleskin journal. She hadn’t seen it before. Before she could consider what it might be for, or why Bucky might be hiding it away, she opened it.

It was a list of names. (Y/N) didn’t recognize any of them, but they were undoubtably written in Bucky’s writing. There were pages of names, some of which were crossed out. (Y/N) knew about Bucky’s past - about being a man out of time who was once a brainwashed weapon for Hydra. She began to wonder if these names were people he once knew. Maybe family of his old friends from the 40s, or whoever was still alive from then.

That seemed like a reasonable explanation, until she saw her name was one of the ones crossed out.

She backed up until her legs collided with the bed. She fell back to a sit, staring long and hard at her own name.

Why am I included in Bucky’s journal? she thought. Was he looking for me? And if so, why?

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Bucky coming home. Suddenly, he was stood in the doorway to the bedroom. (Y/N) looked up at him, still with a look of confusion on her face. Bucky had been smiling, but when his eyes fell onto the book, his smile faded. His reaction made her heart sink. She would feel guilty for looking through his stuff under different circumstances, but now all she could think of was what the journal was for.

Bucky broke their silence first, “Where’d you find that?”

“It was in your top drawer,” she replied. Quickly, she added, “I found it while putting the laundry away. I didn’t think...” She trailed off, looking back down at the book. “What is this?”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair and sighed. There was no use in lying about it. He had to come clean eventually. “You know how we’ve talked about my time as the Winter Soldier? All the bad I did while I was under their control?”

She nodded. Of course, how could she ever forget? He had opened up to her very early on in their relationship about what he had gone through under Hydra’s control. He told her because he said he didn’t want to keep secrets from her, and he wanted to give her the opportunity to leave before the relationship got too serious if what he did changed her opinion on him. It was a shock, especially since she was a former SHIELD agent who had heard plenty of stories about the infamous Winter Soldier, but she assured him that her opinion on him hadn’t changed. “You are not that person,” she ahd told him.

“When Shuri deprogrammed me,” he explained, “and when I started going to therapy, my therapist suggested finding a way to make amends for all the bad I did. That book is a list of people I hurt...or-or killed as the Winter Soldier. I’ve met with most of them, or their remaining families, and done whatever I could do to make amends.”

(Y/N) looked at all the names again. All people from Bucky’s past. People he hurt when he didn’t even have control over his own body and mind. The crossed out names were people he felt he had made amends with.

Her name was one of the ones crossed out.

“Why am I here?” she asked. Her voice was so soft he may not have heard it if he didn’t have enhanced hearing.

“Do you remember that mission you went on that resulted in you leaving SHIELD?”

(Y/N) tensed. She remembered, although very slightly. She had some gaps in her memory from that night, but she remembered the most important part: that she had almost died.

The details of the mission were one of the foggy things. All she could remember was being sent to a supposed Hydra base with other SHIELD agents. She had gone off by herself. She was moving down what she thought was an empty hallway. That’s where her memory stopped. Next thing she knew, she had woken up in a hospital bed days later. Fury didn’t tell her many details, just that she was attacked and nearly lost her life. Another agent had luckily found her before it was too late.

Fury had offered to let (Y/N) be off as long as she needed. He assured her that her job would be waiting for her when she was ready to come back. Instead, (Y/N) quit on the spot.

When she finally dared to look up at Bucky, she saw that he was crying. She had been holding back her own emotions, but seeing Bucky break was enough to make her finally break too.

“It was me,” Bucky admitted, his voice breaking. “I did that to you.”

(Y/N)’s hands clutched the journal. She was tempted to rip it to shred and leave the pieces scattered all over the bedroom floor. Their bedroom floor. The bedroom in the house that they had bought together nearly a year ago.

“Was any of it real?”

She didn’t mean to say it out loud. It was a thought that slipped through her filter before she could stop herself. But it was also a question she needed an answer on. She had already spent three years of her life with Bucky, and had planned to spend the rest of it with him, too. But if all of this was just a way for him to “make amends” with her...that would’ve hurt her worse than finding out that the man she loved was the reason she almost died.

Although, that wasn’t Bucky. That’s what she had been telling him since he first told her about the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t in control, he didn’t know what he was doing. He was made to think he was a weapon to be used against anyone Hydra viewed as an enemy, and at that point in time, (Y/N) was the enemy in question.

But it was Bucky who had lied to her for three years. Post-brainwashed Bucky, who knew this whole time that he had hurt her when he was under Hydra’s spell. Who had sought her out to “make amends”, and just so happened to end up in a relationship with her.

Bucky seemed hurt by the question. “Of course! Of course, all of it was real. All of this is real.”

“You say that like it’s an outrageous thing to ask, but how can I not think that maybe this is how you decided to ‘make amends’ with me?”

She was standing now. She didn’t even notice she had stood, but now she was looking Bucky in the eye.

“Three years, Buck,” she continued. “We’ve been together for three years. You had so much time to tell me this, and you never did. Were you ever going to? Or were you just going to let me believe that we met by chance in a grocery store and fell in love and it was all happily ever after?”

“I tried to tell you,” he said. “When I first told you about my past, I wanted to tell you then. That was the whole reason I told you. But then you were being so understanding and kind, and you were making me feel less like a monster, I just...I couldn’t. I thought if I told you then...that you wouldn’t have been as understanding.”

“Bucky, I’m not upset or mad or scared of you because of what happened. I know that wasn’t you. That’s what I’ve been saying for ages, that you’re not the Winter Soldier. What I am upset about is that you didn’t tell me about this amends thing. You didn’t even mention that it was something you did. I had to find out three years into our relationship, which now has me questioning whether or not this whole thing was just a way for you to make amends with me.”

“No! No, (Y/N), it’s not - ”

He reached out for her and she took a step back. They both paused as (Y/N) realized what she did. She had done it out of anger, but the look in Bucky’s eyes told her that he was afraid she was doing it out of fear, too. That one look was enough to make her anger turn to sympathy. She was still angry, and she was sure that anger wasn’t going anywhere, but she could understand Bucky’s hesitance in telling her about the attack. That just wasn’t the issue she was currently having.

“How did you plan to make amends with me?” she asked. “Because if taking me out on that first date was your plan, I’m going to be so upset and hurt - ”

“No, not at all,” he cut her off. “We met ages before I asked you on a date, remember? You said it yourself, it was at the grocery store.”

“Had you been looking for me, though? Was that actually a chance encounter, or did you look for me?”

He hesitated before responded, “I had looked for you. You were one of the few people who were already in New York, so I went looking to find out where you lived and figured out which places you were likely to visit in that area. I didn’t follow you or anything, but I did go to some of those places frequently to try and run into you.”

(Y/N) didn’t think about the slight creepy and stalker way that sounded. She had to remind herself he was saying he didn’t do that to try and start a relationship with her.

“We got to talking, and you told me about the issues you were having in your apartment,” he said. “You said your landlord was a piece of shit and didn’t offer any help whenever you needed it. So, I offered to help. Remember, I was there basically a whole day just fixing whatever issues you had?”

She remembered. She had been hesitant to accept the offer from a strange man she had only met moments before in a grocery store, but her old apartment was basically falling apart. She had done the best she could to fix whatever she knew how, but there were still so many issues, and her landlord kept blowing her off whenever she had talked to him about it. She was desperate. Not to mention she still had her SHIELD training if Bucky had ended up trying to pull anything while he was there.

“That was my amends,” he told her. “I knew it could never measure up to what I did to you, but it was something you needed done and I helped you. I crossed you off the list then and there, and I completely left you alone. I hadn’t thought about you for months after that, until...”

“Until we ran into each other on the street,” she remembered.

It was three or four months after Bucky had fixed up her apartment when she saw a familiar face walking the packed sidewalk of New York. She had been the one to initiate the conversation then. Bucky hadn’t even seemed to notice her until she waved him down and called out his name.

“And you basically begged for my number so we could keep in contact,” he reminded her. “I tried to stay away. I knew it was wrong, sick even, for me to get involved with you at all. But you had these big, pleading eyes, and you wouldn’t really take no for an answer. And then we got to talking, and one thing led to another and I found myself asking you on a date.”

When Bucky stepped towards her, reaching for her again, (Y/N) didn’t pull away. Instead, she let him take her into his arms. He was slow, giving her the option to pull away if she wanted to, and when she didn’t he pulled her all the way to him. She rested her head on his chest as he put his chin on the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry I never told you,” he said. “I know I should’ve. It’s eaten away at me for so long. But at time went on, I just fell more and more in love, and I was scared. I was selfish. You never should’ve had to find out this way.”

(Y/N) sighed. “No, I shouldn’t have. You should’ve told me when things really started to get serious. Especially about the amends stuff.”

“I know. I’m sorry, doll.” He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair. “I understand if you need time to process everything. Like I said, I know it was wrong to pursue a relationship after what I did to you - ”

“How many times will I have to remind you that you are not the Winter Soldier?” she asked, pulling away so she could look at him. “Honestly, knowing that doesn’t affect our relationship. I fell in love with Bucky Barnes, the kind man who is carrying such a large burden on his shoulders because of other people who are actually evil. That part of the story isn’t what upsets me. It’s finding out that I was on an amendment list and not knowing how much of this relationship was actually real.”

Bucky cupped her face with his flesh hand, almost like he was afraid of her reaction to his metal arm now that she knew the truth. “All of it is real. I love you so, so much, (Y/N). I can’t imagine my life without you.”

She leaned into his touch. “I love you, too.”

He pulled her in for a kiss, but she pulled away. “You’ll have to add me back to that list.”

He looked at her, confused. “What?”

“After learning about all of this, you have to make a new amendment with me. Say, breakfast in bed? Oh, or maybe that puppy you keep conveniently forgetting we agreed to get?”

He smiled and pulled her to him again. When he kissed her, she didn’t pull away.

“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give you the whole world if it proves to you how much I love you.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Let’s start smaller with the puppy instead.”

Bucky chuckled. “Deal. We’ll go to the pound next week.”

“Tomorrow.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

kalena speakss 🪽! chapter in honor of game day! but it’s not looking too good for our faves i fear.

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“Can you open the door?”

“In a second, K! Be patient!”

“We need to talk, open this door!” Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.

I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me she’d be visiting.

I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. “What?”

“We need to talk about your birthday show.”

The show is something we’ve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?

“What about it, K?”

“So Summer backed out.” She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. “Something came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.”

“That all could’ve been a text message. Or a phone call.” I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. “Why are you here?”

“What, you don’t want me here? Julian around or something?”

My eyes can’t help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.

“No he’s at a conference in Philly— are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?” I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though I’m waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.” She says. “You sure you didn’t mess with it?”

I try to avoid looking at her. I’m a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s suspicious, and though I don’t know of what it’s still incredibly nerve wracking.

“Yeah. Not at all.” Which technically isn’t a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.

Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like she’s weighing odds in her head. “And what’s his name is in Philly, yes?”

“Yes. Kaylee, what’s up with all the—”

The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. “So then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.”

In all honesty, I could’ve kept the lie going. I should’ve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I could’ve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.

“Raye, I’m not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.” She reassures me.

“No, no, you’re definitely gonna be mad.”

“Was it Paige?” I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, she’s covering her mouth incredulously. “Raye, no.” She whines.

“I’m sorry!” I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I don’t regret anything.

“You’re gay?”

“I don’t think that’s the most important topic at hand.”

“Right, sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.

Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.

I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.

I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.

The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.

“Those pictures. Were you guys—”

“No, we weren’t doing anything then. I promise.” I reassured. Kaylee isn’t even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; I’ve known her long enough to know that look. “I dunno, she just makes me feel different.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldn’t understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl I’ve known for a month and a half. There really isn’t an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesn’t feel like it.

Paige doesn’t feel like a mistake, I couldn’t ever classify her as one.

The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. “Different? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?”

“We haven’t slept together, K.”

She raises her head gingerly. “Wait so...” Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly I’m even more aware of the bruises on my neck. “You’re telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that you’re just friends, when you’re not. But you haven’t slept with her and might have feelings for her?”

“It’s complicated, Kaylee. I—”

“It’s messy, Raye, that’s what it is!” She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. “You can’t be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.”

I don’t hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You don’t know that! Y’think she can’t be pillow talking someone else right now?”

I haven’t even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isn’t like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isn’t who she is.

“You’re still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isn’t messing with someone else either?” Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.”

I do know better. I’ve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.

I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. “Fucking hell.” I mumble under my breath.

“You need to make a choice, babe. It can’t be both, you know that.”

I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. “Yeah, I know.” I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldn’t have.

She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.

Then there’s Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.

I’m fucking screwed.

—

marayemusic

liked by paigebueckers, julianbaker_, and 2,307 others

marayemusic music video coming soon 🕯️?

view all comments | 2 minutes ago

—

June 2025 — Malibu, California

“Two minutes is crazy, P.”

“Shut up. Quit being nosy.” I responded.

We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.

“I’m not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” Nika hums. She’s smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. “Those photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.”

“Definitely not a girlfriend. It’s complicated, Nik.” I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. “She got a boyfriend.”

Nika’s jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julian’s relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didn’t think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.

“Are you being serious.” Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.

“Oh yeah. Deadass serious.”

“Paige.”

“I swear it’s not my fault.” I shake my head in defense. “She just— it’s literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.”

Nika doesn’t even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I can’t help but laugh with her. If I wasn’t in this position, I probably would’ve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl who’s in a relationship, and allegedly straight. It’s truly comical.

“Oh my God, you’re pussy whipped!”

“Chill!” I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. “I haven’t even had sex with her, Nik. This ain’t what you think it is.”

She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. “You know what this reminds me of?” Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. “This reminds me of Nyla.”

I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. We’d slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasn’t that.

Maraye wasn’t anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.

“There’s been many other girls since Nyla, y’know that right?” I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about your slut activities, P.” She brushes me off.

“You asked!” I counter.

“My point is, you’re letting yourself get in too deep again.” She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. “I’m not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I don’t care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.”

My leg bounces soundly under the table. It’s a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, we’re doing all that we’re doing while she goes back home to Julian.

“I can never figure her out.” I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. “I dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if I’m jus’ a distraction for him.”

“You caught feelings for her, didn’t you.”

I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.

I think I do have feelings for Raye. She’s all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. I’m searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs I’m thinking that it doesn’t sound like hers, or how someone’s perfume doesn’t smell as good as her’s does.

“I feel something for her, that’s for damn sure.” I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. “I needa clear my head, I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.”

Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

“What?” I ask.

“Not thinking straight. Get it.”

I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. “Ha ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.”

“You said it, not me!” The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. “All I’m saying, is that you don’t deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.”

I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isn’t the case. She isn’t my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.

I don’t know how to be second best. I’ve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether it’s basketball or anything else in life, I’d rather be dead last than second best.

So to know that Julian is Maraye’s first choice, and I’m forced to be second is fucking unbearable.

Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I don’t know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasn’t texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.

“P?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?” Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.

I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. “Yeah, fine. How’s recovery goin’?” I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

M!troll x f!reader

1.2k words

(Also, ask box is always open, I am literally always vibrating out of my skin to talk about this man)

--------

Sometime ago Zen’jan had stopped purring and seemed to be entirely asleep on your lap. You kept combing out his hair as long as you could, stopping only when you could not reach anymore because how he was laying back. It was a marvel just how much hair he was shedding, your lap was covered in green hairs and you had amassed quite a pile next to you as you cleaned out the comb.

With his head tilted on your lap one of his ears was sticking up, much longer and pointier than an elf’s, and you could not help tracing your finger along the edge. Midway up his ear there was a sizable tear and numerous nicks all up and down the sides. He sighed in his sleep while you played with his ear, maybe one day you would get up the courage to do things like that when he was awake too.

He seemed happy, a strange realization you had as you watched him doze. Sure he had smiled and joked with you a bit in the last month, but this was different, this was actual genuine happiness.

And it was weird to realize you were pretty happy too. For the first time in your life you were able to go where you wanted and do what you wanted. You had free reign to roam the city without being dogged by attendants chaperoning you around and deciding where you were allowed. You could go where you wanted, talk to who you wanted, just do what you wanted.

Maybe what was the most weird was without a doubt you knew Zen cared about you. You were not sure if you could call it love, from either of you, but he truly did everything he could to take care of you.

Your hand drifted from his ear back to his hair, he was shedding much less now as you ran your fingers through it. It was the dense, thick second layer to his hair seemed to be what was mainly shedding, then there were the longer strands that laid on top and gave his hair its length. You found yourself just absentmindedly playing with his hair while you got lost in your thoughts.

“Having fun?”

Startled, you looked down to see Zen looking back up at you smiling.

“You do not have to wait until I fall asleep to touch me you know” he continued.

“How long have you been awake?” you asked.

“Since you were touching my ear”.

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No, it felt nice and I figured you would stop if you knew I was awake”

He was right. You were not sure why but you still felt embarrassed by it.

“Are you getting hungry? I did not mean to fall asleep again, so by now you must be starving” he asked.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast yesterday”.

“Would you prefer to stay home and rest, or would you like to come with me?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, part of you just wanted to wrap up in blankets and stay in the warmth and safety of your home, the other part of you did not like the idea of being left alone.

“I’ll come with you” you decided.

The two of you walked the streets of the market quarter of the city, Zen close enough to be brushing against you at all times. It seemed he was making up for lost time now that you were comfortable with him touching you.

He happily let you lead the way to any food stalls that caught your attention and translated for you so you could ask questions about any foods you were not familiar with. It was a nice change just to walk around with him eating street food and chatting, sure you were still exhausted, but this was a good distraction.

“You just let me know where you want to go and what you want to do” he said and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

You yelped, your shoulder stung and felt raw when he touched it.

“I am so sorry, did I grab you too hard?” he asked, panicked by your reaction.

“No, no it’s not that, just stings” you said.

“Let me see” carefully he tugged the collar of your shirt aside to check on your shoulder, “How did you not feel this before, look”

You looked at the top of your shoulder, your skin was bright red and angry and stung where his fingers accidentally grazed it. The redness continued down the top part of your arm.

“From the sun yesterday, since your shoulders and arms were not really covered” he said, “We can get something for it on the way home”.

The two of you continued your walk, Zen insisting on buying all sorts of sweets and snacks for later. He paused in front of a small shop before ducking inside with you in tow. Herbs and plants overflowed from shelves and hung from the ceiling and an older troll woman sat behind the counter.

She called out in the troll language to the two of you and you smiled politely, not knowing what she said.

Zen however immediately launched into an animated conversation. You smiled while you watched him, he was much livelier speaking his own language, gesturing with his hands and emoting. You loved listening to him speak even if you did not know what he was saying, he always seemed happier using his language versus his stiff common.

The two of you left the shop with a small jar of something and made your way home.

“May I?” he asked as the two of you sat together at home on the bed. He was holding the little jar from the shop and gesturing to your shoulder.

You tugged the edge of your collar aside and Zen quickly got to applying whatever was in the jar. It was cold against your skin, but did help take the sting away. Gently he continued, moving on to your other shoulder and both arms. It was nice a nice feeling as he sat behind you, the quiet sort of intimacy of just helping someone.

You leaned back against him, resting your back on his chest and he lowered his head down on top of yours. You reached up and offered him some of the pastry you had been eating, though instead he planted a few soft kisses along the inside of your wrist, his gentle show of affection made your heart flutter a bit.

“Are you happy, Zen?” you asked.

“I am” his lips were still against your wrist as he spoke, “Are you?”

You thought about it again. You were in a city where you did not speak the language, your husband followed the lord of shadows and you were still avoiding unpacking your feelings about that, and in the last month you really had only made one friend. But you were happy, more than anything you were free.

“I am” you said.

“Good” he nuzzled the top of your head, “Do I still need to sleep on the floor?” he teased.

You turned sideways a bit and buried your face into his chest, “No, I think I really liked sleeping together earlier” you could not look at him while you admitted it.

“I am happy that you feel comfortable with me now”

You could hear his soft purr as he spoke.

Part 13

[bullet-prooflove]

Safe: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Umbrella - Gibbs gets more than he bargained for when he offers you his umbrella.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

The thing that Gibbs likes most about you is that you don’t give damn about what anybody else thinks. That becomes blatantly obvious over the months he continues works with you. You’re a consummate professional, a fierce victim advocate and the most compassionate woman he’s ever met.

The way you speak to the families, it’s an art form.

He could only wish for more people like you. People who haven’t become desensitised by everything they’ve seen. People who still give a shit.

“I don’t know how you do it.” He says to you one night over drinks at a bar he’s already forgotten the name of. “How do you stay sane after seeing so much death?”

Meeting up like this, it’s starting to become a regular thing between the two of you. You’ve been doing it ever since the day you ran into each other at the cemetery. Most nights he grabs a few drinks with his team but Thursdays, he reserves those especially for you.

“I know that people think I’m cold, detached…” You say as you swirl the ice cubes around whiskey glass. “But when I look down at them, I see the person they were. Lieutenant Colchester’s calloused fingers from where he played guitar, the scar on Ensign Lopez’s knee from a cycling accident. They all had hobbies, a life, people who care about them.” You take a sip from the glass. “I guess that makes me driven.”

“It’s a good way to be.” Gibbs tells you, his gaze meeting yours. “You fight for them, even when the lead on the case tells you, you shouldn’t.”

He’s talking about the blow up they all overheard coming from Family and Sexual Violence and Threat Management Unit this afternoon. You have a dead Corporal on your table and Special Agent in Charge LaRue is shoving the file to the bottom of the pile because the deceased used to be hook to put food on the table before she joined the service.

“I’m gonna be person non-grata in that department for a very long time.” You state as you signal to the bartender for another round. “They’ve already requested another M.E.”

“It was the right thing to do.” Gibbs tells you as if it’s something irrefutable.

That’s one of the reasons you like about spending time with Gibbs. There’s no platitudes, there’s only frankness. He’s a man without an agenda and you can not express just how refreshing that is.  

“I know.” You say, pushing your used glass away from you. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I thought it would bring any of them justice.”

You damn well would too, he knows it.

It’s an hour later that he begins to tug on his jacket. It’s the same everytime. Eleven o’clock hits and he walks you home. Only tonight you aren’t pulling on your coat, your still sitting there, your finger tracing around the top of the glass you’ve been drinking from.

“Maeve?” He questions, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“I think I’m gonna stay a while.” You tell him and he sits back down on his stool.

“Alright, well I’ve got nowhere else to be-”

“Jethro.” You say softly, your hand coming to rest on top of his ensuring you have his full attention. “You know that feeling you get, that frustration that builds and builds until you end up starting a fight. I get that too, only I fuck it out.”

“Oh.” He says as it dawns on him. “I’m cock blocking you.”

“You look like a big strapping Marine, ready to beat the shit out of anyone that approaches me.” You inform him and he supposes he kinda does.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I feel…” He begins because his momma taught him a lot better than to leave a woman alone in a bar.

“It’s not about your comfort.” You remind him, your voice turning brittle. “It’s about me getting what I need and what I need is to get fucked.”

He doesn’t like it, not because of the sex but rather the danger it presents. You’ll be taking home you don’t know, someone who could hurt you or worse. He also knows he can’t stop you, that you’re going to do this no matter what he says because it is a need, one that he recognises all too well.

“Will you call me or page me?” He asks you as he raises to his feet once again. “Just so I know you’re safe.”

You sigh, rapping your fingertips upon the surface on the table. He gets the feeling you aren’t used to people actually giving a shit about you. Well tough, he does and you’re just gonna have to get used to that.

“Maybe.” You concede. “If you leave within the next five minutes.”

Maybe…

That’s the best he’s gonna get for now.

It’s a couple of hours later that his pager chirps. He’s doing push ups in the dark on the bedroom floor, trying to chase away the images of another man touching you, tasting you, fucking you. He’s not a jealous man but he is protective, he would go to hell and back for the people he cares about and apparently you’re one of them. He picks up the tiny black device, his gaze fixating on the letters as they scroll across screen.

S-A-F-E.

Safe.

Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[angelofsmalldeaath]

I don’t know if your taking requests but I would love to read something about taking a bath with Andrew 🥰 anyway, I love you’re writing!!

this is genuinely the freakiest coincidence because i wrote half of this last night, wayyy before getting this request!! anon we share the same braincell

also thank you sm for reading!! i appreciate you very much 🤎🤎

cw: nudity (non-sexual), sappy and sickly sweet but at this point if you're coming here expecting anything else...idk what to tell you

“ah, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he shuts the bathroom door behind him, shuts his eyes too and sighs for a long moment. 

i flick some of my bath bubbles at him and squawk in mock outrage. “i’m naked in here, you know?”

still leaning against the door, he half-opens his eyes and smirks, “that supposed to deter me, darling?”

i take him in properly then—hair slipping out of his bun, messy, unruly, like he’s ran his hands through it quite a lot today. the sleeves of his sweaters are pushed up to his elbows. ink stains his fingers, calluses litter the palm of his hands. 

“there’s no way the two of us are fitting in this together,” i laugh, “we’d spill water everywhere!”

“i’ll clean it,” he protests without missing a beat. “let me in? please?”

softness creeps into his features, the kind that melts my heart until it’s nothing but a beating mess at his feet. “get in,” i smile, “i’ve got a eucalyptus bubble bath going.”

sluggishly he begins to get out of his clothes—socks at first, tossed in one corner of the bathroom, then the sweater joins the pile. i stare at him, a bit mesmerised, at his stomach and chest and arms. all that skin on display, skin that i have touched and caressed and kissed a million times. and yet i feel breathless. 

a moment later, he kneels by the tub, still in his jeans, and flicks a thumb at the corner of my lips. “got a bit of drool there, baby.”

i flush, and he steals a kiss, smug and satisfied. 

“don’t be evil,” i pout, “i’ll uninvite you!”

“mm-hmm, and are you capable of that?”

i roll my eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping onto my face once again. it takes him a few more seconds to pull down his jeans, his boxers, and then i slide forward and make room for him. 

the regret is instant. “oh my god,” i scrunch my eyes shut as water floods the bathroom, drenching the edges of his discarded clothes. all he does is laugh—impish and full of mischief. “god you’re lucky i love you!”

“i am,” he kisses the nape of my neck once he settles behind me, “i really am.”

his skin is warm when i settle against him. he smells like he always does—his cologne, day old now, the fabric softener he’s used since long before i knew him, and something that is entirely and inexplicably him. i breathe in deep until it fills my lungs, until the smell of eucalyptus almost disappears from the room. 

“how was your day?” 

“honestly?” he sighs, and starts a vague soapy doodle on my thigh. “it was a lot. not quite so physically, just…emotionally. i couldn’t wait to get back home to you.”

“yeah? that bad?”

“just hard…not bad. never bad.”

i nod, and trace a vein on his arm, leaving a soapy trail behind. silence settles over us for a few moments, occasionally broken by his small sighs. it’s nice, this—being able to feel his heartbeat against my body. absently, he hums a tune, something i haven’t heard before. 

“that’s new,” i lean my head against his chest, relish the vibrations of his humming travelling through my body. “is it?”

“it is. nothing concrete, just something i’ve been toying around with.”

“‘s nice, sweet.”

“you think so?” he asks and i nod. after another moment of silence, he chuckles lightly, then tightens his hold on me. “maybe i’ll use it for a song about you. that’s a nice idea, isn’t it?”

“i didn’t know there were songs about me,” i giggle, and kiss the back of his hand, once and then once again for good measure. 

“there are always songs about you,” he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, kissing the spot where my pulse is quite obvious. “in my head or my notebooks or on any scraps of paper i can get my hands on. always you.”

like he so often does, he leaves me speechless—stuck between blushing and welling up—until he flicks bubbles on me and the moment dissolves away. 

“we should just get takeaway,” he declares innocently, like he hasn’t left me with a lump in my throat. “i just want to be lazy with you.”

i clear my throat, shake my head. “takeaway it is. i can order while you clean the bathroom, right?” i bite my lip and keep the laugh in. 

he groans, huffs on my shoulder. “god, you’re lucky i love you!”

“i am,” i kiss his knuckles softly, knowing i mean every single word of it. “i really am.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne, Feb. 16, 2012

It’s been exactly sixteen days since I found out that father went missing. It’s been fifteen days since I last wrote to you. I’m still waiting for an answer. Just in case, however, I’ve started to keep a closer eye on things here in Illinois. Once I’ve got an information network kind-of up and running, I’ll hopefully be able to keep an eye on a much larger area than just one state.

I can’t believe it took me this long to set up a web.

You’ll notice that there’s no return address on this letter. On the off chance that father going missing involves the Shadows somehow, I’ve decided to let this line drop. When If you decide to write to me again, the return will be the same as it was before. It’ll be the best way to reach me, unless you want to use the number from my first letter.

I have anything in my P.O. Box delivered to a secondary location where I can pick it up, as I told you before. I’ll check there as frequently as I can.

أتمنى أن يكون كل شيء على ما يرام

***

The letters were given to Damian by Alfred just as his Father had always been handed mail. They were set on a tray on a table near the front door and brought to the dining table just before lunch was served.

The mail had been piling up recently. Sure, they all saw the letters on the dining table, but no one had the energy to look at the names written on them. Fortunately, the ones on the top were addressed to Damian. Unfortunately, everything aside from the death of his Father had been pushed to his mind. It could all wait.

It wasn’t confirmed that Father was dead. In fact, their story for the public is that he was kidnapped, that they had hired some private investigators to look for him, and that they would pay any ransom asked as long as it was within their capabilities. It had been a long shot, but it was their final act of desperation. They were all prepared for the worst, though. Waiting for confirmation, evidence, that Father was truely dead was like waiting for the blade of a guillotine to fall. They would likely have to call it if he didn’t show up by year’s end.

Damian had only just gotten his Father, and now he was losing him. It wasn’t fair! Sent so far from home and to the house of a stranger, only to lose the man just as he’s getting attached! It was cruel. He could not bear the thought, so he ignored the letters with his father’s name. He ignored the letters with his name because he now held his father’s name.

Grayson was better at hiding his grief, trying to hold everything together, but it was obvious he, too, was falling into the same pit as the rest of them, only he was going to fall deeper. As much as it pained Damian to admit, Grayson was Father’s first chosen. He knew that what he felt at the loss of his Father, Grayson was feeling worse.

It would not do to compare grief, but he couldn’t help it. Grayson had been with Father the longest. Todd, while too angry to even fleetingly consider the idea of remaining a part of the family, was still Father’s first adopted. Drake, no matter how incompetent, had been the one to keep Father and Gotham well up until now. Damian had only been there, had only known Father, for a year.

Damian remembers the grief that had warped into anger. He remembers he and the people Father and Pennyworth insist are his brothers finding themselves and each other in the Cave, each of them intent on taking the Batman Cowl. After all, Gotham will not survive without Batman. None of them took it, though no one forgot it, either.

Todd and Drake had been the first two to fight over Father’s Cowl. Damian had net been allowed a mask, but he had helped to save Drake’s life after he fought Todd. He figures it was penance for attempting to kill him within his first month at the Manor.

Grayson had met Todd on the top of a moving train. No matter how much history the two had, being brothers and colleagues, their fight was inevitable. Grayson ended as the victor after knocking Todd off of the train.

Damian remembers the week after Grayson won. He stripped Drake of the title of Robin and gave it to Damian, while he became Batman. Drake had then left the country with the new name Red Robin.

While he knew that grief shows differently across the board, he knew it followed the same five steps. He was now at Acceptance. Grayson was stuck at Depression. Todd seemed to be stuck at Anger. But Drake was still at Denial.

However, Damian knew people who have died could still be alive. Grandfather, Danyal, and Todd. All three had died, and yet all three now walk amongst the living. Grandfather’s heart has to stop before the Pits can work to revive him. Danyal had not died and revived in the same sense, but he had been proclaimed and mourned. Todd had been killed and buried for six months before rejoining the living, as catatonic as he may have been. Why would Father be any different? Father could’ve faked his death for one reason or another, or he could’ve really died and it was only a matter of time before he came back!

Perhaps, Damian was still in Bargaining.

Death was a concept that he was intimately familiar with. There were ways to reverse its effects, and there were ways to make it more efficient. Father disappearing could mean anything.

This was all to say that Damian believed Drake. Father could be dead, but he could be alive. For as much as he hated Drake, Damian was not going to deny the points he made. He wasn’t going to help him, though. He had other duties to attend to, such as the meeting on the Watchtower he had to attend with Grayson as Batman and Robin.

“How are things going in Gotham?” Superman asked as Batman and Robin exited the Zeta Tubes.

Batman grunted as he always did, “Fine.”

Superman frowned, following Batman to the meeting room. “Are you sure? I saw the news. Are you okay?”

“Why would I not be?” Batman asked.

“Well, uh,” It was fun to watch Superman at a loss for words. “You must’ve gotten hurt pretty bad to not go out for almost two months,” he said, “And now Bruce Wayne is missing.”

The door to the meeting room opened, letting Superman, Batman, and Robin in. All conversation stopped. “Why would I be upset about Wayne going missing?”

Damian had to commend Grayson’s performance. He’d read in Father’s files that Superman could hear heartbeats, so tricking him was quite the accomplishment. He was upset, though, that the Kryptonian had yet to notice him. Actually, it seemed none of the heroes had noticed him.

“And Nightwing’s out of commission!” The Flash chimed in from his seat.

Batman turned his glare on the speedster. “Nightwing is doing some undercover work at the moment.”

“Oh.”

Superman took his seat beside Wonder Woman, leaving Batman and Robin with one chair left. Batman took it while Robin went to the dark corner to watch.

Wonder Woman stood. “Thank you all for coming,” she said as though this wasn’t a mandatory, bi-monthly meeting, “Currently, there is no situation that requires all of our focus. Washington D.C. is as it always is, as well as Gateway City.”

“And Themyscira?” Hawkgirl asked.

“They have not reached out about any problems they cannot handle on their own.” She retook her seat, prompting Superman to stand next.

And so the meeting went. Quick debriefs from everyone about their home cities, no more than five minutes each. Just as Batman designed it. When it came to the Dark Knights turn, however, he waited a full three seconds before standing. It was the only hint that something was off, but only Kal-El noticed, though he didn’t speak up about it.

“There have been no recent Arkham breakouts,” he reported, “Bruce Wayne has gone missing. The situation, however, is under control.” A bold faced lie, but no one could call him out on it. And those who could, wouldn’t dare. “Nightwing is doing undercover work and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Red Robin is traveling for a mission of his own and won’t be around for the foreseeable future. Myself and Robin will be covering Gotham, though that does not invite any of you to operate in the city for any reason without explicit permission.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Aquaman said, “Who’s Red Robin?”

Batman blinked, the white lenses of his mask hiding it from everyone except Robin. “Red Robin.”

“Yeah,” the merman agreed, “Who is he?”

“He is Red Robin.” Batman stated.

Aquaman made to speak again, but Robin cut him off, looking at the screen on his wrist. “Batman,” he slunk from the shadows, pulling all attention to him and startling the heroes, “A message from Oracle. Conflict in Crime Alley.” Batman nodded with a grunt, sweeping out of the room. Robin followed.

“Hey, wait a second!” The Flash caught up to them quickly, stopping in front of them to cut them off. “Who is this!”

“Robin.”

“No,” The Flash shook his head, “Robin is a sickly Victorian child with a coffee addiction and a bo staff. This is not Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, “Tt. I am Robin.” He slowly pulled the katana at his hip from its sheath, just enough for the light to catch the blade. “Move.”

Batman held his arm out, not touching Robin, but catching his arm all the same. His head twitched to the right then the left. Robin resheathed his katana with another click of his tongue.

The Flash held up both of his hands and stepped back, “R-right. See you in two months?”

Neither vigilante responded, simply walking around him and back to the Zeta Tubes. Once the coords were set, they found themselves back in the Batcave. They still didn’t speak, opting to walk through the Cave and change into civvies in companionable silence. Finally, though, when they arrived in the Manor, Grayson spoke.

“You did well today,” his smile was gentle, “I was so nervous when I went to my first JL meeting! So were Jay and Tim. Steph never got to meet them, but I’m sure she would’ve been nervous, too.”

Dam 

Damian left the room a step ahead of Grayson. “Being nervous about such a trivial meeting is unnecessary. The meeting itself was pointless. You withheld information from them, they all withheld information from each other. Why do they claim to be a team if you all do not trust each other as one? It seems a pointless waste of resources.

Grayson hummed. “I couldn’t tell you why everyone withholds information, but I can tell you that it’s not a waste of resources. Even if it was, Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated fund basically everything.”

“Queen is Green Arrow, yes?” He turned into the dining room.

Grayson followed him still. “You figured it out that quickly?”

“Of course. The man is smart about his identity, but anyone who looks even a little closer than a glance at his company’s financial records would piece everything together.”

“Yeah,” Grayson chuckled, “But their tech girl is really good.”

“Better than Oracle?”

“Hey, now that’s not fair!”

“It is perfectly fair, Grayson. The children at school call it ‘home team solidarity’.” He took his pace at the table directly across from where Grayson was sitting, the head chair between them sitting empty. “So, Grayson, who is better? Felicity Smoak or Barbra Gordon?”

Pennyworth placed a plate in front of each of them, a cup following shortly after. The stack of letters in the middle of the table was three letters bigger.

Grayson huffed and stabbed his salad. “Not fair.”

Damian took the victory for what it was.

“Speaking of,” Grayson said a few moments later, “On the Watchtower, you said something about a message from Oracle? Something about Crime Alley?”

Damian swallowed his food before speaking. “Are you deaf? You were going to blow your cover, so I took the liberty of giving you a way out of the situation.”

“Aww!” Grayson cooed, “You do care!”

He huffed, moving to take another bite. “I care about not revealing our identities. Father is missing, Drake has gone off to who knows where looking for him, and you have taken the Cowl. The Justice League - a stupid name, by the way - would’ve figured out who we are if we had stayed any longer.

“‘A stupid name’ he says,” Grayson mumbled, “This coming from the kid raised by a group called the League of Assassins.” louder, he said, “You really have such little faith in my acting abilities?”

“‘League of assassins’ is the name outsiders have given it. ‘Shadows’ or ‘League of Shadow’ is the proper name.” He corrected. “And, yes. I don’t believe you could hold your cover under the scrutiny of the rest of the Justice League. You and Father have been around them enough times that they will know your tells if you do not hide them better. While you have them convinced for now, you must get better because they will know what to look for soon enough.” He took a sip of his water. “Besides, I don’t doubt that you can hide your identity as Nightwing acting as Batman from them. The line of questioning, should I have not gotten us out, would have risked our civilian identities. And, while I don’t care much for any of you, Father has taken painstaking measures to assure he is not discovered. Risking yourself risks all of us.”

Quiet permeated the room after his small speech was done. The two occupants finishing their food at a moderate pace.

The mansion was empty. In the year he’d been there, Damian had found that the Manor was always filled with noise and people. Now, however, it was just him, Grayson, and Pennyworth. Todd stayed in Crime Alley, not coming up for anything; Drake was somewhere in the world; Gordon was staying with her father for the time being; Brown had moved to Hong Kong with Cain, keeping little to no contact. Damian hated how empty it was. It reminded him of Nanda Parbat after Danyal had been pronounced dead. Barren, silent, dull.

Wayne Manor was, at its very core, a family home. Now, there was no family to fill its walls.

Reaching over, Damian picked up the letters that had been gathering for the last almost-two months. He was quick to sort through them. Father, Father, Father, Father- Damian? He set it aside. Father, Father, Damian again, Father, Damian. He set the rest down, not bothering to look through the rest of the pile. Why did he have mail? No one should be trying to-

Danyal.

How could he have forgotten? He must be so worried! Did he know what happened to Father? Was he waiting for a response? He needed to rectify this immediately.

Damian gathered his three letters and stood. “Excuse me.” He left the room, ignoring Grayson’s question of what was wrong. Quickly, he retreated to his room and sat at his desk, the envelopes glaring at him. Oddly, one of them didn’t have a return address on it, though the handwriting was the same on all of them.

He stared at the three for a little over an hour, struggling to open them. He wanted to, to see what his brother had said, but he couldn’t bring himself to add anything to his plate. Grayson and Pennyworth would not be able to handle the added stress of anything Danyal had put in his letters. He couldn’t handle whatever had been written down. Not yet, at least.

Would Danyal understand? He hoped so.

Damian tucked the three letters into the same drawer as the others, promising himself that he would read them later when he was more settled into his new role as Robin.

*

Three months later and Damian still hadn’t read the latters. They sat with the other, opened ones in the top left drawer of his desk, locked away from even himself. Every night, after patrol, he spent a good thirty minutes staring, trying to convince himself to open them, but he never did.

No follow-up letters came in, either, and that made him feel worse, somehow. Was Danyal upset with him? Was he in trouble? Was he waiting for a response? Damian didn’t know. He knew he’d have his answers if he opened the letters, but he couldn’t do it. So, they sat, tucked away, with an empty promise to read them later.

It’s not completely his fault that he hasn’t read them yet! Because it was just him and Grayson going out every night, he was working on several cases at once, while also keeping himself and Grayson alive. Pennyworth was doing what he could, but he is only one man. Brown and Cain only join them a few times a month, much more busy with their own things. Todd has stayed in Crime Alley, not even offering to branch out a few streets to help out. Gordon was still with her father, unable (or unwilling?) to act as Oracle for the time being. Not to mention that Drake was still MIA, looking for Father.

Between his duties as Robin, picking up the slack from the others, keeping himself and Grayson alive and as unharmed as they could be, and maintaining his civilian cover, could he really be blamed for not having the time to read his brother’s letters?

Yes.

There was still no news on Father. Drake was looking for him, chasing down leads that no one else had, but everyone else had given up. Grayson had taken to staying in Father’s room, crying when he thought no one was around because he wasn’t supposed to ever be Batman. Todd hadn’t bothered to contact anyone, but he hadn’t been too keen on the possibility of Father being alive from the very beginning. Pennyworth had seemed to come to the Acceptance stage and was moving on, doing as he always did. Cain, Brown, and Gordon weren’t around much, either, but it was clear they, too, had given up on Father’s life. The citizens of Gotham were much the same, offering sympathies and waiting for their declaration and a funeral date.

Damian was not prepared for any news other than his Father being around. He knew, in the back of his mind, that they were only holding off on the official announcement until Drake returned. If he didn’t return, then Damian supposed he would be the only one holding Grayson back from announcing Father’s death.

What a terrible burden to put on a child’s shoulders.

Damian found himself, once again, sitting in Father’s office. It was the one place no one ever went, not even to get to the Cave, so he was completely alone with Alfred the cat. The grandfather clock didn’t tick, but the hum of electricity from the elevator behind it was steady in the room, grounding Damian, keeping him from losing himself in his head.

The quiet was always a reprieve for him. In Nanda Parbat, there was always some noise, no matter how subtle or hidden. Footsteps only heard if you were listening for them, barely-there whispers of breath, wind against the walls and roof, murmurs of orders being relayed, the clink of weapons meeting, grunts from training, splashes from injuries, water flowing, snow melting, crops being tended to, animals. It all had a sound.

Silence, to everyone else, was foreboding; the tale tell signs of something not being right; the calm before a storm. To an assassin, silence was like coming home. Silence meant that they would be okay, that they’d live to see another day.

Damian relished in the silence of his Father’s office because it proved that he had been there. The room was empty, grieving for the man that had become lost, but it proved to Damian that his Father had been there. In some way, it brought him closer to his Father.

It was in the silence of his Father’s office that he spoke. Things he’d never been allowed to say with his Mother, things that he’d rather die than admit to anyone but himself.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, his hand petting Alfred’s head, “I really don’t know what to do.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? He’d been raised by Grandfather and Mother to always know exactly what was going on. If he didn’t know what was going on, he was to act like he did. Situations stayed in his control that way. Now, though, he couldn’t even pretend to know what was going on or what to do. Everyone was falling apart at the seams, overworked, stressed. No one had time for anything because they were all trying to fill the space Bruce left by pulling in every direction except in.

He felt like he was standing in the middle of a tornado. Father was gone, Pennyworth was trying to keep some form of normality, Grayson was trying to fill shoes that were never made for him to wear, Drake was trying to fix everything by looking for the epicenter of it all, and everyone else was falling away.

Everyone was pulling away from each other and blaming everyone else. He didn’t know what to do and it scared him.

In the year he’d been in the Manor before Father disappeared, they’d all been trying to teach Damian that it was okay for him to just be a kid sometimes. It went against everything he’d been raised on and taught, but he found it…fun. It was nice to not have to be looking over his shoulder all the time. He didn’t have to worry about traitors coming after him or when his next assignment would be, nor how long he’d be away from home.

He almost regretted listening to them now. Because now Father’s gone, Grayson is stretched so thin that he looks ready to keel over, Drake is gone, Todd is silent, the girls are so far away-!

Damian’s just a little kid. He doesn’t know how to deal with the situation.

So, he sits in his Father’s office with Alfred the cat and talks. Whether he talks to himself, his cat, or his Father, he doesn’t know. He just talks.

“I am not trained to handle this situation, Alfred,” he told the tuxedo cat on his lap, “I don’t think any of the others are, either.” He wanted to curl up, to pull his knees to his chest and bury his face in his arms. He wanted to cry. “I don’t know what to do.”

Danyal would know what to do.

But Danyal’s not here because Damian is a coward.

*

There are moments that Damian keeps close to his chest. Things that not even Mother knows. Moments when he and Danyal would sneak onto rooftops and speak of what scared them; moments when it was just him and his brother, telling stories they’d made up on their own; moments when they’d teach other what they were lacking at or in; moments curled up in the chicken coop or in the shed behind the greenhouses; moments where they could just be kids.

Damianand Danyal often found themselves alone together, shaking bodyguards or traitors - it was hard to tell who was who - off their tail and hiding in places only they could reach. They’d been praised by Grandfather for being so small, able to fit in the least likely of places, making missions take shorter amounts of time purely because they were small enough to go to their targets instead of waiting for them to come out.

One of their favorite places to be were the caves under Nanda Parbat. Not the Lazarus Pit caves! They’d never go near those. These caves were hidden from the others, too hard for adults to get to.

“We’re going to be too big to fit in here soon, ahki,” Danyal whispered, his voice carrying in the open space.

Damian clicked his tongue. “Then we will need to find somewhere else to make our own, akhi.”

Danyal frowned, “And leave Goliath all alone? No way!”

A sigh. “Unfortunately, Goliath will have to stay here in the caves. He was born here; he will be fine.”

A pout. “We could take him with us!”

“Where would we keep him?”

“In our rooms?”

“He’s down here because he got too big for us to keep in our rooms. He’s only going to get bigger.”

“Well, I’m not leaving him here.”

“Well, he can’t come with us.”

“We could keep him higher up the peak!”

“And keep him from his natural habitat? I think not.”

“How do you know that this is his natural habitat?”

“Because-” He cut himself off, Danyal doing the same.

Just in the distance, close enough to make out words, they heard voices. Some of the Shadows had followed them down and were looking for them. Quickly, they hid in the darkest corners of the cavern, the fire doused and Goliath preparing to attack.

The four Shadows came and passed, their carried conversation hinting that they were traitors in the ranks. After ten more minutes of nothing but silence, Damian and Danyal slunk from their hiding spots.

Danyal patted Goliath’s snout. “Sorry, bud, but we’ve gotta go.”

Damian nodded, also petting the dragon bat’s nose. “We will return when we can. In the meantime, Grandfather will want to know what we’ve learned.”

“When will he return?”

“Grandfather and Mother should both be here within the month. We will tell them then.”

Little moments that no one would think twice about until they’re all they have left. Memories of someone just out of their reach. Damian had a lot of those moments of Danyal and himself, all held very closely. He didn’t have nearly as many with Father, only as many as the fingers on his hand. Grayson tried his best to make up for the time Father was missing, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know what it felt like to have a father, but spending time with Grayson felt close to what he knew it should be.

“Any news from Drake?” Damian asked as he sat in front of Grayson at the table. He snuck a look at the shrunken pile of letters, but didn’t see another one with his name on it. He didn’t know what he expected. It had been six months.

Grayson shook his head, his long hair greasy and in his face. He was mostly focused on the paperwork in front of him. Some of it from his day job, but most of it was from case files he was working on as Batman. “Nope, still radio silence from Tim, Jason, Steph, and Cass.”

“What of Gordon?”

He sighed. “She’s not talking to me much, but I get it. Life happens. She told me she’ll get back to helping us out as soon as she can, but I don’t think that’ll be for a while.”

“I see,” Damian fell silent. “What of the WAR case?”

Grayson sighed heavier, his hands running through his hair again. “I still can’t get a hold of their leader. The guy’s slippery, and anyone working with him is just as!”

Damian hummed. “Perhaps you should let me focus on that case.”

“What? No, I can’t-”

“You’re stretching yourself too thin, Grayson, you will end up killing yourself if you do not take a step back.”

Grayson looked up for the first time since Damian had joined him with a concerned frown on his face. “Where’s this coming from, Dames?”

Damian didn’t react to the nickname. “If you die, then I will be alone.” he stated. Then, he stood, took the WAR case file from Grayson, and left the room. “Get some sleep.”

He found himself in his room, the case file in his hands, but all his attention on the locked top drawer. Danyal would know what to do. Danyal, despite being younger, always excelled with social lessons. He was always the fastest thinker, coming up with solutions to problems before they could become problems.

He opened the drawer, the key hanging around his neck at all times. Inside was every letter his brother had sent him. On the very top were the three he hadn’t brought himself to read open. If he read them now, would Danyal even want to hear from him? It’s been six months.

Damian closed the drawer, locking it, and hiding the key under his shirt again. He was quick to leave his room, taking the WAR case file with him to his Father’s office. He could focus there where the unopened letters weren’t looming over him.

Damian is a coward.

Translation 1 - Arabic: I hope everything is okay

Part 4 Part 6 Artwork

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter nine

summary: you catch up with an old friend and luca makes you dinner.

warnings: fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (songs mentioned in chapter are in this playlist!)

a/n: i've always pictured mathilde & jesper as the chalamet siblings AND astrid is in fact played by rina sawayama i don't make the rules (i do). thank you for all comments, reblogs, and screaming at me because we are all obsessed. seriously, it's an honor and i'm just so excited that you all are just as excited as me. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

You spend your first Sunday afternoon without Luca, for the first time in a few weeks, deep cleaning your home. Between your new relationship and your work at the restaurant, you’d found yourself falling behind on chores. But he’d worked the late shift last night, filling in for a cook who called out, which is how you’d ended up with a night and morning of divine alone time. 

With your headphones on, it’s easy to multitask, simultaneously folding clothes while you catch up with your friend, formerly-sister-in-law, over the phone. 

“Anyways, work’s kept me so damn busy that I’ve barely had a moment in my own home but… we are all doing quite alright over here,” she explains, after detailing her travels all across Europe. 

Being a buyer for Nordstrom UK keeps her on the road, or rather, in the sky, at a frequent rate. 

“Well I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear from you. And It’s really good to catch up, Astrid,” you say, smiling to yourself as you finish folding a pile of t-shirts. 

“Well, just because you and Joe didn’t work out doesn’t change anything. You’re still my sister,” she replies, with a small laugh. “We’re family, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t keep a good thing around.”

“Astrid! You know it wasn’t like that,” you protest, though you know it’s all in jest.

“I know,” she sighs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes from all the way to England. “Selfishly, I’m just feeling a bit contrary about it, is all. But enough about me. How are you? How’s everything at the restaurant?”

“It’s been great. I… can’t believe that I have a restaurant,” you answer as you shake your head in disbelief.

“God, I’ve gotta get out there soon. I haven’t stopped thinking about that lumache from my last visit – what was it – last November? Yeah, it’s been too long,” Astrid recalls lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, it really has. Just let me know. You know I’m always up for hosting you,” you agree, hopeful that she’ll come visit soon. 

“Besides work, what else’s new? And don’t tell me you’re still just burying yourself in the restaurant because I don’t want to hear it,” she asks, a curious tone in her voice as she segways from work to 

“Well um…” you trail off, treading lightly over the delicate subject. 

The thing you want to tell her about is Luca, because he is what’s new in your life. His presence in your life is evident – it’s in the pair of sweatpants he tossed in with your laundry that you’re folding now, the spare toothbrush you ‘lent’ him that sits right next to yours, and the way that thinking of him makes your heart race. 

You don’t want to lie to her… but you’re also not sure what the etiquette is either. 

It’s not like this is included in the divorcee handbook you never got in the first place. 

“I’m… sort of seeing someone,” you admit, hesitantly. 

“What?!” she gasps, instantly giddy with excitement. “Yeah, we uh…” you hesitate, testing the waters since she seems excited about it. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, maybe.”

“Shut up! That’s mega! How’d you meet? Tell me everything,” she gushes. 

“Well, he actually came into the restaurant. Kind of became a regular and uh…” you explain, and she can hear the smile in your voice as you do. “He’s great. You’ll love this story, actually. He’s also a chef – a pastry chef. One night after coming in, he left a box of croissants for my staff and a handwritten note inviting me to come to the restaurant he works at. It was very….”

“Romantic. Wow…” Astrid adds, too excited for you as she listens. “And a bold move. Knows what he wants. I like him already.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s really incredible. I swear. He has the patience of a saint, especially as I’ve uh… you know, I’ve been trying to figure this whole… dating after you end your marriage kinda thing,” you continue, chuckling in response to the awkwardness of it all. 

“We were friends actually, for a while. Just friends, which, I know you’ll yell at me about when you see what he looks like. But I think it was good for us, for me, really – to be friends first.”

“Well, now you have to send me a picture,” she requests, even more intrigued as you fiddle with your phone, pulling up a photo you took of Luca the other day. 

You wait a beat. Then another, seeing that the photo has been delivered as Astrid shrieks in your ear. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, mate?!” she practically screams. 

“I know,” you squeal. 

“You are absolutely unbelievable,” she shakes her head, staring at the gorgeous blonde on her screen. “How did you not jump right into bed?!”

“Trust me,” you reply, the room suddenly feeling 5 degrees hotter. “After we agreed to start seeing each other, we didn’t wait very long.”

”Sounds like you have a boyfriend,” Astrid comments smugly, as she waits for your reaction. You have expect yourself to panic, but you don’t as you the words tumble out of your mouth. 

“I… it does sound that way, doesn’t it?” you ask her, your voice soft as you reply. 

“Absolutely, my darling,” Astrid replies, before changing the subject. “Okay, so how’s the sex?!”

“Astrid!” you protest with a laugh. “Do you really want to-?”

“Of fucking bloody course I do! Now spill!” she demands. 

You pause, grinning as your cheeks blush. 

“It’s fucking incredible,” you admit, eliciting a giggle from your friend. 

“Shit, babe,” she sighs, contently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say back, because you’re pretty damn happy too. “Astrid, will you keep this between us? It’s just that it’s all still so new and….” 

You pause. 

“I just don’t want Joe to hear it from anyone but me.” 

“Of course,” she replies, compassionately, in deep understanding.

“What else are sisters for?”

-------------------------------

You showed up to Luca’s flat uncertain of what to expect, but then he’d pulled you into his home and kissed you like you’d been on his mind all day – and in his defense, you really had. 

“Why don’t you come over Sunday night, then? Let me cook you dinner for a change,” he had suggested as you were figuring out your schedules for the week. 

“You sure you’ll be up for that after working overtime this week?” you’d asked in response. 

“I’ll be alright, love,” he’d answered, like he had unlimited energy when it came to you. 

And even though you’d asked him if you should bring dessert – only to be met with a cheeky comment about you being dessert – you showed up anyway with a matcha basque cheesecake in hand and a deli container filled with a yuzu scented whipped cream to top it with. 

So this is how you find yourself perched on top of Luca’s kitchen island countertop, after having watched his exceptional knife skills for the last thirty. You spend your evening snacking on sliced sourdough bread you’re not sure how he had the time to make, and sip on your glass of red wine while watching him prepare a coq au vin. You swear you’ve got hearts in your eyes when you look at him, watching his muscular, inked forearms flex with how he grips his chef’s knife. As music plays softly in the background, a playlist you can only imagine is the entirety of Luca’s music library put on shuffle, you busy yourself, refilling your wine glass for your second glass of the night. 

“Want another, babe?” you ask him, noticing that he’s on his way to empty as well. 

“Sure. Thank you, my love,” he replies, scooping a handful of chopped carrots up from his cutting board with a bench scraper, depositing them into a small bowl. You watch as Luca picks up his glass of wine and makes his way over to you. 

He hands you the glass, then places a gentle kiss against your lips, a smile spreading across his lips. Luca takes a few steps away so that you can fill his glass again, making a few swift movements to turn the heat down on the gas burner. 

“How was your day?” he asks, while still moving around his kitchen. 

You fill him in on your productive day of chores and catching up with an old friend while Luca listens, busy with removing the pieces of chicken out from the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. By the time Luca’s added hot oil to the pot, followed by the chopped carrots and peeled, halved cipollini onions, you’ve caught him up on the long version of Jesper’s latest love-life updates, since he and Claudio have now decided to make it official. 

“So you used to make this with your mom?” you ask curiously, changing the subject as you watch Luca scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pot. 

He nods in response, stealing a glance your way, his lips turned up into a half smile. 

“Yeah. Most coq au vins can take up to three to four hours, but my mum didn’t have the time,” Luca explains, as you watch him remove the pieces of chicken from out of the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. “But it was important for her… to cook for me… to share that ritual with me when she could.” 

The sound of the wine and cognac mixture hitting the hot pan sizzles throughout Luca’s home, your nose filling with the smell of deglazed caramelized bits. 

“And I spent a lot of time as a kid watching the cooking channel, so while we didn’t exactly spend all Sunday cooking a classic French coq au vin, Jamie Oliver’s did the job quite well,” Luca recalls, sharing a piece of his relationship with food with you. 

“Well, it smells incredible,” you say, as he approaches you once more, this time with a full glass of wine in your hands, ready for him. 

As Luca leans in again, the way he kisses you is much more languid, slow, like time is limitless. You breathe him in, completely enamored with the man that’s kissing you, and before anything too wild can happen, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more. Luca smirks, and you swear he knows the effect he has on you. He presses a quick peck to your lips this time, before taking the glass of wine from your hands and heading back to his post in front of the stovetop. 

“This all goes back in,” he continues, using tongs to add the chicken and pancetta bits back into the simmering pot. “Then we braise it in the oven for about… thirty, forty minutes maybe.” 

You raise your glass of wine to your lips, taking a quick sip of the beaujolais you’re using both for the coq au vin and to unwind, listening as the song changes in the background, instantly recognizing the drum pattern. The corners of your lips turn up into a smile as you close your eyes, enjoying the familiarity of the song as you say:

“God, I love this song.”

Luca smiles, “It’s a classic. Great song.” 

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream, she said

The one that makes me laugh, she said

Threw her arms around my neck

“You know, I saw them when I was in my early 20s. It was just me and a bunch of somebody’s dads,” you grin, in reference to The Cure. 

Luca chuckles at your comment, before asking, “Did you really?” 

“Yes. And when they came out on stage, smoke machine and all, I wept because it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream – to see them. I… was a bit of an angsty teen,” you answer, raising your wine glass to your lips once more. 

“Think we all had an angsty phase, more or less. Mine was less pining to The Cure and more stirrin’ up trouble,” Luca admits, lightheartedly. 

“Again, and I’m holding you to it. You promised me pictures,” you remind him with aplomb. 

“I did, yeah,” he chuckles, shyly, with a sigh of resignation. 

You focus on enjoying one of your favorite songs and sipping on your glass of wine, as you watch Luca put the enameled cast-iron plot, full of the ready-to-braise coq au vin, into the oven. 

Comfortable silences between you and Luca have become more frequent. There are days that all you want to do is stay up till the early hours of the morning talking and kissing and fucking, and there are others that you love leaning into the quiet intimacy that seems to be developing between you. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten what this feels like – the excitement of something new where you’re learning so much about each other and everything feels like the first time. 

It’s thrilling and it’s also safe. 

Luca makes you feel safe, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else but him. 

For a first time relationship, post-divorce, you really hit the jackpot, you think to yourself. 

Luca continues moving around the kitchen, drinking his wine in between clean up tasks, as if he’s at work, hell bent on keeping his station clean. He’s much better than you are at that, you observe, as he does a few dishes that he’s used up, instead of leaving them in the sink for tomorrow. 

As he dries his hands on a dish towel, the song changes, and the opening notes of Beyonce’s Love On Top begin playing. You smile as you hear the undeniable: 

Bring the beat in!

“Alright, mate. Hear me out,” Luca proposes, spinning around with excitement. “And I don’t say this lightly. But this. This is one of the greatest songs of all time.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggle as you watch Luca dance to the song in his kitchen with a smoothness that’s somehow simultaneously a little silly. 

“What? You don’t agree?” he asks, shooting you a look as he ball changes towards you, earning another laugh from you. 

“No, I do. I love this song,” you grin from ear to ear. “I’m just so tickled by the fact that you love this song.”

“It’s Beyonce,” he defends, in his best ‘well-duh’ kind of tone, gesturing wildly. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“Wh-,” you begin to say, before Luca’s practically pulling you off of the counter to join him. “Luca!!”

But he’s not having any of your protests as he wraps his arms around you. You hang onto him, holding him close as he leads you in a silly uptempo kind of dance, spinning and turning you with him in a way that has you in a fit of giggles. The two of you stumble from his kitchen into the living space area as you move together, embracing how goofy and ridiculous you both feel. 

Luca sings along softly, something you get a better listen to as soon as he’s pulling you close to him. 

“What the fuck!” you practically shriek, your jaw practically on the floor. 

“Hmm?” he hums in response, unphased by your outburst. 

“You’re unfuckingreal,” you balk, as you listen to him hum along to the Beyonce song. “I mean. You-, like, you look like this, you’re great in bed, and you have a nice singing voice? How-, how’s a girl ever supposed to stand a chance?” 

He chuckles, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, sending chills down your spine as he coos, teasingly, “I’m great in the sack, hmm?” 

Your heart skips a beat as you pull back, just enough to look into the eyes of your lover as you say, “Oh fuck off.”

He laughs again, this time, leaving a soft kiss against your ear, hugging you closer to him as you slow your dance down as the song begins to end. There’s a pause between this and the next song, providing the perfect opportunity for Luca to answer your earlier question. 

“You weren’t,” Luca replies, his voice quiet but sure. Supposed to stand a chance, he means. “I think we were supposed to meet. Supposed to be here.”

Supposed to fall in love. 

He leans down to kiss you as the next song begins, transitioning into a much bluesier sound. The crooning sounds of Etta James blast from Luca’s living room speakers, as you smile into the kiss. You groan, your heart aching in the best way as kiss him to:

I want a Sunday kind of love

A love to last past Saturday night

And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight

And I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, yeah

“My God. I think tonight’s shuffle is proof that you may just have the most versatile taste in music history,” you mumble, pulling away for a moment from the kiss. 

As you open your eyes, Luca’s just admiring you, an awestruck look on his face that steals your breath. No longer able to deflect with humor or anything else really, you lay your head on his chest, settling into the soft swaying motion of the dance that you and Luca have fallen into. Your arms go around his neck once more as Luca holds you close to him, making a mental note to remember this forever. 

“How did you know?” you ask Luca, softly. 

“What’s that, love?” he asks back. 

“You said that you thought we might be good at this. At… at an ‘us.’ When we talked about starting to see each other,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, underscored by the violins of the song. 

Luca takes a deep breath admitting that, “I didn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him, your eyes full of adoration for the man that’s captured your heart.

“Babe, I-,” he starts, letting out a small laugh. “I knew we got on well. And that I liked you. And I thought… if we got on this well as friends and you felt the same, that we could give it a go. See what happens.” He takes a beat, choosing his words, before continuing with: 

“But, my love, I can’t predict the future. It could work out in the long run, it could not. But I wanted-, I want to see how far we can take it.”

You take a deep breath, because this conversation is deep-breath worthy. 

Notorious for wanting to read the last page of a book first, you know he’s right, that you can’t predict the future, and you, now just as much as he does, would like to see how far this could go. 

“Yeah it-, that makes complete sense,” you stammer, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. You rest your head against his chest again, settling back into your slow sway to the beat. 

Like clockwork, the song ends, something a little more upbeat trickling in through the speakers. You and Luca remain in each others’ arms, content to stay here forever. You’re amazed at his confidence, at his fearlessness to take a chance on love, and you think to yourself, he might be teaching you some of that too. 

“Let’s take a trip together,” Luca suggests, the low resonance of his voice cutting through the quiet. “Maybe end of the month or something. An end of summer trip.” He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your hair as you enjoy the way his voice vibrates in his chest. 

“Fuck it. I could care less if we make it in time for the end of summer. Let’s just get out of the city together.” 

“That sounds spectacular,” you answer. 

And it’s there, in Luca’s arms after a dance party for two, that you think to yourself, you couldn’t be happier.

[paleprincessturtle]

Closed

Hi, peeps! Please excuse any inaccuracies in my writing. Enjoy!

Summary: Harvey closed yet another deal. So, what's new?

Warnings: Nothing

"Where the hell were you?" Harvey barges into your office, unannounced, and with such force. You slide the pamphlet you’re reading underneath a pile of documents in front of you and hope to God that Harvey didn’t realize your abrupt movement. "Where the hell were you, and what are you hiding? Answer the questions consecutively," Harvey says sternly while looking you dead in the eyes. “Okay, so umm." You paused and realized how Harvey was looking at you skeptically. You have to pull yourself together. You can speak in the middle of a courtroom with such elegance, determination, and confidence. But Harvey Goddamn Specter strips it out of you.

" The answers to questions one and two were correlated. " Harvey sighs, "then starts answering. Smith was my old client, and I know how long it takes to get from his house back to the office. You took almost 3 hours and blew me over in our meeting.” Shit. You forgot completely about the meeting. You were supposed to be in this meeting with Harvey hours ago. “So, pray tell, where were you and what happened?” Harvey sits himself down on a chair across from yours. "Like the initial plan, I went to Smith’s place to drop the final contract. I was about to go straight back here until I saw something just on his doorstep." You bite your lips, contemplating how you should proceed with this story. Harvey nods his head, encouraging you to continue. "I saw a black kitten, alone.” You see Harvey’s eyebrows draw closer together. "So I took him to the vet to make sure if he’s okay and all.” Harvey’s lips turn into a straight line. "You bailed from our meeting for a cat?” You flinch at his tone. When you choose to work for Pearson Specter in the middle of dating Harvey, you know that he won’t always be your boyfriend. You know there will come days like this when he is nothing but your boss. And you know you are in the wrong for this. "I’m sorry, Harvey. It won’t happen again. My emotions got the best of me, and I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry." Harvey sighs and leans back on the chair. "Where’s the cat?” Harvey asks. Again, you bite your lips and point at the corner of your office. Harvey follows where your finger points, takes a solid 5 seconds to look at the crate with a sleeping black kitten inside it, and looks back at you. You start before he says anything: "I won’t have any meetings with anyone in my office today. And you didn’t even realize he'd been there since you got into my office, right?” Harvey just stares at you. "Don’t let something like this happen again. I wasn’t only pissed because you hung me dry in our meeting; I was worried about you too. I’ve insisted you should take Ray.” Harvey stands up, and you find yourself following his movement as if he were your client. You get more nervous under the scrutiny of your own boyfriend than all your clients. He can be intimidating when he needs to be. He starts to walk for the door before you say, "What about the kitty?” Not only do you ask for his existence here, but you also subtly ask if you can bring it home. Harvey stops and looks like he’s contemplating his choices before he looks back at you. "Bring the cat home until you find the cat an adopter. Talk to Louis; he likes cats.” Harvey leaves you alone, sad about his answer.

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It’s 7 p.m. when you turn off your laptop and decide to finally go home. Timmy, the black kitten you found earlier today, is still sleeping soundly in his little bed. You grin, looking at him. You have to admit that you already love this cat. You replay what Harvey said to you, and your heart heaves at the option you have. No, you think to yourself. You’ll fight Harvey, so he’ll let the cat stay. You’re also a lawyer yourself anyway. You sure can wiggle around to get something you want. You call Ray to help you bring down the crate while you walk down the hallway to go fetch Harvey. The room is dark, but you see Donna still at her desk. You lean on her desk, and she smiles. "Where’s Harvey?" you ask as you peek inside, trying to find any sign of him in case your eyes deceive you. "He didn’t tell you? He went to Atlantic City to close a deal after lunch," Donna says as she studies you. Harvey always tells you everything. "The Blanchard case?" you ask, and Donna nods. "Why didn’t he tell you?” Donna asks; all are curious. "I ditched the meeting we had. I was supposed to go back to the office after I dropped a document, but I saw a kitten," you pause as you shuffle around to grab your phone. "This is Timmy, the kitten in question.” You show your phone to Donna, and she smiles. "He was all alone?" and you nod. "I took him to the vet and forgot I was supposed to be Harvey’s number two at that meeting." You put your phone back inside your handbag. "He went all Boss Harvey on me, not that I blame him. But he told me we couldn’t keep the cat." Donna looks at you and smiles again. "We all know how he deals with emotions. He was more worried about you than you missed the meeting. You huff and nod, "Yeah, we all know he’s trying," and you smile weakly. "Just go home after you’re done, Donna. I gotta go home and get Timmy situated in the house." You wave her goodbye as you walk to the elevator.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you get home with Ray bringing the crate inside and all, you sit by the kitchen and try to listen for any sign of Harvey’s arrival. He won’t stay out for the night; he was mad, but he’ll get home. You know that. After jolting out notes on your current case, you hear a ding outside from the elevator. You close the file and run to the door, ready to welcome him home. He opens the door to you, smiling. He looks tired but smiles once he sees you grinning. "Welcome home," you say as you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a kiss. "What an excellent service," Harvey whispers, his lips touching yours. "I’m sorry about today," Harvey says as you lead him inside. "If anything, I’m the one who is sorry. About the meeting, about making you worry. He stops both of you in the middle of the hallway and kisses you. You smile against his lips, take his coat off, and walk further inside. “Harvey, look," you say as you point near the couch. "You’ve found an adopter?" Harvey asks as he takes the mug of warm tea you offer him. "I’m thinking of keeping him here.” You say it carefully. Harvey sighs, as he takes your hand and leads you to sit with him on the couch. He sits you down as he faces you. "We can’t keep him, baby.” You instantly pouted at his words. "Because you know both of us are busy. A pet is a big responsibility.” Harvey explains with a stern voice, trying to make you see reason. "But Louis had Bruno,” you said defensively. "Bruno died because Louis was too busy to realize he was sick. And why do you think he hasn’t got another cat yet?" You see where this is going. "I want you to be happy, and you know that. But a cat with our work schedule right now will be quite hard, don’t you think?” As you look down at your intertwined hands, tears threaten to escape. You really do love Timmy. “Remember, we made a promise; once we marry and decide to start a family, we’ll lessen our workload and move to a bigger place. We’ll have more time then. And we can have 10 dogs and 20 cats.” He cups your cheek for you to look up at him and smiles as he wipes the tears from your cheek. You see his reason and just nod. Harvey kisses your forehead before saying something about a bath and bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey sighs as he looks at the time on his phone. 2.30 am. He looks down at you, sleeping soundly. He carefully untangles you from him. He walks to the kitchen and retrieves a bottle of cold water from the fridge. He chooses to work for a bit as he opens the door to his home office. He’s deep in some files when he sees a movement just at the door, and he snaps his head up. He cocks his head at the sight of the cat walking inside his office. The cat uses the chair across from him to climb up to his desk. The cat sits down, looking at Harvey. Harvey has no choice but to look back at the cat. And so the staring contest begins. Harvey looks at the little creature and contemplates how much this cat can make his girl happy. He believes a cat won’t require as much care as a dog. He remembers the tears and the pout on his girl’s face when he said they couldn’t keep the cat. He remembers how she was an only child and never really had a friend growing up. He petted the cat in the head. The cat looked cautious at first, but then he closed his eyes and purred. "Okay, bud. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll make our girl happy, you and I. And in return, you’ll get the best care this world has to offer, deal?"

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Note: Feel free to send me a request! Thanks!

MASTERLIST

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not getting my roommate a birthday gift and insulting them when they got mad about it?

I don’t really think I’m the asshole (or at least the only asshole) but it’s become such a Situation I need some outside input.

So I and my roommate Ollie (both 18, gender irrelevant) have been living together in a college dorm for a couple months now. We aren’t friends, but we’re friendly. We talk a little in passing but nothing more. We get along for the most part, but my main issue is that Ollie has so much stuff.

I’ve lived with it for months but it’s always a mild annoyance. There’s stuff on our bathroom counter, the kitchen counter, always dishes in the sink and their desk is always a mess. We have separate sides of the room and separate spaces for our food and dishes in the sink and for our shower stuff and bathroom stuff but it still drives me crazy because there’s always clutter around. I haven’t talked to them about it because I don’t want them to get mad at me for trying to micromanage them—I don’t know if they would’ve but now they definitely would.

Also, I think we have a pretty big gap in how much money we have. We both have a meal plan so we can eat at the cafeteria on campus but their part of the fridge is always overflowing. They have a ton of expensive and what look like kinda redundant products, like five bottles of perfume on their desk, and I even saw cotton candy grapes in the fridge?? I haven’t been to the store in a while but I don’t think those are cheap. There’s also a ton of Starbucks and takeout food in the trash too. I on the other hand have to save the money I have (a couple hundred) to put towards a summer class. Even if I wanted to get them a birthday gift, I think it would come down to that or, like, gas money to go home for a weekend

Ollie’s birthday was a little over a week ago. They spent the day out with their friends from what I could tell off social media and when they came back they had a few grocery bags and an Amazon box or two, and once they set them down they asked me what I’d gotten for them.

I asked what they were talking about, and they said for their birthday. I told them I didn’t get them anything and then they started mumbling about fake friends and how they were nothing but nice to me and I couldn’t even give them anything in return. I’m not great on social cues so they might have been joking or sarcastic here but I told them they were crazy if they thought I was gonna add to any of their piles of useless stuff around here and called them a hoarder (that may be too harsh but I mean, I saw a Wendy’s receipt from October on their desk last week. It’s February.) They got really pissed and started swearing at me and I forget most of what was said after that but it escalated, we ended up screaming, they left for the night, it was bad.

Since then their friend from high school, we’ll call her Ruby (21F I think) has been blowing up my phone. Telling me I have no right to talk to Ollie like that, that I’m a shitty friend and she ought to just block me (we aren’t friends so idk where this one came from), and told me that apparently Ollie’s mom was some kind of a reclusive hoarder and Ollie has been crying and worrying about becoming like her. I honestly don’t believe this last one because I met their mom when we moved in last September and she seemed like a completely nice person.

Ollie hasn’t been back here. I think they got their essentials while I was in class and is staying with Ruby now, she lives in a building just off campus. I reached out to make sure they were okay and, you know, alive, and they just said “don’t fucking text me I’m fine don’t worry about it.” I have pretty bad anxiety, it’s been six days and it’s still almost all I can think about. I feel like I should apologize but I’m honestly not sure if I’m in the wrong or not. So, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[dragonflylady77]

Not-So Blind Date

Hiiiiiiiii!! This fic was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race

Roommates AU, Idiots in love | Rating: Teen | 5.1k

On Ao3

Billy's been in love with Steve since about twelve seconds after they met the day Billy moved into the dorms... Once they both graduated, they found jobs and an apartment. Sharing a space with Steve is both the best and the most frustrating thing in Billy’s life.  Because Billy is completely and hopelessly in love with Steve. Because Steve has no idea. Because Steve is straight.

Billy closes the front door behind him with a relieved sigh. He dumps his keys in the bowl on the sideboard and toes off his shoes.

Today sucked. As if sleeping through his alarm and spilling his coffee on his clean shirt wasn’t enough, he missed the bus and was late for work. Then it just kept getting worse, work was endlessly piling up on his desk, his favorite lunch spot was closed, he dropped sauce on his pants. That was followed by an afternoon of playing phone tag with a couple of suppliers and to top it all off, it started raining on his walk home from the bus stop.

He strips down to his boxers, dumps his clothes in a wet pile on the bathroom floor and turns the shower on before getting a towel from the hallway cupboard. 

He stops when he hears Steve’s voice. It’s unexpected because Billy is pretty sure Steve had a day shift today. He sounds angry but Billy can’t hear another voice so he must be on the phone.

“No, thank you, I’ve heard quite enough… Oh, yes, I’m sure… Whatever, dickhead… Uh huh… Yeah, have a nice life.”

Footsteps get closer and the door to Steve’s room opens before Billy has a chance to disappear into the bathroom.

Steve looks like he’s been crying, his eyes red, his cheeks blotchy, and he’s still wearing his teal scrubs.

“Oh, Billy. Hi. Didn’t realize you were home,” Steve says, startled.

“You okay, pretty boy? Do I need to break someone’s legs?” Billy feels a bit awkward standing there in his boxers, holding a towel to his chest. Exposed. He notices Steve’s gaze taking in his state of undress and it warms something in his chest. A spark of hope he quickly extinguishes.

He’s been in love with Steve since about twelve seconds after they met the day Billy moved into the dorms. Alphabet buddies, roommates and then best friends. Moving from the dorms to an apartment after they both got their degrees and found jobs seemed like a natural progression, splitting the rent and everything else. Sharing a space with Steve is both the best and the most frustrating thing in Billy’s life. 

Because Billy is completely and hopelessly in love with Steve.

Because Steve has no idea.

Because Steve is straight.

Billy brings his focus back on Steve and the current crisis.

“What happened to you?” Steve asks, his hand gesturing vaguely towards Billy’s hair, his curls dripping down his chest.

“Started pissing down on my way home from the fucking bus. Then a car drove through a puddle a bit too close to the sidewalk and I got drenched.”

“Sounds like we both had shitty days.”

“You have no idea.” Billy just wants to have a hot shower and forget today happened.

“Wanna order in and watch Justified?”

“Sounds good, Stevie.” With a grin and a nod, Billy heads to the bathroom. The hopeful part of him likes to imagine Steve is staring at his ass but he doesn’t turn around to check. The bathroom is full of steam when he steps in the shower and he lets the hot water wash away his bad mood.

*****

Steve is sat on the couch, Billy on a cushion on the floor in front of him, the empty pizza boxes discarded on the coffee table, three sad looking pieces of garlic bread left in one of them. Steve is combing curl serum into Billy’s still damp curls with his fingers. He doesn’t remember exactly how long since he started doing this for Billy, it was sometime in their second year in college, but it’s become a calming activity for both of them on bad days.

Justified is playing on the TV, Steve doesn’t know how many times they’ve watched it over the years but it’s their go-to comfort show. No matter what happens at work, Steve knows that Billy will be there when he gets home to cheer him up with take-out, beer and their favorite Deputy US Marshal.

“Hey, Stevie?” Billy asks from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah?” Steve grabs the towel he left on the armrest to wipe his hands then he pats Billy’s shoulder twice to indicate he’s done. Billy moves up to sit on the couch, sprawling next to Steve, his toes wedging under Steve’s thigh.

“Ava or Winona?” 

“Um… Gosh, I don’t know.” It’s been a while since they played the pick one game. Usually the choices are equally ghastly and the game ends in fits of laughter.

“Come on, just pick one.”

“I’m thinking!” Steve looks at the screen. They’re somewhere in season two, Winona and Raylan are tentatively dating and Boyd is boarding at Ava’s house. He thinks about both women and their motivations. “Ava.”

Billy lets out a low whistle. “Well, pretty boy, color me surprised.”

“Why? She takes no shit, rolls with the punches and adapts, and she’s very resourceful. Reminds me a bit of you actually.”

“Aww, Stevie.”

“It’s true.” Steve shrugs. “You got away from Neil and built a good life for yourself. Now we just need to find you a man.” 

And maybe, just maybe, that man could be me.  

The thought hits Steve and he freezes. He blames seeing Billy in his underwear earlier for the stray thought. He’s been doing so good ignoring them but it’s getting trickier, especially on nights like tonight when they’re both very tactile and domestic.

He got tired of telling Robin that Billy is his roommate and not his boyfriend, but it seems the more he answered her never-ending questions, the more she was comforted in the idea. It forced Steve to take stock of all the stray thoughts about Billy he’s been ignoring for, well, years, and untangle them all to realize something major about his identity. And his feelings. Something he has yet to share with Billy.

He’s not sure why he still hasn’t told Billy he’s bisexual. Every shift he’s had with Robin in the past few months, and every time they’ve seen each other outside the hospital, she’s asked him if he’d done it yet. He knows he should tell him, Billy is his best friend after all. But Steve isn’t sure he’s ready to rock the boat. Just because Billy is gay, doesn’t mean he’d be into Steve. And Steve would rather live with Billy as things are, than go through life without him, nursing a broken heart.

“Oh god, not you too,” Billy laughs as he kicks Steve’s thigh. “Heather is constantly on my ass about dating again and I am not interested.”

It’s a nice ass , Steve thinks, feeling his face heat up and hoping Billy doesn’t notice.

*****

It’s been a couple of weeks since Billy came home soaked to the bone and overheard the end of Steve’s phone call. Steve hasn’t mentioned anything but he’s been home more so Billy wonders if that means Steve is single again.

He was clearly dating someone before, even though Billy never got to meet whoever that was, which, weird. Steve tends to bring the women he dates to Friday night drinks with their group of friends, once they’ve made it past the three months mark.

They’ve taken to cooking dinner together when Steve is not working the night shift, and it’s really nice. Billy enjoys the close contact and the banter as they chop and dice and sauté. He misses it when Steve has a night shift, and always makes sure Steve has a plate of leftovers waiting for him in the fridge when he gets home.

Heather has been trying to talk him into going on a blind date with some guy her girlfriend knows. Billy told her he would if she let him meet said girlfriend, because they’ve been going out for months and Billy still knows nothing about the mystery woman. So far Heather hasn’t given up any information so Billy remains blissfully dateless.

He’s not interested anyway. He knows he should try and move on from his crush on Steve, but it’s hard to do when they live together, and he is not prepared to not have Steve in his life.

“You started without me.”

Billy turns around from the sink where he’s washing the vegetables for tonight’s stir fry. Steve is standing in the doorway, wearing Billy’s old UCLA hoodie and carrying a shopping bag. He looks tired. Billy smiles.

“Hey, Stevie, I wasn’t sure when you were coming home and you didn’t text. Sorry.” He nods towards the chopping board on the counter. “You can chop the chicken if you want.”

“Need to get changed first. I’ll be right back.”

They settle into their routine, working together to cook their meal, knowing what needs doing without having to talk about it. Once they’re sitting down on the couch with their food, and a drink, Billy puts Justified on.

“How was your day?” Steve asks and Billy shrugs.

“Tommy was his usual obnoxious self, Heather still won’t tell me anything about her girlfriend and the taco truck I like was back on our street. You?”

“Slept in, had lunch with Robin, we’re both on nights for the rest of the week, so that’s nice, makes it easier.”

“You were home late,” Billy remarks. He missed Steve, okay? Sue him.

“Sorry, should have texted you to let you know. We had lunch at that Japanese restaurant Robin never shuts up about, then she dragged me to the mall to find a present for her girlfriend for their six month anniversary and I had to talk her out of getting a kitten.”

“Oh my god!”

“Uh huh, then she tried to convince me a pet rabbit was the best idea ever.”

“Wow. Glad you were there to stop her. What did she get in the end?”

“Oh well, she walked into Victoria’s Secrets and I told her I was leaving.”

Billy laughs. “I thought you liked that shop. You were always there when you were dating that girl last year.”

Steve blushes. “That was different. I didn’t feel right discussing undergarments about my friend’s secret girlfriend!”

Not for the first time, Billy wonders about the odds of their friends both having a secret girlfriend, and if, maybe, Heather and Robin are dating each other. He told Steve about his theory and they paid attention during Friday night drinks but the two women didn’t even sit next to each other or interact all that much. Either they weren’t dating or they were really good at acting.

“Fair enough.” Billy puts his empty bowl on the floor and stretches. His t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of his belly and Steve’s eyes follow the motion. Billy tells himself it doesn’t mean anything, Steve is just reacting to the movement. 

“Anyway, she decided to go back another time, and we found a coffee shop because I needed some caffeine after being at the mall for so long. And that’s when she ambushed me.”

“What do you mean, pretty boy? How did she ambush you?” Billy is confused. He turns around to face Steve, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“She asked about Sam and when I said we broke up a couple of weeks ago, she tried to convince me to agree to go on a date with someone she reckons is perfect for me.” Steve sighs.

Billy’s fingers dig into his calves. So he was right, and Steve is single. And now he knows the name of the girl Steve was dating. Not for the first time, he wonders if that’s who Steve was on the phone with that night it rained so much. Steve called whoever a dickhead, an insult typically thrown at males, so maybe not.

“What did you say?” The idea of Steve going on a date with someone who isn’t him makes him want to puke.

“Told her it was too soon.”

All Billy hears is that Steve didn’t say no. And really, he has no reason to say no to Robin. Suddenly Billy can’t be in the same room.

“Sorry, gonna head to bed, long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve looks at him part surprised, part sad, making Billy’s heart squeeze in his chest.

He needs to get out of here.

***

Steve can’t shake the feeling that Billy is avoiding him. For the past three weeks, Steve’s dinner has been waiting for him when he gets home from a day shift. Every time there is a note from Billy stuck to the fridge, saying he is out with Heather or in his room with a headache or other vaguely believable reasons. And Billy always seems to be on his way out whenever Steve gets up before a night shift. 

It’s starting to piss him off. He has no idea what sparked the change. And he hasn’t seen Billy in person long enough to ask him. Last night, Billy was blasting Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've) by the Buzzcocks, making Steve wonder if Billy had been seeing someone and it ended badly. The music was so loud that Billy didn’t even hear Steve knock on his door.

Maybe tonight will be the night they can sort it out. Steve is running late for Friday night drinks with their group of friends because he had to process a patient right before clocking out.

When he gets to The Upside Down, everyone is already there and Billy is in a corner with Heather, talking animatedly. They stop when they notice Steve has arrived. 

Once again, Steve wonders what the fuck is going on with Billy, and why he won't talk to him about it.

“Hey, dingus!” Robin hands him a beer as he sits down next to her. “Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Got delayed at work and had to stop at home first,” Steve says, taking a sip, eyes on Billy who is looking at his drink. “What did I miss?”

“Heather and Billy bitching about Tommy, mostly,” Robin replies with a shrug.

“We have news,” Nancy says, from where she’s sitting with Jonathan across the table, gathering everyone’s attention. “I, um, I got the job at the New York Times so we’ll be moving in the next month or two.”

The whole table erupts in happy shouts of congratulations. Steve feels a short pang of nostalgia at the thought that the dynamics of their group of friends will change, losing two of its core members. And now he’s worried about losing Billy on top of that.

“You okay, Stevie?” Robin asks, nudging him gently with her elbow and Steve sighs.

“Yeah… just… tired.” He keeps glancing at Billy, who is avoiding eye contact.

“Uh huh. Come help me get the next round,” she says, standing and looking at him expectantly.

Steve gets up and follows Robin to the bar, dreading the conversation he knows he’s coming.

Robin doesn’t waste any time once they get away from the table. “You told him yet?”

“Told who what?” Steve retorts, aware that his reply won’t fly with Robin. He wants to turn around to see if Billy is looking but resists the urge.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what I mean,” she says, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. “You need to tell him how you feel.”

“Why?” Steve doesn’t see why he can’t keep secretly crushing on his best friend and roommate, instead of upsetting the status quo and risking everything. But then, the way Billy has been avoiding him makes him dread the day he’ll come home from a shift at the hospital and Billy will be gone, leaving behind a note, if he’s lucky.

“Because that man has been gone on you for freaking years and you’ve been too blind to see it. And because he, at the very least, needs to know you’re not as straight as he believes you to be.” Robin squeezes his hand. “And if you won’t, then you need to find a way to move on and let him go.”

“Rob…” Steve’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought and something heavy settles in his gut.

“You can’t keep going like this, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You both do.”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Robin is right. He can’t live like this. He needs to do something . “Fine.” 

“Fine what?”

“Set me up on that stupid date with that guy you think is so perfect for me.”

Robin stares at him for a long time before she speaks. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Steve shrugs. “Sounds better than losing my best friend when he inevitably turns me down.”

*****

Billy needs to get out before he punches a hole in the wall.

He was having a drink before he got started on dinner prep when Steve woke up after his night shift and sprung the news on him that he was going out. On a fucking date . It took all of Billy’s control to not hurl his beer bottle at the wall.

Now Steve is getting ready and Billy locked himself in his room, pacing and trying not to scream. If Steve brings the girl home at the end of their date, Billy might have to throw himself out of the window.

He grabs his phone and texts Heather.

hank, you busy

need to get out of here

steve going on a fucking date

why is this happening to me

the universe hates me

hank

holloway

heather

come on 

i need you

please hank

i’ll jump out the window

Billy regrets having quit smoking because he’d kill for a cigarette, if only for something to do with his hands that’s not serial texting Heather or punching his pillow because he can’t make holes in the wall and risk losing the security deposit.

OMFG Blondie, calm your tits!

don’t tell me to calm down what if he brings his date home

i can’t do this i’ll pack a bag and move out while steve’s on his date

Jesus Fucking Christ, William.

First of all, you live on the first floor, so you’re unlikely to do much damage to yourself if you jump out the window.

you underestimate how much i can do out of spite

I would laugh at you so much before I called the ambulance.

you’re supposed to be my friend and you’re making fun of my pain

Ugh. Seriously, Billy, I’m out on a date with my girlfriend right now.

everyone is on a fucking date fine let me die alone

I swear to God, you are such a drama queen.

We’re at Enzo’s, come over, I’ll buy you a drink and you can crash my date, I guess.

oh so now i’m good enough to meet your girlfriend

steve just left i heard the door

Wear something nice.

why 

Because Enzo’s is a nice place and they won’t let you in if you’re wearing your sweatpants and your ratty Scorpions t-shirt.

Clean button down and your nice jacket, if you please.

heather 

William.

ugh fine

gonna have a quick shower first

If you must. Want me to get you an Uber? 20 mins?

yes please

thank you hank

love you

Love you too, Blondie.

Billy takes a quick shower and speeds through his hair care routine before putting on the clothes Heather requested. He’s ready and outside a couple of minutes before the car Heather ordered for him arrives.

He tries not to think about Steve and his date and attempts to distract himself by doom scrolling on Instagram. Steve posted a photo of a candle on a white table cloth in his stories. On the verge of tears, Billy closes the app and puts his phone in his pocket. 

Heather is waiting for him outside the restaurant and hugs him as soon as he steps out of the Uber.

“You clean up good, Blondie.”

“Fuck off,” Billy says, but there’s no anger in it. He feels drained and heartbroken. Steve is wining and dining some chick and Billy wants to cry. He’s glad Max is away, cycling the length of New Zealand with Lucas, because there’s no way he could take her ‘I told you so’ right now.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to my girlfriend.” Heather leads them through the doors and past the maître d’. Billy looks ahead and something clicks when he spots Robin in a booth at the back of the room. Someone is sitting across from her but he can’t see who yet because they have their back to the room.

“I knew it.” 

“What?” Heather asks, glancing back at him for a second without stopping.

“You and Robin.”

Heather stops then and turns to face him. “What do you mean, you knew? You never said.”

“Both of you saying you have a mystery girlfriend you don’t wanna talk about? That no one can meet or know anything about?” Billy shrugs and manages a small smile. “I’m happy for you, but I don’t get why you felt you had to hide it.”

“Sorry. It was nice to keep it to just the two of us at first and then we weren’t sure how to tell everyone. Then it kinda became a game to see how long it would take you guys to notice and say something.”

Billy nods towards the booth where Robin is sitting. “Looks like I’m not the only one crashing your date night.”

“Oh,” Heather says, with a smile that Billy recognizes, it’s the one meaning she’s up to no good. “That’s your date.”

***

Steve is getting really frustrated with Robin. They’ve been sitting at Enzo’s for over twenty minutes and she still hasn’t told him anything about this mystery person she set him up with. She said her girlfriend is waiting outside to bring them in and encouraged Steve to enjoy his rum and coke and the complimentary breadsticks.

“Oh,” he hears a familiar voice say behind him, “that’s your date.”

He turns around and freezes on the spot, his hand gripping the table for support. Heather. Robin’s girlfriend is Heather . He remembers having many discussions about it with Billy but they could never decide whether the two were actually together or not.

There’s movement behind Heather and someone steps out beside her. Steve’s heart skips a beat. It’s Billy. He’s wearing that dark red button-down shirt that looks so good on him and his nice jacket. Steve feels his heart rate speed up.

Billy looks as confused as he does so Steve turns back to Robin. “Robin... What…what’s going on?”

“Well, Stevie, I told you that my girlfriend knew someone who’s perfect for you,” Robin says with a satisfied grin and Steve wants to shake her until she explains. He puts his hands on his thighs and squeezes them into fists. 

This is not happening.

“What the fuck do you mean, Harrington is my date? He’s the one who’s on a date, Hank, not me.”

Hearing Billy refer to him by his last name hurts, like a knife through the heart. He hasn’t done that since the first months they lived in the dorms back in college, before they became friends. Steve never expected their friendship to end in a fancy restaurant in front of an audience but apparently this is happening now and there is nothing he can do about it.

Heather shoves Billy forward and Robin gets out of the bench seat so Billy can sit there instead. He does so only after Heather glares at him and Steve takes a closer look at him. Billy still won’t make eye contact with him and Steve can tell he’s clenching his jaw, like he does when he’s angry or frustrated. Before either of them can say anything, Heather puts both hands on the table and looks at each of them in turn.

“Both of you, shut it and listen,” she starts, Robin standing by her side, looking resolute.

“Hank—” Billy starts, shutting up when Heather lifts one eyebrow and gives him a withering look. 

“No. This has gone on for far too long. I know it’s bad form to out someone but needs must. Billy, honey, Bambi here is not as straight as you think. I am not sure why he hasn’t told you yet, but I know that Robin has been on his case about it for ages. And you,” she turns to Steve and he sits up straighter. 

The woman is scary, Steve isn’t afraid to admit it. He stays silent and waits to see what she’s going to dish out.

“If you can’t see that my boy here has been gone on you pretty much since he met you, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Robin puts her hand on Steve’s and gives him a light squeeze. “I told you the other night you couldn’t keep going like this. You and Billy need to talk. Take the time you need, enjoy your dinner and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Heather pats Billy’s shoulder then she takes Robin’s hand, and they leave the two of them alone. Steve is reeling from the exchange, his mind stuck on what Heather said to him.

“Billy…” he starts, the words dying in his throat when he sees the haunted look on Billy’s face.

“Is it true?” Billy whispers, fiddling with the ring on his finger. His cheeks are pink and his shoulders curled up like all his confidence drained away. 

It makes Steve’s chest hurt to see him like this. He reaches across the table but his hands stop just short of Billy’s. “Yeah, I’m… I’m bisexual. I, um, I was going out with this guy called Sam a couple of months ago but I broke up with him.”

“Why?” 

Billy’s voice is just above a whisper, his eyes shiny with unshed tears and Steve wants to punch himself for putting them there.

“He wanted to, um, to go all the way, and when I said I wasn't ready for that yet, he decided to get it from someone else. I found out and dumped him.”

“Okay.”

“Billy…” Steve waits for Billy to look at him and this time he slides his fingers over Billy’s. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess… I guess I was scared.”

“Scared? Steve, I’m gay, what did you think I was gonna say if you told me?”

Steve breaks eye contact and looks down at their hands on the table. His reason for not telling Billy seems flimsy as fuck now. “I was scared I would tell you you’re the reason I realized I was into guys and you wouldn’t feel the same way about me. And you’re too important to me and I didn’t want to risk what we had.”

Billy laughs then, but it’s a wet, sad kind of laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Billy turns his hands over and links their fingers together. “Pretty boy, I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“You… you never said anything.” Steve feels his cheeks heat up.

“Steve, you always said you were straight. I didn’t see the point. It was hard enough when I knew you were actually in a relationship with someone but when you mentioned Robin setting you up on a date the other day, I couldn’t pretend to be okay with it anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Billy. I’m so sorry.” He can’t believe he almost missed out on this. Almost lost Billy. “I realized you were avoiding me but I couldn’t work out why. Every time I came home from work, I worried you would be gone for good. And it broke my heart.”

Billy must see something on his face because he leaves his side of the table to sit next to Steve, his arm going over Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close.

“Baby… I’m sorry. It hurt too much to be around you.”

Steve wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and buries his face in Billy’s neck, inhaling the scent he knows so well, taking comfort in it. After a moment, he pulls back just enough so he can look Billy in the eye. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Billy doesn’t say anything in reply, instead he moves his hands to cup Steve’s face and presses their lips together. 

Steve melts into the kiss. He never wants it to end. He wants to climb inside Billy’s chest and live there forever. He finds that reality is so much better than any dreams he had.

A discreet cough behind them puts a stop to the kiss and they pull apart slowly. A waitress is standing by their table, holding a tablet to take their order. Steve looks at Billy, who nods with a smile.

“I’ll just… um, pay for the drinks, and we’ll be on our way, sorry for the trouble,” Steve stammers, feeling his cheeks heat up, trying to process the fact that he just made out with Billy in the middle of a fancy restaurant. Oooooops.

“That’s fine, sir, the tab for the drinks was settled earlier,” the woman says with a smile.

“Oh, okay.”

Billy squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “Let’s go home, pretty boy.”

Steve smiles before untangling himself from Billy and getting out of the seat. He feels Billy following as he gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls a twenty dollar note from it. He hands the waitress the tip and thanks her before taking Billy’s hand in his and leading the way towards the exit.

They make out against the wall while they wait for the Uber that takes them home, and pick up where they left off as soon as they walk through their front door. They kick off their shoes and take off their clothes in record time then tumble in a tangle of limbs onto Billy’s bed.

Steve is naked with the man he loves and they’re kissing and laughing and dry humping like teenagers and he doesn’t remember ever feeling this happy and content with anyone.

Later, when they’re both sated after a couple of orgasms each, they pad to the kitchen in their boxers. Billy makes them chocolate mug cakes that they eat with ice cream under a blanket on the couch. Phones turned off to keep the bubble they’re in intact, they put on Justified.

“Hmmm…” Bill says, looking at the screen with a smirk.

“What?” Steve asks, half expecting what comes next.

“I guess I should have asked Ava or Boyd, really.”

Steve groans as Billy cackles, the blanket falling off them.

“Dick,” Steve says, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “Okay, Raylan or Boyd?”

Billy pretends to think about it, Steve can tell. Then he looks at Steve, all serious. 

“You.”

~~~

Please look forward to the wonderful work from the next contributor: @lorifragolina

[bubooo]

↬ rock candy

prev | 4↬ lost without you | next

✧ rocking facts :

yn and noya just need a little time apart,,,

since yn spends almost every sunday with the bros™️ noya will usually have a solo practice for a good chunk of the day and he usually wraps up by the time yn is getting home so they can have a little movie night to wind down and just chill together

this is one of yn and noya’s few serious fights in their years of friendship, they have rarely had arguments that have ended in not speaking for days like this one has

without fault yn’s brothers (and rin since he came into the picture in high school) have been there for her through everything and she’s extremely comforted by the fact that no matter what she can fall back on them to support her, just as she will always do for them

of course she’s also so thankful to have iwa as a friend as well, since he’s pretty levelheaded and is pretty damn good at seeing things from a different perspective, plus he does a great job of knocking sense into people

the texts to the miya gc took place RIGHT after yn and noya’s texts so noya is still at the gym at that point

he was planning on maybe talking to yn when he got home but she was not there which really only hurt more - he found out she went to atsumu’s from iwa

yn had to very carefully crawl out of a cuddle pile (aka all three boys piling on top of her) so she could go out onto atsumu’s balcony to call iwa

they ended up talking for a good two hours before yn very sternly told iwa to go to sleep since she knew he had practice in the morning

btw if it’s not obvious the tweet iwa was referring to was the “i fucked up” tweet from yn’s priv that was in the last chapter 🫡🫡🫡

even after yn comes back to the apartment the next day she and noya don’t speak to each other because neither one can figure out how to even start approaching the situation - thus lots of avoidance and lots of awkwardness for the other roommates (rip)

↬ a/n : really short part i’m sorry 😞 but the next part should probably make up for it 🔥 i’ll be honest i’m not even sure i like this part but i’ve already started writing the next part so it would be too much to redo so WE MARCH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

# taglist : @eujoana89 @loveelylacey @walllflowerrrsss @le000xxgrd @punkhazardlaw @csbnova @jaynawayna @hyenagoated @lvtilzs @nbcvs @nyxlai @kazunish @dawnisatotalqueen @piapiaweee3 @kuroosmikasavolleyball (send an ask to be added !! for my sanity LMAO)

[ronsenthal]

George Luz x Reader

Summary: It became quite clear after all the hell you went through together from Camp Toccoa to Berchtesgaden that George Luz was something else. 

A/N: Hello there! Dear @ithinkabouttzu, I am so happy I can finally say that I am your summer gift exchanger from the @hbowardaily summer exchange event!!!I was so excited when I learned this because I’ve been a fan of your works for quite some time so I tried to make something nice for you in return. I really hope you like it!

The endless days of chatting and the countless late hours in the night of comfortable silence between you two filled your heart with joy and hope.

With the whole weight of the world on your shoulders you felt like you didn’t have the strength to keep going, but that’s when he showed up to help you ease all the pain, to help you handle it. It was always him.

Of course now it was really easier to even begin to put into words, it was almost like all the pain and the fear you went through the whole damn war blocked your eyes so it took you some time away from the boys to realise how much you did miss them. Your hands were trembling when you reached this cream white envelope in the pile of mail that came in earlier, it has this fancy calligraphy on the front and a tiny little wax seal on top, it was an invitation addressed to everyone from Easy Company to come at the Nixon’s house for a reunion, the first one since “the split”. 

You counted the days and hours to see all the guys together, to hear their stories, to see their faces and hug the hell out of them. 

When the day came you woke up really excited, got into your fav dress and headed to the party, well, at least you expected it was indeed a party given it was Lewis Nixon as the host. After you reached the address you had to blink like ten times before your eyes adjusted to the scene. The bastard came up with a whole amusement park for everyone. 

As you took your steps towards the host you saw a bunch of familiar faces, some different ones. The war changed everyone but the post-war added some civilian clothes, different hairs and even beards.

“Hey kiddo I thought you were not coming? You never replied to my letter!!!” Nixon said with a smile on his face and a big bottle of whiskey in one hand.

“I wanted to surprise you, asshole” You said with a cheeky smile on your face and rushed to hug him tight. 

“It’s so good to see you too” he said, rubbing your back while you stayed there holding each other. 

“Where are the rest of the gang?” you asked looking around “Ronald came in? And what about Dick?” 

“I was looking for the headhead myself, he is probably having another ice cream or something. Ron sent his apologies and couldn’t make it, he was busy with some fancy army thing he said he couldn’t talk about or he would have to kill me” Nix said while rolling his eyes which made you laugh out loud.

You had so much to catch up, you looked around and saw Lipton quietly having a beer with Martin and Bull, Liebgott arguing with Webster just like the old times. At this point Nixon and Winters were just walking around like those couples in old romance books but your eyes were scanning all the faces, your heart ready to skip a beat at any moment. 

When you saw his face it was like the world got warmer, his smile sent you back in time and forward into the future and the sound of his laugh was like the most beautiful symphony to your ears. Your feet had their own mind and when you realised they were leading you to him. 

He suddenly saw you too and got up and left poor Buck talking to a tree as he started to walk towards you. 

“Hey you showed up! I was starting to worry because Nix said…” you cut him as you wrapped your arms around his torso to give George the biggest hug ever. 

The familiar smell and the way his chest went up and down had some weird calming power over your body, felt like home. But after some time you let him go just to get a hold on his arms as you two walked around and just chatted about life.

You laughed so hard when you saw Shifty walking with this huge teddy bear he got from the balloon shooting game stall and George watched your eyes glowing so he took you by the hand and dragged you to the stall. 

Poor boy was dejected after he failed almost all his 5 shots and got you only a small plush duck. It didn’t matter, the small duck meant so much to you because it came from him!

It was starting to get dark and everyone was quite drunk already when Dick called up for some announcements. He made a beautiful speech about how he was happy and proud to see everybody. It was getting too emotional when Lewis cut him off and invited everybody for the barbecue dinner he arranged. The scene was so familiar, everyone holding up a plate in a long line waiting to get some food. Martin called you both to share a table and chat a bit more.

“So how is everything back home? Anyone we should worry about and talk to?” Martin asked you with his protective tone and suddenly you felt like everyone was watching you? 

“No! No one and if there was someone you guys would be the first to know” you replied trying your best not to blush or look at George, but sometimes you felt like he could read your mind and see your heart like no one else, in that moment he covered your hand with his. 

The subject then naturally changed but his hand stayed in place for everyone to see, but the guys didn’t seem to notice even when he started to rub circles at the back of your hand. That was it, the final straw.

“Georgie, can I talk to you for a second? In private?” you said biting your lip, your heart beating faster and faster.

“Of course sweetheart” he said fastly taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out in the ashtray on the table. He got up and waited for you to take his hand so you could lead the way.

The eyes of all the boys followed you with confused looks as you nervously went out dragging an even more confused George behind you.

“Is everything okay?” This time there was no confusion on his face, instead it was fear.

“No it’s not okay” You said with a trembling voice “This was a big big mistake” you continued pointing at everything around. 

“I don’t understand, what is wrong?” He sounded exasperated, curious and scared. 

“Forget it please, it’s stupid let’s go back the guys are waiting for us” 

“No I’m not going anywhere else until you tell me what is wrong, because THERE IS something wrong” he said holding your hand once more. 

This sent some kind of electricity as his fingers touched you and you froze in place. He took a step forward and you closed your eyes, shaking your head rapidly. 

“You don’t understand George, do you?”

“What is wrong? Did I say something wrong? Please tell me, you’re scaring the shit out of me sweetheart. Talk to me!” tears started to roll down your cheek and you closed your eyes even harder. 

“That’s the problem, you are the problem, you are my friend George! My fucking best friend”

“And what is wrong with that? I don’t understand it please….”

“You fucking idiot” you said wiping away the tears with the tip of your fingers “I love you!”.

You finally let out the words that were stuck in your throat for so long, eight letters that were fighting so hard to be free, that were constantly tormenting you floating around your brain and growing inside your heart, fighting to survive. 

You quietly let all the tears flow when you felt his arms wrapping your body, as always it worked its magic and calmed you down. It was almost like you could finally breathe again.

“Well now we have a problem” he said with a huge smile on his lips.

“What? Of course we have a big fucking problem George! Didn’t you just hear what I said?” you looked really confused now. 

“Yes, yes we will get there sweetie” he said laughing “But first we will have to endure the endless shit show the guys are gonna pull out the moment they learn that we are a couple, because sweetheart… I don’t even know how to say it but I love you back”

He gave you a quick kiss on your lips and started to drag you back to the table with a cheeky smile and a little wink, just for you.

And of course he was right, there were applauses, screams and whistles when you two finally emerged holding hands.

Taglist: @mads-weasley, @footprintsinthesxnd, @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @malarkgirlypop, @lostloveletters, @next-autopsy, @ewipandora, @executethyself35, @easycompany123, @whollyjoly

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Eddie’s coming home from the hospital today, and Steve is quietly singing along to love songs like they’re on the radio, but they’re not; they must be just in his head.

Dustin wants to enjoy it, wants to simply look forward to calling the others; they have an ongoing list of songs Steve has sung unconsciously, ranked according to various degrees of embarrassment, the current winner being his butchering of German in Rock Me Amadeus.

But he can’t. He can’t enjoy any of it.

There’s a window open in the car.

Steve keeps it down unless it’s crazy bad rain, ever since he found out that Erica can get motion sick sometimes.

Dustin grips onto his knees.

He’d tried to convince himself it was all centred around the hospital. That he could contain it.

But now he’s in Steve’s car (Steve’s car! Familiar and safe, where there’s still that streak of mud along the inside of the door from Dustin’s sneakers); he’s in Steve’s car trying not to breathe, because every time he does, he sees those damn particles floating in front of him.

“Okay, what?” Steve says, sounding both amused and resigned.

Dustin sucks in the slightest amount of air that he can manage. “Hmm?”

“Dude, I know you. Whenever you’re this quiet, you want something from me.”

“That’s an erroneous conclusion,” Dustin says.

Steve is meant to say something like oh yeah, erroneous, blah, blah, blah.

But Dustin knows his delivery is off when Steve just gives him a sideways glance while they’re stuck in traffic—knows that Steve misinterprets whatever look is on his face, because the driver window is being quickly wound down, too.

“Hey, do you feel sick? I can pull over.”

“I’m good,” Dustin says, only just managing to suppress a shiver as more cold wind seeps inside.

Steve doesn’t seem particularly happy with that answer, but the traffic starts moving again, leaving him with no choice but to drive on.

“Okay, just—we’ll be five minutes tops, all right? Just look at the, uh, horizon.”

Dustin looks ahead.

Doesn’t mention that all he can see is what the sky looked like from the trailer roof.

-

There’s a stack of books at the end of Eddie’s hospital bed—Steve’s gone back to the car to get a cardboard box for them. Dustin spots Nancy’s copy of Little Women on the top of the pile.

(During a visit where Nancy had driven him over, Eddie had made them wait in the corridor for a full five minutes before telling them they could come in, and when they did he was clutching the book with red-rimmed eyes, staring at Nancy so accusingly that Dustin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Beth?” Nancy had said, fighting a smile at Eddie’s melodramatic sigh.

Eddie mimed throwing the book at her, careful not to actually damage it. “Fucking Beth.”)

Another book’s in danger of slipping off the edge of the bed; Dustin catches it before it can fall. Peter Pan. He flicks it open, sees a childishly crooked Property of Steve written in pencil on the title page.

Eddie’s pressing some folded clothes into a bag on the other side of the bed. He looks up.

And Dustin suspects that when he went to the bathroom, Steve and Eddie must’ve had some sort of conversation about him, because Eddie says, “Go sit down, I’ve got this,” like Dustin’s the one who’s been recovering in hospital.

“What, scared I’ll rip your books?” Dustin asks, and this time he knows he’s hit just the right tone of normality, just the right mixture of teasing and petulant, because Eddie snorts.

“Shuddup,” he says, and then he lunges for Dustin, ruffling his hair. His hand lingers for a second, tilting so the back of it touches Dustin’s forehead.

“What the hell?” Dustin says, shoving him off playfully.

Eddie’s still grinning from their tussle, but it fades a bit as he gives Dustin a once-over.

“Thought you looked a little peaked,” he says with a shrug.

Dustin forces an eye roll. “I’m fine.”

Eddie seems to accept that, but he pours an extra glass of water and leaves it on the table; and when Dustin takes it, his mouth opens, and Dustin silently pleads inside his head don’t ask me, don’t ask me, and—

Steve’s voice echoes down the corridor, soft and lilting: Islands in the Stream.

Eddie chuckles. “That’s another one for the list,” he tells Dustin, but his eyes glitter like he doesn’t find it embarrassing at all, and when he’s bundling up the books, his fingers trace the front cover of Peter Pan like it’s a rare gem.

Oh, Dustin thinks. Then: You’re so happy.

Steve enters the room with the cardboard box held aloft like it’s a trophy, and Eddie laughs, makes a quip: “Jesus Christ, we’re not at one of your basketball games, Steve.”

Steve grins, briefly bends his knees as if on the basketball court. “You wish.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, shoots Dustin a look as if to say who does this guy think he is?

But his eyes are saying something else.

He passes the books over to Steve, chatting easily about whatever chapter he’d got up to, and their hands touch with such casual intimacy. There should be no space for them to worry here, Dustin decides—and so, for the rest of the day, commits to being the most carefree, boisterous version of himself he can manage.

-

It gets to the point where the window in his room is permanently shut.

Where he suddenly has this awful feeling of doubt—that this is something he should’ve called a code red over long ago.

He calls Will, twisting the phone cord around his fingers over and over, so tightly that it hurts.

“Will, you know when. Your—your episodes. The Mindflayer. What. What did it feel like?”

The ensuing silence makes shame run down his spine, cold as ice.

But when Will speaks, he doesn’t sound hurt, or even the slightest bit frightened.

“Why?” he asks.

“It.” Dustin grits his teeth. “I’m worried it might. Might be happening again.”

Another silence, and then Will says, very gently, “Dustin, it’s all closed off. I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Okay.” Dustin blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes. “Okay.”

“You… you know you can talk to me, right?” Will says, tentative and kind, too kind, because Will is the kid who disappeared, who’s had to deal with all this shit for years, stuff that Dustin could never—

“Yeah,” Dustin says.

“My mom, she’ll be home soon,” Will says, rushed suddenly, like he can sense Dustin’s about to hang up, “if you wanna—”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ve gotta go,” Dustin says all in one breath, and ends the call.

And he realises something—kind of hates himself for it. That if The Upside Down was really back, he would’ve felt terrified, sure, but also…

Relieved.

Because the alternative is that the problem is him.

[writeyouin]

I've managed to write a bit again, so here is a small sample of a long-awaited TFA Sentinel Prime X GN Reader :

Although Sentinel wanted to leave, he stayed, mostly because he couldn’t fathom why you hadn’t told on him. He regretted that decision when Ratchet asked him to chat, privately. By that point, you were too tired to protect Sentinel further, and the pain medication had made you somewhat woozy. Besides, even if you had been in any shape to argue, you couldn’t keep up with either of them on a bandaged leg, and without assistance, you couldn’t get down from the medical berth provided.

Once Ratchet had got Sentinel out of your sight, he began yelling, “I don’t know what you did, but your darn lucky that human isn’t selling you out! That’s far more loyalty than you’d ever give to them!”

“Wha-” Sentinel spluttered, offended and slightly intimidated by the older bot.

“Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me. Young bots are all alike, all arrogance and no spark. Do you know how long it takes for an injury like that to heal in humans?! AND (Y/N) WILL BE TRAPPED HERE FOR A FEW DAYS, BORED AND ALONE SINCE YOU KEEP TELLING EVERY DAMNED BOT WHO’LL LISTEN TO YOU HOW LITTLE YOU THINK OF HUMANS!”

“I-” Sentinel held up a finger to argue, but Ratchet slapped his servo away.

“Don’t you dare try to argue with me,” He said dangerously. “I’ve seen (Y/N) a few times since she started working with you. You’ve overworked that poor kid for no reason at all, and let me tell you something- That kid won’t quit. You can pile on all the work you want, and (Y/N) will do it. They’ll exhaust themself to do anything you ask, all because they’re the bigger person and want to be friends.”

Ratchet barked a mirthless laugh, continuing his tirade, “Friends, HAH! Butyou won’t let that happen, will you, Mr. Bigshot. No, ‘cos you’re so superior. Well, anything to say for yourself now?”

Sentinel looked somewhat ashamed and contrite after Ratchet’s verbal whipping, yet he let his anger bubble up and overtake him.

“I am your superior officer,” He spat contemptuously.

Ratchet shook his head, disgustedly. “Then lead by example and do something worthy of the title.”

The older bot was about to walk away, but Sentinel wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, so he stormed ahead first, rushing back to the room you were stuck in.

“Come on (Y/N), I’m taking you home.”

“I just told you (Y/N) has to stay here,” Ratchet yelled, catching up.

“Not if there’s someone to take care of them.”

“And you’re gonna do that?”

“Yes!”

[sequinsmile-x]

Reprise

Aaron gets a call, and it feels like nothing short of history repeating itself.

-x-

Hi besties,

So, I recently realised all of my hurt comfort lately has been Aaron comforting Emily...so then I wrote this.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Minor Emily Prentiss whump, pregnancy, minor injuries

Words: 3.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He keeps getting interrupted.

Paperwork was the most boring part of his job, but one of the most important. If they got it wrong, if even the tiniest detail was missed, then it could be used as a technicality by a defence lawyer. An error that could lead to a dangerous individual being back on the streets, which was something Aaron didn’t want to weigh on his or anyone on his team's shoulders. He’d been there. Had felt guilty over mistakes he’d made before, and any assurances that he’s human, that he’s bound to make mistakes occasionally, would always fall flat. 

He was reviewing casework, desperate to get the pile of files in front of him finished so he could go home and spend the evening with his wife and kids, but every time he was getting somewhere someone would knock on his door to ask a question. A distraction that could lead to a mistake that meant he found himself reading the same pages again and again, not making any progress as the clock ticked closer and closer towards his little girl’s bedtime. 

He’d already sent Emily a text. Had let her know he was running late and to have dinner without him but that he’d be home before the kids went to bed. If he wasn’t away on a case, bath and bedtime were his jobs, now more than ever because of Emily’s pregnancy. Not only was she struggling to kneel on the floor next to the bath these days, but she was exhausted all the time. The four years that had passed since she’d had Mae were enough for her to have forgotten how rough pregnancy was, especially now she’d just tipped over into her third trimester. 

He knew if he called her, if he told her he’d be even later than he thought, that she wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d say that she understood and she’d hand the phone over to Mae, would encourage the four-year-old to speak to him over the phone so he could at least say goodnight to her. Then, when he did get home, she’d kiss him hello and offer to make him a drink whilst he went to Mae’s bedroom to kiss her forehead and just watch her for a minute or two. Her face relaxed and her cheek pressed into the pillow as she hugged her favourite toy to her chest. Both she and Jack, and the little boy Emily was currently pregnant with, were a reminder that good things existed. That he had the life he once thought he’d never get a chance at again. 

There’s a knock on his office door and he sighs, shaking his head as he calls out for the person to come in, his pen already placed down on his desk.

At this rate, he’d get home to everyone already in bed. 

“You could look happier to see me,” Dave says, smirking at him as he leans against the doorframe, “I am your best friend after all.” 

“Emily is my best friend,” he corrects, leaning back in his chair. 

“She’s your wife.” 

Aaron smiles despite his irritation at being interrupted, “She’s my best friend too,” he says, his smile getting wider when Dave furrows his brow, “Have you ever thought this might be why none of your marriages worked out?”

He places his hand on his chest in mock hurt, “You know, you used to be a lot nicer before you married Emily,” he jokes, and they both laugh. 

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted me?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at him, “Or did you just come in to ruin my flow again?” 

“I’ve finished last month's budget reports for you,” he says, pulling them from behind his back and placing them on his desk, “All you need to do is sign them.” 

Aaron looks up at him, “I’m not going to unknowingly sign off on the department paying for your next book tour am I?” 

Dave chuckles and shrugs, “Guess you’re going to have to see how much you trust me,” he jokes, “You should just go home, Aaron. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow.” 

He sighs and nods, “I know. I wanted to make more progress than I have. Cruz has been breathing down my neck.” 

“You’ve got two kids and a pregnant wife, who happens to head up his Counterterrorism unit, at home. He’s not going to begrudge you going home,” he looks at his watch, “Especially when it’s already an hour past the end of your day.” 

Aaron knows he’s right, but old habits died hard. Even now he found himself getting sucked into work, although never as badly as he had when he was married to Haley. In some ways, he found that Emily's understanding of his job in the way she did helped, because if she ever asked him to take a step back it made him question himself, made him do as she asked of him. He wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t proud that Haley asking him had never been enough, but he knew it meant that he’d learnt from his past. That he hadn’t brought the mistakes from his first marriage into his second one. 

“You’re right, I’ll-” he’s cut off when he hears his phone ring, the vibration of it against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office. He frowns at the withheld number and picks it up, sending Dave an apologetic smile as he answers, “Aaron Hotchner.” 

“Hi, Mr Hotchner, I’m Lisa, I’m an ER nurse at Stafford Hospital…” 

Everything slows down around him, his chest stuttering as time moves like syrup, every second sticking in the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe as he tightens his grip on his phone, surprised he doesn’t crush it as the nurse confirms what he already knows she’s going to say. 

“Your wife and children were brought in this evening after being involved in a car accident.” 

___

Emily wasn’t answering her phone. It doesn’t even ring. 

He calls her. Again and again and again and she doesn’t answer. Each time it goes straight to voicemail the sound of her voice on her personalised message makes him ache, his shoulders so tight as he drives he worries they may pop out of the joints. 

He tries again, presses the speed dial in his car but it goes to voicemail again. Her voice ringing out through the speakers around him. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Emily Prentiss, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Em, call me back, please,” he begs, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him this might be the last time he hears her voice, that this will replace whatever she’d said to him when they left for work that morning in their separate cars, “I’m…please answer the phone. I love you.” 

It’s familiar. Too familiar. His hands tight on the steering wheel as he’s desperately trying to get to the woman he loves. Fear greeting him like an old friend as it breathes down his neck, its hand about to reach out for him and grab him by the shoulder. He tries to tell himself that it’s okay, that she and the kids are fine, but he can’t stop thinking that she hasn’t answered her phone. 

She would answer if everything was okay. She’d call him if everything was okay. 

He doesn’t remember a second of the journey by the time he makes it to the hospital. He flashes his badge at a security guard who tells him he can’t park where he’s pulled up, not caring if it’s an abuse of power. Every single cell in his body vibrating with fear and pre-emptive grief and guilt. He should have been with them. If he’d just gone home when he should have he would have been with them. 

He walks up to the desk in the ER, grateful there isn’t a line of people. He’s already speaking to the nurse before she looks up at him, all of the details he had spilling out of him in a second, words tripping themselves as he desperately gets them out.

“I got a call about my wife - Emily Prentiss, she’s pregnant. And my children Jack and Mae Hotchner. I was told they were in a car accident.” 

“Okay,” she says, looking at the computer, “Let me just check my system for them…” She drifts off as she types, and he hates how good he is at his job. Hates that he sees the very brief furrowing of her brows before she smiles up at him, “Did you say Prentiss?” 

“Yes,” he replies, his voice barely recognisable even to himself. 

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t see that we have any patients in the ER with that name, and I can’t see your children’s names either.” 

He grips the counter, his fingers pressed against cheap wood as he holds himself up, “What do you mean they aren’t on the system?” He demands, shouting at the young woman in front of him even if he doesn’t mean to, his desperation reaching an all time high. He finds himself wishing he’d taken up Dave’s offer of driving him here so that he wouldn’t be alone for this.

“It could mean a couple of things, it could mean they’ve already been discharged,” she swallows thickly, “Or, I’m so sorry but it could mean-”

“Dad?”

He turns around so fast at the sound of his son’s voice that he pulls his neck, but the pain that flares in it barely registers. All the anger and grief floods out of him in an instant the moment he sets eyes on him, on them, standing just a few feet away. Emily is standing next to Jack, her arm around his shoulders and the other arm securing Mae to her hip, the little girl’s face pressed against her neck. The only visible sign of injury is a bandage on Emily’s forehead, the stark white of the material a sight that is a little too familiar for his liking. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, making it to their sides in a few seconds, pulling them into his arms. His whole world in his embrace before he pulls back, dropping a kiss to Jack’s forehead and then turning to kiss his little girl’s and then finally his wife, “I thought…you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know,” she says, unwrapping her arm from around Jack’s shoulder to cup Aaron’s cheek, her skin warm against his, “I’m so sorry baby. It was broken in the crash. Couldn’t even get it to turn on,” she looks over at the desk, a flash of irritation in her eyes, “And they wouldn’t let me call you myself.” 

“And you’re…” he looks her up and down now he’s closer and then at the kids, looking for cuts and injuries that weren’t there. 

“We’re okay. If I’d been in the car alone, if I wasn’t pregnant, I probably wouldn’t have come to the hospital,” she assures him, her hand slipping down to his neck, her thumb tracing back and forth over his jaw, “We all got looked at. We have some bruises from the seatbelts, and I hit my head on the steering wheel. But the doctors were happy to discharge us.” 

“You’re okay?” He asks, breathless, as if he’d run all the way here. He places his hand on her bump and the baby moves, the breath Aaron sucks in rattling back and forth between his ribs, “And the baby?” 

“He’s okay too,” Emily assures him, adjusting her hold on Mae. She turns to look at her, obvious fear shining in their daughter’s eyes and she tickles her to draw out a laugh, “We saw baby brother on the screen, huh?” 

Mae nods, her excitement at being a big sister overtaking everything else, “We saw his peni-”

“They said everything looks good. Told me what to look out for that would mean I had to come back in, and I have to arrange a check up with my OBGYN in a couple of days. We got new pictures,” Emily says, cutting over her toddler, not missing the poorly hidden smiles of amusement from some of the people sitting in the waiting room, and the horror on some of the other faces at a four-year-old knowing the anatomical terms for intimate body parts. She presses her lips together and looks at her husband, “I can show you when we get home?” 

“As long as the doctors are sure everyone is okay,” he says, “Maybe I should talk to someone, ask them to look at you all again.”

She smiles, passing over Mae so he has the comfort of their little girl in his arms, and he takes her willingly, stamping his lips against her forehead as he holds her close. She melts into his embrace, exhausted by the stress of what had happened, and he runs his hand soothingly up and down her back. 

“Honey,” Emily says, reaching for his hand, linking their fingers together so she can squeeze his palm against hers. “We’ve all been cleared. We’re okay. I promise. Right, kiddo?” 

Jack nods, “Right,” he smiles at his Dad, “Can we get pizza?” 

Aaron chuckles, the residual panic still simmering in his gut, but he clears his throat and nods, wanting more than anything to just get his family home where he could keep them safe, “Yeah buddy,” he says, ruffling his hair, “We can get pizza.”

___

“I have a feeling we’ll wake up with both of them in our bed,” Emily says as she walks into their bedroom, groaning as she sits down, her body aching in more ways than it usually did these days, “But they are both asleep.” She turns to look at Aaron. He’s sitting on the bed too, an arm's length away, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, “Honey-”

“What happened?”

She sighs and swallows thickly. They hadn’t spoken about it, not whilst the kids were with them. An unspoken agreement that they’d leave it until they went to bed. Neither one of them wanting Jack and Mae to relieve it when they were awake, when it was likely they would in their dreams. 

“It was low impact,” she says, shifting towards him until their thighs touch. The guy behind us wasn’t paying attention, he was on his phone,” she reaches for his hand when he tenses and links their fingers together, “He went into the back of us at a red light. He’d already been slowing down because he saw it go yellow, he just missed it going red.” 

“He could have killed you.”

“He rear-ended us.” 

He all but growls, “He was being careless.” 

She makes him look at her, her hand cupping his chin as she forces him to turn his head, “Something that I made very clear with a lot of colourful language Mae might start repeating during breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

Aaron sighs and kisses her knuckles, “What were you doing in the car anyway? I didn’t know you were going anywhere.” 

She presses her lips together, giving herself a moment before she answers the question she’d been dreading all night, well aware of what his reaction would be, “We were bringing you dinner.” 

His eyes go wide, the internalised anger she expected flashing in his eyes, frustration she knows he’s sending inwards for not being home on time written in the tension in his jaw.  What she doesn’t expect, what she doesn’t see coming despite knowing him better than she knows herself, is the way he bursts into tears. A sob caught in his chest that sounds like it hurts, cracking his ribs from the inside out, the sharp edges of them catching on scars that were already scattered across his skin. Like he’s tearing himself apart from the inside out in the same places another man once tore him apart from the outside in. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out, barely getting a second before he leans forward and presses his face against her neck, his tears burning her skin. She holds him close and turns her head to kiss his forehead. She blows out a shaky breath, seeing him this upset enough to tip her over the edge herself, “We’re okay-”

“I know you’re okay, Em,” he chokes out, tears leaving tracks on her neck, his words muffled against her collarbone as his misplaced anger turns into the grief he couldn’t shake off, “But I keep going back to that moment when I didn’t know that you were. It felt like…” he drifts off and chokes on the rest of his sentence, “It felt like my world was ending. If I lost you…” 

She pulls back so she can look at him, and she presses her forehead against his, her hand curled around the back of his head as she holds him in place, “Sweetheart,” she says, the nickname he usually used for her slipping free, “I’m right here,” she says, reaching for his hand to place it on her chest, making a point of breathing in and out deeply so he can feel the rise and fall of it, “I’m okay. The kids are safe and asleep in their beds,” she shifts their joint hands to her bump and she smiles when the baby kicks, “Baby boy is kicking up a storm as always. We’re right here. You didn’t lose any of us. This isn’t like what happened with Haley,” she reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek, “We’re all right here.”

He chokes on a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He shakes his head, making it knock gently against hers before he pulls back to look at her, “Sometimes I think you know me a little too well.” 

She shakes her head and squeezes the hand still pressed against her bump, “I’m your wife. I don’t think it’s possible for me to know you too well.” 

“I’m so-”

“I don’t want to hear any apologies,” she says, wiping his cheeks again, “Not for staying at the office late. Or for crying. You have nothing to apologise for, okay?” 

He nods, resting his forehead against hers, “Okay.” 

They wear a door open just down the hall, and then the thundering of Mae’s tiny feet against the hardwood floor. When she opens their door and pokes her head around it she has tears shining on her cheeks, her lips trembling as she steps into the room. 

“Mommy, Daddy, I had a bad dream.” 

Emily shifts back from Aaron just enough to make room for the little girl, “Come here, baby. Do you want to sleep in our bed tonight?” 

She nods as she climbs onto the bed, settling herself onto Aaron’s lap, “Yes please.” 

Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

Mae looks up at him and frowns when she spots his damn cheeks, “Are you sad Daddy?” 

“I’m okay, baby,” He sighs and runs his fingers through her hair, exchanging a quick look with Emily before he returns his attention to his little girl, “I was just scared because you, Jack, Mommy and baby brother could have been hurt.”

She moves so she’s level with his face, all but standing in his lap now, his hands on her waist as he secures her in place. She kisses his forehead, making both him and Emily smile, and then she pulls back, “We’re okay.” 

“I know, princess,” he kisses her forehead in return and encourages her to sit back down, “Are you okay to get comfortable in bed whilst Mommy and I get ready?”

She nods and then tilts her head curiously, waiting until both her parents are standing up before she speaks, “Daddy?” 

“Yes, Mae?” 

“What’s a douche canoe?”