#and that’s okay if you do! but talk about it instead of keeping it to yourself or you’ll get bitter

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[corkinavoid]

Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

[sturniolohouse]

Camera Shy - M.S.

reader and matt go to a 3D ultrasound appointment to get a glimpse of their future daughter, who is seemingly camera shy.

“This is freaking me out,” Matt mutters, his face pale as he stares at the 3D image on the screen. His fingers drum nervously on his thigh that is bouncing up and down. 

"I know. It’s a little alien-like, huh," I say, watching the screen like a hawk, but all I can see are what look like limbs in the swirly mix of brown and tan on the screen. 

“Is that an arm or a leg?” He gawks at the screen, his blue eyes wide with a mix of awe and unease.

“That was an arm, although she does have very long legs,” the tech speaks up, her tone amused but light as she presses more buttons on the panel. 

I chortle, shaking my head. “Explains why she kicks me in the ribs constantly.”

“I’m just going to apply a little more pressure here to get a better angle of baby’s face. She’s sort of nestled into your side here,” the tech says, shifting the wand and pressing it deeper into my skin. 

“She really doesn’t want to cooperate today, does she?” I say, half-joking, though a part of me feels a pang of disappointment.

“Stubborn already,” Matt remarks, glancing at me with a small smirk. “Definitely takes after you.”

“Excuse me?” I shoot him a playful glare. “If anyone’s stubborn, it’s you. You do the same thing when I try to wake you up, grump,” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, playing dumb, the corner of his mouth twitching.

The tech chuckles, clearly amused by our banter, “Why don’t you try moving her a bit? Press your hand onto this side and gently nudge her. See if that does the trick,” 

I place my hand where she instructed, pressing in a few times, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen. I watch for any sign of movement, but she stays put, stubbornly nestled against my side. I sigh deeply, but do it again, a bit harder this time when the tech encourages me that I can't hurt her. I feel her stir before I see it on the screen.

“Oh, oh, alright. Are you gonna show us your face, little one?” I ask softly and Matt moves in closer to get a better look. 

For a brief second she shifts position, giving us a teasing glimpse of her tiny profile. But just as quickly as she moved, her little hands shoot up to cover her face again, curling tightly into fists.

Matt groans playfully, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s like she knows,” 

“Oh wow, she’s definitely got a personality. Got her hands balled up in front of her face and everything.” She chuckles softly, and I sigh, glancing at Matt.

“Well, now we can say she definitely gets that from you,” I tease, tilting my head toward him. “Guess she won’t be a morning person either.”

Matt shoots me a side-eyed glare, his cheeks already tinged pink from the nerves that always seem to take over during these appointments. 

“I’m kidding,” I go to poke his cheek but he grabs my hand, gently pushing it away from his face and instead encases it in his warm hand. 

“Do you want to turn on your side, hun? Might make her change positions,” The tech offers another solution and I wave a hand at her and shrug. 

“That’s okay, she clearly doesn’t want to be bothered. We’ll try again next week.” I sigh, trying not to think about how she might be too big by then to get a good imaging. I'll be 32 weeks.

“I…might have an idea,” Matt speaks up hesitantly and I turn to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What’s your idea?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him though the corner of my mouth quirks up.

“Alright, don’t yell at me. It’s all I can think of,” he begins, grabbing his phone from his pocket. 

“If you do something stupid–”

“I’m not!” he insists, but his giggles give him away.

I watch him with a mix of skepticism and amusement. “You’re totally about to do something stupid.”

Matt grins mischievously, typing away at his phone, “Trust me,” he says, giggling as he pulls up a music app. “This is guaranteed to work.”

Before I can protest further, the room fills with the unmistakable bass drop of Sicko Mode. The tech freezes for a second, glancing between the two of us–clearly entertained, while I stare at Matt in disbelief.

“You’re kidding,” I say in absolute shock. “You’re seriously playing Travis Scott for her right now?”

“You’ve told me she does somersaults when music is on, Sicko Mode is the only way,” He reasons with nervous laughter.

I turn to the tech and ask her if I’m having a stroke, to which she shakes her head as she watches this scene unfold, trying her best to stifle her laughter.

“Will you at least turn it down,” I snap but can’t help but laugh as he shushes me and brings the speaker closer to my stomach.

And I’ll be damned... She moves. The screen flickers as her tiny fists shift, moving to rest beneath her dimpled chin, her face perfectly in frame.

“You’re actually kidding me—”

“I told you!” Matt exclaims, practically bouncing in his chair, his grin so wide it’s infectious.

I press my hand over my mouth, a mix of laughter and disbelief bubbling up. “I can’t believe she actually moved for Sicko Mode.”

Her tiny features are clear now, her face peaceful and perfect. My heart tightens.

The tech is laughing now, shaking her head as she looks at the screen. “I have to say, this is a first for me. But hey, whatever works,” She says as she starts snapping pictures.

We all tune out the music for a moment and watch the screen, finally soaking in the face we've been dying to see for months. I feel a lump rise in my throat and I almost tear up as I take in the faint resemblance of Matt in her little features–the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips–but my thoughts are interrupted.

“She looks exactly like you, kid.” Matt says suddenly, his voice soft and full of awe.

I blink, turning to him. “What?”

“Look at her,” he insists, pointing at the screen. “That round little face, that's your nose…look, at that little pout. C’mon that’s you,” He's smiling ear to ear.

I laugh quietly, brushing at my eyes. “I don’t know about that. I see you in her. You make that same face,” I sniffle.

Matt squeezes my hand, his grin and his eyes softening into something more tender. “Nah. She’s all you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes stay locked on the screen.

I turn back to the image on the monitor, my throat tight as I take in every detail of our perfect girl.

“Maybe she’s a little bit of both of us,” I whisper.

I glance back at Matt, who’s still playing Travis Scott aloud, “Unbelievable,” I mutter, shaking my head, though I can’t stop smiling. “Can't believe the only way she came out of hiding was because of Sicko Mode. You must be so proud.”

“Are you kidding me? Proudest moment of my life,” he replies, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

I snort, shaking my head, pressing my lips together and trying to keep a straight face. “You’re so annoying,” I say, though my laughter gives me away.

“And yet,” Matt starts, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping into that familiar teasing tone, “you love me for it.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, yeah,”

[stylesispunk]

"Our little mistletoe" day 2/4

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary: You got sick during the week of Christmas. Unable to leave home, Joel brings Christmas to you, and some feelings are confessed.

wc: 6,3>

warnings: just fluff. (Yes, no angst.)

a/n: welcome to the second day of my joel's fic christmas version event. Perhaps, PERHAPS I will add one more day to this mini event. Thank you so much for the love on the day one of this mini event! So glad you lived that one. ♥️♥️ It's funny that at the same time, I'm writing this, I'm sick, but instead of cozy blankets and cold weather, here it's hot. I need Joel to come and save me. I don't know if you're gonna like this one as much as the fic one, i hope you like it though. Happy reading 💌

By this time of the day, you would have been already on Joel’s house, helping him to get everything ready for tonight’s dinner. Setting some last-minute decorations with Sarah that he always had forgot to put on display inside the house.

You weren’t the biggest fan of Christmas or travelling during these holidays, but you always had put a show for him, especially for Sarah since she was a little kid.

And he loved that. He loved it so much.

The way you belonged to his house, the way your skin seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, the smile you grace when he was opening the gift you had delicately chose for him.

Or the way you smelled like sweet pastries

You, just you.

You were his favorite part of the holidays and of life itself. You were woven into every tradition, every memory that mattered. From the moment you stepped into his life, you'd filled spaces he hadn't even known were empty.

Joel watched as you carefully adjusted a wreath over the fireplace, your fingers lingering to straighten the ribbon just so. Sarah had darted into the kitchen to check on the cookies, leaving the two of you in the soft glow of the Christmas tree.

“Think it looks alright?” you asked, turning to him with a smile that knocked the wind out of his chest.

“Looks perfect,” he murmured, but he wasn’t talking about the wreath.

You laughed, shaking your head as if you could brush off his intensity. “You always say that.”

“’Cause it’s always true,” he replied, voice low and warm.

You turned back to the decorations, but Joel kept his eyes on you, taking in the way you fit into this moment as though you were meant to be here all along.

It wasn’t just Christmas. It was you. It had always been you.

Joel’s thoughts came back to the present moment as worry nagged him. He checked on his phone, the last message he had sent you remained there, not even seen.

Joel’s thumb hovered over the screen, his brow furrowing as he stared at the text.

You on your way yet? Sarah's been asking for you.

The read receipt hadn’t popped up, and that alone was enough to set him on edge.

You were never late, especially not for Christmas dinner.

The sound of laughter floated from the kitchen as Sarah shouted something about burnt cookies, but Joel couldn’t focus. His gut twisted with a sense of unease he couldn’t shake. He stood, pacing toward the window, glancing out at the driveway that remained empty.

He checked the time. It wasn’t like you to keep him waiting.

Pulling his coat off the hook, Joel stepped out onto the porch. The cold air bit at his skin, but it didn’t matter. He needed to do something, anything. The world felt too still, too quiet without you in it.

He dialed your number, pacing back and forth as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Joel ran a hand down his face, gripping the back of his neck as his heartbeat picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered under his breath, glancing at his phone again.

Just as he was about to call again, the door behind him creaked open, and Sarah peeked out, a worried look on her face.

“Dad? Everything okay?” she asked.

Joel forced a smile he didn’t feel. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just...waitin’ for her. You know how the roads can get this time of year.”

Joel barely had time to answer Sarah’s question when the sound of tires crunching against cobblestones pulled his attention. He turned toward the driveway to see Tommy’s truck rolling in, headlights cutting through the early winter dusk. Relief warred in his chest.

Tommy stepped out of the truck, shaking off the cold as he made his way to the porch. "Merry Christmas eve, big brother," he called, his usual smirk in place. But it faltered when he got a good look at Joel’s face. "What’s with the long face? Something happened?"

Joel didn’t waste time. “I need you to stay here with Sarah.”

Tommy blinked, confused. “What? Why? Ain’t this the time we’re all supposed to be gathering’ ‘round the tree, singing’ carols or whatever?”

“I think somethin’ might’ve happened,” Joel admitted referring to you, his tone heavy with worry. “She isn’t here yet. Ain’t answerin’ my messages or calls, and that just...ain’t her.”

Tommy’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by quiet seriousness. “Alright. I’ll stay. Go find her.”

Joel gave him a firm nod, patting his shoulder in thanks before grabbing his keys and heading for his truck. He was halfway down the driveway, his mind already running through the possibilities, car trouble, icy roads, something worse, when his phone buzzed on the seat beside him.

He swerved to a stop, snatching the phone up. It was you.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice sharp with worry. “Where the hell are you? Are you alright?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and then your voice came through, soft and raspy. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I overslept. I think I’m coming down with something.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and concern flooding through him. “Jesus, you scared the hell outta me. You could’ve called sooner.”

“I know,” you murmured, guilt laced in your tone. “I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas eve or worry you. I just...I feel awful.”

Joel’s grip on the phone tightened as he pulled off the road, parking his truck. “Ruin my Christmas eve?” he echoed, his voice softening. “You’re the only part of it I care about.”

There was a pause on your end, and Joel could imagine the way you’d be biting your lip at his words. “I’m sorry, Joel. I really wanted to be there, but I barely can keep myself up.”

“You don’t gotta apologize. You just sit tight, alright?” Joel's voice was firm but gentle, there was a lace of disappointment hanging there, but because of the thought of you spending all this night alone. "I’ll figure it out. Just rest, okay? I’ll check on you later."

You let out a tired sigh, tinged with a hint of guilt. "Okay. Merry Christmas eve, Joel. Tell Sarah I’m sorry."

Joel’s chest tightened at how small your voice sounded, the strength you usually carried replaced by exhaustion. "Merry Christmas eve, darlin’. Just take care of yourself, alright?"

He ended the call, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. The engine idled quietly as Joel sat there, the glow of his truck’s dashboard lights illuminating his face. You might have been stuck at home, but that didn’t mean you had to spend Christmas Eve alone.

A plan had come up to his mind.

He swung the truck around, heading back toward the house with a sense of purpose. When he pulled into the driveway, Tommy was waiting on the porch, bundled in his coat, a questioning look on his face.

"Everything alright?" Tommy asked as Joel climbed out.

“She’s sick,” Joel said, already heading toward the front door. "Ain’t coming over."

Tommy frowned. "Then why are you back? Givin’ up that easy?"

Joel shot him a pointed look as he stepped inside. "Hell no. We’re taking Christmas to her."

Sarah popped her head out from the kitchen, her face lighting up when she saw her dad. "She’s not coming?"

"Not feelin’ well," Joel explained as he grabbed a couple of boxes of decorations from the living room. "But that don’t mean she’s missin’ out."

Sarah grinned, catching on to his plan. "You mean we’re bringing all this to her place?"

"Damn right we are," Joel said, already sorting through the things he’d need. "Grab the cookies, the rest of the food and some of the lights."

Tommy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

Joel shot him a look that said everything. "All of us, Tommy. Come on”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading as realization dawned. “Wait, me too?

Joel didn’t even pause as he grabbed another box of lights. “You’re comin’. You’re part of this family, ain’t you?”

Tommy smiled, following Joel into the kitchen, where Sarah was already busy wrapping up the food with a determined look on her face. “Fine, but don’t blame me if I eat half those cookies on the way.”

“You do, and you’re walkin’,” Joel shot back, his voice teasing but his pace relentless.

Within minutes, the truck was packed to the brim. Lights, food, decorations, everything that screamed Christmas was crammed into the back. Joel stood by the truck, taking a deep breath, his hands on his hips as he looked over the load.

“Think she’ll like it?” Sarah asked, her smile lighting up her face.

Joel turned to her with a small smile, his tone soft. “She’ll love it, baby girl”

“Alright, let’s go before I change my mind about this,” Tommy muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.

As Tommy settled into the passenger seat, he rummaged through one of the bags he’d grabbed last minute from the house. A sly grin spread across his face as he pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe, holding it up between two fingers.

“Don’t forget about this, big brother,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief as he waved it in Joel’s direction.

Joel glanced over, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ with that?”

Tommy shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Figured you’d want it. Never know when it might come in handy. You will Kiss her tonight, brother”

Joel rolled his eyes, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Tommy, don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’.” Tommy leaned back, twirling the mistletoe like it was some kind of trophy. “You’re doin’ all this for her, haulin’ Christmas across town like some kinda lovesick Santa Claus. Might as well seal the deal.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned, his voice low and pointed. “This ain’t about that.”

“Oh, sure,” Tommy said, his grin widening. “Just about spreadin’ some holiday cheer, huh? Totally normal to pack up half your house for a ‘friend.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, earning a laugh from Sarah in the backseat.

“Uncle Tommy’s got a point, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her voice light but playful. “I mean, you like her, right? Why not just go for it?”

Joel gripped the wheel a little tighter, his jaw working as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t give Tommy and Sarah even more ammunition. “Ain’t the time for that,” he muttered.

Tommy leaned forward, mistletoe still in hand. “Oh, come on, Joel. You’re already playin’ the hero tonight. Don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out now.”

Joel shot him a glare, but Tommy just laughed. “You’re impossible,” Joel muttered, snatching the mistletoe from his brother’s hand and tossing it onto the dashboard.

“Just keep it handy,” Tommy said with a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”

Joel shook his head, but the teasing didn’t stop the thought from creeping in. The mistletoe sat there, a quiet challenge he wasn’t quite ready to face, as they drove toward your house.

You had just started to drift off, the ache in your head and the warmth of your blankets pulling you under, when a knock at the door jolted you awake. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but there it was again, a firm, familiar rhythm that made your heart stutter.

Groaning softly, you pushed yourself up, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you shuffled toward the door. The pounding in your head didn’t do much to help the confusion swirling in your mind. Who would be here at this hour?

You opened the door a crack, peeking out cautiously, only to have your breath catch in your throat.

Joel stood there, snow dusting his hair and jacket, his arms holding a box full of things that looked suspiciously festive. Behind him, Sarah and Tommy were standing by the truck, each holding their own share of decorations and food.

“Joel?” you croaked, your voice rough from the scratchiness in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes sweeping over you with concern. “You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, pulling the blanket closer around you. “What’re you doing here?”

“Bringin’ Christmas to you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Joel took the opportunity to step inside, brushing past you gently as he carried a box of decorations toward your living room. Sarah and Tommy followed suit, grinning like conspirators as they set down their own loads of holiday cheer.

“Wait, wait,” you protested, your head spinning as you tried to keep up. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No,” Joel said, turning to face you, his expression warm but resolute. “But I wanted to. You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone, sick or not.”

Sarah appeared at your side, holding a plate of cookies wrapped in foil. “We made these for you! Well, Dad baked them”

“Did you bake them?” You asked, recieiving the plate from Sarah.

“No, I bought them, really. I made Sarah believe I was baking” he replied, without giving himself credit.

“Such a fake” you said, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, though it quickly turned into a cough. Joel was at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, steadying you.

“C’mon,” he said, guiding you gently toward the couch. “Sit down. Let us take care of this.”

“Joel,” you began, your voice hoarse but filled with emotion, “you really didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded into the background. “You’re part of this, part of us. Always have been. So, yeah, I did.”

You blinked at him, your chest tightening with something that wasn’t just the cold. Before you could respond, Tommy called out from the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, Tommy’s voice broke through the moment, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

“Well, look at this,” he drawled, stepping closer with the infamous sprig of mistletoe in his hand. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. She looks at you like you’re her Christmas miracle, Joel. Might as well give her a reason to keep starin’.”

Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tommy, don’t—”

But Tommy was already moving. With the precision of a man who lived to be a menace, he slipped the mistletoe into the back pocket of Joel’s jeans, patting it smugly as if he’d completed a masterpiece.

“There,” Tommy declared, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Now you’re carryin’ it everywhere, just in case the moment strikes. Plus,” he added with a wink in your direction, “I think someone else here might be on board with this idea.”

Your face burned as the attention shifted to you, and you quickly glanced away, pretending to be fascinated by the pattern on the blanket you’d pulled over your lap.

“Tommy,” Joel growled, his voice a low warning.

“What?” Tommy said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “I’m just tryin’ to help. I mean, come on, big brother. Don’t act like she ain’t got that same look you’ve been sportin’ for years now.”

“Tommy,” Joel repeated, but there was a faint flush creeping up his neck now.

You managed to peek up at Joel, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Tommy’s teasing words might’ve been delivered with a smirk, but there was truth buried in them.

Joel caught your gaze, and for a split second, everything else seemed to fade.

“Alright, enough,” Joel said finally, dragging a hand down his face as he shot Tommy a glare. “Don’t you have somethin’ better to do?”

“Not really,” Tommy quipped, sauntering off toward the pile of lights he’d been working on.

As the room filled with Sarah’s chatter and the sound of Christmas music Tommy had turned on, Joel lingered by your side, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Don’t pay him any mind,” he murmured, his voice soft enough that only you could hear. “He’s just talkin’ nonsense.”

But when you glanced down at the faint hint of green peeking from his back pocket, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Tommy wasn’t entirely wrong.

As the evening wore on, the laughter and warmth filling your small home was everything you hadn’t realized you needed. The twinkling lights Joel and Sarah had strung up bathed the room in a soft glow, and the scent of cookies and food mingled with the piney aroma of the small tree Tommy had managed to haul inside.

But as much as you loved the idea of them bringing Christmas to you, the pounding in your head refused to let up. You tried to hide it, smiling and laughing as Sarah excitedly talked about different things, but she was too perceptive for her own good.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked gently, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to you on the couch.

You waved her off with a weak smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah wasn’t convinced. She glanced over at Joel, who was mid-conversation with Tommy about fixing the uneven lights on the tree. “Maybe we should let her rest,” Sarah said softly, her concern evident. “We can go back home. It’s been such a nice night already.”

“No,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter despite the dull ache in your head. “I don’t want you to leave. You’ve already done so much, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you packing everything up after all this effort.”

Joel turned his head at the sound of your voice, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale complexion. “You sure, darlin’? You look like you could use some quiet.”

“I’m sure,” you insisted, though the words came out weaker than you intended. “You’ve made this place feel like Christmas. Stay. Please.”

Tommy smirked from where he was fiddling with the ornaments. “Guess that settles it. Looks like we’re havin’ a sleepover.”

Sarah’s face lit up. “Really? We can stay?”

You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Of course. There’s plenty of room.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking between you and Sarah. “Alright, but only if you promise to tell me if you’re feelin’ worse. I mean it.”

You nodded, touched by the concern in his voice.

“Well,” Joel said, clapping his hands together. “If we’re stayin’, how ‘bout a movie? Somethin’ Christmas-y.”

Sarah practically bounced in her seat. “Home Alone!” she suggested immediately.

Tommy groaned. “Haven’t we seen that one a hundred times?”

“Exactly,” Sarah retorted, grinning.

Joel chuckled and looked at you. “What d’you think?”

You leaned back into the couch, grateful for the blanket Sarah had draped over you earlier. “Home Alone sounds perfect.”

Sarah bounced up from the couch, eager to grab snacks and drinks for everyone. As she passed Joel, she flashed him a mischievous smile. "You can sit by her now, dad," she said, her voice teasing. "She's gonna need someone to keep her warm."

Joel gave her a mock glare, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he stood up and made his way toward the couch. He carefully settled beside you, just close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt intrusive. He was getting really nervous about your company tonight in a way his heart seemed to explode at the thought of touching you.

“Comfy?” he asked quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs that you were still struggling. His hand rested on the couch cushion next to yours, as if he was just waiting for the right moment to reach for you if you needed him.

You smiled faintly, grateful for his care. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice still a bit rough. “Thanks for staying. This... this means a lot.”

He glanced at you, his gaze softening. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, darlin’.” There was a tenderness in his voice that made your heart flutter despite the headache.

You shifted slightly on the couch, the warmth of his presence comforting, and without thinking, you leaned in closer, resting your head gently on his shoulder. You could feel the muscles in his arm tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted just enough to make sure you were comfortable, his warmth enveloping you like a protective blanket.

For a moment, you simply listened to the sounds of the movie and the gentle chatter of Sarah and Tommy, feeling the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breath beneath your ear. The headache was still there, pounding softly in the background, but having Joel so near helped ease the tension in your body, his steady presence grounding you.

Joel’s hand, which had been resting on the cushion beside you, slowly moved. At first, it just hovered near your shoulder, but then, as though asking permission, it settled softly on your arm. His touch was gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, his voice low, barely louder than the sound of the movie.

You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak. His presence, his warmth, it was exactly what you needed, even if you hadn’t realized it before. You allowed yourself to sink further into him, feeling a small sense of peace settle over you.

Joel’s hand tightened just slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to remind you that he was there.

I’m here, and I’m not leaving.

The steady rhythm of Joel’s breath, the warmth of his body next to yours, and the gentle hum of the movie in the background all worked together to lull you into a calm, peaceful state. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the exhaustion from the day and the pounding headache making it harder to stay awake.

As you settled deeper into the couch, Joel’s presence became the anchor that kept you grounded, and before you knew it, you drifted off, your breathing slowing into a relaxed, steady pattern. The last thing you were aware of was the comforting weight of his arm around you, pulling you just a little bit closer, as if he too was holding onto this moment, savoring the peace and quiet that you shared together.

Joel didn’t say anything as you fell asleep. He simply let you rest, his hand lightly stroking your arm as he made sure you were comfortable, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. His heart swelled with a tenderness that made him afraid of his feelings.

As you slept peacefully, nestled against Joel, the soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a warm hue across the room. The only sound was the low hum of the movie playing in the background and the occasional shift of movement from the others.

Tommy, who had been lounging on the armchair, glanced over at the two of you with a smirk. He was doing his best to stifle a laugh, but it was clear he couldn’t resist.

“Well, well,” Tommy teased quietly, “You look adorable together.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to Tommy, a mix of annoyance and something else flickering in his gaze. He could get used to spend every day with you like this.  “Shut up, Tommy,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone was far from harsh. He didn’t want to wake you, not when you were so peacefully resting.

Joel shot him a warning look, but the corners of his lips tugged into a smile despite himself. “You’ve got a hell of a way of making things awkward,” he grumbled, but it was clear he wasn’t bothered by the teasing.

Meanwhile, Sarah had curled up on the floor with a blanket, her eyes already fluttering closed. She was tired from the day’s events, her excitement finally catching up to her.

Joel looked down at you again, his hand still lightly resting on your shoulder as if unwilling to move. But then he noticed Sarah, fast asleep on the floor, and a new thought came to him.

“Tommy,” Joel called quietly, nudging his brother once more. “Can you help me get Sarah to the guest room? She’s out cold, and I don’t want her sleepin’ on the floor.”

Tommy, not missing a beat, grinned widely. “I can’t believe you’re getting rid of your daughter to get a girlfriend,” he teased, winking at Joel.

Joel didn’t even respond to that, his attention already on you. “Just help me, damn it,” he muttered, trying to keep the playful teasing to a minimum.

With a sigh, Tommy got up and walked over to Sarah, carefully lifting her and making sure she didn’t stir. Joel remained on the couch, his heart still racing from the tenderness of the moment, silently praying that you wouldn’t wake up just yet.

As Tommy returned to the living room, he gave Joel a quick nod, signaling that Sarah was settled comfortably in the guest room. Joel looked down at you, still asleep on his shoulder, and a deep tenderness washed over him. He wasn’t sure if he could carry you without waking you, but seeing you so peaceful in his arms made him want to do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable.

He carefully lifted you, one arm gently supporting your back and the other under your knees. His movements were slow and deliberate, trying his best not to disturb you. Your soft, steady breathing was a comfort to him as he began walking toward your bedroom.

Tommy, noticing the situation, gave Joel a teasing grin. “You sure you don’t need help, Joel?”

Joel shot him a look, his usual gruffness softened by the moment. “Just keep it down, alright? Don’t wanna wake her.”

Tommy’s grin only widened, but he stayed quiet, giving Joel the space he needed.

As Joel made his way into your bedroom, he gently lowered you onto the bed, making sure your head was resting comfortably on the pillow. He tucked the blanket around you, his fingers brushing against your skin for a brief moment. It wasn’t much, but the way you looked so peaceful made something inside him stir, and for a second, he just stood there, watching you.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the soft curve of your features, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Get some rest, darlin'," he whispered, as if the words could protect you from whatever might come next. "I’m right here."

Joel returned to the living room, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. Tommy, who had been half-leaning on the couch with his feet up, looked up at him with a smirk. Joel wiped a hand across his face, trying to shake off the quiet weight of the night.

“I’ll take the sofa,” Joel said, his voice low. “You can take the other bed in the guest room. It’s all set up.”

Tommy gave him an exaggerated shrug, as if to say he didn’t care where he slept. “Alright, alright. Guess it’s good to be the one on the couch for once.” He stood up and stretched, heading toward the guest room Joel had pointed out. “Night, man.”

“Night, Tommy,” Joel muttered, already turning back toward the bedroom.

Once everything settled down, the house was quiet again, save for the soft sounds of the holiday decorations swaying and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Joel moved softly, making his way back down the hall to your room, checking the time briefly as he walked. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to be near you, even if you were sleeping.

When he pushed open the door to your room, expecting to see you still sleeping peacefully, his heart stuttered in his chest. There you were, awake, your eyes wide, watching him from the bed. The soft light of the bedside lamp illuminated your face, casting a warm glow over your features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just taking in the presence of the other.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, leaning against the doorframe, his voice hoarse, like he was still trying to process the night.

You offered him a tired smile, but there was something else there too, an understanding, something deeper that only the two of you seemed to share “How did I get here?” you asked.

Joel stepped closer, his eyes softening. “I carried you to bed.” he confessed, his voice gentle. His gaze dropped to the bed, the warmth of your presence drawing him in. “You feeling better?”

You nodded slightly, even though you knew you weren’t completely alright. But there was something about having Joel near you that made you feel just a little more at ease.

“I’m alright now," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you should get some rest too. You’ve done more than enough."

Joel stood there for a beat, as if considering what to say next. Then, he smiled softly, a trace of that quiet tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll rest when I know you’re okay.”

With that, he pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting down so that he could keep an eye on you. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay there, but he didn’t mind. He just needed to know you were alright.

You shifted slightly in the bed, glancing over at Joel, who was still sitting in the chair, watching you with that soft, protective look in his eyes. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you studied him for a moment.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the weight of the night lingering in the air between you. "You don't have to sit there all night."

Joel chuckled quietly, though it held a hint of disbelief. "I'm just making sure you're okay," he said, his voice low but reassuring. He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. "I told you, I’ll rest when you’re alright."

You could see the exhaustion etched on his face, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the long night, but there was still that protective energy about him. You couldn’t help but feel grateful, though you also felt a small ache in your chest seeing him so worn out.

“You can sleep with me, Joel," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to stop them. You quickly added, "I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to keep sitting there."

Joel’s expression softened as he took in your offer. He hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability in the air palpable between you two. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a little rough with emotion. "I think I’d like that."

He stood up slowly, as if testing the idea, then moved to your side. You shifted to make room for him, pulling the blanket back slightly. As he lay down beside you, his warmth seemed to fill the room, and you could feel the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

Joel settled in beside you, not too close but close enough that you could feel his presence. His hand brushed yours, and you both let out a quiet, simultaneous sigh of relief. He shifted onto his side, facing you, his eyes scanning your face as if to make sure you were still okay.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still, only the quiet sound of your breathing filling the space. Finally, Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and soft.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you glanced over at him. "I’m better now," you whispered. "With you here." You paused for a moment “What you did tonight…I can’t find the words to thank you.”

Joel smiled, a small but sincere curve of his lips, as he adjusted slightly, bringing you closer to him. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’re important to me.”

His words, though comforting, didn’t stop the weight of your emotions from building up inside you. The closeness, the warmth of his presence, and everything that had happened tonight made your heart swell with something deeper than gratitude.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head slightly, your eyes meeting his with a vulnerability you hadn’t shown before. “I love you, Joel,” you said, the words coming out softly but with a sincerity that made your chest ache.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his thumb still brushing lightly over your hand. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice deep and full of emotion.

You frowned, a little pout forming on your lips as you shifted slightly. “No, you don’t understand,” you murmured, feeling the weight of the moment grow even more. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, almost too heavy to breathe through. Joel’s gaze softened, searching your eyes as if trying to understand what you meant. And when he did, his expression shifted, becoming more tender, more real. Before you could pull away, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the intensity of the confession, but also seeking the comfort of his warmth.

Joel’s hand gently cradled the back of your head, his thumb still brushing through your hair as he held you close. The room was filled with a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and then, in the softest of tones, he spoke.

“Can you repeat it?” His voice was a little rough, full of longing, but there was a hint of vulnerability there too.

You shook your head, keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck, trying to gather the courage to meet his gaze again. The weight of your own confession was still hanging in the air, making you feel exposed and raw. You mumbled against his skin, “I can’t. It’s too much.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. He shifted slightly, pulling you back just enough to tilt your chin gently upward, so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. The tenderness there was undeniable. “That’s bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “’cause I’m in love with you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, eyes wide with surprise. The feeling of his words settled over you, warming you from the inside out, making your heart race.

“I—” You started, but the words stuck in your throat. The vulnerability between the two of you was overwhelming, and yet, it felt like everything had finally clicked into place. There were no more doubts. No more fear.

Joel smiled softly, the warmth of his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re here now.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a promise, a shared truth. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence sink into your bones, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you. It felt like everything you’d hoped for was finally coming into focus.

Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the softness of your skin as he looked at you, his eyes full of tenderness and something deeper. His gaze was steady, searching for any sign of doubt, but all he found was you—vulnerable, open, and more than ready for what was happening between you two.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice low but full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, with you.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your heart swelling with emotions too big for words. “I know,” you whispered, a smile finally tugging at the corners of your lips. “I know now.”

Joel’s smile deepened, and in that moment, it was like the world outside of your little bubble didn’t matter. All that existed was the two of you, tangled up in something more real and beautiful than you could have imagined.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with the softest of touches, as if asking for permission. And when you responded, meeting him halfway, the kiss deepened, both of you tasting the sweet vulnerability of this new chapter.

You pulled away slowly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling. “You’re gonna get sick now”

Joel chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his hands finding their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m not letting go now.”

You laughed quietly, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “You’re stubborn,” you said, but there was no annoyance in your voice—just affection.

“And you love me for it,” he replied with a playful grin, his thumb tracing small circles on your back.

You smirked, rolling your eyes slightly, though your heart was full. “I do,” you admitted, your voice soft, the words carrying more weight than you’d ever thought they would. “I really do.”

Joel smiled, his expression softening as he leaned in once more, brushing his lips against yours, but you placed your hand up to stop him for a moment, hanging the little mistletoe over your heads.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin as you held the mistletoe above your heads. "Where do you get that from?" he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You smirked, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and mischief. "I stole it from you," you replied, your voice teasing, yet sincere.

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. "I should’ve known," he said, shaking his head with a playful sigh. "You’re sneaky."

You shrugged, the mistletoe still hovering between you. "I had to make sure it was the right moment."

He chuckled again, and this time, his hands found your waist once more, pulling you close as he leaned in, his eyes softening. "Well, since you put it like that..."

With a grin, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss deepening as you both shared in the quiet joy of the moment.

Joel pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and full of warmth. "You know," he said, his voice low and sincere, "you’re the best gift I could ever ask for."

You felt your heart swell, and a soft smile tugged at your lips. His words, simple yet heartfelt, made everything feel right. Before you could respond, Joel’s grin returned, playful yet tender.

"And," he continued with a teasing glint in his eyes, "I hope you’ll take care of me when I inevitably get sick from all this kissing."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. "Oh, don’t worry," you replied, your tone light but affectionate, "I’m more than happy to take care of you."

Joel chuckled, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. "Good," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

The warmth between you both felt like the perfect ending to a night full of new beginnings, and as he kissed you again.

And again.

And he thought he would never get tired of it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[coffeegnomee]

There is Nothing like the feeling of seeing two people interact after a year and 9 months and them being exactly the same.

The not accepting Zam's self depreciation/being wrong that vi was right, vi's little punches to emphasize his point. his really (really Really) long contemplative pauses. zam's silence, nervous jumping, waiting to hear what vi might be thinking. vi's difficulty in choosing words but also being devastating when he does (eclipse is his favorite story ever told on lifesteal. ok so just kill me now). zam's emotional leaning (i just really missed you. do you want to watch the sunset?) zam showing love but feeling like he can't be exuberant about bc he shows it by saying words while vi shows happiness by smiling silently (and wanting to talk off stream). the absolute dread from zam when vi couldn't find the words to describe his feelings, the pure joy giggles when vi instead said he missed it. the back and forth "hi's" when the convo gets lost.

But both of them growing and maturing. vi admitting he wasn't right, and he did keep things from zam. zam apologizing and saying he was scared to bring it up last season.

long story short I'm not okay.

[sun-kissy]

🧣 remus lupin + "you fell asleep. it would’ve been cute, if i hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious"! please! 😁

thank you for the request lovely! :)

slumber | r.l.

— “You fell asleep. It would’ve been cute, if I hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious.”

remus lupin x reader

tw: fluff!

Remus can tell that you’re exhausted simply from your voice when you call out to him. It’s full of love, as it always is, just a little dimmer than it was when he kissed you goodbye that morning.

You enter the house and kick off your shoes. Remus meets you in the hallway, tugging your coat off for you before pulling you into his arms. You go easily.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

“Hi,” you mumble, relaxing into him. He splays one hand out between your shoulder blades, the other on the small of your back.

“Long day?”

You make a soft sound halfway between I dunno and mhm. Something in his heart twists when you look up at him, all droopy eyelids and tired smile.

He hums pityingly. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. Remus pecks your forehead before pulling away to take your hands.

“Okay, that’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get some food in you.”

There’s nothing you can do but nod, but that’s enough for him. He all but carries you to the kitchen and hoists you up onto the platform.

He manhandles you in the gentlest way, adjusting your too-tired-to-move body until he was certain your head wasn’t going to hit anything.

“Remember that book fair Sirius invited me to, said it was full of classics and poetry?” he glances at you as he moves away. You nod.

Remus starts to cut up ingredients, goes through the familiar motions of making your favourite soup. He knows you’re not yourself when you’re tired — on a normal day, you’d be chatting his ear off. He’ll talk for you instead.

“… and it turns out he was lying. It was a fucking party, at this huge, loud club. I should’ve known, really, I mean it’s Sirius we’re talking about…” he hopes it’s enough to keep you awake. He isn’t usually one for words, but he’d read novels out loud if it meant you were listening.

Remus continues talking, and you really are trying your best to keep up. But your eyelids feel heavy. So heavy.

Maybe he asks you something, you hear the lilt in his voice at the end of his sentence. You don’t answer, you can’t. Your eyes flutter shut as you’re tugged along by the stream of unconsciousness.

There’s a tingling sensation in your brain, like someone’s pulling your mind out of the depths of sleep. You force your eyes open, squinting as the bright lights of the chandelier in the living room hit your retinas.

“Y/n, sweetheart?”

The vivid light is instantly replaced by your boyfriend’s silhouette as he stands over you. You can’t make out his expression fully, a mix of relief and bemusement and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up, thank god.”

You blink. “What happened?”

Remus gives you a small smile, the skin under his eyes crinkling in slight worry. He helps you up into a sitting position. “You fell asleep. It would’ve been cute, if I hadn’t been so paranoid you were actually unconscious.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “How long was I out for?”

“Three hours.” His expression finally lets up a little, less terse. He sits down next to you, giving you a few giggly kisses before pulling you into his side. “I tried to wake you up more than a few times, dove. But you were out cold. I guess you really were tired, huh?”

“I guess so,” you smile.

“You were,” he grins, rubbing the fat of your arm affectionately. “You were snoring real loud too.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he dots a kiss on your nose, “Whatever rocks your boat.”

san’s christmas sleepover

[orangeblossomsintheair]

DAD SIMON THOUGHTS!!

im also in this fandom now ;>

simon’s fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of the table as you placed your mug down and sat across from him. he avoided your gaze, staring at a spot on the wall instead. his silence was deafening, stretching long enough to make you sigh.

“spit it out, simon,” you said gently, leaning forward.

“there’s nothing to spit out,” he muttered, but his clenched jaw betrayed him.

you tilted your head, watching him with that knowing look that always unnerved him. “you’re acting like the world’s about to end.”

he huffed a humorless laugh. “maybe it is.”

your brows knitted together, but there was no anger, only a concern that made his skin itch. “simon, talk to me.”

he nearly laughed at your face. you made it sound so easy.

how could he put that fear into words, knowing it might hurt you, knowing it might break something in you too?

“i can’t,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not… i don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”

your lips pressed into a thin line as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. “you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared,” he shot back too quickly, tone defensive.

“you’re terrified,” you corrected softly, squeezing his hand. “and that’s okay.”

you tilted your head, trying to catch his eyes. “now, seriously. talk to me.”

he shook his head. “what if I’m not…good enough? what if I fail you? or our baby?”

your hand tightened around his, and you moved closer, your eyes unwavering. “you won’t. because you care too much to fail. and because you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i don’t know how to be…” he trailed off, his voice cracking.

“a father?” you finished for him, your voice warm.

he nodded, staring at your joined hands.

“you’re already doing it,” you said softly. “you’re here, si. that’s what matters most. the rest, we figure out as we go.”

simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he hadn’t said anything for a while now, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. you sat beside him, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his body a coiled spring ready to snap.

“i know you don’t believe me,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “no matter what I say, you’ve got it in your head that you’re not good enough.”

he didn’t respond, but his hands flexed slightly, like he was gripping onto some invisible weight he just couldn’t drop.

you exhaled, leaning closer, voice steady. “simon, I didn’t marry you because I thought you were perfect.”

he looked away, jaw tightening, but you pressed on.

“do you really think i didn’t know what i was getting into? i knew. and i still love you. i’ll always love you.” your hand rested on his, grounding him. “not because you’re perfect but because you show up. because you try, even when you’re scared. because you care, even when it hurts.”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he looked at you, his voice cracking as he whispered, “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“you don’t get to decide that,” you replied, smile soft but firm.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how. “bit bossy, aren’t you?”

you smirked, tilting your head playfully. “someone has to be, with you moping around like this.”

“moping?” his eyebrows lifted, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his tone. “i don’t mope.”

“oh, you do,” you shot back, leaning back slightly but keeping your hands on his. “it’s very broody, very dramatic. could give shakespeare a run for his money.”

a dry laugh rumbled in his chest, and the sound warmed you more than you cared to admit. “didn’t know i married a comedian.”

“well, i didn’t marry a ray of sunshine, so i guess we’re even.” you grinned, poking him lightly in the ribs.

he caught your hand before you could do it again, holding it tightly but not enough to hurt. “careful,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “i’m dangerous, remember?”

your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it. “oh, please. you’re about as dangerous as a kitten when you’re sulking.”

he huffed, shaking his head, but the ghost of a smile finally broke through. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and yet, here we are,” you cooed, leaning closer until your forehead was almost touching his. “you stuck with me, riley. for better or worse.”

he let out a long breath, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “guess i can live with that,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze warm in a way that made your heart ache.

“you better,” you quipped, grin returning full force. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

his lips finally curved into a small, genuine smile. “good,” he murmured, pulling you closer into his arms. “i’d be lost without you.”

[penkura]

Holly Jolly Christmas

Summary: Your first Christmas with the Heart Pirates leads you out on deck for a few moments alone, only to be joined by your captain making sure you're okay.

Note: Just wanted to write something like this, Reader needing to step away to get their feelings in check and Law being willing to listen. :) Again, SORRY IT'S SO LATE. I went to see Sonic 3 this morning after church and it threw my whole day off. (:

“Oh come on, stay inside with us! It’s chilly out there!”

“I’ll be fine, Ikkaku, I just need some air!”

She rolls her eyes at you but doesn’t fight, instead being pulled away by Shachi for a dance while you laugh and step outside to the deck of the Polar Tang, taking a breath and feeling at ease. The holiday party your crewmates were throwing was starting to overwhelm you, a small break is all you need, some fresh air and the chance to collect yourself. It’s still hard to believe this is your life sometimes, that you’re a member of this crew and have friends that care about you, including a captain that wants you to stay safe. People who like and want you around, it’s so different from before.

Your first year with the Heart Pirates was coming to an end, right at Christmas time too. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think a pirate captain would request you to join them after seeing you protect yourself from some robbers on your home island, you just wanted to be able to eat that night and keep your hard-earned money from them. Apparently it was enough that day to convince Law you would be a good addition to his crew, for some reason you felt like you couldn’t say no even though he didn’t scare you or anything. It felt like something told you that day to go, not like you had anyone to return to at home anyway. Most people on your home island tolerates you enough to pay you for small jobs, but no one cared when you left, you’re sure of that.

It didn’t matter though, once you were introduced to everyone, they all took a quick liking to you and showed you the ropes, taught you how the ship worked and everything you’d need to know for life as a Heart Pirate. You learned everything as quickly as you could, you didn’t want to be seen and burden or dead weight on the crew, and not one of your new friends thought that about you, they all gave Law good reports when they’d help you with anything.

You’re grateful for everything that’s happened the last year, watching your crewmates have fun tonight and enjoy themselves. It’s really like having a family again.

“There a reason you’re out here alone?”

Hearing Law’s voice just makes you smile at him over your shoulder, before he joins you leaning against the railing. Of course he’d find you, he’s very good at that lately. Sometimes it feels like he's actively seeking you out, though that could just be wishful thinking.

“I just needed some air, captain.”

“You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, I’ve told you that,” Law rolls his eyes while you giggle at him, “Doing okay?”

You nod with a small hum, you know he won’t press too hard to find out what’s going on, he already knows everything about you. Law never pushed but always listened when you wanted to talk about your previous life, when he noticed you weren’t doing well one day and it ended in you sobbing in his arms for hours about your lost family. He was awkward about it but didn’t make you leave until you were calm again, it made him realize there was more that you hadn’t told him at that point.

You two were more alike than Law ever expected when he brought you on.

“I need to thank you, Law,” he looks over to you with furrowed brows, but you’re not even looking at him, “If you all hadn’t shown up last year, I probably—”

“Enough, you don’t have to thank me again.”

You laugh with a nod as Law rolls his eyes once again, before you reach over and hug him. It’s taken some time but you’ve gotten Law used to these random hugs, he’s even started returning them like he does now.

“Still though, I’m grateful…getting to know all of you and feel like I belong somewhere again…thank you for saving me, captain.”

“…we’re all glad to have you here.”

You both stay like that for a while, even though it’s cold out and you know Law will want you inside shortly to get warm again.  But these moments with just the two of you are rare, some people would question your relationship if it’s just captain and subordinate or something else there, but you’re happy with where the two of you are.

“All right, you lovebirds, everyone’s waiting for you to do Secret Santa already!”

The two of you almost up away from each other, Law giving Penguin a glare while you look away, your older crewmate having a smirk on his face.

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. But really, come on! Everyone wants to open gifts!”

“Fine,” Law sighs, waving Penguin and keeping a hand on your shoulder, “We’ll be there in a moment.”

“Sure thing, cap!”

Penguin runs off to get everyone ready, leaving you and Law alone against. He’s obviously annoyed but it makes you smile anyway. It might be more than either of you are ready for, but you grab his hand and starts walking back into the Polar Tang.

“Better not keep everyone waiting, right, Law?”

“Yeah…guess so…”

You’ll tease him about the light blush on his face later, but tonight, you’ll keep the smile he gives you later on to yourself, and the fact you were his Secret Santa will be your personal secret until Law questions you about it.

You’re the only one who could’ve given him those coins from your home island anyway.

[rhiannonsknife]

While rewatching yj i was thinking about what if Jackie became our friend while being stuck in wilderness.

She never talked to us before, maybe just a few times in practice or in class. But she literally has no one out there since everyone has turned their backs on her. So what if we start talking to her, make her do some chores to make her fit in and standing up for her when someone bashes her. And then you guys make fun of whatever cult-related thing that’s going on.

I feel like Jackie would cherish that and she really just needs someone to be girling with out there cuz she’s all lonely and i wanna hug her soo bad.

this reminds me of how no one came out to comfort jackie after her fight with shauna :((( guys i would’ve been out there instantly!!

jackie slams the cabin door behind her as she storms out into the cold, the sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet room. inside, the tension is palpable: shauna standing stiff, everyone else awkwardly pretending they’re not watching. no one says a word. no one goes after her.

no one except for you. the moment she disappears into the dark, you’re already grabbing your jacket.

you’ve been watching jackie unravel for weeks, her usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the wilderness, the isolation, and now the fight with shauna. the final straw in a series of events that broke her slowly.

jackie’s not perfect, far from it. but is anyone out here? besides, she’s been your friend, or as close to a friend as anyone can have in this hellscape.

you’ve seen how everyone’s turned on her, how she struggled to keep up and you’re not about to let her do it alone.

"where are you going?” shauna asks sharply as you put your jacket on.

“to get her,” you say simply.

“she’ll come back,” someone mutters. you don’t even bother turning to see who.

“yeah?” you snap, halfway out the door. “and what if she doesn’t?”

the cold hits you like a slap as you step outside and move toward where you think she’s gone, calling her name.

“jackie! jackie, come on, it’s freezing out here!”

at first, there’s no answer, just the wind howling through the trees around. there’s no snow yet, but judging by the constantly dropping temperature, there will be soon. you keep going, your breath puffing out in visible clouds as you search. when you finally spot jackie, it’s by a log at the edge of the clearing. her arms are wrapped around her knees, her head bowed, and she’s shivering violently already. she doesn’t look up until you’re right in front of her.

“what are you doing here?”

“looking for you,” you reply, crouching down beside her. “what the hell are you thinking, sitting out here? it’s freezing”

“go back inside,” jackie says, brushing hair from her face. “i’m fine”

“you’re not fine,” you counter. “jackie, you’ll freeze to death out here. come back inside!”

her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her breath hitching. “why do you care? clearly the others don’t”

“that’s not true, they’re just-” you pause, trying to find the right words. “it’s not you they’re mad at, not really. it’s this…place. what it’s doing to us!”

jackie lets out a bitter laugh. “that’s not how it feels”

you don’t know what to say to that, so instead, you shift closer, wrapping your arm around her shoulders. she tenses but doesn’t pull away.

“i care,” you say quietly. “and i’m not gonna let you freeze out here just because things are hard”

she turns to look at you then, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed from the cold. finally, she swallows hard. “i don’t want to go back in there. i can’t”

“yes, you can,” you tell her firmly, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “i’ll be right there with you, okay? if anyone says anything, i’ll handle it. you don’t have to do this alone!”

jackie hesitates, but when another gust of wind sweeps through, she shivers and nods. you stand first, holding out your hand.

“come on,” you say, your tone soft but insistent. she stares at your hand before taking it, her grip surprisingly tight as you help her to her feet. you keep your arm around her as you guide her back toward the cabin, the warmth of your body pressed against hers.

when you open the cabin door, the room instantly falls silent. all eyes are on jackie as she steps inside, her chin lifted just slightly, trying to hold on to whatever pride she has left.

you don’t leave her side.

[peppermintquartz]

Rocker's team has gone home and 60-squad is out, so there aren't many people at HQ. Rocker should have gone home too, but he is instead gloving up. Deacon waits at the heavy bag for him.

When Rocker finally gets to the bag, his face is closed off and his eyes stormy. Neither of them say anything; Deacon braces the bag and Rocker starts jabbing and punching, really laying into it.

He hits and he hits and he hits and he hits, and Deacon takes the muffled impact of the punches. Rocker keeps going, sweat pouring from his brow, and he suddenly roars and punches so hard that Deacon staggers back and the entire bag sways dangerously.

Arms hanging limply from his sides, Rocker is taking deep, heaving breaths, and the moment his gaze meets Deacon's, the older man quickly gets to Rocker and wraps his arms around him before they both sink to the floor.

Rocker is crying now, silent and gasping sobs, his entire body shaking from the emotional turmoil. He presses his face into Deacon's neck. Deacon cradles Rocker's sweaty head, fingers rubbing circles at the base of his skull, and his other hand pats him between his shoulders.

A couple of newer officers take one look at the scene when they turn the corner and raise their brows. Deacon glares at them and they immediately backtrack, choosing to detour. Then Luca comes into view, slapping a folder against his thigh. He cocks his head and points to himself and then to Rocker.

Deacon nods before whispering to Rocker, "It's Luca. It's just Luca."

Rocker's crying doesn't subside fully, but he murmurs, "Okay."

Luca joins them, squatting down behind Rocker to pet his head and help him remove the gloves. Neither Luca nor Deacon say anything when Rocker reaches around Deacon to hug him back.

It takes about ten minutes before Rocker regains enough composure to let go of Deacon. Luca helps him to his feet.

"Thanks," Rocker says thickly to them both.

"No need. It was a rough day for your team," Deacon replies. "And you got the bastards."

"If Stevens hadn't been there, I don't know what I'd have done," Rocker confesses quietly. His eyes close again and his jaw tenses. "They were so little. Barely more than babies."

Being SWAT means sometimes seeing the worst of humanity. All three of them know this fact too well, but sometimes nothing can prepare a person for the depths of depravity some people can sink to.

Luca embraces Rocker tightly. "Take a couple days off. I'll pop by with some lunch from the truck, my treat."

Rocker sniffs. "Thanks. I'll be here, actually, finishing up the paperwork." He smiles as Luca lets go. "I still want that free lunch though."

"You'll get it, pretty boy." Punching Rocker lightly on his shoulder, Luca tilts his head and studies them both. Deacon feels like Luca is looking right into his soul. Then Luca shrugs and picks up the folder he set on the boxing ring. "Deac, come on. I need some help with these."

"You sure you're okay?" Deacon asks Rocker, unable to hide his concern.

Rocker manages a small smile. "I'll be fine. Do your job, Deacon."

As they walk away, leaving Rocker to put away his gear, Luca says quietly, "Is there something there I'm not supposed to see?"

Sometimes Deacon wishes Luca is less perceptive. "I don't know what you mean."

"Deacon." Luca pauses, halfway up the stairs. He looks at Deacon and Deacon meets his scrutiny, lets his defenses fall away. Maybe there is something in his expression that tells Luca exactly what he wants to see. Luca exhales and shakes his head. "I'm telling you, Deac. It's not worth it."

"I still don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do, and I'm gonna stop talking about it." He hands his folder over to Deacon. "Help me narrow down the list of recruits."

[susiekern]

7. the one with a challenge

a/n: I've been fighting with tumblr for TWO DAMN DAYS to post it, so I really hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, suggestive ig

word count: 1.227

lyrics from: The Apparition & Jaws - Sleep Token

masterlist

“No way.”

“Way.”

The face that Megumi makes rips a laugh from you. It was your classic evening meeting, but since the weather was tragic for the past few days, you’ve ditched the rooftop, settling in your room instead. Lying on your bed with a couple of snacks and a respectful distance between you, you’ve spent the last hour catching up. With how busy Megumi was in the past few weeks, your talks were usually short, and there were fewer of them. Somehow you only now told him about the DM from Zenin, but the amount of strength it took not to scream about it as soon as he stepped into your apartment? You deserve a medal.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘be kind to your lamest fan’ charity event. You know, like make a wish.” He says, and you flip him off.

“Maybe I’m just cool as fuck and someone finally appreciates that?” You counter.

“Nah, I’d bet on the charity.” Fushiguro laughs a little when you groan and shove a pillow towards him. For a moment you close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, something you lacked in the past days. Working on a new collaboration, streaming, and maintaining your life at the same time was a bit tiring and mostly overwhelming. That’s why you appreciate the calm evening more than usual. You and Megumi talking about the events of this week, the room illuminated just by the fairy lights, music playing in the background from your PC… it’s nice and relaxing. Very much needed for probably both of you. Mr. Guitarist was close to being done with recording the songs for his job, so he stopped spending almost every waking hour of the day in the studio. You can clearly see that he’s tired, but when you commented on it, he shrugged and said it was more important for him to create something he’d be proud of than sleep for healthy 8 hours.

“What’s with the aggression?” Sudden question silences the thoughts in your head, but you keep your eyes closed still.

“What do you mean, aggression?”

“That’s the fourth time you hit me with a pillow. I got two kicks to my shins and a mean fist in the arm.” He counts all of your attacks, and you peer at him.

“I’ll never believe that this fist hurt you in the slightest. For someone who barely eats and locks himself in the studio, your biceps are crazy. But okay, I suppose I’m a bit more aggressive than usual.” Megumi looks shocked, although you’re not sure if that’s because of your aggression or how easily you’ve admitted it. “It’s been a busy week, and I have a bit too much energy. And I haven’t gotten my normal dose of annoying you and Yuji.”

“Damn, first of all, I still train even when I’m working, thank you very much. And second... I don’t even know how to comment on that. You should just punch Yuji, not someone who spends time with you, and bring snacks.” With that statement, he lies back, with his arms behind his head. It’s not weird that you looked at his flexed muscles and a sliver of abs revealed by his shirt rolling up, right? God, this man is fine. Does he have to be so fine?

“Yuji just whines when I do that, though. You flex. Easy choice.” You sigh and close your eyes again, pretending like it was just a normal thing. Yes, you both sometimes threw a flirty comment here and there, never directly referring to your night together, but it was a little different.

When you were on the rooftop, it gave you the freedom of saying shit in an open space. Here, in your room, you are almost painfully aware of how close he is lying. You can feel the heat from his body and smell his perfume. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing things to you. But Megumi is no better. You’ve noticed how he eyed you up after coming, taking in your shorts, simple t-shirt, and messy hair. Or how his eyes lingered on your face for a little longer than they should.

“So, you like what you see, huh?” He turns on his side, leaning his head on one hand, his elbow keeping him up. If your eyes were open, you would see how his own trace your body, ending their path on your lips. He just needs to lean forward a little… “That makes sense, I’m the hot neighbor after all.”

“Huh?” That brings you to open your eyes and look at him with shock. Only now do you realize that the snack barrier between you two did close to nothing, given how close his face is to yours. And you do not miss how his gaze moves from your lips, but after another second or two. It’s a dangerous game, but neither of you seemed to care.

“I’ve seen your stream. Well, a part of it. How did you put it? ‘I can’t say he’s bad-looking." You’re blushing at this point. You had no idea he watched any of it, especially since he saw how you answered a question about him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I was just entertaining the chat.” He smirks, knowing very well that’s a lie, and leans a little closer. Your heart seems to be beating to the rhythm of the Fallen song that’s playing in the background, your eyes peeking at his lips on their own.

‘And I'm not here to be

The saviour you long for’

“Sure.” His voice goes down to a whisper. The seconds go by, and you seem to be frozen, both calculating how bad it would be to take the next step.

“Megumi…” You’re whispering too, hypnotized by how intense his gaze is. You want to tell him you shouldn’t. You really do. But the amount of time you’ve spent thinking about him, about his kisses and touch, keeps you from doing it. Would it really be that bad? Doing this one more time?

“Tell me you don’t want it.” There’s a hint of a challenge in how he says it. And since when are you one to hide from a challenge?

You’re the one to kiss him first this time. His reaction is immediate; the hand that was lying on the mattress cups your cheek as Megumi tastes your lips, and you need to hold back a moan. How much you’ve missed that feeling. His touch is gentle, yet reassuring, when he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. He moves to hover over your body, holding his weight on one arm.

‘Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops’

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you stepped on that damn roof.” Whispering, he lowers his lips down to your jaw and neck, and your hands now move to his sides and back.

“You should’ve.” You whisper back. You don’t need to see his face to know he has that irritating smirk on, you can feel it on your skin. His hands make their way under your shirt, and he pulls himself from kissing your neck to look in your eyes. “Just one more time?”

“One more time.”

‘Show me what wounds you've got

Show me love’

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115

[koalapastries-writes]

okay which drivers do you think would want to come out as a couple and which ones would you have to ask to come out as a couple?

also congrats on 250!!! so proud of you ❤️

thank you milo <3333

this one's interesting because i could kinda see a lot of them in either category but here's my current thoughts:

warnings: suggestive content (lando, kimi a, rbr + ferrari!seb), mentions of affectionate bullying (lando), mentions of having kids (am + retired!seb, kimi r), mentions of marriage (am + retired!seb, jenson), mentions of joke flirting with someone else (ollie), mentions of violence (logan), mild angst (kimi a, logan), autistic!oscar bc i said so

asks you to go public:

alex albon:

something you will notice about when i write alex is that he is just a goofy guy

like he'd ask to go public but only because he's either a) already accidentally revealed the relationship or b) wanting to post goofy boyfriend photos of you

if it's the first one he's got a back-up "i'm sorry" gift in case you're not exactly ready

if it's the second one he's already got a post drafted and you better believe he will post it the SECOND he gets approval

he's silly and bad at keeping it a secret but he'll try his best for you

franco colapinto:

yappatron 6000

he's probably already told the whole grid and every mechanic who would listen to him for more than five seconds

knows it's only a matter of time before he starts talking about you in interviews

definitely the type to forget that he's famous

his family knows, lewis hamilton congratulated him on being a (sort of) out F1 driver ... everyone else can just find out randomly as far as he's concerned

mick schumacher:

wants to post all the couples pictures he has of you two

how can you possibly say no to this golden retriever?

it's impossible

you hard launch ten minutes later

lando norris:

so i don't usually write for lando but i do sometimes so 🤷‍♂️

would probably ask to go public just to prove that he actually can get a date (he doesn't like to talk about his instagram attempts)

it backfires immediately

now instead of being teased for being single he's being teased for being whipped

tells everyone you asked him to go public and then forgets to turn his mic off while streaming and accidentally reveals that he literally begged you

needless to say, his friends refuse to let him live it down

charles leclerc:

ok listen he's a pretty boy and he wants to be shown off

he wants to follow you around and be your arm candy

will get very very pouty if you hesitate or refuse

he'll understand, but he will be pouty until you either kiss him, cuddle him, or agree to go public

when you're out he's just a happy little bunny wandering around the paddock and abandoning his team responsibilities if he sees you

(ferrari tries to ban you from the paddock, charles cries until they give in)

aston martin + retired era sebastian vettel:

if he can't win races he wants to make it VERY clear that all his flirting over the year was just for funsies

like with his whole cool mature twink-death phase, he brings up the idea of settling down

you're not impressed

"sebastian we have three kids. if you still think this is 'casual' i don't know what to tell you."

... he does sleep on the couch for a couple nights

eventually he will convince you tho and you'll go to your first race with the whole paddock knowing you're his husband and not just his Really Close Friend Who He Happened To Touch A Lot.

ollie bearman:

i know this is kinda contradictory to the crossdressing post but i think ollie would bring up coming out before you?

like, prema knows, haas knows, ferrari knows, his family knows ... he knows he's pretty secure

does joke about bearnelli with you

which results in you (jokingly) flirting with dino or arthur and a very whiny baby bear

probably wouldn't want to do it until after / part way through his rookie season

just so he's a little more settled yk?

you ask to go public:

jenson button:

this one might be a lil controversial

i think jenson would actually to prefer to stay private for longer?

like, he won't tell anyone when you're dating

but the second you're married he's like

EVERYONE LOOK AT MY HUSBAND HE'S SO HOT

sky tries to reprimand him and jenson shows up to the next race with one of those "i ❤️ my husband" t-shirts and rainbow trousers

he looks like a dork but it's okay because he's cute

kimi antonelli:

absolutely adores you and talks about you at prema all the time

talks about you at mercedes all the time

george already knows your shoe size (among other things)

but the idea of going public and everyone knowing he has a boyfriend? absolutely terrifying

he kinda just posts the same sorts of things he posts with ollie and hopes everyone will assume you're just a friend

you're fine with it, because you know you're always the one he runs to for celebratory kisses after a win :)

kimi raikkonen:

shouldn't be surprising

he's not actively hiding you or actively trying to tell people

he just ... doesn't really talk about his personal life?

some of the drivers know, some don't

he's 100% been wearing a wedding/promise/whatever ring for years and nobody notices

there's a chance nobody knows he's ever dated anyone until your kid starts karting and he posts a video of the kid everyone thought was just his calling you dad and the internet explodes

lance stroll:

would rather die than have journalists asking you invasive questions

everyone knows he's dating someone but nobody knows who

lawsuits + bribes to any tabloids who get photos of you

insists on getting you a bodyguard if you ever come out

you try to get his dad to reason with him

lawrence thinks lance could be worse

overall, billionaire boyfriend just wants to cuddle at home and will do anything to protect that

10/10 very cute and whiny when he realises that means you can't go with him to Official F1 Business™ things

logan sargeant:

might've been half-out in the junior formulae?

like kind of an open secret in the paddock but he doesn't post about it

then he gets promoted to f1

at first he's super excited because he knows you get along really well with lily (alex's gf) and with all the talk of williams being a family, hopes you'll get to do normal wag/hab stuff with her

then things go downhill

logan absolutely refuses to let you anywhere near williams

half out of fear that somebody would say something rude to you

half out of fear that you'd light v*wles on fire if you got close enough

oscar piastri:

this man is Oblivious with a capital "O"

he tries his best really but he just. doesn't pick up on cues like that.

(yes this is me pushing my autistic!oscar agenda idc i'm autistic i'm allowed to say it)

has a massive folder of cute photos that either include you or remind him of you

it takes up about a quarter of his phone's storage

he refuses to delete any of them

still keeps it pretty private if you do ask to go public

he likes that he can just be oscar with you

he doesn't want the media taking that away from him

will only delete some of his photos when they're copied onto two separate usb's that are both in fireproof safes (one in his apartment in monaco, one in his childhood home in melbourne)

rbr + ferrari era sebastian vettel:

i recently saw this era described as feral twink energy and. yeah.

he's flirting with anything in the paddock that has a pulse

fans? yes.

journalists? yes.

drivers? yes.

team members? yes.

fia officials? yes.

EVERYBODY

eventually you'll ask if he could just please mention that he is, in fact, taken and (here's where it depends on if you're dom/sub) either make you beg or push you to the point of fucking it out of him

if anyone saw one of you limping in the paddock one day?

no they didn't.

this was fun, i definitely enjoy going deeper into what i think the drivers would be like in relationships :D

[midnightwind]

Summary: A summons home with an air of unease. Viago's talks are always a unique agony as a de Riva.

Warnings: if you aren't okay with stabbing, violence, and poisoning, pass this by

Word count: 2367

~◇~

Renn

Return to the Nest. No eyes.

Viago

She creased the corner of the short letter on loop, folding and unfolding it, brows furrowed. It had been a very long time since Viago had summoned her like this. Granted, usually she was just a room away and he could send a servant or come himself when she was needed. Being barred from bringing anyone likely meant it was de Riva business. No eyes meant no watchers, no one waiting, no one knowing. Did he have a lead on the traitors? Were they within her own House or was this a precaution because the Diamond was compromised? Given the state of Treviso and the country at large, the chance of it being a large contract felt slim. She was already on a job, anyways, he wouldn’t burden her with a second like that.

A heavy sigh slipped free and she chewed her lip. Telling no one she was leaving felt like a terrible idea. What if the gods made a move while she was gone? If the group needed the lyrium dagger and she wasn’t there… She ran a hand through her hair almost frantically, squeezing her eyes shut as she warred with herself. She could tell Lucanis, he was a Crow, he would keep the secret. He would respect the rules. But she had already broken the rules once for him and doing it a second time caused an ugly feeling to curl in her stomach, all sharp edges and claws. She had kept quiet about Spite out of shared sympathy. This was House business and he wasn’t a de Riva. Her hand snatched a sheet of paper she kept for letters, penning a quick note.

Personal errand, will be back soon! Keep this safe in the meantime.

-R

Vague enough, left out on her table in the open, and with the ringed hilt of the lyrium dagger left atop meant it was impossible to miss. She hoped. By the time they started looking for her, she’d be back, surely. Now she just had to sneak into the Eluvian room and make it to Treviso without incident. About a fifty-fifty chance on the Crossroads having hulking brutes rampaging through the market when she passed through. The Maker had gifted her quite the lucky streak, afterall. She changed into her usual leathers, unease settling over her like a second skin. She hadn’t really been out alone in a long time. After Viago had sent her away, she always had Varric or Harding. Then it was always some variation of company from the ragtag team she had assembled. It almost felt wrong not having someone following along behind her.

Shaking herself once, she crept silently from her chambers. No one was lingering on the balcony for a blessing, but she forwent the stairs, opting instead to lower herself directly from the upper platform to the steps below. There was a quiet scuff as she landed and she held her breath, ears straining. If someone had been in the main room, they could have heard it. Pressed into the shadows and taking quick steps, she didn’t wait to see if someone was coming to investigate. The Eluvian room felt emptier, more intimidating alone. A tall monolith looming over her. She swallowed that fear and passed through. It was a quiet walk to the Treviso mirror, the Caretaker not making a comment on her lack of escort. It made her wonder if Solas wandered off like this, too, during the rebellion. It had her stomach doing a sickening flip.

She pulled her hood low to her eyes as she passed through the mirror, just another Crow in the gathered masses at the Diamond. Taking to the rooftops, she arrived at the de Riva apartments shortly after her feet touched Trevisan brickwork. The window to Viago’s office was ajar, inviting, and that made her frown. It was meant for her, that much was obvious based on the letter, but that unease lingered. Dark curtains were drawn over the egress, sending up a cloud of dust as she swung inside. Muffled coughs announced her presence to the Talon long before she stepped in front of his desk. His eyes were fixed on bundles of what she assumed were contracts, neat piles of information and receipts organized on the tabletop. He didn’t look up.

“Clumsy entrance.”

She half shrugged. “Haven’t had to sneak through a window in a while.”

A disapproving scoff was her only answer before he waved a hand towards the window. “Close it.”

Mutely she obeyed, a finality to the action as the wood thudded into place.

“Have you been keeping up with your daily doses?” He shuffled the page he had been reading to the back of the pile in front of him.

“Uh,”  she started awkwardly, blindsided by the direction of the conversation, “more or less. Some concoctions are hard to find while on the move like I was. I’ve had to take smaller doses of the rarer brews since returning. But… you didn’t have me come here in pure secrecy to ask about my poison habits, right?” A weak half smile jumped to her lips.

“A simple wonder.” He placed a palm flat over the stack of papers he had been reading, finally looking up. “One of many. Mirenna, am I a mark to you?”

The question had been uttered with a frigid edge that had every alarm bell in her mind screeching. It was the sharp danger she remembered from their early days together, the voice he had used in their training when she was too weak to pass a test. It was a knife to the heart and she felt a cold sweat coming on.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t play coy with me, child.” His voice was a whip, stealing her breath.

She swallowed thickly. “Vi, I really don’t know…” She felt lightheaded, hand clenching and unclenching next to her mageknife. Her heart was hammering against her ribs so hard she felt it would leave bruises.

He rose to his feet with a serpentine grace, slow and fluid. Dangerous. “Lucanis Dellamorte.” She felt ice in her veins as he took measured steps around the desk. “Imprisoned for a year by Zara Renata, known blood mage and Venatori leader. The Ossuary was her personal laboratory. Notes and remains recovered speak of experiments to foster demonic possessions to create more powerful abominations.” He circled her slowly, coming to a stop mere inches from her face. “But you knew that already.”

Not a question, stating the obvious. Her knees felt weak. “I…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I wanted to be sure first. After my last job, I didn’t want to waste your time-”

“No.” He cut her off sharply, his voice quivering with rage. “You wanted to protect him. Be it because you fancied him, felt sorry for him, or have proper malice for this House, I don’t know. But you lied to me, Mirenna. To me.”

If she hadn’t spent most of her life learning to fight by his hand, been taught each strike and cut of a knife under his instruction, she wouldn’t have been fast enough to deflect his blade. She had to catch his offhand with her own hand, flesh meeting blade. He hadn’t given her enough time to summon her orb. Her backstep was cut short, years of training her giving him every tell and shortcoming she had as he hooked a leg behind hers and pulled. She tried to turn the fall, to twist in the air, but he snatched the front of her leathers in a fist, pushing her forcefully into the floor. He had a knife to her throat, knee pinning her chest, and his face a cold mask of indifference. She whimpered.

“Was this a solitary betrayal or have you been working against the House this entire time?” The words were calculated, all emotion drained from them.

A wheezing breath slipped free. “Viago, I didn’t mean-”

“Are you working alone against this House?” The knife bit deep enough to draw blood.

She could feel tears stinging her eyes, her heart breaking. Her voice was a hoarse whisper, wavering. “I am not a traitor.”

There was no warning of the strike. The dagger was pressed to her neck one second and then buried deep in her shoulder in the next. Her training allowed only a quiet choking noise in place of a scream, the pain white hot and blinding. Unbidden, her body reached for the Fade in self defense. She wanted to shout a warning to him as the familiar connection was made, unable to stop the electric swell of her magic, but there was an agonizing twist in her lungs instead. The magic was a screaming fury in her veins, molten fire replacing her blood. He almost had a look of pity in his eyes as she writhed.

“A clean entrance would have spared you that torture.” For a moment, he was simply her teacher again, no malice or disappointment in the words. Simple fact to teach a lesson.

She wanted to laugh. That hadn’t been dust. Viago would never have his home be that unkempt, she should have known better. Instead a choking wheeze slipped free, a smile that was more bared teeth than mirth on her lips. It all hurt.

“Did Dellamorte put you up to this?” He slipped so easily back into interrogating her.

“No,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears slipping free, “I was scared.”

The pressure on her shoulder lightened slightly. “That’s not enough, Mirenna.”

She struggled for a moment to pull in enough air to speak. He simply waited. “Wouldn’t have been fair.” Shallow breaths wheezed out the words. “His secret.”

“Is your loyalty to House Dellamorte or House de Riva?” He was leaning on the dagger once more and this time it dragged a low keening from her.

“To you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Still not enough.”

“Didn’t want to tell you.” Her teeth were grit as if she could cage the confession behind them. “Solas used blood magic. He’s in my dreams. Felt too similar.”

Through the haze of agony, she caught the brief flash of horror across his face. His weight disappeared and she pulled in a shivering breath. It left her in a painful fit of coughing, but she didn’t move otherwise. He paced twice from her to the desk and back. A manic energy seemed to hum in his veins. Distantly she could hear the sound of crumpling paper as he clawed hands onto the desk.

“I’m taking you off the contract.”

“Too late, Vi.” She was trying to smile again, a twisted facsimile. “No one else can do this. Too deep.”

“I am your Talon.” Swift and sharp, like a crack of thunder. “You work the contracts I say. You walk away when I say.”

Her head lolled slightly to the side. “Can’t put Solas in anyone else’s mind. That’s beyond you. Crossroads won’t know your next agent. Team won’t trust them. You’d doom the world.”

Something crashed to the floor, glass breaking. “Damn it, Renn, I sent you away to keep you out of trouble.”

“Trouble finds me.” She whispered.

A long silence stretched between them, the only sound her labored breaths. Faintly she could hear a drawer being opened, bottles being shuffled as he rummaged inside it. When he loomed over her suddenly she tried to smile. He dumped a vial into her mouth as her reward. Part of her wondered if he was simply done with her, the final draught he would gift. She swallowed it anyway. He was gone in the next breath and she simply laid on the floor waiting to see if death came to visit. The agony in her veins slowly burned away, leaving her with the throb of the knife in her shoulder. Slowly, achingly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her leg felt bruised from his strike, throat stinging from the knife, shoulder agony, body aching from the poison, hand screaming. But she was alive.

He was sitting at his desk again, his head resting in one hand as he poured over his paperwork. “Get out.”

She lingered on the floor, letting the pain settle into her bones, until he looked up just enough for her to see his eyes. They were sharp, furious, but in the depths, buried deep, there was guilt. He blamed himself for giving her the job, didn’t he? Her laugh was a wheezing bark, tears streaming down her cheeks before she could stop them. It was never supposed to be this messy, but wasn’t that the story of all her jobs? Swaying to her feet, she dragged herself to his desk. Wrapping a hand around the hilt of his dagger, she pulled it out steadily and deposited it on the nearest stack of papers. Ruby red blood spread like greedy fire across the parchment. With a half bow, she saw herself out through the door.

A trail of blood followed her through the apartments and out into the streets. There was a ground entrance she could use in the Diamond, a long climb along stairs back to the mirror, but it would be easier than the ziplines and trellises. She was maybe halfway back when a familiar shadow dropped from the rooftops next to her. She gave him a bright smile as he pulled his hood down.

“Oh, I think I know you.” She swayed on her feet as Lucanis braced her with a hand on her good shoulder.

“Rook, what happened? We’ve been tearing the Lighthouse apart trying to find you.” His concern was almost absent as he pulled at her leathers to examine her wound. He sucked air through his teeth. “Mierda, that’s deep.”

“Hmm, Viago doesn’t hold back.” She could feel a sob trying to claw up her throat. “He found out I lied.”

His face fell into a grim understanding. He ducked under her good arm, wrapping the other around her waist. “Let’s get you home.”

A wheezing laugh shook her shoulders as she leaned heavily against him. “I’d settle for the Lighthouse instead, I think.”

[ray935sworld]

A cozy evening, wine and a kiss

rosquez reconsilation fluff

21.12 winter writing

Vale knew he had been lucky in life.

He had managed to get a the top of his beloved sport for years. He had carved his name in the history books, never to be forgotten. He had gone done as a legend.

Most of it was hard work. Some of it was a coincidence and a good chunk was just an insane amount of luck. He had been at the right time at the right place to say the right thing.

But no amount of luck could explain how he ended up here.

He was sat in his own living room, a big house, in Italy. Still it was cozy and soft.

It was a calm winter evening. Christmas was almost there. He would soon dive back into the Christmas hazzle of preparation. It was cold enough that he refused to go outside if it could be avoided.

But right now there was no cold. And it wasn't just the fire that was crackling in the background of the barely lit room. The flames were dancing in a secret rhythm. He could see the flickering but he didn't care.

Instead he was too focused on the reason why there was a warmth in his heart and his whole body. It felt like his organs had been wrapped in the softest blanket imagineable. It was a feeling he was willing to chase for the rest of his life.

He looked at him - the reason. The reason for everything. The reason for his happiness, his insanity, his sadness, his hate, his love, his luck, his believe in love and a god and everything good.

Marc.

Not Marquez. Not the ant. Not a racer.

Just Marc.

And he wanted to do anything to make Marc his Marc again. He wanted to be greedy and just take. He wanted to take until there was nothing left to grip.

But he didn't want that. It felt too forcefully, too much anger, too much of the things he banned to the past. He didn't want to prove anything.

He wanted to give in. He wanted to lean in his touch and make him take everything he wanted. He was willing to give him anything and more.

He looked at him.

Marc sat next to him, in a chair that had a slight ankle to it so they were slightly facing each other.

His eyes were shining, reflecting the flames of the fire. He was speaking. Something about Shira and Stitch. Vale was too fascinated on his voice to actually hear him say a word.

He was holding a glass of wine in hand. His delicate finger were placed on the glass. His thumb pressed against the curve, his pointy finger softly wrapped against it.

He looked gorgeous.

His other hand was resting on his own thigh. Sometimes he lifted it to underline with words with gestures.

Vale nodded along, agreeing, asking question. He would do anything to keep him talking. He just wanted to keep him here, at his side, as long as possible.

They already had dinner together. Vale had cooked. It was the perfect date. And Marc did notice all the thoughtfull gestures and little thing the older man had remembered to make it as perfect as it had been.

It had been their first date. Not just their first date after everything went down, but their first real date. Vale wanted to do it right this time and it showed.

But now Marc saw Vale's soft gaze slightly unfocused. He looked like he was fixed on him but not in a predatory way. Not like it used to.

He looked at him in a way he had never seen before. Like he was everything. Like he was the sun and the moon and everything else.

He giggled softly at that thought and decided to be brave. He leaned over and whispered. "You're staring Vale"

"I know" he replied. His voice held no emotions other than honesty and love, careful bleeding through, as if he wasn't sure if it was okay. "You are very handsome. The most gorgeous man I've ever seen. How could I not watch your every move?"

"You're being very sweet tonight... I like that" he had been thinking about a more sassy comeback, one that borders on being rude. But he didn't. He didn't want to destroy this moment.

He could test the limit later. In a few weeks or months when they stood more firmly. And he was sure this later would come sooner or later.

"So, sweet Vale... Tell me what you want. What do you wish for?" he asked and leaned in some more. His arms were stabilizing him on his chair. He crossed the short distance between them almost completly.

There were still a few centimeters, but not much.

"I... Nothing. I'm happy to have you here." "I know but I also know that there is something else that you want." he said teasingly, because after all he still knew him.

"Maybe but that doesn't matter now. You're drunk. I'm not-" "You promised me honesty. I'm asking you what you want. Right now. I'm not saying I'm going to give it to you. I'm not drunk, Vale. Slightly typsy at most. So please..."

He put his hand on his face. He felt his cheeks for the first time in years. He felt his stubbles against his hand. He looked at him. He noticed all the signs that time had passed, all the little detail were time carved it away through them.

He looked at him and didn't saw the man that used to hurt him. He saw someone else. Someone he would trust. Someone he could love again.

"Please talk to me, Vale. Talk to me" he said and felt the older man leaning into his touch. "You are so beautiful" he replied. "You already said that." "It's true. You are so beautiful. It drives me crazy. I just want to kiss you again. Just once. But I don't want to rush this. I want to make it right. I want to make up for everything and show you how much you mean to me"

Marc smiled and nodded. He accepted.

"If you're afraid it's to soon for you to kiss me, I'll kiss you" he offered and before he got an answer he leaned in.

He kissed him.

It was one of the few things he did slowly, without going in head first. He was careful, soft, no demand, just looking for how it would go.

And he met Vale as he did. His Vale. The real Vale.

He felt how careful he moved his head to make it easier for him to kiss him. He was making things easier nit harder.

He felt his dry lips against his own and didn't mind. He felt his skin heating up at every movement and just grinned.

He was happy.

He had his Vale back. And Vale had his Marc back.

based on this