#haven fic

[hollandorks]

haven - masterlist

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she's expecting. Childhood friends to lovers & investigative reporter reader!

find it on ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Interlude 1 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Interlude 2 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Interlude 3 Chapter 15

[decadentpaperduck]

"To Friendship" - Duke Crocker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Set early Season 3. Duke manages to identify The Hunter and some complicated feelings. This version of reader is not troubled, and works at The Haven Herald. Words: 1.7k Warnings: Drinking, fluff, angst (?), comfort(?)

A/N: I am trying to just commit to the writing I want to do. This man's story has me in my feelings at the moment so just work with me here. Hope you enjoy!

Duke leans against the balcony railings of Audrey’s apartment above The Grey Gull: coffee cup in his left hand, notes and newspaper clippings in his right. “You couldn’t have written yourself a more specific note?” He exhales, some mixture of a laugh and an expression of frustration, as he places the papers down on the table between you.

You catch his eye and try a smile. He smiles back. He looks tired, though no worse for it. His hair looks longer lately, rougeish. It suits him. 

“Well, it looks like I only had ten seconds to write it.” Audrey sets down her coffee and runs her thumb over the injury on her wrist.

“I gotta tell ya, if I were gonna have to live multiple lives, I would have picked some place more exotic. Warmer climate, Bali, Costa Rica…Hong Kong.”

“How’s that healing?” You ask, noticing Audrey’s distanced gaze.

“It’s fine.” She answers, brushing it off in the way that she always does. “I keep thinking about the man who abducted me.” Something you are all thinking about. “He said I loved the Colorado Kid.” Duke props himself against the balcony fence once more.

“Who was supposedly buried 27 years ago.” He looks out over the water. “But now his grave is empty.” 

Audrey had been a good friend to you since you arrived some months ago, and just as you were finding out new things about her every day, she was too. You couldn’t fathom what that was like - discovering the multiple lives you’d lived…the people you’d loved…all forgotten.

“I think he’s alive and I think he is on the run.” You lean back in the chair and look up at the sky. Audrey was very rarely wrong, but how long did they have to find The Hunter before this conversation became null and void? What happens if The Hunter finds them first? How will you carry on in Haven without her? What would your job at The Herald be like without her? What would Nathan and Duke be like without her?

An abrupt noise brings the conversation to a halt, and everyone to the edge of their seat.

“Are you expecting somebody else?” Duke almost whispers. Audrey shakes her head. 

“Be careful.” You mouth, more than speak. You had experienced more than enough fear for the wellbeing of your friends in the last 48 hours. Duke puts his coffee down next to Audrey’s and takes a screwdriver from his back pocket as he moves towards the side of the building. 

You move to stand, and Duke raises a hand, motioning you to remain where you are whilst he investigates.

You hold your breath, right up until the moment Duke visibly relaxes.

“Good morning Chief.” Duke puts the screwdriver in his pocket and turns back around.

“What are you doing here?” He asks pointedly.

“In case you forgot, Audrey got abducted. So I am changing the locks.”

“You’re changing the locks?” Nathan challenges as Duke walks away, back to the table and chairs. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at what appears to be a chest-beating contest.

“Yes, I am changing the locks but, you know, we got to chatting,” He picks up his coffee once more and raises it to his lips. “...favourite coffees, scented candles. Girl talk.” He smiles as he takes a sip of his drink and you try hard not to laugh at the way he winds him up on purpose.

“You told them everything about The Hunter?” Nathan asks and Audrey nods.

“Yeah, we’re friends, is that a problem?” Duke asks Nathan.

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” He throws his hand in your direction, making Duke look between you both. “Come on, your dad? You ever think you’re the hunter, Duke?” 

“No.” His answer is sharp. “Never.”

“Well. I guess we won’t know until you kill someone.” 

“Hey!” You interject. “Enough.” Nathan seems to snap out of his surge of manliness. “Audrey’s safe. Let’s not start throwing around accusations…in fact preemptive accusations right now.” The boys look at one another, wordlessly calling a truce. “Why don’t we all catch up later? I’ve gotta get to The Herald and you two need to save the world.” You look to Duke. “You’ve got things covered here, yeah?” He nods.

“Yeah.”

And with that, you pick up your satchel by Audrey’s front door and make your way down the stairs towards your car. 

When you return to The Grey Gull later that afternoon, you find yourself entranced by the mingling colours in the sky. So much so that you don’t register who it is bundling a dog into their car. Audrey and Nathan. 

You turn on your heels to try to catch their eye in the rearview, but with no luck. “Huh.” You turn back to the restaurant and take one more look at the scene of serenity before heading in to see Duke behind the bar. “When did Audrey get a dog?” You shrug your bag off your shoulder and hook it on the back of one of the barstools. He doesn’t hear you, or chooses not to, as he buffs out an imaginary mark in the countertop. “I guess stranger things have happened.” You continue, hoping to lure him out of whatever daydream he is stuck in.

His slightly damp hair moves across his furrowed brow as he continues to focus his attention on the bar. The smell of his sea salt and sage shower gel invades your senses and you realise he’s changed his clothes. A vision of cream and white, this cardigan is one of your favourites on him. 

“Will you talk to me already?” This time, he reacts. He discards the cleaning implements and crouches down behind the bar, retrieving two glasses and a bottle of whisky. He remains silent, even as he places them down and pours a single measure in each. When he’s done, he passes one in your direction and keeps the other for himself. “Haven’t I told you before that drink isn’t the answer to everything?” You say, despite taking the glass from him.

“It’s just a toast.” The first words he's spoken since you walked through the door. You watch him as intently as he watches you.

“To?” You finally say.

“Friendship.” You throw him an are-you-kidding look, to which he shrugs, with a hint of a smile.

“You stubborn bastard.” You raise the glass. “To friendship.” He raises his own glass and the two meet in the middle with a high pitched clink. He throws back his drink in one, barely reacting.

“Ugh.” You cringe aloud and shiver at the aftertaste whilst Duke tries to contain a smile. A smile that falls fast as he pours another shot for himself.

“The Hunter is a meteor shower.” He says, before screwing the lid back on the bottle and knocking back the second shot.

“What does that even mean?” He doesn’t answer. “What do we do with that information? I need to speak with her. When did you speak with her? Can’t we do something about it? There has to be a way. In this place your feelings can cause tornadoes and your nightmares can be real, how can we not stop my best friend leaving?” The tears are already falling from your eyes.

“Nothing.” What? “Audrey…wants to do nothing.” 

Duke tells you that the Hunter Meteor shower occurs every twenty seven years, and during that meteor shower, tradition dictates, she must leave. And when she leaves, the troubles go too.

It seems a cruel twist of fate that Audrey would help the troubled in every lifetime, only to be cast out. You wonder if the other versions of Audrey had friends who tried to keep her here. You wonder how close they might have been to succeeding if they had. And yet Audrey wants to do…nothing.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, and he won’t look at you, probably with all the tears and snot down your face. “When Nathan asked you this morning if you thought you might be The Hunter, you said no.”

“I meant what I said. Even if I was meant to be The Hunter, I would never.” He steps out from behind the bar to move as freely as his thoughts. “I told you all, I am not subscribing to this Crocker bullcrap. I’m not doing it.” He stands still. “In a way, I wish I was this Hunter, because I would have some sort of power to stop it. But how the hell are we meant to stop a meteor shower?” He slowly balls his right hand into a fist and presses it against one of the supporting beams of The Gull. “She can’t go now.” He whispers. “She only just got here.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” It’s a surprise that you ask, but no surprise that you wish that you hadn’t. “What?” He turns and drops his hand from the beam. His lips are parted and his eyes squint, you’re not sure if it’s confusion, defence, or perhaps neither.

“I mean, she’s a special person. Even without the whole trouble thing following her around, she’s magnetic. It just would make sense right? Nathan, Chris…you?” He rubs the back of his neck as he looks at you.

“I think she's great, don't get me wrong. But she’s got that whole Nathan thing going on. I’ve got this whole doomed-to-follow-in-my-father’s-footsteps thing. It’s complicated.” Sadness overtakes his face as he studies the ground and steadies his words. “It’s just that she's the only one who can see the good in me: that I'm not some criminal, no-good crook.” 

“Not everyone thinks that, Duke.” As he looks up at you, the sadness still saturates the brown of his eyes. You move toward him. “I-”

“Hey, have either of you guys seen Audrey with an adorable dog following her around?” Doctor Claire Callaghan’s poor timing pierces through the moment. Duke inhales before running his palm down his beard, over his mouth and down his chin.

“I believe he’s called Nathan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate you calling him that.” As usual, Duke Crocker’s innate ability to deflect feelings with humour comes to the rescue.

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to summon the words to recover from the emotional wringing of your insides.

“I am sensing some tens-”

“Claire.” Duke turns his full body and attention to her, clapping his hands together and engaging his boyish charm that people admire so much. “Can I get you something?”

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

Haven Prompts and Oneshots 2 Chapter 6: Crashing the Bronco [Haven 1x2 Butterfly Nathan& Audrey; Nathan/Hannah mentioned] 164 hits; 10 kudos; 364 words (6.11.2023)

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Fic games

I was tagged to post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3, and I'm curious what this will look like, so here we go...

Dean woke up with a groggy head, sore wrists and a complete inability to move. (Exactly Like a Men Of Letters Move, SPN, Rated E)

Dean drove the Impala into his assigned parking space in the massive underground lot. Its familiar growl was cut through with a disquieting rattle that made him frown: the repairs he'd made at the side of a dusty road a few hours before would need some further work before he got back out on the road again. (Bit of Rough, SPN, rated M)

Duke Crocker had never had much of a regular sleep schedule. (Watched His Lovers Sleep, Haven, rated T)

This is a story that differs only a little from the original. Or rather, which differs a lot, but only in one specific way. (A Miracle Powered by Centuries of Troubled Aether, Haven, rated T)

The Troubles set Nathan up to fail, long before he ever heard of a woman called Audrey Parker. They set him up to fail in ways he didn’t even know about; from his own family history to what his father knew was coming, and simply the way the Troubles work. (This is not a fic as such but rather some meta about Haven, rated T)

"Why do I always go for the shy ones?" Something in her voice makes me turn around, and something in the view makes me not want to leave. (Somehow The Same, Haven. I've just been working on the next chapter for this! Currently rated T, though that might change.)

For lack of anything better to do one afternoon, Duke and Nathan sat on a rock at the edge of the beach, drawing pictures in the sand with sticks. “It’s going to be 1990 soon,” Duke said out of nowhere. “And then it’ll be The Year Two Thousand,” he added. It had an inevitable ominous ring to it. (The Things You've Done, Haven, rated T)

“I'm not saying you need wine, but I'm saying it wouldn't be a bad idea,” Jess said, amused as she poured him a glass of red. (Sunshine, Haven, rated M)

Dean walked through the library to his room. For once the place was quiet; Sam and Bobby were out on a beer run, Charlie was already asleep, Garth and Kevin would be back tomorrow. There was of course their additional, hopefully temporary, houseguest. But since losing all of his demonic powers Crowley had become surprisingly useful. (Not Entirely By Mistake, SPN, rated E)

Dean pulled the Impala up outside the Roadhouse. “This place is starting to feel like home,” Sam said. (Outside the Roadhouse, SPN, Rated E)

Honorary mention for the last thing I updated; Everyone I know lives here (hoping to update this one soon too): It was one of those rare quiet days in the bunker where there was no imminent apocalypse, no one they knew was in immediate danger, and no obvious case-worthy news stories had presented themselves. The building was relatively full, though even when all of its semi-permanent residents were at home still only a fraction of the bedrooms were occupied. (SPN/Buffy crossover, rated M)

Thanks for the tag @misscrazyfangirl321

Tagging ... anyone who wants to play!

[greenorangevioletgrass]

hey ava! i was just wondering if all of your “haven” series was posted on the series masterlist?

hiya! I haven’t finished it lol, maybe i’ll pick it up again when inspiration hits. thank you for reading this lil fic ✨

[havens-iphone]

── backwards and fowards ꫂৎ ; grumpy!hamzah

summary ⋮ at a party, you meet hamzah—quiet, distant, and seemingly uninterested in you. despite his cold demeanor, you try to interact with him, but he only responds with dry remarks and indifference. after an awkward car ride and a particularly harsh comment at game night, you quietly pull away, convincing yourself he never cared. weeks pass, and while mandy checks in, hamzah doesn’t. but in your absence, he starts to notice—game nights feel dull, the group quieter. he catches himself looking at your photos, missing your presence. then, late one night, your phone buzzes, pulling you from sleep.

wc ⋮ 2.8k

authors note ⋮ okay honestly this SUCKS. came out worse than i expected but oh well💔💔 i got rlly lazy at the end but hopefully part 2 will be better!!

the party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. loud music spilled out into the hallway, accompanied by bursts of laughter and the scent of something that smelled suspiciously like burnt pizza. you took a deep breath and knocked on the door, adjusting your oversized cremé sweater you wore for the cold toronto weather before mandy opened it with a smile.

"there she is!" mandy greeted, pulling you into a warm hug. "you made it! this place is already crazy."

you grinned, your eyes scanning the crowded living room. "you always throw the best parties, mands," you replied, pushing through the door. the apartment was packed with friends, majority of them you didnt know.

your eyes fell on two familiar figures sitting on the couch — martin, who was already in his usual comfy hoodie, and hamzah, who was slouched beside him, eyes half-lidded as he stared at his phone.

you had seen hamzah a few times before, but never met properly. he was always off to the side, scowling in his hoodie like he wanted to be anywhere but here. you didnt blame him, though. some people just werent built for parties.

still, that didnt mean you were going to leave him out of the fun. you bounced over to the couch, grinning like a mischievous cat. "hey, hamzah!" you called brightly, your voice louder than necessary as you plopped down next to him.

he barely glanced up, his fingers still flying over his phone. "your loud," he muttered, not even bothering to look your way.

you laughed, unbothered. "i perfer the term 'energetic'.. and im not that loud. trust me, you'll get used to me."

hamzah shot you a side-eye, barely hiding the annoyance that flickered in his dark eyes. "uh-huh," he grumbled, his tone dry. "maybe you should take it down a notch before your voice annoys the whole building."

you titled your head, unfazed. "ill take that as a challenge."

martin, overhearing the exchange, chuckled from the other side of the couch. "oh no, hamzah, you've awakened the beast."

you gave him a dramatic wink. "you know me too well, martin."

hamzah's lips twitched in something that couls've been a smile, but he quickly masked it. "great, now im really looking foward to this."

you leaned back into the couch, nudging him with your shoulder, though her clearly wasnt interested in your attention. but you didnt mind — you were used to it. it was a game, really. hamzah was like a stone, cold and unyielding, but you knew better than to think he didnt have a soft spot under all that sarcasm.

"im here for the snacks, by the way," you added, not missing a beat. "dont judge me."

hamzahs gaze finally flickered to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "if i judged you for that, i'd have to judge myself too."

you grinned. "see? were already bonding."

martin rolled his eyes, "oh please, you two are like oil and water."

you just shrugged, your smile wide as ever as you think of a cringy comeback, "oil and water make a beautiful mess, dont you think?"

hamzah didnt respond, but the faintest smirk lingered on his face. it wasnt much — but for a guy like hamzah, it was more than enough.

the night carried on, and you found yourself drawn back to the couch time and time again, sneaking glances at hamzah as be tried — and failed — to hide his amused smirk whenever you pulled another ridiculous stunt. but you could tell he wasnt completely unfazed. he was.. intrigued, and that was more than enough to keep you going.

the end of the night came, slowly, but it came. mandy and martins friends started leaving one by one until it was just mandy, martin, hamzah, and you. hamzah and martin were left talking in the kitchen as you helped mandy clean up, even though you werent asked.

you gazed over at hamzah in the kitchen. his eyes caught yours while martin was still talking about video ideas, the corner of his lips curled up, just barely. you flushed, looking away in hopes he hadn't seen.

you and mandy finish cleaning up. you yawn, heading to the front door to get your shoes on. "you walking home?" mandy asks, concerned.

"yeah, its like a 30 minute walk, not too far." you smile, trying to reassure her you'll be fine. mandy flashes a frown at you, "its cold, are you sure? i can drive you."

"mandy, trust me its fi-" you get cut off by hamzah, "i'll drive her home." he clears his throat. you show a confused look as you smile, putting on your shoes.

hamzah picks up his keys, opening the front door. "come on." he demands you. martin and mandy flash eachother a look and smirk, saying their goodbyes. you both head out the door, walking down the hallway to leave the building.

theres an awkward silence between you two as you head towards the car. he opens the passenger door for you, your cheeks turn red, thankful for the cold weather disguising your fluster.

you climb into the passenger seat as he shuts the door, heading over to the opposite side. he climbs in and immediately starts the car, putting your address in the gps.

as the car hummed down the empty road, the soft sound of the engine was the only thing breaking the silence. you could feel the warmth of the cars interior surrounding you, and despite the tension earlier, something about the quiet made you feel safe. you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the seat, your head tipping slightly to the side, eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

but the silence felt like it was choking you. it was suffocating, thick air. you couldnt stand it anymore, the awkwardness clawing at your chest, so you spoke up, your voice soft, trying to break the tension.

"thanks for driving me home," you murmured, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. you turned your head slightly, hoping to catch his eyes, but he was so focused on the road, his jaw tight. the way he was holding himself, so distant, made the words feel like they were falling flat in the air. “i know its late, and you probably have better things to do, but i really do appreciate it.”

there was a long pause, and you could feel the coldness radiating off him. he didnt respond right away, and the silence streched out, sharp and uncomfortable.

“yeah, well, its not like i had a choice, right?” his voice was flat, almost dismissive, and it stung more than you expected.

you pushed on, forcing a small laugh to lighten the mood. “i probably wouldve ended up stranded if it werent for you. or, like, lost in a ditch somewhere.” ou glanced at him again, searching his face for any flicker of softness, but all you got was the faintest twitch of his jaw.

the rejection settled in slowly, like a cold ache blooming in your chest. you leaned back into the seat, folding in on yourself, wishing you could just disappear.

you prop your elbow up on the car door, leaning your head on your hand as you gaze out the window.

“im sorry if i… talk too much or whatever,” you whispered, barely audible, more to yourself than to him.

hamzah exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “you don’t have to fill every silence, you know. its annoying,” he muttered, his voice low and tight.

it shouldnt have hurt as much as it did.

you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, turning your head to stare back out the window. the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold against the night sky. you blinked rapidly, willing away the sting in your eyes.

for the rest of the drive, you didnt say another word.

and he didnt seem to notice.

or maybe he did — and just didnt care.

the car slowly came to a stop as he pulled up to your apartment complex. you unbuckled as you held the car handle. "thank you." you murmur, avoiding eye contact. he hums in response as you open the car door and step out. you rush to the entrance of your apartment. as he drives off you sigh, shoving the key into your door and entering.

after your proper introduction to hamzah, you became a fixture in their little group.

its now been a week since the awkward car ride between you and hamzah. your phone buzzed on your bed as your putting on some pyjamas.

you glance at it, seeing mandys contact. you rush over to read the text. you smile at the invite to a game night with just you four, knowing hamzah will be there for sure. you accept and start heading out of your front door, saying goodbye to your two dogs — bubbles and disco.

you arrive at mandy and martins shared apartment after a long 30 minutes of walking in the cold, dark night.

you knock as you hear mandys feet quickly shuffling to the door. she opens it and greets you, pulling you into a hug. as your hugging, your eyes meet hamzah. you flash him a smile as his eyes quickly dart away, looking cold. she pulls away and you enter the house.

"go sit next to hamzah! we'll start once the hot cocoa is all ready," she shares, smiling as she walks back to martin in the kitchen.

you sit next to hamzah, feeling his awkward aura as he shifts himself slightly, distancing you two a bit more. you take a deep breath, uncomfortable with the silence.

you clutch your hands in your lap, fingers twisting together as you try to ignore the space hes put between you. the distance feels louder than the silence itself, each second stretching out like an eternity.

“i can move if you want,” you offer quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. you dont look at him, your eyes fixed on a faint scratch in the dining table. “i dont want to bother you.”

hamzah exhales, sounding annoyed. “youre fine,” he mutters, but he doesnt move closer.

the words should be reassuring, but they feel hollow, like hes just saying them to end the conversation. you nod, pressing your lips together to keep the lump in your throat from rising, and let the silence swallow you both again.

mandy and martin slowly walk over to the table were sat at with a pile of board games, giggling as they both hold 2 cups of hot cocoa.

they reach the table as they set down the cups, sliding you and hamzah yours as they sit in their respective seats opposite from you and hamzah.

you adjust yourself as you pick up your hot cocoa to sip. "oh carefu-" mandy warns, getting cut off by your whimper at the hot liquid burning your mouth.

hamzah glances over, eyes flickering to you as you set the cup down quickly, fanning your mouth with your hand and swallowing the burning liquid with a whimper. "seriously?" he mutters, shaking his head. "are you stupid? is it not obvious its hot?"

martin snorts, biting back a laugh. mandy gives hamzah a pointed look. "you dont have to be rude," she chides, nudging him under the table.

the burn still lingers on your tongue, but what stings more is the sharp edge to hamzahs words. still, you force a smile, waving it off. “its fine,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “my fault for not listening.”

for a split second, something unreadable flickers across hamzahs face, but he quickly schools his expression, leaning back in his chair like he couldnt care less.

mandy breaks the tension with a clap of her hands, pulling out the first game from the pile. “okay! how about we play something to lighten the mood?” she chirps, shooting you a sympathetic smile.

you nod, grateful for the distraction, but as the game begins, you cant help but notice the way hamzah avoids looking at you — like your presence is something hes trying to ignore.

you throw your hands up, laughing loud, voice echoing, filling the space. cards fall as you cheer for yourself, a wild grin on your face.

mandy giggles, martin shakes his head, the room buzzing, alive and bright. but hamzahs voice cuts through it all — sharp as a blade, too tight

“do you ever shut up?” he mutters, not even bothering to glance. the words hit harder than bullets, stripping away your stance.

“youre so annoying,” he bites out low, like your joy is some kind of crime. the room turns cold, your laughter dies.

mandy and martin trade a look, their smiles faltering. you swallow the ache, force a grin, pretending the hurt wont last.

but every word lingers, heavy and sharp, etching itself in your skin.

the night continues and you find yourself being quiet and reserved, only speaking when spoken to, not cheering when you win, and only mumbling short little answers when someone asks you something

you glance at the oven clock, noticing it says 12:34 am. you sigh before mumbling, "i think im gonna head home, its getting late." forcing a smile, you get up from your chair and stretch.

"oh, yeah it is.. are you sure you dont wanna just spend the night?" mandy questions. you bite your cheek, "no, im fine."

you hug mandy and say goodbye to martin as you quickly walk to the door and put on your shoes. hamzah has a confused look on his face when he notices you didnt even bother saying goodbye to him.

his expression quickly falters when he sees martin looking at him. you open the door and slam it shut, walking outside into the frigid night.

you sigh, not wanting to walk in the dark or cold but knowing its either that or another awkward car ride with hamzah.

'maybe he just is upset im intruding on their group' you think, zoning out as you continue walking the 45 minute walk to your apartment.

your mind rattles with a bunch of ideas as to why hamzah is so cold to you. obviously its not unusual that he was cold but it was different with you. like he had some unbearable hatred against you.

a sharp pain snaps you out of your thoughts, you wince, only now noticing the blood on your lip. you must have been biting it without realizing. swiping your tongue over the wound, you continue walking until you finally reach home. the moment you step inside, your dogs dart from their little bougie beds to greet you.

you yawn, shuffling over to your bedroom. you lay down, taking off your shoes and throwing them randomly. you tug the blankets over yourself the instant a shoe hits the ground. you turn on your phone, deciding to mindlessly scroll on instagram. as your scrolling you space out, however, one specific post catches your eye.

your eyes inspect the photo, jaw slacking ever so slightly as you see a photo hamzah posted only 20 minutes ago. him and another girl hanging out, hamzah smiling as the girl is acting silly.

for some reason, you feel hurt. as if your heart had just been ripped out. sure, you werent expecting to be the only girl hamzah hangs out with but it hurt seeing him so happy with another girl. you didnt expect for him to like you as well, especially not this fast. but you liked him, a lot. you always have.

you turn off your phone and roll over, tears silently escaping. you wiped them, 'this is stupid to be upset over, of course he doesnt like me!' you repeat in your head until you eventually fall asleep.

the past 2 and a half months have been nothing but you bed rotting. of course there has been plenty of opportunities for you to get out but you just didnt want to leave the comfort of your house, or bed for that matter.

mandy was worried, constantly checking up on you, calling you, inviting you for game nights, but you only spoke to her breifly. telling her not to worry and that you were fine. she never believed you, obviously.

you took notice to the fact that only mandy was calling, never once did hamzah call you. not even to ask if you were coming to the game nights or movie nights.

and after 2 more weeks, he still didnt. you knew to stop waiting to see his stupid contact buzz on your phone, so you gave up any hope of thinking he cared.

hamzah didnt think you leaving the group when you had just joined would affect him. and truth be told, it didnt at first.

but the silence starts to eat at him. the group feels dead without your voice. game nights are quieter. hamzah catches himself stalking your page. seeing the way your bright smile travels to whoever else is in the picture with you. seeing you makes him smile, even if its just simple photos of you.

your sleeping as your abruptly woken up by your phone ringing and vibrating. you groan, looking at the screen and seeing hamzahs name.

[ricochetyears]

self-promoting thursday bc this is an ao3 war and we die like regulus black (that’s a lie he’s happy and alive)

ac: sophithil

[havenandart]

:^) wip of this mean asshole

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter one

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: look a new series! Two things inspired this (besides my everlasting love for the Batman): @bellaxgiornata's angsty Daredevil fic All These Years, and @neutron-stars-collision's Waiting For the Night (which also features an investigative reporter reader, but is set during the film). If you're here because you loved motn, welcome back! If not, check out my other battinson fics here!

(side note: I know this is a reader insert and Dory is canonically white, but reader could be adopted. I never clarify that)

Series Masterlist

word count: 3k

“Both of them are–?” Y/n choked on the last word, unable to get it past the back of her throat. But she thought it anyway. Dead. 

It was early, too early, her pajamas and hair still rumpled from sleep. Three hours until her alarm would go off. The faux hardwood floors were cold beneath her feet. The warmth of her bed was a thousand miles away. Her heart still pounded from being woken by a harsh knocking at her door. When she’d checked the time on her phone, she had four hours of missed calls from Alfred and two from an unknown number.

Alfred put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He was the last of her family now, though he didn’t share her blood. “I’m so sorry, darling girl.” 

Y/n’s grandmother, Dory, the woman who raised her, gone. Along with her daughter, y/n’s mother, the woman who abandoned her as a child. Both gone in one fell swoop. She can’t find it within herself to grieve too much for the woman who gave her life. She’d already abandoned her, over and over, the grief lessening each time. 

But her grandmother–A strangled noise passed her lips and Alfred hurried to step in to embrace her.

“She had a great life,” he said gently. “She lived long and lived well.” 

And somehow, it helped. Alfred had been in her grandmother’s life longer than she had, and therefore knew her better. She had lived well, her life long and full. She was eighty-five years old and had still been in relatively good shape, physically and mentally. 

Alfred held her while she cried, the minutes stretching long yet sharp. They pierced her over and over, each one a moment in which her grandmother no longer existed. She didn’t know how long she cried, only that it was nearly impossible to stop. 

“Bruce is covering all expenses, of course,” Alfred said as he released her. 

The name raced through her like a bolt of electricity. Bruce. Of course she had to see Bruce. Dory had worked for his family for nearly fifty years, after all. Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Bruce, almost three years ago to the day. Hurt washed over her all over again. This one was different than the grief but just as sharp.

“That’s…too kind.” It’s the best she could do. Besides, her income as a journalist in Bludhaven wasn’t exactly enough to cover one funeral, let alone two. So she couldn’t tell Bruce to take his money and shove it. She knew it was a gesture of obligation not of goodwill. 

“You know you and Dory are our family,” Alfred said, his familiar accent a balm to her nerves. He hadn’t missed the almost visceral reaction to Bruce’s name. He had always known, even though he hadn’t ever said a word. 

She almost scoffed at the word family, but held it back at the last moment. Alfred was her family. Just as Bruce had been her family, once. 

I don’t have time for you, he’d practically snarled the last time she saw him. 

The words still ached. 

“Do you want to drive back with me?” Alfred asked, his voice pulling her from thoughts of the past. “Or I can get a hotel for the night if you need time to pack.” 

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to wait until the absolute last minute to leave, to delay seeing Bruce again for as long as possible. But she owed it to her grandmother, at least, to be present for the plans honoring her life. And she was sure she needed to sign some paperwork to have the bodies released. 

Bodies. It’s a shock to think of them that way. Two people, two souls, reduced to shells in one accident. 

Her mind jumped to her last conversation with Dory, the previous Sunday. Four days ago. Now she was simply…gone. Had she told her she loved her? She couldn’t remember now, no matter how hard she tried. 

The ache was back, the tears flowing without her express permission. 

“No, let me just–grab a bag and we can go now. I’ll call work on the way.” It helped to have a manageable list of things to do. Pack. Go with Alfred. Call work. Sign papers. One step, one breath, one moment at a time. Which would be the same way she would handle seeing Bruce again. 

Thankfully the editor of The Bludhaven Tribune was more friend than boss and would completely understand. Besides, if it came down to it, she had a couple of weeks of unused vacation time saved up. Dory had always made the trip to her–at least for the past three years. She had understood the need to stay away from Gotham and the man who had broken y/n’s heart. So her vacation days were rarely used. 

Within an hour, y/n’s bags were packed and a fresh cup of coffee was waiting in the cupholder of Alfred’s car. The cold air was a shock to her overloaded system. Her chest was too tight, her breathing labored. She couldn’t tell what was hurting worse–the grief for her grandmother or the anxiety of seeing Bruce again. 

A silly, hopeless crush, he’d said three years ago. 

A silly, hopeless crush that still hadn’t gone away, despite the fact that he’d effectively ground her heart to dust beneath his heel with the words. 

A few minutes into the drive, another question bubbled to the surface. “Alfred…” she began, unsure how to find the bravery to ask. “Did she suffer? Did they suffer?” Because, as many times as her mother had broken her heart, she was still her mother. 

Alfred was quiet so long that she feared the worst. But then, finally, “I don’t believe so, no. Your mother was driving. Dory was the passenger, where the impact was. And before you ask, your mother was clean.” 

She did flinch this time.

It had been her first thought. She was glad of the answer though, twisted as it sounded. 

She knew exactly why they were driving together. Because she used to take her grandmother to her appointments, but after leaving Gotham three years ago…it became harder and harder to make the time in the middle of the week. 

And, surprisingly, y/n’s mother had stepped in. She wanted to make amends, her grandmother had told her. She’d scoffed at that, but couldn’t deny the relief that had washed over her. She loved her grandmother, but having to pick her up from Wayne Tower was a particular kind of torture. The place held too many memories, both good and bad, now so inextricably linked that the pain bled into the happier memories. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Alfred asked quietly, as if reading her mind. 

Her hands knotted in her lap. “In Gotham or…?” She let the rest of the question hang in the air. Or at Wayne Tower? Or in Bruce Wayne’s presence? Because all three had slightly different answers. 

Alfred gave her a look before turning his attention back to the road. 

Y/n sighed softly. “Three years, give or take a few weeks.” 

“You never came inside when picking up Dory?” 

“No.” Her heart clenched with pain. “That’s why my mother…” 

Alfred nodded in understanding. “Maybe this can be…a new beginning,” he finally said. “Things are different. I think he needs you more than either of you realize.” 

No need to ask who he was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but Alfred meant well. Of course he wanted her and Bruce to make up, to go back to the way things were. 

He didn’t know how thoroughly Bruce Wayne broke her heart. 

“Then Bruce can apologize.” She crossed her arms. Because, as much as she still loved him, Bruce had been in the wrong, not her. It had taken him a long time to turn his anger on her, but he finally had…right after she had confessed her feelings for him. 

Y/n spent the rest of the drive in silence, the grief for her grandmother numbing her inside and out even as it warred with the anxiety gnawing at her gut. 

She thought about how it would feel to step into Wayne Tower again. How it would feel to step inside and not be greeted with a warm embrace from her grandmother. With her love. With her understanding. With her gentle manipulations to get her to help her with the housekeeping duties for free.

A few tears slipped out. God, she was gone. Y/n would never again hug her or speak to her or have her tell a story to help her fall asleep–something that happened even as an adult. Something she had done to help ease the heartbreak of three years ago.

She startled as a hand took hers. Alfred said nothing, merely squeezed. 

When she looked up, the city of Gotham was spread before her. She saw the neon lights from Gotham Square Garden near the city center, bright despite the early morning hour. Fog wound its way through the streets, a proper gloomy Gotham welcome to suit her mood. 

Though Bludhaven wasn’t far, it was much sunnier than the city of her birth. 

In the past year since the flood, Gotham became even gloomier. The streets were dirtier, darker, half the streetlights still broken. She remembered suddenly, vividly, the fear she’d felt upon hearing the news. She’d been called into work late at night last November. The office had been chaotic, frantic, Gotham’s nearest big city neighbor gearing up to help but also to tell the stories. 

Y/n is ashamed to admit that her first thought hadn’t been of her grandmother. 

It was of Bruce. 

Alfred, she had known, had been safe in the top floors of the hospital. She’d returned from a visit only the day before. The panic from the news of the explosion, caused by a serial killer, had barely worn off. Even after seeing Alfred was okay with her own eyes, she felt a lingering panic. Even after Alfred told her that Bruce hadn’t been home at the time and was perfectly fine.  

But Bruce–and by extension Dory–were unknown variables in the flooding. Had they been evacuated? Had either been present for the new mayor’s event? Had they remained safe in the tower, partially blown up as it was? 

She had waited sixteen excruciating hours before finally hearing that they were safe. Unharmed, even. 

The air around y/n suddenly darkened. While she was daydreaming of the past, they had reached their destination. Alfred pulled into the private, street level parking garage reserved for family only. There were several other cars there, including Bruce’s favorite classic sports car. The sight of the car alone made her chest ache. 

Y/n stared vacantly at the car. She startled as Alfred suddenly opened her door with her bags in his hand.

She blinked slowly, dazed. 

It was too much to deal with. Losing her family, coming back to Gotham, back to Bruce…She wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. It felt like eons since the Alfred at her door woke her, though it was only a couple of hours at most. 

As she followed Alfred to the private elevator, she wondered if Bruce would avoid her. If he would hide from the uncomfortable as he so often did. Part of her hoped he did. Part of her hoped she could get through everything without seeing him. But that was stupid. He would be, at the very least, at the funerals. 

Another wave of grief nearly knocked her over. She had to bury the last bit of blood relations she had. Had. The past tense was another unavoidable wave threatening to drown her. Her mother and grandmother both only existed in the past now. 

Y/n suddenly realized that that was how Bruce had been feeling for two decades. The feeling of being utterly alone in the universe, no one but himself left with his family name, his family legacy. But his was worse, so much worse. She had, at least, had her family for twice as long as he had. And that counted for something. 

The elevator ride was long and slow. Or maybe that was grief and panic warping time until she had no idea if the ride had just started or was about to end. Despite getting almost seven hours of sleep from a rare early night, she was exhausted. Her limbs were made of lead, her eyes heavy, her brain begging to be switched off. 

The smell alone, the particular blend of dust and old paper, was enough to make her knees weak. Ten thousand memories flooded back all at once, so many of them that she couldn’t fixate on any single one. 

The doors slid open and Alfred stepped out with her bags. 

But she had to press a hand to the wall of the elevator to steady herself as a familiar deep voice rang out in the silence. “That was fast,” Bruce said. God, his voice. “Did she decide to stay until the last moment then?” 

Alfred didn’t answer, because y/n’s presence stepping from the elevator was enough. 

Her heart was somewhere in her throat, or maybe her knees. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to look at him and see the indifference he now felt for her. She couldn’t look at him and hold a thousand more memories. 

She couldn’t look at him and love him, knowing he didn’t feel the same. 

The silence was deafening and finally, finally, she tore her eyes from the floor and looked up. 

There was a rush in her ears as she beheld him for the first time in three years. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a pair of dark, well-worn jeans. His shirt was too big for him and his hair–his hair was longer. Her eyes skipped over him hungrily, noticing more and more differences in the person she used to know better than herself. 

He was taller, for one. She thought men stopped growing at twenty-five years old, or something like that. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, like he was more sure of his place in the world. And his shoulders were more broad, his arms more muscular. Bruce had all at once become…a man. Not that he hadn’t been a man three years before, but something about him was…more.

There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, like he hadn't slept. And, she supposed, if he was the one who had answered the call about her grandmother and mother, he likely hadn’t. 

She realized that they both had been staring at each other in silence. Alfred half-stepped out of the foyer like he couldn’t decide whether or not to give them privacy or stay to make sure they wouldn’t tear out each others’ throats. She wondered what Bruce had told him about their fight. Had it been the truth? Or had he played it close to the vest, like always? 

“Hi,” she finally said. Her mouth was dry and her voice cracked on the word. There was so much she wanted to say to him. Thank you and I’m sorry and I still love you even if you hate me were all warring to be first. 

“Hi,” he said back. His blue eyes pinned her to the spot. They seemed bluer, or maybe she had forgotten the exact shade of them. She wanted to close her eyes and sink into the familiar comfort of him, but those days were far gone. Three years gone. 

“I–” She wasn’t sure what words would come out but the need to fill the silence was too great. 

He beat her to it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. She knew he meant about her family and not about three years before. She knew it in the way she knew most things about him, born of the sheer amount of time they spent together throughout their lives. Even with three years separating their last interaction, she could still read him. Maybe not as well as she used to but still well enough. 

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t. Or, I missed you, even though she did. Or even Thank you, because he hadn’t done anything other than offer to pay for the funerals. 

“Your old room is ready,” Bruce said and his eyes flickered away. Was he so tired of her already? 

I don’t have time for you and your silly, useless crush. The words seemed to echo in the air. Was he able to hear them too? 

“Who–” 

“She kept it ready for you,” Bruce said and his voice softened, easing the blow. 

A stray tear escaped.

Of course she had. Y/n’s grandmother was nothing if not optimistic. 

She had to take a breath and close her eyes against the wash of pain. Dory had kept her room ready for her, even knowing that Bruce Wayne broke her heart, even knowing she wouldn’t step foot inside Wayne Tower again unless absolutely necessary. 

As always, y/n’s grandmother had ensured that she always had a place to come home to. You’ll always have a home with me, she had said the day y/n left Gotham. 

She stepped away, eyes still closed, feet knowing the way by heart. When she opened them, she saw Bruce’s hand fall, as if he had reached out, perhaps to comfort her. 

The pain of that missing touch was too much. 

She simply nodded once. 

And then she fled. 

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent. 

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry. 

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld

[th30ra3k3n]

“i’m in love with you. and if you stay, i promise there’s no safer place in the world than right here with me.”

“i’m so scared.”

“i know you are, but you don’t have to be. you don’t have to be scared. i love you. please stay.”

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

From Miami to Haven

480 words; 2 hits; 1 kudos [7.11.2023]

Summary:

Garland Wuornos is curious why Audrey Parker's personality was picked. Her latest case in Miami clarifies things for him.

Chapter 1:

Summary:

Garland calls Howard to ask questions about the real Audrey Parker.

[cookiedoughmeagain]

Not entirely sure if this counts as a coffee shop AU when it's set around a bar, but I just posted possibly the most fluffiest uncomplicated Nathan/Duke fic I've ever written.

-

Nathan is struggling to settle into life as a uniformed officer in the Miami Police Department. Duke is a law-abiding barman with a taste for lonely cops.

Rated E, 6,000 words

[troyssix]

NEWTMAS NEWTMAS NEWTMAS

(books)

"newt squeezed his hand tightly"

"thomas realized how much newt meant to him"

"what's up, tommy? you look bloody great for 3 in the morning"

"i knew i'd follow you anywhere. and i have" (this is just the films ik but still)

also newt only trusting thomas with the note

also the TENSION

also newt being confirmed fruity

historians say "they were great friends" THEY WERE GAY BITCHES

[havens-iphone]

ᡣ𐭩 between shared walls ⋮ roommate!hamzah

wc ⋮ 1.2k

authors note ⋮ so this was ORIGINALLY intended to be like 300-500 words.. yeeeaaahhh.. ANYWAYS i feel like theres rlly not enough hamzah fics and its so sad i read them all in like 2 days💔💔

the first time you met hamzah, he was standing in the doorway of your new apartment, a cup of instant ramen in hand and sleep-mussed hair. his voice was groggy when he introduced himself, rubbing his eyes like a kid waking up from a nap. you were flustered, apologizing for the boxes blocking the hallway, but he just shrugged.

“it’s your home too,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile before disappearing into his room.

living with him was… easy, in ways you didn’t expect. he cleaned the kitchen without being asked and always brewed an extra cup of tea in the mornings. you’d find notes on the fridge in his scrawled handwriting — reminders like “don’t forget your umbrella” or “good luck on your exam!” he never overstepped, always giving you space, but his quiet presence became a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

but easy didn’t mean simple.

you tried not to fall for him. truly, you did. but then he’d lean against the counter late at night, listening to your ramblings about work with those gentle eyes, or he’d nudge your shoulder with his when you were sad, offering a half-hearted, “want me to fight whoever upset you?”

it built slowly, this ache in your chest.

and then, one night, it cracked.

you’d just gotten home from a disastrous date, eyes puffy from crying, mascara streaking your cheeks. hamzah was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and he immediately sat up when he saw you.

“what happened?” his voice, usually so light, was low, serious.

you tried to brush it off, but he wouldn’t let you. he listened as you spilled every awful detail — the harsh words, the disappointment, the feeling of never being enough. you kept talking until your throat hurt, until there was nothing left to say.

and then he whispered, “he’s an idiot, you know.”

you laughed, wet and shaky. “i think that’s generous.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, and something shifted.

“i don’t get it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “how anyone could have you — could know you — and not feel like the luckiest person alive.”

your heart thudded painfully. “hamzah…”

he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “forget it. you should get some sleep.”

for days, things were… strange. he wasn’t cold, but distant in a way he never was before. the notes on the fridge stopped, and he spent more time in his room, door closed. you missed him, missed the way things used to be, and it made your chest feel hollow.

but then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

hamzah stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, looking unsure for the first time since you met him.

“i can’t —” his voice cracked. “i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more.”

and just like that, the ache in your chest unraveled.

because neither could you.

you stared at hamzah, your heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. his words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile all at once.

“i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more,” he’d said, voice shaking like he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

but the truth was, you hated it more — hated the thought of him hurting, of him thinking he had to hide from you.

“come in,” you whispered, stepping aside.

he hesitated, lingering in the doorway like he might run. but he didn’t. he stepped into your room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, and you shut the door behind him.

the silence stretched, uncomfortable and loaded. you sat on the edge of your bed, picking at the hem of your sweater, and hamzah stayed standing, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice small.

he exhaled a humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “because you deserve someone better.”

your chest cracked open. “better?”

he nodded, pacing the length of your room. “someone who doesn’t freeze up every time you smile at them. someone who can actually hold a conversation instead of standing there like an idiot because they’re too busy trying not to stare at your mouth.”

your breath caught. “hamzah—”

“you don’t get it.” he turned to face you, eyes burning. “i liked you from the start. and every day i told myself it was just a crush, that it would fade. but then you’d leave me notes on the fridge or laugh at my stupid jokes, and it just… got worse.”

you swallowed hard, hands trembling in your lap. “it wasn’t a crush,” you whispered. “not for me either.”

he froze. “what?”

you stood, heart in your throat. “i tried so hard not to fall for you, hamzah. but then you’d make me tea when i couldn’t sleep or stay up late watching terrible movies with me because i was sad, and i… i couldn’t help it.”

he stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i thought you didn’t see me that way,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i thought i was just your roommate.”

hamzah closed the distance between you in two steps. his hands hovered over your arms like he was scared to touch you, scared you’d disappear.

“you were never just anything to me,” he whispered.

and when you didn’t pull away, he finally cupped your face in his hands, fingers warm and careful.

“you sure about this?” he asked, voice shaking.

you nodded, tears burning your eyes. “i’ve never been more sure.”

so he kissed you — soft, tentative, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. but when you kissed him back, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, he melted.

and for the first time since you met him, everything finally made sense.

[arson-09]

Have been seeing some discussion again about tamlin being a good High Lord or not and I just have to remind everyone of one of the best little facts from acotar I never really seen mentioned.

Acotar, Chapter 25 Page 221

She [Alis] simply said, "Summer Solstice. The main celebration used to be at the Summer Court, but... Things are different. So now we have one here, too. You're going."

"so now we have one here too..." Because of amarantha and Tamlin being just a good person he allowed anyfae from any court to come to spring. And because no one could really go back to their courts for their respective solstice celebrations, Tamlin made sure Spring Celebrated all of them

I just think that's such a cool fucking thing. That Tamlin cared for the people coming to spring for safety, and he made changes to help everyone feel comfortable and at home. He cares about the people who live in Spring, he cares so damn much :(((

[havenandart]

had no goals no aim no nothing just :^) a little sketch of my jason rancher au as a treat. also the happiest jason i've ever drawn. good for you buddy.