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scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

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7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place.

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger.

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich.

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things?

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.”

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement.

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings.

And shit, you believed him.

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin.

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname.

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him.

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans.

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

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topgun-imagines · 1 year ago

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At Peace

Requested: yes

Summary: Jake comes home after a long day at work to find you asleep during the thunderstorm. He can’t help but join you.

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: thunderstorms, not really any.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Large, dark clouds were building steadily above Miramar. After a long day, all Jake wanted was to relax at home with you. He sighed as he watched lightning strike in the distance, his wiper blades working quickly to keep the rain from the windshield. You were waiting for him at home. That though was what made Jake press down on the gas a little harder.

The roads were empty on this rainy night, everyone deciding to stay cooped up inside rather than face the wet, February weather. Thunder cracked loudly, bright lightning flashing only seconds later. The storm was closer than Jake had originally thought. Now, more than ever, he wished he was home with you. He couldn’t wait to spend this rainy winter night with his girl.

There was only eight minutes before Jake was home. The closer he got to your shared house, the rain got heavier and the clouds darkened even more. The once bright blue sky was now a colour akin to black.

Those eight minutes seemed to pass by in a flash. Before he knew it, he was pulling up to the curb in front of your shared home and jumping out of his lifted truck. With quick footsteps, Jake headed into the house. The silence inside had him searching for your normally-bright presence.

When you two first got together, Jake learned that you loved thunderstorms. Every time, without fail, he would find you sitting next to the window, simply watching the lightning flash and the rainfall. Once the two of you got together, that became something that you shared. Oftentimes, you would end up cuddling on the couch, curtains pulled back and lights off to display the beauty of the lightning. The TV would be shut off, allowing you to relish in the clapping of the thunder. During those few hours, you never wanted to move.

Jake searched through the house. He checked the living room, your bedroom, the kitchen and the bathroom in search of you and sighed when he came up empty. Where could you be? With one last-ditch effort, Jake moved toward the back door. It led out onto the deck which had a beautiful view of the beach. Occasionally, a plane could be seen taking off from the base. You would often sit outside when Jake was at work, knowing that one of the planes that you could see in the sky contained your fiancé.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Curled up under a light, barely there blanket on the white couch was your delicate frame. The breath in his lungs seemed to escape all at once. Your fiancé looked at you in awe. He had never seen you look more beautiful. As silent as possible, Jake pulled open the screen door. He could easily see how peaceful you were. Your chest was rising and falling slowly and your eyes were fluttering as you dreamt. He couldn’t help but snap a quick picture of your peaceful state.

When Jake stepped outside, thunder clapped loudly. Even though most people would have jolted awake, you remained sound asleep. There hadn’t been a storm in a while so, this was the first time in a long time that he had seen you this at peace. You remained sound asleep, even as your fiancé slipped in beside you. As his arm wound around your waist, he was careful not to wake you. Even when he pulled you back into his chest, you didn’t stir.

Jake was nearly asleep when you rolled over. Grinning up at him sleepily, your arms wrapped around his toned midsection as you snuggled closer to him. One of his hands reached up, brushing a few wispy strands of hair away from your face. You seemed to relax even further, eyes slipping shut once more. Then, your fiancé leaned forward and peppered kisses across your forehead. Giggling softly in response, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck to hide from his ministrations.

It was hard to hide his grin as he pressed one last soft kiss to your temple. Thunder clapped above, and yet it couldn’t pull Jake’s eyes away from your soft features. The look of pure love in his eyes was hard to miss and it had you blushing intensely, looking back at his sweater-clad shoulder to avoid his teasing stare. “I love you.” He spoke quietly, thumb rubbing over your temple before he kissed your forehead.

Your eyes closed, revelling in the feeling. Once you whispered those same words back to him, your fiancé pulled you into his chest snugly. His warm palm smoothed over your back, fingers drawing intricate patterns against your soft skin. Content, Jake allowed his head to fall against your shoulder,

Moments later, Jake found himself nodding off against your shoulder. Now he understood why you loved thunderstorms so much. Even though there was thunder clapping harshly overhead and lightning flashing across the sky, Jake couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of calm. When he was racing home to you, he was expecting to find you curled up on the couch, eagerly waiting for him to return to you before the two of you would fall into bed and listen to the sounds above. Instead, he got the opportunity to snuggle with you and feel your soft, smooth skin under his warm palm.

His eyes slipped shut and he allowed sleep to overtake him, content in simply lying here with you, under the violent, yet peaceful skies above.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed!! Thank you for reading. Requests are open :)

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miryum · 1 month ago

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"The Fugitive"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Chapter Warnings: someone held at knifepoint and Leonardo DiCaprio (sorry, I know he's a pedo)

Series Masterlist

Leonardo Dicaprio had his headphones on and he wore a large white sweatshirt, even against the Gotham heat. He was crossing the street as he took a bite of his burrito. A large armoured truck was driving on the street behind him, when suddenly, the truck veered off the road and up onto the sidewalk, slowly tipping over. Leonardo scoffed and looked down in his takeout bag. “What? Damn it, they forgot my pico de gallo.” An old Eastern European lady next to him shrieked and pointed at the truck. Nine men in orange jumpsuits jumped out of the truck, but Leonardo didn’t notice anything on account of his obnoxiously large headphones that were blasting music. The nine men scattered into the winds and Leonardo tsked.

Y/n strolled into the precinct, yawning and stretching. Jason was already at his desk and he looked up, his gaze not holding the same love and affection that it usually did. “Love the shirt, L/n,” Tim said sarcastically.

“Thanks, man,” Y/n said, sporting a raggedy old Hogwarts Alumni shirt. “Hufflepuffs are underrated and Slytherins are amazing,” she voiced halfheartedly. “However, Drake, this is not my shirt.” She slumped in her seat. “I slept at Jason’s and spilled ketchup over my shirt. So, unless I wanted to look like that murder victim from last week, it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“Why don’t you two move in together already?” Dick asked, munching on a doughnut. “I thought you were planning to, no?”

Jason cut in, running a hand down his face. “We are. We are. And I would love to, but we haven’t decided whose apartment to live in. I think Y/n should move in with me cause it’s bigger and has nicer amenities.”

“However,” Y/n interrupted. “My place is cheaper and closer to work.”

“How many times have I had to kill spiders and insects for you?” Jason asked Y/n bluntly.

Y/n scoffed and spluttered and eventually stuttered out, “well. How many times have you killed spiders at your place?”

“None,” Jason replied smoothly. “That’s my point.”

Captain Wayne interrupted the little spat by announcing, “alright, everyone. Listen up. We have a situation. Ten minutes ago, a prison van overturned on Nevins Street. It was carrying nine convicts who are now at large. It's our job to bring them in. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a manhunt.”

Y/n’s eyes widened and she gasped dramatically. “A manhunt!” She straightened her back and marched up and down the bullpen. “Okay, what I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area!” Y/n cried out. “Your fugitive's name is Dr. Richard Kimble.”

“There must be some sort of error.” Wayne frowned and flipped through the file. “There are nine fugitives, and none of them are named Kimble.”

“I didn't kill my wife!” Y/n suddenly screamed out.

“What?” Jason reacted.

“You're supposed to go, ‘I don't care!’” Y/n mimicked, slapping Jason lightly on the arm.

“I don't care,” Jason repeated in a monotone voice.

“Let the manhunt begin,” Y/n grinned, raising a victorious fist.

Wayne rolled his eyes and led everyone into the briefing room. “Patrol officers have secured a ten-block perimeter,” he explained. “All civilians are being evacuated. Here's what the convicts were in for: arson, kidnapping, racketeering, assault and battery, forgery and counterfeiting, and triple homicide.” He clicked a button on the remote and pictures of nine men appeared on screen.

“Whoo!” Y/n raised her hand, looking for a high-five. Steph looked over at her best friend, aghast. “What?” Y/n shrugged. “I'm not excited about the murder. I'm excited about the chance to avenge them.”

“Cain, I want you here with me interviewing witnesses,” Wayne automatically ignored Y/n. “The rest of you will search the secured area in the following teams: Todd and Brown; L/n and Grayson. Get to work.”

“Okay. We'll start south of Nevins,” Jason instructed once the four detectives were all suited up. “You two start at Bond and we'll rendezvous in the middle, assuming, of course, Brown and I haven't already caught all the fugitives by the time you two show up.”

“Jason, there are nine hardened criminals running free in the streets,” Y/n said firmly, brows furrowed and arms crossed. “This is hardly the time for childish trash talk.” She paused and then added, “it's time for a bet.”

“What are you thinking?” Jason asked as if this was a normal thing in their relationship.

“Whoever catches the most fugitives gets to keep their apartment,” Y/n proposed, smirking.

Jason smirked back and held out his hand to shake. “Prepare to die, and by ‘die,’ I mean move in with me and marry me and have some beautiful children assuming that’s what you wish to do and either way I’m completely fine with your decision because I love you so much but I’m gonna win this bet.”

“Here we go,” Dick muttered, rolling his eyes as Y/n jumped into a police cruiser. He hopped in after her, barely having time to buckle his seatbelt before she floored the gas. Dick screamed out, “I get that the streets are empty, but slow down, man! I forgot my Dramamine.”

“Stakes are high, Sarge,” Y/n replied, screeching the wheel to the right. “Not only have I totally wanted to be able to go over the speed limit in a really cool car chase, but I also really wanna beat Jay.”

“Look, I am completely on board,” Dick said, clutching the grab handle and thinking that if his daughters ever turned out to be like Y/n, he would never take them to practise driving. “You need your own space. I had a little bar in my old apartment with all the best gin and vodka.” Dick smiled wistfully, thinking of his lovely hobby as a bartender. “But then I moved in with Kori. And then the kids came along.” His smile disappeared and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “You wanna know where I have my bar now?

Dick shuffled around a closet and knocked over a shelf of expensive bottles. “My alcohol!” he screamed out.

“I am not gonna let you lose this bet,” Dick grumbled.

“Cool. So, basically just telling me not to get married and have kids…” Y/n side-eyed him awkwardly. “Anything from dispatch?” she asked after a moment.

Dick checked in and reported, “based on security footage, two fugitives ran North toward Shadowcrest. Looks like the arsonist and counterfeiter.”

“Fantastic,” Y/n grinned, the car revving underneath her.

Stepanie and Jason sat in a squad car, cruising down the streets as Steph reported, “Apparently, one of the fugitives is heading south on Lincoln Place. Also, why do we have a street named after Lincoln? He has a lot of stuff named after him. Why don’t we have a street named after Rutherford B. Hayes?!” She threw her hands up in the air while Jason wished he had more coffee. “He has a wicked name, helped civil service, and basically forged the nation back together after the Civil War! And, he has a super cool beard.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jason mumbled, white-knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, he awkwardly began, “so, I know you're Y/n’s best friend, and all…”

“Hell yeah I am,” Steph agreed, ripping into a protein bar. She was struggling with the wrapper.

“I know you really want her to win this bet,” Jason said, “but could you please–”

“Are you kidding?” The detective wrinkled her nose, cutting him off. “That's the last thing I want! Y/n/n moving in with you is my dream come true. Your apartment is only three blocks away from mine. She’ll be able to pop by any time.” She let out a loud gasp and Jason nearly swerved off the road. Thankfully, all the streets were empty. “Imagine it,” Steph painted a picture, “she’s been having a tough day. She’s fighting with Jason. You know how you bottle things up and act like a typical man. So, she just walks over to my place, brewskis in hand, and we just talk it out. Maybe watch some chick-flicks. Paint out toenails. Invite Cass over and clean our weapons. And by the time girl’s night has finished, you've come to your senses and apologised!”

She grinned at Jason who sighed, “maybe I don't want to win this bet.”

Wayne stood by Damian’s desk, briefing Cass. “We need to figure out whether this crash was an accident or part of a deliberate escape plan,” he said. “Damian, I need you manning the tip line.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cain, there are only two witnesses close enough to the crash to see something. One's on his way already.” Wayne flipped through some papers before presenting, “his name is Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Cass let out a small squeak of excitement, making Bruce raise a brow at the blatant show of emotion. “Leonardo DiCaprio?!” Cass clarified, “Leonardo DiCaprio the famous actor?”

Wayne shrugged and gestured to his notes. “I don't know his frivolous hobbies.”

“We're not getting anything out of him,” Cass declared, crossing her arms. “He doesn’t do many interviews. Admittedly, it could be because of his pedophilia, but you have to admit he tugged on everyone’s heartstrings with Titanic. Whatever the reason,” she explained, “you won’t be able to get anything out of him.”

“Well, it may be tough, and it may take a while, but I'm sure we'll get him to open up.”

“Sir,” Cass smirked, “with all respect, there are some vaults you just can't crack.”

A while later, the famed actor Leonardo DiCaprio sat in Wayne’s office and said bluntly, “I didn’t see anything. I was eating my quesadilla. It was a good one. Chicken, cheese, guac. But they forgot my pico de gallo. Have you ever wondered why they don't make quesadillas with sausage? Or, you could throw some tomato sauce in there and call it a pizza-dilla... What do you think?”

Cass stood there, a pained look on her face. “What is going on?” she grit out.

Leonardo DiCaprio kept talking. “Speaking of tomato sauce, a couple of nights ago, I spilled some on this really nice grey sweater I had while I was watching West Wing. You know, the show that Martin Sheen is in? I feel like no one talks about that show anymore! A total banger, you know. Honestly, with the way everything’s been going, I’d totally vote for President Bartlet right now. Or any of the other characters. Who’s your favourite character? Not a popular opinion, but I love Mrs. Landingham!”

Wayne held up a pleading hand, brows mashed together in pain. “Stop. Stop talking, Leonardo DiCaprio. Did you see anything after the van crashed?” Cass held her head in her hands, wanting to die.

“Nope. Like I told you, I was just eating my quesadilla. Have I talked to you guys about my pizza-dilla invention?”

“Yes, well,” Wayne cleared his throat and stepped towards the door. “I have other matters to attend to. So, Detective Cain, just take down everything Mr. DiCaprio has to say.”

“Captain…”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Y/n announced to the precinct, arms spread wide in victory and a victorious grin on her face. “Please welcome to the precinct… Escaped convict number one!” she sang out. After a small pause, she turned back to Dick who was struggling with the arsonist. “Dick! Where's the music? That was the cue.”

“I didn't have that ABBA song on my phone,” Dick said. “I wasn't gonna pay a dollar ninety-nine for it.”

“How the fuck do you not have every single ABBA song?”

“Nice work, man,” Cass gave Y/n a head nod of approval. “You can put your perp in holding with the other three convicts.”

“Wait. Other three?” Y/n asked.

“Todd and Brown brought them in,” Wayne entered the bullpen, a clipboard in hand.

Jason swung around in his chair, smirking gleefully. “That's right,” he praised himself. “It's three to one!” He held up a flyswatter that he had bought after using too many tissues and shoe soles to kill creepy crawlies at Y/n’s apartment. “Guess I won't be needing this anymore since you'll be moving in with me.”

“The sacred bug killer!” Y/n gasped. “The only thing you said doesn’t make them feel any pain so I don’t need to feel guilty about killing them!”

“Exactly,” Jason said as the other detectives shared a look of ‘how stupid are these two idiots and why do they love each other so much?’ Jason bent the flyswatter which should’ve, with the combined effort of poor manufacturing and Jason’s sheer strength, broken easily.

But it didn’t. Causing Y/n to shout out, “the bug killer lives and so do we! Albeit ironically! Woo!”

An old lady sat nervously at Cass’ desk as Wayne and the detective tried to cross the language barrier and communicate. “Excuse me, ma'am. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the accident you witnessed this morning,” Wayne asked before the woman started speaking a rapid Slavic language.

Cass and Wayne exchanged a glance. “What’s she saying?” Wayne asked.

“The fuck should I know?”

Wayne shook his head with disapproval before sliding a map out of his jacket pocket. “All we have to do is figure out what language she's speaking so we can find a translator. Here, ma'am. Take a look at this map of the world.”

“You just keep one of those on you?” Cass raised her brows.

“Of course. In case I ever need to prove my point in an argument.” The captain turned back to the woman. “So, where are you from? Where did you grow up?” Wayne set the map down and began by cupping a hand up by his shoulder, his other hand making rhythmic pats midair. “Where were you born?” he enunciated.

After a moment of wondering what happened to her life, Cain asked, “what are you miming there, sir?”

“A parent burping a child,” Wayne said simply. “Something you have to do for months after an infant is born. See, you must do this after every feeding, your hand moving up and down the back. This clearly shows a babe, Cain. How clearer could I be?”

Jason and Steph barged into a small convenience store, guns drawn at a man in an orange jumpsuit. “GCPD! Get down!” Steph shouted out. “Freeze!”

The man instantly ran out the back door, knocking over a pile of toilet paper in the process. “This way,” Jason urged. “Come on.” The pair ran after the man only to find Dick cuffing the perp in the adjacent alleyway. “Oh, come on!” Jason grumped. “Where did you guys even come from?”

At that, a loud horn honed twice. The sound came from a large, obnoxious vehicle that had the GCPD logo plastered to the side of it. Y/n poked her head out of the driver’s window, grinning maniacally. “Your nightmares,” she said dramatically. The detective hopped out of the vehicle – which was bigger than a city bus. “Hey, Jay, allow me to introduce you to Big Bertha.” She patted the side of the bus. “Given the magnitude of the situation, we were given full access to any and all department resources.”

At that, Steph groaned, realising what her friend meant. “That's right, y'all!” Y/n crowed. “We went to Homeland Security!” Channelling Vanna White, Y/n showcased Big Bertha. “This beauty comes fully equipped with thermal imaging, a satellite link-up, and she plugs in to every surveillance camera in the city. She's also got a holding cell, which is big enough for three perps!”

Dick piped up, asking, “Y/n, counting this guy, how many perps have we caught and placed in the three-perp perp cell?”

“Well, Sarge, we've placed three perps in the three-perp perp cell,” Y/n replied.

“So, the three-perp perp cell's full?”

“Full of three perps is the three-perp perp cell!”

“Okay, stop saying ‘perps’ and ‘cell’ and ‘three!’” Jason demanded, whipping a hand through the air.

“You sound irritated,” Y/n pouted. “I wonder why. Would it be that, perchance, your darling girlfriend is now beating you by one?” She batted her eyes and gave Jason a coy smile as her and the sergeant climbed back into the bus and drove off.

Bruce Wayne, esteemed captain of the sixty-sixth precinct of Gotham City, was sitting in a chair opposite his Everest. Which was an old European woman. Wayne, Cass, and Tim sat in the break room, the latter with a glazed, coffee-induced look in his eyes. “What are you trying to tell us?” Bruce asked desperately, after the witness had repeated her phrase for the umpteenth time. The woman stood in front of a whiteboard. She drew a circle with numerous smaller circles in it. “Is this some kind of clue?” Wayne pleaded.

The woman repeated her Slavic phrase and Cass groaned. “Draw better!” she commanded. “We have no idea what this is.”

Tim stared at the whiteboard for a long time before mumbling out, “I think it's a cookie. Wait. No. It's a pizza.” He then gasped and slapped his hands to his cheeks with an epiphany. “It's a cookie pizza!”

He stood up, dusting his hands off. “Another case solved.” Marching out the break room, he commented, “really, capitan, I should be getting a raise for how good I am at this.”

“No. Detective,” Wayne stuttered. “We’re not–”

Cass shushed her superior. “Let him go,” she advised.

The old woman exclaimed something else in Slavic and waved the two officers out of the break room and through the bullpen.

“She's taking us somewhere,” Bruce exclaimed, hurriedly following his witness. “This is good. This is good. We're gonna crack this, Cain!”

The woman said something else in her native language, gesturing to Cass and Bruce. She then turned and entered the bathroom.

“Nope,” Cass pressed her lips together into a thin line. “She just needed to take a shit.”

Y/n sat in front of Big Bertha’s computer console. “Satellite images showed one of the two remaining convicts entering this building,” she told Dick who was standing behind her, eating a muffin. “If we catch him,” Y/n continued. “That's five. I win the bet. Jaybird moves in with me. I lord it over him forever. He's miserable. We live happily ever after!” she cheered. “It’s fool-proof!”

Dick shot her a confused look, but decided not to get involved in his detective’s love lives. “But that’s thirty floors of office space for the perp to be hiding,” Dick said.

Y/n typed some things onto the computer and said, “nuh-uh. We can use Big Bertha to tap into the security cameras.”

Soon later, Dick was in the building, gun drawn and bullet-proof vest strapped on. He moved throughout the rooms as Y/n concentrated on the computers inside Big Bertha. She manoeuvred a joystick that moved the security cameras around. Meanwhile, Dick entered a new room. Y/n spoke inside his earpiece, “Okay. This room is clear, but check that closet.” Dick stepped forward and Y/n chuckled. “This is like playing the coolest video game ever! My character is Richard Grayson.”

Dick interrupted her thoughts. “It’s locked,” he declared.

“Ooh, kick it down!” Y/n exclaimed. “Front kick! Front kick!” Dick sighed and did as she dictated. He signalled the all clear and moved onto the next room. Y/n paused and her brows furrowed as the cameras skipped a chunk of the building, leaving her in the blind. “Wait a minute, Sarge. I don't have eyes on that room.” After skipping through a couple more camera angles, her blood ran cold as she saw her sergeant being held by the criminal, a sharp razor to his throat.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Hold on, Grayson. I’m coming for you.”

“Drop the weapon,” Y/n commanded, gun drawn right at the perp’s heart. Unfortunately, the perp was using Dick as a human shield and Y/n struggled to get a clear shot.

“ You drop your weapon,” the criminal countered.

“Okay, hey, stay cool,” Y/n raised her hands. “We can work this out. I’m a trained hostage negotiator. I saved some hostages from my best-criminal-friend when he robbed a bank to save his daughter.”

“L/n!” Dick shouted out, struggling with the criminal to try and keep the blade away from his neck.

“Right. Sorry,” Y/n gritted out. “What do you want?” she asked the man.

“You let me walk out of this building and get into a car,” the perp began. “And if anyone tries to stop me…”

All of a sudden, Jason came out of nowhere and thwacked his baton at the criminal’s legs. The convict cried out, knees buckling and subsequently releasing Dick. Jason was quick to slap some handcuffs onto the man. “Got him,” Jason grunted. He flashed a grin towards his girlfriend and said cockily, “I think that makes it four to four.”

“No. No!” Y/n wagged a finger towards Jason. “You don't get credit for this guy! I was in the middle of negotiating, and he was about to give up... Tell him, guy,” she exclaimed.

The criminal shook his head. “No,” he shrugged. “I was probably gonna kill him, then let you kill me.”

Y/n’s expression dropped, lips parting with shock. “Holy fuck,” she muttered. “I should’ve been way more scared.”

Stephanie took the perp from Jason and began shoving him towards Big Bertha’s holding cell. Jason stepped towards Y/n, brushing a thumb over her cheek. He carefully lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held an undeniable amount of love. “Well, there's just one convict left,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Y/n’s forehead.

With a much more calm and loving voice than the situation called for, Y/n replied softly, “may the best detective win.”

The old European woman finally exited the bathroom and when she saw Bruce and Cass still standing there, she huffed out a sigh. She gestured again for them to follow her, leading them out of the precinct doors. Stopping at a seemingly random place on the sidewalk, she pointed down and repeated her phrase.

The two officers looked down and realisation dawned on their faces. “The sewers,” Cass whispered out. “She saw a perp go into the sewers.”

“Her drawing,” Wayne connected the dots. “It wasn’t a cookie pizza. It was a manhole cover.”

They turned to each other and yelled out the woman’s catchphrase. The old woman slapped her hand on her forehead and said her words again, relief coming over her face.

Soon after, Bruce clicked on his walkie-talkie and called for, “L/n, Todd?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Jason responded immediately.

“Us too, Captain,” Y/n agreed, not one to be forgotten or outdone.

“We have a lead,” Wayne announced. “One of our witnesses saw the last convict, Waylon Jones, the murderer, go down into a manhole and escape into the sewer near the crash site.”

“Copy that,” Jason said firmly. “We're on it.”

“Yeah, so are we,” Y/n added quickly. “We are also on it!” She turned the steering wheel of Big Bertha all the way to the right, but realised that the street was much too marrow. “Back it up a little bit,” she narrated as she threw the bus into reverse. A loud beeping filled Dick’s ears as Y/n was able to reverse the vehicle only a metre or two. “Forward,” Y/n muttered as she pushed Big Bertha forward again. “Back,” she reversed again. “Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. And we’re good to go!” she crowed, barrelling forward and knocking a city mailbox down in the process. “Oop. Almost clipped the mailbox. Heh. Close call.”

At that point, Dick wondered silently what he had done in a past life to deserve this.

In their respective teams, Dick, Y/n, Jason, and Steph all were in the Gotham sewers, each with their nose wrinkled up with disgust. “I can't believe Leonardo lived in this,” Y/n muttered to Dick. “I mean, Michelangelo I get. He's kinda a sloppy dude. But Leo is so fastidious.”

“Y/n, shut up,” Dick commanded.

“Sarge, we're in a sewer,” Y/n scoffed, smirking. “I'm gonna to talk about the Turtles.”

“No, Y/n,” Dick reiterated, “shut up. I hear something.”

The pair turned a corner and came face to face with Waylon Jones. “GCPD!” Y/n yelled out. “Freeze!”

Barely a second later, Jason and Steph came from the other tunnel and Jason shouted, “GCPD! Freeze!”

The lovers shot aghast looks at the other before turning back to Waylon Jones and rapidly reciting his Miranda Rights, “you have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.” Y/n’s eyes flicked over to Jason. His jaw was tense and his muscles were taut as he held his gun. Even though his eyes were narrowed, Y/n knew of the window into his emotions that they were. The hands on his gun held her too, but with such care and softness. And his heart, that was surely beating quickly at the holdup of a convict, beat just for her. He had told her many times when they laid in bed together, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Jason was a cuddly sleeper. It was one thing she loved about him. Another thing she loved was how his bed was pushed against a wall, furthest away from the door. And he had no intention of changing that. When she had complained once about having to crawl over him, he had shut her up with a swift kiss on the lips and the murmured confession that it was because he wanted to be able to protect her from anything that might barge through the door. The rest of her complaints were pushed aside that night when he showed her how much he loved her in his bed.

“You have the right to an attorney,” Jason continued. His gaze shot over to Y/n when he didn’t hear her honeyed voice along with his gruff one. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you…” he trailed off. After a pause, he asked quietly, “why’d you stop?”

“I'm done,” she said simply. “You win.”

“W-what?” Jason stammered.

“I love you,” Y/n smiled up at him. “I wanna move into your apartment.”

“Really?” At Y/n’s confirming nod, Jason’s face broke into a grin. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and hard. “I love you too,” he muttered against her lips.

“Oh, my God, what a beautiful moment,” Steph beamed, interrupting the pair. “Too bad we’re in a sewer…”

Dick shoved Waylon Jones to the three-perp perp cell. “Alright, head to the back. You're going to jail.”

“Hey,” Jason came up and stood behind the driver’s seat where Y/n was guiding Big Bertha back to the precinct. “Why did you decide to let me win?” he asked softly.

“I don't know,” Y/n admitted. “When we were back there, racing through the Miranda Rights, I just looked over at you and thought, ‘you're awesome. And you're utterly fantastic at doing things.’”

“Are you sure about this?” Jason whispered. “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to. I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/n waved his concerns away. “Your apartment is better than mine in every way imaginable. You wanna know what my first thought was when we dropped into the sewer? ‘Smells like home.’”

“She's lying, Jason,” Dick called from the back. “Her first thought was about the Ninja Turtles.”

Jason scoffed and shot Dick an incredulous look. “Come on, Grayson. We were in a sewer. She's gonna think about the Turtles.”

“Yeah!” Y/n exclaimed, beaming at her boyfriend. “I'm gonna, Grayson!”

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #slow burn

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sports-on-sundays · 9 months ago

Text

our tree / CL16

Summary: Charles x childhood friend!reader - Another little idea.

Warnings: four time skips, little kiss scene, kind of melancholy at the end

Requested?: Take a wild guess.

Author's Note: I hope you read and enjoy, because I'm super proud of this one! 🥹🥹🥹. I actually think I was reading a fantasy book when this one came on me strangely enough.

"Alright, well, make sure to stay together! And stay in the orchard!" your mother called as you and your friend rushed out the door, running to get out the moment your mother said it was okay.

"Okay, Mama!" you called back, slamming the screen door behind you. You and your friend, a light haired boy with bright eyes and the name of Charles, ran together, racing each other automatically, without even establishing it, both of you just being very competitive kids.

Yes, Charles was a competitive kid, alright. Everyone knew that much. Definitely probably more competitive than you, but that wasn't very hard. Charles was more competitive than most people.

The young boy was running so fast, trying to beat you, that he tripped, falling right on his little chubby face. "Charlie!" you gasped, bending down next to your friend. But then you scolded, "Charlie, you gotta be more careful. Remember what Mama told us?"

Charles looked up slowly. He had a little scratch on his cheek and a mark of dirt across his forehead. His bottom lip curved forward for a moment, before he sucked it back, sniffing, refusing to cry. "I'm okay," he assured, pushing himself back up to stand.

"Are you sure?" you asked nervously.

"Of course," the little boy said, brushing himself off, still pouting a little. But he raised his hand to wipe his eyes and continued on.

You frowned. "Your knees are all scraped up. Maybe we should go back to the house..."

"No!" Charles frowned right back. "Come on. I'm okay." He showed his little toothy grin, which wasn't full, as he had a few gaps in his mouth where adult teeth would soon grow in. He held his hand out to you.

You took his little hand in your little hand and said with a little pout, "As long as we just walk now."

"You sound like my mama now!" he groaned, but agreed to it.

The two little kids walked along, until they reached the bottom of the hill that your house stood on and got to the little dirt path that led through the apple trees.

"Can I show my favorite tree, Charlie?"

His tiny little cute nose crinkled up as he asked, "How could you have a- a fav- favorite tree?" At that point, you were much more fluent in your speech than Charles, so some of the bigger words you could say just fine, he struggled with.

You grinned. "Come with me, and I'll show you." You tugged him by his hand, leading him through the orchard, until finally, you reached your tree.

It was tall with spindly dark branches and the biggest, reddest, juiciest apples you'd ever seen. There was a little crevice under it where you fit perfectly, and it's old frame provided a large area of shade.

It felt like a magical tree, and as Charles's big hazel eyes looked up at it, you could tell he saw it, too.

"Can I have an apple off it?" the young boy asked boldly.

You nodded and went to the truck, being, at that time, the taller of the two of you. You slipped your foot in the perfect slot in the tree and hoisted yourself up. You climbed a bit as Charles watched you, picked a big, red, ripe apple out of the tree, and tossed it down to Charles. He caught it and was about to take a big bite out of it, before you said, "Wait a second, Charlie!"

He looked up. "Huh?"

You climbed back down and hopped on the ground, grinning. "Do you know how to clean an apple? Make it super shiny?"

Charles frowned, perplexed. "Without water? No."

You grinned proudly and rubbed your apple on your shirt all around, saying, "It works."

He stared a few seconds, before trying it. "I don't know..." he began, studying the apple.

"Either way, it makes it taste better. That's what my papa told me."

"Alright... can I eat it now?"

You giggled and nodded. "Yeah."

You watched as he took a bite out of it, and his eyes lit up. Apple juice ran down his chin as he exclaimed, "You're right! This is the best apple ever."

You grinned. "See? It's my favorite tree."

He beamed back. "It's mine, too," he responded, avoiding having to say 'favorite' again.

About ten years later

"Y/n!" your mother had called one day from the downstairs floor. "Charles is here!"

You hopped out of your bed as soon as you heard that, slipping on your vest, boots, and backwards cap, before heading down the stairs and went to the door.

There was Charles. You couldn't help but smile when you saw the handsome teenage boy, with his dimples and sparkling eyes. "Hey, Charles. It's been a while."

He shrugged a bit. "I've been really busy with racing and stuff..."

He awkwardly glanced away, so you asked, "Well, do you want to go for a walk in the orchard? I mean, if you have time, of course."

He smiled brightly at that. "Yeah. I'd like that."

You exited the house together, letting the screen door slam behind you. You walked down the hill in silence, but once your feet reached the dirt path through the apple trees, Charles muttered, "I've kind of missed you, a lot. And this orchard. I mean, I don't know. As kids, we used to always play in this orchard. We spent hours here. You know?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Totally... Sometimes, I'm sad I'm growing up. Like, I remember when we were little, and nothing was weird and it all felt normal. We were just happy to have fun."

Charles nodded, seeming slightly relieved that you seemed to think the same way as him. "Yeah. I feel the same way."

As you walked, suddenly your hands brushed each other, and both of you felt your faces heat up as you avoided each other's eyes and were more aware to keep your hands to yourselves.

"So... Is your favorite tree still standing?" Charles asked softly.

You grinned. "Of course it is. Charles, that tree will never fall."

He grinned back at this response and said, "So I'm assuming the apples are still good as ever?"

"For sure. Want one? We can go down to it."

Charles grinned even wider at this and said, "Yeah, let's go."

When you reached the tree, you stood on your tip toes, trying to reach an apple to pick for Charles, but suddenly he laughed, saying teasingly, "Here, I'll get it." He grinned and reached up, easily picking the apple. He looked down at you with a smirk. "Now I'm taller than you, huh? You used to be the taller one."

You rolled your eyes. "Charles, boys always get taller than girls in the end."

He shrugged and commented teasingly, "Should I rub it on my shirt? Does that clean it off?"

You blushed, glancing away, feeling embarrassed butterflies in your stomach at his little teasing. "No, no. That's just a stupid little thing."

He chuckled more and took a bite, shutting his eyes, savoring the sweet taste. "Just as good as I remember it," he commented with a grin.

You smiled, kind of nervous to ask this, but said softly, "Uh... Can you pick one for me?"

He grinned. He loved to be able to help you, and immediately picked one for you. You stood by the big tree, eating your apples, before Charles finally said, sounding more tense than before, "Hey, uh... Y/n? Can I say something kind of weird to you? Like, I mean, serious stuff, now..."

You blinked, looking up at him with a concerned look in your eyes. "What is it?"

He sighed and gestured for you to sit down under the tree together. So you sat side by side in the shade, and he murmured, "So... I just wanted to say sorry."

"For what?" you asked in surprise.

"I don't know. With all my racing, we never get to see each other anymore. But I think about you a lot..." He trailed off, avoiding your eyes as his cheeks flushed. "Like, you're on my mind a lot, I mean."

You nod slowly. "I think about you a lot, too..."

He swallowed and muttered, "I know this probably won't mean much in the end, but... I think I kind of like you."

Your head shot up, your eyes wide. "You... Like, like like?"

"Yeah. Like, really like. A lot. More than..."

"More than friends?"

"More than friends," he confirmed, nervously fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie.

You glanced up at each other at the same time. And Charles, without another thought, leaned in and gave you an awkward kiss on your cheek.

Your whole faces flushed as Charles blurted, "Sor- Sorry."

"It's... It's okay," you murmured in embarrassment. "I feel the same way, too, I think..."

About ten years later; current time

Your mother slams open the screen door with a big smile on her face, saying, "What a surprise this is! Look at this- my daughter and son-in-law!"

Charles chuckles a bit, letting go of your hand as you go to hug your mother as he says, "Not son-in-law yet."

"Yes, yes, Charles," your mother says quickly, as if it's clearly obvious the two of you are going to marry each other anyway, so he's basically already her son-in-law. "So," she turns to you with a big smile. "What made you decide to just show up all of the sudden?"

You shrug with a smile, looking back to Charles. After hugging your mother, you connect your hand right away back with Charles's. "The other night we were just kind of thinking about, you know. The old days. Playing in the orchard. And my favorite tree, and everything. And we figured, why not make the trip here to go for a walk through it again?"

"Oh, and not even to see your mother!" she scoffs with a playful smile, saying, "Come here, Charles. I haven't seen you in quite a while." Charles laughs and gives your mother a little hug as well.

"Mama," you say with a little smile. "Do you mind if me and Charles just go for a walk in the orchard? Then we'll be right back to the house to visit?"

She smiles understandingly, and nods. "Yeah, you two go on. And take your time," she says with a wink, "because maybe once you get back, the apple pie I'm making will be ready."

You grin and say, "Let's go! Your pie is the best!"

Charles laughs, entwining his fingers in yours, saying, "Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n. We'll see you in a bit." He waves as we begin walking down the hill together, swinging our connected hands a little as we walk.

It has rained recently, though, so the ground down the hill is a little slick. So suddenly, your foot slides forward, and you squeal, bracing yourself to feel your bottom hit the ground hard-

But Charles's hands are there, on your back and the bottoms of your thighs. He says with a chuckle, "I've got you." He pulls you up and links his arm with you to steady you more as you finish walking down the hill.

When you make it to the path, neither of you guide the other toward your tree, because now, after all these years, you both know exactly how to get there.

You're not sure when 'Y/n's tree' became 'Y/n and Charles's tree', but either way, you like that it's kind of like both of yours now.

When you reach it, Charles immediately reaches up to pick out two of the best apples on the tree. You sit down together under the shade, not caring if your bums get a little wet, and Charles eyes you teasingly as he begins rubbing it on his shirt.

You chuckle. "It does make it more shiny."

"Rubs the dirt off," he comments, taking a bite out of it.

You sit together, eating your apples. Charles has his arm around your back, and you lean against his shoulder. Once you're both finished, Charles comments, "Taste of my childhood."

You grin. "It's just an apple."

"No, but the apples from our magical tree don't just taste like any ordinary apples, and you've always known that."

You chuckle a little. "Good point." You love that little childish side of him.

After a few moment of silence, Charles says softly, "Do you think we have a few minutes to spare before we start walking back up to the house for some of that apple pie?"

You shrug. "Probably. Why?"

He leans in closer and says softly, "Because I wouldn't mind licking some of that apple juice off your sweet lips."

You giggle a little, rolling your eyes, but shift closer to him.

With one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer, he presses his lips against yours in a heated French kiss. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth. When he finally pulls away, there's a hungry look in his eyes, and he doesn't even seem to realize the string of saliva connecting your mouths.

You let out a little breathy gasp, murmuring (and admittedly probably ruining the moment a bit), "Ew..." as you wipe your mouth to break the trail of saliva between the two of you.

He chuckles a bit and murmurs, "You're adorable. You know that? I just want to have you all to myself. Do what I want to do to y-"

"Hey, hey..." you giggle, patting his thigh a little. "Can't get too carried away, can we? We've got pie to get to eating inside."

"Right," he smiles, taking your hand and standing up with you.

"But maybe when we get home. How does that sound?"

He nods, bringing you closer to himself. "That sounds good. I look forward to it."

About ten years later (warning: just chose a random name for the girl)

You slam open the screen door, holding your little toddler in your arms, saying, "Say bye bye to Grandmama."

Your mother laughs as your daughter waves her chubby little fist and says, "Bye, bye, G'andmama..."

You walk outside onto the porch, where Charles is already standing, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking out at the orchard.

You smile, putting a hand on his back. "Want to take Viola out for a walk in the orchard? Would you like that, sweetie?" you add, looking to the little girl.

"Yes!" squeals the baby, squirming to be put down.

You set her down on the porch, and Charles takes her little hand with a smile. You take her other hand, and the three of you begin walking down the hill together.

Halfway down, Viola slips, but both your hands holding hers keeps her from falling. Charles chuckles and says, "Be careful, sweetheart."

She just giggles, tugging her parents toward the little dirt path at the bottom of the hill. When you reach the bottom, Charles says gently, "Want to see me and Mama's favorite tree, Viola? It grows the best apples in the world."

You laugh as your daughter looks up at her father with big, wide hazel eyes- same as her father's. "The best?"

"Oh, yeah. You won't want to eat any other apples, ever again, after you try these."

You smile. "I grabbed a knife before we left to cut it up for her."

Charles smiles, giving you a little kiss on your cheek as you hand him the knife. "Good idea. You're so thoughtful. And considerable. I wouldn't ever had thought to do that."

"Mama! Papa! C'mon!" your baby whines, and you both laugh, following the toddling little girl down the little dirt path of both your childhoods.

When you reach the tree, this time, Charles reaches up and picks three apples. "It's kind of a magical tree, isn't it, Viola?" he asks with a little smile as he hands you an apple.

But she doesn't respond, and instead stares at Charles in slightly disturbed confusion.

You chuckle, looking to see Charles rubbing the apple on his shirt. He laughs and explains, "It makes the apple shiny, Viola."

"Really?" she asks with wide eyes.

"For sure," Charles respond, exchanging a little look with you. Then you and Charles sit down together under the tree, and your daughter comes over and climbs on Charles's lap, watching as he cuts some thin slices off Viola's apple. "Here," he says, handing one to the little girl.

Her eyes widen even further when she tastes the sweet fruit, and she giggles, "The best!"

"I know!" Charles grins excited, ruffling her hair a bit, which is the color of your hair.

You smile, leaning against his shoulder, watching as your daughter in his lap raves and giggles about the apple.

And, then, Charles starts talking.

He talks about how he used to play with you all the time when you were little.

He tells his daughter how when he was a younger teenager, he began to fall in love with you, but with all his racing, he couldn't see you much and come to the orchard.

He tells her how when he was an older teenager, he confessed how he felt to you.

And how after that, you and him got closer and closer.

Until years later, you had your wedding.

And now here she is, your little girl.

You swallow, suddenly feeling emotional about the story. The story of your lives together.

"Papa...?" Viola says, concerned. "How come Mama...?" she trails off.

Charles looks at you and smiles. "Are you crying, baby?" he teases softly, wiping a tear from your cheek.

You chuckle. "I guess I just like to hear you telling the story."

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, murmuring, "I love you."

You lean into him further with a little smile and shut your eyes, listening as Charles and your daughter continue babbling softly with each other.

Here, in the shade of your tree.

Our tree.

Someday, your daughter will show her friends your tree. And that screen door will never stopped being slammed shut.

But someday after that, you and Charles will grow older, together. Your tree won't always be there. Someday, you'll eat the last of it's apples, and it will say farewell to this world, just like everything else does.

But by then, your love won't need something to symbolize it in order to stay alive.

Because love is the one thing that will never end.

It goes on forever.

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find-roronoa-zoro · 9 months ago

Text

Zoro X CisFem Reader

It had been a long time since you'd even visited your home town. College and then running one of the foreign branches of the family business kept you away and plenty busy. Recently your adopted father was diagnosed with cancer and the family decided it would be best to send a trusted friend to take over your branch while you moved back home with your brothers to help take care of the old man. It was extremely hard for you to accept that he wouldn't be around forever, and you were only in your early thirties, too young to say goodbye to your only parent.

Stepping off the train platform your eyes combed the small crowd awaiting arrivals until you spotted a familiar tuft of blond hair. His lopsided smile grew when he caught sight of you.

"My twin!" you called wrapping your arms around his neck.

You weren't actually twins or even related by blood, but you were close in age and your birthdays were in the same month, so they were always celebrated together. You'd known Marco since the orphanage, he refused to be separated from you which deterred a lot of potential parents until Pops came along.

"I missed you too, yoi." he murmured returning your embrace, "Are you ready to see the babies?""Yes!" you practically squealed, "I can't believe they are all men now."

'The babies' was an annoying term of endearment you had for your three younger brothers. They hated it, so of course it stuck.

"Luffy just started second year at uni, Sabo aims to graduate in December and well you know Ace wasn't cut out for school, so he's been helping Thatch and I run things." the blond explained ushering you into his truck.

"I'm so excited to see everyone." you breathed, "How's Pops?"

"He has good days and bad days, yoi," he glanced at you with a soft smile, "today's a good day."

It was just a fifteen-minute drive to the house you more or less grew up in. The willows that lined the long driveway had gotten fuller in the time you'd been away, and the breeze here always seemed sweeter.

"I'll grab your bags, you can head inside, yoi." Marco instructed.

You hopped out of the truck and made your way up the path that led to the from porch. A mixture of excitement and nerves churned in your gut. You were ready to be reunited with your family but also nervous to see what state your father might be in.

Before you could even get to the first step the screen door burst open slamming against the side of the house as your youngest brother threw himself at you.

"F/N!" he cried tackling you to the ground.

"Oi Luffy!" another voice called from the house.

It was too late of course, you were flat on your back with your little brother wrapped around your torso.

"You could have seriously hurt her. F/N is no spring chicken ya know." Ace scolded pulling the youngest away from you.

"You really shouldn't point out a lady's age Ace." Sabo added sauntering up to help you off the ground.

"My babies!" you squealed grabbing all three males.

Ace and Sabo groaned hugging you back stiffly while Luffy chuckled and nuzzled into you.

They hadn't changed one bit.

"Quit hogging F/N!" you heard Thatch call from the porch.

No one made you feel as loved as this group of idiots. You released the younger brothers and bounced up the steps to the brunette.

"It's so good to see you. How many years has it been?" he stepped back to look you over.

"Eight." you replied sheepishly, "Sorry it took so long."

"You're a busy woman, don't worry about it." he opened the door for you.

"Do I hear my lovely daughter?" your father's deep voice rumbled through the house.

"The one and only!" you chimed back making your way to the den where he spent most of his time.

Pops sat in his big leather armchair situated so he could see the entire room, including the perfect view of the back yard through the large bay windows that lined the wall in front of him. He smiled so wide the corners of his eyes crinkled as you entered the room. You let out a soft sigh, relieved that he didn't look as ragged as you'd imagined.

"Well don't you look handsome." you smiled leaning in to kiss his cheek.

A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, "Too kind as always lass."

"How are you feeling?" your eyes trailed down the oxygen tubes resting above his snow-white mustache.

"Good enough to give these lads a good whooping if needed." his huge callused hand moved over yours.

You sat with Pops in the den catching up until the sun went down. Most topics were light, memories of your childhood, comparing your younger brother's antics to you, Thatch and Marco.

"So tell me F/N, when do you intend to settle down and give me some grandchildren?"

You frowned.

"C'mon old man. I know you wouldn't be having this conversation with Thatch or Marco."

"Only because no one will want kids with those brats."

"We can hear you, old fart." Marco called passing by.

"I wasn't trying to hide it." Pops called back and turned to you, "You know I won't be around forever and I'd like to see you happy."

"I am happy." you pouted.

"You know what I mean, lass." he tipped your chin up to meet his golden gaze, "I know Shanks will be excited to see you've returned."

"Awe come on Pop's," you groaned, "I'm not going back to that drunken man-child."

"He was the best boyfriend you ever had." Ace commented from the doorway.

"And the coolest!" Luffy added.

"I hate all of you." you grumbled.

________________

Red: Running late!

You groaned staring down at your phone, how very like him.

Red: I can't wait to see you!

Red: ... Please actually wait for me this time.

Me: Just this once and only because you're paying

Red: That's my girl

Me: not your girl sir

With that you slipped your phone into your back pocket and entered the pub. It was rowdy but not too loud. You scanned the room for a comfortable place to wait for your idiot date. Your eyes stopped abruptly at the bar, breath halting as you made very brief eye contact with the most gorgeous specimen the gods had possibly created. Messy green hair complimented his tanned complexion and chestnut iris. A scar cut through his beauty (and left eye) only adding a rugged finesse you were positive no one else could pull off. Before you knew it, you'd floated right up to the counter waiting quietly as other customers stole his attention.

He turned back intending to take your order, right eye widening a fraction as his gaze swayed over your face.

A slight blush adorning his cheeks he cleared his throat, "What can I get ya?"

#The One #zoro roronoa x reader #x reader #one piece #fem reader #slow burn #white beard #shanks

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lovelyrocker · 7 months ago

Text

Pool Girl part 10

-RPF

-Warnings: Nervousness, Talk About Sex, FLUFF

-Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader

-Pairings: Timothee x Reader

-Word Count: 1,548

-UnBeta'd

One date turned into another, then another and another. They weren’t fancy. Picnics and burger joints. Walking in the park, ice cream and coffee shops. They hung out even when they weren’t on dates. She would go over to Timothee’s and they would sit by the pool and sip beer or whatever he had in his wine cellar.

“How would you feel about formally meeting my friends?” Timothee asked next to the pool.

“Your friends that think I’m a gold digger?”

“They don’t think you’re a gold digger.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

Timothee smirked. “Maybe if you would stop eavesdropping at the gate and actually come in instead of leaving when you hear the voice of someone who isn’t me.”

She gave a sigh. “I won’t get along with your friends. I know that.”

“How will you know if you don’t try?” He taps the underneath of her chin with his finger, making her smile. “I want them to meet my girl.”

“Oh, I’m your girl now?!” She said with added expression. “When did that happen?!”

“When you kept accepting my dates and kissing me.” He smiled proudly.

“We’ve never even had sex.”

“We don’t need to be sleeping together for you to be my girlfriend. Besides, I think the longer we wait the better it will be.”

“How so?”

“The build up and it actually means something. The more we wait the more we actually get to like one another and the better the sex.”

“I’ll agree with you on that one.”

“So?” He leans forward. “Whaddaya say?” He presses a kiss to her lips. “Meet my friends?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

He watches her as she sits there, watching the water, lit up by the lights in the pool. “Stay the night.”

“What?!” She laughed out, shocked at his question.

“I want you to spend the night. No sex, just my company.”

“Are you serious?”

Timothee shrugs. “Why not?”

She looks at him. “I- I- I don't have a reason.”

“It’s late, I know you’re exhausted. I know you keep extra clothes on the truck. We can order some Chinese and watch some movies till we fall asleep cuddled on the couch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His smile grew.

“Yes.” She smiled.

He stands. “Go get your clothes, I’ll go order food. You’ll have time to shower before it gets here.”

Y/N ran out to the work truck, grabbed her bag of clothes and locked the truck. She walked back up to the house and she could see Timothee through the huge glass windows setting up the living room, Apple TV loading on the screen. She smiled watching him fluff the pillows.

She walked in, Timothee turning to her with a smile. “Come on, I‘ll show you the bathroom.”

He led her upstairs. She looked over the newer parts of his house she’d never seen before. It was white, natural colors with bright whimsical paintings and art on the walls. It showed his different styles.

“This is my room. You can use my bathroom.” His cheeks reddened slightly, which she thought was adorable.

“Your bed is huge.”

“I like to roll around a lot.”

“Oh yeah?!” She raised her brows and his face dropped.

“Not- Not like that! I just mean-” She silenced him with her lips on his.

“Relax.” She whispered into his lips. “I’ll be out in a bit.” She backed away into the bathroom.

She stood in the wide shower with the rainfall showerhead. The glass walls of the shower quickly steamed up as she showered. His body wash smelled like him. Not too strong of sandalwood and a dash of mint. The shampoo was vanilla and ginger.

She smiled as she showered. She had a small level of nerves settling in her and she wasn’t sure why. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in the large fluffy white towel. It smelled of fresh linen. Looking at the marble lavatory she saw a fancy dish set up with cologne. She picked up the Bleu de Chanel bottle and gave it a sniff. It was the same one he had on now.

She put on her panties and smirked, going into his closet, picking out a t-shirt, slipping it on with her pajama shorts beneath. Wiping the mirror she looked at herself in the mirror, his shirt baggy on her. She shook her head with a laugh at how he liked his clothes oversized.

She walked down stairs, Timothee putting the food out on the table in the living room in front of the couch. He glanced back and did a double take. A smirk was immediate on his face.

“Nice shirt.”

“I figured, why not.”

He stands and slowly walks over to her. Slipping his hand gently around her waist he pulls her to him and presses his lips to hers. Parting his lips slightly he deepens the kiss just a little more before pulling away.

“It looks good on you.” His smirk is devilish and she loves it.

They sit on the couch and put on some random ass TV show about underground fight clubs and dig into the food. He was surprised how much she got into such a violent show. He laughed at her reactions to the blood and violence.

“Okay,” He stood. “I’m going jump in the shower. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I’ll clean this up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s the least I can do.” She tells him with the take out boxes in her hands.

Y/N cleans up the mess and wipes down the counter and table in the living room. Standing in the kitchen she was flipping through her phone when she saw Timothee walking down the stairs across the house. She did a double take and froze. He walked into the office in a pair of gray jogging pants completely shirtless, hair damp. She watched as his muscles flexed across his body when he leaned over the computer that the security system was on. For such a slim body he was extremely muscular.

He walked out of the office and paused in the kitchen. “Are you ready for another episode or do you want to watch a movie?”

“I- uh-” She stuttered as if she suddenly went dumb. “Y-yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She giggled as she walked past him.

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back against him. “Liar.” He gripped her hips. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” She played dumb.

“You staring.” He kissed her cheek. “Do you want me to put a shirt on? So I'm not so distracting.” She shook her head no. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.” He backs away and smacks her rear.

She follows him into the living room and onto the couch. “Let's find a movie.”

“Action, horror?” He asks as he lays across the couch, Y/N cuddling into his side between him and the couch.

“Romance.”

“I got you covered.” He pulls up the romantic movie section and they settle on a movie.

It’s a comfortable setting. They are relaxed with each other and it’s easy flow of conversation and movements between them. Little kisses and playful touches. Timothee found more confidence with her and let his hands drift lower on her hips and thighs, letting his hand come to rest on her bottom as they watched the movie.

After a while he noticed she wasn’t talking anymore, and she’d stopped drawing shapes on his stomach. He looked down and she was asleep on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rested his head on top of hers for a moment before sliding out from beneath her. He walked to the back door, locking in. The loud clack of the top lock woke her. He looked back seeing her wiping her eyes, sitting up on the couch.

“Sorry.” Timothee walked back over to the couch. “I didn’t think it was gonna wake you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Come on,” He took her hand. “Let’s go upstairs”

She followed him, her hand in his, pausing here and there as he shut off lights on the way to his bedroom. She had a sudden surge of nerves as she watched him shut the bedroom door and pull down the covers.

“You can sleep on whichever side you want.” He told her, shutting the curtains.”Do you want a light? I can leave-”

“No, that’s- it’s fine.” She tells him, climbing into bed.

He shuts off the lights and all that’s left is the lamp next to the bed on his side. He scoots closer to her.

“Tell me, do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” He smirks at her.

“What?” He giggled.

“Little spoon it is.” He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

“Oh! I get it now.” She laughed. “This is good.”

Laying her head on the pillow she felt Timothee shut the light off and pull her a little closer.

“You smell like strawberries.” He comments.

“I had lotion in my bag.”

He buries his face into her neck and inhales deeply. He settles in behind her and it literally takes minutes before they are both asleep.

#timothee chalamet #timothée #timothée chalamet #chalamet #timothee #rpf #reader #reader insert #Pool Girl #part 10

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istherewifiinhell · 9 months ago

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okayyyy also. tagged by @joelletwo for 5 topics i could talk about for an hour with no prep.

now. two things. 1. i have infernal podcast dude energy and could say a lot about nothing. weird trait to have if u dont like talking to people? hard to say. 2. GESTURES AT BLOG. im ALREADY. talking at length abt my beloved shit. so im just ruling out turtles, alien robots, trek, etcetcetc all the shit thats been a main blog topic for the last past. 4 years?

I'm gonna say.... western voice actors? not that i could really. Give a lecture so much as. I'm way more familiar with them that than I am live action actors. And I'm kinda just CONSTANTLY like. Oh you know so and so from every cartoon youve ever fucking seen? And FEEL a real. gap. with people when they dont have a same reference point. probably like how ppl feel with me when i dont know their acting guys jhadbgjfga. Like u can name 5 VAs from ur childhood cartoons/animated movies right? And personal interest like, hey btw u know like the entire cast of tng was in disneys gargoyles? U know keith david can SING? And diego luna? Hey you know about Canadian actors who are in all the dubs and video games and yeah cheap shit? You know Scott McNeil right? You know Ian James Corlett? You know. THE IAN. of being Ian. Hello. is this thing still on?

I really like and care about the topics of education, children's rights and pedagogy? Not academically so much as, personal interest. What seeing very clearly that there was a lot of arbitrary rules that involved things like. The Government. and Systems. as a child does to a motherfucker I guess? I'm always INTERESTED in a discussion about it, is how i mean I guess. Like focuses of multiple intelligence and "applied knowledge" (and short comings there of). I mean long and short of it. Kids are full human beings and until u can grapple with that their feelings and opinions um. Actually matter. I hate you? jdhbgjhdb. And Naturally the world being good for kids has the prerequisite of it not sucking ass for adults too....

UHhhh guh. User design/civil engineering? You'll hear it from me until the day I die, crushed under the tires of a ford f1 giga truck with the LED 20million watt bulbs. PROTECTED BIKE LANES. for the love of god. I just know a lot of designers I guess and like engineering, conceptually. But like, u know that famous bridge everyone crashes into. If theres 80million warning signs and people are still crashing... maybe theres. other factors. Or you know ofc like, traffic planning, vehicle accidents, structural disasters. A lot of them are not just. Things happening. Tragedies. There's politics there. Usually a lot of Money stuff. and structural racism. The real reason your fridge is full is that there's a bunch of half empty condiment jars hiding all your forgotten left overs. And widening the roads isnt gonna do shit for traffic.

Jackass entry: Themes and motifs of anyyytthing ive watched with another person or saw, and like they also know it. I realllly like, visual theming and narrative shorthands. Anything that breaks like, maybe people in this setting dont have the same customs, but their gonna do something so you the audience can recognize it. Non literal/accurate use of colour and lighting, for mood and clarity. Breaking the physical shape and scale of things so they can appear and be readable on screen. COSTUMING COSTUMING COSTUMING. A well styled character can do soooo much for your understanding of a work, especially with large casts, and a poorly styled one can take me right out. Well. anyway. yes i love animation u all knew that.

uhhhhh Thatgamecompany/giantsquids studio. im giving myself a free space. lol technically I DO. blog about this. the music. at least. BUT beloved. games. Me and everyone else I guess. Hey speaking of u know its laura bailey and troy baker as the voices in the pathless? And you know how a lot of the games have themes of coming into being/growing/rebirth. And LOTS of environmentalism. And implied cultural world building, and wordless stories. and beautiful metaphor rich otherworldly visuals. and gameplay styles that really connect with the emotional story their going for. and ofc, the music. oh the leit motifs. well. there u go. sword of the sea when?

tagginggg. uh did anyone get @deadgrantaires or @army-of-bee-assassins yet? anyone elseeee who wants to regale me with things they knowww about. id love to know.

#some shit #KINDA. gave up. cause i hampered myself with the restriction not my fandoms. jadgbdhf BUT YALL ALREADY KNOWWWWW i could take u thru #my fav mirage issues or like. my favourite implications of tf stuff.#like. all the things i like to watch and like. this is a story about familys. or rebellion. or why people care about each other.#why its important to keep living. and everything iver ever blogged about. lmao #i also skipped on things like. cool machinery i like or how products are WORSE now days. even tho. djjhdbfj. if i have to talk to a #less known person i would consider those like. safety topics. dgjhdf #if u wanted to be really vague i could to a tangential daisy chain all themed around the colour blue. ofc.

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mountaindmned · 2 months ago

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hc+ i can't sum this up in one word but could you talk about what happened to Jack's right eye (i think it's that one?- the one that's very clearly cloudy and blind) [ @wxshingtcns ]

-- Hannah had a new pair of glasses, paid for by the flame scar on her arm. (bloody, shaking after her first kill, Jack had given her a bit of leather and taken his knife out, here bite down on this)

"What's the..." Her bandaged arm gestured to her right eye. Her eyes sparked in the fireplace glow. (They'd moved into the cabin this winter, she hadn't asked about the bunk beds yet...)

Jack barked out a small laugh. He sipped his whisky.

"Same as every other scar. I saved someone."

---

They'd settled into a routine, the Fiddlers and the Greers. Gramps would pretend he didn't know about the kids sneaking down the mountain in Sky's truck. The kids would all pile into Kira and Matthew's bedrooms. The boys all clustered on Matthews floor like, well, a pack of dogs.

Jack woke to a tree limb snapping. The weight of responsibility settled back in his shoulders. The oldest, he and Hawk cursed by being blood tied to the first of the Mad Dogs.

Hawk has heard it too. They whistled across the house:

prey?

yes.

Jack shook Sky awake. The rest of the pack all stirred. Immediately awake, deadly silent. They moved to the door -- Sky would wake up the Greer parents. Bluebird would get the pack back outside, pass out shotguns.

Gramps had told them, if they were going to go down the mountain so often, they had to be ready. So they'd planned it all out. Entrances, edits, the "I'm sorry but the legends are not only true but they're banging on the screen door" speech to Jessica and Sarah.

Jack scrambled to the bed where Matthew slept. Put a hand over Matthew's mouth. Woke him up.

Matthew nodded and sat up.

"Go get Kira and run towards the truck." He whispered. Kissed Matthew's hand.

Sarah refused to run. She was no stranger to war, to a scrap with low odds. She'd racked her shotgun and joined the teens all in the backyard. Jessica sat in the driver's seat of the truck, ready to flee.

The forest glowed uranium green, Madhee was a black scar against the sky.

"Steady!" Hawk called.

The trees rattled with a death howl.

Jack stood to the side with a burning stick. Held it over a wet patch in the grass.

Hawk shut her eyes. Tilted her face up towards the wind. Prayed the winds would blow in their favor tonight. Her hair whipped around her face.

The trees shook again. Closer. Closer.

Jack adjusted his grip on the stick.

The artillery line all inhaled and exhaled as one. Fingers flexed around seven shotgun barrels.

The creature crept closer. It's skeletal glow, it's quick jerking movements. It stepped into the backyard, short work of the chain link fence.

It crept up towards Jack. A screech towards the sky. Jack held his breath. Hawk glanced back at Sarah, made sure she was still.

Closer. Closer. Jack stayed relaxed-- that was the truck, it was easier to stay still if you relaxed. Most people tensed, muscles screaming and complaining.

It stepped into the large pool of gasoline. It was close enough, Jack could feel the tingle of radiation off his skin. His orange eyes reflected back the green glow, turning a deathly grey.

Hawk whistled. It cut through the night. Clear and sharp.

Jack dropped the stick into the gasoline. The guns exploded. Flames and noise and screeching--

Pain in his right eye. Warm blood dripping out. The truck roared to life and the creature turned towards the bright white lights.

Hawk led the gunmen to defend the truck. A few strides to the left, situated between the truck and the prey.

Jack knelt in the grass, tried to push away the panic at the new sensation. His eye was moving but it was dripping, oozing down his cheek. Couldn't see out of it.

Everyone was in trouble. Damn his eye. He pushed himself to his feet and ran for the truck.

Matthew and Kira stared at him as Jessica backed out of the drive. A dreadful thought: was this goodbye?

No more horror movies, no more pies, no more lake trips--

The creature leapt on the truck, snarling and hissing. The three Greers all crouched under the seats as gunshots rang out and claws cracked the glass.

Matthew, Matthew, Matthew--

No time for sentimentality. Jack leapt at the prey. The pine-tar torch was still lit. Hawk nodded. Ran forward and clasped her hands against her knee.

Jack leapt and Hawk lifted him into the air. Jack gripped the creature around the neck. Jammed the torch into the prey's eye as FUCKING PAYBACK!

The pack all whooped. The creature screamed. It staggered and slowly fell against the front hood. Jack kicked off. Bluebird and Hawk helped him as he stumbled off the tailgate of the truck.

Everything froze for a while. A few heartbeats. Making sure it was actually dead.

The green glow faded. The flames crackled in the grass.

Jack opened the truck door.

Matthew clung to Jack's Carhartt with shaking hand, the other hand gripping Kira tight to his chest to protect her.

Jessica was--

Kira was covered in her blood.

Matthew howled.

Sarah screamed and Hawk had to wrestle the gun away, keep her from shooting the pack. She went down with a thud as three feral teens clawed at her and gently, oh so carefully, lowered her onto the grass. Hawk held both guns and Sky checked her pulse.

Jack stood there, numb. "I'm sorry for your loss." He heard himself say it like Gramps did. Worn and tired. Only half meaning it. He wished he meant it more, Jessica was his family too. But he was coming off a hunt, his face felt wrong. He didn't have energy for any of this emotional bullshit.

He's tear his hair out over it later.

Matthew looked up at him in horror and revulsion and shock. Kira was wide eyed but dead to the world, shaking in Matthews grip.

Jack turned his head as Hawk whistled his name, felt his eyeball slap against his cheek. He squeezed his throat shut against the bile as he went on autopilot, squished it back into the socket.

In the present, Jack looked at the fire. Looked back at Hannah. She was obviously expecting a story. He took another sip of whiskey.

"You know. Just some hiker that didn't listen." He shrugged. Pursed his lips. "Nothing special."

He stretched, settled into the chair. "I got a friend down the mountain. Matthew. We should go visit him sometime soon."

#wxshingtcns #headcanon ;;#this is the end you point at the thing you want to kill ;;#eye horror cw

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ledinmotion · 4 months ago

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little-annie · 2 years ago

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All I Want | Ch9

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

Ch8 ⤵️

---

Needless to say there were tears when Steve watched Eddie disappear into the trailer. Screen door snapping shut with the crack of metal ringing shrill through the air, you'd think the sound would have startled him or at the very least would have made him jump but he was so numb to the world around him he'd hardly even processed the sharp noise.

All he felt was an overwhelming emptiness and longing in the fading light of his car. The buzz of the street lights flickering on and the howl of a dog in the distance lost to his senses as he stared at that front door, hoping, waiting, wanting for Eddie to pop his head out and wave him in.

But that never came.

It never came, so after several minutes of staring longingly at a metal door Steve finally backed out of the Munson's driveway and headed for home.

For the longest while he remained on autopilot. The trek from Eddie's home to his own being ingrained into his mind just as much as breathing, but by the time he was passing through town and driving by the tire shop, he finally fell back into reality.

Eddie's van.

Fuck

The very least he could do was fix Eddie's van.

There'd been multiple times he had to help the man with changing a tire or replacing a headlight or something of the sort. Eddie was a good mechanic. He liked to tell Steve it was because he was poor and had no other option but to do it on his own because it was cheaper, but just from watching Eddie work on the van Steve knew it was something he enjoyed. Granted, he wasn't sure if Eddie remembered that now or not.

They'd been to Thatcher Tire enough times together that Steve had memorised Eddie's tire size and now knew they had a discount pile of take offs in the back. Though, he only hoped they were open late enough for him to get replacements tonight.

Upon coming to a grinding halt as the bay doors were closing and employees were filing out of the side door, Steve found himself tripping over gravel, calling out to Gary before he could get into his truck and drive off.

The old man didn't seem too impressed. Falling into the driver's seat with a groan and rolling his window down with a slowness that was painful, he levelled Steve with a look, grumbling, "What you want kid?"

"Gar-" Steve huffed, letting his hands rest on his hips, "I need two tires man."

"Were closed"

Steve grimaced and truthfully for a moment contemplated jumping the fence in the back and leaving a wad of cash in exchange for a set of cheap tires, but maybe something in his face gave way to his intentions because before he knew it Gary let out a gruff, put upon sigh and heaved himself from the vehicle.

Large belly, suspenders and motor oil stained clothes, the man shouldered past Steve and made his way back into the shop, calling over his shoulder, "What'd your boy run over this time?"

—

No more than ten minutes and a couple hundred bucks later, Steve found himself on the road again. In the few moments waiting at the front desk for Gary to find two tires, Steve had come up with a plan. It was nothing extravagant, he just wanted to help Eddie. He felt a burning need to do what he could to make his boy's life easier. He'd go home, change, grab some tools and whatever else he'd need to repair what he could on the van and head back to the school to do just as much.

Granted he'd never done any of it without Eddie by his side, helping him along the way with gentle words and encouragement in his ear and teasing lips on his neck that sooner led them inside or into the back of the van.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

—

"What'd you run over this time?"

"Nothin'," Eddie grumbled while bodily heaving a screwdriver from his front tire, turning to Steve with a smile and a shrug as he continued, "really, if anything, I just acquired a free screwdriver."

"Uh huh, " Steve remembers saying while fondly shaking his head and leaning in to whisper against Eddie's lips, "now teach me how to change a tire, Eds."

Eddie hummed, closing the short distance between them with a press to Steve's lips, "As you wish Sunshine."

For the longest while Steve assumed it was a quiet affair while watching Eddie on his knees changing a tire, but turns out he was just too entrapped by the ripple of his boyfriend's muscles and the bead of sweat running down his neck to actually be paying any attention.

He remembers only checking back in when he felt Eddie squeeze his calf, "You get that all Baby?"

He most definitely did not.

But he smiled and nodded anyway.

Maybe a little dumbly when he realised the rush through his veins and the heat under his skin.

It wasn't many moments later that he was pushing Eddie into the back of the van and feeling sweat stained skin under his tongue.

—

But it was when he hit a pothole and snapped back to reality that he was once again flooded with grief. That moment was very likely something he'd never experience again. The warmth in his chest, the thrum in his veins. The way his heart fluttered behind his ribs as Eddie called him Sunshine.

Tears began to well and he felt his chest tightening for the millionth time in the last week.

Past a vastness of trees and large homes sure enough to be as empty as his own; through the bur of tears and the fog of sadness in his eyes, Steve pulled into the driveway of his childhood home.

Upon coming to a stop in front of the garage door he felt a sob heave from his chest, forcing him to curl forward and gasp for air as the tears fell like a shower into his lap.

The reality that he'd never have Eddie in that capacity again was debilitating.

Something so simple, a moment so regular that it shouldn't have meant anything special. But still it was something Steve longed for once again.

The way every motion, every movement, every shared breath, whispered words and swallowed gasp happened with such ease. Such love and desire and unbridled but unrushed need.

He longed for it desperately.

Longed for it like the flowers yearned for the sun, pleading and dying and fading were they to go without.

Like the fields thirsted for rain in drought, soil cracking and breaking, fissures in the earth like those in his heart.

Like the gasping of flames as they reach for oxygen, light fading to darkness while the need to surge forward dies with empty lungs.

He feared he'd die without it.

But maybe that'd be best.

Maybe then he wouldn't have to live with such a gaping hole in chest. Wide and growing, bleeding around the edges. Suffering slowly. Painfully. Alone.

—

The sky was black, a vastness of emptiness and onyx, diluted by the golden glow of the street lights no more than a dozen feet away.

He'd shut off the car at some point, the rumble of the engine no longer settling in his bones as he slouched further into his seat. The low tone of radio static gone as were hours of the evening. It'd had to have been somewhere close to midnight, maybe 11 p.m., the sliver of moon hanging highest in the sky.

There was sleep in his eyes and an ache in his bones that felt wholly specific to sleeping in the front seat of a car. Contorted and twisted in on himself, seeking a comfort that was never there.

It was obvious his exhaustion had gotten the best of him, blanketing him with a heaviness that forced hours of sleep to be anything but stolen.

Steve rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, pushing himself to sit upright with a stretch and a groan.

With a crack of his neck and a twist of his back, Steve sighed and hauled himself from the vehicle. Heading to the house with intentions to change and grab some tools, he trekked up the stone walkway.

If he wanted to get Eddie's van fixed up and back to the trailer park before any more assholes could mess with it, he should go now.

But it was when he reached the first step of the porch he'd seen something he hadn't expected to find.

Robin Buckley.

Robin Buckley, bundled in one of his Hawkins High Swim Team sweatshirts with her head leaning against the side of the house, sat on the porch and curled into herself with tear stains on her cheeks. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, the hood of the green sweater hiding the better half of her face. She was asleep but from what Steve could see she looked sad, a furrow in her brow and a frown on her face.

The unread note burning a hole in his pocket made him feel as if he'd something to do with it.

He wanted to run. He wanted to leave and never come back.

He was ashamed.

He knew he'd abandoned Robin, left her worrying and wondering. Left her without explanation. Though he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to manage one.

There'd been nights he recalls hearing her banging on the front door, cursing him out, pleading for an answer but leaving her need unheard.

He felt like doing the same right now.

But an overwhelming sense of longing forced him to the ground next to her, curling in on himself and letting tears fall as she let out a groan and shuffled enough to pull him into her side.

They were silent for what felt like hours, though it was probably just moments sitting with his head tucked into her neck and her arms tight around his shoulders.

Tears spilled and stained flesh and cloth, their bodies shuddering with emotion together. Eventually Robin's fingers found his hair, combing and scratching, soothing the ache in his chest and burning in his lungs.

He didn't realise how much he missed her until he allowed himself to be held in her arms.

He'd neglected her for weeks. His once partner in crime felt like a stranger, an unknown astro figure that burned bright like a star, lighting the darkness in his heart. Illuminating the parts of himself he hadn't realised he'd lost.

He felt warmth in his chest he was sure was dead. A lifeless decaying thing that began to flutter when her lips pressed to his scalp and she whispered, "I've missed you, you asshole."

A response was a nonexistent thing, but he was able to manage a hum when he reached for her hand and squeezed it with his own, her bones frail and skin chilled, it felt like an odd thing to miss. But he did. So he held on a little tighter.

They remained that way for a while, the chill of the early summer night settling in their bones and leaving them with a shiver. Eventually Steve worked up the courage to speak, burrowing closer as he whispered to Robin, "m' sorry."

To that Robin hummed and her hand stilled, she was processing, he knew but the ache in his chest didn't disappear when she ground out a simple, "Okay."

Not an 'it's okay' or an 'I know.' Just an undecipherable, 'okay', like she was confirming that she heard him and that was all. Like she didn't believe his words or the regret he felt for abandoning her for weeks on end.

They'd have to talk and it'd be an ugly thing he was sure, but now wasn't the time.

Now Steve's mind was focused on the man he loved, scraped and scathed lying alone in his empty home.

Now Eddie was his main concern.

He felt bad for asking, but right now his priority was the man that held a piece of his heart sitting alone on the other side of town.

"Rob?" Steve whispered, hesitant, that light she'd only just sparked once again in his soul, fluttering and flickering with unease. Threatening to burn out once again.

She hummed, tired and unimpressed, still with a silence that felt like a knife to the chest.

"I need your help"

Robin

It'd been a day.

Work was hell. Hours spent worrying over the words and tears spilled onto a torn piece of paper, a thick twist of nerves in her gut while trying to remain productive and professional. They'd been many times she'd been on the cliffs edge of a breakdown, Keith grumbling at her to get a move on while she stared blankly at the tower of tapes next to her, eyes welling and body feeling weak.

She'd cried herself to sleep the night before, knees tucked to her chest and cheeks stained with tears. The words she'd written on that paper floated through her dreams like a painful reminder of her loneliness and anger. She'd awoken stiff and sore, throat scratchy and eyes red. The idea of heading into work only inspiring dread.

But the day had come and nearly gone, landing her with sore feet and an aching heart on the cusp of the Harrington's stone walkway, the cursed mailbox to her side. Though to her greatest distress the note was gone and upon further inspection so was Steve's car.

She'd contemplated leaving, saving herself the hurt until she got home to wallow once again but for whatever reason she'd felt a spark of determination in her damaged soul. The need to stay and stand her ground upon Steve's inevitable arrival home.

At some point she'd found herself sat on the front steps, book in hand, feigning composure as every ounce of her being ached for one reason or another. She was hurt, heart damaged and bleeding so profusely, agonising over what they'd once had and possibly could never recover again. Steve Harrington was the definition of wreckage, albeit it his own or that caused by an outside force was yet to be determined but it hurt Robin all the same. Left blind and not even graced with the permission to sit on the sidelines and listen.

She was an outsider.

Much like she had been for the majority of her life, but with Steve, her best friend, her soulmate, God, she thought it'd been different. She thought he cared for her as much as she did him. Two halves to a single whole. Souls set to meet through every lifetime. But the last year proved that to be false. Proved that she was just a filler, a body there for emotional comfort when needed. Something he'd so drastically lacked through the years and apparently had found somewhere else other than Robin Buckley.

The last weeks had been rough, and that's not even counting the whole Upside Down shit show. That was counting the way Steve had pulled away completely, the few moments they still shared together, torn away and left to rot. Like she was never there. Not even a thought in the back of his mind. Not even worth a phone call or a single movie night or dinner shared in the last month. She felt invisible. Like a ghost.

Though she wasn't even that. She wasn't graced with even the decency to roam the halls and haunt one Steve Harrington.

No, it was like she hadn't existed at all. There was no ghost to be had when the stardust of your soul simply didn't form a being, the shimmer of what could have been love and life, blowing away like dust in the breeze.

She'd sat there, only a small number of pages turned and words in front of her read. Tears had been shed, an amount so significant, rolling in dredges and drowning the freckles on her cheeks, she'd fallen exhausted in time with the fading sky. Pinks and oranges swirling above, Robin allowed her world to fade to darkness.

Waking once to an unseen rumble and the chill of summer air, she begrudgingly pulled Steve's stolen sweater from her backpack, letting it engulf her as she drifted off once again.

Not long after she woke to a weight at her side, solid in stature but shaking with emotions. Tears and quiet sobs falling to the air between them. She needn't open her eyes, the man's presence alone being enough to go by but something about him felt off. Dull. Dying. As if a part of the man she once called her best friend had a piece of his soul missing.

She's still mad. Fucking furious and heartbroken and betrayed but, fuck… but she still loves the guy. Maybe that's why it hurts so much when she musters the ability to speak and his response is an empty apology. Like he hasn't the slightest clue as to why he should feel bad at all. As if he hadn't been slowly pulling away over the last year only to completely detach within the last weeks.

But goddammit, it's also probably why when Steve asks for help she can't help but give in. No questions asked, just a hollowness that remains in her chest.

Though maybe when they peel themselves from the porch and Steve goes to change his clothes and find a tire iron among other things, Robin wishes she would have at least asked something.

There's a manic look in his eye and his knuckles are white where they hold a death grip on the steering wheel. She's silent, thumbs twiddling in her lap though she can't help but take on some of Steve's frantic energy. It radiates off of him in droves and crawls to settle deep with her skin like a foul disease.

For a long moment she thinks he's finally lost it, that she's committed herself as an accessory to a crime they're about to commit.

But 15 minutes down the road and coming to a slow stop in the school parking lot, Robin has an idea of what they're doing.

Eddie's van sits not more than 10 feet away, windows smashed, tires slashed and the word 'Murderer' painted on the side. She can't help but gasp.

Eddie doesn't deserve this, he's been through enough and so much of it he doesn't even remember.

In the silence and the dark of the car, she has to ask, "Is he okay?"

Steve

He can hear Robin saying something next to him, but it's all lost to the noise inside his head.

The hum of anxiety, the brim of fucking panic. The sound of Eddie's crying in the seat next to him not more than a few hours ago.

He can hear his heart beating like a drum in his ears, erratic, angered, exhausted.

But he has to do this.

Unknowingly leaving Robin's question unanswered, Steve pulls himself from the vehicle, tears brimming in his eyes the moment the late night air hits his skin once again.

It reminds him of the nights he and Eddie camped out in the woods, spending the evening curled into one another in the back of the van. The cool night air biting at their skin, chilling their noses and their ears, leaving them to their own devices to seek warmth.

His cheeks redden at the memory. Skin on skin, hot breaths traded and gasps swallowed.

But then, as usual, reality comes flooding back when he feels a sharp pain in his arm. Robin Buckley's fist to his bicep to be more exact.

"I asked you a question Steve. You can't just show me this-" Robin says with anger a light in her blue eyes, gesturing with a lanky arm towards the vandalised van, "and than fucking leave. Where's Eddie? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

Goddammit

"No Robin. He's not okay, okay? They beat the shit out of him and I had to drive him home earlier because he could hardly function after seeing this." He mimics her motions, sweeping a frustrated hand towards the van. He huffs, equal parts ashamed and annoyed, he just wants to get this done with but a small part feels bad for even dragging Robin into it all. "So let's just fix this shit so he doesn't have to deal with it." He continues with finality, fist clenched around the tire iron while he moves to one of the slashed tires.

Robin nods, tight lipped and silent, alone where they'd just been standing side by side. She's still for a moment surveying the scene before her. The damage done and the man on his knees in the dirt, monkeying with a tire like he has any clue what he's doing.

She'd offer to help him. But it's not her place anymore.

Steve doesn't notice the tears in her eyes when she moves to retrieve the rags and cleaner from the car, moving to scrub off the spray paint in silence only a few feet away from him.

—

The street lights buzz overhead and the crickets chip in the distance. For a second, albeit it wild, Steve thinks the moment's nice. Robin's by his side, though quiet, she's still there, helping him when she doesn't really need to. It dawns on him that he hadn't even asked why she was at his house, sleeping on the front porch in the first place.

Though, after getting snappy with her minutes ago, he doesn't really feel like he has the right to speak.

She's here, it's the most he's seen of her in weeks and he knows it's his fault, but he knows they'll be okay.

He just needs to get this shit with Eddie sorted out first.

The first tire's changed and Steve's working on the second when Robin plops down on the ground next to him. Her back's to the van and her eyes are rimmed red when she thunks her head against the vehicle with a quiet huff.

Eyes are shut and brow furrowed, she pulls her knees to her chest and finally lets words fall into the chilled late night air between them. "I do miss you, you know," she says quietly, barreling on before Steve can even think of what to say, "I- Steve… I just don't get what I did to make you hate me. Like is it the lesbian thing? Does it disgust you that much? Because I get it if it does, I probably shouldn't have told you in the first place. You didn't even know me back then."

At that accusation the tire iron falls limp in his hand, taking in his best friend with a feeling akin to grief, Steve notices her eyes are still closed, her head leaning back, chin turned to the sky and silent tears slipping free as she continues, "Or did I do something or say something? I just don't know where I went wrong."

He goes to speak but his words fall short when Robin opens her eyes, red and tired, watery, meeting his own, "It's been a year of you pulling away. After Vecna, you were just gone. Maybe I'd seen you a handful of times since but you were so tuned out, empty. I felt like you couldn't even see me." She whispers the last half and then lets out a wet laugh, deprecating in a way.

"Then I wrote that fucking letter and felt sick to my stomach for hours. I couldn't believe the things I'd written in it. I felt awful. But between me feeling like I was going to puke, not seeing it in your mailbox when I went to steal it back, to sitting here after you didn't even bother to ask why I was on your porch in the first place. I don't regret it. You deserve to read what's in that letter."

Then she's quiet, the tears haven't stopped rolling and her eyes haven't left Steve's yet. Blue and biting and searing into his soul. He wishes he could muster something to say, some form of an explanation as to why. But really, he doesn't know why or how to explain it in the slightest.

The thought that she's felt him pulling away for a year is startling. She felt alone and he was off falling in love and having the time of his life without her. She didn't even know about it. But it's not like she could. Especially not now. It wasn't just his secret to share.

He wanted to say sorry, to hold her and explain everything away, but he couldn't. He didn't know how to.

Blue eyes are pleading, looking back into his own, flecks of the sky and the sea glimmering with sadness behind tears under the dull moonlight that blankets them.

After a moment of silence Robin huffs, pulls her eyes away and clenches her jaw with such ferocity Steve fears it may shatter.

"Rob," he finally says, voice weak, exhausted, scared, "I'm so-"

But he's cut off as Robin hisses and pushes herself to her feet, "Don't you dare say you're sorry."

So he doesn't. He snaps his mouth shut and watches as Robin Buckley walks away, muttering under her breath, not unheard to him, "It's just bullshit anyways."

---

Ao3 link ⤵️

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