#okay enough rambling. back to staring at the fields and waiting

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

part 2

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[imraespace]

STREAMERS! ★ ˎˊ˗

..CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5! || CHAPTER 6..

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To your surprise, the school day went by in an instant. Not that it bothers you, you're actually quite happy about that!

The bell rang and that was the students' signal to start going crazy and battle to be the first one to exit the classroom.

Normally, you sit and wait maybe talk to your best friend but he's still in his mood or whatever.

The situation caused a sigh to escape your mouth, resting your head in your palm as you began to think about different ways on how to solve it.

But your train of thought was stopped when a certain boy entered your classroom.

"Y/N! Muichiro!"

His voiced alerted both of you as your heads' turned into his direction.

"Are you both ready? Everyone is waiting outside." He asked, walking up to you specifically.

Muichiro let out a small yes while you nodded your head.

Tanjiro grabbed your wrist and began to walk up behind Muichiro as you three left the classroom.

Maybe Tanjiro thinks you will run away from them or maybe he didn't believe your big smile from this morning because right now he's slowly turning towards your direction with his signature smile!

"Hello to you to.. Tanjiro.." You mumbled, giving him a smile.

"Hi Y/N. You're not okay are you.." He mumbled back.

You finally decided to stop act and broke the ice.

"I will tell you later, let's just focus on getting to the cafe." You confessed, which was enough for Tanjiro.

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You three had finally met up with the others and now the group is making their way towards the cafe!

But oh boy..

A certain colorful eyed man who you knew so much, has landed his eyes on the group.

"Would you all like to eat at our restaurant?" He said, slowly making his way towards you all.

"Not YOU again.." You said, sending him the bad eye.

"Oh its you.. You brought your friends! How thoughtful, how about you-" He began to ramble and grabbed a menu from who knows where, but Muichiro had alot to tell him.

"We don't want to eat at your nasty restaurant. Goodbye." Muichiro said, staring him dead in his eyes for a bit, then began to walk away.

As we all passed by the man, ignoring his presence, besides Tanjiro who gave him a small sorry.

Ignoring what happened, you all finally made it to the cafe!

You was the first to walk up to door and pushed it open.

The small bell rang, alerting the couple inside their their friends arrived.

"You're here!" Mitsuri exclaimed as she ran to you all to give yall a big hug!

And in return you all gave a big smile!

"I'm really grateful for everything you all have done!" She continued, giving you a small kiss on the cheek, which instantly made your day better.

She also gave Muichiro a tight hug, it looked like Muichiro was dying.

She finally sat everyone down but then! You got a text!!

You came off your phone and notice that Muichiro sat himself right beside you. Mitsuri came up to you both and brought cupcakes.

"The both of you get to choose first!" She said.

You took the cupcake with the cherry on top, so you can eat the cherry.

The silent was enjoyable in the cafe, the afternoon sun entered through the window, adding to the comforting mood.

The bell from the door sadly broke the silence and Mitsuri was the first to speak.

"The cafe is close sorry!- Wait Kanae!" She said as her eyes landed on the lady.

"Sorry for arriving late I was still correcting homework.." She said as Shinobu came up to her, helping her with her bag.

From your field of vision you had noticed that Sanemi was about to help her, but saw when Shinobu went instead.

You kinda felt bad for him. Kinda.

But out of the kindness of Kanae's heart, she sat beside the man and greeted him with her sweet smile.

STREAMERS!

EXTRA:

TAGLIST: @deezy12299 @s0uldarling @cherryblossomly @boogiemansbitch @delusional-mushroom @ashlovelys (OPEN)

[idkelly]

Painting

Travis bickle x reader

Summary: 3 encounters lead to 3 words on their minds.

Warnings: none; fluff

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Her knuckles were turning white.

Her grip didn’t soften as she pressed her notebook into her stomach. She stood on the edge of the sidewalk, shivering in her boots. She cursed herself for going out of her comfort zone that day. It was an important day on her calendar, yet at the end, she regretted her outfit. Upon moving here two months prior, she came to the realization that not many people had ‘style’. or at least a pop in what they choose to wear, everyone is so mundane in New York City that it clashes with what actually happens in the shadows.

As she stood there waiting, her mind wandered off to earlier that day. She had officially made it, and her agency is finally letting her step foot onto the field. Back in her hometown, she had worked tremendously for years on end on her craft; art wasn’t easy to master, or at least memorable art. Now that she's achieved what she’s been wanting, her work is recognized and in high demand.

But that was all on paper; she, on the other hand, wasn’t. She felt as if she were a ghost roaming around, creating what people thought were the most breathtaking paintings ever. At the back of her mind, an encounter a few months ago had stuck with her. She heard a higher-up phone call about the upcoming sales, and the topic switched to the products. Then he rambled on and on about how her paintings are basically Renaissance-made today. She was never much of a talker, yet she mustered up the courage to go up and talk to him, though his confused gaze threw her off.

"Uh, who are you exactly?"

It was fate; it had followed her everywhere. Sometimes she thinks that it’s because she was bland, basic, ordinary, and vanilla. But those thoughts left as soon as they came; she knew she wasn’t any of that. She was someone’s cup of tea for sure—not the vast majority thought so—and she was okay with it. Most of the time, she was alone, yet she never felt lonely.

Her cowboy boots were killer, red and bright, but so was the blood running down the back of her ankles; it was the first time she wore them. but she didn’t think it would mean a miserable way back home. Someone was supposed to pick her up, but guessing by the time they'd probably forgotten, she didn’t have anywhere near to go; her apartment was almost an hour away, and she hadn't seen a cab in a long while.

Behind her, illuminatingly, was a night café. Shaking her purse, she guessed she had enough money for some coffee and waffles.

She sat on the bar stool; she always liked it better than the regular seats; it was taller and bigger, almost like she was on top of the world. She liked the little stuff like this; it seemed silly to an outsider, but at least she’s having fun on her own, especially facing the window and looking at whoever walks by. A few minutes later, the waiter brought her food. She kicked off her boots to rest her feet a bit. It was going to be a long walk home.

She sat her bag on her lap and pulled out her small sketchbook. As if on cue, she noticed small rain drops clinging to the window before her; it added to the atmosphere, making her smile to herself. In her ear buds, killing me softly by fugees played, and her head swayed with the rhythm.

Half an hour passes as she’s lost in her sketchbook, her pencil dancing along the page, creating another beautiful portrait. That was her specialty. Her train of thought stops for a second when she notices someone sitting at the end of her row. Her head turns around, and she realizes that the place is basically full.

She glanced beside her at the figure; it was a guy in a green jacket and some jeans; he seemed to have ordered a coffee and some waffles; he had a mole on the side of his face. She didn’t spend much time staring at the man; it was rude. She just went back to drawing. but out of the corner of her eye, she saw what shoes he was wearing. cowboy boots.

"Cowboy boots!" It slipped out of her mouth before she could think.

The man looked startled. He looked at her, then turned his head behind him, making sure she was talking to him. His eyebrows rose as he looked at her confusedly. "Huh?"

She smiled, a bit embarrassed. I'm sorry, I meant—your boots! Cowboy boots, I like ‘em."

Her eyes never left his; they were dark, almost black, yet pretty. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, but he was smiling now.

"These are mine," she pointed to the pair that’s beneath her. I had to take them off because my feet were all bloody. She laughed, not taking it seriously at all. He looked at them and smiled, saying, "Hey, they’re just like mine, just in a different color."

She looked closer, and he could see her eyes light up at the realization. "we’re matching!"

"matching?"

"Yeah, matching"

A moment of silence passed, not an awkward one, though; they were both staring at each other, smiling a bit, her eyes drifting to his plate, then back to him.

"We don’t have matching taste buds, though; I hate waffles. This surprised him, making him chuckle and take a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t used to this; he didn’t know how to act when people approached him. Whenever he responds, he usually says the wrong thing, ruining the encounter. He didn’t respond to her; he simply didn’t know what to say. It felt like her eyes burned holes through his side, but soon enough she went back to her small book.

Her legs were crossed, and her black skirt hiked up to her mid-thigh because of her position. She wore a colorful dress shirt that was predominantly red, matching her boots. Her hair rested on her shoulder. A few pieces kept falling in front of her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Staring is rude, you know. "His head whipped straight back. She laughed; it was almost contagious, creeping on his lips. He mumbled an apology.

"What’re you writing?"

“I'm not writing, I'm drawing."

"oh"

She seemed focused now, unlike a few seconds ago, when she was pushing him to have a conversation. He felt a bit blue, but once he mustered up the courage to talk to her, she was over it. After the incident last year, Travis has been more weary of how he talks with other people, though that didn’t stop the screw-ups from time to time. He now understands how to read the room.

He was already done with his food; the coffee turned out to be bitter, so he barely touched it. As he got up and put on his jacket, he heard her.

"Wait, where’re you going?"

“Uh, I finished my food; I'm going home. Why?"

“Just," she started scribbling faster on her paper without looking at him, "sit down for a few more minutes, ‘kay?"

He stood still for a few seconds before agreeing to the request. He looked around the place; everyone had left by this point. Subconsciously, he yawns. He never feels sleepy, but he could feel his eyelids getting heavier by the second. She spares him a glance, smirking.

"Don’t fall asleep on me, alright? Here—ya go, take this." She handed him her right earbud between her slender fingers, and suddenly Travis took hold of it. They were sharing earbuds.

"Just two cowboys listening to music."

"You’re a cowgirl, not a cowboy."

"Saying cowboys is much easier than saying cow enthusiasts," they laughed.

She stayed quiet for a while, then suddenly stood up with her book in hand. The earbud fell out of her ear, and her face displayed an ear-to-ear smile. He had never seen someone smile this much in this city.

"It's done!" "Here you go. She ripped a piece of paper and handed it to him. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name."

"I'm Travis, he said, looking down at the paper in his hand, absolutely stunned. She could tell he almost lost control of his face as his mouth hung open.

"Well, Travis, you might want to close your mouth, or a fly might fly in there." She was getting her boots on with a bag over her shoulder with all of her belongings in it.

Travis was flabbergasted as he looked at the drawing of himself; it was almost like someone had taken a black and white photo of him, but she barely looked at him while drawing. How did she do this? She saw him. She’d seen him. The man’s hands started to shake a bit. He composed himself and looked up at her figure; she was smiling, as she always had. Words couldn’t leave his mouth once again. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t say the wrong thing.

"Well, if you didn’t like it, it's completely fine; don’t sweat it."

"No! No, I, uh, do like it; I'm just, uh, surprised, that’s all. Thank you." He didn’t catch her name, but she chuckled and told him. He made a mental note that she wasn’t from here; it was the first time he heard a name like

"Now it’s time for me to go, Travis. See you around, yeah?"

Yeah, he breathed.

As she walked towards the door, his eyes couldn’t stop following him, but he raised a brow once she stood dead in her tracks, turned around, and headed towards him again.

"Did you forget something?

She kissed his forehead and went away, like it was nothing. Travis wasn’t sleepy anymore; his mind was working full force, and he was only thinking of one thing: the way her lips felt on his skin.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HANDS — ITOSHI SAE.

sae doesn’t understand the purpose of holding hands. it’s a bit annoying to try and move around while you’re practically chained to someone else, it feels a bit odd to have someone’s hand lace with yours and keep it occupied, and it just draws this unwarranted attention that he doesn’t like.

he doesn’t hold hands, and you don’t seem to mind, so it’s never really been a concern of his.

not until today at least.

“are you nervous?” you ask, standing next to him as you stare out at the field. it’s a large stadium—there’s a bigger audience here than you’ve ever seen at any of the last few games you’ve been to.

it makes sense, you suppose. you’ve really only been to a handful of sae’s games—and even if you haven’t dated long, you’re well accustomed now to the occasional mic in your face as they as you how you feel about your boyfriend’s win. but now that he officially doesn’t play for a youth team anymore, now that he’s in the big shots with the adults, there’s bound to be more people, right? it makes you a bit nervous, all the eyes on you, but it doesn’t keep you from standing next to him as he waits with his team just minutes before starting the game.

sae only raises a brow at you, looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, “what do you take me for? they’re lucky to even play against me,” he mutters.

from a distance, you can hear a few amused chuckles and a few scoffs of disbelief from his older teammates. for the youngest on the team, sae has the largest presence. he’s already the talk of the hour—you can hear reporters buzzing for an interview and fans chanting his name already.

but he’s unbothered, sipping on his water bottle like it’s child’s play he’s preparing for.

“i know, baby,” you mumble, “you’ll crush them but…there’s just so many people,” you mumble. “what if you trip and fall? that’ll be so many people seeing.”

“i’m not gonna trip and fall,” he grumbles, lips twitching into a small frown that’s almost—almost—a pout, like the fact that you think he’d do something like that is an insult to his pride.

“oh my gosh,” you gasp, “i think someone just took a picture of us,” you ramble, not even paying attention to him. “what if i looked ugly?”

he wants to tell you there are a lot of people taking pictures, and that it’s a dumb thing to say—since when have you ever looked ugly? even your bad angles are better than the average person’s best, but before he can even say anything, your hand tightly grasps his.

he looks down, furrows his brows, opens his mouth to say something when you cut in.

“don’t be nervous, sae,” you babble away, “you got this, okay? there’s not even that many people here, they look like ants from down here anyway. you won’t even notice them.”

and then your hand squeezes his tightly, like it’s for reassurance, like it’s to tell him it’s okay, i’m here. except, he’s sure you’re doing it more for yourself than him—since he’s quite literally fine, quite literally standing here with as bored of an expression as always.

“i’m not nervous, idiot,” he mumbles.

and sae doesn’t like holding hands. your hands are a bit clammy and cold and they’re squeezing a bit too tight for his liking and he can’t move around as freely now. but your thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his hand and…it’s nice. for some reason, it’s kind of nice and he likes it.

he gives your hand an experimental squeeze, and when you squeeze right back, he finds that oddly enough, it’s kind of comforting to be able to communicate with you like this without actually saying words.

it’s okay. i’m here. you’ve got this. i’m not going anywhere. i’m proud of you. you’re all i need. you make me happiest. did you see that? i think that was another camera flash. i’m scared. i believe in you. it’s almost time for you to go. play your best. i love you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

every tightening of your hand and every small squeeze tells him something that he finds he can understand for some reason—even without words. even without looking at your eyes or your face or seeing your expression. it’s so simple—so easy and…and he likes it.

why does he like it?

“good luck, baby,” you whisper, turning to face him, giving him a look that’s so nervous, yet so filled with conviction, he almost feels that to not play better than his best is of a disservice to you.

“thanks,” he murmurs, tugging you a bit closer by your hand. he finds that’s also a nice added perk of holding your hand—being able to pull your body impossibly closer whenever he wants. “but i won’t need it.”

“no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “because you’re mister itoshi-sae-the-best-ever-who-never-gets-nervous. my bad.”

he huffs a small chuckle, gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a small sigh of content when he realizes the circles you’re rubbing over his knuckles have turned into hearts.

“don’t be nervous,” he says quietly, “‘s just us. everyone else’s background noise.”

“i know, but—”

“and don’t answer any reporters till i come back, okay? don’t need you having a breakdown on national television.”

“sae!” you whine, “that doesn’t help.”

“see you after my win,” he grins ever so slightly. it’s the biggest smile any of his teammates have ever seen from him—a few of them even gape in shock, but he pays no mind. he contemplates for a small moment before he decides—brings up your laced fingers and presses a small, short kiss to the back of your hand.

“see you after your win,” you agree, giving one more squeeze to his hand.

i love you.

he squeezes back. i love you too.

and then he’s off, and he almost hesitates before he lets his hand leave your grasp while he runs onto the field. he glances back at you, sees the way your hands are clutched tightly together to your chest as you stare at him with hope in your eyes and awe in your expression.

itoshi sae has never liked holding hands—but then your hands hold out his entire universe, and how could he not change his mind?

hi everyone. pls take this very self indulgent and very me coded reader as they overthink sae’s entire game more than he even thinks about it 💀

[anarcoqueer1994]

Part 2 Eddie’s POV | Part 1 (Steve's POV here)| Part 3 Part 4

Eddie was just trying to get out of the trailer and find some place to smoke, so Wayne wouldn't give him a hard time. He definitely did not plan on running into a crying Steve Harrington. Steve was a freshman, but he was already so popular. He was one of the jocks, so Eddie kind of assumed he was an asshole, a cute asshole, but an asshole nevertheless.

It's for this reason that he doesn't know what comes over him, what compels him to stop and ask if he is okay. Maybe it was because Steve looked so small. Maybe it was because Eddie was familiar with the look of pain in his face, feels it to his core when he sees the bruise on Steve’s face.

And to his surprise, Steve opens up to him. He tells Eddie he does not think he is alright. Eddie knows he can use this information to knock Steve down and ruin his reputation at school, but looking at him, he can't. So he sits down next to him, lets him talk about his family and the loneliness and pain, and Eddie feels some sort of kinship with him. Eddie opens up too, talks about his parents, and says how Wayne took him in.

And they talk about other things too. He notices how Steve smiles and listens as he rambles on about Dungeons and Dragons. They talk for hours, and regardless of how weird or different his tastes are, Steve never seems fazed by it. He listens as Steve passionately defends Rick Springfield. And he feels his cheeks go red when Steve suddenly stops, gets nervous, says his name. "Hey Eds..."

"Yeah, Stevie?" The name slips out but Steve doesn't appear bothered. In fact, Steve seems to be blushing, and Eddie tries not to read into that. He waits for Steve to repond.

"If this is out of line or something, please tell me, and we can pretend it never happened, but umm..." Steve starts anxiously, and despite Eddie's own building anxiety, he tries to lighten the mood, get Steve to relax.

So Eddie smiles at him, laughing gently to hide his own nerves. "I thought you popular kids didn't get anxious." He jokes."Unless there was some hot girl or something." He isn't sure why he said that, maybe to get the confirmation from Steve that, yes, he does in fact like girls, and this growing feeling in Eddie's chest over the last few hours needs to be quelled. Steve Harrington can't like boys, and definitely can't like boys like him.

But then Steve surprised Eddie. "I mean... what if it was like a hot guy?" Steve quickly asks like he could not get the words out fast enough. Eddie doesn't hear the breath get caught in Steve's throat over the increasing sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Steve Harrington just came out to him , and he is in disbelief. And he is suddenly more hopeful. After a few seconds, it hits him that he has not replied, that Steve is waiting.

He finally says, "I mean...if you're asking if I'd be okay with you thinking a guy is hot, I would be." Eddie pauses, but wants to say more, but he is terrified to make the first move...to be the one who crossed the line. Afterall Steve was high school royalty, and he is just some freak. But suddenly, he feels Steve's hand in his, resting both of their hands in Eddie’s lap. Eddie hopes Steve doesn't realize how clammy his palms are.

"What if... you were that hot guy?" Steve whispers, both of them staring face to face now. Eddie can't help but smile, blush covering his face. "I'd be okay with that too..."

And Steve just leans over and kisses him, gentle hands on his face, soft lips against his. And Eddie kisses back, and its magical, better than he ever dreamed his first kiss would be.

The next couple of months are great. At school they keep their distance. He tells Steve it's because it is better for both of them because people can be mean to a couple of queer boys. And mostly that is true but he also doesn't want to ruin either of their reputations. Their respective friend groups would have a field day with the jock and the freak being together. So only Wayne knows.

But alone that can just be Steve and Eddie; happy. When they sleep together for the first time, Eddie can't believe how in love he is with Steve. And as he held Steve against his chest, petting his hair, Steve says it, tells him "I love you, Eds..."

And he doesn't have to think, he just says it back. Because he did love Steve Harrington.

A few days later, though, everything comes crashing down. He had been with his friends. They had been talking shit about some of the assholes at school, mostly jocks.

One of them mentions Steve, suddenly peaking Eddie’s interest. "I thought Harrington stays out of it, doesn't he?" Eddie says, trying to play it cool.

"Yea, he doesn't say much but you know it's just because he thinks he is better than everyone." Eddie’s friend laughs.

"What do you mean?" Eddie says, trying not to sound defensive.

"You know, Steve "the hair" Harrington, is just a spoiled rich kid. Honestly, I feel bad for that dudes friends. He probably uses them to feel good and gets rid of them when he gets bored. I know he just a freshman, but you can just tell he's a jerk."

"I don't think he is that bad. " Eddie says weakly, thinking back to Steve laying on his chest a few nights prior. "He's always been nice to me."

"Eddie, guys like that are great at pretending. But he hangs out with the people that make our lives nightmares. All the jocks are the same. "

"Oh..." Eddie replies, not sure what to say.

His friend adds, "I feel bad for all those girls that flirt with him, if he ever actually dates one, he is going to lead them on until he gets bored of them. And dump them. " He laughs and moves on. But Eddie can't stop thinking about the conversation.

His friends were right. Steve was a jock, a popular kid, a rich kid. He didn't really love Eddie...he couldn't. He stews in this, convinces himself that Steve will break his heart. And he can't handle that. He needs to cut it off first.

So he doesn't show up to Steve's game, and when Steve shows up at the trailer, he makes Wayne send him away. Wayne looks at him, disappointed, when he shuts the door. "Eddie, you should talk to him, call the boy ."

"No Wayne." He says before locking himself in his room, spending the weekend trying to forget about Steve.

At school on Monday he tries to avoid Steve, but the other boy finally tracks him down in the bathroom. He tries to block out the memory of their conversation but can remember clearly the look on Steve’s face right before he walked away. Eddie had broken Steve’s heart.

Afterwards, Eddie lets himself believe he was right to end it with Steve as he watches Steve hook up with girl after girl. He lets himself think he would have been just a number for Steve. He even silently is happy when he seen Nancy Wheeler left him. He forces himself to see Steve as a caricature of a man, just King Steve. Not the sweet, bitchy, soft, tough complex person he knew Steve to be.

Because Eddie, due to some weird high school hubris, couldn't let himself believe he was wrong. That Steve Harrington loved him.

And then he ends up becoming friends with Steve’s little group of kids he babysat. And he hated that Dustin would constantly talk about Steve, because it was more proof that he was an idiot and he let a good thing go. No, he didn't just let him go, he crushed him, broke him. Steve trusted Eddie with his heart and Eddie dropped it. He tries not think about it, even as he stares out the window whenever Steve would drop the kids off or pick them up. He ruined everything and he can't turn back time.

But then Spring Break happens, and he was forced to face Steve again. And it's hard and awkward. He knows Steve does it on purpose when he throws his shirt at Eddie. He knows it is too late for him and Steve. But part of him wants Steve to be happy, especially seeing how good Steve still is. He tries to fix things between Steve and Nancy. Steve doesn’t seem receptive of it. Then Steve saves him, runs out of the Upside-Down, carrying his body.

Steve stays with him in the hospital and volunteers to help him at home. Wayne was appreciative about that. Eddie assumes they are never going to bring it up, ignore the past. But Steve has other ideas. Eddie is left dumbstruck when Steve asks one day when they are alone, "Are we going to talk about it?"

Steve's POV here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

[indigostreaking]

oh sorry! that’s okay! instead can i request one about how each of them says i love you for the first time? ❤️

I love this even more! 🥹

Josh:

The two of you were lying on a blanket in a field, talking about anything and everything. You loved listening to him ramble about seemingly nonsensical philosophical theories and anything that lead to. You got lost in your own thoughts, just listening quietly as you basked in the sun, when you felt two eyes glued to your face. You opened yours slowly to see Josh had rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows just to stare at you. “You’re such a creeper sometimes,” you giggled as he feigned offense. “You we’re falling asleep while I was talking and I’m a creep?!” He asked incredulously. You scoffed, “I was not asleep!” He scooted closer, leaning in to kiss you gently. “You were, but it’s okay. I still love you,” he finished with a kiss to the tip of your nose and your mouth fell open. “What? I love you, and It’s not like you didn’t know,” he said plainly. “I’ve been in love with you since our second date—” “When I let you pick the movie and you picked 2001:A Space Odyssey?” You interrupted with a snort. He nodded and you laughed again. “I love you, too, ya goof,” you replied with a smile.

Jake:

After a particularly enthusiastic romp in the sheets, Jake plopped down beside you in bed with both of you panting to catch your breath. “I love you,” he said it so confidently and matter of factly, and he watched you carefully take in what he’d said. You shook your head, this couldn’t be real. “Hey, look at me, y/n,” he sat up and leaned over you, cupping your face and guiding you to look at him. “I. Love. You. I am in love with you, y/n,” he repeated, making sure you heard him. You turned your face, just enough to kiss the palm of his hand. “And I love you, Jakey,” you replied as the butterflies crashed around in your rib cage. His cheeks flushed and his smile widened. “Good,” he said sweetly before pressing his lips to yours.

Danny:

“Need any help?” Danny asked as he came up behind you, placing a hand on each of your hips as you placed the finished plating the meal you had been working on. “Actually, if you could open the wine,” you inclined your head towards the set table where the wine was waiting. “You know you don’t have to put in all this effort for me,” he replied as he easily popped the cork from the bottle and poured two glasses of white wine. “I know, but I wanted to,” you stated plainly before sitting the plates down on the two placemats. Danny pulled out your chair before taking the seat beside you, and you waited for him to take the first bite, hoping you had gotten the recipe right. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he said, “Oh my god, I love you.” Your eyes widened and you froze for a moment. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to let it slip like that,” he stammered. Your heart was racing, but you still couldn’t form words. “I had a whole night planned with reservations at that place downtown, and—” he began to explain, but you cut him off. “Danny, I love you, too,” you couldn’t hold back your smile, especially when his cheeks flushed pink. “You do?” He smiled back with a sparkle in his warm brown eyes. You nodded sincerely, “I really do.” He stood abruptly and pulled you to your feet with him, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered against the top of your head, “I love you so fucking much..”

Sammy:

Watching Sam scramble around packing and preparing for the upcoming tour was exhausting. You knew what you were signing up for when he asked you to house sit and dog sit, but all the instructions seemed never ending. “Sam,” you said loudly, trying to bring him back to earth for a moment. He turned to look at you, smiling because of course he’s smiling. “Rosie and I are gonna have a great time, just us girls,” you replied with a smile. “And I’ll try my best to keep the plants alive, but—” you began before he cut you off, finishing your thought for you. “But no promises, I know, babe,” he laughed as he stepped towards you and took your face in his hands, pulling you in to a kiss. A car honked outside, and your heart sank. “Time to go,” he shrugged, “I love you, and I’ll see you in a few months!” He turned and grabbed his suitcase and bass from their spot by the door. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, and chased him out the door. “Sammy, did you just..” you trailed off as he turned to flash you a toothy grin. “I guess I did,” he replied with a shrug and a knowing look. “Well, I love you too!” You yelled after him as he kept walking towards the waiting van filled with his brothers. “I know,” he nodded before climbing in and blowing you a kiss as they backed down the driveway.

[assassinmidnight]

Their resident Genius

The BAU is called in by Scotland Yard to help with a case, Spencer becomes intrigued when he hears that they have their own resident genius.

_________

Spencer Reid x Holmes!Autistic!Female!reader

_________

Honestly Spencer was unsure why Scotland Yard had called them in, he always knew that their team was one of the best but the fact that Scotland Yard had called them in had surprised the Genius a lot.

--

“Okay team, we’ve been called in by the English. We’re gonna be gone for a bit so pack accordingly. Airstrip in 30,” Hotch called. “Wait, the English? You mean Scotland Yard? Scotland Yard called US in, why?” 

“Really Reid, I thought you’d be the most excited to meet their team. Apparently they have their own resident genius,” The reply from Hotch had Morgan smiling “Resident Genius? Is he smarter than Reid? Man I have to see this,”

--

During the entire flight Spencer had been thinking of the so-called Genius. He didn’t really believe in genius as a word but he had become intrigued. He wondered if Hotch was honest, if he was correctly informed. Spencer had for a long time kept track of Scotland Yard but he’d only heard of Sherlock Holmes being their resident genius, but he was a consultant not an official agent. Did he decide to join them officially?

“Reid stop, I can hear the cogs turning in your head and it’s keeping me from my sleep,” 

“Shut up Morgan,” Morgan looked over “Reid I get it, you’re stressed about meeting new people and maybe even someone who can go against you in brainiac power. But dude chill, it’s gonna be all good, chances are they aren’t even close to your level.” 

Spencer took that into consideration, it’s true most people who are called geniuses aren’t close to his level.”

_

“Okay team we’re gonna meet the people from Scotland Yard. Behave,” Hotch sounded more serious than he looked.

Spencer was surprised when they entered the building, it was nothing like their own. This place was not messy or filled with people stuffing the rooms, it was all quiet and strict as if it was a classroom. “This way to the office,” Hotch pointed towards a room and they all headed there.

“Ah Agent Hotch, thank you for coming,” The man smiled and shook hands with Hotch, “This must be your famous team of profilers,” The man quickly looked at his watch before looking up again. “We should wait with the introductions, one of ours is running late,” Morgan smirked “Your resident genius?” The man looked up surprised before nodding, he looked like he was about to answer but got interrupted by the door swinging open.

“I’m sorry for being late, you know how my brother is,” A woman came in, a bit out of breath. She looked around 21 and had (y/h) colored hair, quite long too.

She seemed to realize the company they had and went beet red, Spencer thought she looked pretty cute. 

She turned back to the man, “So this is the BAU team lestrade? The best profilers,” 

“Wait you’re Greg Lestrade? You worked with Sherlock and Dr. Watson,” The two brits looked over at Reid, the girl cocked her head to the side before smiling. “Dr. Reid I presume. I’ve read a lot about you, three PhDs and working for the FBI at 24, impressive,” now Reid turned red earning a laugh from Morgan. “You did your homework,” The woman looked at Morgan, “Yes I did, I like knowing who come here, Agent Morgan.” 

“Y/n behave. I know you prefer working alone but no need to be rude, you are better than your brothers aren't you?” The girl named Y/n sighed and nodded. “Good, introduce us to the UnSub.”

__

Throughout the entire briefing Spencer had been staring at Y/N, he couldn’t figure out how such a young woman was part of Scotland Yard. He tried to profile her but all he could decipher from her movements, which were many. She fidgeted a lot, tended to stare at the wall and kept her arms crossed over her chest. She was distracted, bored and introverted. That profile didn’t fit someone in this field. 

“Yes Y/N?” Hotch's voice brought Spencer from his thoughts.

“Dr. Reid, why are you staring at me so much? Is it really that hard to profile me?” Her voice was quite gleeful. She was proud, she had an advantage and she knew that. “Mm, yes sorry, I was profiling you but it wasn’t hard. You are clearly bored by this, unfocused throughout the entire briefing and you are closed off. These are not common attributes in Agents, that’s why I was staring,” He felt pretty proud of himself until “You didn’t introduce me Detective?” “No, I thought it best to keep the introductions til we're all here. But it seems like you know them well enough which I expected but you should probably introduce yourself,” Lestrade smiled and Y/N nodded. “My name is Y/N Holmes, little sister of both Mycroft and Sherlock. I am the one who usually works alone in my cave but apparently I was needed for this case. And no Dr. Reid I was not bored or unfocused, quite the opposite actually. I was just in my mind palace,”

“You’re the sister of Sherlock? Wait you’re the resident Genius,” Y/N laughed at Morgan’s reaction. Once again she cocked her head to the side, smiling. “How many PhDs?” She turned to Reid, “None, school bores me. Also resident genius isn’t what I would call myself, creative genius with hypersensitivity. All the Holmes boys got none of the emotion so I got all of it,” Reid nodded. “Well now that we’ve been introduced to the most interesting thing in England, how about we get started.”

__

“You still thinking about Miss smartypants, Pretty boy?” Reid tossed a pillow at Derek, but he did nod. “There is something about her, she wasn’t looking at me but knew that I was watching her. She assumed Lestrade had introduced her to us but was happy when she got to do it herself and she pointed out that she is more creative and sensitive than her brothers who are known sociopaths. I can’t understand her brain, or her profile,” Morgan stared at Reid before laughing “Dude it sound like you have a crush on Miss Holmes, well if she is as smart as they say your kids will definitely be something out of this world,” Morgan kept on laughing even when Spencer turned around on his bed.

__

“Welcome to my cave, don’t touch anything without asking.” Y/N was stern, her look was cold as well Spence nodded. “So um, why am I working here instead of in the field?” he asked, she looked at him annoyed before turning to her screen. “Because your boss thought it would be best to keep the two geniuses in the same room.”

The two kept working, Reid was surprised at all the tea Y/N was drinking and how she compulsively played with her bracelets whenever she was thinking. OCD, that did fit but something still felt off. “Just ask, get it out of the way before you drive me absolutely nuts” she looked at him expectantly. Spencer gulped before asking the question “Why can’t I profile you? I know it’s nothing on my end so it must be something on yours,” She shook her head and smiled, looking back at her screen. Spencer sighed thinking she wasn’t going to answer. 

“I am autistic with traces of OCD and dyslexia, that’s why you can’t profile me. I don’t fit the general profile for autistics. I have a deep emotional understanding but I lack logical intelligence that is usually paired with the diagnosis. My OCD traces are caused by my autism and the compulsive behaviors are mainly caused by anxiety. I suffered deep trauma in my childhood like both my brothers but unlike them I never emotionally distanced myself, this is why you can’t profile me Reid, I don’t fit the general profiles just like you,”He was surprised at her answer but considering what she just said he really shouldn’t have. 

“Wow, that’s- that’s a lot. Wait, you profiled me?” He was genuinely surprised, she laughed at him, breaking her cold act. “No I didn’t, but most intelligent people are the same,” he nodded before laughing with her.

__

“So thanks to the BAU and our own Agents we’ve managed to catch this killer and he will soon be behind bars,” JJ announced on the news. The team were currently at Lestrades house having a drink. Reid kept looking over to Y/N, ever since they’d solved the case she’d been distant towards him, it hurt for some reason. He thought they were getting along, especially after they’d started to talk about Dr. WHO, guess not. 

“Something wrong, Reid?” He turned and saw that the voice belonged to Lestrade, he nodded. “In my experience with the Holmes siblings, they rarely act like this unless it’s something that will actually impact them. You should talk to her, as much as she detests it she is like her brothers and when angry instead of being consumed by emotions like them she turns them off and goes all logical. Easy to have a conversation with if you watch your words,” When Spencer didn’t move Lestrade pushed him slightly making him go over to Y/N.

“Why are you ignoring me?” She turned to him, cup of tea in her hand, she sighed then gave him a strained smile. “Reid, go back to your team,” “Not until you tell me why you’ve been ignoring me?” She gave him a cold look before sighing again. “I have been ignoring you because I like you, Reid. You are going back to America so I am simply distancing myself to get used to not having you around any more. It’s all logical,” 

“You like me?” he was genuinely surprised, he found Y/N cute and even had a bit of a crush on her, something he’d never admit to Morgan but he never thought she liked him back.

“Of course I like you. You are smart and cute and have these small quirks about you. You are funny and a geek and get almost every single of my pop culture references,” Reid just looked at her with fond eyes, she liked him back and was now rambling on about why. It was cute, really cute. He pressed his lips against hers, successfully muffling her rambles. She seemed surprised at first but soon reprocrated the kiss.

“WHO IS THAT GUY KISSING MY BABY SISTER!” The two geniuses broke apart, red and turned to the voice. Seems like Sherlock Holmes had invited himself in and based on the look in his eyes said one thing, the high functioning sociopath was not happy with Reid kissing his sister.

[royalty-fics]

Starry Night

pairing/s: brian may x reader

summary: you and brian are in ravenclaw, and in 6gh year, he finally asks you out

warning/s: fluff, harry potter au

masterlist

Brian had been silent the whole day, which was a normal occurrence, but he didn't correct Freddie of his wrong facts or even rambled on about something he read the day before. He didn't even participate in his Charms class. His friends were worried since that was his favourite subject at Hogwarts.

Though, none of them blamed him— Roger teased him, that bugger— because Brian had asked you out on a date. They knew how long he had liked you, which was almost all of their years at school. Even John, the only huffle, puffed at him for not being brave enough to ask them out. But, now that he had, and he didn't even know what to do!

At the Great Hall, all of the students sat at their respective house tables to eat the delicious dinner that was served. Roger was next to him, gnawing on his fried chicken as Brian played with his soup. The blond stared at him hard, his eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as he chewed on meat.

"Mate, what's wrong?" Brian crinkled his nose, watching the food almost falling out of his friend's mouth. He took a sip out of his goblet, the warm milk settling nicely in his stomach. "Is it because of your date later? Bri, you gotta loosen up a bit, they're just as nervous as you are, see?"

Roger pointed at you, not so subtly, and Brian slapped his hand down. He then looked at you, just sitting a few benches down the table, politely laughing along with your friends. Your eyes found his, so you smiled and waved at him. Brian smiled weakly and waved back, turning to his friend in annoyance.

"You have nothing planned, yeah?" Roger asked him, and he nodded guiltily. He had a hard time figuring out how to impress you. "Okay, hear me out. You guys obviously won't be able to eat dinner, so how about a snack together before curfew? You could even charm something for them."

Brian thought about it; It might just work. He smiled at his friend and patted the blond's back, "This is the only reason why you're in Ravenclaw, mate." Roger retaliated by throwing his chicken bone at him, dramatically wiping his tears.

Tranfigured picnic basket? Check. Sandwiches and crisps? Check. Blue blankets? Check. Did he look good? Maybe.

Standing in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room, Brian patiently waited for you to come down from your dorm. Since he was a prefect, he could get away with being late to curfew for now. He hated abusing his position like this, but he'd do it again if he had another date with you.

Brian heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and as he looked up at you, he wondered if you casted a spell that made him speechless. Or maybe it was only how beautiful you looked. You shyly glanced at him before looking down to see the basket in his hand.

"Hi, Bri." Normally, if his friends called him by the nickname, he wouldn't blush. But, hearing your voice say it, he was warm all over. "Are we heading out?"

"Y-yes, uhm," He stuttered over his words, clearing his throat as you giggled softly. "Well, I noticed that you didn't eat much, so I thought a picnic under the stars would be nice."

"That sounds wonderful." You smiled brightly, reaching out to hook their arm around his. You both walked out the tower and descended to the field. It was quiet, but the silence wasn't suffocating. It was oddly comforting, and he was glad that he didn't have to make any small talk; Brian was pretty sure he would have rambled on and on about something, effectively boring you.

Once you arrived at the field, Brian sadly detached his arm to place one of the blankets on the grass. You sat down and patted the cloth, compelling him to sit next to them. After you settled down, he opened the basket and handed you one of the sandwiches he had prepared.

When you bit down on it, your eyes sparkled happily. "Tuna sandwich? This is my favourite! Did you make it yourself?" You asked him excitedly, finishing the snack in three bites. Brian sighed in relief that you liked it.

"Well, I asked the kitchen elves to help me, but yes I did." He smiled at you as you both relaxed against each other, enjoying the food Brian had brought. Just like that, you chatted about anything and everything, learning more and more about each other. He asked you questions like, "Do you like muggle music?" which garnered him a response, "Yes I do!"

"I could play the guitar for you one day, i-if you'd like," You beamed at him, already excited for that day to come. As you were talking, Brian noticed that you were shivering slightly because of the cool breeze. Bitting his lower lip, he pulled the extra blanket over your shoulders and wrapped it tightly around you. You looked at him with gratitude, and snuggled closer to him. "I have a surprise for you, is that okay?"

Brian waited for their answer in anticipation, hoping you would like it. "Of course, Brian." You smiled sweetly at him and he gulped nervously as he brought out his wand. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a small charm and a bright light flowed out of his wand. The light scattered around you, making it seem like you were surrounded by stars. He gazed at the amazed expression on your face as you slowly sat up to admire the lights. You hesitantly reached out to poke at one, and giggled as it drifted away.

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)," Brian said subconsciously, not able to help himself. It was the truth. The lights glowed softly, illuminating your skin and highlighting your features. You looked at him with wide eyes, the redness of your cheeks and nose visible. When he realized what he said, he stumbled to explain himself. "I mean, you always look beautiful, it's just that-"

Brian was cut off by the warm lips that pressed against his. He froze, only for a moment, before melting into the kiss, slowly moving his lips with yours.

It wasn't like what fiction described. There weren't any fireworks or colours floating around his closed eyes. Instead, a deep affection flooded his heart, overflowing until it poured out of his body. A sense of loss came crashing down on him when you pulled away. Your foreheads were pressed together, as your eyes gazed into each other.

"You don't look half bad, Mr. May," You joked, making him laugh softly, still trying to catch his breath. He leaned in to kiss them one more time, finding your hand to interlock with his. Your head found its place on his shoulder, cuddling closer for his warmth. The tiny lights slowly dimmed, reminding you that you were still outside and that you've been out for far too long. Reluctantly, you stood up and Brian packed up.

As you walked up the stairs to reach the Ravenclaw tower, your hands found each other, uniting once more. When you stepped in the common room, Brian tugged you closer to him, his free hand raised to cup your cheek. He bent down to kiss you again, feeling your hands curl into his hair. You stayed like that for a moment, not wanting to let go of each other just yet. You eventually pulled away, and you smiled at him, slowly walking backwards towards your dorm. You waved at him, your lips caught in between your teeth. "Good night Brian, I had a great time."

"Me too. Is it right for me to assume that there's going to be another date?" Brian asked you quietly, scared that you might say no. He had no reason to worry, though, as you nodded enthusiatically. For the last time that night, you waved goodbye and ascended up the tower. He stood in the middle of the room once again, bewildered that everything had gone so perfectly. His giddy feelings crept up, and he bounded up the seperate tower, eager for the next date to come.

[clairenatural]

destiel, 1.4k. another post-series (15x20 coda?) of the Heaven reunion, this one with trueform!cas :)

“Cas helped.”

Dean looks up at that, and Bobby is looking at him with an easy smile, and Dean waits for the inevitable rush of oh God does he know—but it doesn’t come. He starts to understand what this “at peace” thing is all about.

“Yeah?” he answers, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Is he, uh. Here?”

Bobby turns his smirk back on his beer bottle. “He’ll be along.”

Dean looks from Bobby to the impala, sitting clean and shiny in front of Harvelle’s, and then on to the dirt road that stretches off into the distance. He nods, begins to stand. “I’m gonna go for a drive,” he mumbles to Bobby, who just nods absently and watches him leave.

The Impala is warm, familiar. Grounding. The keys are on the passenger seat, on top of the same box of cassette tapes he’d had since he was 26. He’s glad to have it with him—he hopes Sam is taking good care of the real thing. He hopes Sam has Eileen riding shotgun, Miracle panting in the back. He smiles. They’re all in good hands.

Dean turns on the stereo and the opening bars of Ramble On fill the car, and he realizes the tape playing is the only one that hasn’t been in the box from the beginning. It makes his heart ache—he’s not meant to be listening to this alone. More than anything, though, it reminds him what—who—he’s driving to.

He’ll be along.

Dean drives for what feels like hours but could only be a few minutes—and time doesn’t really exist up here, anyway. He just drives, and the scenery around him shifts with every passing mile, and he doesn’t know where he’s going but he knows he’s driving until.

Until ends up being a field off the highway that opens up in front of him as he turns the bend. The sky darkens as he pulls up, and it’s a clearer night sky than he’d ever seen down below, and it looks just like one of the fields Cas would always make him pull over at on the way back from a hunt, just for a few minutes, just to see the stars.

He pulls the car into the shoulder and steps out, walks until he’s in the middle of the field, and stops. He looks up—but he is up, and how do you pray to a place you’re already in?

“Cas—” he starts, but he’s barely done with the syllable before a cold wind blows past him and he feels something behind him. A presence. Him.

Okay, so maybe he was overthinking the praying part.

Dean turns slowly, and all his breath leaves his body at the sight of the angel before him. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—he’s in Heaven, obviously, and angels, well—this is just what they look like. And this angel, well—

Castiel is towering. Approximately the size of your Chrysler building, Dean remembers. He’s many-headed, a mass of wings and eyes, a being made of pure light. Dean half expects him to start with be not afraid, but he doesn’t—he doesn’t say anything—and Dean isn’t afraid. This is right, he thinks. This is beautiful.

“Castiel,” Dean breathes, the full name leaving his lips for the first time in years, and the angel glows brighter at the sound of it.

Hello, Dean. He speaks without speaking, as if the words are being projected straight into Dean’s mind. His whole body reverberates with them. You’re early.

Dean smiles, and it’s a bittersweet thing. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t too eager to get up here, either.”

He can’t explain what, but something about the angel feels sad.

“You, uh—last time, you kinda left in a rush. Didn’t let me say anything,” he continues, both to shut down any more death talk and also because if he doesn’t say anything now he’ll chicken out for another century.

My apologies. I wasn’t intending on seeing you again.

Dean throws both his arms out. “That’s the point, man! You can’t just drop something like that on a guy and die.” There’s something almost absurd about chastising an Angel of the Lord in his true form, but Dean doesn’t care. His whole damn life had been absurd.

There’s a silence. Dean can almost see the way Cas would be shifting on his feet, if he still had feet to shift on.

I’ll try not to do it again, he says, finally, and Dean can’t help but grin.

“Yeah, you better not. At least not without letting me tell you that I love you too, you asshole.”

There wasn’t much sound to begin with, but any ambient noise around stops. For the first time since he arrived Heaven is silent, except for a low buzzing he slowly realizes is coming from the being in front of him. He suddenly remembers sparks of electricity and shattering lightbulbs.  

You love me?

Dean laughs again, nervous now. “Yeah, I do. I mean—I have. You know. For…a while.”

There’s another moment that is too still, too quiet, before Castiel moves—something that could be a wing reaches out for him, and Dean should be terrified, but he’s not. He lets the light touch his cheek and closes his eyes. It’s warm. It’s pure.

Slowly, the light-wing becomes more and more solid, more and more hand-shaped, until Dean feels the weight of a human palm on his face. He opens his eyes and meets familiar blue ones. He grins. “Heya, Cas.”

There’s still an apprehension in Cas’ eyes, which Dean hates. “You love me,” he repeats, out loud this time.

“Yeah,” Dean confirms.

“I don’t understand.” Cas drops his hand from Dean’s face but Dean catches it in his own, links their fingers together.

“It’s three words, Cas. Pretty self-explanatory.”

“But you said it to my true—to me.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, dumbass. I love you.”

Cas is still staring at him like something isn’t clicking. He takes a deep breath. “Dean, you know that—what I said, just saying it, that was enough…I don’t need you to—"

“Hey, Cas?” Dean cuts him off, and he stops rambling. “You know what you said, about wanting something you can’t have?”

Cas nods.

“I’m telling you that you can have it.”

Cas blinks at him, and then it’s like everything slides into place, and he’s grinning and reaching back up for Dean’s face, and then—then they’re kissing. Dean is in literal Heaven, kissing an angel, and it’s—well. It’s perfect.

When they finally move apart, it’s not far, and Cas doesn’t drop his hands. Dean leans their foreheads together and they stay there, breathing together, until Cas breaks the silence.

“I was going to come back.” Dean has his eyes closed but he opens them at that.

“Hmm?”

“I was going to come back,” Cas repeats, louder this time, pulling back enough to look Dean in the eye. “Dean, I promise—Jack needed help repairing Heaven, but after that I was going to come back to you. And Sam. I just didn’t expect—”

Dean gets it. He does. “Hey, I didn’t either.”

Cas shakes his head, as if Dean isn’t getting it. “Yes, but, if I had been there—”

And nope. No. They’re not going there. “Cas,” Dean cuts him off, stern but not unkind. “It’s okay. You weren’t, and it happened, and that’s—it’s okay.”

“Is it?” Cas is staring at him, earnest and sad, and the sadness is heavy, and—well. No, it’s not.

“It’s not—I ain’t too thrilled about being dead, alright? But it also ain’t your fault, and I figure I’ve got an eternity to mourn myself, so…” Dean tightens his hold around Cas’ waist. “Can we just. Have this, right now?”

Cas smiles at him, and it’s still sad, but it’s a start. He strokes his thumb along Dean’s cheekbone. “We can have it forever,” he promises. 

Dean smiles back as he leans in again.

[harryspet]

off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing 

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes​  @disaster-rose​​ @sexyxseabassx​ @marvelmaree​

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!” 

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed. 

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously. 

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold. 

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew. 

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!” 

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?” 

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much. 

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

+

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark. 

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket. 

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.” 

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder. 

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen. 

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain. 

“Are you embarrassed by me?” 

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!” 

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye. 

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans. 

That feeling didn’t last long. 

+

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place. 

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!” 

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you. 

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling,  “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness. 

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness. 

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. 

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice. 

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road. 

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress. 

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them. 

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did. 

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored. 

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled. 

+

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.  

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come. 

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag. 

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside. 

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy. 

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside. 

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday. 

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly. 

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper. 

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …” 

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking. 

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded. 

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips. 

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

+

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch. 

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in. 

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie. 

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote. 

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

+

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

[luvyanfei]

I just recently found your blog and I really love how you write ^^

I was wondering if I may request hcs of Zhongli and Albedo with a curious / knowledge thirsty s/o? Thank you in advance! ❤

kisjijf ur brain is so massive!!! thank u for the request!!

albedo.

he finds it endearing how curious you are, asking him questions about his experiments and what-not. sometimes, albedo worries that his occupation will annoy you since he’s barely free, but the fact that you’re okay with it pleases him. it makes him feel elated whenever you ask him if it’s alright for you to accompany him during his research. going to dragonspine is a freezing location roaming with dangerous enemies, but he’s made sure you’ll be safe as long as you’re with him.

wearing a heavy winter jacket to protect you from the frigid cold, you walk with hands linked together. he guides you to his personal lab sheltered away in a small cave, holding onto you tightly so you don’t accidentally slip on ice or anything of that sort. once you finally enter a place of security, albedo keenly observes you as you look around in amazement, immediately pointing to a few of his equipment and asking him to tell you what they are.

he answers all your questions with the utmost patience. sure, it would probably irk him a bit if anyone else behaved like this, but you’re different. a sort of different that he can’t quite place his finger on. maybe, it’s because your curiosity seems more adorable and pure than bothersome and nosy. yeah, that’s probably it.

albedo will still try to spare some time for you to go on what’s deemed as an idyllic date, but you’re quick to soothe his guilt by saying you’re having a lot of enjoyment at being able to aid in his research and expanding your knowledge! as long as you’re spending time with him, no matter what you’re doing or where you are, you’re perfectly content.

“albedo, i’ve been wondering, is there anything you’re actually not educated in?”

“hmm,” the light-haired man pauses his brief sketching and brings a finger up to his chin, “there is one thing i want to know.”

“and that is?” a hand presses itself on the wall beside your head as albedo leans in very close, his free hand combing through your hair. you wait for him to continue on with bated breath, heart drumming violently from his sudden action.

he doesn’t answer immediately, kissing you daintily on the forehead before his lips break into a smirk, drinking in your flustered expression.

“well, i’ve never been well-adept in the field of love, and i’m quite curious to find out the reason why my heart tends to skip a beat whenever i see you. so, care to assist me in seeking the answer?”  

zhongli.

you’re honestly a good match for him! zhongli is a rather talkative person who tends to ramble about liyue’s history and other topics that may bore the average person, but you’re one of the rare cases that will take delight in his chattering. he’s not bragging or anything about his library of knowledge, zhongli just tends to get kind of lonely to have no one to share his stories with.

a tiny part of him was a bit suspicious of your personality, the thought that you’re putting up a façade crossed his mind, but it’s long since vanished from his mind. he’s been in your presence for quite a while now to know for sure you’re being genuine, just from your body language alone.

the way you unconsciously lean towards him in an attempt to hear his every word and how your eyes light up whenever he talks about something you’re uneducated about - zhongli savors these little, cute habits of yours. he’s unofficially labelled himself as a sagacious mentor and you his cherished student. he takes his role very seriously, in a somewhat comedic way.

he’ll have you attend ‘field-trips’ with him, only because it’s better if you comprehend history by actually seeing the real thing instead of relying heavily on secondary sources. zhongli is also generous enough to quiz you at the library once you return back from your expeditions. he tries to make it suited to your taste, however, and will offer you plentiful of methods for you to memorize until you can basically mutter it all coherently in your sleep.

zhongli looks up from the novel he’s invested his time in when he feels a light tug on his sleeve and smiles at you kindly. “what is it, my love?” his voice is smooth and calming, like the lapping of waves on the shore.

“zhongli, what does this word mean?” you point at a specific section of the book you’re reading and adjusts your hold on it so he can get a better view.

he only needs to spare a single glimpse till he’s figured out the solution to all your complications, so why shouldn’t this be any different. however, he stares at the page in evident confusion. “i’m afraid i can’t offer you a definition of what the word ‘mimsy’ means."

you shrug your shoulders in understanding. “fair enough. the story is rather nonsensical, perhaps illogical at times, if i may add.” the geo archon nods tenderly, grasping your hand in his.

“then, do you find our relationship to be ‘rather nonsensical’?” zhongli murmurs softly. you never did expect you would end up dating an immortal, but life is full of surprises, as the saying goes, and it’s applicable to yours.

“it should, but for some reason, i think it makes perfect sense!”

[bcdwhcre]

OMG a Levi imagine where he hears a commotion outside his room in the middle of the night and when he opens the door the reader, who’s a young cadet, gets scared and falls with an injured bird in their hand. Over time Levi grows more protective of the reader because ever since that night they remind him more and more of Isabel? TY BESTIE ILY 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

“Protect,” Levi x Reader

you request, I deliver

Summary: Levi being the over protective soft baby he is

Warnings: none

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It was getting rather late, the sun was setting and you were too busy being outside and enjoying the sun going down, the sky bursting into beautiful colors that had you in awe.

And even when it had gotten dark, you laid outside and watched the stars shine brightly above you. It made you feel somewhat normal in this messed up world.

You didn’t realize how late it really was, you just laid there until you heard some noises in the distance, a bird still chirping but it was odd considering you were sure it was the middle of the night.

Your feet made its way to the source of the noise, gasping when you noticed the small bird with a broken wing and instantly you had picked it up, your feet almost running inside and down the long hallway where everyone slept in their rooms.

You turned the corner a little too fast and stumbled a bit, hitting the wall with your elbow and you winced at the sharp pain running through your arm then your eyes widened when you heard a door creek open.

Levi’s tired eyes, still half asleep and only in a pair of sweatpants when he met your gaze, the grumpy look on his face told you that you woke him up and you had a look of terror written across your face.

“Cadet, it’s past midnight. What are you doing?” He said, annoyance dripping off his tongue and you began to stutter, your words getting caught in your throat.

“I, I’m so sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to wake you, I just found this bird with a broken wing and I had to come bring it inside and I rushed-“ Levi raised his hand, cutting your rambling story short.

“Okay okay, I get it.” He put his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose and then moved his eyes to the bird down in your hands.

He glanced back up at you, seeing your cheeks turn a dark shade of red as he followed your eyes down to his bare chest. He grunted, making your eyes snap up to his and you gulped.

“Wait here.” He mumbled, shutting the door behind him and you stood there awkwardly.

You had already forgotten about him once you took a look at the bird, in awe at it as it sat in your hands and you moved your finger to gently pet it’s head.

“You’re so cute.” You whispered, practically talking to the small animal and you didn’t realize Levi had opened up his door, hearing everything you were saying.

He stood there for a moment, noticing how clueless you were to his presence but he found your actions pretty cute, he couldn’t help but watch for a while longer until your eyes had randomly moved up and got startled when you see him staring at you.

Levi chuckled, fully stepping out of his bedroom and gesturing you to follow him down the hallway to where the infirmary was. He had helped you grab a few things and even helped you wrap the birds wing with some bandages.

He couldn’t help but watch you again, the memories of Isabel flooding his head and it made you remind him of her. A frown came across his lips, the guilt weighing him down at the thoughts of Isabel.

“Levi?” He snapped out of it, his eyes meeting yours as you put the bird in a small box and put it in one of the empty rooms.

“Hm?”

“You can go back to bed if you want to, I’m sorry for waking you.” You walked beside him down the long hallway and he stopped once you both made it to your bedroom door.

“Don’t be, it was an eventful night.” He smiled at you, patting your upper arm then turning around to walk to his room once he said goodnight.

The walk back to his room wasn’t long but the whole time his mind kept thinking about Isabel. He had tried to erase her from his mind but it was nearly impossible, that was his close friend and he felt at fault for her death.

Now you sat in front of him, almost a spitting image and he had to think as to why he never thought about it before. All the times he’s worked with you and watched you on the field, you didn’t remind him of her but when it came to your clumsiness, your urge to help anyone or anything, your nervous state, the way you stuttered when you were nervous- it all reminded him of her.

He groaned, laying back in bed and staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t even bother sleeping that night, his thoughts were flooded and he couldn’t make his mind blank long enough for him to sleep.

When the next day rolled around, he had walked down the hall towards the room the bird was put in for the time being. He peaked in and saw you in there, feeding it.

As the flashbacks of Isabel ran through his head again, he shook his head and walked inside making sure to close the door behind him.

“Is the bird alright?” He asked you, his feet moving across the room to look down at the box.

“I think so.”

You seemed happy and he watched the smile on your face grow the more the bird ate the seeds from your hands.

As days went by, Levi made sure to check on the bird everyday and every time he did you were always in there taking care of it until the birds wing had fully healed.

“C’mon, you have to come outside since you technically helped me.” You dragged him outside by his hand with the box with the bird in your other hand.

Levi scoffed, letting you drag him until you two were fully stepped outside. The sun was setting slowly, the burst of colors in the sky had made you smile and feel warm. His eyes moved down to you, his heart swelling up and the more he stuck around with you the last few days with this bird, the more he was sure you were a mini Isabel.

A small smile had spread across his face, he didn’t even care about the bird, his eyes were on you the entire time you took the top off the box and watched the bird fly away.

The way your face lit up at the sight, watching the bird fly away across the orange and pink sky. The big smile on your face made Levi happy for you.

The other cadets had thought it was weird and funny seeing you in such a state like this over a bird. Jean and Connie had told you multiple times how dumb it was for you to even take a bird in and try to take care of it but Levi would step in each time to make sure they were put in their place, for you.

He felt the urge to protect your fragile heart and make sure you were happy. It wasn’t really a romantic feeling but it was like a overprotective bear, watching over his cubs.

Considering how much you reminded him of Isabel, he made sure to keep you safe since he couldn’t do it for her.

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I’m sad now

Also I’m thinking about taking more time on my writings. I feel like from the beginning to now I’ve been trying to rush through them bc you guys seem to love them and I just want to make sure they’re not short and boring bc I’m rushing :((

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[ibis-gt]

I honestly would love to read about the first time Cam finds out Luther is shrinking because he has feelings for him. In that hanahaki disease au.

ask and ye shall receive.... cam figures it out. just shy of 2000 words.

~~~

“Aaaand… there,” Cam said, and gave the screwdriver one final twist. He pulled on the little contraption in front of him a few times to test its stability and sat back on his haunches, finally satisfied. “You’re all set.”

It is one of four little rope and pulley elevator systems that he’d set up around Luther’s apartment. It consisted of a small wooden plank that Luther could stand on and use the rope system to raise or lower himself. Each one was operable at height ranges between about a foot and a half to four inches. They let him get up onto his sofa, his bed, the kitchen counter, and the bathroom sink.

“You really didn’t have to do all that,” Luther protested from his position just behind Cam. “I mean, I don’t get that small that often, I probably won’t use them that much.”

Cam laughed and pushed a stray wisp of hair out of his face, looking up at Luther. “What are you talking about? You’re always shrinking around me. It’s okay, I’m happy to help. That’s what friends are for.” He watched the usual blush spread across Luther’s face, the telltale shiver run down his spine, and smiled as Luther shrank another inch. He’d lost some height here and there during the installation process as they chatted, and had gone down to about five foot even, if Cam had to guess. “Anyway, you let me know if you have any trouble with these, and I’ll be over to fix ‘em as soon as I can. And there’s the bells if you’re in any real trouble - those strings there, see? They’re hooked up to a bell in my apartment, ring that and I’ll come right over.”

“My cat’ll have a field day with them,” Luther murmured, brow furrowing. “Maybe we should do something other than string.”

Cam chewed on the end of his screwdriver in contemplation. “Hm. Good point. I’ll figure something out later.” He slipped the screwdriver in his toolbelt and slapped his hands on thighs as he stood up. “Well! I’d better get back to my place and start dinner. You’re coming over, right?”

“Oh! As long as it’s not an imposition? I mean, I don’t want to be any trouble…”

“Nah, s’alright, you’re always welcome. Spaghetti and meatballs tonight. See you in an hour?”

Luther’s blush deepened and he lost another two inches. “S-see you then,” he managed.

Cam chuckled fondly to himself as he left. He tried not to think of Luther’s condition as cute or funny, because when the shrinking was really bad it put the poor guy in danger. But he couldn’t help but find it amusing when Luther lost just a little height, ending up just a slightly shorter version of himself. And when he went on one of his long rambles and shrank a little bit at a time all throughout, it put Cam in mind of a deflating balloon, which was just too silly not to laugh at. And when he ended up really tiny, and he was just like a little doll, and fit so perfectly in the palm of Cam’s hand…

Cam shook his head to clear his thoughts. No, that was too far. He shouldn’t think like that, no doubt it was terrifying for Luther to be so small and vulnerable. He sighed as he shouldered his door open, hands full of leftover wood and string. He set them on the little table where he kept his keys by the door, then unbuckled his toolbelt and hung it on the coat rack, lost in thought.

He’d been puzzling over what caused Luther to shrink for a while now. Was it just at random? Was it like an allergic reaction, and some kind of food or environmental thing kicked it off? He had a brief vision of Luther sneezing and instantly shrinking down to bug size. No, knock it off, he chastised himself, not funny. A little funny. But don’t laugh at it.

Anyway, he hadn’t seen Luther ever sneeze when he shrank, so that probably wasn’t it. What were the symptoms? He’d make a list, that would help him narrow it down.

Cam slipped an apron over his head - one of the novelty ones his sister kept getting him, he didn’t bother to read the witty joke about buns printed on the front - and started on the dough for his spaghetti. Whenever possible, he liked to make things from scratch. Besides, having something to do with his hands let his mind work better. He worked the problem around in his mind just like he worked the dough in front of him, kneading it, pushing it around, looking at it from different angles.

So. What were the warning signs? Luther tended to get awkward and shy just before he shrank. He’d blush, stammer or trip over his words, either avoid eye contact or stare like he couldn’t look away, and of course the final sign was that signature shiver right before a loss of height. A lot of those symptoms could be attributed to anxiety as well - was that what triggered the shrinking, just whenever he was anxious? But that couldn’t be it, Luther had been anxious plenty of times without shrinking. Not to mention he worked a high-stress job, waiting tables at a local diner, and wouldn’t be able to make it through the day if anxiety made him shrink. So that wasn’t it.

Cam rolled the dough out flat and cut it into strips. He hung the fresh noodles up to dry and put water on to boil, then opened the fridge and pulled out the meatballs he’d shaped that morning.

His brain kept chugging along on the issue as he worked, hands going on automatic. He came back to the present long enough to taste the sauce he’d made, hem and haw, and add a little more garlic, then went right back to it. There was something tugging at the back of his mind, trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

A sound startled him out of his thoughts - the ringing of a bell.

“Shoot,” Cam hissed, dropping the sauce spoon. It clattered onto the stove and left little pools of sauce cooling on the glass surface. He’d deal with that later though, Luther needed him now. He switched the burners to low and headed for the door.

Luther’s door was locked, so he had to duck back inside his apartment to grab the spare key. He opened the door slowly and called out.

“Luther? Was that just the cat, or do you need me?” Cam scanned the room, looking for that distinctive neon green jumpsuit. It clashed horribly with everything, but it was useful for spotting him when he ended up tiny. Sure enough, there he was by the strings for the bell, waving an arm to get Cam’s attention. He was easy to spot, as far as things went, standing about a foot tall. Cam hurried over.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need help?” Cam took a knee in front of Luther and leaned in close, inspecting him for injuries. Luther took a step back, startled by the sudden rush of worry, and Cam made himself pull back as well. It had to be scary to have someone looming over you like that, he told himself, give him a little space.

“I-I’m fine,” Luther said. “I just… well, this happened, and now I can’t really open my door, so I was hoping you could give me a lift over for dinner? Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve used the bell. I could’ve texted you.”

The tension flooded out of Cam and he laughed in relief. “No, that’s fine, I just jumped to conclusions. I can give you a lift, sure.” He cupped his hands and held them out to Luther, who climbed on and settled in, sitting down with his legs crossed. Cam rose slowly, being careful not to jostle Luther, and began to amble back towards the door. A thought occurred to him.

“What did it?” Cam asked.

Luther looked up, startled. “What did what?”

‘“What made you shrink this time? I’ve been trying to work it out on my own and I’m just not getting it. There’s gotta be a common thread, right, you’re not just shrinking at random?”

Luther stared at him in open-mouthed shock, face growing steadily redder.

“I mean,” Cam continued, “if you were just shrinking at random, it’d be hard to hold down a job, y’know? Do you ever shrink at work? And anyway, didn’t you say - ” His eyes widened as that thing that had been nagging at him finally became clear. “You said you don’t shrink all the time! But you shrink pretty often whenever I’m around. Am I doing it, somehow?”

“No, no, no,” Luther said hurriedly, but Cam could feel him getting smaller.

“Oh, liar!” Cam chortled. “Nice try, Pinnochio, but I’m literally holding you right now. Is it actually me?”

“It’s - it’s not - not always?” Luther was practically cowering away from him now, and Cam realized he’d been a little harsh.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry. Look, we don’t have to talk about it, okay? It’s your business, I shouldn’t’ve pried.”

“No, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, it’s just… hard to say out loud, um…” Luther fidgeted with the collar of his jumpsuit, avoiding Cam’s eyes. He was red as a tomato, mouth drawn up in an adorable little pout, and so small and cute that Cam’s heart ached. Then it clicked.

“Oh. Is it me, like… because you like me?” Cam asked. “Like, you have a crush on me, is that it?”

Luther let out a sound like a tea kettle whistling, shrinking down at an alarming rate to only five inches tall. Cam couldn’t help himself. He laughed so hard he snorted. When he finally got a hold on himself again, the wounded look on Luther’s face sobered him instantly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but you don’t know how long I’ve been trying to work this out, and the answer’s been right in front of my face the whole time! I swear I’m laughing at myself, not at you. Anyway, you wanna go out sometime?”

Luther gaped up at him for a long moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Finally he shut his mouth and nodded furiously. Cam grinned.

“Or this could be like our first date, right? I’ll get some candles and dim the lights. We could even 'Lady and the Tramp' it with the spaghetti! Or - okay, okay, sorry, I’ll stop.” Luther had started to shrink again, and Cam didn’t want his cooking to go to waste just because his guest was too small to eat it. “Hey, I joke a lot, but I want you to know I’m being serious here,” he said gently. “I’d like to go out with you, if you’re alright with it. Is it going to cause problems, though? Like are you going to shrink every time we’re together?”

Luther shifted and looked away, finally finding his voice. “I - I don’t know. The doctor said if I told you about how I felt, it would get easier. But he didn’t say it would go away entirely… if that’s not something you want to put up with, we don’t have to - ”

“No, no, that’s fine, I don’t mind it. Just if it was a problem for you, is all. I like you a lot, Luther. I’d love to be your partner, if you’ll have me.”

Luther looked back up at Cam with a huge, genuine, relieved smile on his teeny tiny face. Cam’s heart melted.

“I’d like that.”

[say-narry]

Ride it

Characters: Harry!husband x Reader

Word count: ~1.8K

Warnings: insinuations, oral sex, explicit sex

Author's note: I don't know much about basketball, but here it is. Again, English is not my first language.

Versão em PT-BR

***

I felt that sometimes Harry didn't learn how competitive I was, even after years of marriage. We had a bet on which of our favorite basketball teams would win tonight and well, I won.

We were at an NBA championship game, me rooting for my big Lakers and Harry for the Celtics.

Between dunks and shots, Lakers won 81-71. It was a good game for both teams and even better for me.

I avoided my little victory dance so as not to hurt Harry, he hated to lose and I knew how hurt he was like a kid without dessert, so since he had lost, I just clapped my hands and smiled.

After leaving the crowd that came to take a picture with Harry, even the Lakers fans, we had made it into the car. I just glared suggestively at Harry and he just ignored me or stuck out his tongue like a tantruming child.

What can I do? He invented this and also the payment of the bet, my team just did their job.

We put on our seat belts and Harry started the car.

Harry hummed softly and I bit the ligaments in my fingers with my elbow against the car door, while H drove through the streets of Los Angeles.

The music had changed from quiet to more upbeat, I loved it, and like cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head.

I still hadn't thought for sure what my prize would be, but Harry, if I had won we would have to do heavier banter in public, since I was very reserved being a kindergarten teacher, but I think I might go further tonight.

"Let it be, let it be, let it be known..." I began "Touching and teasing me, telling me no, but this time I need to feel you..." I held Harry's hand that rested on the backrest between us. He pulled it lightly and kissed it, without taking his lips off the road, I couldn't wait to have fun tonight.

***

We arrived a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom in our suite while Harry activated our house alarm.

I literally ran through the shower, grabbed the lilac silk camisole that barely covered my buttocks. I had bought it the day after we had placed the bet, but I hadn't told Harry, I wanted him to have fun too if I won.

Grabbing my perfume from the huge shelf in our bathroom, I sprayed it on my neck, between my breasts and wrists. I untied my hair and that was it.

A beautiful hot girl.

I lay down in the middle of our bed and crossed my legs waiting for Harry to arrive, I grabbed my cell phone that I had left on the bedside table and looked for a song in the playlist setting it on the TV installed on the wall of the room.

"Babe, how about we plant..." Harry opened the door and faced me "...Daisies outside, but what's that? I lost the bet..." His mischievous grin appeared in moments.

"We can both win the bet, Mr. Styles." I blinked returning the smile.

Harry was wearing a white button down shirt with sleeves, there was a Celtics logo printed on it with dark maroon pants matching the top and black all stars.

His hand hooked on the first button of his blouse, but I stopped him.

"No sir... I want to see you take off your clothes, but slowly and with background music." I lifted my body and spread my legs a little, giving Harry the view to see that I was wearing the panties he loved most on my body.

Grabbing the TV remote, I put the music on. Harry had his hands resting on his waist, his cheeks had blushed repeatedly and his head was shaking negatively.

"Come on, baby... This will be my prize," I whimpered a little.

"A strip tease, honey? You swear?" He laughed nervously, he really didn't expect it.

"I've already done it for you and you know how much I like this song. I stood up and went bouncing over to Harry, his hands sliding from my waist to my buttocks, where I could feel his fingers pressing hard into my flesh to the point where I could feel the frosting of his rings.

Kissing the jaw that I idolized so much, I moved slowly down to Harry's neck, and he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

I kissed him and turned my back to the edge of the bed, biting my lips to hold back my victory shout.

I went back to the music from the beginning after groping around the bed for my cell phone, Harry had dimmed the light even more, letting only the brightness of the full moon shining through the glass illuminate his body.

Harry's fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing the tattoo of birds and the butterfly on top of his belly.

He looked down at me, his eyes staring into mine as I felt my breathing become heavy. I didn't deny how much power Harry had over me, nothing to do with S&M, but he exuded sympathy and sensuality, and it held me in a surprising way.

As soon as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, it fell from his shoulders to the floor, I don't know if he had done it on purpose as I rambled on, but the V-shaped line giving the path to my happiness was showing in conjunction with the branch tattoos.

I could feel my panties getting wet. Harry blinked slowly at me, which made me bite my lips as a reflex.

Holding the button of his pants like it was the heaviest thing in the world, Harry brought out his tattooed biceps, I wanted him to hold me tight with those arms and I had Harry's physical trainer to thank for that, he really went all out with his training routines.

The button on his pants was like a signal to come back from my thoughts "Stop dreaming and focus on me, (Y/N), I'm here and I'm your man!"

Okay, I am no longer feeling my legs, only the river that had formed between them.

Walking slowly over to me, Harry held my face tilting it so that I could look at him. I struggled to find words due to the closeness and warmth being emanated from the palm of his hands. "I'm just admiring you, Hazz..."

Leaning his face up to my ear, Harry let out "I make you hot, baby girl?" I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I noticed his erection strongly marking his pants, making my mouth water, I just moaned softly in agreement.

With that, he planted a kiss just below my ear before continuing down my neck and along my collarbone. His teeth brushed against my skin a few times, but the feel of his tongue soothing each spot made me cry out for him between softer moans.

Over the top of the sweater, he reached for my breasts, Harry kneading them, until his fingers laced through the shoulder straps and down my arms.

Putting one knee between my legs, Harry slipped his arm around my waist and pushed my body to the middle of the bed.

Lying on top of me and with my breasts already showing, he deftly caressed one while his mouth worked on another nipple, gently flicking and swirling his tongue around it.

I arched my back involuntarily and my fingers tugged at his hair with the sensation. "Harry." I sighed his name between the faint moans escaping my lips.

"You are as sweet as your scent, my woman," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to taste you for the rest of my life, know this."

"Hmm" I murmur as he moves to stand between my legs, gently pulling my panties down in one swift motion. He settles into place, kissing the inside of my thigh, stopping before where I needed it most, doing the same with my other thigh. "Stop teasing," I beg.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Patience, dear."

But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he runs his finger through my folds, stopping at my clit, applying enough pressure to make my head fall back against the pillow.

He quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, kissing my clit before sliding his tongue down my slit, teasing my already wet entrance.

Harry places his mouth back on my clit, swirling his tongue around and flicking it. He hums against me, enjoying the noises he is causing in me, and my back arches out of the bed.

"Don't stop," I exhale with my eyes closed.

I feel him shove two fingers inside me, and from that moment on, I that I wouldn't last much longer. As he pumped his fingers firmly, I could feel that euphoria approaching fast.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted. "Fuck!"

"Mhm," he hums against me, "But already, my love?"

My eyes close harder as the orgasm coursed through my body.

My thighs trembled as Harry continues to work. He slowed the movement of his fingers and used his other hand to rub his side gently.

When I opened my eyes again, his face was in front of me. "Hi," he whispers and leans in for a brief kiss.

Time to reciprocate, I thought already stretching my hand towards his member, he interrupts me by grabbing my wrist and I face him "Today is about the winner...," he says. "And now, I need to be inside you." "I like that, love..." I confessed. With a teasing laugh, Harry kneels between my legs and removes his pants with his underwear, leaving his cock pointed up and with its lubricated little head in my field of vision.

Without time to think much, my admiration turns into a groan as I feel him begin to thrust into me.

"Great game, lovie!" he teases and I let out a gasping laugh. He gives me a second to relax and adjust, nudging his side and taking my hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Still with me?"

I exhale and smile at him. "Yes, keep going."

It takes a few strokes before he is fully in me, Harry sets a steady pace, and I revel in the pleasure.

"Shit," he utters. "Do you feel as good as I do, baby?"

I can't say much except moan as I feel him stretching me taut. Harry places his thumb on my clit and begins rubbing in tight circles. My eyes almost roll back, and I can feel the next orgasm growing inside me.

"I'm close," he groans hoarsely. "I want you to cum with me, baby."

I whimper as I hear his tone and nod my head. His movements become faster and his breathing becomes more irregular.

"Oh, God," I say choking, as my body begins to tremble with his second orgasm. "So good, Harry..."

The supreme sensation makes me involuntarily squeeze his member inside me. Harry stands still and settles down, and with a groan, I feel him release himself inside me.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath. I rub his back slowly, feeling my fingernails leave some marks.

When he lifts his head, Harry had a few drops of sweat all over his face, but without taking my beloved smile away... "I never thought I would say this, but I hope the Lakers win more often from now on."

I give a muffled laugh stealing a kiss.

Lakers... win again, please.

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

Hey you! If you like it, please tell me to keep encouraging me.

[echos-newlegs]

Hello There! I was wondering if you'd write 11 an 13 for Tech, please? I may request some other stuff for my favourite bad batcher and maybe even Rex later, but if you did that one i would be so happy!!! Have fun writing!! “I think I may be falling in love with you, and it scares me.." + “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

What's with you?

Bro he has been on my mind non stop since I read this request. He is literally so cute and I love him. He needs more love 😔 so thank you for sharing this and yes, yes I will be writing a story about this because these ideas you have are ADORABLE-

Tech x Reader: "I think I may be falling in love with you and it scares me.." + "I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand."

Warnings: nothing but fluff

You and Tech out of the bad batch were two of the closest. You were a no body before you met the bad batch. You studied things, a scientist of sorts. Though nothing official. You did do a lot of things when it came to researching and trying to come up with theories for why things happened. Plus you were good with your hands when it came to building things. So, instinctively. Hunter took you in, along with everyone else.

You didn’t really have a family. Where you grew up you were lucky you were still even alive. Though, Tech was obviously thankful. He cared for you so much. Even just the after the first time you spoke with him. You were shy at first, but after some warming up you were rather obnoxious. Plus. You knew your stuff, and the two of you could have a conversation on everything and anything for hours on end.

Useless information was your game, and you loved that you finally had someone to share it with.

It didn’t take long for you both to develop feelings. You were both fairly good at hiding it though. You were never one that was good with expressing feelings. The fear of abandonment and ruining the friendship you had always lurked in your conscious.

Tech was just scared. He had never felt this way before. Sure he’s had a couple hookups from 79’s, but never anything that mad him feel like you do. How you make him smile anytime even just a thought of you crosses his mind. How he gets butterflies in his stomach from just your laugh.

Or how his mind lurks and picks up the things you like. From how you enjoy your caf, to your favorite candies or flowers.

Or the thoughts that lurk within his mind when he’s alone and no one else is around.

He was so scared of all of it though. He was a clone. A defective one for Makers sake! He couldn’t like someone when his sole purpose in life was to fight and then be killed off like every other clone on existence. No thought to it, no remorse. No remembrance.

Though, one day when Hunter caught him staring at you while you were target practicing with Crosshair. Hunter told him something that made him a little less scared of the whole ordeal.

“You know it’s okay to like y/n, right?” Tech was shocked by his words. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “Ah-what? I don’t- don’t be ridiculous.” He would stammer. A nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Vod, don’t lie to me, I see the way you look at them.” He spoke, “I can sense the way you both feel for each other. Why don’t you do something about it? Live your life, enjoy what you can.” And before he could protest or ask anything Hunter was walking off. Leaving him to ponder.

Both.

It was simple. But it had the gears in his brain turning. Fast enough he nearly felt nauseous. ‘Both? As in y/n has feelings, too?’ He had to be kidding, right? Right. Who would like someone like.. Well like him.

Weeks had passed since that incident and he still thought about it. Hunter shooting him looks when it was just you and Tech talking to one another. Or when you two would sit next to one another. You hadn’t noticed, but Tech did.

So one day out on the field, Hunter had set up the plans where you went with Tech. Tech knew what he was trying to do. He was for sure it wouldn’t work. He was horrible with words when it came to flirting. Plus he knew for a fact that he would get nervous and stammer. Or jumble his words.

The two of you were in a lab like area. Bottles and beakers scattered around. Though your guy’s main interest was the large computer system towards the back. The data base that had all the information you guys needed.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair were out being your distraction while the two of you got to work on hacking into the system. You taking over for a bit while tech worked on something else. You could tell he was nervous, but you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like him. He was normally always comfortable around him. It made you wonder if you did something wrong?

Once the files were transferred Tech grabbed what you two needed, and then your hand. Pulling you out of the room and back to the exit.

You were internally screaming. His fingers laced around your hand. His was a bit larger than yours, and you had never realized it. Not until now. Your heart racing a marathon. Techs was, too.

You let go when he did. Which was when the two of you made it back to the group. “You get it?” Hunter asked, and you nodded. Tech speaking a quick, ‘affirmative.’ You and the rest of the boys heading out of the facility and booking it for the ship.

No use sticking around and waiting for more droids to be deployed.

Hours had passed since the mission, and you were sitting on your bunk after a short shower. You normally were able to relax in the shower, but now? No, you couldn’t. You were still in shock by Techs actions. He was in the cockpit. Flying the ship, and you wanted to ask about it so badly, but you were anxious. It had to be a mistake. You were overthinking it. You had to be.

Though, you were walking to the cockpit without thinking. When you realized it you were already at the door. No use turning back now. You entered, and saw him dozing off in the seat. Ship in hyperdrive. “Oh sorry,” you blurted when he looked up with a tired gaze. “Oh, no, you’re fine.” Tech spoke a bit quickly. “Did you need something?” He asked, moving his goggles to rub his eyes. Then pulled them back down.

You were tempted to back out. Say you were just looking for him and head back for your bunk, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Can I sit with you?” He nodded. Shifting in his seat as you sat in the copilot seat. The door shutting behind you.

He was watching you now. His own curiosity striking him. Thoughts running through his own mind as to why you were there and what you wanted. “I just uhm.. you licked your lips and sighed. Looking down to your hands. Which were fidgeting in your lap. Then back to him. “Why’d you grab my hand earlier?”

You saw him freeze up, and you grew more nervous. “I mean, I don’t mind but you just- you’ve never grabbed my hand before.” You spoke, fidgeting more. “You always just tell me to follow you, I was just wondering, is all.” You rambled. Looking to his eyes, you could practically see his brain turning.

“Well..” he spoke, clearing his throat. Then turning to look back out the front of the ship. “In all honesty, y/n, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.” The bluntness of his own statement shocked the both of you.

You were surprised, and you caught yourself staring off into space, figuratively. Eyes looking back up to Techs face when he looked back to you. Catching his eyes with your own. “Really?” You asked, and watched as his tanned skin turned nearly pink. Your own skin it’s own rosy shad as well. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

You frowned a bit at the apology. Reaching over to place your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t apologize, Tech.” You added, watching as he looked down to your hand then back to your face. “I told you, I didn’t mind.” You grew a bit sheepish. Retracting your hand a bit at your next words. “I liked it, actually.”

He reached up to grab your hand before you could pull it away fully. Turning in his seat to face you completely now. Squeezing at your hand a bit and you looked back with a curious gaze. “Really?” You smiled at the look of hope and shock written in his eyes. “Yeah, really.”

You both stared at each other like love sick teens. Until tech looked down to your hands. Breaking the gaze. “Can I tell you something now?” You nodded, watching as he played with your fingers anxiously. “Of course, what is it, Tech?”

“I think I may be falling in love with you,” his voice was softer and more timid than before. “And it scares me.” He looked up to you, with worried eyes. You were at a loss for words, to say the least. Mouth slightly agape, and his eyes lowered again.

“I went too far, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to upset you,” he let go of your hand and you reached up to place it on his cheek. Shaking your head with a small smile. A smile that screamed, ‘I love you, too.’ “No, Tech, you didn’t go too far. Tech, I think I’m, no— I know I’ve fallen in love with you. I’m just,” you trailed off. “I’m not the best with stating feelings, I have had issues with past relationships and I didn’t want to scare you.” You admitted, and he leaned into your touch. Watching you carefully.

“I’ve just never met anyone else who makes me feel the way you do.” The words made you melt. Leaning forward to hug the other, kissing his cheek. “Well, I’m glad you told me,” he chuckled. Pulling you out of your seat and over to sit on his lap. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “If I waited any longer Hunter would have went insane.” That made you chuckle a bit. Smiling softly as he placed a chaste kiss to your shoulder.

“What does this make us then?” You pulled back to look at him, grinning softly as you rested your head against his forehead. “I guess.. an item? Is that what they call it? Partners, lovers..” your trailed on, and he giggled a bit at that. “I like lovers,” you were internally squealing at that. Smiling as he leant in and pressed a short and soft kiss to your lips. Humming contently. “Lovers it is.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary:  Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn’t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”