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alwaysmicado · 8 months ago

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Sink or swim

12.3k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 8

WARNINGS: 18+, no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, flashbacks (toxic relationship, bad mental health), mention of miscarriage & surgery, smut (nothing too graphic), Tommy Miller x f!reader SUMMARY: You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret. A/N: Guys, it’s finally here!! This part was hard for me to write, but I’m beyond happy with how it turned out. We learn so much about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to share it with you. Have fun reading (even though it’s a bit sad) and please let me know what you think! I wanna know all your thoughts!! 🤍 Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics.

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The ocean stretches before you like a vast expanse of liquid silk, its rhythmic waves kissing the shore with a gentle insistence. The sun, now in its descent towards the horizon, casts a warm glow, painting the water and sand in hues of amber and gold.

You’re perched on a weathered bench, sneakers softly tapping against the sand, lost in thought as you watch the waves roll in.

Dressed in yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt, with an ice cream cone in hand and sunglasses shielding your eyes from the brilliant rays of the setting sun, you blend seamlessly into the serene scene before you.

You appear inconspicuous, just another person soaking up the sun and breathing in the fresh air. No one can see the anguish gnawing at your heart, the tumult in your head, or the pain in your hand that makes you want to scream.

No, no, you look far too calm for that, too composed, too happy.

Besides, what would someone like you possibly have to feel bad about? Seriously. You just love to wallow in your own sadness, don’t you? You haven’t changed at all. You’re still your insecure, annoying, unlovable self. God, even your inner voice is irritating. Do you hear how pathetic you sound? Of course he wouldn’t lov–

Shut up.

You focus on the waves as they dance and sway, their melodic rhythm a soothing balm to the cruel thoughts echoing relentlessly in your mind.

The ocean’s song, a symphony of calming whispers and gentle sighs you’ve loved ever since you were a little girl, envelops you in its embrace, drawing you deeper into a state of quiet reflection. The cool breeze dancing through the air brushes against your sun-kissed skin, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean and the promise of new beginnings.

With a gentle tilt of your head, you take another lick of the strawberry soft serve you bought at the ice cream stand near the boardwalk, feeling the familiar comfort of the cool creaminess dance across your taste buds. It’s been a few months since you last indulged in this particular treat, sharing it with Joel after a rough day at work.

As the cold sweetness melts on your tongue, bittersweet memories of that afternoon flood back with vivid clarity. You can almost hear Joel’s infectious laughter as you scarfed down the icy treat a little too eagerly, his eyes crinkling with amusement at your inevitable brain freeze. But it wasn’t just the shared laughter and playful banter that made this memory so special.

It was Joel’s genuine interest in hearing about your day, about you, his calming presence grounding you and making you momentarily forget all your troubles. He provided you with a warmth that seeped into your bones, a connection that felt effortless yet profound. Like it could be more.

Reflecting on it now, perhaps that should have been a hint that things were more serious than you wanted to admit right from the beginning. Oh well, dwelling on it is futile now. Because you did finally admit it, didn’t you? And not only that, you basically shouted your feelings from the rooftops last night, laying your soul bare.

Fucking embarrassing.

How are you supposed to come back from that? How are you supposed to ever look into Joel’s eyes again?

There’s a reason why you stopped psychotherapy after a few months, there’s a reason why you don’t have any close friends beside Tommy, there’s a reason why your dating life has consisted of a series of superficial hookups over the past couple of years.

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

There’s nothing in the world you fear more than people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

Your innermost thoughts and feelings were on display for Joel to see, leaving you exposed and raw. The memory of your outburst, of his shocked face, weighs heavily on your mind and heart, filling you with a deep sense of shame and regret.

For a moment in that bathroom, you felt yourself transported back to all the times you’d scream at Simon for whatever he did to fuck with your feelings that day, just for him to laugh in your face or call you manipulative when you’d inevitably start crying tears of hurt and frustration.

Does Joel see you differently now, knowing the depths of your insecurities? Will he even want to look you in the eye after witnessing what the real you is like? Have you lost your chance with him, and, did you ever even have one?

You sigh deeply and lick around the top of the ice cream cone to catch the drops threatening to run down, humming at the deliciousness.

You haven’t eaten anything else today, too nauseous from your meds and the knot in the pit of your stomach to find food appetizing. You haven’t slept for more than two consecutive hours, too agitated to find any real peace. You also couldn’t stay home this morning, as your apartment suddenly felt like a cage threatening to suffocate you.

Instead, you’ve spent your day off window shopping, aimlessly wandering from one coffee shop to another, your hands now jittery from too much caffeine on an empty stomach. You’ve ambled down the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds surrounding you, before finding yourself drawn to the familiar comfort of the ocean.

From the corner of your eye, you catch the display on your phone lighting up with Joel’s name, the device resting on the bench beside you alongside your bag.

You know you’ll have to take his calls and talk to him like an adult at some point. And you will. But this moment, this moment right here, belongs to you and your thoughts alone.

And to the hermit crab making its way through the sand just a few feet away from you. Your lips curl into a smile as you watch the determined little creature, impressed by its resilience in such an unforgiving world. Maybe you would’ve been happier if you’d been born as a hermit crab. Who knows.

As you swallow the last bit of your cone and lean back, feeling the sun’s gentle warmth on your skin, you can’t help but think of the first time you found yourself on this bench, watching the sunset. It feels like that was an entire lifetime ago, and yet, you vividly remember the overwhelming exhaustion that weighed you down, the sense of loneliness that engulfed you—how utterly lost you felt.

You allow your thoughts to drift, captivated by the soothing cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

Three years earlier

The sun is down.

Staring into the void, you’re consumed by solitude, the cool breeze coming from the water a thin barrier against the weight pressing on your shoulders. The world seems distant, the murmur of the ocean a mere backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your troubled mind and the beat of your empty heart.

This is it. This is where you were always supposed to be.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, quietly drifting through the corners of your memory. With each passing moment, you meticulously comb through the fragments of the past few months. They offer no solace, only a stark reminder of how you reached this point.

In the stillness of the evening, you find a strange sense of calm, a numbness that dulls the edges of your emotions. Tears refuse to come, leaving only the echo of relief at the resolution of it all.

You open your eyes again, fixating on the endless mirror of the sky before you. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart. The salty tang in the air, the rhythmic melody of the waves, the laughter of birds mingling with the gentle lull of the breeze—everything.

You dig your naked toes into the sand, relishing the connection to the earth beneath you. The sensation is grounding, peaceful, almost–

“Hey there, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

A man’s voice, rugged yet gentle, breaks through the silence, interrupting your thoughts. His words dance in the air, pulling you reluctantly back to the present.

Are you kidding me?

With a slow and deliberate movement, you lift your gaze from the horizon, meeting the eyes of the stranger who has disrupted the sanctuary of your thoughts. You rest your elbows on your knees and sigh deeply.

“Oh my fucking god,” you murmur, rubbing your temples in annoyance and disbelief. “The sun’s been down for two minutes, and the first creep’s already here.”

“Wha–”

You look up at him. “Do you have like a radar or something where you get a notification every time a woman sits alone on a bench somewhere?”

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, his expression caught between confusion and amusement. His brow furrows, his mouth slightly agape as he processes your words. After a moment of absorbing your outlandish accusation, his lips curve into a wry smile.

“Darlin’, I’m just–”

“Look, dude. If you’re here to murder me, could you at least spare me the whole blah blah you’ve got planned and just do it? Thank you.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s not entirely sure if you’re joking, but your sarcastic tone tells him you’re at least not scared of him.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I assure you I got no such plans. Just thought I’d check in on a fellow soul contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at humor. “Yeah, well, I prefer to contemplate in peace.”

When he doesn’t budge and just…stares at you with those big, dark eyes of his, you take a moment to size him up.

Your gaze drifts down from his eyes, tracing the contours of his muscular chest visible beneath a fitted white t-shirt. It lingers briefly on the obnoxiously large belt buckle adorning his waist, then travels down the length of his denim-clad legs to his cowboy boots. Despite the surreal encounter, you can’t help but notice how incredibly attractive he is.

God, what’s wrong with you?

“Look, sweetheart,” he says calmly, his voice a blend of warmth and reassurance. “I’m not trying to get into your business or anything, but it’s gonna get pretty chilly out here soon.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “Do you have somewhere to stay?” he asks. “We could go grab a bite to eat if you want, and my place is right arou–”

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken.

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out.

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?”

Your eyes narrow, fixing on him with a challenging glare, daring him to justify his intrusion into your solitude.

“No,” he responds calmly, his furrowed brow adding gravity to his words. “It’s because I’ve seen enough shit in my life to recognize when someone’s in need.”

The sincerity in his gaze catches you off guard, rendering you momentarily speechless. It’s as if this…stranger is peering into the depths of your soul, seeing past the walls you’ve erected to protect yourself.

His face softens, the lines around his eyes relaxing as he meets yours. “Mind if I take a seat?”

You shrug indifferently, though a flicker of curiosity dances behind your eyes. “Suit yourself.”

He smiles warmly as he settles beside you. “I’m Tommy, by the way,” he offers, extending a hand. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually, you decide to reciprocate by telling him your name and shaking his hand with a soft sigh.

As his hand envelops yours, there’s a brief surge of something unspoken deep inside you, a connection allowing two disparate souls to briefly intertwine before returning to their separate paths again as soon as he lets go.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, darlin’,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, his mustache curling slightly as he smiles at you.

The faint scent of his cologne drifts towards you, mixing with the salty aroma of the sea air. As you gaze at him, your eyes trace the lines etched around his eyes and mouth, evidence of a life fully lived. Strangely, there’s something comforting about his presence, something that makes you feel a little less alone.

You give him a subtle smile before turning your head back towards the ocean, mesmerized by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches you silently, noticing the vacant look in your eyes and the way your gaze seems to be fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon. He furrows his brow slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he contemplates how lost you appear in that moment.

“What are you doing out here, sweetheart?” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence, his tone casual yet curious, as if striking up conversations with strange women on the beach is a regular occurrence for him.

Well, it probably is, you think to yourself.

“I, uh, wanted to watch the sunset,” you answer softly.

“Hm. It’s amazing, isn’t it? Should’ve been here and seen it too instead of wasting my time at that damn bar.”

“Oh? How did you waste your time? Can’t have been that bad, judging by the lipstick stains on your face,” you murmur.

“What? Where?” Tommy blurts out, his eyes widening in surprise as he hastily rubs at his lips and cheeks, searching for any traces of lipstick on his fingers.

You stifle a laugh. “I’m just fucking with you,” you deadpan, shooting him a quick glance.

He stares at you in mock offense for a moment before his lips curl into a wide grin. “Touché,” he says, thoroughly entertained by your dry humor. “But yeah, things didn’t go the way I would’ve liked them to.”

“What, she didn’t wanna go home with you either?”

“Very funny. But no, things were going well.” He sighs dramatically and rubs his forehead. “But then her husband showed up and kinda threw a giant monkey wrench into our plans.”

“Wow, tough break,” you scoff, shaking your head in mock sympathy, “not getting to fuck a married woman. I hate it when that happens.”

Tommy chuckles. “Alright, alright, I didn’t know she was married, for the record. She wasn’t wearing a ring or anything.”

“Sure,” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you cast a skeptical glance in his direction.

“What are you up to, then, darlin’? Hm?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Besides not making out with married women?” You hear Tommy’s laugh beside you and wiggle your toes in the sand. “Just enjoying the ocean, I guess. I’ve missed it.”

“You’re not from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm. You’re gonna love it. There’s lots of cool things to see and do, especially for young people like you.”

You furrow your brow. “Why are you talking like you’re ninety years old and I’m your estranged grandkid?”

“I dunno,” he sighs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess…turning forty did something to me.”

“Married women apparently still throw themselves at you. You’re gonna be fine.”

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that seems to echo across the beach. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, punctuated by the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional cry of seagulls wheeling overhead.

“What brings you here, then?” Tommy asks, observing your profile. You look tired.

“I told you, watching the sunset.”

“No, I mean what brings you into town? Vacation or family or something?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head slightly as you study his expression. “Why do you care?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a smile, a glint of genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. We can talk about something else if you want.”

“Like what?”

“Like did you know it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

Your bewildered look amuses him.

“It’s true. You’re required, by law, to get your guinea pig a little guinea pig friend. They won’t sell you just one. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. “What kind of women do you pull if this is how you flirt?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“Uh-huh,” you say with a smirk, then turn your head back towards the water. “But what if they want to be alone?”

“Hm?”

“What if you get a guinea pig in Switzerland and you have to buy a second one to keep it company but the first guinea pig actually just wants to be alone on a bench and then some other guinea pig with a mustache shows up and asks weird questions? What then?”

“Well,” Tommy starts, happy that you’re seemingly warming up a bit. “I think the first guinea pig would quickly realize that the other, dashingly handsome guinea pig isn’t that bad and just wants to be friends. And then they’d be friends and run around together and eat hay or whatever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and you know, I think us humans aren’t that different from them. I don’t think we’re meant to be alone either.”

You look at him. “Is that why you came to talk to me? Because you don’t want me to be alone?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I guess not,” you murmur softly, your gaze drifting to the patch of dry skin on the back of your right hand. “And I’m, uh, not here for any special reason. I just…needed a break from home, I suppose.”

“And you have a place to stay, darlin’?” Tommy’s voice carries a gentle concern as he leans slightly closer, trying to see your eyes.

“Yeah, I booked a hotel room a few minutes from here,” you lie smoothly. “With sea-view and everything. Just haven’t checked in yet.”

“Where did you put all your stuff?”

“My stuff?”

“Yeah, your clothes and teddy bears and whatnot.”

You nudge the backpack sitting on the ground next to you with your naked foot. “This is my stuff.”

“Oh.” You must have really wanted to get away if you traveled this lightly, Tommy contemplates silently.

He used to do the same, packing a bag and escaping, seeking solace in the open road. But he learned the hard way that you can’t outrun your problems. They always find a way to catch up with you, no matter how far you go.

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Have you had dinner already?”

“I had a bagel at the airport this morning,” you say nonchalantly.

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” If you had even the slightest bit of energy left inside of you, you’d find his shocked face amusing.

“Okay, that’s just unacceptable. Wait.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens a food delivery app. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want pi–”

“Yes, you do. I’m not gonna have you starving on my watch.”

You raise an eyebrow. “On your watch?”

“Yeah, on my watch. Now, what kind of topping–”

“Pineapple.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pine. Apple.”

“Oh, but I’m the weirdo,” he mutters, shaking his head and giving you the side-eye as he reluctantly adds pineapple as a topping to your pizza. “Anything else? Anchovies? Corn? My tears?”

“Jesus, don’t have a heart attack. Are you Italian or something?”

“No, just not a complete monster.”

You can’t help but chuckle, your smile lighting up your face for the first time in what feels like ages. Tommy’s eyes linger on you a moment too long, captivated by your sudden radiance, before he tears his gaze away as your smile fades once more.

Clearing his throat, he shifts his attention back to his task, fingers tapping away as he types the description of your location for the delivery.

“Should arrive in twenty minutes, the app says.”

You nod and lean back, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you watch the waves again.

“When did you decide to fly out here?”

“Last night.”

“How? Why?”

“Simple. I took out a map, closed my eyes, and this is where my finger landed. And as for the why…well, home just didn’t feel like home anymore, you know?”

“Hm. I know that feeling.”

You turn your head and look into his warm eyes. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. It took me almost a decade after retiring from active duty to feel home again, or like I was safe, or like I belonged. It’s, uh, not easy to get that feeling back once you’ve lost it. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Tommy says with a somber tone. He really is sorry.

You look at him for a moment and give him a tired smile. “It’s okay,” you say with a shrug of your shoulders. “It wasn’t home to begin with. Not really.”

“Whatever your reasons are, you’re brave for leaving.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, I’m brave for running away.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t need to try and make me feel better ‘cause I’m not sad. But I’m also not gonna act like I’m not a coward who accepted far too much shit for far too long ‘cause I’m very much not brave.”

You sigh deeply. “I should’ve gotten the fuck out of that miserable town and relationship years ago. But now it’s too late.”

Tommy furrows his brow and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“Are you married?”

“No, darlin’, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend.”

“So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Nothing serious, no. No attachments for me.”

“Hm. No attachments,” you murmur. “That sounds nice.”

Tommy nods. “It is, most of the time at least. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss being in love.”

“You’ve been in love before?” You tilt your head and look at him with genuine curiosity.

“A few times, yeah.”

“And the women you were with…they loved you?”

“Yeah, they did.” The soft smile lighting up his face tells you he has pleasant memories of his former partners. How nice that must be.

“Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out?”

Tommy’s expression turns introspective, his gaze drifting towards the horizon as if searching for answers in the distant waves.

“I have,” he admits after a pause, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “But I guess that’s just how life goes sometimes. People drift apart, circumstances change, life changes...”

“Do you think it’s possible to hate someone you love?”

Your question catches him off guard, and the look in your eyes concerns him. “Well,” he says calmly, carefully choosing his words, “I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience, but I could imagine that’s how my brother felt about me back when I was spiraling and he had to watch me make bad decision after bad decision. He loved me, I know he always has, but he also hated me for what I was doing.”

“Sounds like a good brother,” you say, mustering a smile.

“He really is. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk to them,” you say, your tone betraying a hint of sadness before you quickly mask it with indifference. “My, uh…best friend was like my sister though.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, you know,” you murmur, the smile on your lips not matching the bitterness in your tone, “that friendship kinda ended after I saw her sitting on my boyfriend’s lap, shoving her tongue down his throat.”

“What the hell? When was that?”

“Hmm, about a month ago. And you wanna know the real kicker? They’ve been fucking for like half a year. My best friend and my boyfriend. Laughing their asses off behind my back. Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. They’re shitty people for doing that to you. You didn’t deserve any–”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that I didn’t deserve it? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I may not know you,” Tommy says gently, “but I know that no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by the people they trust. It’s hard sometimes to see things objectively because we’re our own worst enemies, but I’m telling you, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“What makes you say that?”

You look into his eyes, and the pain he can see in yours breaks his heart.

“Because, I fucking loved it. Everything he did to me, all these years. I loved it. I could’ve left him after he cheated on me for the first time, the second time, the hundredth time, but no. I loved how he came crawling back to me time and time again, promising me the world, telling me he only loved me.”

You pull away, hands resting on his chest as you try to find your words. Simon’s intense gaze has your mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your body trembling as he presses you against the wall with his body. “You–you say you’ll change, you say you’ll never do it again, you say you regret hurting me. And I forgive you. Every time. But nothing ever changes. You do it again and again, not caring how much you hurt me.” He places a hand on the wall next to your head, pushing your shirt up around your waist with the other, his touch on your naked skin sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down at you with a hint of amusement, a devious smirk appearing on his face as he searches your pleading eyes. “I’m serious, Simon,” you insist, unsuccessfully trying to convince yourself of what you’re saying. “I’m done.” Leaning in, he traces your neck with his nose, your heavy breathing and the way your tits press against his chest making his cock twitch in his jeans. “Is that so?” he murmurs against your skin before softly sucking and kissing on your flesh. “Why are you doing this?” you breathe, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you draw him closer. His leg between yours presses against your core, and you can’t help but whimper desperately at the feeling. “I love you,” he whispers, his warm breath gently caressing the curve of your ear, his words piercing your heart like a poisonous dart. “No, you don’t,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sadness, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within you. Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you still yearns for the comfort of his touch, the familiarity of his presence, the illusion of affection he gives you. You need him, need to feel him, need him to love you—even if it kills you. In this moment of vulnerability, you surrender to the torrent of emotions flooding your senses, pressing your lips against his in a desperate attempt to drown out the pain, to silence the screams that plague your mind—eagerly drinking his poison straight from the source. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pull him closer, offering yourself up to him with each rough tug, fervent kiss, and harsh bite to his lips. He matches your energy, gripping the back of your neck with a bruising hold as he hastily opens his jeans to free his cock. “I hate you,” you choke out, the words laced with bitterness and the raw intensity of your need for him as your heart races and your vision blurs. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, baby,” Simon murmurs with a smirk, his words a cruel reminder of the tangled web of emotions that binds you to him, even as you struggle to break free. With a deft movement, he pulls aside your panties, sliding his hard cock through your wet folds as he holds your leg up around his waist. “Oh fuck,” you moan as he pushes inside you in one harsh thrust, your fingernails reflexively digging into his scalp. Overwhelming pleasure mingles with the anguish of your body betraying you, even as your mind screams in protest. Your walls clench around Simon with fierce intensity, his repeated thrusts against your G-spot having you close to orgasm within a minute. “Tell me, baby,” he pants, his eyes gleaming with triumph and satisfaction as he watches in real time how his poison travels through your entire body, your mind, intoxicating your very being with his essence. “Tell me how much you hate me while you come on my cock.”

You tilt your head and give Tommy a tired smile. “Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not pathetic for wanting to be loved. You’re human and our feelings can be…complicated, irrational, dangerous. But you got yourself away from a toxic situation despite your feelings and that takes a lot of strength.”

“Hm.” You draw shapes into the sand with your toes, your heart heavy in your chest.

“Is he…why you left? You had to get away from him?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you say pensively, lost in thought as you fold one leg beneath you on the bench. “Things weren’t that bad after I decided not to care anymore. You know you can just wake up one day and realize it hurts a lot less to just not care about anything? Amazing. So yeah, that’s what I did.” You shrug and rub your left thumb with your right one.

“Of course, he didn’t like that at all, not being able to emotionally drain me anymore. He even told me I was depressed or some shit, acting like he cared, when all he actually missed was me giving him the reactions he wanted,” you scoff, bitterness dripping from your lips. “Coincidentally, that’s when he and my best friend started fucking.”

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, that’s beyond fucked up. Do you, uh, have someone to talk to about all this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean apart from handsome cowboys in too-tight jeans late at night?”

“Did you just call me handsome?”

“Don’t think so,” you give him a playful smile, then turn your head to watch the waves doing their mesmerizing dance. Despite the light-hearted banter, a hint of sadness flickers across your face. “But no, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tommy’s expression softens, his eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and concern as he listens to your words. He reaches out, but catches himself before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Why did you leave?” he asks gently.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

“Laura. My best friend,” you say, shuddering at her name. “I came out of the hospital yesterday, stood at a red light, and then I saw her. Looking right at me from the other side of the street. We hadn’t talked since before I almost died a month ago, ‘cause she never bothered to answer any of my calls or texts…and there she was. Daring to look at me with those fake-ass tears in her eyes like she isn’t a fucking sociopath.”

“What did you do?”

“I just…looked at her, knowing I could never see her again. I walked away, went to mine and Simon’s apartment, grabbed a few things, and went to the airport.”

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

The weight of your experience hangs heavy in the air, casting a somber shadow over the conversation. Tommy nods thoughtfully as he absorbs your words, until he suddenly shakes his head, chastising himself for his own stupidity.

“Okay wait, I’m sorry, but did you just say you almost died? What the hell happened?”

“Oh,” you scoff, a wide smile spreading across your face, its brightness contrasting sharply with the dullness in your eyes, “it’s nothing. One of my fallopian tubes burst ‘cause my dumbass gynecologist failed to diagnose an ectopic pregnancy, so I was hemorrhaging and had to have emergency surgery to get it removed.”

Tommy’s reaction is visceral: his eyes widen in shock, and his mouth falls open slightly, a silent gasp escaping him as the gravity of your words, spoken with horrifying casualness, hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’...”

“But hey, the doctor said I’m completely fine at the check-up yesterday, so I guess that’s what I am.” You shrug and smile at him, but your attempt to lighten the mood falls flat.

“Darlin’, I’m so sor–”

“Don’t, please. It’s okay,” you interrupt softly, shaking your head. “My ex told me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant, and I wouldn’t have been a good mom anyway, so it’s best for the baby that it wasn’t born into the shitshow that is my life.”

“Dar–”

“I swear to God, Tommy, if you say ‘darlin’’ in that stupid, sexy accent of yours one more time,” you cut him off with a playful glare.

He smiles at you, though worry lingers in his eyes and tugs at his heart.

“I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean,” you muse, welcoming the breeze cooling your hot face down. “It’s kind of poetic that my journey ends here.”

“It really is beautiful here, I’m sure you’d love livi–” Tommy starts, but you’re not hearing him.

“You know, I have this recurring dream where I drown, but instead of feeling panicked or scared I just feel peaceful, light. Like the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders. I don’t thrash or struggle, I just…let the water take me under and I can finally breathe.”

Concern flashes in Tommy’s eyes, but he quickly masks it with a calm expression, not wanting to alarm you.

“That sounds intense,” he responds gently, choosing his words carefully. “Dreams can be strange sometimes, but that one sounds like it’s trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s your mind’s way of processing all the heavy things that’ve been weighing on you."

He shifts slightly closer to you, his tone soft and reassuring. “But you know, maybe it’s worth exploring with a therapist or someone who can help you unpack it. Sometimes talking about these things can bring some clarity and relief.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say absentmindedly.

“Darlin’, please look at me,” Tommy’s voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, his gaze penetrating through the fog of your mind. If you had any tears left to cry, the sincerity in his eyes would surely coax them out right about now.

“About what you said earlier…you–you don’t deserve people treating you badly, or any of the bad things that happen to you. You never did, you hear me? You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for, but you weren’t, and that’s not fair, and most certainly not your fault.”

You tilt your head, studying his face intently. Why does he care? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? But hey, he’s trying to be nice, and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. So, you’re trying to be nice back.

“Thanks,” you say softly, mustering a smile. “But enough about me and my dumpster fire of a life.” You shift in your seat, untucking your leg and stretching it out in front of you.

“I’d rather hear about you and how you get your hair to be this healthy. I can never get mine to look that good. Do you think it’s because I just eat garbage, don’t drink enough water and don’t get enough sunlight?”

Tommy chuckles and nods understandingly, recognizing your attempt to shift gears, and decides to play along until you both hear the pizza guy calling for you.

Your insistence to pay for your own pizza and drink falls on deaf ears, so you begrudgingly accept Tommy’s invitation and thank him for ordering food. Surprisingly, you find yourself ravenously hungry after taking the first few bites of your pineapple pizza—that you originally only wanted to mess with Tommy. But even he has to admit it isn’t half bad after you make him eat a slice.

As you’re eating together and the night deepens around you, the street lamps along the boardwalk spending enough light, you ask Tommy about his life.

He shares his journey of enlisting in the army as a teenager, grappling with PTSD upon his return, and navigating through troubled times. He tells you about the unwavering support of his brother and how therapy helped him cope with his demons. You delve deeper, asking him about his wishes for the future, about his hopes and dreams.

You enjoy hearing about his life, about his experiences that are so different from yours. It’s comforting to get lost in someone else’s story for a bit. It’s a refuge, a welcome escape from your own tiring existence.

Pizzas devoured, you sit side by side, enveloped in the soothing melody of the ocean’s whispers. Time seems to lose its grip as you share both laughter and quiet, the minutes and hours slipping away unnoticed like grains of sand carried by the tide.

As tranquility settles between you, the world around you seemingly forgotten, a question gnaws at your insides, its weight palpable in the silence. It’s a question you’re reluctant to voice aloud, knowing it will rupture the delicate bubble you and Tommy have found yourselves in. Yet, it persists, demanding acknowledgment, refusing to be ignored.

You take a deep breath.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“Why won’t you go home?”

Oh. Tommy looks deeply into your eyes, his own filled with turmoil, and finds that he can’t lie to you.

“I can’t,” he admits softly, turning his gaze towards the distant horizon.

You nod slowly, turning your head towards the water as well. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he says simply, his acknowledgment laden with a quiet understanding.

You steal a glance at him, your eyes searching for comfort in the weary lines on his face. With a tentative gesture, you place your hand on the bench between you, a subtle invitation for connection.

Tommy, sensing your unspoken plea, catches the movement from the corner of his eye. His gaze meets yours as you turn your head, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, he understands. Without a word, he responds, reaching out to cover your hand with his own.

His touch is protective, a silent promise that you’re not alone.

“Do you…do you think that makes me a bad person?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you lay bare the depths of your fears.

“No,” he responds softly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “You’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

For the first time since your miscarriage, tears glisten in your eyes, shimmering like fragments of shattered dreams under the moonlight. Tommy’s words offer a glimmer of solace, touching your broken heart.

Silence settles between you two, heavy with shared pain. You sit like that for a while, two strangers finding kinship in the gentle embrace of this summer night.

Gently squeezing your hand, Tommy turns to look at you after a few minutes. “I need you to do something for me,” he says, his voice tinged with urgency. You look into his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence.

“Please stay with me tonight,” he pleads, his fingers tightening around yours, anchoring you to the present moment as if afraid you might slip away into the night.

“We can stay here, we can go for drinks, we can go dancing, we can break into the zoo—whatever you want, sweetheart. We don’t have to talk about anything, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore if tomorrow you decide that’s what you want, but please give me a chance to show you that I ca–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

As the gentle breeze around you whispers secrets of hope and renewal, you find yourself nodding in agreement, a silent promise to give him the chance he so earnestly seeks—to let him show you the light that flickers within the darkness.

Tommy is momentarily stunned as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation. But there’s none to be found—only a quiet resolve that speaks volumes. A wave of relief washes over him, and he can’t hold back the wide grin spreading across his face.

“So, there’s a place a few minutes from here where we could dance, or there’s the bar I went to earlier, or we could–”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’m tired. Could we maybe…could we go home?”

Tommy’s face lights up even more. “Yes, yes, of course, darlin’. My place is right around the corner.”

“Great,” you say with a small smile.

You put your socks and sneakers back on, your movements slow and unsteady after hours of sitting. As you stand up for the first time, your legs wobble beneath you, but Tommy is quick to react, reaching out to steady you with his hands on your waist.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cheeks heating up as you realize your hands are gripping his shoulders for support.

“That’s alright, darlin’. I got you.”

“You’re so cheesy, you know that?” you say with a playful roll of your eyes before removing your hands and taking a step back.

“Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not working,” he teases back with a smirk.

“Whatever. Can we go?” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“After you, my lady,” Tommy says with a gallant flourish, gesturing for you to go first. You shake your head with a theatrical sigh, but play along and start walking.

He falls into step beside you, eager to lift your spirits with an array of random animal facts he’s accumulated over the years, and, much to your amusement, with some particularly funny stories about failed hookups, like the one from tonight.

As you draw closer to his apartment, he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath and comes to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to ask if you need anything.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, tampons, make-up wipes, solution for your contacts, hair conditioner, lotion—I don’t think I have any of that at home, but there’s a convenience sto–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, touched by his consideration. “I got all my essentials in my backpack and really don’t need anything fancy. Thank you, though.”

“Are you–”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you interrupt softly. “Thank you.”

Arriving at Tommy’s apartment, you’re struck by its elegant yet welcoming nature. It’s spacious and tastefully furnished, with a modern aesthetic that speaks to Tommy’s discerning taste. You can’t help but wonder if his job as a contractor affords him such a nice living space or if he’s secretly a trust fund kid—or a very successful drug dealer.

“Must be nice,” you think to yourself.

As Tommy ushers you inside, you’re enveloped in a sense of warmth and comfort as the space feels distinctly homey, with its wooden furnishings and cozy accents that evoke a rustic charm. The polished hardwood floors gleam under soft lamplight, casting a warm glow throughout the living room.

Tommy assures you that you’re welcome to make yourself at home as he heads into the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

Despite its hominess, the apartment remains impeccably clean and organized—a testament, perhaps, to Tommy’s meticulous nature. Every surface is spotless, every item in its proper place, reflecting a discipline that may well stem from his army training.

As you explore further, you do notice small touches that hint at Tommy’s personality—framed photos of him and his friends, a worn but well-loved armchair and couch positioned opposite the TV, horse figurines on the sideboard, and a few potted plants scattered throughout, adding a touch of life to the space.

Your eyes are eventually drawn to the record player nestled in one corner, surrounded by a collection of vinyl records. The sight brings a smile to your face, appreciating the nostalgic feeling it gives you. You’re pretty sure you used to have the same model in your childhood home.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” you hear Tommy’s voice behind you as he hands you the glass of water with a knowing smile. “You like Jazz?”

“Thanks. And yeah, I guess?”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He moves with practiced ease, flipping through his collection of vinyl records until he finds the one he’s looking for. With a gentle touch, he carefully removes the chosen record from its sleeve, handling it delicately as if it were a precious artifact.

You sip on your water and watch in fascination as he places the record onto the turntable, the soft click of the needle finding its groove. As the first notes of a smooth jazz melody fill the air, you can’t help but smile, the music enveloping you in its warm embrace.

Tommy catches your eye and grins, nodding in approval as if to say, “See, I knew you’d like it.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his arm with your elbow.

“Want me to show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so this is the bedroom,” he says, leading you down the hallway and into the room where you’ll be sleeping. The bed sits neatly made, its dark sheets promising a restful night ahead. “I’ll change the sheets for you in a bit, okay? And I’ll be sleeping in the living room on the couch.”

“I, uh,” you murmur, but stop yourself, shaking your head. “No, forget it.”

“What is it? It’s okay, you can tell me.” He searches your eyes as you meet his gaze, waiting patiently for you to answer him.

“Could you maybe…not change the sheets?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Instead, he nods understandingly and immediately assures you, “Sure, I’ll leave the bed as it is then.”

You offer him a grateful smile and as if sensing your need for comfort, he asks, “Do you need a shirt to sleep?” Without waiting for your response, he retrieves one of his shirts and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the shirt from him and holding it close. It’s soft and smells nice.

“And here’s the bathroom,” Tommy continues, leading you through the space. “Feel free to take a shower if you want. Spare towels are here, and there’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet here. Toothpaste is over there. I even got fancy face masks if you wanna try, they’re in here. You think you got everything you need?”

“I think so,” you smile at him before leaving the bathroom to grab your backpack.

As you’re about to head back, Tommy slips in ahead of you. You watch as he discreetly removes all the razor blades, a silent but clear gesture of concern for your well-being. You understand what he’s doing, and although it stirs a pang of humiliation and shame inside you, you don’t say anything and act like you didn’t see it.

After he leaves the bathroom, you take a moment to compose yourself before closing the door, peeing, taking off your clothes, and catching a glimpse of the small surgery scars on your belly. They appear to be healing well, already looking much better than even a week ago.

With a deep breath, you turn on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your body, soothing away some of your tension. As you lather up, enveloped in the steam and the rich scent of Tommy’s body wash, there’s a knock on the door, interrupting your thoughts.

“Darlin’?” Tommy’s voice sounds through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“I’m okay. But you seriously need to start buying body wash for adults, dude. I’m gonna be smelling like a fourteen-year-old boy now, and I don’t know how to feel about it,” you tease.

“Ha ha, you brat. Enjoy your shower.”

You smile to yourself and appreciate how clean Tommy’s shower is as, in your experience, that is not something you can count on with men who live alone.

As you lather shampoo into your hair, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of peace amidst the chaos of recent events. It’s all so surreal.

Once rinsed, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in one of Tommy’s plush towels, the soft fabric hugging your body in a tight embrace. With the steam still lingering in the air, you take your time cleaning your face, brushing your teeth and detangling your wet hair, these simple acts of self-care something you’ve neglected in the weeks prior.

Luckily, your past self decided to pack a fresh pair of panties and a pair of soft yoga pants you can change into now, Tommy’s shirt completing your pajamas for tonight.

Slowly, you step out of the bathroom, the soft light of the living room floor lamp casting a warm glow on the scene before you. Tommy’s sitting on the couch, bathed in the gentle ambiance of the record player’s music.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, he seems lost in thought, fingers rhythmically tapping against the glass, his eyes focused on the spinning vinyl. As you approach, he looks up, a small smile gracing his lips as he welcomes you to join him.

“Okay yeah, I get it,” he quips, his tone playful as he notices how perfectly his shirt accentuates your eye color. “You look better in my shirt than I ever could. There’s really no need to rub it in.”

Chuckling, you settle into the cushion beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence. It feels oddly comforting to be close to him again, his cologne a familiar scent.

But as you sit beside him now, something shifts in the air, a subtle change that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s as if a newfound awareness has settled between you, casting a different light on the space you share. And as you steal glances at Tommy, you start to feel restless, your heart rate quickening.

Oh.

The realization dawns on you slowly, creeping in like the first light of dawn, illuminating the depths of your emotions. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, mesmerized by the way he sits on the couch, his posture relaxed yet undeniably confident.

Your eyes trail over the breadth of his shoulders, down his strong arms, his sculpted torso, and settle on his spread thighs, the subtle flex of muscles visible beneath the fabric of his jeans. Each movement, each shift of his body, only serves to deepen the intensity of your attraction to him.

You’re in trouble.

His handsome face holds a certain allure, drawing you in with its rugged charm—especially with those warm eyes and the beautiful facial hair. As you look at him, really take him in, you can’t deny the flutter of arousal stirring deep within you.

A flutter that’s enough to urge your scrambled brain to make a move.

Tommy catches your prolonged stare, and his brows furrow slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. You gather the courage to ask for a sip of his whiskey, unwittingly biting your lip as you wait for his answer.

“Of course, darlin’,” he agrees, leaning in with a broad smile, bringing the glass closer to you.

As your fingers brush against his on the glass, you feel a surge of electricity pass between you. His pupils dilate ever so slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. You take the glass from him, your fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a slow sip, relishing the smooth warmth of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you lick your lips, the gesture not lost on Tommy as he watches you intently.

The flicker of desire in his eyes tells you that he’s captivated by your silent invitation, but as Tommy accepts the glass back, a faint frown tugs at his brow, his expression suddenly tense.

“Darlin’, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint.

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence as you ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he breathes out, “it’s making me want to do things I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, but what if I told you that I want to do those things, too?”

Tommy swallows hard as you scoot closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours. His pulse quickens, evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, unsure of what to do or say next.

When your hand lands gently above his knee, his body tenses at your touch. His lips part slightly, as if he’s about to speak, but all he manages is a heavy breath.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean in slowly, searching his eyes. You can see the conflict raging within him, desire warring with restraint, and you wait for his response.

With a shaky exhale, his gaze drops down to your lips, his entire being filled with longing and uncertainty. But as your palm wanders up his thigh, drawing closer and closer to his growing erection, his resolve begins to crumble like sand underfoot.

Unable to resist any longer, he leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet fervent kiss. His hand instinctively finds the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your wet hair as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.

Feeling you so close, feeling your soft lips against his, he surrenders to the moment, to the sweet sensation of your embrace, letting himself be consumed by the taste of you.

And yet, in the back of his mind, he’s painfully aware of the circumstances of your meeting.

“I don’t think…this…is a good idea,” Tommy mumbles breathlessly against your lips as you whine needily for more.

“I don’t care,” you breathe, pulling back for a moment to hold onto his shoulders and straddle his lap. His cock twitches in his jeans as you scoot forward, your warm core putting delicious pressure on it. Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and lean in to kiss him again. He cups your face with his hands, kissing you back deeply before nudging your nose with his.

You open your eyes and meet his gaze, his pupils so dilated his brown eyes are almost completely black.

“Let me look at you, baby” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. With a smile, you straighten up and place your hands behind you on his thighs, giving him a great view of your spread thighs and torso.

“Is this okay?” Tommy asks softly as he traces your thighs with his palms, his touch sending tingles of anticipation through your body.

You nod your head yes, and his lips curve into a smile as his eyes roam your body and face with adoration. His hands wander over your hips, under the shirt you’re wearing, along your waist and further up, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing yours as his hands come to rest on your waist.

“I’m sure you say that to every girl willing to sit on your lap,” you tease with a smirk, putting your hands on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm.

“Yeah, but with you I mean it.” His words carry a weight of sincerity as one hand reaches out to tenderly caress your cheek, while the other glides over the soft skin of your back. “C’mere baby.”

As you lean in, his lips capture yours with an almost desperate hunger, his kiss rough and deep, as if he fears you might vanish if he doesn’t hold onto you tightly enough. His hands glide to your lower back, hovering just above your ass, hesitant to go further yet craving to pull you closer, to feel every inch of you pressed against him, to consume you whole.

“You don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break,” you say softly, leading his hands down to your ass. You hum in satisfaction as he grabs it, feeling the strain of his arousal against your aching pussy.

“Tommy,” you whine quietly against his lips, begging him to understand how desperately you need him.

Lost in the moment, you both sink deeper into the kiss, the world around you fading away until there’s only the heat of each other’s bodies and the rhythm of your shared desire. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam your back, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

But as the intensity of your kiss grows, so does the weight of uncertainty. Tommy pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “We don’t have to…”

“I want you, Tommy,” you purr, your eyes glazed.

Your hips rock against him, trying to relieve the tension that has grown between your thighs, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hands move to your waist, helping you grind against him.

“Oh shit,” he pants, reveling in the needy moans leaving your lips. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” he admits with a soft shake of his head, looking at you with wide eyes, still moving you against the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss and suck at his sensitive neck, leaving purple marks behind. You feel his grip tighten, his restraint slipping as he responds to your touch with a low groan.

Lost in the overload of sensations—feeling your warm body, your soft lips and wet tongue, your urgent movements on him, hearing your moans and whispered pleas—Tommy is ready to give you what you both want.

But right as he’s opening his belt with deft fingers, he inadvertently turns his head and catches his reflection in the window. Watching you writhe on top of him, clutching his shirt, his own face twisted in ecstasy, a sharp pang of guilt shoots through him.

This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

You move to kiss his lips again, but as you do so, you catch the concern in his eyes, and your heart sinks. “Hey,” you whisper, your brow furrowed, an anxious smile on your lips.

Your fingers trail gently through his hair, seeking reassurance, but when his movements cease and his touch withdraws, panic floods your senses.

“No, no please don’t stop,” you beg, your desperation evident in every word. You press against him, your hips moving with urgency, aching for the connection you crave so deeply. “I need you.”

Your hands gently cup his cheeks, your pleading eyes flitting between his.

“Please? Tommy?”

Feeling something bump against your leg, you’re called back to the present.

“Oh, hi there, buddy,” you coo, looking down at the toddler who just faceplanted in front of you. You lean down and offer your hand to help him up. “What are you up to, hm? Just running around?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “You wanna sit up here and wait for your mommy?” You lift him up, putting more pressure on your bandaged hand than you should, and set him down beside you. “Great view, huh?”

He babbles something unintelligible, his little arms flailing as his excited laughter fills the air. “You’re so right, buddy,” you agree, following his gaze to the sparkling blue, “the ocean is beautiful.”

“Benji? Oh, there you are,” a lady in a swimsuit calls out, walking towards you with a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she says to you, her tone apologetic. “Benji, how many times have I told you not to run away, hm?”

The toddler giggles in response to his mom’s reproach, his little arms reaching out for her. You can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Think twice before you decide to have kids,” the lady says with a deep sigh, lifting her son onto her hip. “They’re not always as cute as they look.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Say bye to the nice lady,” she prompts, her voice warm and gentle.

Benji turns to you, his eyes bright with innocence, and waves enthusiastically with his chubby little hand.

“Bye Benji,” you coo, returning his wave with a big smile, your heart warmed by his adorable gesture.

You sigh and look at your phone. You have two new messages from Tommy.

Maria says she can’t wait to see you tomorrow. And that she’ll personally drag you here if you decide not to show up.

You’re family and there’s nothing you can do to escape us ;)

You swallow hard and can feel your puffy, irritated eyes starting to water behind your black glasses. What the fuck did you ever do in your insignificant life to deserve this kind of love?

Your phone lights up with another text from Tommy.

just accept it <3

You snort and shake your head. You’re so grateful for his friendship. It has changed a lot over the last couple of years, of course it has, especially after he started dating Maria, and more recently since you started…seeing his brother without telling him.

But the fact that you’re still honoring your yearly tradition to have your late-night talk on this very bench, is a testament to the depth of your bond. It’s a cherished ritual, marking the anniversary of your first meeting. You meet here, under the evening sky, exchanging stories and laughter, and indulging in pizza after sunset.

Two years ago, Tommy told you he met someone before you left his apartment the next morning.

“Sweetheart?” “Yeah?” “I, uh, I got something to tell you.” “Shoot.” “I met someone.” Your fingers halt as you’re tying your shoes, the world around you suddenly still as his words sink in. You stare at the floor, tension building in your heart. “We’ve only been on two dates, but I–” “Really like her,” you finish his sentence as you tie the laces into a knot, straighten up and meet his gaze. “Yes.” That’s it, then. You’ve been replaced. “Does that,” you clear your throat that feels incredibly tight now, your voice shaking, “does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?” Tears well up in your eyes as you feel a rush of panic flood through you. You look down and try to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. “Of course not,” Tommy says, his tone gentle yet firm. “Nothing and no one in the world could ever keep me from spending time with you.” “Okay,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as you hastily wipe away a tear with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry for crying, I–I don’t mean to.” “Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Tommy says softly, closing the distance between you two. His hands find their place on your shoulders, offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Darlin’, look at me.” You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I mean it,” he says with a comforting smile, looking intently into your eyes and cupping your face with his hands. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. I will always be here for you.” You study his face and tell the nagging voice in your mind to shut the fuck up. This is Tommy. He deserves love, he deserves happiness, he deserves someone who can give him everything he wants. And that’s not you. You give him a kiss on the cheek and a sincere smile. “I’m really happy for you, Tommy.”

You did continue spending time together—Tommy kept his word and didn’t abandon you—but as more and more time passed, you would see him less and less as his relationship with Maria deepened.

You expected that to happen, it didn’t hurt any less though.

One year ago, he told you he was going to propose to her, and you spent all night brainstorming ideas on how he could do it. After she’d said yes, they both let you know one day over dinner that they were going to elope, just the two of them, and you were the only person they’d tell beforehand.

A few weeks ago, Tommy beamed with pride as he shared that they were trying for a baby, the twinkle in his eyes warming your heart. Despite the joyous news, you couldn’t resist teasing him for planting that image in your mind.

After you’d shared your stories, and your pineapple and pepperoni pizzas, he very casually asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said, “No.”

“You’re a horrible liar, darlin’.” “I’m not lying. I don’t like anyone except you.” “Stroking my ego’s not gonna get you off the hook, baby.” “Hmm, I’m pretty sure it’s working though.” “The longer you deny it, the more obvious it gets, you know.” “I’m not seeing anybody, Tommy.” “You really wanna play semantics with me?” “Alright, alright. I guess I’m…kinda seeing someone.” “Why just ‘kinda’? Does the guy not realize what a lucky bastard he is?” “It’s not him. It’s, uh…you know me.” “Yeah, and that’s why I know you’ve caught feelings.” “Ew, don’t say that.” “Well, it’s true. It’s written all over your pretty face.” “You suck, you know that?” “Yeah, it’s part of what makes me so charming. Does he know?” “I dunno, probably not.” “Are you gonna tell him?” “Uhh, I don’t think so.” “Why not? All this time I’ve known you and I’ve never seen you in love before. You can’t just…ignore it.” “Tommy…” “Don’t even try it with the puppy eyes, I’m immune to them.” “Liar.” “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t tell him.” “Easy. If I never tell him, it’ll never hurt.” “That’s not how it works.” “You just couldn’t let me live happily in my delusions, hm?” “Sweetheart. I know you’re scared, and you have all the reason to, but…sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, you know?” “I’m not sure I can.” “What does your gut say?” “My gut says he’s too good for me and that he wouldn’t like me if he knew who I really am.” “As someone who does know who you really are, I can assure you that it’s a privilege I wouldn’t miss for the world.” “I just…don’t wanna mess things up, Tommy.” “Look. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost if you try. Everything changes and everything is alright.” “Wow, that was beautiful…you’re really starting to feel that rum and coke, huh?” “You know I’m right, baby.”

It’s funny, really.

You actually entertained the idea that Tommy might be onto something, that perhaps opening up to Joel could bring some semblance of peace, that perhaps you could be happy together. Yet here you are, back where you started, the familiar ache of loss settling in your heart, whispering that everything is far from alright.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors, reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, you take your shoes and socks off. You sink your toes into the soft, grainy sand, relishing its comforting texture.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, allowing the rhythmic sound of the waves to soothe your racing thoughts. With each exhale, you remind yourself that you’re safe, embracing the tranquility of the moment as the colors of the sunset dance across your eyelids.

You feel grounded, peaceful, almost—

“Hi, darlin’.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” you startle with a gasp, snapping back to reality as Joel’s voice unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you saw me,” he says with an apologetic smile on his lips, his big puppy eyes looking puppier than ever.

You sigh exasperatedly and take off your sunglasses. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his words stumbling over each other, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just...I thought I–I mean, I wanted to...”

“Joel,” you interrupt him, too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His brow furrows slightly and his heart plummets as he sees your bleary eyes, a pang of concern settling heavily in his stomach. “I wanted to see you, darlin’,” he confesses softly.

Your gaze sharpens with curiosity and suspicion as you ask, “But how did you know I was gonna be here? And can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Joel hesitates for a moment, then sits down beside you, his movements cautious as if afraid to spook you. With a nervous glance in your direction, he clears his throat, his voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh,” he begins, his words faltering slightly, “I went to your place after work to see if you’d maybe talk to me in person. But you weren’t there. And then I went to your office to see if you were working late, but I saw Kristen and she said it was your day off. You could have been anywhere at that point, so I went to Tommy’s and…told him.”

His eyes flit between yours, anxiously searching for your reaction.

You blink slowly, processing Joel’s words with a sense of resignation rather than shock. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you realize that, at this point, nothing surprises you anymore. With a tired nod, you acknowledge Joel’s actions, feeling too drained to muster any significant reaction.

“How’d he take it?” you ask quietly.

Joel exhales deeply, a wry smile on his lips. “He isn’t too happy with me right now, but I think he’ll get over it.”

“Hm.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice wavering with emotion. “I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, but after last night, I just…I couldn’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to me.”

As Joel speaks, you keep your gaze averted, unable to meet his eyes, your focus fixed on the sand beneath your feet. You hear every word he says, each one echoing in the silence between you, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your reluctance to face him, Joel’s unwavering gaze remains fixed on you, his eyes silently pleading for understanding.

In the midst of the tense silence, a sudden clarity washes over you, and your heart speaks before your mind can catch up. Just as Joel opens his mouth to apologize again and explain further, you interject with your own question, the words tumbling out softly into the stillness.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something missing...like a piece of your heart is somewhere else? And no matter what you do, you’re always gonna be incomplete?”

You meet Joel’s gaze, your eyes searching his, peering into his soul with a vulnerability that lays bare your deepest feelings.

“I don’t feel like that when I’m with you,” you whisper.

Joel’s brows furrow in a mixture of surprise and tenderness as your words sink in. His lips part slightly, his expression softening with understanding as he processes the weight of your confession.

“Would you, um,” you clear your throat, “would you hold my hand and just sit with me for a bit?”

Joel’s eyes beam with adoration as he gently envelops your hand that’s clutching your shirt, delicately prying it away and intertwining his fingers with yours. With a soft, reassuring smile, he places your entwined hands on his thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

As you both gaze out at the vast expanse of the water, the waves lapping against the shore in a mesmerizing dance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket.

You still carry the weight of unresolved issues and uncertainties in your heart, acknowledging that they loom on the horizon, demanding attention. But for now, they can wait.

Your hand in Joel’s feels right, and in this shared moment right here, that’s enough.

Thank you for reading! 🤍

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tsw1234 · 7 months ago

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Let The World Burn - D.G

Word count: 835

Pairings: Vampire!Dick Grayson x BTVS!fem reader

Notes: I don't know how to feel about this, I had like a concept mapped out for this and another part but it all depends on you guys. So please lmk if there's anything I should edit or add, and if I should include the next part

Synopsis: Gotham's in havoc, and the only one you can rely on is your ex-bf?

Warnings: Deception, angst, manipulation

It's been a year since the downfall of Gotham. A year since the apocalypse and a year since the vampires took over.

When the apocalypse first hit, chaos ran amok through the city's streets. Left and right, people were dropping like flies; Despite your pretty recent breakup, the first person you sought to check on was your ex-boyfriend -- Dick Grayson. Frantically you rush for the phone, dialing his number countless amounts of time solely to be met with his voicemail.

"Come on, Grayson answer!" you frustratedly mutter. In the of midst what seemed like the 10th dial, you were interrupted by a gust of wind bursting inside your apartment. You could've sworn you closed your window. Immediately you get a feeling of unease throughout your whole body. Gingerly walking towards your kitchen, you grab a knife from the knife block, arming yourself for whatever unexpected creature decides to pop out. Feeling a shadow behind you, as if instinct, you turn around and attempt to stab the unknown with all your might, only to be stopped mid-swing by a man grabbing your wrist.

"Woah there princess, you could've taken me out." the man said with a hint of mockery. You recognize the man as Dick, fully dressed in his blue and black Nightwing suit.

"Dick!" you exclaim, dropping the knife and running into his arms. He let out a cocky chuckle before wrapping his arms around your waist. If you weren't overdriven by a sense of relief and comfort., you would've noticed how his body was ice cold. Normally it would be the opposite, your hands cold to the touch in contrast to his warm hands. He used to say that that's what made the two of you perfect for each other. "You're okay! I've been calling you over and over!"

"I'm sorry sweetheart my phone died," he said, placing kisses on your temple. Weird, for a vigilante shouldn't his phone always be on? "I'm here now, that's all that matters," he reassures. Once again, there went the feeling of unease. "Baby, as much as I'm enjoying this we need to leave, now.". You nod your head, pushing back any feelings you had. He was right, the apocalypse of the world was still currently ongoing. Dick grabs your wrist, leading you towards the open window's fire escape.

"You ready?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist. You let out a sound of approval, clutching onto him for support. Hearing your compliance, he starts leaping from building to building, leading the two of you to a safe rooftop.

"Stay here, I'll be right back."

"Mhmm," you reply looking down at the city. Tears started to run down your face. Gotham was in shambles. Buildings were on fire, men and women- children screaming, car alarms going off, police sirens wailing.

"Baby, are you okay?" Dick calls out. He approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on top of yours. You turn and bury your face in his chest, hugging him back. "No...this is terrible! The city's in ruins, and everyone I love could be in danger.". This time your body wasn't signaling you a feeling of unease but more of a signal of danger--a warning telling you to get away. You look up at Dick and notice his eyes, his once blue eyes now blood red.

He picked up on your sense of inquietude, looking down at your distraught face. "You-you're one of them." you clamor pushing yourself away from his embrace.

"Princess-"

"No!" you shout. With each step he takes towards you that's another you take away from him. "Baby-"

This time your foot takes a step off of the edge. "Careful!" he exclaims, and in what seems like an instant your rushes over to you and pulls you into him, leading you away from the edge. "Let go of me!" you emphasize, struggling to get away from his grasp on you.

"How could you?" you ask, realizing there's no use in fighting against him and his newly acquired superhuman strength. The only emotions you felt right now were pure pain and betrayal; a dangerous pair they would be if the love you had for Dick wasn't triumphing you to act on them.

You tried to read him, something you could once easily do when you were still together, when he was with you; when he was still human. Dick's mind happened to be in various places. It hurt him to see you so upset- truly it did! Your melancholia and fear visible from your tear filled-eyes. But on the other, he felt no remorse, if anything your fear boosted his hero complex even more. All he wanted was nothing but for you to run into his arms, and call out his name, allowing him to comfort your worries, concerns, and agony. His poor, heartbroken girl. If only you knew how pretty you looked when you cried.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing #batfam #dcu #vampire!dick grayson #dick grayson angst #fanfic #yandere!dick grayson #yandere reader #dick grayson headcannon #nightwing headcanon

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 7 months ago

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One thing that has been bothering me a lot over the past few days is seeing all these RIP YOI, RIP IceAdo, Remember YOI etc. posts. As someone who discovered YOI later, I'm watching this unfold from the sidelines and I'm seriously worrying what this is going to do to the fandom. I understand that you are sad because the movie was cancelled, everyone has the right to be sad about such a thing, and I'm not trying to invalidate your pain. But, and I'm saying this with all kindness and my best intentions, and hell, I'm not even the first one saying this, but please hear me out:

YOI IS NOT DEAD.

It did not die last Friday. And it doesn't die because there won't be a movie. No story in human history has ever died because someone decided it was over. Stories are forever. They live in the hearts of the people. And so has YOI been living in the hearts of its fans since October 6th 2016, and will continue to live there for as long as we want.

Whenever I type "Yuri On Ice" into the search field of any social network, web archive, or search engine, I see hundreds of thousands of hits, most of them fanworks. Please take a moment to think about what that means:

In the 7.5 years since YOI aired, fans have made tons of art, written fanfiction and metas, cosplayed YOI characters, created fan videos, crafted all kinds of fan-made merch, and so much more. You are the ones who brought into being an infinite multiverse centred around an anime that is already larger than life. You have already created so much more YOI than Sayo, Kubo, MAPPA etc. could ever create even if they made one hundred movies. And even if every country in the world turns fascist and bans YOI, it will survive because fans will always find ways to preserve it and the power its message holds. Only stories that nobody no longer talks and cares about fade in oblivion.

You hold all the power to keep YOI alive, but, and this is probably the hardest pill to swallow, that also makes you the only ones who are able to kill YOI - be it by stopping to create or talk about it, or by shouting its death from the rooftops because you fancy yourself dramatic, or by turning the fandom into a hate-infested toxic hellscape, whichever will occur first.

And I honestly don't know which of these I fear most.

If you truly love YOI, please do your share and continue to keep it alive.

#yuri on ice #yoi #ice adolescence #jen's mind vomit #rant

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mc-lukanette · 23 days ago

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Ladybug massaged her temples. She'd really, honestly tried to be sympathetic to Chat Noir, knowing how much love utterly sucked and how rough it could be when one's plans didn't go well.

But in the middle of an akuma battle? Because she didn't come after telling him that she already had plans? Prioritizing his own hurt feelings when people were literally melting after being turned into ice cream?

She couldn't do it, not now. She wasn't going to lose both of their miraculouses because Chat couldn't wait a few minutes to argue with her.

As Chat turned to go fight without a plan, she reached out and snatched his baton off of him. He halted, staggering and nearly falling off the roof in the process, then glared at her.

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a backup plan, because I'm the only one who can stop the akuma and you seem to want to cool off by becoming dessert," she stated. Pointing downwards, she instructed, "Stay safe. If we can't work together, I'll find someone else to help me."

She didn't wait for a reply, making a quick escape before his shouting drew even more attention to them. She ducked into alleys to keep herself hidden from Glaciator, only getting up on rooftops when there was no other way of getting around.

Despite the confidence she'd tried to show Chat, she knew deep down that it would be difficult to find someone who would fit the bill. She needed someone who could not only be convincing, but who she could be convincing with. She'd be a liar if she said she was in any way a good actor, so having to fake a romance with someone she wouldn't be comfortable with would definitely tip off Hawk Moth.

That left out strangers and, ironically, Adrien, with a sarcastic voice in her head commenting that he wouldn't be available even if she could ask him. She reigned in the voice with a shake of her head, feeling it was petty of her when it wasn't like it was his fault.

It wasn't like he planned on not coming, or knew he wouldn't be able to go and had been up to something else. That would've deserved the criticism.

Her thoughts bounced around in her head, running through all of the people she knew. Some were blatantly off-limits, like those who were already dating someone, and she had to keep in mind that they would have to be willing to practically throw themselves in front of an akuma alongside her. That narrowed her options even further, as some she couldn't be sure would put up with the danger.

She summarized everything in her head: someone she could feel comfortable around, who was unattached, who could handle the danger, who could act as needed, and who she wouldn't feel squeamish about being romantic with. Names and faces rushed through her memories like she'd pulled a crank on a slot machine, disappearing as she mentally disqualified them.

Until finally, there was only one left and she'd hit a jackpot of red 7s; or, in this case, black and blue 7s.

Turning on a dime, Ladybug took out her yoyo so its GPS could guide her, changing course now that she had a destination.

—————

It was strange landing on the Liberty without hearing any music. She tried to shake off the feeling, just hoping no one was asleep as she looked around, wandering from the front of the houseboat and into the little greenhouse area to check the seating there.

Still spotting no one, she headed further towards the back to peek into the cabin. Even if she saw Anarka instead, Anarka might've at least known where her temporary partner went, provided she would be willing to share after knowing the reason she was looking.

Because Luka would be perfect as her partner. He was brave enough to make himself bait for Captain Hardrock, acted well enough so that Captain Hardrock truly thought that he'd seen her escape out the window, and she was comfortable around him despite the attraction she had. It was a no brainer, really.

As if her thoughts had personally summoned him, a voice called from below, "Ladybug?"

She backed away from the cabin, peering down the stairway leading into the lounge room. Her face brightened in recognition and she exclaimed, "Just the person I was looking for! Luka—ah, Couffaine!"

She added the last name in a hurry, remembering that she was in hero form and not wanting to come off as too informal.

"I heard something up on the deck and came to look. I never thought it'd be you," he said, hurrying up the stairs to stand in front of her. "Why were you looking for me?"

"There's an akuma," she explained, the earlier cheer in her voice gone to express the severity of the situation. "He's after Marinette, and she told me to come find you if I needed help."

His face remained carefully neutral, but his cheeks were faintly flushed. "Marinette said that?"

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Marinette did tell Ladybug to go find Luka, just... in her head, since they shared the same head.

"Wait. Is she alright?" Luka pressed further, taking a step closer to her.

Ladybug had to suppress a smile, as well as the bubbly feelings in her stomach at knowing he was so worried about her. "She's fine for now. I helped her hide and Glaciator doesn't know where she is. All I need now is you to help keep the akuma from attacking me."

"You need a distraction?" He frowned worriedly. "Did something happen to Chat Noir?"

She made a face, nose scrunched as all of the unpleasant memories came back. There went the mood. "He's not being a team player, let's leave it at that."

Luka didn't ask for further detail, unintentionally proving to her that he was the right choice, and nodded along. "What do I have to do?"

"That..."

She hesitated, knowing that this was the only potential roadblock to all of this. She didn't have a backup plan for her backup plan, so if Luka didn't agree then she'd be stuck. The only way to know was to ask.

Taking a deep breath, she laid it all out to him, "Glaciator's power lets him turn anyone he hits into ice cream, even someone like me. His only rule is that he won't shoot couples, which is where you come in. I need you..." She swallowed, blushing but pushing on. "I need you to be my fake boyfriend and pretend like we're in love while I think through setting up a trap for him."

It sounded like something out of a cliche and she would rather not get into the logistics of how awful it was that she had to do something like that in the first place. She'd already had to kiss Chat Noir during an akuma fight even though she didn't want to and had reluctantly accepted that it was part of the job, albeit a gross one.

At least it would be with Luka this time, though he needed to accept first. He hummed, rubbing his chin in thought as he looked away from her, seeming conflicted.

"You won't be in danger. Hawk Moth won't go after you when it's all over," she tried to assure. "I'll make sure he knows before I purify the akuma that it was just a trick."

He shook his head. "Sorry. It's not that. I'm not dating anyone, but I do have someone I like."

"Oh." She didn't expect that, wondering who it could be whilst ignoring the tight feeling in her chest. "They must be something special."

"She is." He beamed, eyes growing soft at the mere thought of her. It felt oddly familiar somehow. "But I'll do this for Marinette, since she's in danger."

There was still something not quite right in his tone, but she knew he meant it and also that they was a she (even if it had nothing to do with the akuma). She placed a hand to her chest and sighed in relief, glad that this wasn't going to be too difficult. "Thanks. Now, let's—"

"Wait," he interrupted, raising a hand to signal for her to stop. "How much are you comfortable with?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

He squinted in concern. "I heard about the interview on Face-to-Face. A lot of Paris wants you and Chat Noir to be together, so he might not be fooled by us holding hands or hugging each other."

Oh, that... that was sweet? She hadn't given a thought to it beyond his own boundaries, but he cared about hers despite her status as a hero. After her interview with Nadja, it was true that she'd given up on some level that Paris might see her as anything close to a real person.

"I... thank you," she said, though it was a thanks from the heart rather than the professional one prior to it, "but I'll be okay. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

He nodded in agreement. "Me too."

"Good!" She smiled, pulling him to her side and taking out her yoyo. "We can talk about a plan on our way there!"

—————

They'd agreed to wait in an alley that Glaciator would soon come across on his pathway through Paris, since he'd be caught off guard for a few seconds when he spotted them. She would stick with the reality that her and Chat had a fight, but from there she would act like she left to find Luka to "destress," as "Luka always worried about her when she fought akuma whilst upset."

She knew it wasn't real, but it sounded nice in a way. In another universe where she didn't have to keep her identity a secret to those close to her, could things be different? Would she be able to have a boyfriend she could go to who would congratulate her on her victories? Would he fret over her and be upset that it was Chat Noir helping her instead of him? Would he hold her after particularly tough battles, and even after easy ones—

Focus.

"We should practice while we wait," she suggested, putting her air of professionalism back on, "to make sure we'll be convincing. How good is your imagination?"

"What?" The question caught him off guard.

"I want this to be enjoyable for you, and it'd help the act." She waved a hand at herself, instructing, "Just picture her, and do to me what you'd do to her if you were dating."

He gave her a once-over, mulling over the request. He rubbed the area along his shoulder where his guitar strap usually was, then closed his eyes, possibly getting into the right mindset to imagine this mystery person girl in front of him at that moment. She could also swear she heard him humming a familiar tune as he tapped a melody against his thigh.

When he opened his eyes again, the soft half-lidded look had returned. She shuddered, knowing now that the look was directed at "her," and unconsciously held her breath as he took a step towards her.

His fingertips touched her shoulder, slowly trailing down to her forearm and then her hand. He raised it to his face and, rather than the cheesy peck on the back that Chat had always given her, he flipped it around to place a slow, steady kiss against her wrist.

She let out the breath in a single exhale, blushing. Already, the atmosphere felt far different than what she was used to. She knew that Luka didn't mess around when it came to feelings, and these feelings were clearly very genuine.

"She's so creative," he whispered, kissing the back of her curled fingers as well. "My sister's told me so many stories about her. She's extraordinary."

So he was getting into the mood by gushing about his crush. She almost felt like she was intruding, having more information than he thought she did, but she let him keep going, unable to tell him that.

Then, remembering that she should be just as involved as him, she raised her free hand to his face, starting at his temple and slowly working down towards his chin. He didn't have the look of a model, even if he dyed his hair and dressed up, but he was handsome in his own way, so she took her time feeling along his cheekbones.

Luka leaned against her touch, nuzzling into her palm with a sigh. With his head turned, she could free the hand he'd been holding and touch his earlobe, feeling the black earring he was wearing with her thumb.

"We match," she teased lightly.

His smile widened. "She matches me too. She has black earrings."

Black earrings. Despite the mixed feelings that he appeared to already like someone, she couldn't help being curious. Did she know someone that Juleka knew who wore black earrings?

She was startled out of her thoughts at the faint sound of loud, squishy footsteps and a sing-song voice off in the distance. She had rightly predicted Glaciator's path and he was approaching, so he'd be there at any moment.

Luka's eyes flicked out of the alley, then back to Ladybug. Gently taking both of her forearms in his hands, he circled her so his back was facing the nearest wall. He slowly sat himself down, bringing Ladybug with him as he pressed himself against the wall. She caught on quickly, climbing onto his lap and making herself comfortable.

She was rewarded with a kiss against her lower jaw, causing her to gasp. "You...you really like this girl."

"You should know, since you met her again today," he countered, encircling her with his arms to bring her in.

Her mind grew briefly fuzzy when he kissed her cheek, but it cleared as his words registered with her. "W-wait, you mean... m—Marinette?"

He nodded, beaming shamelessly like he hadn't dropped a bomb on her. She was just glad she was sitting in his lap, her legs feeling vaguely like jelly all of a sudden.

So all the things he said, the soft eyes that had felt so familiar, and all of the affection on offer had been for her. She knew she had her own spark of affection for him, but she felt like she was always looking like a fool in front of him, thus making it all one-sided.

Yet, it was mutual, and the unspoken conflict he'd been facing earlier suddenly made sense. He'd been torn when he heard that Marinette had "told" Ladybug to find him because that meant she was okay with him potentially kissing someone else.

She giggled. If only he knew, and if only she had known it could be so simple.

"Luka," she began, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing herself up enough to kiss his forehead, "Did you ever think that Marinette recommended you because she thought it was one-sided too?"

"Ah—mm." Whatever he was going to say stalled as she kissed his temple as well.

She continued without waiting for an answer, "Y-you know what she told me when I told her the situation? That you were the perfect boyfriend material; that you were brave, capable, and sweet when she needed it most."

The alley was dark, but she could make out the way his cheeks pinkened. She wanted to see that through Marinette's eyes one day, not Ladybug's.

"I think you should ask her out," she added.

"I..." He hesitated, his arms around her loosening. "I wouldn't want to pressure her."

She almost laughed, thinking back to how badly she would've wished for someone like him when she was still struggling to make friends, and even now. "Take it from me, I know these things..."

The footsteps were growing louder and she heard the sound of boots against rooftops. Recalling the baton at her lower back, she glanced across the street and up, seeing that Chat Noir was stealthfully keeping up with Glaciator. She had no idea what was going on in his head, whether he was skeptical if she'd make due on her word or was simply waiting for her to come back, but their eyes met.

Pretending not to have noticed him, she took Luka's chin using the hand furthest from where Chat was. Her other cradled Luka's cheek, carefully hiding the sight of his lips from anyone else behind her wrist.

"If it's you asking, and this is what you have planned for her," she began, leaning towards him, "then she'll definitely say 'yes.'"

She sealed the promise with a kiss purposefully to the side of his mouth, though to anyone watching from where she knew they would, it would look like the real deal. Luka's breath caught as his embrace tightened back up, and she knew he was strongly considering the suggestion.

He better, anyway, as she wanted to give him the real deal as Marinette.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukabug #episode: Glaciator #type: salt

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primadomina · 30 days ago

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“TO ME, MY HERALDS,” Galvatron commands, her arms raised in invocation. After a moment of thought she amends, “…And Rodimus.”

There are few ceremonies and rites she enjoys performing, but she has a special place in her twisted little spark for the Riot.

The chalice in front of her steams with darkened life-fuel from her lines, tainted with Unicron’s wretched kiss. It drips still from the bite she inflicted on her inner arm, slowly oozing down her wrist.

“DRINK! Slake your thirst, obliterate your senses! Become chaos, unrestrained and free, and join your Lord— we alight at midnight!”

#shout it from the rooftops // ic #Halloween!!!!

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emmylksblog · 2 days ago

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GAVI BF HEADCANONS!

based on this request

a/n: i think it's accurate to his personality, tried to fit everything i could think of. hope yall like it! 🫶🏻

⚽︎ bf! Gavi is terrible at hiding his emotions. If he’s mad about something, he’ll sulk for exactly five minutes before bursting out with whatever’s on his mind. But if it’s about you, his frustration softens immediately: “I’m not mad at you, okay? I just… I care too much, that’s all.”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi gets super competitive with you, even over silly things. Whether it’s who can fold the laundry faster or who wins at Mario Kart, he’ll take it way too seriously. But if you win, he’ll let out a dramatic groan and accuse you of cheating—before pulling you into a playful hug. “Fine, you’re better. But only this time.”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi loves spontaneous adventures. If you’re lying around on a lazy Sunday, he’ll suddenly grab your hand and say, “Get dressed—we’re going out.” He doesn’t always have a plan, but somehow, his impulsive nature makes every outing feel exciting, whether it’s a drive to nowhere or ice cream at midnight.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi hates being apart from you. If he has to leave for a game, he’ll call or text you nonstop: “What are you doing? Are you eating? Are you thinking about me?” His teammates tease him, but he doesn’t care. “Shut up, this is important,” he’ll say, grinning at his phone.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi is easily flustered by compliments. If you tell him he looks good before a game, he’ll try to act cool, but his cheeks will flush immediately. He’ll mumble a quick “Gracias, guapa,” then pretend to focus on his laces just to hide how much he’s blushing.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi has no chill when it comes to showing affection. If he’s proud of you, he’ll shout it from the rooftops. If he misses you, he’ll tell you ten times in one call. “I don’t care if I’m being annoying—I just love you, okay?”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi’s protective instincts kick in everywhere. If you’re out walking and it starts to rain, he’ll instantly take off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders, muttering something about “not letting you get sick.” He acts like it’s no big deal, but he’ll grumble if you try to give it back.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi is obsessed with your laugh. He’ll do anything to hear it—bad impressions, dumb jokes, or even tickling you mercilessly. When you tell him to stop, he’ll grin mischievously: “Not until you admit my jokes are funny!”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi has a short temper, but you’re his exception. If anyone else frustrates him, he’s quick to snap, but with you, he’ll pause, take a breath, and say, “I don’t want to argue with you. Let’s figure this out, yeah?” He’s not perfect, but he’s trying for you.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi always forgets his own stuff but never yours. He’ll leave his keys or wallet behind constantly, but if you’ve mentioned needing something, he’ll somehow remember and surprise you with it. “You said you ran out of this, right?” he’ll ask casually, secretly proud of himself.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi insists on being your biggest fan. Whether it’s something big like a work presentation or something small like making the perfect coffee, he’ll hype you up as if you just won an award: “That’s my girl! I told you you’re amazing.”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi loves subtle physical touch. He’ll rest his hand on your knee during long car rides, tug gently at your sleeve if he wants your attention, or intertwine his pinky with yours when no one’s looking. It’s his way of saying, “I’m here. Always.”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi is a mess when it comes to surprises. He’ll try to plan something cute, like decorating your room or buying you flowers, but he’s so bad at keeping secrets that he’ll end up blurting it out before the surprise happens: “Okay, don’t be mad, but I have something planned… just act surprised, okay?”

⚽︎ bf! Gavi pretends he doesn’t like cheesy romantic movies. But when you make him watch one, he gets way too into it, yelling at the characters or tearing up at emotional scenes. “I’m not crying—it’s just allergies,” he’ll say, avoiding your teasing smirk.

⚽︎ bf! Gavi talks about the future without realizing it. Whether it’s casually mentioning how your kids would “definitely love football” or joking about what kind of house you’d live in, his words always carry that unspoken promise: “I’m not going anywhere.”

#fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi #hector fort #hector fort x reader #headcanon

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evenmoreofadisaster · 3 months ago

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Picture this: The Foot decides that Usagi keeps getting in the way or he’s too much of a distraction. So the Lieutenant tells One and Two that Usagi has to be killed, and that they have to do it. One is struck with the shock and horror of the knowledge that his friend(or lover maybe at this point I don’t know?) is in danger. He whispers “No…” in such a soft voice that Two looks at him in confusion. Only for One to repeat himself, screaming “NO!!!” When I say screaming, I’m talking wide eyes, angry tears pricking them, fists clenched tightly, and straight up defying the order to kill the one he loves.

Just something angsty I thought of just now. Why? Because I can.

okay this got my brain GOING. I did make some tweaks, but I LOVE where your head's at!

Basically, a what if scenario where Two tells Draxum about Usagi in Bug Busters

The vines must loosen, because Two releases a huff of air and squirms to adjust his position. “I have found evidence that Number One has been coming and going from the Nexus Hotel as he damn well pleases, despite your orders and without your permission. If you release me, I can show you.”

One’s blood turns to ice, but before he can defend himself, Draxum puts them down.

As soon as One’s feet touch the floor and Draxum releases his hold, he lunges for his brother. Draxum’s vines catch him by the shell and arms, pulling him back. One growls and tugs at his restraints. “Two,” he warns.

But Two pulls up the video feed, a time lapse of every one of his escapes to the Nexus. One’s chest tightens. Even though it’s sped up, there are short glimpses of the slider just sitting down and crying. His weakest, most lowest moments are displayed on camera, right in front of him. In front of his brother. In front of his commander. And every time… every time Usagi was there to cheer him up. Two freezes the frame in one particularly suspicious shot of Usagi leading One down a hallway, holding his hand.

Slowly, Draxum’s vines loosen and slide away, but One just stands there, staring at the moment frozen in time.

If he wasn’t in trouble before, he sure as hell is in trouble now.

“You have been deceiving me.”

One stiffens at the sound of disapproval in Draxum’s voice. “Just let me explain—”

“I’ve heard enough of your explanations!” the commander shouts. Instinctively, One flinches and looks at the floor, caught in his own web of lies. He hates the tight feeling in his throat.

“You have made a fool of yourself,” Draxum continues. “By coming here, you’ve hindered this mission. Not only that, but your actions have made me question what else you've been keeping from me. You’ve become distracted. Weak. And I will not tolerate this inane behavior any longer.”

A large shadow engulfs One, making him feel small and boxed in. Oppressed. Suffocated. He doesn’t have to look up to know Draxum is the one who’s looming over him. He just hopes that’s the end of it. The silence that follows seems to last forever. Then the commander gives him his order.

“Kill him.”

One stops breathing.

“This is your final chance to redeem yourself, Number One. I suggest you take it.”

“No,” One’s mouth runs faster than he can think. It’s not the logical choice, but One knew then and there that he can’t— won’t— follow Draxum’s order. Just like he knew that he couldn’t bring 003D and 004D to Draxum.

“One,” Two hisses.

The slider breaks away. “No!” he shouts, fists tight. “I won’t.”

All of a sudden a vine snatches One by the throat and shoots away from the rooftop, holding the slider above the street far below. One gasps as his neck is squeezed. He kicks his legs pathetically and claws at the branch.

“I cannot afford you indulging these insignificant distractions,” Draxum growls. “If you can’t handle these simple tasks, then tell me why shouldn’t I just drop you now?”

“Do it,” One chokes, meeting Draxum’s look of annoyance with defiance. “You’re obviously done with me, so let me go.”

The alchemist narrows his eyes. One’s heart thuds, panic and doubt flooding his mind. He fights it, struggles to hold on to reason.

This is all talk. One knows it is. Draxum isn’t going to just let him fall to his death— fourteen years of the alchemist risking his life and career to protect them makes One sure of it— but that doesn’t mean he won’t find another way to punish One for slowing him down.

After a moment, Draxum pulls him back to the ledge and drops him. One falls unceremoniously onto the rooftop, behind Draxum, hitting the ground with a weak grunt. “That would be a waste,” Draxum scowls. “However, I have another solution to this… complication.”

One looks up as Draxum stands next to Two, with a hand on his shoulder. The softshell glances up hesitantly at their commander.

“Engage deactivation protocol: 001D-Alpha 9.”

WUGGHHH this made me sad. um anyways here's a song rec...

#tw verbal abuse #tw emotional abuse #??#emd au #emd one-shots #emd art #emd au one #onesagi #sort of

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augustinapril · 1 year ago

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Heyyy Spence

So I saw that you wanted some batfam requests (especially platonic ones) so I was wondering if I could ask for a batfam (you pick whatever characters you want to be added) x bat!sibling reader who’s getting a special award but doesn’t tell anyone about it? Not bc they don’t think the family will care, they just think that the rest of them are busy and don’t want to bother them. They somehow find out though and are all there so surprise the reader?

If not- that’s totally fine too!!

Take care <333

Spider || Batfam

Paring: Batfam & gn!reader

Sypnosis: You're Brooklyns resident Spider, or The Insect, as Heaven likes to call you. It's a job you've taken with honor, and you're being thanked for it by the city. What you didn't expect was to see your family in the crowd.

Warnings: kind of a spiderman x dc crossover? r is basically the spiderman of DC, talks of heights, violence and terribly written fight scenes, reader is threatened by a villian, swearing, mentions of food, its poorly written I'm sorry!!

wc: 3.2k || nav || m.list

a/n: shout out to @lu-vin-it for being a character in this fic! he also happens to write so you should definitely go check out their stuff (that's a threat not a request). thank you @lemkay-luminary for proofreading!! <3 reblogs > likes!!

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Gotham City was constantly buzzing with life, along with death. It was a violent city, full of murderers, thieves, robbers, and villians drowning in a thirst for blood. More times than you could count, the city has stolen the life of people you've cared for.

It held too many bad memories for you to stay. You loved the city, and it would always be your home, but you had a new home in Brooklyn, too.

Brooklyn gave you a breath of fresh air, here you could see the sun most days. It was calming, the warmth of it a comfort. You love it here and the people here love you in return.

"Spider!" A little girl from down below shouted, strawberry ice cream smeared across her face as she pointed up at you. "It's Spider!"

Her father gave her a light lecture on how it was rude to point when you attached yourself to the side of a building, offering the little girl a wave. She waved back, squealing in excitement at the fact that the Spider was waving at her.

"Y/n, you know those guys we've been tracking for God knows how long?" Heaven's voice spoke through the comms, startling you.

"I don't, actually, I think they've managed to slip my mind." You retorted sarcastically as you jumped off and swung your way to a nearby rooftop.

"You were bitten by an insect, I can treat you like an insect."

"Spiders aren't insects, they're—"

There was an annoyed huff that cut you off, it made you snicker. "Fuck you. I should make you do all this by yourself, but I don't. Be grateful. Anyways, so I've gotten a location on them, Visage is most definitely there."

"Where?" You asked quickly. Visage has been tormenting the city for a while now.

"Near Plymouth Church. They've been spotted in some run down building near it."

"Thank you." You responded and the comms cut out.

That's when you jumped, arms behind you, the breeze pushed against your suit. It was exhilarating to fly through the air, being so high above everything else.

Helping people in the way you do, swinging through the city and hearing people like that little girl call out to you was worth every risk the job came with. You'd put yourself on the line every time because you're here to protect them.

Which brought you here, on top of some building across from an abandoned grocery store. Your eyes were glued to the doors, as you watched and waited for something to happen.

A man walked out, wearing protective green gear. It was Visage, you knew it was. There was no mistaking him and his rather ugly suit.

"Visage, my man, what's up?" You jumped over to the power line nearby, standing on top of the wooden pole. His head snapped up to you, and the second it did, you webbed him. Jumping up you yanked him up with you. You grabbed ahold of his head and slammed it onto the pole. There was a crack in his helmet, him falling to the ground and letting out a pained groan.

"Fuck," You heard him hiss under his breath, struggling to pull himself off the ground. You didn't give him much of a chance before you leapt down in front of him, landing before swiping him off his feet.

"I'm gonna kill you," He raised his gauntleted hand and he fired at you from his spot on the ground.

It was one of his weird creations, Vistech as he liked to call it. It made you realize that villians are extremely uncreative when it comes to naming things.

"'I'm gonna kill you' blah blah blah, I've heard it all before. Your words mean nothing." You retorted, moving out of the way of whatever it was he shot at you. He had a nasty habit of creating new concoctions and testing them on you.

You were sure you probably seemed cocky, and the way he tensed made it evident he wasn't very appreciative of your attitude. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

After that he charged at you, gear adding power to his steps. Your senses spiked, making you leap out of his way. His gauntlet grabbed hold of your arm, as he throwed you towards a nearby wall.

The impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, falling to the ground with a wheeze. You could hear his heavy boots hit the ground with each step he took towards you. You pushed yourself off the ground, then you lifted your hand and shot webbing at his face. His cries were muffled by the substance, his hand scratched to try and get the webs off.

You fully pushed yourself off of the ground, wincing in pain. Much to your dismay, the second you were on your feet Visage had pulled off the webs. He ran towards you again and you were lucky to move out of the way on time.

You put your hand behind his head and slammed it full force into the wall, knocking him unconscious. You crouched down, inspecting Visage's guantlet, lifting the heavy metal. It was warm to the touch, most likely because of the weird substance in them.

You looked them over, searching for a way to remove them . It was more sophisticated than you originally thought, but you found it eventually.

You knew Visage wasn't the highest of rank in whatever business he worked for, but he was high enough on there for you to get some information on the entire organization.

You tied him up with your webbing, and when you heard police sirens you leapt up to the rooftop of the nearest building, Visage's guantlet in hand.

***

The fight had been all over the news.

Some people praised you for your efforts whilst others said you were nothing but a menace, but the mayor, much to your surprise, was extremely pleased with your work.

She made an announcement on television about wanting to thank you personally for everything you've done for Brooklyn.

Which led you here, stood near the entrance of the building the mayor did most of her work in. She looked elegant, black pencil skirt hugging her legs and waist, a matching jacket on top of a white dress shirt. She was so put together it made you nervous.

You didn't look put together. Not that you really could in your spidersuit but you still felt self-conscious.

Yet she offered you a warm smile, holding her hand out towards you. "Spider! It's nice to meet you in person."

You smiled back, though she couldn't see it from underneath your mask. "It's nice to meet you too, Madame Mayor." Her hand was warm against the fabric of your suit.

"So you and I will just walk out that door," She began, pointing over towards the door. "And I'll greet the crowd, give a speech, and then I'll shake your hand once more. I'll warn you now, there will be a lot of people."

It was strange how you could fight dangerous people and yet the mention of a crowd made your heart rate pick up.

You nodded, and she smiled again. Her heels clicked loudly against the white flooring of the office building, your steps quieter than hers. You made sure to wear your converse here. There had been many times you forgot to slip on your shoes before heading out of your bedroom window, your mind racing to find reported criminals.

The doors opened, sunlight shined through as you exited the brick building. There was an abundance of people in the crowd, the snapping of pictures and shouts of Spider filled the atmosphere. There were news reporters that surrounded the barricades of the stairs, keeping the rambunctious crowd from getting too close.

"Hello people of Brooklyn!" The Mayor waved, sun reflecting off of her white painted nails. The way she handled the crowd made you envious and it took everything in you not to teeter on your feet to calm the nerves.

The crowd gave a series of shouts and greetings in reply, making the mayor laugh. She was good at this, but you suppose she had to be. That's when she introduced you, another wave of excited noise spilled from the ocean of people across from you.

"Hello." You replied as you waved and cringed at how awkward you probably sounded. Another group of greetings sounded around you.

People could be loud when they wanted to be, and that amplified in groups. You eyed them, and noticed the little girl from a few days ago again. She rested on top of her father's shoulders—her face was ice-creamless now—and her abundance of red waves was put into braids with ribbons tied at the end.

She made you smile from under your mask, as the beginning of the mayor's speech slipped past your ears. You moved your gaze from her, your eyes looked over the people and that's when you saw them. Your family in the very back.

Dick looked silly. The entirety of his outfit was just Spider merchandise and you were sure he seemed like an obnoxious fan to the rest of the crowd. Jason stood away from him, probably upset that he had to stand so close to Dick when he looked like that. He blended in more with the crowd, he wore simple attire that any normal person would wear in public. Not that he was normal, he just didn't like to stand out in such a way.

Your father wore a suit. A very pristine suit, as usual, no one except reporters ever wore something so proper to an event like this.

Steph had the biggest smile ever on her face, hair pulled back by a purple headband, dressed simply in a long skirt and a purple cardigan to cover it. Tim stood next to her, adorned in a sweater Bernard had given him and a pair of shorts. The both of them were on the opposite side of the crowd. Cass was not too far away.

She had never enjoyed crowds, or people in general. You wouldn't have noticed her if not for your enhanced senses. She leaned against Bruce's car, the entirety of her black attire blended in with the car's paint. Damian was beside her, arms crossed. The warm weather had him in a simple pair of brown cargo shirts, his green t-shirt blended nicely with them.

Damian probably didn't want to come. Not that he didn't love you or anything, no he often talked about how you were the most tolerable out of the rest of his family, he just never saw the point in coming to something he could very easily watch on TV. You were going to make sure to thank him later.

You returned your attention back to the mayor. As she was nearing the end of her speech she turned to you. "—And I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today. The Spider has done so much for our city this last year, and it seemed rude to not provide our hero a proper thank you."

Her hand reached toward you once again, but before she could grasp your hand an intense feeling of danger hit you. Your head snapped up, turning over and noticing a man—one of Visage's men it seemed from the apparel he wore—directing one of the special guns directly at the mayor. You shielded her quickly, pulling her away just as he pulled the trigger.

The crowd screamed at the sound, erupting in panic. You should've known this would have happened. Nothing is ever so easy.

"Are you okay?" You asked the mayor, and she nodded, mumbling a thank you. You once her over just to make sure before jumping back into the crowd. It was almost as if the man multiplied in your short time of making sure the mayor was okay.

"Can't you guys take days off or something?" You asked, annoyed when you webbed one of the weapons, yanking it out of his hands and sticking it up against the wall of a building. "Seriously, you guys are everywhere. I think you might need to bring this up with your boss."

One of them charged at you, which you swiftly moved out of the way but kept your foot in place, snickering when she tripped on the ground.

You jumped, legs pushing you high enough to land on the top of a street lamp. You'd yanked one of the men up with you, slamming his head into the light before webbing him to it, leaving him dangling when you jumped down.

"Do you ever shut up?" A woman shouted, irritated with you. She lunged at you, but hit the wall—hard enough as to where you could hear a loud groan.

"Only if you say please."

There was only one person left, he radiated irritation. It was easy to piss these people off. If it were a sport you'd have 1st place medals galore.

"And then there were two." You joked, watching as he pulled out a similar weapon to the first guys.

"Shut your fucking mouth!"

You scoffed, preparing yourself to attack him before you answered. "Do you people have no manners?"

It was a swift motion, webbing the weapon so he couldn't fire. He tried to rip off the webs before you got him in the face. His sounds of confusion were muffled, and you took this time to kick the legs out from under him, sticking his hand together

Within minutes, you'd gotten all of them tied up. It was a swift battle—if you could even consider it one—and now you made your way back to the Mayor.

With a quick once over, you knew she was okay. Shaken up, but overall physically okay. You still asked to be sure. "Are you okay?"

She looked at you, offering a smile. "Yes, I'm okay thanks to you. Thank you again, Spider. For everything. I don't know where Brooklyn would be without you."

You couldn’t think of a response. Talking to people was hard, but talking to the Mayor was harder. Especially when she said something like that. “It’s no problem.” You said, though you questioned if it sounded awkward.

After assisting to make sure everyone was okay. You felt a small tug at the stretchy fabric of your suit. Your head drifting in the direction of the source, your heart warmed. It was the little girl from before. “Spider!”

You grinned underneath your mask, crouching down to see eye-to-eye with her, taking notice of the adorable crochet beanie in her head. “Hello. I really like your hat!”

She giggled, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen crossing her features. “It has you on it!”

"It does! Did someone make it for you?"

Her waves bounced around her head when she nodded, grabbing ahold of her father's hand and shaking it around. "My daddy made it for me! Isn't that right, daddy?"

He gave a proud grin, though it wasn't as bright as it would be if he didn't look so exhausted. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. I did make it."

"You should convince him to make me one," You joked, looking up at her father. "It's an awesome hat. I'm honored to have such a hat with me on it."

"She wouldn't stop pestering me until I finished," He replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She asked me everyday if her hat was done. She loves you."

You warmed and looked back at the child. "And her love will always be appreciated."

After a rather hard goodbye, he led her back towards their small car. It took a few hours, but eventually you were able to make your way back home for a quick meal. You had some spare time before you decided you were going to force yourself back out into the city, hoping to finally give yourself a chance to relax.

Though it seemed your plans had been foiled, the smell of Mac & Cheese filled your apartment, and the slight chatter of familiar voices bouncing off of the fake wooden walls.

"Alfred?" Your eyebrows rose when you saw the man that was basically your second father standing in front of your stove, a pot in front of him as he stirred a wooden spoon through the creamy noodles. "You're making Mac & Cheese?"

Alfred never enjoyed making Mac & Cheese like this, far more into homemade foods rather than the cheap store-bought boxes. He enjoyed putting care into his cooking, and boxed Mac & Cheese took that away. In his eyes, at least.

You set your stuff down, listening to Alfreds words even though he didn't look at you. "I would have made something else, but it seems this was all you had in your cupboard, L/n."

"Fair." You shrugged before you heard someone clearing his throat.

"No hello to your father?"

You looked at him and smiled. "Hello Father."

Jason snickered, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You sound like Damian." His feet on your table made you send him a light glare.

"Better him than you, Jay. And get your nasty ass feet off my table." You shoved his feet off of the fake wood, as you ignored the glare he sent you when you walked by, and ruffled Damian's hair. "How's the favorite brother?"

He huffed in annoyance and shoved your hand away, an incoherent grumble being your only response.

"Y/n!" Steph interrupted, a blur of purple passing your vision as he gave you a swift hug, arms wrapping tightly around you. "We missed you!"

"I missed you guys too." You grinned, brushing a few strands of blonde hair that fell out of her headband behind her ear after she pulled away. "Where's Cass and Dick?"

As if on queue, Dick walked through the door, his hand in the air as he answered. "We're here!" He had a flare for the dramatics, his high-school yearbooks and his years of theater could prove it.

Cass' entrance was far more tame, as she carefully walked through as to not drop the big yellow box in her hands,closing the door with her foot. "We brought cake."

"Cake?" You weren't expecting cake, and especially not store bought cake. Alfred would be quivering in his boots if he didn't have to hide his irritation.

"You didn't tell us about the Mayor." Damian interrupted, his arms crossed. Irritation was written all over his face—which seemed to mask his slight pain about the topic—and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt.

"Sorry, Dami." You began, as you gave an apologetic smile. You looked at all of them, trying to explain yourself. "You guys are all so busy, I didn't wanna pull you away from your work."

The explanation seemed silly now that you said it out loud. It was a stupid reason, your family cared about you a lot and it probably seemed like a kick in the face. You continued, words spilling out of your mouth in an anxiety consumed guilt.

"It's not that I thought you guys wouldn't care or anything I just— I don't know, I didn't wanna pull you guys away from something more important."

"No work could ever come above you," Bruce spoke quickly, taking your hand within his. He squeezed it, as if it were to make his words stronger with meaning.

And in a way it did, it reminded you that your family may be busy, but you all would always put each other first.

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sorry this was all over the place!! constructive criticism is always welcome!! please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it!!

#batman x you #batman x y/n #batman x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam imagine #batman imagine #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #stephanie brown x reader #cassandra cain x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam fanfic

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