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word-scribbless · 4 years ago

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Oh Baby Chapter 10

Wooo there’s a lot happening in this bad boy! And a lot of cute dad Gibbs moments! Enjoy! Thanks to the lovely @leroyjethrogibbsgirl for the brainstorming and writing sessions!

Masterlist | oh baby master list

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Since Amelia’s party the Gibbs family had been doing pretty well. They were still doing family counseling sessions, and Y/N and Gibbs had been going together as well. Y/N knew since gibbs wasn’t a talker, if they went together he’d get to hear strategies that they told Y/N to try and wouldn’t feel so alone.

Gibbs had even agreed to start a low dose of medication to help with his panic and episodes. Y/N was beyond proud of her husband and couldn’t believes the process he made. Sniper was also a big help, and the fact that his little girl loved snuggling up to him, which always calmed him down.

Y/N was feeling close to normal again until Gibbs got a call from Vance that had him seething. She set Amelia and Piper up with toys in her room and went in to check on Gibbs.

“Hey baby wh-“

“He’s out”

“What? Who?Y/N asked and then froze. “That maniac that tried to take our daughter is out?”

“Escaped during transport. Agents are coming here to guard the house, but I’m staying and working the case from here. Dinozzo’s got point at NCIS. I’m not leaving you girls.”

She hugged him tight, amazed that he was not running to the navy yard to make sure he can tackle the man himself.

It had been a solid week of fear for the Gibbs family. All three of them stayed hunkered in their home with police details around the perimeter. Y/n made sure to not scare Amelia by making it like a mini vacation but Gibbs could tell it was getting to her. And y/n could tell it was wearing Jethro down. She had even began to suspect that he had stopped taking his medication.

He was on edge, more so than normal, moody and a little snappy. Y/N also noticed that when she went to put her bottle of new meds away that Gibbs’ hadn’t been touched.

Y/N had woke up that morning, expecting her husband to already be up grumbling around like usual.

She was surprised when she walks downstairs to Jethro making breakfast. She smiled and kissed his cheek, scooping Amelia from her seat.

“Hey there my cuties! How are we doing?” She asked as she goes to put coffee on.

“Good just got up” Gibbs said as he kissed both girls.

“I can tell, no coffee yet.” She laughed and Amelia said.

“Poppa love coffee!”

“He sure does!” Y/N agreed.

“Coffee and my girls, all I need” He said with a smile.

As they sat down for their breakfast they suddenly heard a loud bang and yelling at the front door. Suddenly their door was knocked down and the man that had once again put them through hell was facing him.

“Where is my grand daughter!?” He screamed.

Gibbs grabbed his gun quickly from the safe and Pushed Y/N with Amelia in her arms behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gibbs yelled and moved further between his girls and the man.

“I’m here from my grand daughter!” He lunged forward and Y/N thought quickly throwing the freshly brewed coffee at him, giving her time to get Amelia out of the room and lock them both in the bathroom, calling 911.

By the time Y/N was off the phone, she heard a gun shot and huddled Ami closer to her until Jethro knocked on the door “it’s me it’s safe.”

He whispered and Y/N leaned enough to unlock the door while huddling Amelia close. Gibbs pushed in and scooped his girls in his arms.

“He’s gone” he said and kissed her head. “We’re safe.”

“Gone gone?” She asked.

He nodded “pulled a gun on me, officers saw it. It’s already been declared self defense... it’s over.”

She nodded and snuggled into him allowing Amelia to cling to them both as he continued to sooth them both.

“We need to head to NCiS to for debrief and report officially.”

“Bad man gone? We see my Ziva?”

“Yeah baby the bad man is gone and we’ll see your Ziva and uncles probie and Tony.”

“Yayyy daddy keep us safe”

“Always” Gibbs said as he snuggled her close.

The Gibbs family showed up and NCIS a little worse for wear. Y/N was holding onto Amelia pretty tight, she clung back around her neck even tighter and had her little hand around her dad’s finger as they walked.

Gibbs was very agitated and y/N could tell. He separated and went to debrief with the director.

Y/N and Amelia say and Gibb’s desk with Ziva and the rest of the team when Gibbs came out. “I’m done with this, you should have done more they heard Gibbs scream and slam the door, his flip phone bouncing off the floor.

“Gibbs” director Vance shouted as Y/N and Tony stood up to go after Gibbs and Amelia became crying.

“Jethro!” Y/N yelled as she and and Tony caught up to him as he reached the elevator.

“I’m fine!” He grunted.

“You’re not” Tony said

“You’re shaking” y/n pointed out and held his hand. He shook her off and gruffly said “I am fine.”

“Boss you’re not. You need to get yourself together.” Tony said

“For us, for me and your daughter” she said and Gibbs looked up to where Amelia was crying in ziva’s arms.

He sniffed and nodded his head taking Y/N’s hand.

“I scared her”

“We’re all scared, we need you. It’s okay if you’re scared but we need you.”

He nodded again and y/N started to pull him toward the desks

“will you hear us out? Let us help you? Please?” Y/N asked as he scooped Amelia from Ziva.

“Peas let us help poppa! We no want you be angy! Me and momma give you huggies and we all feel better!” She squeaked as she hugged him. “Get help for mealia poppa!” She said nuzzling into him and he could feel the last of his walls breaking down.

“I’m sorry I yelled baby! I’m so sorry.” He sniffled and held onto her and Y/N’s hand.

“It’s Otay poppa! Me and momma and da team help you!”

“That’s right boss we’re here” Ziva said and Tony and McGee nodded.

“Jethro” y/n whispered. “Needing help, needing medication or a counselor isn’t weak.”

“I know” he whispered. “You’re the strongest person I know I just, I shouldn’t need all that to protect you.”

“You don’t need that to protect us but you do need help to manage the anxiety of the situation. We all do. And most of all we need you. So please do whatever it takes to make sure we have that?”

He nodded and hugged his girls to him “anything for you both.”

“We can all go together tonight, I’ll call in an emergency appointment, please?”

Gibbs nodded and looked at his team.

“We’ll wrap this up and we’ll deliver dinner to your house tonight” ducky insists.

“Thank you all” Gibbs whispered as he and his girls got on the elevator.

“Thank you for sticking by me, I’m so sorry I scared you.” Gibbs said as he guided his girls towards the car.

“Poppa no scary” Amelia said “poppa saved us and was angry at scary guy!”

“Yup poppa is our hero!” Y/n said

“Momma was pretty brave today too, I taught you well but where’d that coffee trick come from.” He smiled.

“Needed to protect our baby bear” she chuckled and ticketed Amelia’s side.

Gibbs smiled whispering “I love you momma bear”

“And we’re both very glad we have you as the poppa bear to our momma and baby bear!”

Gibbs smiled and kissed Y/N before driving home.

About 2 weeks after the incident at the Gibbs home and the impromptu intervention, things were looking up for the Gibbs family. Gibbs, Y/N and Amelia had all been attending counseling, together and separately, whatever any of them needed.

Gibbs was getting back into the swing of taking his medication and finally feeling safer and more relaxed about Amelia not being right near him. There were tough days for all involved but they always had each other to lean on.

Lately when Gibbs was working on his boat the girls would sneak away to Amelias room to work on a “secret project” or “the -ecret propject” as Amelia called it. Gibbs played along and smiled after Y/N told him she promised she’d give his first mate back to help on his boat as soon as the project was finished.

Gibbs knew Father’s Day was coming up and couldn’t deny he was pretty excited for their “propject”. So he would take Sniper down the basement with him instead of his girls to keep him company.

While Gibbs and His puppy son were having bonding time with the boat, the girls were hard at work on a few very special gifts and Amelia (and Y/N had been having a very hard time keeping a secret. The night before Father’s Day Y/N wrapped up the gifts in brown butchers paper and had Amelia color all over it. She hid it away and smiled as she thought about his face when he would open it.

The next morning Y/N woke up bright and early somehow succeeding in waking up before her perpetually early husband. He didn’t stay sleeping long, when she moved to get up he rasped “morning baby”

She huffed and turned to kiss him. “Good morning handsome, but it’s Father’s Day so please either go back to sleep or just lay here and pretend we woke you up in like 15 minutes. “Yes ma’am” he smiled as she got and went to leave the room before popping her head back in. “And happy Father’s Day, thanks for doing this whole parenting thing with me.” She added, causing his face to break into a big smile.

She left the room and snuck into Amelias room, kissed her head.

“Hey baby” she said and watched her daughter sleepily open her eyes.

“Hi momma” she whispered and the. Promptly added “poppa?”

Y/N giggled and answered “it’s poppa day so we’re gonna bring him coffee in bed!”

“Yayyy!” She cheered

Y/N and Amelia prepared Gibbs coffee and presents and headed upstairs.

That snuck into his and Y/N’s room and “woke” him up by kissing his cheeks.

“Well hello there my beautiful girls, and boy” he said and kissed them both, patting sniper, who had followed them in, on the head.

“HAPPY POPPA DAY POPPA!” Amelia squealed as Gibbs set his coffee down to scoop her up!

“We has presents!”

“You do?” Gibbs asked with a smile as Y/N set them down for Amelia to give him.

“We worked really hard on these ones huh meals? We started a few months ago.” Y/N said as Gibbs began to open the larger package leaving out that they had actually started this project when they were in protective custody, to help them not miss him so much.

As he tore the paper he saw 2 scrap books and couldn’t help but smile as he flipped through the first one that said family.

There were over a dozen decorated pages with pictures of his family. Every group he’d ever called his family in fact. Old pictures of when he was a boy, pictures with Mike franks and dwayne pride from his early days of NCIS, pictures with Shannon and Kelly, pictures of his current NCIS team with hand written notes from each of his 3 agents and plenty of pictures of him, Amelia, and Y/N. On the back page was a picture Amelia had drawn (with Y/N’s help) of all the people in her family. Gibbs teared up when he saw it included a scribbled frame in stick figure Amelia’s hand labeled “Shannon and my sister Kelly”.

“Poppa you like it?” Amelia peeped as she climbed up to wipe his tears.

“I love it baby! Thank you so much. He said as he smiled at Y/N.

“Momma you said da other one would make poppa cry!” She giggled as she went to sit in her mom’s lap so her dad could look at the second book.

“All happy tears though” y/n clarified as she kissed her head.

Gibbs picked up the second book and quickly understood why Y/N would say he’d cry. One the front cover were bright stickered letters that said “Gibbs’ girls” and smaller silver font that said “a picture book of proof that you’re the best dad ever”

The tears came as he opened the first page and saw 2 pictures, one of Amelia and himself sanding his boat, and one of Kelly and him sanding a boat. With decorations and Y/N’s hand writing that said “2 girls lucky enough to be their dad’s ‘first mate’.

Gibbs looked up and pulled both his girls into a hug. “I love it” he whispered.

“We used pictures we knew you were okay with sharing with us and they are all copied. Originals are safe in their boxes.” Y/N explained.

“What could be better than a picture book of all of my girls huh?” He smiled as he turned to her page that proudly showcased photos of all 4 of his girls.

“We were hoping you’d tell us the stories of some of them” y/N said and Gibbs nodded as he began telling a story about riding horses with Kelly.

“Poppa one more!” Amelia peeped after his story.

“Another gift?” He asked an took the small box from her.

“Yup, this one we didn’t hand make, but it’s still special” y/N explained.

Gibbs opened the box to see a silver with a small silver tag holding a link of chain together, the tags had the initials K and A etched in it, and on the back that laid against his arm it said “#1 dad to Kelly and Amelia Gibbs”

He couldn’t even talk he was so loved by the gift.

“Thank you” he said as he tucked both of them under his arm.”

“We wanted you to know how lucky all your girls were and are to have you J” Y/N said with a kiss to his cheek as Amelia added “best poppa Eva”

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve any of you.” He said as Y/N clasped the bracelet on. “But I am so lucky.”

The Gibbs’ spent that day enjoying and celebrating being a family, as well as visited and calls from each of the team to their ‘work dad’ and Y/N put it. Gibbs couldn’t have asked for a better ‘poppa day.”

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@mac99martin @kittenlittle24 @viper-official @ilovemark1951 @theofficialzivadavid @averyhotchner @andreasworlsboring101 @diesinspanishbcimhispanic

#ncis image #ncis #ncis fandom #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader

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soundsgoodfeelslikeshit · 4 years ago

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Fights and Waves

Summary: JJ and Y/N have been fighting constantly and JJ finally decides to end it. Will John B be able to bring Y/N back to the group? Will JJ and Y/N be able to fix the relationship with each other and get back together?

A/N: If enough people like this I can do a part two. This was in my drafts for a pretty long time and I finally decided to finish it. Lmk if you want a part two.

“JJ, stop. Not tonight, I can’t do this tonight.” You mumbled as you rubbed your hands together. You had gotten off a tough shift and the last thing you wanted to be doing was going head to head with JJ in another argument.

“Why not? We can’t keep pushing shit under the rug!” JJ said raising his eyebrows at you.

“Babe, I’m tired, you look tired, and I’m sure the Pogues would rather not hear another fight.”

“Well maybe if you would tell me what was going on with you, I haven’t heard from you in three days! You just show up here like nothing happened. I get it you have your episodes, but I was worried. Where were you?” JJ pushed.

“I was working, my phone has been off for the past few days. I needed some quality me time. It was nothing personal and you know that.” You mumbled, rubbing your sore, aching back.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing personal whatever! I’m your boyfriend. If you can’t let me know what’s happening maybe we shouldn’t be together, hmm, what do you think about that?!” JJ screamed.

“I think you’re being dramatic, it isn’t that serious Bub.” You said taking a step to him.

“No, you don’t need to come closer. We’re done.” He said stepping out of the Chateau, while slamming the door.

You sighed, and ran your fingers through your hair. This had been a recurring thing, every fight JJ would leave. This time it was different, he ended things. You watched with tears in your tired eyes as he sped away on his bike.

You decided to just call it a night and went to head towards your car.

“Y/N, hey where you going?” John B yelled.

“I’m going to head home, just not feeling too well today.”

“Where’d JJ go?” Kie asked.

“None of my concern anymore, I guess.” You mumbled wiping another tear.

“Hey, wait what?” Pope questioned as you shut your door.

“I’ll see you guys when I see you, but JJ will always need you guys more just like you’ll always need him more.” You smiled sadly and drove off.

................................................................................................................................

It had been weeks of the pogues trying to meet up with you and trying to call or text, but all of their attempts were left unanswered.

You’d started working more at a new shop that opened up and they of course never shopped there since they’d prefer to get their surf gear from a local shop and not a corporate one. You quit the wreck and apologized to Kie’s parents. You changed your number so you didn’t have to feel guilty about the numerous messages you were ignoring, but your hopes for the guilt to go away were unanswered it was still very much there.

“Hey, Y/N. There’s some people here to see you.” Your mom said as she opened your door slightly.

“I’m not feeling too well, can you have them come by another day?” You questioned as you rubbed your eyes.

“I’ll let them know.” She said smiling sadly.

You stared at the picture of you and the Pogues and threw it on the ground. No need for it to be on your bedside table anymore.

Your bedroom door opening startled you and looked up with wide eyes at John B.

“Hey it’s just me.” He said softly.

“I’m not feeling well.” You mumbled looking away.

“Y/N you’re like my sister. I know you. You’re not sick, you’re sad.” He said as he sat next to your frame.

“JB I can’t, JJ needs you.” You said with a break in your voice.

“I think you need me more.”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

“I-I can’t. I’m so sorry.” You sobbed.

“Shh, let us in. You can’t block us out forever.”

“I love J, I just can’t end up like my mom and my dad. They constantly fought, dad turned abusive, left and felt a better family. I can’t do that with him! JB I can’t!” You said through hysterics.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he said pulling you on his lap and rubbing up and down your back.

“You and J won’t end up like them I promise. Things just got complicated. There were a lot of stressors for everyone and JJ took it out on the wrong person.” He said, rocking slightly.

You stifled a sob and leaned further into him.

“Are you hungry? Sarah said she’s drop some food off with your mom. I told her I was gonna spend the night.”

“I’m okay.” You mumbled quietly.

“I’m gonna get you some food I know you haven’t been eating like you should.”

You sighed and let your mind race as you listened to your best friend’s breathing.

................................................................................................

“I’m just gonna sit this here. Thank you John B. She really needed this.” Your mom said smiling at the boy.

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. She’d do the same for me so I have to do the same for her. She’s the little sister I never had.” He smiled back.

Your mom smiled and placed the food down and left the room.

“Okay Y/N/N, come on time to eat,” he mumbled into your hair quietly.

You sighed and leaned away from his chest.

“Got you some chicken parm. I know it’s your favorite.”

You gave a soft smile and grabbed the takeout box he was offering.

“Get a movie and put it on please. We’re going to eat and talk and then go to sleep. Okay?” He asked.

You sighed and nodded as he left the room.

He walked back in with TV trays and set them up and then moved the food onto them.

You put Hercules in and smiled as you sat back down.

“Alright so why did you decide to leave? No contact, no response, nothing.”

“I-“ you started and set your fork down. “I couldn’t let JJ have the option to not be with you guys. I know when he starts spiraling he needs someone. He needs them in those first few days or weeks. When I spiral I don’t even realize I am, so I just handle it when I notice. I could help myself but JJ needed your guys’ support.”

“You need our support too. When you’ve spiraled in the past I’ve always been here. You can’t place JJ’s happiness above your own. You can’t fix JJ while you are falling apart.” John B said biting into his burger.

“You were there after I handled it for a while I got through the bad. Just needed the last few pieces put back together. JJ deserves you guys. I can’t keep him from you. I can’t make him choose to see me with you guys or just not come around. If it came down to me or JJ needing to leave the group it would have to be me.” You said sadly.

“You can’t do that. Listen if it was you or JJ it would be both of you. We would split our time. But that’s not the case. JJ came back that night devastated you were gone. Screaming and crying. He tried to break everything he could, he knew he messed up. He wants to fix it.” John B sighed.

“I can’t promise I’ll take him back immediately, it’s not the same anymore. There’s things we both could fix and that’s not gonna happen with the relationship we have. I can’t be the reason why, if JJ and I were to get married and have kids, that my kids have emotional trauma from seeing a parent be verbally abusive to the other. JJ and I are borderline abusive now.” You said fighting back tears.

“Y/N/N. You won’t end up like your dad. Okay?”

“John B I’m not saying I would I just don’t want that to be the course that could happen. Taking a break will be good for us. I’m not saying I won’t try, because believe me I will. JJ is it for me and I know that.” You said pushing your plate away.

“You wanna go surfing with them tomorrow and have a marsh day?”

You nodded and gave him your new number to put in a group chat with them.

“You aren’t gonna eat anymore?”

You shook your head.

“Haven’t been too hungry lately.” You sighed and gave your attention to Hercules.

................................................................................................

“Wake up, sleepy.” John B said shaking you.

“Leave me alone JB. It’s too early.”

“We’re going surfing for sunrise.”

You sighed getting up and seeing it was 4:50am.

You pulled your closet open and pulled out a bathing suit and a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“Did you bring stuff?” You questioned.

He nodded his head.

“You can change in here, I’ll be in the bathroom gotta make myself look semi-approachable.” You said as you shut your bathroom door.

You stripped off your old clothes and quickly shaved and showered. Washed your face, brushed your teeth, did your hair, and finally pulled your swimsuit on. You sighed at your reflection noticing the spots that were thinner. You just decided to throw your tank top on and find different shorts to wear.

“Hey you ready?” John B questioned.

“Yeah one sec. Need to find my swim shorts.” You said digging through your closet.

You found them and slipped them on and followed John B out of your room.

Scribbling a note to your mom you left and took your car to the Chateu to grab the Twinkie and JB’s board.

“You ready to see him?” He questioned.

“Absolutely not, but it is what it is.” You said with a small laugh.

He nodded as you began your drive to the beach.

You arrived after what felt like years but was really only a few minutes. You could see Kiara and Pope but no signs of JJ.

You prepared yourself and grabbed your wetsuit and board and followed JB.

“Heyy.” You said awkwardly scratching your arm.

Kiara pulled you into a hug and Pope quickly followed.

“Don’t do that again.” She scolded.

You sighed and nodded.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. But we can surf and have our day first.” Pope smiled.

You nodded as they rushed out to the water with their boards. You slowly put your wetsuit on and allowed John B to zip it.

“Don’t freak but JJ just got here.”

You nodded and turned to the boy.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, you had a lot on your plate and I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Guess we just know the right buttons to press.” He said sadly.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve give you an explanation and not just expected you to understand. I do think it’s best we stay apart for a while. Fix ourselves and then maybe try again if it’s feeling like the right time and everything feels right.” You said.

“I agree.”

You smiled and led the way to surf with your friends.

#jj obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks imagines #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank #kie x Pope #outer banks john b #john b obx #john b routledge #john b outer banks #obx pope #pope heyward #jj maybank obx #JJ maybank #JJ maybank imagines

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toujoursmiraculous · 4 years ago

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Thoughts and Reaction to ROCKETEAR!

It's a long post, but when are these ever really short? xD Seeing Carapace first made me so excited. I've been sad we haven't had much of him in the show. And then I saw that it seemed like Ladynoir was doing pretty good as they only had Carapace helping them this time. More S2 & S3 like. So I was like cool, cool, this is great. But what the heck scientist WHY ARE YOU BRINGING TYRANNOSAURUS REX'S BACK! Obviously she's going to be something big later on, she's too nicely animated not to be back. Not to mention Bob Roth's plans. Anyone else both intrigued but also scared at what that could do later? Big upcoming plot point, I think.

I screamed awwww because this is everything. I've wanted a LB/Carapace and Marinette/Nino friendship bond in this show since season 1. This scene made me incredibly happy! I'm a huge Nino fan, for those that don't know, so you can imagine how much I love this episode. Even though sad Nino.

"Alya, everyone has to believe that you will never use the Miraculous again!" End of episode: So anyway... So what I'm seeing here is, Alya's not fond of the idea of being just a spy, not being in on the action. Even though it's Ladybug's plan. Chat Noir isn't fond of what's going on right now either, where he thinks what's going on is all Ladybug's plans. Alya makes the decision to not do what Ladybug wants and tells Nino she's still Rena Rouge. So what's Chat Noir going to do to go against her? Because that's coming up on the horizon. Despite everything being easier for Marinette since everything's not just on her shoulders now, she's still been unable to play video games with her dad, and we know how much she loves doing that. :c That's really sad she doesn't even have time for her family anymore. DJWifi over here being all adorable. "You don't love me anymore!" Me: *Chat Blanc flashbacks* Alya suggests her new content could be Chat Noir edits and Marinette's like YES DO THOSE. Then those edits helped push Nino into thinking she was into Chat. Big oops. Not gonna lie, the rewind freaked me out for a moment. Last time I saw that was Chat Blanc so I thought something big was up. But nope, it's just like that scene in Puppeteer 2. Ugh poor Nino! He knows something's bothering Alya, but she won't say what it is and her behavior's too off from how she normally is. Poor guy. x.x Grumpy Nino that Carapace doesn't get attention and then they wrote his girlfriend with Chat Noir. I remember when Alya was grumpy for a bit about Rena Rouge not getting a party to celebrate her. Movie Ladybug telling Movie Chat Noir that he's better with Movie Rena Rouge. Is this a reference to the episode in Avatar, The Ember Island Players? Getting strong vibes when Play Aang and Play Katara were like, we're just friends nothing more and it's great! Play Katara was extremely into Play Zuko. I can see why Ladybug dismissed the movie (or was it the previous one since it's been awhile? Maybe?) because Rena Rouge and Chat Noir???? The writers (of the movie) just wanted to be different because everyone can see Ladynoir, unless they're blind. Alya and Nino are Andre's favorite couple. YES THANK YOU. I mean they're not my favorite because Love Square. BUT they're my second favorite next to them. Those kids are super adorable but definitely that kid playing Chat wasn't doing Nino any favors. First picture Alya shows. Chat with a heart tail. Yeah that's not doing her any favors lol. Nino: UGH CHAT NOIR'S COMING IN BETWEEN ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND. I KNOW, I'LL CALL MY BEST FRIEND TO VENT TO ABOUT IT. Best Friend Chat Noir: Best Friend Chat Noir: Welp maybe I should see what's up. Maybe I went a little to hard on the cat charm and she's fallen in love with me. Me: Oh oof here we go. Also can I ask, if anyone knows, who animated this episode? The fluidity is great and it looks really pretty. But it doesn't quite look like SAMG's work either. Whoever did it, I love it. S2 Chat Noir: You're not replacing me with a turtle, are you? :c S4 Nino: Who would want a reckless turtle as a partner? BOYS STOP. But yeah this whole scene had me laughing so hard XD Very dramatic and I love it. Nino's hilarious even when he's worried and sad! I would've absolutely loved to have heard this in English with the old English voice of Nino, but the new one worries me on whether or not he'll do a good job sounding like Nino and less high-pitched and whiny. :/ New York Nino was great but S4 Nino....x.x THE TRANSITION BETWEEN HIS INNER MONOLOGUE AND SPEAKING REGULARLY AGAIN 😂😂😂😂 Brilliant! It doesn't really feel like Miraculous Ladybug this episode, and I love it. Not that I don't love the show as usual but wow this is great. Okay, I want to point out that Chat Noir

probably was more worried about it than he would've been otherwise because of what happened with Marinette in Weredad. It probably made him more cautious about this sort of thing.

LOL Chat's sulking because Alya's laughing at the idea of being interested in him. 😂😂 I know that's a blow to one's ego and all, and he's dealt with this kind of thing a lot so I do feel bad for him, but that is his best friend's girlfriend and he definitely doesn't want her to like him. Alya: With him it's not just ❤️it's *makes massive hand gesture indicating she loves him deeply* SO SO SO CUTE OKAY ALL THIS DJWIFI 😭 Alya: And I don't even know your secret identity! I would never fall in love with someone I don't know. Chat Noir, literally fell in love with Ladybug, whose identity he doesn't know. Well Alya, I wonder if you saying that matters for later somehow.... o.O Nino running away crying is honestly one of the things that hurts me most in the entire show. Ugh. Adrien over here being all, I'm having a good day. I'm happy and smiling and it's great. And then it wasn't. Adrien, if Nino let him and didn't interrupt, would've told him about how Alya really doesn't love Chat Noir, and that would've seriously led up to his identity being exposed since Nino was watching and filmed them. o.o Did you notice how he was going to tell him about it? S4, the basement is where it's at. Adrien: Uhh, when did you arrange all this? Nino: *pounds fist on desk* I ASK THE QUESTIONS! 😂 So like. Why is Nino interrogating Adrien when he's after Chat Noir? He doesn't know they're the same person. XD He's looking at him like Adrien has info he's keeping or something omg.

Also again this animation is so nice. Adrien, feeling uncomfortable and so turns the music off. Nino, wanting his dramatic music on while he interrogates Adrien, turns it back on. Adrien, feeling even more irritated and uncomfortable, wants the music OFF and turns it off. Nino, turns the music back on. This may be a reference to something, I don't know, but lolol it's so funny. This episode is both super hilarious and super angsty! Honestly they've done such a good job in my opinion. Nino: I'm talking about something that I shouldn't tell you! ...but I'm going to tell you anyway! Alya's Rena Rouge and I'm Carapace! Okay but the way Adrien went from shock to utter anger, knocked his chair back and grabbed Nino's shoulders like "Tell me the truth. You two know about each other?" Aw man, my poor sunshine boy. A lot of the stuff bothering Adrien is all circumstantial, none of it is to purposefully keep him in the dark. And yet from his perspective, that's how it looks. "I thought secret identities must be protected at all times! If that was the truth, you would never tell me this!" Alright so three things. If he's referring to him saying that Nino and Alya know about each other, that was situational and important info for him to know now that this is out. It wasn't important to know before this. The time it happened was dire and was really no time to get around it. If he's talking about Nino telling him the secrets, well yeah that's not supposed to happen and Nino broke that trust. But also, I get the feeling pretty strongly at this point Adrien's going to be breaking some rules too and one of which is he's going to tell Nino who he is. Adrien's being too emotional in this scene to not be involved in it all, I'm wondering if that's going to be questioned later by Nino. He's acting like he knows too much to be a random viewer of the heroes like the rest of Paris. Also Adrien's best friend just totally dissed Chat Noir and went off about how he throws himself at Ladybug whenever he sees her with roses and love confessions. 😂😂😂 This is just too funny! "But he's always rejected because Ladybug finds him annoying! And she's completely right!" Omg Nino, that's not the reason anymore, shush! "And then Rena Rouge appears and he goes *tickles under Adrien's chin* hey pretty lady! You look elegant and you have great perfume." OMG does Chat Noir actually say and do stuff like that to Rena Rouge or is he just exaggerating here XD "If I could I would shut his mouth forever!" Yeah Nino, say what you really think about your best friend in the entire world. Yikes poor Adrien though. I never imagined he'd hear all these bad things about himself from his best friend directly like that. :/ That's a major misunderstanding of him. Which kind of pushes me more towards the "he's going to tell Nino" theory. Sad Adrien transformation DDDX Alya: *explained everything about why Chat Noir went over to her house in the middle of the night* Marinette *facepalm* Ugh that Chat Noir... Well at least there will be no misunderstandings there! xD "Chat Noir, you stole Alya from me! I will steal your life from you." Good lord man calm down. You can't just kill a man! Fanon: Chat Noir gets attacked by a guy over Marinette. Canon: Chat Noir gets attacked by a guy over Alya. Time to go back to the basement! lol Nino's music's still playing xD And the video is left with it paused on Chat Noir hugging Alya. Marinette looked a bit sad, but it was probably more about the situation being a mess rather than being sad he'd hug her. Meanwhile, Chat Noir's fighting Nino and would rather get beaten up by him than fight. x.x "I can't believe that I doubted you." "I can't believe I chose to do anything but be with you!" She wiped away akumatized Nino's tear just like how Ladybug wiped away akumatized Chat Noir's. ALL THE PARALLELS 😭😭😭 But that hug is so sweet!! Nino broke off the akumatization just like Alya did :o Dang, I wonder if that means something later too. "Love and secrets do not go well together, Ladybug. And I'm sure you have a lot of

them!" Secrets = from Chat Noir. Love = for Chat Noir. Yeah even Shadow Moth knows at this point. xP Thanks for that foreshadowing. Nino's charm is my favorite charm so far! It's my favorite shade of blue. Chat Noir: Everybody has doubts sometimes...even me." Ladybug: Is everything okay, Chat Noir? Chat: Oh yes...pound it!

So um. The placemet of Adrien's poster in between Chat Noir, Ladybug, and just with this entire situation feels very strange. Very intentional. But no clue exactly what that could mean..... Nino and Alya are happy over there watching those two, like they're waiting for them to figure things out or something. But really, Adrien should've talked to Ladybug when he could still do so calmly and be reasonable. I doubt that's going to be the case later on. And honestly Ladybug doesn't even know what's going on. Every episode we've seen really either has them working together or she's unable to be Ladybug when he's unable to be Chat Noir most of the time. I've said it before but these two really need to communicate. Nino and Alya are like a less adorably romantic version of what they'd be. "But they're a couple and they know their secret identities, so why does that rule exist for us but they can know?" Very simple. Because they were temporary holders and the Miraculous they had, Hawk Moth hasn't made it his life's mission to obtain, unlike them, who are permanent holders and Hawk Moth's been after them fiercely to make a Wish that could destroy everything. But. The fact he's asking this, and Marinette's Chat Blanc nightmare, really points in the direction that he's going to eventually find out that while she's thought about telling him all along, Chat Blanc's kept her from doing so.

Okay, so while it looks like he's staring up at the moon, if you notice, it really is just one of the pink bubbles.

Now, they could be making it seem like it's the moon though to give it a double meaning. But poor Kitty, he's feeling so awful right now over in that dark corner Dx Nino felt bad for only two episodes? and it got resolved, so hopefully this all won't last too much longer for him! Marinette had a few shaky episodes so hopefully he'll have a few before it gets resolved. But somehow I think that may be wishful thinking. This episode was so amazing, honestly. Wonderful writing, made me laugh a lot, aw a lot, and hurt a lot. It focused on the core 4 characters which I've wanted more of for a long time. The animation was beautiful. And it just felt so different in such a good way. Chat Noir's having a hard time right now, and I know there's a lot of anger and hate about it going around. But please, think of this as him hitting a rough spot in the road to a much better and brighter future. He's going to end up okay, he'll understand it all someday. And that day's honestly not that far for him if you think about it.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #chat blanc #rocketear spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #toujoursmiraculous thoughts and reaction #ladybug #chat noir #carapace #rena rouge #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir

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anothertimdrakestan · 5 years ago

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Batfam Reactions To Watching Avatar The Last Airbender

req: “Hi I was wondering if you could write the boys reactions to watching Avatar: The last airbender for the first time?” (anon)

YES! THIS IS TOO CUTE!

- long story short, Dami got hurt during patrol and to make sure he didn’t sneak out the entire family had to settle in for a movie night

- you made the epic recommendation to watch ATLA and yall basically binge watched it for a week while Dami healed, here are each of the boys reactions

Damian

- this mfer grumbled that it was stupid and gave Katara shit for being a bad waterbender at the beginning, especially the first episode

- he was hardcore crushing on her at the end specifically her fire nation outfit and that she learned how to blood bend, he’s a simp for powerful women what can i say

- during the first season he was pretty stoic and annoyed, blame it on the painkillers

- second season he was gettin’ into it, flinching with the epic fight scenes, calling himself the batfamily Toph, he let a rogue tear slip during leaves from the vine and no one noticed but you and Dick

- he got extra cuddles that night

- he lost his fucking shit during appas lost days- like full on screaming about appa and burrying his head in your chest while you quietly tell him appa will be okay

- he denies all of this too this day though (of course) but he loved it, and you’ll hear him humming leaves from the vine when he thinks his comm is off now on patrol

Cass

- she wasn’t really paying attention to the show at the beginning, more soaking in the family bonding moment and spending each night sitting next to a different person to understand more about them

- she liked watching tim because he gets really into it but steph is also a fun watching buddy because her reactions are sooo intense it’s like watching a movie watch a movie

- a month after showing Cass she came up to you with all these epic fan canon ideas for the future or the past, talking about what the avatar state meant and spewing crazy little facts you thought no one noticed

- turns out it’s her comfort show now, she watches it to remind her of Jason’s shitty sex jokes, Dick’s screeches, you’re silent tears, Babs failed plot predictions, and everything else from the week were for one you were all just kids

Tim

- For some reason I just think Tim’s seen it before

- he’s your buddy for laughing at his sibling’s reactions when you both know what’s coming

- the giddy smile he gives you before Katara does the epic water frozen save on Azula or Aang yeets into the avatar state

- him and cass are your lore buddies, you’ve all got all these crazy awesome ideas about the plot and what-not

- Tim crushes on Zuko hardcore, like that scene where he throws off his robe Tim’s cheeks are completely flushed, eyes stuck to the screen and you’re dying laughing

- sometimes you’ll come into the batcave and tim will be working while ATLA plays in the background and you’ll both silently rewatch it together making little quips about a funny moment from when the family watched it together it’s all so wholesome

Steph:

- Steph is a Sokka simp and you can’t tell me otherwise

- she’d pass out when his hair is down and everyone would roll their eyes

- she’d buy a boomerang for patrol and bruce would give a hard no but you can find her throwing it at shrubbery when bruce is out

- She also thinks Tai Lee is adorable and deserves the world

- “EVERYONE SLEEPS ON THE NON BENDERS OKAY SUKI COULD GET IT”

- “steph you came into my room at 5am for this?”

- steph honestly just says the thoughts we all have, when watching she’s totally immersed and falls for all the jumps and scary moments- her and dick are constantly being told to shut up while you die laughing at their reactions

Jason:

- dick basically had to chain him to the couch to watch at the beginning, he’d claim he had better stuff to do but eventually he’d be the one dragging people to the couch for the next episode

- would develop a bromance with zuko in season three

- convinced he’s a firebender and plays with wayyy too many lighters for a week to bruce’s concern

- thinks Mai is hot as fuck but claims he wouldn’t date her “cuz bro code” with his new imaginary best friend

- Roy comes by actually asking if he can meet zuko that’s how much jason talks about him it’s so cute

Babs:

- she’d slip in and out of watching while doing research or helping bruce during patrol, so she’d always sit next to you while you refreshed her during the episodes she caught

- she’d think aang was adorable and would try to convince dami to shave his head and get an arrow tattoo cuz he’d be cute

- she’d be the one to bring everyone water and sandwiches from alfie when you’ve all been binging for hours

- everyone needs a babs when they do a 3 season binge in a week, everyone say thank you babs RIGHT NOW hehehe

Dick:

- he’d be the one who got everyone there and he’d love being surrounded by his family

- granted, it was painful at first, giving constant death glares to dami and jason when they tried to get up and trying to get you to reveal plot secrets while you giggle, but in the end he was loving it

- he’d be crying 24/7

- when Mai and Tai Lee attack Azula and give the speech about loving Zuko more than Mai feared Azula he’s be screeching “GO OFF QUEEN YEAH SIS” while everyone tells him to shut up

- he’s a cabbage man stan and I love him for it

- his favorite season was season 2 because he loves toph because she reminds him of his siblings and he likes bumi and is convinced he’ll be a bumi when he’s older even though everyone tells him he’s such an iroh

- Dick would look back fondly on that week, surrounded by family who wasn’t fighting and could each have their own personality highlighted while all being together, he’d forever be thankful you brought up the idea : )

Bruce:

- it was a tough week for bruce, he hadn’t actually been alone on patrol for a long time

- it made it all worth it when he got to tiredly plop onto the couch with his kids

- he wasn’t watching the show he was watching them, the way they were invested in the show but also still took the time to bond even if they didn’t quite know it

- he got the best sleep of his life that week, passed out on the couch while his kids cuddled him, his white noise was Tim screaming at Damian and Steph babbling about Sokka, it was truly perfect. They were his family : )

I hope you enjoyed!!! Love you!

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ssson-of-sparda · 4 years ago

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Two Dresses (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty desperately wants to know what happened between Dante and Y/N. Hopefully, Morrison is here to help. (Part 3 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Fluff / Slight ANgst / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: Part 3 is out. Sorry for keeping you waiting. The story is coming to its end. Only one or two chapters left.

MISSION 3

Indifference is the worst form of contempt. But how can you be indifferent when a squeaking tiny voice as unbearable as fingernails on a chalkboard constantly splits your ears with endless whining? Dante wished to know. “Pleeeeaase Dante. You promised.” Patty begged again as she almost sprawled on the man’s desk, strangely not caring about the grease or the tomato sauce that were disgustingly splattered on the wooden surface. “I didn’t do such thing.” Dante nonchalantly took a bite of his pizza, trying to ignore Patty’s pleading blue eyes and her feeble attempt at convincing him to tell her the rest of his ‘love story’ (she had decreed it was one) with Y/N. “Come on, Dante! You have to tell me!” The frustration in every single word coming out of her mouth was growing stronger. You could hear it in the way her voice was becoming more and more piercing by the minute. And in spite of all the time spent with Patty, Dante had never succeeded in really ignoring her childish whims. “Don’t you watch TV shows?” She added. “You know full well I don’t.” And it was the truth. Except for adults programs once in a while, Dante cared less about television, contrary to Patty who was a professional binge-watcher capable of watching a dozen of episodes a day and still yearning for more. “Well, even if you don’t, haven’t you ever experienced the frustration of a cliffhanger? Like, in Bolero in Spring, when Jenna has a car accident right after she decides to run after Josh to finally tell him he is the love of her life and that she loves him too and you know you’ll have to wait a whole week to know what happens next?” Dante’s brain shut down after the first question, or maybe even before that, finding a not-so-surprising fascination for the slices of salami on his pizza and their perfectly round shapes. “Like I told you, I don’t watch TV.” “Haven’t you ever longed for anything?” “Yes actually. Right now, I long for peace … and quiet … and for you to finally shut up.” The girl glared at him, shooting daggers at him as sharp as a thousand Rebellions.

“What’s going on here?” Relief immediately shone in both Patty’s and Dante’s eyes when Morrison pushed the door of Devil May Cry, replacing the tension in the room with paternal warmth that was so like him. “Morrison! You got to help me. Dante doesn’t want to tell me what happened between him and Y/N” She complained with her small fists clenched tightly, a childish attitude that would have made Morrison smile if it hadn’t been for his surprise.“ You told Patty about Y/N? How weird of you.” “Not for free.” “You know her, Morrison?” There was a gleam in Patty’s eyes, one only curiosity and excitement could create. “By reputation. Everybody in the mercenary business knew who she was and was aware not to touch a hair on her head. I bet even demons knew. Y/N. Tony Redgrave’s beautiful girlfriend. And probably the only girl that could make Dante act somewhat … mature.” He said as he chose his words wisely, though he wasn’t sure they were fit for the memories of Dante he had in mind. “ What are you talking about? I’ve always been mature.” “ Yeah. Because eating strawberry sundaes and pizza everyday is very adult.” Dante frowned, pretty sure he had once heard a similar reprimand coming from someone else’s mean mouth. His mother? No … but close. “Have you been spending time with Trish lately?” “ Stop changing the subject and tell me the story!” Dante eyed at Morrison with an insisting look that meant ‘Get me the hell out of here.’ but today, he would not receive any help from his friend. “You know she won’t let go, Dante. So, should I tell her or should you?” Dante sighed. “Two dresses off my tab and it’s yours.”

TWO DRESSES

Two star-crossed lovers in fair Redgrave City, where we lay our scene …

Are you kidding me?! What? I thought you loved that kind of lovey-dovey crap. Dante! Fine …

The rest of the story was no Shakespearian play. There was no betrayal, no sword fighting, no friend or parent tragically murdered, no forbidden love, no unfair ending, no … Who was Dante kidding? There was all that and worse. Another reason why he hated Shakespeare so much. But when love started to bloom and with it the chances at a normal peaceful life, Dante never considered those dramatic events. Not even a slight second. After all, he was an overly enthusiastic nineteen year-old with the girl of his dreams on his arm and a long-awaited roof above his head. What could go wrong? Especially when all he thought about, all he imagined were simple mornings waking up with the one he loved so dearly and nights with his silver head in between…

“In between what?” “ Y/N’s fingers... Y/N’s fingers of course.” “ You’re not so good at making this story family-friendly you know that, Dante?” “I’m doing my best here, Morrison.”

And his epicurean – though quite lewd - plans were all shared to the utter despair of Y/N’s parents who constantly reminded Y/N of the big mistake she was making in getting involved with a boy like ‘that vermin Tony’. “What about college? What about that confortable life we wanted for you? How can you throw all this away for that boy?” Dante remembered the time Y/N’s mother had said that with a menacing finger and a poisonous tongue. That and the infamous “Is breeding with that trash and raising his filthy bastards truly what you want Y/N?” So long the time that family had generously taken him under their roof for a few days. Guess money does make you stuck-up assholes after all. That’s what he had wanted to reply. But instead, he had just stood still, arms crossed over his chest and had remained silent, out of respect for Y/N and also because, deep down, he was sometimes thinking the same.

He wanted the best for Y/N. He wanted to give her the best life had to offer, all the things she wanted, all the things she needed but he only had a few dollars in his pocket and a list of debts he didn’t really know how the erase. And even though she seemed like she didn’t mind now, what would happen in a few years, or even just a few months. What would happen when the little he had to offer would not be enough anymore?

“Will you love me all the same in a few years?” She asked him, soft hands placed over his strong naked chest and (colour) eyes staring deep in his looking for the truth. “I’m sure I will love you even more if that’s anything possible.” “Then stop worrying and stop with the silly questions already.” And she kissed him with all the comfort and the love she could gather. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like there was just them, only them, together, on that mattress on the floor in this furniture-less and decaying shop he had just been allowed to rent for an astronomical amount of money. “A neon sign.” “ What?” Dante asked a bit confused. “You should get a neon sign, like the one my parents had at the restaurant.” She added with a soft smile. “You want me to get a pink neon sign?” He joked and took delight when she laughed. She was so insanely beautiful when she was laughing. “It wasn’t pink. It was red.” “ My coat is red. That sign was definitely pink. And pink doesn’t scream ‘menacing devil-hunter in the house’?” “Menacing devil-hunter?” She repeated, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. “Where?” Dante looked at her smirking mockingly at him. “Watch it you!” He pushed her on the mattress and went to lie his burning yet still sweaty body over hers to place a multitude of hungry lovely kisses on her neck, wishing this moment would never end.

But it ended, as all good things end eventually. Thanks to Enzo Ferino, once again. That piece of shit had the knack to ruin things after all. “Tony! Per l’amore di Dio! Tony!” He shouted from downstairs, visibly alarmed if not terrified. “Speaking of the Italian midget.” Dante sighed, his lips still on Y/N’s skin, thinking that maybe ignoring Enzo would make him leave. “Tony!!!” “Damn it.” “Pretty sure the menacing devil-hunter hiding in this shop will scare him away?” Y/N taunted again and Dante grinned before pressing his lips on Y/N’s one last time. “Oh, he sure will. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Dante said as he reluctantly left his girl’s loving embrace to put on a pair of pants and go welcome his unwanted guest fidgeting in the hall. “ You’d better.”

“It better be important, Enzo.” Dante demanded as he lazily walked down the creaking stairs to show him how annoyed he was to see him here. “You’ve just ruined a perfect moment with my girl.” “Y/N? Y/N is with you?” The man’s eyes were widened with fear and distress and even though Dante knew how much of a coward Enzo was, he had never seen him that way. “How many girls do you think I have?” The short man leant against the wall and took a deep sigh. “Well, that’s relief I guess.” Dante frowned, unsure if he should remain annoyed or start asking questions. Hell, why not both. “Will you tell me what’s going on?” “A man came to Bobby’s Cellar. Looking for you.” “Not a first.” Dante walked pass Enzo to grab a bottle of whisky he had left early on on one of the many boxes he had not yet unpacked. “One of Denvers’ goons presumably.” He leant against the wall and took a mouthful of amber alcohol, thinking about the girl waiting for him upstairs and how he should have never left her. “No. Not Denvers. That man was working alone and he asked about a certain Dante.” The half-demon froze for a second and his blue eyes darted a brief astonished glance at his partner. A man looking for Dante - Dante, not Tony - was no good news. “I said I didn’t know any Dante but then he described you and I thought che cacchio è. Then he threatened me and … He was scary, Tony” “What did you tell him?” Dante frowned. He had the feeling Enzo had fucked up. He could feel it in his guts. Otherwise he would have never rushed to his new place in the middle of the night to warn him. “That you weren’t here. That you certainly were with Y/N. And then he had me, Tony. I …” “ You mentioned Y/N?” Enzo took an immediate step back when he heard the anger in Dante’s voice. “ I … I’m sorry. He … He tricked me.” Then he took another step and another one, trying to stay as far away as possible from Dante, until his back bumped against the door and he was able to spot a terrifying red flame burning with rage in the mercenary’s eyes who was towering him menacingly. “What did you say about Y/N?” If the weird man in Bobby’s Cellar had scared the shit out Enzo early on, what he had felt back then was nothing in comparison to he was feeling right now. Paralysed with fear, he couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the raging fire in Dante’s eyes and feel a burning warmth emanating from the young man’s body against him. Were those the flames of Hell? Was he about to be punished for his sin? For betraying his partner? “What did you say?” He shouted and Enzo trembled and squealed like a pig, arms covering his face to protect himself. Yes, his man Tony was about to flay him alive. He was sure of it. “What are you?” He mumbled.

“Tony.” Enzo thanked all the gods for that divine intervention. Though whom he should have truly thanked was Y/N and her soft reassuring voice that had miraculously pulled Dante from his dark rage.

I like her. Dante smiled.

“Stop please.” Enzo felt Dante calm down and when he finally walked away from him, the small man took a deep breath. “If something happens …” Dante didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to and Enzo was already nodding furiously. “I know.” He blindly grabbed the handle behind his back and quickly opened the door to run away as fast as he could.

Dante watched him running in the cold night with a frown until he couldn’t see him anymore. Then he swiftly strode back to Y/N waiting for him on top of the stairs to pull her in a strong protective embrace. And when his lips pressed in her silky hair and she realized he couldn’t let go, she started worrying. “What is it?” She had never felt him like that. “It’s nothing.” He replied softly even though the voice in his head was screaming things like Don’t you get out of my sight, even for a second. I can’t lose you. Not like my mother. I love you so freaking much. “Stay with me tonight.”

But deep down, Dante wasn’t sure this was the smartest decision.

***

“And so was it?” Patty curiously asked as she stared at Dante with her big blue eyes. “ Was it what?” He replied, pretending not to understand. He loved teasing her. “ The smartest decision?” She clarified with an enthusiasm that clearly showed her interest and her will to know more. “ I thought you loved cliffhangers.”

#DEVIL MAY CRY #DMC #DMC FANFICTION #DEVIL MAY CRY FANFICTION #DANTE #DMC DANTE #DANTE X READER #A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES #A TAB TO ERASE

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haloud · 5 years ago

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an overture bold and beyond

for the Roswell New Mexico Big Bang (@rnmbb)

[AO3 link]

Jesse is dead, and Alex is left standing in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions left behind by the events of Crashdown and the days leading up to it. With the dust settled, Alex and Michael pick through the debris--they've argued many times before, but the last one, in Michael's workshop, lingers over them, demanding...something, demanding to be seen, to be spoken, to be soothed. Through three conversations, they search for an understanding they've never found before, one that brings them closer together. (An episode 2x10 fix-it fic)

with art by @bisexualalienblast!

The shed is as it always was and at the same time something else entirely. Small and dusty, smelling of wood, at night it would throw weird, spiked shadows from the tools and trophies adorning the walls, but during the day the light is pale yellow and pleasant against the pine. Ten years of light and absence have faded the posters that still shroud the walls. The floor is clean and swept and no amount of scalded memory could make Alex recall exactly where the blood used to be.

Dad is dead, and that means there is a life’s worth of unloading and sorting and dispersing to do of the things he possessed and left a mark on, and Greg has done enough, which means it falls to Alex. And it’s only fitting that the shed go first.

Still, where to begin? Should he get a dumpster for the antlers or a box to collect the tools for donation? Should he be cold and unfeeling, or should he pore over the cracks of his soul and salvage some sentimentality, some silver lining for the toolbox that built his treehouse, or the low bench that served as his bed on the safe and hidden nights, or.

For so long, this tiny, old, unused building loomed so large in his mind it blotted out any light that could shine on anything else. And then, through sheer stubbornness, he told himself it was just a building with such intensity that now, here, with the boogeyman six feet deep for good, it’s shocking all over again to find out that he was right.

It’s just a building. There are cobwebs so thick one corner is entirely grayish-white. The windows are grimy; the floorboards creak. Alex stands in the middle with his hands in his pockets. Somehow, he always thought there would be more screaming, like the soft and sweet-smelling pine might have captured the echo. It’s almost as unsettling as seeing a ghost, to stand at the center of his nightmares and not be haunted at all.

Greg would have come out here with him if he’d asked—but he didn’t ask. Greg would have hovered, looked at him all full of concern, like he thought Alex was being some sort of martyr for tackling this alone. Hell, maybe Alex thought that too, just a bit. Maybe that’s why it’s so bizarre to stand here and be...fine.

He’s fine. He’s too fine. He’s so weirdly, blissfully, mind-numbingly fine.

No grief. No celebration. Just a fineness so complete and immaculate it could be mistaken for emptiness if his head were a little clearer.

Alex takes in a deep, woodsy breath and blows it out slowly, making dust motes scatter and dance.

He left the door open intentionally, to hear if Greg shouted for him, for a quick escape, just in case, for a breath of fresh air. When a shadow falls across it Alex freezes, braces for impact, until he jerks his head up and sees the reason.

“Hey,” Michael says. A smile flickers across his face and then it’s gone, and Alex breathes through the blow of it.

“Hey.”

A beat passes. Alex chews on the inside of his cheek. They’ve been alone together once since their fight, and that was a hostage situation.

“Maria made me bring food over. I gave it to Gregory. Seems to be holding up okay.”

Was that true? That Maria made him? Or was it a cover, a thin, defensive veneer protecting him from—well, if he was really just here on an errand of respectability at the behest of someone more respectable, he could have—it would have been easy, the easiest thing in the world, to leave the food and slip back out without Alex ever having even known he was there.

Yet here he is, having sought Alex out. Should Alex let himself hope that this means something, that everything they were building, all closeness and understanding, wasn’t set aflame and burned to ashes in a furious, impulsive whirlwind?

He’s here. It’s something.

Alex has been practicing, since that last night they were alone together, since the bunker. He had a lot of time to think and could only hum the melody he found for his song so many times. So he’s been practicing what he’d say next time he saw Michael, what he’d say to make it right. To stretch out an open hand and not snatch it back, to allow himself to be reached for and not snap at it, all teeth. It all feels like a ridiculous fantasy now, looking at Michael’s quiet, expressionless face. He’s never known what to say. Maybe he never will.

Clearing his throat, Alex says, “Yeah, he’s, uh, made his peace, I guess. Still, we’re keeping each other company for now. How’s Maria doing?”

“Hanging in there. If it wasn’t for Liz…” Michael swallows and glances away.

“Yeah,” Alex replies hoarsely. Yeah. If it wasn’t for Liz, Flint’s body count would be up by one, and it would be Alex’s fault. Should have secured him better. Should have made sure there wasn’t a second key. Should have warned Charlie instead of going out the back. Shouldn’t have been distracted by his father. Should do something to stop him from acting again. Disaster struck. Justice done. Should…

“Hey. Alex,” Michael says, and Alex snaps out of his head to see him hovering closer, concern all over his face.

“Just,” Alex waves his hand, waves him off. “Just thinking about where we’d be without Liz. Not a pretty picture.”

“Yeah.”

Michael retreats just a pace or two back to the door. For a moment, Alex jolts like he could stop him from leaving, but then Michael turns to talk again.

“And…how are you?”

“What?”

“I mean. I’m not sad the bastard’s dead, but.” Michael leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “I’m not gonna break out the champagne until I know it’s cool with you, I guess.”

“Ha. I…I think the feeling’s a little more ‘lazy Sunday’ than ‘wild party.’”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like…I can breathe easier now. I’m not ready to celebrate, I just want to drink it in, you know?”

“Sure. We can make it mimosas instead.”

At that, Alex laughs, a short and underused thing. He runs out of stamina quickly. Part of him aches to invite Michael in, to sit beside him on the bench and talk about all the things they aren’t saying. But how would Michael take that? Here, now? Alex needs more time to consider all the pieces on the board.

“And physically?” Michael steps back toward him, nearly pacing for the number of times he’s walked those three feet of floor. He touches his own forehead where Alex is cut in two jerky movements, one forward, one up. “No concussion or anything?”

Alex shakes his head. “Clean bill of health.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The awkwardness dances between them like the dust does, and Alex measures his breaths to keep calm. The light should make things easier; it couldn’t be more different from the dark underground of Michael’s workshop, but the tension between them is the same.

“You were right,” Alex blurts.

“I should go,” Michael blurts at the same time, and then the two of them are frozen again until Alex breaks the ice.

“No, don’t. Please. I didn’t get a chance to really say this when you found me, but I need to.”

Michael hesitates. Alex holds his breath. But then Michael sighs, shoulders lifting and falling, and nods.

Bracing himself, Alex continues.

“You were right.”

Michael makes another aborted noise of protest, but Alex barrels on.

“My father was lying and manipulating the way he always has, and I was so ready to think that he was defeated that I stopped trying to see through him. I wanted to be right so badly that I convinced myself I was, and I hurt you, and I could have hurt so many more people if Liz hadn’t been able to—if Isobel wasn’t there to hold off the fire—”

His voice falters and he closes his eyes, then forces them open. No hiding.

Michael works his jaw for a minute or so like he might respond, might get angry, but he takes so long to start talking Alex almost continues his speech.

But then Michael says, “You don’t have to do this. You’ve got no obligation to make me feel better or whatever. We both had a hand in making bombs this weekend, and I’m the one who knew what he was doing.”

“For me. You made a bomb for me.”

Michael levels him with a golden look.

“Yeah. I did.”

“To save me. And maybe I didn’t know what my father would use that piece for, but it was never going to be anything good. I just wanted answers, it didn’t have to be life or death. I’m—sorry.”

Alex hates apologies. Always has. After growing up the way he did, they always felt like a test, a test of his own commitment to forgiveness, to the value he chose for himself, the value his father never would have tried to beat into him. Or like an exertion of that same pressure on someone else, a desperate, pathetic cry for acceptance, for absolution.

And apologies were always particularly difficult between the two of them. Like each one granted might rip the bandage off all the old wounds that were never treated at all. But it was time, long past time, however, that they began to face these things.

Michael sucks in a breath and blows it back out in a huge sigh.

“Look,” he says. “It doesn’t make me feel any better to listen to you beat yourself up, okay? It’s not like you were entirely wrong; it’s not like I was making any strong effort to see things from your perspective. I…”

Michael flexes his left hand, then shoves it in his pocket, and another wave of guilt drags at Alex like quicksand. He can’t look away from that pocket even as Michael starts talking again.

“I still don’t understand. Why you would want him to change, why you would want anything from him after all this time and…everything. But there’s a lot I don’t get about family. And I probably would have told you giving up the piece was a bad idea no matter what, but I shouldn’t have to understand everything perfectly to listen when you’re telling me something’s important to you. I’ve been talking to Maria…” He pauses.

“It’s okay,” Alex prompts. It’s been months; there’s no point in pretending like what’s happening isn’t happening.

It would be easier if any of their endings felt like the end. If he could shake off the certainty of old habit that time would pass and gravity would bring them back together. Michael and Maria have a good thing. Alex is taking steps, trying new things. And yet…

Neither of them would ever say it. They’ll both push it to the back of their minds, paper over longing with something new.

Yet.

Michael says, “Maria isn’t sure if suppressing her powers her entire life is what she wants. And I feel like an asshole because we both know that I’m asking her to do something I might not be able to do myself in her shoes. So I’m trying to understand where she’s coming from, no matter how much it hurts. I’m putting in the work. In every part of my life, okay?”

Alex nods, not knowing what to say.

And Michael carries on, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “Anyway, I figure I might at least try and earn those second chances you keep giving me, right?”

His tone is light and weightless, but it sends Alex’s heart plummeting into his stomach.

“What does that mean?” He asks, even though he already knows.

Michael shrugs. “Look, I should really get back to the hospital. Text me if anything comes up, okay?”

“Michael!”

“What, Alex?”

His voice spikes, then his lips press together in a harsh line, but Alex doesn’t wait for any attempt at an apology. No amount of yelling ever made him scared of Michael.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “And it may be out of line for me to say this outright. But. You’re nothing like my father. Never have been. Giving you second chances—I mean, letting anyone make mistakes and work past them—it’s nothing you have to earn any more than, I mean, I have to earn them, which isn’t to say I don’t know I have things to work on—”

“Alex, stop.”

Michael mercy-kills his rambling, and Alex inhales deeply and bobs his head once in a nod, and Michael drops his eyes to the floor.

“Gonna tell you something I’ve never said to someone who wasn’t comatose, so, uh. Be honored, or something.”

Alex nods to tell him to go on, even if Michael can’t see it.

“Look, I know you know what it’s like to grow up under shitty circumstances, so I won’t waste your time getting into it, but. Growin’ up, and then even when I was older, in high school and after, all my relationships had always been…transactional. Except you never saw the price tag and you just had to guess.”

A soft noise escapes Alex’s mouth, and Michael glances up then lets his eyes slide away again. Alex doesn’t say a word to interrupt him. Alex is tense with a strange mix, gratitude and regret at how little he knew, how little he still knows, about how Michael the boy makes up Michael the man, and how little Michael knows in return. How much he still has to learn.

All he wants is for them to be in each other’s lives to keep that learning going. But how to say that in a way that isn’t begging Michael to be pinned down by him?

Michael continues, “That’s why I didn’t believe you at first when you said people could just be nice for no reason. You were the first person who showed me there was another way, and then after you, I…stopped believing in it again. Partially ‘cause I knew I’d fucked up with you, so I didn’t deserve you anymore. That’s a kid’s way of thinking at it, but yeah. With Max and Iz, with Sanders, with Maria, and yeah, with you, trading favors is what I default to, and I’m trying to stop thinkin’ of it like that. I am. But trying to earn things, people, second chances...it’s the kind of habit that’s stubborn to break.”

“I’m trying, too.” Alex measures his breath again and wonders if Michael can tell he’s doing it, how obvious he is. Does he owe Michael at least as much vulnerability and courage as that took, or is that transactional thinking too? “I’m trying to remember that my morality isn’t always universal. I thought I was doing what was right, and in some ways I was, but I was acting in a world where everyone thinks exactly like myself, and that’s just not the real one.”

Michael stands up a little, then. His eyes sharpen. Alex doesn’t know what he’s going to say, so he keeps talking.

“I subsumed my moral compass in work, in mission for so long, that the second I started recapturing it…I lost sight of so many other things.”

“No. No, Alex,” Michael says firmly. Outside, the sun is beginning to set, the light deepening, the blurriness of early dusk. It smudges Michael’s edges; it softens him. It’s reminiscent of how he looks at dawn, a sight Alex may never see again, and his chest aches. And he aches for the fine, furious tremble, the certainty in that fixed jaw.

“Yes,” Alex disagrees. “Your faith in me is…” So many words are so loaded. Unearned? Undeserved? “It’s, um, an honor. But…I think I know who I am now. And I’m learning more every day.”

He winces as his own cheesiness, but Michael just softens, slouching back against the door, a flicker of a smile on his face.

The light is truly dying, now, and Alex looks around the shed. He didn’t get anything done he intended to tonight, but it can wait for another day.

He looks back at Michael and asks, “Is it hard for you? Being here again. I should have asked earlier, I…”

His voice dies off as Michael takes a step inside, looking all around himself before his eyes settle on Alex again. He’d stayed so close to the doorway and the open air the whole time they were talking. Inside, with the broad shoulders and strong hands that had been budding and awkward on his seventeen year old self, he takes up so much room there’s none left for the last of the ghosts.

“I’m okay,” Michael says. “He’s gone. Never gonna hurt me again. Never gonna hurt you again.”

“I know it’s just a building, but it seems like it should be more. It was the only place I felt safe, and then in one moment he tore that away. It’s hard to process that someone like that is just…gone. You know he used to tell us all about how his grandfather built this place with his own two hands? I just…”

Michael looks at him, then, and it’s the same like the shed is the same. Ten years of safety, ten years of hiding and neglect. He looks at him like he always has, the careful, creative study of men who named constellations.

He has a hammer in his hands. He holds it out to Alex handle-first.

“Yeah. This place sucks.”

Michael looks like shit. His eyes are ringed with purple shadows, both from sitting by Maria’s bed and from the sleepless nights present and future, his hair rough from where he’s been running his hands through it. Isobel rests a hand in the crook of his arm, close enough to him that he can physically feel her comfort. If it were Alex, he’d chafe at the pity, but at the same time he’d do anything to be in Isobel’s place, to be allowed that closeness, to be that part of Michael’s life where he knew how to provide any comfort but silent presence.

Isobel, however, doesn’t stick around long after they read Tripp’s journal, leaving them with a tousle of Michael’s hair. They’re left to the bustle of a busy diner, but the world seems to shrink all the same. Alex fiddles with the loose vinyl strings at the edge of the booth and searches for the right thing to say.

“So do you think they were? Cosmic?” He asks, watching the cover of the journal like it could tell him anything more than it already has.

“Does it matter? They’re both dead.”

“I. Yeah. They are,” Alex says, then leans back in the booth and lets out a carefully measured sigh, working his fingertips into the muscle of his right thigh, hoping to ease the persistent ache.

His head hurts, too, and he closes his eyes to give himself a break from the pressure and strain behind them. It blots out the journal in front of him. It blots out Michael’s weary, troubled face; it blots out his strong, whole hands folded on the table.

Tripp must have closed his eyes too. For decades, as the woman he loved was tortured and imprisoned and experimented on and left to die, to die in front of her son’s screaming eyes as Alex held him back from joining her.

When he opens his eyes again, he almost expects Michael to be gone, but he isn’t.

“How are you holding up?” Alex asks, tentatively. His hand inches across the tabletop like he might take Michael’s, soothe him where he’s begun picking at the skin around his nails, but he forces it back before Michael even notices his approach.

“Fine. I’m…ha.” Michael shakes his head. “Gotta be fine, right? Been here before.”

“Michael…”

“It’s true.”

“I know.”

Alex doesn’t apologize. It wouldn’t mean anything anyway, not here and now with all that’s gone between them. Michael’s eyes flicker up to him as if checking his reaction; his shoulders curl inward, making himself small.

“Don’t know why I thought this time would be different. But now I know, I guess. Common denominator. Should’ve already known, but I’m a dumbass like that.”

“No, you’re not, you’re—”

Michael ruthlessly cuts him off. “Shouldn’t you be asking how Maria is, anyway? I thought you were her friend.”

Alex blinks at him, cocks his head. But it doesn’t take a genius, or an expert in Michael Guerin, to see that for the deflection that it is.

He has been to the hospital to see Maria, plenty of times. It’s basically only hospitalization that’s kept him from bringing it up, from asking what she’s thinking. Michael and he are here, now, only feet between them once again like the feet between them in the tiny shed as they tore it down around them. No closer. Alex wants to get closer, but denial is the reliable companion comfort is not. So Alex focuses on his body and filling it, staying within it, staying present, while Michael bleeds the love of two people and ten years and one into the space between them, walking wounded.

“I am, but I’m your friend too. And to hear her tell it, she’s the one who broke up with you. So I think my priorities are okay for now.”

“Oh, we’re friends now, are we?”

That one hurts, but Alex just shrugs. It’s true that friends might not be the right word for what they are to each other. What they are has to be a word that doesn’t quite exist, at least not in the only language either of them knows how to speak. If Alex lingers too long on the potential of the languages either of them could know if it weren’t for the confluence of violence and neglect, he would be lost.

Michael flattens his palms and leans over. “Nothing to say? Really?”

Alex replies, “I don’t want to fight again.”

“Why?” Michael snaps. “Because you don’t want anything from me right now?”

At that, Alex can’t help but flinch, muscles locked up and frozen like a wolf inches from the teeth of a trap, and Michael flinches as well.

“I—I didn’t mean that. I—” Michael shakes his head. His face twists into something awful, something grieving, something inward. He rocks back, muted colors all but disappearing against the bright vinyl cushion behind him. God, Alex just wants to touch him. A hand on his shoulder, a hand on his hand. It’s the only way they’ve ever been able to communicate. But just because it’s familiar doesn’t mean it’s enough.

“No, you’re right,” Alex reassures. “You’re right. In your lab, I was wrong to come at you like that, and not just that, I was completely out of line not taking no for an answer—”

“No, Alex, no. You might have been wrong about your father changing, but we already talked about this, and I should—I should be able to control myself by now.”

A prickle of unease trickles cold across the back of Alex’s neck. He lowers his voice, though it’s probably too late to prevent any eavesdropping. “What do you mean? Control yourself? Michael, you’re one of the most controlled people I know. I hate that you’ve had to be, but from what you’ve said, the control you have over your powers is amazing. Admirable.”

Michael barks out a dry laugh. “My powers. But it’s more than that, it’s always been. You know that better than anyone; you said it yourself, and you were right. Fucking wasting my life, right? And now here I am, wasting this chance to be there for you because I can’t just get over some hurt feelings.”

There for him. Michael is the one with the freshly broken heart, and he’s coming down on himself for not comforting Alex about the death of a great-uncle he never met, a great-uncle who abandoned his mother when she needed him. A great-uncle who should have died somewhere his brother never could have buried him on family land, should have died where he stood, like Alex would, like Alex would if it was Michael, if it was his—

Alex shakes his head frantically at that, at Michael’s cold shutting down of his own pain as just hurt feelings. What a screw-up. Michael isn’t perfect either, but Alex was never taught to pull punches, neither with fists nor with words.

“Michael, do you want to know why I said those things to you last time we fought?”

“Because I wasn’t listening! ‘Cause you were pissed at me, I don’t know—”

“Because the change in my father had me confused and scared, and I was floundering for control.”

Michael opens his mouth, eyebrows scrunching together like he’s ready to argue, but Alex barrels on, staring straight into Michael’s eyes, knowing in his core that Michael isn’t going to look away from him.

“I thought that piece could be leveraged against him, and I didn’t care how you felt about it. I was hurting, and I took it out on you because you were an easy target. A safe target. I know in every part of my being that you would never hurt me.”

“No!” Michael protests.

“So when I tell you some garbage about you not deserving my faith in you, it’s gospel, but when I tell you I was wrong, it’s too much?” Alex demands.

To that, Michael has no answer. His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out, so it snaps shut again and he shakes his head.

“I’m the last person who’s gonna get on your case for not watching your mouth when you’re pissed,” he says with a casual shrug.

The ache in Alex’s thigh has radiated all the way up into his hips and lower back. In the kitchen, something clatters to the ground, the sound bringing the setting back in harsh relief, the very public diner loud and living all around them. Michael takes notice too, leaning back self-consciously, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

Alex doesn’t know how to argue anymore; he knows he doesn’t want to. He can’t undo a lifetime of evidence built up inside Michael that he’s worthless with a few pretty words, no more than Michael could do for him over ten years. Trying is how they got here, at least in part. A good strategist knows when to retreat and try again another day.

Michael hasn’t said anything more, hasn’t probed farther for a fight, so sensing they’re done here, Alex takes the journal from the table to put it in his jacket pocket. But when his fingers touch leather something about the sensation makes him stop.

“Do…do you want to take it? I mean, he wrote about your mom, I…” He swallows, and continues, “I can’t give any part of her back to you, but if it gives you any comfort at all to read about her…”

“He was your ancestor. A Manes man. One who wasn’t a bloodthirsty bag of dicks. You should give it back to Maria or keep it if she doesn’t want it,” Michael says gruffly.

Not bloodthirsty, perhaps, but Alex is less sure that he was any sort of hero or any sort of comfort to Alex now. Tripp’s dog tags hang around his neck, warmed to the temperature of his skin but still palpably there, the feeling strange in a way his own never were. A reminder of what can happen if you believe in something but fail to act upon it.

“Yeah, it belongs to the Delucas. I wish Patricia had gotten to read it. I don’t know why Tripp didn’t...”

“And we never will. I’ll leave returning it to you. Can’t imagine Maria’s eager to see me at the moment.”

“You might be surprised.”

Michael just shrugs again and slides out of the booth, shoving his hands in his pockets when he stands.

Alex does a calculus at this point grown familiar, of whether he should nurse his drink for a little while longer so Michael doesn’t see how hard it is for him to stand, how painful to walk. So Michael doesn’t see him as weak. So they don’t have to have the awkward moment where Michael drives off while Alex calls an Uber or something because he walked here from the coffeeshop when Michael and Isobel texted him and now he can’t make the return trip. So—

“I got street parking,” Michael says.

“What?”

“My car’s right outside. Let me give you a lift home? We can stop by and grab whatever you need from your car and I’ll come back and get it, give it a tow or something.”

His eyes flick to Alex’s, briefly, then dance away. He doesn’t say it out loud, that he’s been able to notice that Alex is hurting.

“Or you can call Greg or Forrest or Kyle or something and I’ll get out of your hair,” he continues. “I know you don’t need my help—”

Alex grabs his wrist. He gets half cuff, half skin.

“Michael. I’d appreciate it, actually.”

The smile he gets is a half-bitten thing, brighter than the sun itself.

The sun sets in their eyes as they turn onto Alex’s street, and after ten minutes of silence, Michael speaks.

“I was out of line, spoiling for a fight with you back there. I won’t do it again.”

Alex doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s golden, pure gold.

“We’re both on the remedial track for emotions and handling conflict. I understand, Michael.” He curls his fingers around the truck’s bench seat like he did when he was seventeen and they couldn’t hold hands in public. He can almost imagine there are grooves there that fit just him. “It isn’t second chances, or third, or fourth. It’s proof we’re learning how to make mistakes without ending the whole world over it.”

If he stole some of that from his therapist, so be it.

Michael’s voice is a little thick when he replies.

“That...that sounds pretty good to me.”

When they pull up to Alex’s driveway, he doesn’t get out right away, though he picks up his crutch and settles it over his lap, partially for a quick escape if he loses his nerve, partially for something to do with his hands.

Alex watches the lavender-gold sky and says, “It’s okay, you know. To be angry. I know I said the opposite, before, but…” he swallows harshly. “But it was hypocritical, and I regret it, and.” Horribly, tears prick at his eyes, but he has to get through this. “You deserve to feel safe. I don’t want to make you feel unsafe, ever. I walk around saying I’m doing the opposite like I deserve some kind of medal, but then I attack you, and I put you in danger—”

He chances a glance Michael’s way, only for the crack in his heart to widen at his hunched, defensive posture, curled around the steering wheel like it’s a shield to protect him where he’s most vulnerable.

Michael says, “You were the first person. The only person. Who ever made me feel safe. Who ever cared enough to make sure I had a place to go even if I didn’t trust you or if I pushed back on it. Who didn’t ask anything in return. We share a lot of the same pain from those days. But I don’t know if you know what that meant to me. I don’t know if you know how fucking hard it is for me to hear you talk like this now. I don’t know what you want from me.”

Horror creeps in at the edges of Alex’s vision. His lips are numb, but they still form, “Michael, you...you haven’t thought that you owe me for that for all these years, right? Please, please tell me you haven’t…”

“No! God, no.”

Michael looks at him, the sunlight turning his eyes to honey. His mouth is chapped, but it just makes Alex want to feel that roughness with his thumb, cup his jaw and feel the stubble against his fingertips.

Those instincts may never go away, but that doesn’t mean they have to suffer, even if they can never make being in love good for the both of them. A life where their jagged edges align in the way only they can for each other, where they find that perfect angle where nothing, nothing hurts at all when they sit beside each other...that’s all they need.

Michael turns away before he says anything more. The sun doesn’t turn, though, just limns his eyelashes in gold, casts his cheekbones in dramatic shadow, and Alex lets out a soft sigh from somewhere deep in his soul that Michael can be, from every angle, this unchanged.

“I don’t want to owe anyone anything. I’m tired of it,” Michael says, voice low and rough. “And I found out recently that some people in my life I thought I was racking up debt to I’d die without repaying had wiped my slate clean long ago. I can be wrong about stuff sometimes. I’m pretty smart, but I’m a big boy.”

He flashes a quick morning-mist smile, eyes quirking sideways to look at Alex as he does it, and Alex smiles back, shoulders dropping as some tension leaves him. Michael’s eyes flick down and away before he speaks again.

“But where do we go from here? You and me, I mean. We keep tripping over ourselves to make up for the last fight out of too many to count in our lives, but there’s gonna be an after, too. What’s that look like for us?”

Alex rests his hand on the bench seat between them, just so it’s there, in case Michael wants to take it. And Michael glances down, and the apple of his throat bobs, but his hand doesn’t inch any closer.

That’s okay.

“Do you want to come inside?” Alex asks.

“Huh?”

“Friends hang out, right? No starting over. Let’s start from right here. Still got a guitar you can use, if you’re into that. Or we can crack open some beers and watch Netflix or something. Anything you want.”

Michael faces him for real for the first time, his generous mouth parted in shock, but then his face goes soft.

“Sure, yeah. I’d like that.”

Alex meets Michael’s eyes from across a crowded room. His cultural knowledge suffered significantly while he was active duty, but throughout his life he’s watched enough rom-coms curled up on the carpet with Liz, Rosa, and Maria to know how that’s supposed to feel, and to know now that the movies never did the feeling justice. Michael slowly removes his hat, and Alex’s heart swells so much he can hardly stand it.

And then Michael is gone, somewhere and sometime before Alex has lanced himself of all the words that have built up inside his skull, pounding against his temples, spilling out his eyes and ears and mouth. Only Isobel remains, and she gives him a sympathetic look and two thumbs up, whatever that means.

Well, not just Isobel. Greg is here, and Forrest, and some coworkers Alex turned Maria’s way to keep traffic up at the bar. But the space Michael left is vast and empty, and for all Alex didn’t ask him to come, it hurts a little like rejection would have hurt if he had asked and Michael told him no or hated the song.

At least he can hope that Michael heard something of what he’s trying to say and will carry that with him, whatever happens next.

The song ends. His fingers stutter and linger over the keys; the spell shatters around him and the world rushes back in with applause. Forrest beams at him from the front row, and he smiles back a little awkwardly. Being so vulnerable so publicly…not really his thing. But maybe not all bad, not when it brings tears to his brother’s eyes and he kisses a man in the open, his father’s voice drowned out by ivories and drunkards and his own heartbeat echoing off his bones.

Forrest squeezes his hips and smiles up at him as the next person takes the stage and the night goes on around them. “I’m proud of you,” he says, just for the two of them to hear. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…good.”

He does. He does feel good, in a way that’s refreshingly distinct from the haze of okay he’s been drifting in for weeks.

“Buy you a drink?” Forrest offers, raising his eyebrows, hooking his thumb back at the bar. Maria is still at home resting, so she isn’t there to support and/or lightly judge him.

“Uh…”

Say yes. He probably should, right? Just see what it’s like dating someone in the open. But would it be fair to use Forrest like that, as an experiment?

“…Can I take a rain check? This,” he gestures back at the stage, “Was kind of a lot for me, believe it or not, so I’m not in a chatty mood. Is that okay?”

Forrest’s smile doesn’t budge. “Okay, man, sure. See ya around.” And he heads to the bar alone.

Alex’s shoulders drop, feeling a little disappointed, feeling a little like he isn’t as disappointed as he should be. Hands in his pockets, he makes his way over to the door, only to stop short when he sees Kyle at a table in the back. Sheepishly, Kyle lifts his beer at him in a salute—but that isn’t an explanation, so Alex beelines for him anyway.

“I thought you hated this shit,” he says mildly, without preamble.

“Oh, I do. The second someone starts in on some amateur poetry, I’m out. But I was just being a dick earlier, and that’s not what I do these days so…”

“Apology accepted.”

Alex glances around before sliding in across from Kyle. It’ll get awkward if Forrest sees him, but oh well.

“Hell of a performance,” Kyle says, going to flag down a waiter until Alex stops him.

“I’m not sticking around for long. But, uh, thanks.”

Kyle takes another long pull of his beer, and Alex raises an eyebrow at him.

He says, “You know, if I was so bad you have to drink to forget, you can just say so. My delicate feelings have been through worse, actually.”

“Ha! No, it’s…” Kyle trails off, staring at his beer instead of anywhere near Alex. “Eh. It’s part of the deal, but sometimes it still sucks to get slapped with reality. No matter how much you change, the people you’ve hurt don’t have to forgive you.”

“I…”

“No, don’t apologize. I get it. I was a big part of the reason you never would have sung that song in this town without the people that support you now. It’s okay that you still hesitate sometimes about me. Just, you know,” he shrugs with a small smile. “Sometimes I’m gonna drink about it.”

Alex leans across the table. “Kyle. You’re a good man. And my friend. Okay?”

Kyle’s shoulders drop an inch or so, and his face shifts with a more genuine, soft smile. “Okay.” Then he turns serious again, and continues, “But you know it’s going to be the same for Flint, right? First, that you can’t redeem someone who has no remorse—I had to make my own choice to be a better guy, to live by a better code, and no one could have done that for me. Second, that even if he does make that choice, the people he’s hurt have no obligation to forgive him. Michael has no obligation to forgive him, and you can’t force him to. You have to make peace with that now, before you start down this road.”

“I know. But thank you, for the reminder.” Alex lets out a long breath. “I don’t know if I can forgive Flint. But he’s a part of my father’s legacy, too. I can’t undo all the harm, but if I can reduce any harm in the future, if I can even do that much…”

“I wish you luck. But, man, just...don’t try and bear too many other people’s sins, okay? You’re not responsible for what Flint does. You gotta look out for yourself, too, you know.”

“Thanks,” Alex says. What else is there to say? He might disagree with Kyle both on what makes someone responsible and also the degree to which he’s already acting in his own self-interest. A truly selfless person would focus on what’s already within control in order to do the most good, not on trying to control everything they could. But if Alex doesn’t know how to live with himself and his choices at this point, he’s already lost. There’s a certain comfort and strength in that.

“Any time,” Kyle replies, saluting him again.

Alex leaves the table and leaves Kyle to it, making for the door and for fresh air. He’ll go home and have a beer there, maybe. Look at his keyboard and think of other songs to write, now that he’s gotten Michael’s song out of his skull.

Like all songs won’t be about Michael, somehow, always.

That thought might have been depressing six months ago, six years ago, in the middle of all the missing they’ve done. But now Alex lets the nostalgia wash over him, welcomes it as an old friend. As a part of him, natural, not something that needs to be fixed or cut away. Every song is about Michael because Michael is a part of him. Nothing wrong with that, no matter how their relationship keeps changing, even if Alex never gets what he wants. He can live with that.

He steps out onto the Pony’s empty patio. Most likely everyone is either still inside watching other performers go on or has already left in disgust at the whole affair. The glow of the string bulbs softens the night, turns the bar into a welcoming place, an oasis of light, makes it hard to take that last step off the porch and into the parking lot. That’s probably the idea. Maria’s savvy like that.

According to Max, Michael helped her hang these a few years back, and somehow he always comes up with replacement bulbs when they’re needed, always knows just what the fix is. It’s so easy to imagine him up on a ladder, deft hands weaving the cords around the wooden lattice, winding a perfect web, not too bright or harsh, just right. Alex sighs, and if it’s overly wistful, well, that’s a secret between him and the night.

“Everything okay?”

Alex jerks around at that voice. He’s heard it from nowhere before, but this probably isn’t one of those times, and sure enough, Michael lifts his head to give Alex a look of concern, head tilted to the side. That dramatic black hat, along with his dark clothes and curled-in posture, it makes him blend into the background, no matter how large he looms in Alex’s eye. He’s always been good at diminishing, at blending. Alex wishes he’d never had to learn to do that.

Alex forces his shoulders to lower, forces a smile to his face. “Yeah, you just startled me. Didn’t think anyone was out here, and, um, I thought you left. During the song.”

The silence stretches too long, too awkward as Michael rolls his shoulders in a shrug, does a familiar old nervous gesture of taking off his hat, running his hand through his hair, and settling his hat back down. Alex spent two weeks trying to find the chords right for that memory, the quiet yearning it awakes in him.

“Yeah, I—I don’t know,” Michael says.

He doesn’t lean against the wall; he doesn’t fold his arms in front of him. He has nothing in his hands. Alex can’t remember the last time he saw him so without a shield, and it takes his breath away.

Michael continues, “I know I wasn’t invited. I mean, uh, I think you didn’t mind seeing me too much, if I can read your face half as well now as I used to, but I wanted to respect that.”

“I didn’t! I didn’t mind.”

Silence falls again. Alex should say something more, should explain himself, shouldn’t let Michael walk away from this thinking he wasn’t wanted.

He blurts, “I thought about inviting you, but I—well, you heard the song, and with things with Maria still so recent and up in the air, I didn’t want to put you in a tough spot. I understand.”

Michael smiles at him, a look so soft Alex can hardly stand it. He licks his lips as if to check if he can still feel, still taste Forrest there, like that might be some sort of reminder that there are other things in life than Michael. He feels nothing, tastes nothing—but how much of the way Michael has always lingered on his skin and on his senses has been psychosomatic all along, because of how much he wished Michael would stay? No one could ever compare. It’s wrong of him to even try.

“You could have asked,” Michael says. “Let me know what it was about. I would have been here. I would have come. I’m happy—proud of you. For doing that, in there. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. The moment you needed.”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I want to say I was doing it for me, but...it’s hard to tell. Something else I’m working on.” Alex shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets just for something to do with them. “It...it definitely meant something, though. I’m happy.”

“Then I’m happy, too.”

Alex shakes his head. “You don’t have to say that. You wanted so badly to be open with me, but I was never ready, and now that I am, it’s…” Too late. But he doesn’t say it, like filling the air with it might make it even more real than it already is.

“Alex. I lived in this town with your father for ten years. I got it. It hurt, and that hurt might have been screaming louder than the fear we both shared, but I did feel it too.”

The silence that follows has a hole in it where another apology might fit, but if they get started they’ll be here all night.

“Look, um,” Michael says, “Were you looking to get out of here or do you want to sit for a while? It’s a pretty nice night.”

What had previously been the truth—that the show had him feeling good but wanting privacy after willingly divesting it so dramatically—goes right up in smoke, and in its place is just the clean, simple desire to be in Michael’s company, close enough for their knees to brush under the small table, under the fairy lights, under the sky.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says. Alex sucks in a sharp breath.

He hadn’t expected the apology to actually reach the air. Hadn’t even wanted it to.

Alex has never liked apologies. What good is an apology? Greg used to apologize, sometimes, in hushed words when their father wasn’t listening. Flint and Clay never bothered, and Alex preferred it to empty words. Greg’s apology is easier to accept now, with the advantage of hindsight, coupled with action, but Alex doesn’t know how to react to Michael’s sorry.

Jesse Manes never apologized. Not for anything. And now he’s dead. Alex sits across from Michael. The slam of the Pony’s door as someone leaves, the slam of a car door as someone arrives, it all just sounds like hammers falling one after another.

How long did it take for Alex to stop flinching at the sound of military-issue boots approaching? At the shape a man’s shoulders made in uniform towering over him? At the snap and bark of a sergeant’s voice?

Michael’s shoulders are rounded. He always slouches so much.

Alex misses flinching, sometimes. He misses simple, unconditioned, weak prey instincts, universal signals of the vulnerable, of the frightened, so someone capable of comforting him might know how badly he’s in need of comforting—

“Alex?”

Michael’s hand rests in the middle of the small table, bare, his palm upturned like it’s just waiting for the weight of Alex’s hand to settle on top of it. It’s his left hand. Over ten years and one hundred hoarded golden hours, Alex loved the way that hand touched him, like it was all of Michael contained in one small limb. Hurt and hopeful, with a necessary tender lightness, with a shape that sometimes made his throat ache to look at it. Some days he couldn’t use it at all. But he never hid, never tried to cover that part of himself to make Alex comfortable. Maybe that’s why Alex reacted so poorly to the bandana he wore these past months. He made the mistake for so long of thinking that a baring of scars was the same as a baring of souls, and then he learned he was wrong. And then Michael’s scars were gone…

But the hurt still lingered.

Alex puts his hand in Michael’s.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Hearing you sing in there…you’ve got me thinking about how much time we missed. The part I played in all that, pushing you away time and again. Not trusting you, not talking to you.”

“We were just kids.”

“I know. Still. Kids hurt each other all the time, and worse than adults do, most of it. And I’ve done my fair share of that, too.”

Oh, Michael.

“The hurt kids do to each other, it’s not the same,” Alex says softly, as gently as he can muster. “I’m thirty years old. If I can’t look back and forgive the kids we were over the past ten years, what hope is there for me now?”

Michael shakes his head stubbornly. “I was old enough to know better. To be better. To use my words instead of just lashing out when I was hurt. Maybe you don’t remember some of the shit I said, when we used to fight over you leaving, but I do. If we’re turning over a new leaf now, sayin’ sorry just feels like the right thing to do.”

He makes himself look so small. The table forces the barest necessary space between them, but not so little Alex can gracefully lean across it to press their foreheads together, or to rest his hand against Michael’s heart, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how tightly he presses their hands together to make up for it. He wants to feel that heartbeat, let Michael feel his own, match themselves to the same vital rhythm.

But this is about new leaves, like Michael said. So Alex takes a deep breath and lets the words stretch and burn and breathe between them, strengthening the muscles that he let grow so weak for so long.

“Michael. Listen to me. When you were seventeen, homeless, and vulnerable in ways I couldn’t even comprehend, you threw yourself onto my rich, homophobic, military father to protect me. That takes more courage and goodness than it takes to throw yourself on a grenade. Trust me, I know.”

“But—”

Alex leans in, the table biting into his stomach, close enough now to feel Michael’s breath on his cheek and smell rain off the collar of his shirt. “I refuse to blame us—to blame you—for the way it broke us afterward. Okay? No more keeping score. We have the pieces—we can, maybe we can work together to put them back together. No matter what the final picture turns out to look like, even if it’s something completely different than we thought it would be at seventeen. Is that—would that be okay?”

Michael’s thumb passes over the back of Alex’s hand, a simple gesture that makes the hair stand up on his arms. All static, all electric. Alex aches, but it’s a good one.

“I don’t know if it’s too late for us. And you weren’t wrong when you said that things are still rough with Maria. It doesn’t even feel real that things could be over between me and her. And I saw the way Forrest Long looked at you.” Michael’s voice goes so soft Alex can hardly stand it. “If that’s something, you should let it be something.”

“I don’t know if it’s something. I don’t know if I want it to be.”

Alex’s words are distant even to his own ears.

Michael says, “That’s okay too. I’m just tired of pushing, tired of pulling. I want us both to be free, to, to just follow our hearts and see where we end up. I guess that’s my version of not keeping score. ‘Cause I know that you’re in here,” he puts his other hand over his heart, “No matter what our relationship is like. Fighting that just hurts us worse.”

Hope is such a painful thing. Michael told him that for years and years and Alex never quite believed him. But now that he’s asked to hold true to his own beliefs—that hope is necessary, that hope is a tool against yesterday, a compass pointed firmly in the direction of tomorrow—he wavers.

“It shouldn’t have had to be a fight,” he says. “You tried to tell me that you just needed space months ago, and I didn’t—couldn’t—didn’t want to listen. I wanted us to be okay; I thought if I atoned or whatever, we would be okay. But I wasn’t doing it for you. Digging for information, turning over every rock to find the ugliness underneath, that’s what I needed, not you.”

“But you were trying. I recognize that now, I do.”

“I—” Inches from arguing, Alex stops himself short. Patterns, it’s all patterns. They both have to get better at recognizing them, and that means Alex can’t do the same thing he’s told Michael is wrong, where he believes Michael’s assessment of him only when it suits the ugliest voices in his head.

So he says, “Yes. I was. I wanted to empower you the way I feel empowered when I have all the information at my fingertips, but I didn’t ask you what you needed.”

Michael leans forward. “And I should have told you outright that I needed space instead of trying to make you leave so it would make sense when you did—or just trying to hurt you for staying this time and not any other time when I really needed you to.”

Alex swallows hard and nods. He leans forward too. Michael’s hand is so, so warm in his. The two of them walk the same tightrope toward solid ground.

“I’m glad,” Michael says. “I’m glad that you stayed this time. You deserve to know that. I’ve been fighting to get free of the past; I know it’s unchangeable, but it’s always there, telling me all the ways I should have been better, and. Right now, in the present. Thank you. For being there this year.”

Michael smiles at him, a real smile, the kind of look Alex thought he might have imagined from across the bar, with music in his lungs. His eyes crinkle up, sparkling, face utterly transformed with what can only be utterly consuming fondness.

I love you. I love you. I love you. How could he not? How could he have ever convinced himself he was capable of stopping? Michael’s laughter is the joy of knowing someone. Alex hasn’t felt so seen and so unafraid since he was seventeen years old.

Maria and Michael just broke up a few days ago, and it wasn’t mutual. There are so many leaps Alex wants to take now that he’s taken this one, to see how they feel, to reshape and reaffirm his comfort zone now that some of his ghosts have been put to rest. There are so many reasons to wait, to make sure that this time they can get this right.

But what if Michael doesn’t know? Even at this stage down the long road of getting to know the man he loves, Alex knows how easily he doubts his own worth

He and Maria understand each other, as ever. He would give up his brain to see the future, too.

Michael’s face has gone soft and concerned the longer Alex hasn’t responded. Tingling spreads up Alex’s arm when Michael’s warm, rough hand tightens around his own, and the softness he feels helps unloosen his chest and let the words come out.

“No, thank you,” he says, fitting his other hand around Michael’s knuckles so Michael’s healed hand is cradled between his.

That touch lingers for a long moment. For most of their lives, Alex hasn’t been able to read Michael’s face, has second-guessed what he thought each little flicker meant, has held back from acting on what he thought Michael was telling him, no matter how achingly open Michael’s face was. Now, though, Alex just has no idea what is going through Michael’s head as he watches their joined hands, Alex’s fingers against Michael’s bare skin, the bandana abandoned somewhere before Michael even came to the Pony tonight.

“Should we...should we talk about this?” Alex asks, letting his finger draw gently against Michael’s middle knuckle. Michael’s fingers flex in his grip.

“Don’t know what there is to talk about.”

“I don’t know.” Alex shifts and clears his throat. “Just...anything you want to say. Anything you’re feeling. Anything you want to say to me specifically.”

Michael glances around. They’re alone on the patio, but Alex understands. The silence of the night and the muffled clamor of the bar on the other side of the wall give the illusion the whole world is listening.

Then, bluntly, he says, “It hurt. What you said. That you so obviously didn’t understand I might have a hard time looking at it for personal reasons, since I never asked for it to be healed. I thought if anyone understood that, you would.”

Alex’s knee twinges in concert. He itches to rub it, but his hands stay still wrapped around Michael’s.

Michael continues, “Hiding the healing had nothing to do with you, and if I was still pissed at your dad for causing it or at Max for healing it, that wasn’t really any of your business, either. That’s all.”

Deep breaths. Having all that out in the open is a clean thing, a necessary thing. Alex nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Michael nods back and lets his shoulders drop. “But Max is the person I need to get into it with, not you. Then he was dead when I really needed to, so it got all twisted up and stuck inside of me, and I didn’t say anything to anyone. I don’t blame you for not being a mind reader and coming to some wrong conclusions.”

It’s that—it’s that that leaves Alex floundering for a moment, that instant of Michael seeing his guilt and cutting through it with a few words. He leaves a vacuum in its place and all of Alex’s other feelings, so carefully compartmentalized, have to rush to fill it in. Michael lets the silence linger, but Alex can feel the quickness of his heartbeat in the small of his wrist.

“What about you? Anything you want to say to me?” Michael says. “‘Cause we’ve fought before, but for some reason we keep coming back to the bunker. Feels like maybe there’s something there.”

“I…”

That...yeah. He was right. So many times, they’d fought. When they were kids and everything was falling apart. Over ten years, among the pieces. The argument they had in the bunker was practically a level-headed disagreement compared to the fight they had before Alex’s last deployment, the worst one, the one that cut them apart for almost two years without a word to each other. Even that one had scattered like mist under the morning sun when they were in each other’s arms again.

And maybe that’s part of it. That their physical relationship has changed, that without the language of touch everything feels harsher and harder to forget. But the other reason lurks behind the walls in his mind.

He’s supposed to be better now. More peaceful, more understanding, more balanced. To preach forgiveness then lash out at Michael, the one person it’s always been safe to be angry with—it’s an ugly thing. Alex doesn’t want to hold it. Doesn’t want to be that. He’s supposed to be better now. It doesn’t matter how often a therapist tells him progress isn’t a straight line. It shouldn’t matter.

If he can fix this, make it like it never happened, maybe he can fix them.

Alex doesn’t want to look that feeling in the eyes. Has avoided it, so far. And how to say it? He doesn’t even know if Michael wants them fixed. Not the same way Alex does. And now’s not the time to ask that question.

“I just want us to be okay,” he says. Simple. Weak. He hates the sound of pleading inside his own skull. He isn’t used to it. It’s just Michael. Michael won’t use it against him, won’t hurt him, he knows this, but inside something turns and hides and covers its head with its arms waiting for the blow. To buy it time, he babbles, “Not talking about it feels like hiding. All the times we let arguments go in the past—I want to do things differently, to actually say I know what I did wrong and say that I know we, I, can do better, I don’t know, I just want things to be different, to change for good—”

“Okay.”

Michael’s voice is soft. So soft Alex wants to whimper.

“Okay, Alex,” he repeats. Now his other hand, hesitating just slightly, comes up to rest against Alex’s, so they’re holding onto each other as fast as they can with the distance and objects between them.

That’s it? Just okay?

Michael shifts their hands, slides their fingers together slowly, and gives them a squeeze.

Oh.

Okay.

“Were you wanting to get out of here?” Michael asks suddenly, dipping his head slightly so his hat hides his eyes.

“No, um. Actually, I think I’ll stay a while. It’s a nice night.”

He’s exhausted, but nothing could tear him away. Not now. And it is a nice night, clear and cool, the sky wide and velvet above them, in their little bubble of light.

“Cool,” Michael says. He leans back in his chair, though he leaves their hands connected, and he looks up at Alex again, eyes glimmering with a smile. “‘Cause I want to hear more about how you got into songwriting for real. You didn’t tell me about it when we hung out the other day.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Alex replies, but his heart sings at the interest.

“Ok, sure, uh-huh. Well I’m going to go get us drinks, and when I get back maybe you can distract me and pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

“Between the two of us, you’re the one with the magic hands,” Alex says, only for his mouth to drop open when he realizes what he’s just said.

But Michael is already cackling, and the sound is so soothing to Alex’s soul he can’t interrupt, and he’s standing up to go inside, and it’s impossible not to notice how he doesn’t let their hands drop until the last possible moment, and then he’s sweeping his hat off his head with a dramatic bow and a cheeky smirk, and Alex can’t help but smile back at him.

He turns to head back into the Pony, and as Alex watches and mirrors the motion, he flexes his hands, rubs them together, then slides them into his pockets as if to hide the lingering feeling of touch for safekeeping.

And then Alex is alone, still smiling, knowing Michael will be back soon.

#rnm bb #roswell nm big bang #my fic #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin

85 notes · View notes

nochiquinn · 4 years ago

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campaign 2 episode 140: I don’t even have a title for this, how do you title this

listen I'm lowkey theorizing that they get tpk'd and that's why this ending feels so abrupt; I think they only film one week ahead so I don't know how realistic that is

(note that I am not HOPING they get tpk'd, I'm merely noting the possibility)

critrole closet where do I obtain taliesin's shirt

ashley johnson ma'am stop I'm already gay

SHOW US THE MINI MATT

I take it back put the mini away

mala: remember when this guy had like egg on his dick

bf:I'm hearing matt doing that description and I'm just picturing him putting on costume pieces as he does

(mala: taking out the dm is a valid strategy)

summon WHAT NOW

oh he can cast meteor, that's fine

look at liam, he knows EXACTLY what he's about to get hit with

I HATE IT

MATT I HATE IT

leave essek ALONE

JESTER VS BIG SCARY MONSTER REDO

success!!

lkfgslk travis

LEAVE ESSEK ALONE

shared HP pool!!

I was joking aout the tpk, matt

oh god bless

I zoned out until caleb successfully made lucien throw a tantrum

(I know this is Big Important Combat but it is still combat and therefore I have no attention span)

I really appreciate how fair they are about reminding each other about shit that affects them negatively. tbf the internet would scream it at them after but I still appreciate it

these eyeballs is fuckin

matt: fury is mounting in lucien me, distracted: a furry is mounting lucien, got it

we get it you played kingdom hearts 2

"he threw another moon at me" is THAT what the fjord moon theory was

"EVERYBODY everybody?" homestar runner never leaves you

make those eyes work for you

fruit salad new ship name

wait did he say "they need you" or "I need you" bc either way I went momentarily slightly feral. I don't even ship it that hard (OR SO I THOUGHT)

"I press my forehead to his" nope there I go

I WAS F U C K I N G JOKING

who made the post earlier about there not being a true rez ritual this campaign, I blame them

the entirety of top table is killing me. travis and liam with the most intense faces and laura sitting in the middle just crying.

also liam and sam texting, what are you plotting

someone get ashley some tissues. brian I know you're offscreen, get ashley some tissues

hey artagan you wanna fuckin shOW UP NOW

THAT broke through, we love when the dice cooperate with the narrative

man jester and arty are gonna have a come to jesus meeting after this

MATTHEW

OKAY but that was a really cool thought

and he didn't say it WOULDN'T have worked

PUNCH U WITH UR PAST

how the FUCK

"THE COMPANY DESERVES TO SEE THIS"

LONG MAY HE REIGN

"was saving it for something" was it Wish

oh I hate how that sounds

oh thank god

my head hurts

okay I have to go boop the child nobody FUCKING DIE

I stood up and got actively dizzy, this episode is gonna kill me

they didn't give a "this episode is five fucking hours long" warning so I assume it'll end soonish but how or why I do not know

Please Save My Boy

Please Save My Boy(s)

MY GIRL

JESTER VS BIG SCARY MONSTER RECORD RESTORED

I am ashley

a BREAK? a fucking BREAK? IT IS ONE THIRTY AY EM

I figured that was the explaination, was the somnovum blocking artagan, but also

"insight check" fuck you don't make me laugh right now

don't think about how this is the second time they've seen molly's body dead on the ground

someone smack a healing into caleb please

yeah is it like a big flesh cocoon or a naga situation

ughhh if they rez him they risk it being lucien again and not molly

wizard HEAL THYSELF

if they res molly tonight I'm gonna puke

like just out of stress. that is the only recourse left to me.

YEAH

if liam cries I cry

the city knows what jester is capable of and gave up the bag bc It Knows Better

I actually don't know if I want this to work, I'm torn

it is a crime that they cannot irl hold hands right now

if he asks taliesin if molly wants to come back I will actually puke

what's the dc for this? isn't it like a 10 for the first death? does this count as his first death?????

hello 911 laura bailey is murdering me with acting

jester lavorre vs death

matt trying to finagle it in their favor

"you are frustrating and we miss you"

essek :(

fjord :(

although nobody knows it and no one knows our names, that doesn't make it cheaper it was worth it just the same

you know what, this I can accept. caduceus who saw fjord go down on the ship and just said "no". caduceus who stared down his friend's abuser and told him to go fuck himself (respectfully). caduceus who saw something extremely unfair and said "I'm fixing it". if this is what does it, I can accept this.

he's a BABY

he had fucking archetypes in his head for each of them and that's all he remembers

make taliesin talk to himself

I've been drinking ice water and that was A Mistake, I'm shivering terribly AND I have to pee

yesss

taliesin, res thyself

#critical role #spoilers #crititag #liveblog

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nevervalentines · 5 years ago

Text

on the nights that dani can’t sleep, jamie keeps her company.

Some nights are worse than others.

Logically, Dani knows that she fell asleep in her bed. Jamie had gone to sleep before her, but she’d stayed up late, sifting through boxes they had dragged out of the attic that morning.

The old tenant – who Jamie and Dani have started just affectionately referring to as Agnes, inventing convoluted backstories when they get bored – had left crates of her castaways in the crawlspace behind the bedroom, in the attic hatch at the top of the stairs, and their landlord promised a break on the rent if they sorted through it for him.

Dani doesn’t mind. Jamie’s been working steadily on some sort of project, eyes bright in that way Dani knows, even now, means she’ll tell her when she’s ready – but she has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the storefront that emptied out on Main Street a few weeks before.

She needs something to fill her days beyond worry, beyond avoiding her own reflections, a habit she feels she only had the luxury of a few days without. It’s not as bad now, not with Jamie beside her, but the prickling unease creeps up at night, a feeling like being watched, one that burns when the candlelight doesn’t.

She’d found a dusty cardboard box of beaten, well-loved paperbacks among the junk in the attic, and laid them out on the living room rug carefully, paging through the broken spines, earmarking a few to send to Miles and Flora, for when they’re older, setting aside others that she can imagine Jamie nose deep in on the porch in jean shorts and a too-tiny tank top.

She’d crawled into bed sometime around midnight, and Jamie, half-asleep, had immediately turned into her warmth, burying her face in her chest, arm snaking around her waist.

Sleep had almost come easy, tangled in a soft quilt and Jamie’s long, bare legs, but now –

Water fills her mouth, her eyes, her nose. Dani can feel the pressure deep in her ears, like she is 12-years-old again, chasing neighbors to the bottom of the in-ground pool in Edmund’s back yard, daring each other to stay down the longest, until lungs were fit to bursting, and eardrums throbbed with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

Then, it was as simple as pushing off the cool, tile bottom, straining for watery sunlight and that first, ecstatic gasping inhale. Now, there is no relief.

Dani wakes up drowning.

It’s Jamie that seems to save her. She hears the repetition of her name, a worried hum in the back of a throat, then a warm hand cupping her neck, her cheek, stroking gentle over her forehead.

“Dani, baby, it’s okay.” The hands help her sit up, a body curls around her back. “Just a dream, sweetheart. Just a dream. I’m right here. Breathe, Dani, breathe.”

She opens her eyes and it’s like she can see Jamie from a great distance, through the water. Her eyes are wild, image distorted, but she looks older somehow. She is screaming.

They are both screaming.

When she finally wrenches free from the nightmare, she is sweat-drenched and trembling. Jamie, her Jamie, is holding her tight against her chest, smoothing back Dani’s matted bangs and murmuring nonsense against her temple.

Gasping, Dani thinks she might cry, and realizes her cheeks are already wet. She turns her head to find Jamie’s wide, worried eyes.

“There you are,” Jamie says. She exhales, shaky. “That was a bad one, huh?”

Dani nods, chokes around her own voice until she manages the two-syllable break of Jamie’s name.

Soothing, Jamie cradles her closer, turns a kiss into the apple of her cheek, rubs her nose against her temple. In the sling of her hips, the warm-soft-damp of the inside of bare thighs holds Dani close, and that grounds her as much as anything – to be held, to have no one at her back but someone she trusts completely.

“Jamie,” this again, lips tucked into her mouth, a little embarrassed now. “I’m so sorry –”

Jamie clicks her tongue, chiding. “Don’t apologize.” She shifts out from under Dani’s weight, slides to the end of the bed. “I was just thinking I’d gotten my eight hours, anyway.”

Eyes cast to the bedside, Dani can see the neon digits of the alarm clock only advertise 4:30 a.m., but she doesn’t correct her, just reaches for her, a little put out that Jamie has already moved away.

“Alright, clingy, let me just get you a fresh shirt.”

Dani manages a laugh, a little tear-soaked, and sniffles. “I’m so sweaty.”

Rummaging through the top drawer of their armoire, Jamie turns to her curiously. “Like you’ve jumped in a pool. Someone tell your body it’s October, it’s well freezing in here.”

She tosses a t-shirt toward the bed, and Dani recognizes it as one of Jamie’s – black, with a scratchy decal boasting Blondie’s 1977 tour circuit. Despite the lingering sour of the dream, she feels a pulse of pleasure that Jamie would choose one of her own shirts to outfit her in. The smell alone is comforting, even though their laundry loads have long mixed, the fabric still holds something of Jamie about it.

She peels off her own shirt, skin bare underneath, and can practically hear the Looney Tune-esque sproing as Jamie’s eyes narrow in on – and instantly avert away from – her chest. It makes her giggle around another sniff, and she preens a little bit, ruffles one hand through her hair while shaking out the fresh shirt.

Jamie stops pretending not to look, wobbles a step closer instead.

“No fair,” she says, lowly. “You’re in a vulnerable state, stop showing off.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dani says, though, yeah, maybe she is a little bit. It’s new, this – that thing where watching someone else be turned on by her also kind of gets her off. That even in the near-black of their bedroom, lit only by the glow of the clock and muted streetlights, her naked chest is enough to give Jamie that dizzy, milk-drunk kind of look.

She pulls the shirt over her head, snuggles into the fabric, dipping her nose into the collar for a whiff of detergent.

“Back to bed?” she asks, though her voice sounds unconvincing, even to her.

Skeptical, Jamie steps closer, lays a hand on her knee. “Could you sleep?”

“Probably not,” Dani admits. Shrugs. “I might just go lay down on the couch. I don’t want to keep you up.”

Jamie is already heading out of the room, looking back at Dani like she’s confused why she isn’t following.

“We’ll put something on,” she says. Holds out a hand, and says, awfully, terribly, like it’s common sense, like there’s no other option, “you aren’t waiting up on your own.”

There is still the phantom catch of water in her lungs, still faces forming in the shadows of the room in her peripherals, ghosts there, waiting with catching hands – but the inevitably of it feels impossible in light of Jamie’s certainty. Jamie who, after stepping through the doorway, knows without looking that Dani will follow.

The worst nights, the nights like these, when the Beast presses like a headache, they pop an old VHS tape into the VCR and Jamie tucks behind her on the living room couch. The blue wash from the portly, pot-bellied television set and the whir-click-hiss of the VHS unspooling triggers a placebo of near-instant calm.

The VHS tapes are also a gift from dear (likely departed) Agnes. A painstakingly catalogued box of taped Happy Days reruns, with careful handwriting detailing the original airdate, and the episode range on the cassette. Inexplicably the thirteenth episode of every season is missing. Entire nights have been spent arguing the logic of it to no avail.

Like she does every time, Dani compliments (presumably) Agnes’s organization. “Really did us a favor, huh?” she says, sinking back into Jamie’s arms, accepting a kiss against her cheek before wriggling closer.

“Is it a favor?” Jamie asks, a little snarky, nudging her hips against Dani’s, pinned between her and the back of the couch. “Or is this some sort of purgatory? Am I due to spend the rest of my life watching Happy Days reruns before daybreak with my sweaty girlfriend?”

“Hey!” It’s a difficult angle, but Dani tries to swat at Jamie anyway. Jamie just holds her tighter, buries a laugh at the nape of Dani’s neck, then a kiss.

“I’m not sweaty,” Dani says, a beat, “anymore. And we both know hell isn’t a 70s sitcom.”

Internally, the word girlfriend is spiraling through her head in a frenzied whirr. Forbidden. Delicious.

Jamie grants her another kiss, this one just under her jaw. “It better not be.”

The drone of the television in the background is enough to scare the shadows away, and Jamie drags a knit throw over the both of them, hooks her chin over her shoulder, one hand playing at the drawstring of Dani’s sweatpants. They’re lazy enough, sleepy enough, that they don’t even bother to fast forward through the commercials, just let the tape run through seven-year-old advertisements for Kellogg’s cereal and sugar-free JELL-O.

The world narrows to this sliver of couch, to Jamie stroking low on her stomach, a hand slipped up under her shirt now, unrushed, nearly unintentional. She traces shapes on the soft of Dani’s belly, inches up toward Dani’s breast like she’s considering, before running her nails gently back down.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Dani says, voice slurred with almost-sleep, spooning back into Jamie’s hips until she hears her hiss.

“Who said anything about finishing?” Jamie murmurs. Teeth at the lobe of Dani’s ear, nosing into skin. The click of mouth on the metal stud of Dani’s earing, breath warm. “I could do this all night.”

Eventually, she’ll take pity, tune out the laugh track, slip her hand under the band of Dani’s sweats, mouthing at her neck until the Lady is the last thing on Dani’s mind.

Credits roll, the tape clunks to an anticlimactic finish, and the blue screen washes them, static crackling in fizzing threads.

“I change my mind,” Jamie groans. Dani turns in her arms, reaching for her wrist, digging nails in until Jamie curls two fingers inside her, swallowing her gasps, “If this is purgatory, I think I’ll stay.”

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #dani clayton #my writing #will i ever let dani actually sleep?????#remains to be seen #at least shes getting fingered i guess!!#in this economy take what u can get #dedicated to all the nice anons...u guy r the real mvps

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, and a whole mess of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“C’mere.” You say to him. You sit up slightly. “I want you to like hover over me while I suck on you.”

“Are you sure you want my balls in your face like that?” He chuckles.

“Won’t bother me.”

Harry comes closer to you, and grips the top of your headboard. You grip him in your hand at first, and then put your mouth right on him. He sucks in a breath when he feels your hot, wet mouth around him. Sometimes you think back to when you were younger. You absolutely hated sucking dick. Some guys just had bad hygiene. But you loved doing it for Harry. He really made you see how hot it was to pleasure someone else orally. He also kept things trim and clean, which you very much appreciated.

He rocks against your face, going deeper down your throat. You groan against him, and he grips your headboard tighter. His eyes are screwed shut, trying to picture his dick inside of you where he really wants it. It’s not that he didn’t love it when you blew him, he just wanted to feel how tight you were.

It doesn’t take him long to come down your throat. You swallow up every bit of it, and he climbs off of you. You get up to rinse your mouth out.

“Holy shit!” You scream, and he rushes into in the bathroom to make sure you’re alright. He finds you inspecting the back of your body in the mirror. Your front wasn’t nearly as fucked up. “Jesus, Harry.” You say rubbing a spot on your shoulder. “I look like a leopard.” You start laughing.

“You said I could…”

“I’m not complaining.” You assure him.

“Looks good on you anyways.” He gives you kiss on the cheek and pats your bum. He leaves you to do your thing in the bathroom.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom you pick up his t-shirt and throw it on over you. He’s sitting up in bed reading.

“Harry, you look so cute in your glasses, have I ever told you that?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Maybe once or twice.” He teases. He finishes the last page of his book and sighs.

“What?” You ask getting into the bed.

“Nothin’, just sad. This was the last book in this series.”

“Did it have a happy ending?”

“As happy as it could be, yeah. It’s my second time readin’ it, still gets to me.” He takes his glasses of and wipes a tear away.

“I wish I liked reading as much as you do. I much prefer television.”

“I just like getting’ lost in the pages. I mean, I read garbage novels, but they’re just so addicting. Has a television show ever moved you to tears?”

“Oh, tons of times. I think TV has made me cry more than film.”

“Really? What shows have made you cry?” He pulls you into his chest and turns the light off. God, you loved pillow talk before bed.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was in high school, and college too, I was really into Glee.”

“That show about the nerds in the acapella club?”

“Yeah.”

“That show made you cry?”

“I think just about every episode in the third season made me cry, and I sobbed during the season finale. To be fair, I was like sixteen.” You giggle. “There were a couple of scripted series on MTV too that made me super emotional.”

“Like what?”

“There was a show called Awkward that just really fired me up. And there was Teen Wolf.”

“Teen Wolf? Isn’t that a movie with Michael J. Fox?”

“Yeah! But then MTV made a show based off the movie, much darker though. It was really good. Well, it got worse as the seasons went on, but I watched through to the end. Same with Awkward.”

“Do you watch anythin’ now that tugs at your heart strings?”

“Um��I really like that show Roswell: New Mexico. I didn’t think I would like it so much, but it got to me. The first season is on Netflix, maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“I used to like live blog and write reviews for the shows I’d watch. I still do sometimes.”

“Where do you blog?”

“On Tumblr mostly.”

“That’s cool that you do that.”

“It’s funny because I hate reading reviews of things. I like to try things out for myself. Oh! Do you watch Stranger Things? That’s a good one. Niall and I always binge watch it together when a new season comes out.”

“That’s right!” He starts laughing. “I remember he like blew me off during the day on the 4th this summer to go meet up with you.”

“That was an incredible binge, if I do say so. Speaking of him, he wants to have a movie night Friday so we can all celebrate our good news. I was thinking of having everyone over here. What do you think?”

“Works for me.” He smiles at you.

Your period was a killer this week. There were several times during the week you found yourself on the floor in your office. You had run out of your stash of ibuprofen, and hadn’t had time to get more. You were forced to just suffer in silence. The pain would pass eventually, and then you could get on with it.

Harry was good about not getting on your nerves too much. He was slowly learning what you needed while your hormones were at their peak. Every morning you’d examine your body, almost becoming sad at seeing the marks slowly fade away as they healed. You were incredibly horny, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d had sex on your period before, but you certainly weren’t going to let him use his fingers or mouth on you right now. You had contemplated maybe in the shower, but you were afraid of residue. You didn’t tell him this, but you got yourself off a couple times in the shower on your own. You had to, the ache between your legs was just too unbearable.

Your body was trying to tell you something for sure, but your mind tried its best to keep you at bay.

You were delighted when your period ended Friday morning, but your stomach felt like shit. The first week of a birth control pack was your least favorite thing, even more so than your period. Your dosage wasn’t even that high, but it still would make you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Anythin’ ya need me t’pick up for tonight? I can do a run to the market before ya get home from work.” Harry says to you sitting up in bed, watching you pick your outfit for the day.

“Think I have everything we need. I have chips and dip, we’ll probably order pizza or something.” You decide on a pair of dark jeans and blouse/blazer combination. You throw your hair up in a high pony, and take a few strands out to frame your face.

“Know what we’re watchin’ yet?”

“Nope.”

“Who’s comin?” You sigh and look at him.

“Harry, I love you, but you’ve reached my capacity for questions this morning, okay?” He blinks at you.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I just feel gross and I’m hormonal. Not a great excuse.”

“One more question.” You nod. “Is Aunt Flow still in town?”

“No she left early this morning, thank god. This was a rougher month.” You sit on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on your thigh.

“Sometimes I wish I could just take all your aches away.” You smile at him.

“You do, in more ways than you know.” You stand up and give him a light kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

You felt better as the work day went on. You were excited to have a little double date with Niall and Sarah. Harry got out of work around 4PM, so he went straight to your apartment. He knew you’d want to have the place ready to go so you could relax when you got home. He fluffed up the pillows on your couch, and folded up the couple of blankets you kept on the back of it. He made sure all of the beer for him and Niall was in the fridge, and he picked up your favorite wine.

You keyed into your apartment around 5:30, and kicked off your shoes. Your nose was pink from the cold air outside. Harry had his legs slung over one of the large chairs you had near the couch. He had his laptop, and was working away. He looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“Hi, love.” He says.

“Hi honey.” You yawn.

“I tidied a bit for ya.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you. M’just gonna go change quick.”

You change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and come back out to Harry. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, and gestures for you to come sit with him. You sit in his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. He rocks you back and forth slowly, and you let out a calming sigh.

“How’s my baby girl today, hm?”

“Tired.” He rubs your back. “But I’m happy to have friends over tonight.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“I bought that wine you really like.”

“Mm.” Is all you muster out as you start to doze off in his arms. He chuckles, but lets you drift.

Your eyes snap open when you hear Niall and Sarah walk into your place. You practically jump off of Harry.

“Sorry, did we disturb you two?” Sarah giggles. “We brought a veggie platter.” She hands it to Harry.

“No, I fell asleep. I was exhausted.” You stretch, and hug your friend.

“Alright, what are we watchin? TV, movie?” Niall says.

“Oh! You know what was on the other night that I’d love to watch all the way through?” You say.

“What?”

“The Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I refrained from watching it because it was halfway through. It’s on Netflix, do we feel like a comedy?”

“Works for me.” Niall says.

“I love that movie!” Sarah says.

Harry and Niall grab their beer, and you and Sarah fill your glasses with wine. You and Sarah sit in the middle of the couch, and your boyfriends sit on either side of you. Your apartment was filled with giggles right off the bat.

“God, we love a young Paul Rudd.” Sarah says.

“We love a Paul Rudd at any age.” You clink your glass with hers. Harry pinches your arm, and you giggle. “What?”

“I’m sittin’ right here. You’re attracted to him?”

“You’re not?! He’s beautiful!” You and Sarah start laughing.

“Isn’t he like fifty?” Niall chimes in.

“So?” You and Sarah say at the same time.

“He’s a hall pass for sure.” Sarah says, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.

“Agreed. What I would give for a night with Paul Rudd.” You look up at Harry and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, mate, here I was thinkin’ she liked the tall, tan guys, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Now you’ve learned your place.” Niall says laughing. You kiss Harry on the cheek.

You and Sarah laugh so hard you both cry when Jonah Hill makes his small cameo. The guys end up laughing pretty hard at several moments too. You get up to grab the veggie platter out of the fridge and set it up on the coffee table for everyone.

“Thanks for bringing this by the way.”

“Oh no problem, figured it would be better than pizza. Are you excited for Hanukkah to start tomorrow?”

“Yes! I look forward to the gift card my uncle gives me every year.” You giggle.

“Is Harry going with you?” Sarah asks.

“Yup.” You two share a look and start laughing.

“Alright, why does this keep happening? Has everyone been to this party but me?”

“Pretty much, lad.”

“What’s the big deal? Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“Y/N’s great uncle is just a really funny guy. I would just watch out when he greets you.”

“Sarah!”

“You’re not even going to warn him?”

“Warn me of what?”

“If she didn’t warn me, she doesn’t get to warn him.” Niall says.

“Harry…just…” Sarah giggles. “He’s just an older Jewish guy with different ways of saying hello. That’s all.”

“What’s he gonna do? Hug me? M’fine with that.”

“Sure, he’s going to hug you.” Sarah shrugs. “It’s a really great way to know you’re part of the family.”

Sarah and Niall leave around 11PM. You and Harry clean up the living room, and head to the bedroom.

“What time should we leave tomorrow?”

“Party starts at six, so we should probably leave here at like quarter of five, might be traffic.”

“Oh great, so we can sleep in a little?”

“Yup.” You kiss him and turn over. He wraps himself around you, being the bigger spoon.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we were able to do it. Gotta make more time for them.”

“Definitely….so, Paul Rudd could have you huh?” You turn over to face your stupid boyfriend.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nice to know how you really feel.” He fake pouts.

“I’m sure you have your own celebrity crushes.”

“I suppose. None I would leave you for to go fuck though. Wouldn’t be worth it.” You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “You would really ask me for a hall pass for Paul Rudd? Of all people?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if he wasn’t married with kids, I would consider it. More than anything I think I’d like to just have dinner with him, pick his brain.”

“So you want to go out on a date with him?”

“Sure!” You giggle.

“Who else do you swoon over?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“That’s a very personal question.” You tease.

“Why?”

“Because you’re essentially asking me about who I’ve fantasized about.”

“Jesus, if you tell me you’ve touched yourself thinking about Paul R-“

“I haven’t! Not with him.”

“Who then?” Your cheeks flush. “C’mon, I wanna know who my competition is.”

“Harry, it’s embarrassing.” You shove your face into his chest.

“Please, I’m so curious.” He begs.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.” You lift your head and look at him.

“I would bone Andy Samberg if I had the chance, again, if he wasn’t married with a child. I will not be a homewrecker.”

“What is with you and older Jewish dudes?”

“Don’t know. It’s not because they’re Jewish. I just find him really attractive, plus he’s funny. You’re funny.”

“Right, the key to a girl’s heart is humor.” He rolls his eyes.

“Harry, if you didn’t make me laugh on our first date, I wouldn’t have seen you again, attraction or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Sense of humor is very important to me. You’re so quick when you joke around, you could be a comedian yourself.” He lifts your chin up to kiss you.

“So, you were pretty hot f’me when we first met, huh?”

“So hot.” You roll your eyes. “I had never seen a man quite so handsome. What about me? What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I wanted to hit Niall for not doing you justice. I mean the lad told me you were beautiful, but shit, when I saw you, I nearly got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh stop.” You swat your arm at his chest.

“M’serious. And you were so cute at the end of the night, when you simply kissed me on the cheek. It was so innocent and sweet. Not somethin’ I had really experienced before.”

“How do your first dates typically go?” You giggle. Harry scrunches his face.

“Do ya really wanna know the answer t’that?”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you usually bone on the first date?”

“That’s usually the only date I want, so yeah.” He says a little too honestly.

“What about the girl you dated for like seven months, or whatever?”

“Uhh, we got frisky…didn’t do it til the second date I think. I don’t know, I was such an asshole, I basically just thought of her as the girl I was consistently hookin’ up with.”

“Were you sleeping with other people?”

“Nah, just her.”

“And she thought you were dating, but you didn’t think you were?”

“I just thought of her as the girl I was seein’.” You often wondered what made you so goddamn special. You and Harry had talked about it before, but it still baffled you. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You know what I really liked about you, like, right off the bat?”

“What?”

“You were just so open and lovely. You were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I thought it was sweet that you complimented m’nails, like not in a judgey way. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly. I’d never felt that way before.”

“So you didn’t want to just fuck me then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned the opportunity down. I mean, you looked so fuckin’ sexy in that little black dress you wore.”

“I’ve never seen a man wear a pair of pants the way that you do.”

“What?” He laughs.

“You have a bubble butt babe, and it’s incredible. Love sinking my nails into those cheeks.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe just a bit buzzed, but I mean what I say.” You prop yourself up to really look at him. “You have a chonk, my dude.” Harry burst out laughing.

“Who talks like that?” He says with a big smile.

“Me and my friends. You’re not the only with a dirty mouth.” You wink. “You know what, I think that’s why I like Paul Rudd and Andy Samberg so much. They both have pretty big butts.”

You both giggle about a bunch of different things until you fall asleep.

The next morning you both happily slept in. You got up before Harry. You decided to do a light workout in your living room since you didn’t go to the gym much last week. You put on a pair of spandex shorts and sports bra, and tip toed out. You were just finishing your cool down when Harry walked into the living room, blanket wrapped around him. You guzzled down some water. Your body was drenched in sweat.

“Morning baby. Thought I’d get a quick workout in, we’re going to be eating a lot of food tonight.” He squints at you.

“You…you weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” He rubs his eyes, his voice was still thick with sleep.

“I was just out here, did you think I went somewhere?” You turn the TV off, and walk towards him.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just reached for you and you weren’t there.” He pouts. “I like when we snuggle in the mornin’. You’ve deprived me.” You giggle at him.

“Is baby a little cranky this morning?” You pinch of his cheeks and walk by him.

“Where you goin’ now?” He whines.

“Harry, I’m caked with sweat, I need to shower. You can join me if you want.”

“Not awake enough to shower.”

“That makes no sense. Showers wake people up all the time.”

“Too much work.” He curls up on the couch, and closes his eyes.

You take your shower, alone. You take full advantage of having the privacy to shave every last inch of yourself. You blow dry your hair, and throw your robe on, not really feeling like putting clothes on yet. Harry was still wrapped in your blanket, but he was sitting up and had a mug in his hands. He was watching something mindless on television. You sit down next to him and smile. You throw your legs over his lap.

“Feel how smooth my legs are, I just shaved them.” He gives you a funny look and giggles, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs.

“Mm, so soft.”

“You’re a sleep boy today.”

“Yeah, I am. Not really sure why, I’ll perk up once the coffee’s in me.”

“Want me make something for breakfast? I have oatmeal and grapes.”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

You turn on the electric kettle Harry had sneakily bought you. He said it was for him so he could have tea quick, but you know he wanted you to have one of your own. Once the water was boiling, you poured it into the two bowls of quick oats you made up. You but a dash of cinnamon in each, and topped it with some grapes. You come back over and hand him his bowl.

“Thank you baby.”

“My pleasure.”

You both scarf down your breakfast, and sit on the couch a while longer. Harry gets up to clean the bowls, and puts them in the dishwasher. He stretches out, and lets out a moan.

“Alright, guess I’ll shower now.”

You bring the blanket back to the bed and make it up. Harry’s in and out of the shower quick. He has his towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, filing your nails, he sits down next you.

“How long we been together now? Little over four months?”

“Yeah, it’ll be five in January.” You smile. “Why?” He twiddles his thumbs.

“Well, it might be too soon to be bringin’ this up, but s’not like that’s ever stopped us before. I’m here a lot, and I love your place. I still like my place, but I love your place because this is where you and all your things are. I didn’t know if maybe when we got back from holiday, maybe we could entertain the idea of finding a place of our own?” He looks up at you. You’re speechless. “I mean, I’d say let’s just live here, but I need a space for my desk and monitor. I think a two bedroom where we could split the other room as a conjoined office or somethin’, would make the most sense.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’ve totally freaked you out haven’t I?”

“How long have you, um, felt this way? When did you realize you wanted to live with me?”

“Can’t pin point it. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I know it seems fast, but we’re practically livin’ together as it is. We can talk about it later if you’re not ready now. Just wanted to put the bug in your ear.”

You were amazed. You hadn’t even fully slept with the man yet, and he already wanted to live with you. You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed. You crawl on top of him, and kiss his face all over.

“Harry, I would love to live with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Maybe like towards the end of January we could start looking for a bigger place. You know, once all of the holidays are over. Can you break your lease at any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Why?”

“Well…you could move in here before we find another place. Doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying rent. It could take us months to find a place, I’d rather have you here during the in between. We can rearrange the furniture to fit all of your things. And I have that storage unit, we could keep your bed and bulkier furniture there for a little while.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him. “Um…not that I don’t wanna tell the world, but I’d like to keep this quiet from my family for a bit. I still have to tell my dad about England. I’d rather ease them into something like this.”

“Of course. Better keep it quiet from my mum too. Keep everything nice and light.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Harry always seemed to be able to read your mind. It was a conversation you were hoping to have with him after you got back from England. You just couldn’t believe that he beat you to it. You were practically living together, and it didn’t make sense for you both to be paying rent separately. You’d miss his little place, but you’d eventually find a bigger place you both liked. You still loved the idea of potentially living in Niall’s building. Once you start making more money, you’d be able to afford it no problem.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles y/n fic #did you guys think they'd move in together so fast???#i'm starting to get caught up #i only have through part 30 written #may not be able to update as often soon

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marvelslut16 · 6 years ago

Text

A helping hand

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Synopsis:(Y/N)’s younger sister is part of the party. so what happens when she witness’s Billy getting hit when she goes to pick Max up and then when he arrives bloody and bruised on her doorstep two days later? Will she help him and let him in on her life before Hawkins, or will her hatred for him make her turn him away? Takes place between seasons 2 and 3.

Word count: 2602

Warnings: First (and possibly only) time writing for Billy, so he’s pretty OOC. Swearing. Abuse. Neil being the grade a asshole that he is. Talk of domestic violence. Angst?

“Stay in the car, I’ll be back in a minute,” you turn around to face your little sister, Carol, who’s sitting in the back seat flipping through the pages of her seventeen magazine.

“Okay,” she glances up at you. “We’re supposed to be at the arcade in ten minutes, we can’t be late.”

She’s frantic that she’ll be late and upset Dustin. “Ah, young love,” you tease her as you step out of the car, catching the last seconds of her sticking her tongue out. Carol and Dustin had been friends their entire life, and she’s been in love with him for almost as long.

You make your way to the front door of the Hargrove house, you’re here to pick up Max and drop the two off at the arcade to meet up with the rest of the party. It was a cold and snowy January in Hawkins, so the kids obviously couldn’t ride their bikes or skateboards. As you get closer to the door, you swear you can hear the hushed tone of someone yelling at their kids. You ignore the uneasy feeling rising in your stomach and knock on the door.

Susan Hargrove answers the door with a fake smile plastered on her face. You’re about to greet her when you hear shouting coming from down the hall. “You’re just a worthless fucking faggot Billy,” you hear a male voice bellow, you make eye contact with Max over her mothers shoulder. She looks embarrassed, which makes a deep frown appear on your face. This must be normal. “You’re too busy staring at yourself in the mirror that you can’t drive your sister to the arcade, you make some girl come out of her way to get Maxine.” Billy and his father are now in your line of sight, but blocked from your sister's view because of your frame.

Before you can assure them that it’s no problem and that it was actually on the way Billy mumbles, “she’s not my sister.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” his father seethes. “You need to learn respect and responsibility.” As the last word leaves his lips the sound of flesh on flesh resonates in the air.

It takes you half a second to realize that Neil’s hand is in the air and Billy’s face is turned away from the door. The smack happened so fast that you almost missed it. A small gasp leaves your lips, reminding everyone that you just witnessed their dark secrets. Billy’s blue eyes snap to yours as they seem to glow in rage, but towards you and not his father. There’s also a sadness deep within those angry eyes, a sadness that only someone who can relate can see.

Max is frantically pulling on her red winter coat, trying to get out of the house as fast as humanly possible.

“I’ll have Max home by eight,” you give Susan a sad smile. “I have to go shopping, but then I’ll be at the arcade with the kids for the rest of the time. And really, it was no bother picking her up, Max and Carol get along great.”

“Bye mom,” Max mumbles as she pushes her way out the door and towards your car. Susan gives you one last sad smile, and your eye’s briefly flick to Billy who looks like he’s about to break something, before the front door closes.

As you walk away you can hear Neil’s voice pick back up, there’s a part of you that wants to cry for the poor broken boy on the other side of that door. But it’s Billy, the bully, the new king of Hawkins High. The Billy that goes around tormenting Steve, and the one that makes fun of the nerdy kids. No, you wouldn’t cry for him. He’s just as bad as his father.

Max and Carol talk and laugh the entire way to the arcade. Max pretending nothing happened, and Carol none the wiser to what goes on in the Hargrove house. Carol is impatient and practically jumps out to the car before it stops moving, five minutes late from when she promised Dustin she would be here. Max is slower, almost like she’s at war with herself on whether to say anything or not.

“Max,” you say as she slides a foot out the door. “If it’s ever too much and you need somewhere to stay for a night, our door is always open. No questions asked and no one has to know.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly before following your sister into the arcade.

When you drop Max off later that night Billy’s Camaro is nowhere to be seen.

At school the next morning you feel a tight grip around your wrist as you’re walking down the hall to first period. Before you can properly react you’re spun around and engulfed in the strong scent of cologne and cigarette smoke. You’re once again greeted by Billy’s angry blue eyes as he pulls you into a secluded corner.

“Let go of me,” you glare at him, yanking your wrist away from him. Taking a few steps back, wanting as much space between you and him as you could get. Billy looked angry, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be on the receiving side of that anger.

“I don’t want your pity and you best not say anything to anyone about what you saw yesterday (Y/L/N),” Billy threatens. Even though it’s the middle of January Billy still only has half of his shirt buttoned. His chest muscles visibly flexing with his erratic angry breathing.

“Why the hell would I say anything? Just so you can deny it before beating me to a pulp like you did to Steve? I’ll pass,” your eyes narrow at the bad boy. “And I sure as hell don’t fucking pity you. Yeah, you’re life sucks, Neil sucks. But you choose to be just like him. Abused or not, that’s no excuse to become the bully Hargrove. A bad life doesn’t give you the excuse to be a shit person. And you could try to be nicer to Max, while she may not be the one getting hit, living in a toxic home is just as terrible.”

Billy takes a step back, like you’ve burned him. His face holds a faint trace of sorrow, good. Maybe he’ll be knocked down a peg or two. Out of the corner of your eye you see Steve shoot you a weird look as his eyes land on you and his enemy.

“Harrington,” you call as Steve walks passed you and Billy. He stops and turns around, raising an eyebrow when his eyes flick to your company. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Studying for our calculus test,” he watches you intently as you step closer to him, still wondering why you were with Billy.

“The kids are coming over to watch the new Indiana Jones, do you want to join us? We can study after the movie, I love Harrison Ford too much to actually miss the movie,” you laugh softly. “Plus my parents left this morning, so I’m babysitting seven hormonal middle schoolers alone, please save me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Steve laughs at your over dramatic attitude.

“Half of them are dating each other, and then my sisters crush on Dustin, I can’t handle all that drama on my own,” you whine as you start to walk down the hall. “Plus it's free pizza, popcorn, and all the ice cream you can eat. And a new episode of Saturday Night Live when the kids fall asleep” You bat your eyelashes at your friend and co parent to the party.

“Fine,” he sighs reluctantly. “But Hargrove better not be there.”

“Like he’d ever show up,” you laugh as you run down the hall as the warning bell sounds.

Before you know it, it’s Saturday afternoon and you’re surrounded by kids. Susan dropped Max off first, and the poor woman couldn’t look you in the eyes. And that fact that Billy, who according to Max always takes her places, wasn’t the one dropping her off made you slightly worried.

You’re about twenty minutes into the movie and throwing popcorn at Steve when there’s a hesitant and irregular pounding on your front door. “Stay here,” you tell the kids. Steve follows a few steps behind you.

You’re greeted by Billy’s bruised face when you open the door. He has a bruised and swollen eye that pairs with his split lip. Dried blood on his chin and drops on his white shirt.

“Oh my God, Billy,” you breathe. Your body works without your brains help, and you gently grab his wrist and pull him into your house.

“I know you said the door was always open for Max,” his voice hoarse, almost like he was in a screaming match earlier. His right arm wrapped tightly around his torso. “Do ya think you can make an exception for me?” Max joins the three teens when she hears Billy’s voice, her face falls slightly at the sight of his condition.

“Steve, Max, why don’t you guys go back to the movie. Billy, let’s go get you cleaned up,” you grab his hand and gently pull him towards the stairs. Steve goes to protest, but Max pulls him away with her.

“What happened?” you ask after you shut the bedroom door behind you, running to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. Billy remains silent as he watches your concentration face as you lightly dab at his split lip.

“I was working out too loudly, then I accidently spilled his beer,” Billy won’t look you in the eyes.

“We graduate in a few months and then you’ll be free,” you interject optimistically.

“You know I’ll never change, right?” Billy says as he thinks back to what you said to him school.

“I think you can,” you sigh, grabbing some aspirin. “You just choose not to.”

“What do you know?” he snaps, blue eyes murderous.

“More than you would think,” you deadpan, lifting his shirt to rest under his pecs. Boy was it hard not to just rip it off completely.

“If you wanted me shirtless you just had to ask sweetheart,” Billy winks and seductively licks his lips. You inhale sharply, trying to ignore the rush of heat you feel throughout your body. Sure he’s hot, bet he’s a manwhore and an asshole. Don’t fall for it. Instead of verbally responding, you push on his ribs without warning and it’s his turn to inhale. “Shit!”

“They don’t feel broken or fractured,” you stare at the splotchy blue and purple bruises forming over his rib cage.

“How would you know?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“I have years of practice,” you hand him the aspirin and wait to talk until he swallowed the tablets. Were you really going to tell him this? “My dad, my birth one, used to toss me around like a rag doll. Carol got lucky, he liked her so he would never hurt her. But when he was mad at something she did he would just take it out on me twice as hard. I had to clean myself up when my mom would shut down, and I’d have to fight through the pain to check to see if anything was broken. One night it was so bad that I was unconscious on our kitchen floor when my mom and Carol got home. That’s the day my mom decided to leave him.”

“How old were you?” Billy’s face a mix of sadness and anger.

“Younger than Carol and Max. We moved around a bit before finally landing in Hawkins,” you’re afraid to look in Billy’s eyes. Afraid to find that pity he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. “I know you have a distaste for the town, I did too when I moved here my freshman year, but it’s the first place we stayed. It’s where my mom met my amazing stepdad, it’s home to some of us.”

“That’s why you offered Max a place to stay when it gets bad,” his voice softens as he stares at the side of your face.

“I had nowhere to go. Carol had nowhere to go,” you sigh. “I couldn’t let Max suffer through the same life we did.”

“I didn’t know,” he reaches forward and rest his fingers on top of yours.

“No one did, you’re the only one,” you pull your fingers away from his to wipe a single tear away. “Carol doesn’t even know, the doctors say she’s blocking out the memories, that it was so painful her brain refuses to remember it.”

“I want to be better,” he refuses to look you in the eye, opting to pick at the corner of your comforter instead.

“And you can be, one step at a time Billy,” you gently place your hand on his shoulder He finally looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It’s why I said you could change, be better. I’m nothing like my father, and I know you're strong enough to be better than yours.”

“Will you help me?” he sounds so vulnerable and defeated. So broken.

“Of course, as long as you’re actually trying.”

Thank you,” he lays down on your bed, pulling the sheets up over him.

“Do you like Saturday Night Live?” you ask as you walk to your door,

“I love it,” he gives you a lopsided smile you’ve never seen before.

“Cool. Get some sleep, and you can join Steve and me when it’s on tonight.”

“Anything for you sweetheart,” he shoots you a lazy wink.

“And Billy? You owe me big time,” you put on a fake scowl as you look into Billy’s tired blue eyes. “You made me miss shirtless Harrison Ford.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. He’s too caught up in the way the bed smells like your floral perfume, and the strawberry shampoo that you use. He takes a deep breath, deeply inhaling your scent, trying to memorize it. To memorize the smell of safety and home. His eyelids grow heavy and he drifts off to sleep, wondering what changing would mean for the two of you.

“Where is he?” Steve immediately jumps up from the couch when you walk back into the living room.

“Upstairs sleeping off some pain meds,” you send hi a warning look. “Now how much did I miss?”

“Harrison is making out with the blonde chick,” Lucas says through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Well that narrows it down,” you laugh lightly.

“They’re giving the stone back to the village,” Carol adds. You let out a long sigh as you realize you missed almost the entire movie. You give Max a small smile, hoping that it conveys to her that Billy is alright.

“When’s Hargrove leaving?” Steve asks annoyed.

“He’s actually gonna watch SNL with us tonight,” you meet Steve’s angry eyes. “He promised to help make french toast in the morning.” That may have been a lie, but Steve doesn't need to know that. But something tells you that you’ll be able to convince him to help.

“So when are we gonna order pizza?” Carol cuts in, wanting to cut the tension.

“In a little,” you promise, as you sit down to enjoy the last few moments of Harrison Ford.

An hour and a half later, when the pizza’s on it’s way, you go upstairs to wake up Billy. “Don’t let me down Billy,” you whisper to his sleeping form as you lean against your door frame.

Part 2: Too much

Forever tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

#dacre montgomery #billy stranger things #billy x you #billy x y/n #billy x reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 2 #stranger things season 3 #stranger things x reader

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