#[-*overlooking a burning city while they both just drink time punch and watch*-]

[goldenraeofsun]

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. ��Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

[jeromesxreader16]

Such A Joker (46)

Part 45 Here!!!

~o0o~

As we arrive in town Jeremiah holds my hand tightly. I lean on his arm smiling up towards him. "You're going to be okay." He nods letting out a shaky breath. "I know. I'm worried about what he will say about you. He will be mad." I nod looking away. "He won't know. I'll be going straight to the roof." His eyes grow sad as he gazes at me. "I won't see you again will I?" I smile at him and rest a hand on his cheek admiring his green eyes. "I don't know, Jer. I hope Jerome is going to be locked up and then we can move on. For the better."

Jeremiah nods placing his hand over my own. "Then this is goodbye, (Y/n)." I sigh look upon the sea of frightened citizens. "Until we meet again, Jeremiah." He grabs me smashing his lips upon mine. As my father pulls him away from me he calls out, "I love you!" I cover my mouth smiling.

I quickly run-up to the roof seeing both Bruce and Jeremiah hooked up to their bombs.

"No parent will admit it, but everyone's got their favorites. Right, brother? The one who cleans their room does their homework, doesn't try to kill everybody. Little Mr. Perfect here. Yeah. He was that guy. He got adopted by rich folks. I went to the top schools, then, a top college. Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day! Do you know how big those things are, folks? But I know something that Mommy and Daddy, they never knew."

Jerome smirks at his brother as he tells their tragic story. "You're as crazy as I am. It's in your DNA. See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer. It's your nature. Stop trying to fight it. You changed (y/n). Pumped lies into her head of sanity. Took her away. I've got a plan for both of you."

Jerome opens a knife and slides it into Jeremiah's hand. "This is your chance, brother. Take your best shot."

Jeremiah screams lunging at his brother. Jerome simply doges it and punches him in the face. Gunfire rings out from the streets below. I lean over watching the chaos and losing sights on Jerome and Jeremiah.

As the panic increases, a blimp glides over the Square. The door to the rooftop burst open and a bleeding Jerome stumbles over to me laughing. "Look at her! Isn't she beautiful?"

Jerome looks to me pulling me to dance with him. "I'm not dumb, doll. I know where you've been." He squeezes my side sharply causing me to flinch. "You've been shot, Jerome." "Aw, what about that." He walks me over near the edge standing up on it and overlooking at his creation.

"Hands up." My father's voice rings out from behind us. Jerome turns around chuckling. He pulls out his phone raising a finger, "Just give me a second. Got to call the pilot. Tell him he's in position." In a split second Jerome's wrist is shot making him drop the phone.

"Not cool." He groans glaring at Jim.

"Jerome..." I state watching him with sad eyes.

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Too late, anyway. Bombs away!" He shouts as another gunshot sounds. I scream as it enters his abdomen.

Jerome looks down at his wound. "Funny." He falls back making me run after him. "No!" My father grabs me as we both view Jerome dangling.

Jerome looks at me and smiles. This is where we end.

"You gonna let me fall and die? Or are you gonna pull me up and arrest me? What's it gonna be? Lawman or murderer?" I reach down but Jerome doesn't reach for me. "Dad... Please."

Jim reaches down but Jerome laughs swatting his hand away and hanging onto the pole with just his hands.

"Ah. Good ol' Gordons. The two of you! Always playing by the rules. That's why I'll outlive you. That's why I'm loved. It's why she loves me! 'cause I don't give a damn about the rules." He chuckles looking at the both of us.

"Jerome, grab my hand." He shakes his head smiling.

"It's a long way down. You sure you'll outlive me?"

"Oh, I'm sure. 'cause I'm more than a man. I'm an idea, a philosophy. And I will live on in the shadows within Gotham's discontent. I'll always be a part of you won't I, (y/n)? Say... Let my bro take care of you." He cackles blowing me a kiss. "You'll be seeing me soon. Au revoir!" Jerome lets go falling to the ground and onto a parked car ending his last seconds in Gotham.

My chest burns as his smile stay wide. His eyes looking up at me. I cry into my father's chest as he holds me. "It's alright, (Y/n). I'm here. I got you."

~

As we get down to the ground people are gathered around Jerome's body. "GCPD. Everybody get back!" Jim yells causing others to thin out.

Only leaving a few including Jeremiah. I walk over pulling on his sleeve. "(Y/n). Oh my god." He wraps his arm around me tightly. "I'm so sorry." I shake my head. "It's okay. He's in peace now."

He looks down at me with puffy eyes. "Can I come home?" I ask quietly. He smiles and cups my cheek nodding. "Of course you can. I wouldn't have you anywhere else."

"Mr. Valeska. Ms. Gordon. I'm sorry for the loss."

"Jeremiah, I meant what I said about your work being of importance to this city. Let Wayne Enterprises fund your work with a grant." Bruce offers with a nod.

"Thank you," Jeremiah says nodding. "We'll be in touch, Bruce."

As we walk away together I can't help but feel light. I look over at Jeremiah looping my arm in his. "Promise me that we will keep each other sane?" Jeremiah kisses my head nodding. "I promise, love."

~

I walk on the cold ground barefoot leading to the office. I knock twice before entering. "You know you need to go to sleep." I sit on the desk smiling at him as he scans his work. "I have slept." I pinch his nose rolling my eyes. "That kind of sleep doesn't count, Mr. Valeska." He shrugs coming around the desk and standing in between my legs.

"Alright. How about we open these and then we go to bed?" He passes me a small ring box with a tag while he holds a wrapped box. "Who are these from?" "Bruce Wayne." I giggle shaking mine. "Must be expensive."

As we tear into our gifts the tension is thick. "Same time?" Jeremiah asks like a child at Christmas. I nod smiling with excitement.

As I open the lid a tube spays me the purple gas. I cough falling on the floor. "Ahh, honey, do you smell that cooking?" Jerome's voice cackles in my mind. "You know how it feels love. It's just like a drug. Let it in. Let it flow. Let us grow." He laughs in my ears as I scream covering my ears.

Jeremiah thrashes around screaming as well. He soon starts to laugh and his smile grows wide. "Jer!" I scream as he falls on the floor.

I start laughing remembering all the things that made my blood-red hot. The screams of the victims I've taken. The wide fearful eyes of citizens.

"You wanted a new life, doll? You've got one! BURN IT DOWN!"

~

~Two Weeks Post Spray~

I sit on the couch keeping myself occupied with my phone as Ecco strolls in, sitting beside me. "Hey girlfriend."

"Hey Ecco! What are you doing here? I'm sure Jereminah gave you the week off." She shrugs smiling. "He did, doesn't mean I can't spend time with you, right? It's been a while since we hung out."

I look at the time seeing it's close to dinner and lock my phone. "You want to grab some drinks?" She nods standing. "It's a date. I'll drive." I laugh putting on my shoes and walking towards the office.

I peek my head in and see Jeremiah reading. "Hello (y/n)." He spills out my name like honey. He looks up smiling at me.

"Hi." I swoon as I walk over to him, resting on his leg. "I'm going to have a girls night with Ecco. Want me to get anything for you?" Jeremiah closes his book and removes his glasses. "You and Ecco?" I nod confused.

"We're good friends, Jer. She's looked after me for a while now." He hums smirking. "Would you rather me stay with you today?" Jeremiah shakes his head laughing. "No darling. Go out and have fun tonight!" He pats my hip standing me up. "Save some fun for me later, doll." He growls in my ear twirling me out the door.

I wink and salute to him. "Yes sir."

~

I laugh slamming my empty shot glass down. "Another!" Ecco shouts ringing us another round of shots.

I lean my head on her shoulder feeling foggy. "This- this is great! I haven't been able to just let go, ya know?" Ecco nods, "You out of everyone I've known deserves to drink." "What do you mean? My life isn't that nuts!" Ecco's eyes widen and she dies in laughter.

"R-really? Are you joking?" "I mean it's unusual, but not nuts! At least I'm happy."

Her eyes fall and she nods. "You're really happy with him?" I nod smiling. "He's great to me." "He's always working." Ecco agues.

"He makes time for me." Ecco scoffs muttering something under her breath. "Huh?" Ecco smiles shaking her head. "What do you say I get you home?" I nod standing and stumbling to the car.

"Heels are never a good idea when I've been drinking! I don't think I can- Whoa!" I trip falling.

Ecco grabs my waist catching me as I giggle drunkly. "You're so waisted!" She cackles leaning me against the car.

She opens the passage door letting me fall into the seat. "Hey Ecco." I whisper pulling her close. "Yes?"

I turn to her smiling, "think you could do me a favor?" She places a hand on my thigh gazing at me. "Anything (y/n)." She leans in awaiting. "Awesome. Can you take my shoes off? They're so far away." I slump back in my seat closing my eyes.

"Sure."

Seconds later my bare feet hit the floor mat and Ecco raised. I open my eyes checking on her, "Ecco, are you-" Her lips press flush against mine and she places her fingers in my hair.

She pulls away breathlessly. "Don't go back to him, (y/n). He doesn't give you enough." I stare at her confused. "You're drunk, Ecco." I giggle pushing her away softly.

She grabs my chin and she pecks my lips lightly. "Okay, (y/n). You're happy and I'll keep it at that." Before I close my eyes she mutters three words I never expected.

She buckles me into the seat, kisses my head, whispers "I love you." Then closes my door starting the long ride home.

~

I sit up groaning and fall back into the silk pillowcase. A sharp giggle causes me to open my eyes seeing Jerome sitting at the edge of the bed. "You got a little frisky last night didn't you?" I tilt my head looking at him. "What do you want?" He crawls up the bed kissing me cheeks.

"How is my dear brother? Any sign of insanity yet? Yours is kicking in nicely, but he's a tough cookie isn't he?" I roll my eyes covering my head with the pillow. "He'll never give into it." Jerome pulls the pillow off my face smiling. "You never used to be this naïve." He sighs rolling off the bed and hitting the floor. "Enjoy the sanity while you still can, doll. Dark days are coming for Gotham." Jerome places a hand on my stomach smiling. "But there is always a spark of light in the dark isn't there?" He giggles, vanishing as he leaves the pressure on my stomach.

I shake my head standing, but as soon as my feet hit the floor a rush of sickness washes over me. I run to the bathroom throwing my insides into the bowl.

Jeremiah rushes in kneeling next to me. "Oh, honey, too much fun last night?" I lean on the wall breathing hard. "It must've been." Jeremiah nods helping me up. "Jim called." "I missed his call?" "No, love, he called me." I smile leaning against the counter.

"For?" "He invited us over for dinner tonight. He said something about starting up the Weekly Gordon Dinner Fest and convinced me it was going to be amazing." "Wow. He's inviting you over. You know what that means? He likes you." Jeremiah shakes his head. "He likes that I keep his daughter safe." I giggle kissing his nose. "Nope. He likes you, Jeremiah. I can feel it."

~

"Do I need to dress fancy or is this purple tie too much?" Jeremiah asks, turning around to face me. "Purple? That's new for you." Jeremiah nods tugging at it and smirking. "It is. Makes me feel fresh. Do you like it, love?" I waltz over to him with his blazer. "You look great." Jeremiah slides his jacket on and wraps his arms around me. "And you... look darling in red."

He swings me around and I laugh leaning into him. As I hold my hand on his chest I notice the skin around his neckline is extremely pale. I pull at the collar looking at the ghostly skin beneath. "Something wrong, doll?" I looked up at him and for a moment his eyes were light as snow. I blink rapidly only to see them a healthy green again. "You're just... pale. More than usual." Jeremiah smiles, shrugging. "I live underground, (y/n). Sunlight isn't my best friend." I nod as he walks us away from our home.

~

"I just can't believe you made this all alone, dad." I laugh as I help set out the spread my father had made for tonight. "I'm not completely helpless." He says picking up a plater. "Here Jim, let me." Jeremiah takes it and sets the food on the table.

My dad nods smiling. "You did good this time, (y/n)." I nod smiling at my favorite men. "Oh, almost forgot!" Jeremiah pulls out a bottle of scotch and passes it to my father. "Can't come without a gift." My father pats Jeremiah's shoulder nodding. "Thank you Jeremiah. Care for a glass?" "Please." Jeremiah chuckles pulling out my chair.

As dinner runs on course everyone smiles and laughs. I gaze at my family with a smile. "Would you look at that?" Jerome strolls out of the kitchen drinking from the bottle of scotch. "That could've been us."

Jerome makes faces at the two of them as he downs his drink. "Just look at you. Such a happy family. Why don't you have a drink to celebrate?" Jerome starts to poor scotch in my glass but looks up at me with a smirk. "Oh wait... that wouldn't be healthy for the little babe, would it? Ah more for me!"

"(Y/n)?" I shake my head looking at my father. "I-I'm sorry. What?" "Are you okay, honey? You look like you're going to be sick." I place my hand on my stomach, but remove it quickly, placing it on the table. "I'm fine, Dad."

~

As I'm drying my hair, Jeremiah walks in the bathroom. "Are you going to tell me what happened at dinner?" I sigh looking at him.

"I think we need to go back two weeks and take a recap. We never talked about it." "About what?" "The spray, Jeremiah! We both got a spray special for us and woke up like nothing happened!" Jeremiah's eyes flash with fear as he looks at me. He trembles moving towards the bed. "I-I thought it was all a dream. I've been seeing him everywhere. I thought maybe it was just a way to cope." He holds his head in his hands.

I sit in front of him removing his hands. "What has he done to you, Jeremiah?" He holds my hands shaking. "I hear everything he says. He's always in the back of my mind just picking away. Putting thoughts in my head. Bad thoughts. It's getting harder to resist, (y/n)."

I took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt revealing his pale chest. I run my fingers over it furrowing my brows. "It started at my legs. I hate to think what it will do when it gets to my face. I'll look horrid." I laugh shaking my head. "No. You'll look just as handsome."

Jeremiah laughs, grabbing my hands again. "And you?" I smile and sigh. "Just like all of your work was reversed. I can't even force him out of my mind now. He's just mocking me about everything. How happy we are. How Jim likes you."

Jeremiah holds me in his arms as I run my fingers over his ghostly skin. "No matter where this takes us we stay together." "Always, Jeremiah."

~

I gasp sitting up in bed. "You got about 1 minute." "Until what?" Jerome leans on his hands smirking at me. Suddenly a rush of sickness strikes me causing me to invade the bathroom once more.

Jerome laughs strolling in. "If it's a boy can you name him after his daddy? Jerome Valeska the second! Has a good ring don't you think?" "Y-you're not the father." Jerome smirks backing away. "You sure about that? I bet he'll even have my eyes!"

I wipe my mouth and crawl back in bed. He's not that father. I'm not pregnant at all.

"Or for a girl we could go for-" "SHUT UP!" I scream throwing a pillow at the figure.

[nazyalenskyism]

Let’s Get Married 3

Let’s Get Married Part 3 (Let’s Get Married)

Summary: Guess who got married! A/N: PLEASE READ: From this point on, anything labeled as "THEN,"/"18 months ago" refers to the week during which Chapter 2 (I've Been So Far Gone Lately) is set during. Anything labeled as "NOW" or "18 months later" is set in the present day. Sorry for any confusion!

Ao3: Let's Get Married Part 3

18 months later (NOW):

David Kostyk came back from his break like always, with a mug of tea from his wife in one hand and a stack of files from Nikolai in the other, ready to dive into the documents for the day. The first few files were standard, he was signing off on others’ work, making sure everything was up to date and properly formatted but it was when he hit the fifth document that he found something amiss. He pushed his glasses up his nose, bending down to make sure that he read the file correctly. No, that couldn’t be. That would mean that--Oh no.

David picked up his receiver, punching in numbers he knew by heart, this was going to be anything but a quiet morning like he’d hoped. “Genya, you need to see this.”

                                                            ***

“Nikolai Lantsov!” he glanced up at the mention of his name, surprised at the sight before him. Genya marched into the room with Tolya and Tamar walking determinedly behind her while David trailed behind them, clutching a stack of papers in his hands. Nikolai glanced at his watch, it was only 11 AM, they didn’t have their daily meeting until 2 PM, that was odd.

He raised a brow, easing back in his chair, “can I help you?”

“What’s this?” Genya exclaimed without any preamble, grabbing a paper off the top of the stack in David’s hands and slapping it onto his desk.

“Paper, I assume, darling Genya.”

“I mean what’s on the paper,” she snapped, “it says you’re married.”

Nikolai paused, drawing the paper towards him, “you were at the wedding,” he glanced around, “you all were. In fact, you were the only people there.”

“You were supposed to get divorced,” Tolya interjected, “that was the plan.”

“Plans change.”

“Nikolai, you were supposed to be married for six months, a year at most.” Tamar frowned.

“It’s just been more beneficial than we’d originally thought.”

“What?” Genya asked, scowling at him.

“Well, we realized it would be better for our taxes, for one.” he ticked off a finger with each additional reason he gave. “People don’t ask for our numbers when we go out anymore and my parents and brother hate both of us so they leave us alone. One glare from Zoya and deals are signed in record time, I don’t have to suffer through terrible parties alone anymore, and Zoya has to be nice to me,” he furrowed his brow, “well sometimes. Actually not nicer but--”

“What are you going to do now?” David interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

Tamar spoke up, “you can’t keep this lie up forever, someone is going to find out, it’s amazing they haven’t already.”

“Yes,” Genya nodded, “what if you meet someone, and want to get married? What are you going to do then? Or what if someone asks you why you don’t live together or why your prenup with Zoya is basically giving her 50% anyways?”

“We’ve been too busy,” Nikolai said dismissively.

“Busy? She spends half her evenings hanging out at your apartment or with us. Even if that wasn’t the case, Nikolai, you always make time for important things.”

“It’s not important at the moment.” He understood their confusion, he had been surprised at first too when Zoya hadn’t asked him to call things off three seconds after they had officially gotten married and secured the company as his. In fact, she hadn’t brought it up at all. Not once in a year and a half and neither had he. It felt like they’d struck some sort of perfect balance, and the last thing he wanted was to destroy their peace. No, when Zoya wants to end this, I’ll agree, but until then I won't be the one to ruin this.

“It is important!” Genya looked as if she wanted to shake some sense into him, which was odd, usually only Zoya had that look on her face. Speaking of Zoya, it had been a minute since he’d spoken to her, not since he’d brought her coffee to her office this morning, all the way on the other side of the floor. He should send her a text about dinner tonight, he had found a fantastic restaurant whose specialty was her favourite dish and wanted to take her. He pulled his phone out of his waistcoat pocket, smiling as he typed a message he knew would make her roll her eyes, chuckling at her response.

“Hey!” Genya snapped her fingers in front of his face, startling him from his texting. “Nikolai, if you don’t think this is an important thing to do at the moment, what do you think it means that you like spending time with her, that you trust her with all your secrets? How you don’t care about what anyone else has to say about you, everyone but Zoya? The rare time she compliments you, you light up like a Christmas tree! Not only that but…” Genya trailed off, twisting her wedding band around her finger, glancing around at her friends for a reprieve, but they were all avoiding her imploring gaze.

“But?” Nikolai prompted. He could feel his ears burning, but he wouldn’t allow his friends to see how Genya’s words had impacted him.

“You know what,” she sighed. “Nikolai, you know why you don’t want to change things and it’s the same reason she doesn’t want to change things either. Both of you want this and there’s a reason why, a reason that would make you both a lot happier than you are now.”

Nikolai stood abruptly, he’d had enough. “As always, your advice is appreciated but unneeded. Now if you’ll excuse me I have an appointment and before that, as per the request of my friends,” he gestured to them, “I need to start filing for divorce.”

                                                               ***

18 months ago (THEN):

“I found something,” Nikolai whispered, sliding up behind Zoya and gently touching her arm before slipping a drink into her hand. In the ballroom behind them the party was in full swing but out here on the terrace overlooking the gardens there was barely a buzz. They’d moved outside because they hadn’t wanted their conversation to be overheard by someone at the party. If anyone found out what they were planning on doing they would be in big trouble, to say the least. She arched a brow, and took a sip of her drink and he took it as an indication to speak. “There’s a clause in the bylaws that states that someone other than the intended heir of the company can inherit it if they challenge the intended heir, get a majority of votes from the board, and are over thirty.”

“Nikolai, you’re nowhere near thirty, there’s no way you’re going to be able to stop Vasily from getting his greasy hands all over your company.”

He shot her a bemused look, “my company?”

“You know what I mean,” she snapped. “That can’t be all you found, keep talking.”

“Well,” he began slowly, “the only way we get around that is, there’s a clause that says you have to be thirty or married.” A deafening silence stretched out between them, both trying to gauge the others’ reaction. Zoya spoke first, surprisingly.

“So, when’s the wedding? What should I get you, cash or something off the registry?”

“Nazyalensky, I didn’t say that I was going to get married.”

“Come on,” she said, looking up at him, “this is your life’s goal. If you don’t secure the company now, then your brother or that old creep Aleksander will take what’s rightfully yours.” Her finger jabbed at his chest, her eyes alight with passion. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that she believed in him. “You are the only person who can and should be running it. It’s yours Lantsov, it always has been.”

Nikolai felt a kernel of warmth unfurling in his chest as Zoya whipped away from him and back towards the skyline, the faintest blush colouring the tops of her cheeks. Open admissions of friendship always made her ill. Nikolai drew in a breath, preparing to be eviscerated for what he was going to say next. “Would you?”

She squinted at him, “would I what?”

“Would you marry me? Hypothetically. If you were an eligible bachelorette in the city?” Zoya cut him a quick glare, “hypothetically, yes. Anyone would be stupid not to.”

“And do you consider yourself smart?” he said.

“Nikolai…” she faltered, “don’t.”

“Don’t what? It makes sense, doesn’t it? We already know each other, we don’t have to draw up an extravagant prenup, I’ll gladly give you half of what I have, we can get divorced a week after we get the company, and go on with life as usual.”

Zoya shook her head at him, “and what will people say when you and your ex-wife are working side by side every day, with no bad blood? And getting divorced a week later, that makes it so obvious that you only did it for the company.”

“Fine,” he said simply. “If you can tolerate me for a couple of months, we can stage some big fight and break things off. We’ll say that we were young and in love and made a stupid decision.”

Her hand went to the chain around her neck, rubbing the locket absently. “I don’t think this is a good idea Nikolai.”

“Nazyalensky,” he stepped closer to her, “we’re running out of time and I don’t think I have any other options. I wish there was another way but if this is the only way, I will do it, but I would rather it be with someone I trust. And hey, it’s only six months, then we’ll be back to how we always were.”

Nikolai waited for a minute, then two, then what felt like forever before she finally spoke. “Okay.” She turned towards him, “okay, but no big wedding. Just us, the officiant, Genya, David, Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and my family. Just the ten of us.”

He took her hand, “what about all my friends?”

“What friends,” she scoffed.

Nikolai pouted, “harsh.”

“Honest.”

He laughed at that, pulling out the small box that had been sitting against his chest all night. He popped it open before flipping it towards her, cherishing the faint flicker of disbelief on her face as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He knew what she was thinking; it was huge and sparkly, the two things she liked most.

“You idiot,” she slapped his chest, “you knew about this already, why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“I wanted to have the ring ready,” he protested, admiring the excitement painted onto her exquisite features as she admired the glimmering ring in the moonlight. “I didn’t think you’d agree unless I had it.”

“You’re right, I was just feeling extreme amounts of pity towards you tonight, otherwise, even your desperation wouldn’t have been enough. ”

“Ruthless,” Nikolai smiled, “now, shall we tell the others?”

Zoya took his outstretched arm, “let’s.”

“Ah, ah.” Nikolai chided, “it would be a little obvious if we stepped out of the party to get engaged, no?”

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, slipping the ring off her finger, and reluctantly placing it back in the box. “You’re right, it clashes with my outfit tonight anyways. But I’d like it back as soon as possible.”

“Let me finish putting a little something together. We should at least be able to have a little fun with it.”

“Alright,” she sighed, “but no public proposal.”

“No public proposal,” he agreed, “just us. Like always.”

                                                        ***

18 months later (NOW):

“What is it, Genya?” Zoya sighed, stepping around a tourist glued to the center of the sidewalk, her phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she gripped the box of baklava against her chest. Nikolai always got peckish in the afternoon and the sweet was his favourite snack and if she’d learned anything in life it was that a well-fed Nikolai was a more productive Nikolai.

“Care to tell me why you’re still married?”

“Hm?” She eyed the window display of the boutique behind her, while waiting for the streetlight. Nikolai would love that sweater and the blue would bring out the gold in his eyes.

“Hey!” Genya snapped at her, “why didn’t you tell us that you’re still married?”

“Should I have?”

“Yes? Obviously yes!”

“Okay,” Zoya said, not seeing the issue, “so now you know.”

“You were supposed to get divorced a year ago, why are you still married?”

She sighed, it was so simple, how did no one else get it? “It was better for our taxes, people don’t ask for our numbers when we go out anymore, Nikolai’s family leaves us alone. It makes it easier to deal with all the stuff from when Liliyana--” she broke off, clearing her throat, “it makes business deals go smoother, we can bail each other out of stuff. It just makes things easier.”

“What if you meet someone and want to get married, or even date them? Or what if Nikolai does?” Zoya frowned, turning away from the boutique door she’d been about to open, crossing the street instead. She hadn’t thought about that before. Nikolai was a romantic, she’d seen it in action, and while he’d never been in a long-term relationship in the time she’d known him, he had been on dates where he’d gone all out. What if he was even slightly interested in someone and pushed aside the prospect of a relationship with them because he felt that he owed her something? She didn’t want that.

“I know. It’s just-- we’ve been busy.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“We’ll get around to it, we will.”

Genya seemed to pick up the weariness of her voice and simply said, “I know you will,” before hanging up.

Zoya slumped into her car, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. When did things get so complicated? He’d asked Zoya to help him because it was supposed to be uncomplicated when it was her. When had she let herself fall into this so badly that she genuinely questioned her ability to extract herself from it?

Her phone chimed and she saw that her last conversation with Nikolai had been deleted from their message history, the one where they’d been making dinner plans. Instead she saw a new message under their conversation from last night simply reading, “we need to talk. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

Zoya exhaled through her nose, punching out, “Okay.” in response before tossing her phone into the backseat. It was ridiculous to think that anything about this arrangement had ever been easy. The night that Nikolai’s parents had thrown them an engagement party had been proof enough of that.

[echo-bleu]

Vacation

Alex and Michael are on vacation in Paris. This is pure, self-indulgent fluff.

For @acomebackstory, whose prompt was "Malex on vacation in France. Michael keeps attempting to speak bad french with a terrible accent and all the locals hate him and Alex is giving everyone apologetic looks"

This went a little off prompt, but I hope you like it! Every single location and random fact mentioned is real :)

Read on AO3

"First real day of vacation,” Michael says, stretching in the huge hotel bed.

Alex props himself up on his elbow and smiles. “You excited?”

“Yeah! Paris, baby!”

Michael punches the air, and they both laugh. “It's gonna be amazing,” Michael says more quietly.

“You've ever been on vacation before?”

Michael bites his lip. “Not really. Never had someone to go with, or jobs I could take time off from. I took the Airstream out to a couple of places overnight back when I first got it, but that's it. Yesterday was my first time flying.”

Alex feels a little sad at that. He'd pieced it together, from Michael's anxiousness over this vacation and what he's told him about his life in Roswell over the last decade, but it's another thing to hear it confirmed.

“What about you?” Michael asks.

“I've been stationed in different places, and I usually went to explore if I got a chance,” Alex answers. “Mostly on my own, sometimes with the guys from the base, but I've never done something like this.”

“You mean going on a vacation as a couple?”

“Well, yeah, but also picking a place and deciding to go there just to have fun.”

Neither of them asks if they went on vacation as a child. They have something of a tacit agreement not to bring up their childhoods for no good reason, though they've spent many hours talking about the things they've been through. There's just no point ruining their fun by bringing up bad memories.

“So what's the plan for today?” Michael asks. “You said we wouldn't go see the Eiffel Tower until the last day, what are we doing until then?”

“Don't worry, there's plenty of other things to do in Paris. I thought we walk around here, maybe go see Notre-Dame?”

“Didn't it burn down?”

“Only the roof. It's closed to the public, but it's mostly interesting from the outside anyway.”

“How do you know all this? You've been here before?”

“No,” Alex shakes his head, sitting up. “I just did my homework. I like having a plan. You want the shower first?”

“Nah, you take it so you can do your PT while I shower.”

“Thanks.”

Alex is quick as always in the shower, a lifetime of military showers only slowed down a little by the need to sit down. Thankfully, he made sure that the hotel room was accessible before he booked it. By the time he's done, Michael is ready to take his place, and he's even pushed away the armchair to make space for Alex's slim PT mat.

They go down to breakfast half an hour later. The hotel restaurant is lively but not too noisy, and their table is in a corner. They're immediately served croissants and a choice of drinks.

Alex sweetly thanks the waitress in French and she smiles back, answering in kind.

“How do you speak French so well?” Michael asks.

“I told you, I was based in Tunisia for a while,” Alex answers, turning back to him.

“And you learned all the languages of the places you were in? Wait, don't Tunisian speak Arabic?”

“And French. Tunisia was a French colony. I had enough high school French to get by, and my Arabic was really bad, so I took Arabic classes in French.”

“Why would you even do that?” Michael grumbles. “You're such a nerd.”

“That's why you love me,” Alex snorts.

“Who says that's why? I may be secretly hoping to siphon the nerd out of you.”

Alex shakes his head. “You're just as much a nerd as I am. Why do you think I've planned for us to go the Palais de la Découverte tomorrow? They have a huge space exhibition and a conference on exoplanets.”

Michael throws up his arms. “Okay, you've got me. Exoplanets, really?”

“Yeah. I doubt there's going to be anything on telekinetic aliens, but I thought it worth checking out anyway.”

“You're amazing.”

Michael leans in to kiss him, but Alex pulls back, laughing. “Hey, you have a mouthful of croissant!”

“What? They're so good!”

Alex takes one crutch with him when they leave the hotel. He's going to need the support if they're on their feet all day, and he can only pray that his leg with hold up to the end of the week. Michael stops by the front desk in the lobby and butchers some French at the receptionist, grabbing a few pamphlets.

“So,” he starts when they're both standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel. “Where to?” He unfolds one of the pamphlets, which turns out to be a map. “Notre Dame is...there, and we're…can you help me out here?”

Alex watches him with amusement. “Are you actually using a paper map? Who even does that anymore?”

“I do,” Michael says sullenly, struggling to refold the map.

Alex pulls out his phone and brings up Google Maps. “We need to go in this direction,” he points.

Paris, or at least its center, turns out to be a real maze, though. After only a few minutes, they realize that they've been going in the wrong direction, and nothing is making sense, despite the blue dot on Alex's phone supposed to tell them where they are.

“Shit,” Alex beats himself up. “I'm supposed to be trained in this.”

“Not everything is enemy territory,” Michael shrugs. “How about we ask someone?”

Alex bites his lip. He's not quite ready to admit that stopping someone in the streets to ask for directions features in some of his nightmares−it's so stupid. It's a simple thing, yet he can't bring himself to do it.

“Pardon, ici c'est le rue Moon-gee?” Michael loudly asks a woman passing them before he can make a decision. (Sorry, here it is the Moon-gee street?)

The woman looks bewildered and Alex groans, dipping his head in embarrassment.

“Excusez-nous,” he says, summoning his courage. It's easier once the first contact has been made. “Nous cherchons Notre-Dame.” (Excuse us, we're looking for Notre-Dame)

“Descendez la rue jusqu'au bout, et vous la verrez sur la droite,” the woman answers without hesitation. (Go down the street to the end, and you'll see in on your right)

“Merci beaucoup,” Alex smiles at her. (Thank you very much)

“What did I do wrong?” Michael asks.

“It's pronounced 'Monj',” Alex says.

“But why? That doesn't make sense,” Michael complains.

“French spelling actually makes a lot more sense than English once you learn the rules.”

“That can't be true. All those letters that aren't even pronounced?”

Alex shrugs. “Believe what you will,” he smirks.

“Are you making fun of me?”

Alex goes to answer with something flippant, but there's an edge to Michael's voice that wasn't there before. “I'm not,” he says honestly. “I admire that you're bold enough to speak French even though you don't know much of the language. I really do. And there's nothing wrong with a paper map.”

Michael deflates. “I just...I want to get the full experience, you know?”

“I get that,” Alex says. “So do I.” Timidly, he holds his hand out to Michael.

“You think we can do that here?” Michael asks.

“There are so many tourists around, no one is paying attention,” Alex insists.

Michael grabs his hand and holds onto it tightly.

“Just relax. Enjoy the moment.”

“I love you,” Michael says in his ear.

Alex squeezes his hand with a smile.

Notre-Dame's parvis is packed with tourists, so Alex and Michael just take a few moments to admire the huge front, then decide to tour the island it stands on. Behind the front towers, the whole roof is missing, and the stones seem to be held up by scaffolding and no little amount of luck.

They walk hand in hand on the riverside, soaking in the spring sun. The tip of the island, where the two arms of the river meet, has a weeping willow overlooking the water, and they sit for a while on a bench under it. They're even daring enough to kiss.

Alex starts feeling his leg pull after walking for a couple of hours, despite their frequent breaks and the crutch. He tries not to feel guilty about slowing them down, and instead takes them to a small café on the other side of the bridge.

He lets Michael order them coffee in French, only speaking up to provide him with the vocabulary he's missing. The café's little patio overlooks the Seine and it feels a little like paradise, sitting in the sun together, admiring Notre Dame's towers and Paris's architecture from afar. They end up staying for lunch as well.

“We can go get ice cream for desert, I saw that the place that supposedly has the best in Paris is not far from here,” Alex offers.

“Ice cream sounds good, but I want to try crêpes as well,” Michael says.

“We have a week, we can try whatever you want. Did you know crêpes can make up a full meal too? Breton restaurants make buckwheat crêpes that are stuffed with just about anything you want.”

“Okay, then we have to try that.”

The ice creams, from a tiny place on the twin island, are amazing. Alex and Michael lick at their cones while ambling along, playfully stealing each other's ice cream.

They walk a little further along the river, finding barges that actually seem to be lived in, and then a park with blooming flowers at the water level. They end up in the Jardin des Plantes, admiring the color-themed flowerbed and the rare trees, the flora as different from the New Mexico desert as it can be.

Michael steals Alex's phone and looks up every plant they come across.

“I didn't know you liked plants so much,” Alex tells him.

“Not many to geek about in the desert. I've always been curious, but I've never seen so many species in one place before. Or that much green, really.”

“I'll have to take you out more often,” Alex laughs, thinking of the landscapes and forest of Oregon and northern California where he was stationed.

“Did you know there was another river flowing under here once?” Michael reads from the phone. “The...Bee-ye-ver?”

“Bièvre,” Alex corrects, looking over his shoulder. “Almost.”

“Whatever. It was buried under the city because it became too dirty. Seems like a strange idea. Oh, they have a mineralogy exhibition!”

“You mean like stones?”

“Yes! Can we go?”

Michael is giddy with excitement, almost jumping up and down. Alex laughs and nods. How can he say no to that face?

The exhibition turns out to be fairly small, but beautiful, made up of crystals and gems of all sizes. Alex finds Michael staring at large meteorite fragments.

“It's stupid, but I feel a sort of kinship with them,” he explains. “Not like we came from the same place, but there aren't a lot of stuff on Earth that came directly from space.”

“No, I get it. It's like…going to a foreign country where no one speaks English, and running into an Australian?”

Michael laughs. “You know, I actually have no idea if that metaphor is good or not. This is the first time I've been out of the US, beside, you know, before the crash.”

“Right. Definitely have to take you out more.”

“I'll hold you to that. Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

Alex frowns uncomprehendingly at the sudden change of subject. “Why?”

“Your limp is getting worse. It might be time to call it a day, no?”

Alex sighs. “I feel like we've barely done anything.”

“Alex, it's been an  amazing  day. I mean it. But I really don't want it to end with you in pain.”

“Okay,” Alex nods, biting his lip. “Yes, I probably need to rest my leg. Maybe we can go back out for a walk after dinner, or at least find a nice place to eat.”

“Sure. Hey, taking care of you is also part of this vacation, and it's something I'm going to enjoy, okay? You're not taking anything from me, or whatever you're thinking.”

“I know,” Alex sighs as Michael pulls him closer. “I still need some adjusting, I guess.”

Michael puts an arm around him. “Then we'll adjust together.”

“I love you,” Alex murmurs into the hug. He doesn't say it often, and he feels Michael squeeze him tighter. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I couldn't be happier to be right here with you.”

[peter-parkourwrites]

Heartbreak Summer 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes broke your heart two years ago. Now, after settling down finally in college with your group of old and new friends, he ́s transferred into your school, and maybe back into your heart.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drinking, slight pining from everyone’s favorite tin-man, slight thor x reader, jealous Bucky, swearing

A/N: TAG LIST IS OPEN!! Am I really starting a new series before my last one is finished? Yes. Don’t worry tho SFF will be uploaded soon. I just had this idea and I’m extremely excited about it.

Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading loves, I hope you guys like it!

*Gif not mine, credit to owner*

series masterlist

Bucky watches with a small frown as you turn away from him, Thor’s arm wrapped delicately around your waist. That used to be him. He wonders if he should punch Steve, or thank him for not telling him you’d be there. And by his assumptions, you hadn’t known he’d be there either. With how stiff and quiet you suddenly got. Bucky grimaces as Thor reaches out to help you into his truck, ever the gentlemen. Bucky used to be that for you, he used to be the one to surprise you with flowers, kiss your knuckles when taking you home after a date, and opening doors for you no matter how far away he was from you. Bucky would launch himself over counters if it meant you didn’t have to open a damn door. 

It’s not fair. 

He thinks as Steve drags him over to his own car, followed by Sam as Tony, Nat and Wanda cram into the back of Thor's truck behind you. 

Should he strangle Steve or Thor first? 

It’s a tough draw. Bucky knows why Steve didn’t tell him you were going to be there. It was his first week back from his adventures in Europe abroad, and he had only wished he never left you. If Steve had told him you were there, he wouldn’t have come. The last time you two spoke wasn’t exactly… great.

“I don’t know why you think you have to do this.” You hissed staring up at him with angry eyes filled with tears. His heart cracked at the fact that they weren’t the usual bright doe eyes he’d get to look into every morning. He didn’t want to fight with you, he wanted to hold you and tell you everything would be okay. 

But he chose the only option he could, at the time anyway.

“I have to do this (Y/N)! It’s a full year abroad to study and train under professionals!” Bucky was shouting now, something he had only done one other time when his sister was in that car accident years ago. She was better now but that night sent him in a downward spiral. 

“What about us?!” You cried, voice shaking with anger and sadness, Bucky couldn’t really decipher which pained him the most. 

“Us?! Us? This is a huge opportunity and you’re asking me to turn it down for some dumb childhood dream you had for us?!”

“No Bucky that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to promise me we’ll be okay, and you won’t!” You hissed, your voice wavering as you looked anywhere but him.

“You know I can't do that (Y/N).”

“WHY NOT! Y-y-you s-said you’d always be here…” Your voice trailed off, and that one sentence would linger in his mind for the next two years. 

“I can’t promise you I’ll still be the man you love when I come back doll.”

“NO! D-don’t call me that… y-you don’t get the right anymore.”

“Look… I’m sorry but I need to do this… I won’t let you sit here and suffer for the next two years while I’m away. Live your life, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“So? I-I can go with you! I-I’m sure they have better nursing programs in Europe-”

“I won’t ask you to leave everything you love behind for... For me. I won’t let you do that. If you go with me I-I’ll” He let out a long sigh, and his fists clenched at his side, the next words he said hurt him to even say but the look on your face as he said them made him sick. “I’ll leave you…” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as your body went stiff. Clearing your throat you nodded and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I won’t be here waiting when you get back. I refuse to do that to myself. I won’t let you break my heart like that James.”

James. That hurt. In all your years of knowing him, you’d never called him that. He swore his heart shattered at that.  So with a short nod, Bucky took careful, but long strides towards you in case you decided to bolt from him. When you didn’t, a small tear slipped down his cheek. Pulling you into his arms he pressed you flush against his chest, taking a deep breath. Lavender and fresh linens. You always smelt like that in the spring. And Bucky would miss it so much more than he knew. 

“I love you ya know.” He murmured against your hair. He felt your fists grasp tightly at his dark shirt, knowing it would be stained with tears. When you didn’t say it back, he knew that was his cue to leave. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you and bent down to place a small kiss to your forehead. But you stopped him? That never happened. But then again, he did just break your heart. 

Letting out a small sigh, he opened his eyes and looked down at you.

“Y-you’re leaving… just go please.” You whispered the sorrow in your voice was evident. With a nod he walked to the door of your apartment and walked out, closing the door with a small click behind him. 

~

Bucky followed Steve into the pizza restaurant. His eyes met the back of your head as you let out a cheerful laugh, his heart lurching in his chest. God, he missed that sound. The pure bliss from hearing that every morning was sorely missed when he slept alone in his small apartment in London. 

You sat there so happy and in pure bliss, a stark contrast from the last time he had seen you. Bucky slinks through the crowd, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets to hide his shaking hands. Nerves fluttered in his stomach with every step he took closer towards your ethereal form. His eyes are trained on you, and you alone. Thor has a hand on your lower back, that makes him scowl, shooting daggers at the back of the blondes head. Steve nudges Bucky’s side with his elbow as the group turns around to face them. Bucky's eyes quickly pull away from your form, looking at everything else but you. And that's when he fully regrets coming out tonight.

 The small pizza place has since expanded and added a simple bar. Dark wooden tables are scattered around, with tall stools adorning dark blue cushions with some rips on them. There are small floral arrangements at either end of the bar counter, courtesy of Elaine, one of the owners you all knew. 

The pizza side hadn’t changed one bit since high school. Same squeaky metal tables and chairs. Same beige linoleum flooring with those gross brown stains on a few tiles - that no one really knows what they’re from. - Your sat at the usual table you all hogged every Friday night after highschool. A corner booth, with added chairs to fit everyone, overlooking the bustling city. You sat by the window, having a chat with Wanda, who was across from you, Tony occasionally chiming in with his sassy remarks. 

The scene is so… bittersweet to him. It reminds him of those simple nights before college, when he didn’t know he’d be leaving for two years. Your first date was here. Your first kiss, right outside under some silly mistletoe that had been put up around Christmas. 

~

“Come on doll, one slice!” Bucky begged, his hand keeping a steady grip on yours, as he pulled you through the crowd of people on the streets. Fresh snow was falling around you, covering the gross brown slush that lined the sidewalks, giving the city a softer look to it. 

“Babe it’s cold!” You hissed, as a sudden rush of cold air flew at your face. Impeccable timing. Bucky turned to look back at you with a large grin. Your nose and cheeks were red, being nipped at from frost, your hair was stuck to your face as flakes continued to land against it. 

“I know, but once we're in there we can have some hot chocolate and warm up.”

“Hot chocolate and pizza? That sounds like a stomach ache waiting to happen Buck.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it doll!” Bucky called as he continued to brush past people through the busy streets of New York. 

After walking a few blocks from his apartment, you found yourselves standing underneath the doorway, a line beginning to form. You groaned, burying your face between his arm and side to try and block the cold from biting at your face even more. A soft chuckle left Bucky's lips as he glanced up noticing the small green plant. 

“Babydoll.” He whispered in your ear, tapping your side. You shook your head against his chest and he snickered before pulling your shoulders back. When you were about to protest he pointed up at it. Your face started burning, suddenly washing away any remnants of the cold weather. 

His arm curled slowly around your waist, his blue eyes examining every detail of your face. Almost like if he looked away he'd forget everything he just saw. 

Raising a brow, as if asking for permission, he waited for any indication that you didn't want this, hoping and praying it wouldn't come. When he peeked his own eyes opened, he saw your doe eyes looking up at him through your lashes with a bashful glance, he swore his heart stopped. You nodded your head at him, slowly and without wasting another second, he pulled your waist against his, tilting his head to the side and leaning down his lips found yours. 

Your very first kiss and he was ecstatic. Words couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling as his hand cupped your cheek, cradling your face delicately in his palm. Suddenly it was no longer cold, and all he could feel was heat pulsing through his veins. He waited for years to kiss you, and at the age of seventeen, here he was finally kissing the girl of his dreams. Your lips melted together in a dance-like fashion, it wasn’t sloppy or rushed. It was slow and calm. Both of you take a minute to relish in each other's warmth. You broke first, needing air and all he could do was give you a big grin. Your eyes met his again and he leaned forward, placing one last short peck to your lips before pulling you along behind him into the pizza place. 

~

As Bucky carefully sits at the end of the table with Steve, everything is stiff and quiet. He feels like an outsider, no… he is an outsider. He concludes as you all make inside jokes he has no remembrance of. 

You all look different from those highschool seniors he drove away from. Wanda's hair is no longer pulled back into a flimsy ponytail like it always was. She knows how to style it now, with large bouncy curls that rest on her shoulders. Natasha's hair was no longer blonde, or red. It was a simple mix of both, Bucky made a note to mention it. 

Sam was ́beefier ́ As younger Bucky would have put it. Sure he had muscles in high school but they weren't exactly… evened out with the rest of his body. However, now his biceps actually filled out those stupid muscle shirts he insisted on wearing all year round. He seemed a lot more snarky than normal too, but now being more touchy with everyone. He was never one for a lot of physical contact, and it was nice to see him actually giving out hugs, or letting Wanda grab his arm while she jumped around excitedly. 

Tony was still short, almost as short as you… if that was possible, well no matter your height, you'd always be shorter than Bucky and Steve. The one thing that didn't change about Tony was his spunk. He was the same sassy prick who had the best sense of style. And a pure genius, Bucky could only dream of having his smarts, and quick-witted remarks. 

Clint was still an asshole, and just as crazy as before, if not more so. From just the short time back together again, he could tell Clint was still a troublemaker. 

And then, there was you. Your hair was longer than when he last saw you. You had finally switched over from those baggy shirts with cheesy puns on them to blouses that showed off your curves. Bucky swore it made his heart lurch, he only hoped it was for yourself, and no one else. He still had at least one of those silly shirts in his drawers back home, considering you always forgot them. 

The one thing that didn’t change was your face, sure you had matured but the way you lit up when someone started talking about a topic you loved, your eyes got wide, and there was that same sparkle in your eyes that you used to look at him with. Your lips were plump and pink, covered in glittery lipgloss, or that damn strawberry chapstick he loved so much when you were younger. 

“So, how was London?” Natasha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and now the entire tables attention was focused on him. Clearing his throat, Bucky pulled a pizza from the platter and placed it on his plate.

“It was okay, it’s hard when you don’t know anyone there. Sure I made friends but damn if I didn’t want to come home.” He said with a small nervous chuckle.

“I bet you missed the team,” Sam said, nudging his side with a grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Duh, but I bet you guys missed me a hell of a lot more. I mean how many loses have you had since I’ve been gone?” 

“Too many,” Steve added with an exaggerated sigh as he bit into his slice. Bucky rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own, his eyes scanning the faces of those around him. They met yours for a second, and you had a curious look etched on your features. But he didn’t look long enough to ask, because those damn (y/e/c) eyes would have had him melting all over again. After an hour and a half of chatting, falling into old routines, and copious amounts of pizza, everyone was ready to head home. 

You slid out of the seat and took Wanda's hand as she helped pull you up. 

“I think I ate double my weight in cheese and bread.” You groaned, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Come on then, you need some tea and your bed.” She said her voice like velvet on your ears. You nodded against her before standing up on your own again. Stretching out your arms you let out a loud yawn and walked over to where everyone was waiting outside. 

“Well this has been fun, but I am exhausted and Netflix is calling my name.” You said patting Wanda’s shoulder and grinning at the rest of the group. Nat chuckled and looped an arm through yours. 

“When is it not.” The red-head teased as she nudged you slightly. 

“Hey Shameless season nine just got added and you bet your ass I am going to watch all of it in one sitting.” You hissed and did your best attempt to intimidate her with a glare. She just shook her head and waved goodbye to the group. 

“I’ve already watched it, it’s… alright.” Bucky's voice cut through you like a knife. You grimaced and shook your head. 

“Wrong, it’s going to be great.” You said, newly found confidence creating an edge to your words. Bucky cleared his throat and shrugged. 

“Eh could have been better, but whatever floats your boat doll.” You visibly tensed at the last words. You hadn’t heard that word from his lips in years, let alone anyone’s. It was so characteristically Bucky that if you heard it from anyone else you’d probably throw up. 

“You’ll see James it’s going to be an amazing season.” You finished with a small grumble and walked off with Nat and Wanda, not even bothering to say anything to the rest of the group. 

“I don’t get why he has to push my buttons like that?! I mean it's been two years and he thinks he can show up all over again and act like he didn’t leave me for some trashy whores in the red-light district!” You panted, face growing hot with anger as Wanda and Nat sat patiently on the couch. 

“Hon I don’t think he-”

“And you know what else! I bet he knew I was coming and showed up anyway just to spite me! Try and win me back, or make me jealous! Well, you know what? It’s not going to work this time, nope nope I refuse to let him back in for the second time. I mean what on earth does that fucker think he’s doing? I mean my sorry ass is still in love with him, and he thinks he can just waltz back in here looking hot in that stupid leather jacket I bought him, and-and just, do that?!” Nat let out a strangled sigh and handed you her glass of water she had been nursing since you started the rant half an hour ago. Exhausted from yelling, you flopped down against the couch cushions, Wanda reaching over and running her fingers through your hair to calm you down. 

“I hate him.” You muttered, bringing the glass up to your lips and taking a long sip. 

“You just said you loved him,” Nat said, standing up and moving towards the fridge for a glass of red wine. Being as classy as she was, ever since you had all tried it one night at one of Tony’s parties, she lived for the drink. 

Although she only brought it out during emergencies. Apparently, this was an emergency. Which, to you yeah of course it was. Bucky had just left. After that night in your apartment, you hadn’t heard from or seen him in two years. Sure there were those small moments of panic when you would like a photo he posted on Instagram. If you didn’t have a heart attack then? Well, you were sure you were having one now. 

“I know that.” You hissed and moved to sit up, Wanda letting out a small huff as she pulled her hands away from the braid she had started. “I just… he left me. He left us and now he thinks he can show up again like nothing happened?”

“Maybe he’s not even here for you,” Wanda added in as Natasha handed you the glass, halfway filled with the red liquid. At Wanda's comment, you swore you were going to throw up from the feeling. Ever since he had gone away, you always felt… empty. Some part of your heart, he had surely taken with him. 

You felt that way for a while, three months to be exact, until school started up again and you dove into your studies, promising to yourself that the rest of your college career would not be wasted on some stupid fantasy, with a dumb, stupidly handsome, idiot of a guy. But Bucky was more than that to you, he always would be. He was there when your mother got sick when you got into that car accident when you first got your license. He was there when you won the state championships for soccer in high school. Every damn thing. And yet, you hadn’t felt that gut, no soul-wrenching feeling since. But things change. The past creeps up on you, and you have no way of knowing how to handle it. 

“I’m going to bed…” You muttered, pulling yourself from the comfort of the couch, to move to your lonely bed. As the girls said a quick goodnight, you grunted in response, to busy focusing on how the hell you would be able to sleep, and how on earth to get Bucky out of your thoughts.

----

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[liloelsagranger]

Viridian Love Story - Chapter 4: You’re my only fear, my only desire (Rocketshipping)

My dear friends, chapter four is online! Enjoy! Rocketshipping ahead.

@ndbern-rocketmonsters @ndbernarts @jessicarocket @estrelarabyss @prepareforetrouble @masterstarpikachu @tothestarsabove @teamrocketfanart @thelovelyjessie @webelieveinlovepower @chaosandhope @james-team-rocket @danadiversity @krazy-holly @keksrocket @harmonyrocketeeveon @pok3ship @yesjanii @thecomputergirl @elysiiandream @fugly-chan @batfamfan1 @ghostkitty @pikamofo @eclipsing-dreams @abatwc @emily1037 @texansman20 @inuyashaeienni @zayphantomslayer Chapter 4: You’re my only fear, my only desire

Jessie decided to condone their small contretemps and recharge her batteries. Fully loaded with boxes, she balanced the crates into the big hall where James and Meowth were already waiting for her. James hastened to her aid, placing the boxes on the floor. “What a color explosion! Nothing fits! Gold, turquoise, rosé…are you planning on a complete disaster?!” the Pokémon-cat wrinkled his nose. Jessie shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “Amateurs! These colors are perfectly coordinated with each other!” She reached for a cheesy garland with glittering pom-poms. “Are you just gonna watch me do this or what?” Jessie flashed her eyes at James, challenging him. He swallowed hard and set to work. Their teammate had already worked out a perfect decoration plan. Like a general, she rushed James and Meowth back and forth, gave them instructions and rebuked their mishaps. She was completely in her element and revenge is generally known to be sweet.

Together they decorated the whole hall with tinsel and balloons and set up the photo booth to provide a lot of fun and distraction. Now and then, Jessie and James would unintentionally come closer. He secured the ladder while Jessie hung streamers on the chandeliers; they reorganized the seating areas, her hand almost imperceptibly grazing his arm, and they checked the loudspeakers to offer an unforgettable musical treat for the ears. “Does it work?” Jessie stood next to her friend, monitoring his technical skills closely. He smiled at her, pressing the play-button. Soft tones of a long forgotten melody reached her ears. Jessie bobbed to the music, secretly shedding a tear of longing. It was their song, vivid and brimming with energy. A mixture of foxtrot and sad blues notes. “Would you like to dance, Jess?” James took her hand, leading her to the middle of the hall. ‘It means nothing. He’s just polite and wants to swing his dancing leg. Don’t flatter yourself, girl!’ Nonetheless, she followed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. After so many years, they were still a well-rehearsed dancing couple. One moment, James would whirl her around, the next he would pull her very close. She snuggled up to his chest, inhaling the herbal scent of his perfume. Secret fantasies ventured back to the surface, but Jessie had to get those thoughts off her mind. She swallowed the bitter disappointment like a pro. “I think we should prepare the punch,” Jessie broke away from his embrace, disappearing into the school canteen to fetch fruits and juice. “Nice try,” Meowth jumped onto the table, placing a paw on James’ shoulder. “You’ll never get her that way! Let’s be honest, it takes more than a little dance to confess your secret feelings,” he said, clearly noticing the chagrin in James’ eyes. ‘Softy!’ the Team Rocket member rebuked himself, ‘you’ll never win her heart back!’, but he had to keep trying, tiny steps by tiniest steps, to show her how much she meant to him. Jessie turned back with boxes full of exotic fruits like pineapples, mangos, dragonfruits, kiwis and papayas. The trio sliced the fruits into small bites, carefully mixing the ingredients by adding juice, cane sugar and a dash of honey. James poured a sip into their shot glass, tasting the sweet drink Jessie had created. “Delicious, Jess! You outdid yourself with that recipe!” he winked at his best friend, causing her to blush. To underline his esteem, he licked his lips and gave himself another glass. After mopping the floor and cleaning up the rest of the decoration, the trio decided it was time for a reward. From Team Rocket they had received the necessary small change for a hilarious evening among friends. “I need a few minutes to change. How about a visit to the all you can eat buffet in the city centre? I’m starving,” Jessie scurried off, leaving Meowth and a lovelorn James back in the hall. James rebuked himself once more for his cautious and reserved behavior, but his scars were still burning underneath his uniform and the fear of loss of control and subservience seethed like fire in his body. Could he get involved in a romance? Could a leopard change his spots? He wanted her so much, he longed for her nearness, but the horror was deep and with it the fear of another firm relationship and true feelings.

Half an hour later, James and Meowth were waiting for Jessie to leave her dorm. She was dressed in a light blue shirt with matching shorts. “Let’s go,” she and James linked arms and the trio set off to fill their bellies.

The restaurant was crowded and booked up to the last seat, but the waitress put Jessie, James and Meowth at a tiny free table. They squeezed themselves onto the chairs and took a look at the menu. “35 Poké-Dollars per person! Ridiculous! I hope their food is good, let’s dig in”, Jessie jumped up, almost wiping their sodas off the table and lined up at the buffet. As always, Team Rocket exaggerated. They piled up chicken wings and saithe on their plates, indulged in juicy roasts and a lavish selection of delicious cakes. One bottle of wine after another was uncorked, until they showed first signs of light drunkenness. All night, James couldn’t take his eyes off Jessie. Her laughter excited him. He would have preferred to bend over the table, cup her face and kiss her fervently, but instead he squatted there like a coward, smiling at her like an idiot.

“Watch out, Jess”, it was late at night, when the duo made their way back to the campus. Jessie kept stumbling over the paving stones, James, himself extremely drunk, had trouble supporting her. They laughed and bawled lightheartedly. Meowth had already said goodbye, only Jessie and James were left. “I hope our plan doesn’t go down the drain. This is our last chance to prove Giovanni our criminal talent,” Jessie voiced concerns. “Why does such a beautiful young lady think such gloomy thoughts?” James turned to her, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stop it, James. We both know you’re not being serious. You drank way too much,” Jessie broke away from his firm grip. “You’re right, I did. Let me accompany you to your room, okay?” she nodded her head, lacing her fingers with his. A tiredness overpowered her, but there was another feeling she could not classify. “Good night, Jessie. Take care,” James held her door open. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day. We still need to instruct the grunts,” he stopped in the door for a moment. He could gather up the courage to walk up to her and kiss her tenderly, but it was impossible, he was held back by the past. “Good night,” she whispered, closed the door and sighed unmistakably.

James made his way to his own bedroom and regretted any opportunity he hadn’t used for a kiss. He clenched his hands to fists. “That’s enough, you scaredy-cat! Pull yourself together,” he had made a decision.

Determined to put his cards on the table, he ran back to Jessie’s bedroom, wildly pounding at the door. “Jess! Jess!” She opened the door a crack wide. “James, what a…” Jessie didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Before she could withdraw, his arms were around her. Jessie felt helpless and completely taken by surprise at first. James looked at her, his gaze full of longing. His breath went fast, he was aroused and eventually ready to take the next step. Without warning, he pressed his lips on hers. They merged into a tender kiss. She could feel his hands around her waist, the firm grip as he gently pushed her against the door. James was insistent, his hands wandering underneath her shirt. Flimsy touches made her groan with pleasure, evoking from her unknown sensations. She ran her fingers through his hair, cupping his face while putting all her pent-up feelings into the next kiss. They kissed each other with passion, over and over again, as if they had to make up for every missed opportunity in the past. James stopped for a moment, his face was so close to her, she could feel the first happy wave of exhaustion. “What are you doing, James?” Completely out of breath, but still in her senses, she wanted to confront him. It felt too good to be true. Would appearance deceive again? “I think,” he took a deep breath, “I think, I’m falling in love with you, Jess.” “Blame it on the alcohol,” she said, but James shook his head. “No, Jessie, not this time...” that was the decisive sentence. Something she had wanted to hear for so long. James cupped her face, both smiling and unburdened. “Jessie,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry it took me so long. Let me make it up to you, darling,” he carried Jessie to her bed. Slowly and carefully, he dropped her back. Her head lay on the pillows and for the first time in his life, James experienced the desire to love a woman with all his heart. She was so beautiful, her lips red like roses, her eyes of shiny sapphire. How had he overlooked this for years? Her beauty was not of this world. Her skin as bright as porcelain, all his poetic acquirement intertwined in thoughts of his best friend, his muse and faithful companion. Slowly and very gently, he tilted his head, kissed her and thus sealed the silent agreement of tender ties. To be continued...

[extravagantliar]

“May I have this dance?”

may i have this dance // meme cache // @makerbound​​​ | @cllgood​​

This is not a Kirkwall party.

( well it is — but it is poorly done, poorly managed, for the Maker’s sake there isn’t even one man drunk in the antechamber singing the many praises of Hawke ). 

It’s some, sick perversion of Bran’s, and possibly Aveline’s — he hasn’t thought that far ahead. For the guest are mostly gentry, and even he ( Varric, the man whom they were celebrating, for it was his birthday after all! ) is subjected to wearing the Crown of Thorns and coat that fits far too well, and a dress shirt that covers up far too much. This wasn’t what he had wanted, not in the slightest, when he had requested something small — he had expected cards with Aveline and some of her men, perhaps Dorian coming in for a week ( if not a night or two ), or even a drink down at The Hanged Man. 

Not all of Kirkwall’s gentry in high regalia — and Sebastian tucked against a rotunda with someone who made him smile ( good for him, good for Starkhaven ).

 Yet, this was not what he ever wanted. The hushed voices, men and women who believe to be better fit to do his job offering him halfhearted congratulations on his existence, and part of him wanted to snap at the next person that wished him well, wishing to cite that the woman they should have been thanking rested in a copper plated urn on his mantle. 

He hates his birthday, anyway.

“Bran.” It’s hissed into the ear of one of his most trusted statesmen and watches as the man visibly recoils ( before using his free hand to straighten his banners — for it seemed even Bran was partaking in the good mead tonight ) before offering the Viscount his undivided attention. “There is not nearly enough sawdust on the floor.”

Bran is easy to mark, it’s interesting to watch him think. For his glass is switched between his free hands and teeth dig into his lip for a split second, he’s so meticulous and careful with his words. It’s admirable, but also infuriating, for this was not what they had ever agreed upon. “Sir —- I do know that this isn’t The Hanged Man.” He snorts, and Bran shoots him an incredulous look as if he’s murdered his eldest son — and dark green eyes behind glasses widen in almost disgust before the seneschal sighs resigning to his position. It’s as if he has to continue to remind himself that Varric abhors all to do with the gentry and always will. “I thought we discussed this, sir — that next week Magister Pavus, Lady Helia and a few others will be meeting you at the southern dock and I will begrudgingly assume Head of State for a few days.”

Begrudgingly — meaning they’ve already fought at length about this, and he’s forgotten it, placed this date aside for something else more important ( like the budget for the University – or the Lowtown Restoration Project ), something that has to do with the actual projects that need his attention. “I believe you told me this was a State Dinner — and I see Chantry Bo —-” 

“His Serene Highness, Prince Sebastian Vael, sir.” It’s a substantial correction that he heeds no warning. 

“Chantry Boy — and the square from Markham.”

That cause Bran to turn and glare down at his Viscount, earning the seneschal a smirk that he would consider fulsome. “That is the honourable Lord Astley, the Head of the Council of Markham, many of these guests have come quite a distance to see you and wish you well in your next year. Some have even sent their congratulations in lieu of being here – like the Beaufort family, House Cousland, and even Mademoiselle Clarel, Duchess of Val Chevin sent tribute.” Bran lives for things like this, casting the wide net to extend the reach of Kirkwall — and usually, Varric is more than happy to play along. 

But this is not a party.

Titles don’t mean much, Astley was never one to help the people of Kirkwall when they were starving in the streets, at least Sebastian had the sense to keep his fingers on the pulse of the people for him during his bout with the Inquisition. “Doesn’t change the fact that Astley is as dull as unpolished sunstone.” A glass of mead is offered, and he happily takes it, twirling the flute betwixt thumb and forefinger. “Alright, tell me what I need to know, but Dorian’s here for two weeks, and I believe Aveline has new recruits all those days.”

“We agreed on ten days with Captain Vallen.”

“Well,” The crown is easy to pluck from his temples and pass towards his waiting seneschal, “You can explain to Lord Atlee…”

“Astley! Astley! Astley! Varric! For the Maker’s sake, fine! It’s like negotiating with my ten-year-old grandson! You’re nearly fifty for Andraste’s sake, Varric.” 

He’s forty-seven, actually. 

The crown is pushed back into Varric’s waiting hands, and while he is loathed to drive his feet into the dirt so childlike sometimes it’s the only thing that breaks through Bran’s iron exterior ( plus, he can only get away with this one for two reasons — one being, Dorian and Varric would have done it regardless and the second being it was, in fact, his birthday ). “Two weeks with Baron Pavus sans Guard Captain Vallen, just don’t destroy Lowtown.” 

“You have my word, Bran.” He passes the glass of mead to Bran as the crown is adjusted and slipped back over his head, nestling on his temples ( it covers the new grey that has appeared, there is much more than before ). “Now, who is here and what do I need to do.” 

“Besides Prince Sebastian and Lord Astley, there is Lady Lucille Trevelyan, an extended member of the Trevelyan family, I believe she’s a title holder, however, I am not privy to how she is styled. Lord Barnard is here as well from Tantervale, most likely here to recount his glory days defending the Free Marches — of course, none of these people simply hold on to your meagre attention, Sir.” Scathing, but well deserved, plenty of remarks almost dare to boil over in response to the insult of his “exiguous” attention, which it was when it came to parties such as these — where he just wanted more sawdust on the floor. 

“Anyone else, Merrill? Hawke? The Inquisitor?” It’s a stretch, for any of these. Isabela is out facing the open water, Fenris would never ( not even for all the wine at the party ), and there were others he would never dream of having them step foot in the rotunda of the Viscount’s Estate. 

Bran signs, defeated. “You know as well as I do that Serah Hawke would rather face any nightmare of their choosing rather than being here. Merrill declined, citing that she would, and I quote: ‘see you on Thursday’, and the Inquisitor is in Val Royeaux.” There’s a pause, a smirk that Varric catches, over the glass of mead and it stops him for a second. The fidgeting falls to the wayside. “There is one other, a noble from Nevarra — House Pentaghast should be arriving next hour.” 

There — the ace that Bran had held onto. Their work together, through these last few years, had left a decent impression on the both of them — information and punches would be pulled to make the other party bend to their will in this game and this morsel, this gem of information is what keeps him going through the stories and the helloes, the congratulations, and gift giving of far too beautiful things that he has no need for. It’s enough, it’s more than enough to be able to make it through the self-serving sycophants and their lecherous families. For she is worth all of this and more, Cassandra Pentaghast — once a foe and later a friend in arms ( for they had fought to get to this place, this place of letters and pressed flowers, where he adored her and wrote her biweekly merely to allow her some glimpse into his life ).

She’s worth this hell.

Alas, he makes it through — charming and dancing with those who demand his attention for idle chatter or to make an ally, hoping to get a kind word from the esteemed Viscount and the House of Tethras. It’s tiring, and he’s eager for a reprieve, for something other than this, and with his impeccable behaviour, it’s easy to alert Bran that he’s taking a moment ( pipe in hand, flint in waistband, and glasses pressed to the inside of his breast pocket ) alone on the veranda, to overlook the city and her waters, to leave the gentry and the music behind for a few moments. The fresh air is welcoming — the last bit of summer finally fading away as the crisp fall air takes hold of Kirkwall, turning her foliage a spray of colours and keeping the night skies alight and bright until the winter storms move from the south. 

Flints spark and fire comes to life on the end of a match — a vice he hasn’t had in years puffing to life for a few moments ( a guilty pleasure he partakes in, once every three or four years ). Smoke curls and rises, finding the home in the elaborate rafters of his home. The orchestra carries on, strumming up some new fast tempo — and he’s happy here, relieved.

“Varric.” That melody is sweet, sweet enough for him to turn tapping his pipe out on the veranda and coughing at the same time. They’re too old for romantic anyways, she knows his vices by now — she knows his weaknesses, and his proclivities. “Bran said you would be out here, but I wasn’t aware that you were smoking.” 

Cassandra.

The old oak pipe is left of the stone, free hand covering his mouth as his lungs protest, hating the smoke as her disapproval sinks in for a moment. “It’s a non-issue.” It’s coughed though, apparently his body protesting as much as she almost seemed to be. Lungs burn for a moment, and he leaves the pipe behind, the smoke behind and basking in her for a moment — the true surprise ( and he’s not entirely sure how Bran pulled that off without one of Varric’s many spies catching wind or how Cassandra was able to keep this secret from him ). “Hello, Cassandra. You look —” Radiant, stunning, resplendent  — she is matchless in this sea of people, a glittering gem in road amour rather than a ballgown or a suit, of course, he’d be fine with either. 

She tisks at him, something reminiscent of their time on the road  “I’m dirty Varric, and underdressed, so save your words. Bran did not inform me that this was going to be a —-”

“An affair?” He closes the gap between them, perhaps he’s a bit too eager to, perhaps he’s dumbstruck, and that is why Bran kept all of this under wraps ( to keep him from keeping his head in the clouds ). “He informed me tonight was a State Dinner, it was nothing of the sort — I’ve made it through.” Road weariness ekes from her, and part of him doesn’t wish to ask her to change, to be subjected to this when she’s made the effort to come all this way, from only Maker knows where. 

“You know,” He takes her hand, thumb drawing lazy circles over the back of it, “You don’t have to do this, my apartment is unlocked still. If you’re lucky, Lena is still around and could draw you a bath, sit by the fire, and wait for all of them to leave — even Aveline and Bran.” A pause, not only with words but with the long, languorous circles and in its stead, he pulls the palm of her hand to his lips, something gentle, something just for the both of them. She lingers for a moment, long enough that he knows she’s considering all of it, plus or minus a glass of wine and a book ( and for a moment he considers kicking everyone out now ). 

There’s a groan elicited from her lips, moving past and stirring something in him, and a carnal part of him ( a younger part, a part where he can sweep her up the forty-something stairs ) almost declares the party over then. “I promised Bran, I would try and make an appearance.” 

“Fuck Bran. This isn’t even a real Kirkwall party.” She’s tired, and so is he. They do too much, along with this. But, there is no place he would rather be than here, in this moment. Flyaway is brushed aside, an excuse to hold her — to cup at her cheek. That earns him a smile, something soft ( something he never dreamed of seeing, this wildly romantic and compassionate side ). Hands slide past, rather finding home behind her head, nestled in her windswept and wind musted up-do. “I’ve done my rounds, we can go upstairs and sleep.” Just sleep — there would be plenty of time for anything else, but he was fond of the few days where he got to wake next to her when the light was just right, and they were just people for a few hours. 

“Yes, I noticed the lack of drunkards on the way in, I was impressed.” The band slows, he can hear the piano slow and the strings following suit. They’ve never fit together, they’re both callous and bloodied, worn from their respective pasts and put their work before each other, but they fit. It’s not perfect, they’ve had to make amends, to apologise, to write letters upon letters explaining everything that this means, to chose to continue on. Her hands find him, amongst the song and the nightlife. “May I have this dance?” She’s not given him a choice, for she’s pressed herself against him, dirty road wear against one of his finest suits ( and he loves it, he loves everything about it ). 

“I don’t know the steps to this one.” A paltry admittance, hands pressed against the small of her back as they rock back and forth, taking the occasional step in time with the notes. They’ve always made their own path, beat to their own drum, why would this be any different. Selfless people giving up too much, but for a few moments they get to be selfish, they get to make their own steps, he gets to kiss her and hold onto her. For a moment it’s just them, their fingers entwined as they take their rounds around the veranda ( he spins her, and he swears she laughs — for a moment this is their life, and for a moment he craves this more than anything. For a moment there is a small house, it’s just them. She has her work, and he has a quill — there are roses, and rings on gold chains, but it’s only for a moment ). 

He no longer cares that there is not enough sawdust on the floor. They’re bumping noses, lips pressed together as they come to a halt to drink in these moments. This makes every conversation worth it, every ingenious person grappling for his favour and every forced smile is worth it. She’s worth it. 

Everything stops, the music fades away, but they’re still together. They’re still locked together and hands drifting until she groans and pushes him off her. “I told you I’m filthy.”

“Yes, you are.” It comes across more lewd than it should be, accompanied by him running his hands up her vambraces and pulling at the leather. 

“Varric!”

 He waves it off, his hands leaving her vambraces entirely, “Sorry. But — this is not the worst I’ve ever seen you, nor does it come close to how dirty I’ve been.” She swats at him and misses. It’s playful and brings a smile to his features as he settles next to her. “Remind me to take you to a real Kirkwall party.”

“No.” It’s stern, but it’s also punctuated with her armour being forced into his arms ( bits and pieces of it being stacked slowly, and if he wasn’t so tired — other ideas would have been forming ). 

“How about I draw you that bath instead of Lena.”

“Mh. I’d like that.”

“Maybe I’ll even read to you, filthily.” It’s more of a promise rather than a threat.

She laughs and tugs her breastplate free. This is what he wants. She is what he wants – all of these gentle moments, the way her eyes crinkle as she laughs and how it’s a genuine laugh at his rancourous behaviour ( even though once he swore he told her that he, Varric Tethras, was the paragon of being well behaved — now she really knows he’s full of shit ). Kirkwall needs him now, and she is more than able to stand without him, but one day — one day they won’t have to do this.

One day soon.

A hand is offered, she takes it

A kiss pressed to the back of his hand, and like schoolchildren, they dodge the gentry ( mostly Bran ), moving through darkened halls and stealing a bottle of wine or two and he pockets a sweet treat for her — and even pulls one of the maids to the side, letting her know he’s not to be disturbed for any reason. 

Then, they are both gone, lost to something else — to steam and poetry, a bottle of wine. To clean linens and soft kisses. 

Perhaps, his birthday isn’t that bad after all.

[sleepersimagination]

Take me home

Request: Hi would you be interested in making an Andy imagine where he saves a girl from being hurt in a bar and they end up going back to his place to have smutty sex? Can Andy also have a good dominant side?

Masterlist Request? Click here. Hope you enjoy!! :) (I might change the gif with this idk

Check out my other Andy smut Ride me

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    “Come on, Dance! ”  Audrey shouted, I was in complete awe when I had walked in.  She had told me about this highly-anticipated new nightclub that has a  separate bar that had opened downtown. It seemed interesting, and I love going to new places so I figured why not.   Everyone was excited to see it for themselves since not much happened in this town. We had waited in line for nearly an hour but it was worth it. The music was loud and the beats were pounding in my chest. There were flashing strobe lights hanging from the ceiling, creating weird and overlapping patterns on the wall and floor;  illuminating the people below. Some balloons were even pinned to the walls while others let loose on the crowd who was tossing it around.

I nodded, “Yea, I’ll be there in a second, just let me get a drink first”. Audrey pressed her lips together but nodded.

I squeezed past the dozens of people between me and the bar, finally making it to the counter. All the seats had been taken. Because of the large crowd, It took a few minutes for the bartender to notice me.

   I could barely hear her over the music and voices, but I could make out what she was saying. I didn’t have a preference for any particular drink and I could barely see the menu overhead. I also wanted to enjoy the night for as long as I could, so that meant nothing heavy.

  ‘Something light” I shouted, questioning whether or not she could hear me. But she smiled and nodded; turning around to begin making whatever she had in mind.

    Suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking through the riot of a large crowd. Everyone stopped their dancing and turned their attention towards the bar, but not at me. They all were watching something else. Before I could register what it was I was pushed and I stumbled backward, trying to grab something but to no avail. I hit the floor and finally saw what had shoved me to the floor.

  Two large men, one on top of the other, yelling and throwing punches at the man beneath him. They were right in front of me, so close my foot was grazing the shoulders of the man on the ground.  My arms felt weak and I couldn’t move as if a weight was over me preventing me from getting to safety. A second guy appeared from the side, pulling one of the men to their feet roughly. Almost tearing the guy's collar, he shoved him in the counter pulling back and pushing him even harder. My eyes began to burn from the flash of everybody's phones trying to record.

2 more men piled on and the violence turned into one large blur. I could hear my own heartbeat over the boom of the crowd, thumping in my head. The only thing i knew at the moment was I needed to get out of the line of fire.

 All of a sudden I hear the unmistakable sound of a snap and one of the men stumbled before he lost his balance and began to fell. I was directly in his path. I tried to scurry away but there were too many people surrounding me, there was no space to move back. I braced myself and shut my eyes.

Suddenly I was hoisted up, and I heard the thud of the man hit the floor. Exactly where I was. If I hadn’t moved, I surely would’ve been crushed.  I straightened my legs, still feeling the grip of a pair of sturdy arms, holding me up.  I turned around, immediately meeting a pair of sharp blue eyes.

My breath caught in my throat as I fully saw his face. My thoughts paused. I couldn’t hear the commotion going on around me. It no longer mattered, this man saved me from being crushed.

“Are you okay?” he smiled, the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I saw the twinkle of his lip ring in the light. He had a tussle of hair over his forehead shadowing his face.

“Yea” I breathed, “I’m fine”. HIs hands squeezed my arms, making sure I could stand, before letting go. It was then I realized I didn’t want him to let go, but for him to keep holding me.

“You sure?” I know I probably looked like a deer caught in headlights.  The situation still had me surprised.  I couldn’t help but laugh in embarrassment and nod.

“I’m okay” The beautiful stranger loosened his grip on my arms before fully letting go.”Thank you” My voice trailed off, I didn’t know his name to even properly thank him.

“Andy” he spoke up “No problem at all, can’t have a girl like you hurt in a dangerous place like this” I could hear his deep voice over the crowd. We were only a hairsbreadth apart. His face was only an inch from mine. My cheeks inflamed and my breath caught in my throat.

For a few seconds, I couldn't find my words. But I was finally able to speak. “What do you mean girl like me, I could've gotten up”

   He smirked and raised an eyebrow “sure” he spoke, drawing out the word. “ I didn't mean anything bad by it” he stepped closer, I had to look higher up to meet his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes that were now somehow even brighter now that he was standing in front of me. I could feel the heat from his body as his chest grazed mine. “A girl like you so” he drew out his words, taking a breath before exhaling and speaking. His voice an even lower timbre than before. “So beautiful”.  

The music was drowned out as I grinned, I felt his hand creep up and rest on the curve of my back. Pulling me flush against him,  his head dipped down and he kissed me. His lips were full and so soft.  He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and licked at the seam of my lips. His lips molded against mine I didn’t fight with him. His kiss was so controlling and I submit, letting him hold me down. Every second that continued my arousal heightened. I crossed my legs, attempting to stifle it and gain any type of friction, it only lasted a few seconds before andy inserted his knee between mine, I whimpered at the loss of contact.

He pulled away settling his lips near my ear, sending shivers down my spine and to my toes.     “I’m taking you home” his tone didn’t sound like a question. He didn’t sound like he was asking, the kiss was his question and I had already said yes. I realized I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.  

 “Okay” My voice was no louder than a hush, my breath had been taken and my lips felt swollen. I wanted him to soothe the ache between my legs.

       Andy lips turned up into a seducing smile. He kissed me one last time before grabbing my hand and leading me out.

  Andy lived within walking distance of the bar, in a really nice apartment that overlooked the city. But all that left my mind as soon as I entered and was abruptly pushed against the wall, my chest pressed against it.  The lights weren’t turned on I could only hear our breaths. My adrenaline was rushing through my body and at the moment all i needed was his touch.

  My knees felt weak, i didn’t think I could hold myself up. Andys lip came close to my ear and he spoke. “I got you, baby, don’t make a sound”. His voice rough.

 He lifted up my dress, his fingers crawling down to reach my most sensitive area, the air cooling my wetness. His fingers grazed me until he finally pushed them inside. My body tensed before i relaxed I couldn’t hold in my moans as his fingers filled me. He curled them against the spot that caused me to jump up against him and arch my back.

 “Shhh” Andy growled “I said no noise, or I’ll stop”.  His fingers began pumping more intensely while the pad of his thumb circled my clit, faster and faster until I was panting. I bit my lip to prevent any sound from coming out. If he stopped I have no doubt I’d melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I’m going to make you come, baby, real hard.” his voice was strained as if he was holding back.  

  I heard the metal of a belt buckled and the sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he completely pulled down my dress, I stepped out of it and turned around. I was fully exposed to him. I reached up, tracing his lips with my thumb, lightly going over his lip ring. I couldn’t see him at all, just with the faint light coming from the window.  Suddenly his eyes turned dark and his voice was raspy. ‘I want you, right fucking now”.

His eyes glanced down at my lips before he kissed me, he reached down grabbing my thighs and hoisting me up.  Automatically I wrapped my legs around his waist tightly.  Walking me over to his couch, he let me down. Keeping one knee on the couch, he lifted his shirt over his head. We were not both naked and all hands, touching and exploring.

Suddenly he grabbed one of my hands, forcing them above my head. With the other he reached down and placed my hand over his erection. As soon as it made contact I heard his breath catch in his throat. I began moving my hand up and down, it was so intriguing watching him and knowing it was me. Andys eyes shut and he was swearing harsh words under his breath. I worked my hand faster until I felt him jerk. He suddenly pulled my hand away, joining it with the one stapled above my head.

“No, If i’m going to cum, it’s going to be inside you”  I was ready. I needed him inside me more than I needed anything else. Andy lined himself with his hand, and in one long thrust, he was inside of me. He groaned as he pushed his way into my tightness. Our groans meshed together while he was stretching and filling me. I thought I was going to fall apart.

“Fuck” Andy cursed, thrusting back inside me. I felt myself clenched around him. Every time he pulled out, he rubbed against that spot inside that made me see stars before thrusting roughly back in. I was already on edge from his fingers, it didn’t take long for the pressure to build back up and for me to feel like i was about to fall. I  felt as if I shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Look at me,” Andy ordered, his voice deep and raspy as if he was trying to hold onto his last bit of control. I was too lost to pay any attention to what he was saying. “Look at me!” he repeated. This time he emphasized each word with a thrust of his hips. I lazily opened my eyes.

“Don’t look away” he said holding my gaze as his cock twitched. He groaned as he came inside of me, spilling his wet warmth inside. The ragged sounds of our breathing filled the room. Andy pressed his face into the crook of my neck. His arms gave out as he collapsed over me. I felt him smile.

“Don’t leave” he breathed.

“I wasn’t going to” I replied. Letting my eyes drift close.

[hopesoldcomicblog]

For the love of God shut up-(Dick Grayson x reader)

A.N. Dick slowly begins to fall for the new, elusive and sacarstic vigilante in Bludhaven who seems to have no problem with killing. Hilarity ensues. (Y/n)-your name (Y/v/n)- your vigilante name Enjoy!!!

* *

You were sitting on a rooftop overlooking Bludhaven, the lights of the sitting reflected on the waterfront bringing a sense of warmth to the dark and dirty city. You looked towards the docks, you had been waiting for a shipment to Come through all week and an anonymous source had tipped you off that it was coming tonight. So instead of being a normal collage student partying with your friends like literally everyone else was doing on a Friday night you had donned your vigilante costume, loaded your guns and set out on a stake out. Your (e/c) eyes peered through binoculars as you waited in silence for the boat to dock. Your heard a series of silent footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to be able tell who it was. “You need to work on your stealth. I heard your footsteps from the second you landed on the rooftop.” “And a good evening to you to miss (y/v/n).” Your theory was confirmed when your heard his voice. Great, Nightwing had decided to crash your quiet night of stake out. “I assume you’re her for Falcone’s new shipment too. I’ve been here all night and there hasn’t been anything so far.” You stated coldly. You didn’t need him to be here, you could do fine on your own. You had taken down bigger and badder people in the span of your career you didn’t need to babysat by someone who disapproved of your methods. “Hey no need to be harsh, pal.” His voice curled around that word and you could see the award winning smile forming. You turned your head and continued watching the docks and you watched the boat roll in. You sighed happily. Finally some action, you lept off the building and began your way to the docks, hiding in the shadows. A series of footsteps mimicked yours, he was following you. great. You made it to the docks quickly, ignoring your shadow that was practically radiating justice that was twirling around behind you. You waited in the shadows keeping an eye on who was there and what the shipment was. A silence fell between the two of you as you waited. Your (h/c) fluttered in the small breeze of Bludhaven waterfront. There wasn’t much space between the two of you, you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He pressed closer you rolled your eyes behind your mask and continued to wait in your new hiding spot. A few minutes passed and Falcone emerged from the inside of a luxury car that had just driven up. You took this moment as your chance to jump. You pulled out one of your guns, clicked the safety off and took aim. Shortly before firing you were tackled to the ground causing you to miss your target and hit the wall behind Falcone giving yourself away. Nightwing pinned you to the ground and wrestled the gun from your hands as Falcone’s men shot at the two of you. “Nice one Dickhead you gave away our cover.” You said as pushed him off of you and took cover behind a storage container. You could hear Falcone getting away. “(Y/v/n)-” he reached his hand out in order to help you up. You pushed it away and stood up yourself. “Because of you Falcone got away. Because of you I might have missed my chance to actually bring that fucking bastard to justice. Fuck you nightwing. Fuck you.” You screamed as you jabbed your finger at his chest. He stared back at you intently. “(Y/n) listen.” He explained calmly. He had called you by your real name, not your vigilante name. “What did you call me?” You stared back at the man who apparently knew your secret identity. “How do you know my name?” You demanded quietly back turned away from him. “I’m a detective. It’s what I do, but anyway (y/n), I mean (y/v/n) you can’t just kill people for the sake of bringing them to justice. Some of these people are sick and some of them need treatmen-” “Some of them are who deserve to burn in hell for all eternity. I’m just helping in getting them there.” You said coldly as you pulled sprinted away leaving nightwing alone at the docks shivering in the cold winter air of Bludhven.

*

After the Falcone incident you didn’t see Nightwing for a few weeks. Bludhaven had been slow, well slow for Bludhaven. You had decided to spend the night in, Nightwing could handle it if it was worse than just a few muggings and petty crimes. Resigning yourself to your couch alongside take out and Netflix. You ate your takeout and petted your cocker spaniel in a delightful amount of peaceful silence. And then your silence was shattered. “Hey (y/f/n), nice place you got yourself here.” You shrieked. You grabbed the closest weapon (in this case it was a dinner knife) spun on your heels. Your fear and shock was replaced by mild anger and well deserved annoyance as you realized who it was. “Did daddy never teach you about knocking or did he forget to teach you manors while you beat in henchmen’s skulls?"You sigh. You see the smirk that at this point should probably be copy righted form."so I assume you came here to talk about a case and not to just break into my apartment, terrify my dog and annoy me to the point where I’m seriously considering stabbing a dinner knife through that mask of yours.” You put a hand on your hips and awaited a serious answer. You got laughter. You frowned in response, you picked up your plate and put it away in your kitchen. “I came to talk about Falcone. He’s on the move again, I think I’ve tracked him down to the west side. He’s dealing a new type of drug. Calling it poison apple.” He explained. You snickered at the corny name.“I know, real creative right? Anyway as I was saying. I assume that’s what he was doing down at the docks a couple weeks ago.” You listened as he explained, glaring at the traitor that is your dog as she sniffs up Nightwing’s spandex covered leg. “Thanks for the info Nightwing. I can handle it from here.” “I’m not telling you this so you can bring Valcone to justice.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m telling you because I think we should team Up. You have a better understanding of how that area of Bludhaven works and I’ve got a plan that can bring him to justice.” “So do I. It’s called a gun.” You throw back, you can practically see him grimace. “Anyway pretty boy I think I’ll be fine without you. Thanks for the info, now kindly get the fuck out of my apartment. ” “Wait, (y/n) hear me out. He’ll kill you if you go after him tonight.” He speaks, his voice almost full of something close to worry. “Thanks for the concern Boy Wonder, but I think I’ll be fine. Plus we both know you don’t want to ‘team up’ with me for the sake of actually taking him down. You want to babysit me and make sure that I won’t kill the bastard.” His posture straightened, demeanor changing. “Killing him does not solve the problem it just causes another one. You can’t just use violence as a way to deal with problems.” “Last I checked you use violence every night to deal with problems.” You were walking away from him, you sat back down on your couch. He followed you of course. Fucking asshole. You sat down in the chair near you, sure go ahead and just make yourself at home dickhead. “That’s different. I don’t, I don’t kill. Killing is wrong, it takes a life from the world and doesn’t give a person a chance to change. It doesn’t-” you grabbed him by the hem of his costume, you could see him bracing for a punch. You felt him flinch when you pulled him into a kiss. It was rough and your fists balled the material of his costume tighter. He was obviously taken off guard by the kiss but he melted into it soon.

The kiss was rough, tongues melting together. Teeth bumping and biting. Full of wet slips of tongues and teeth. Eventually you pulled away and during the span of that hell of a kiss he had somehow landed on top of you. His hair was a mess and he was breathing heavily, a blush was on his cheeks. He looked a like a hot mess and you were sure you did too. “Please. For the love of god. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” You sighed as you brushed your (h/c) hair from out from in front of your eyes. “Make me.” He muttered as he peppered a string of kissed to your jaw. “God, even when you’re about to get laid you’re annoyingly as hell.” You sighed as you shifted positions as to not feel quite so crushed under his weight. He pulled away quickly. “Who said anything about sex?” He looked mildly confused and quite frankly fucking adorable. “I did. But only if we do it on the bed in the other room because this position of fucking wrecking my spine.” You said as you pressed a kiss to his neck and sat up leading him to the other room. “And the bedroom has better lighting, Grayson” you say with a smirk watching panic slip onto his face. “That’s right I know, you’re not the only detective. And besides, you’re not as subtle as you think Dickie boy.”

* “I knew you fucking set me up. I trusted you and you fucking went behind my back to get Falcone and take him in yourself.” You scream. You’re both in your apartment. The past few nights had gone very differently than you were expecting. “Excuse me? I’m the one who went behind your back? Says the one who literally barged into a restaurant shooting at civilians!” He shouts back. His voice was raw and his face was red. You both had discarded the masks. “They were the bad guys Dick. How many times must I tell you this? They were going to kill innocent people and stopped them. I thought that’s what you cared about your fucking asshole?” You stated calmly. You turn your back to him and return to your kitchen. You pull a glass and a bottle of whisky from the cupboard. He follows you and you can hear him sigh. “(Y/n) you can’t just solve all your problems with violence and drinking. It’s not healthy.” He says. His blue eyes staring back at yours. You take a drink of your whisky. “Fucking watch me you son of a bitch.” You say defiantly. “Anyway only one guy died and it was because he was being stupid. The rest were just wounded and if I truly wanted them dead. They would be.” “God, you’re just so fucking full of it (y/v/n).” He says, his words full of mild defeat. You both know this conversation is going nowhere and is a hopeless cause that won’t amount to anything. “Please define 'it’ I need you to be a little more specific, Nightwing.” You purr back. You walk right by Dick and back into the living room. “Anyway, it has been a pleasure having you over Dickhead but a vigilante needs their beauty sleep, so kindly get the hell out of my apartment.” You say gesturing out the window. “Awww (y/n)”, he purrs grabbing your arm and pulling you close. “Don’t play like that.” “God, is it okay for me to blame everything wrong with your personality on Bruce or shall I bone it on the childhood trauma?” You counter. Words leaving your lips. “ gonna go with blamin-” Unfortunately you’re unable to continue your sentence as it is rudely interrupted by Dick pressing his perfectly pink lips to yours. The kiss is long and it almost distracts you from the click that you recognize as the sound of metal hand cuffs. He pulls away, his fingertips dancing across your jawline. “In the wise words of a certain crime fighting vigilante 'for the love of God, shut the fuck up’” Dick muttered with a smile before pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek and diving out the window leaving a slightly dazed (y/v/n) handcuffed to the window holding a slip of paper with a set of sloppy numbers written in glitter blue gel pen.