#I could not have been happier to work on this

[fictionismyreality3]

Pigtails = Handlebars 18+

Warnings: smut, like literally just smut. A little bit of degradation 🥺🥺 but it’s cute so 🤭

Notes: this is entirely self indulgent and no, I don’t care because I havE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER-

"You're such a good little- oh, fuck. Yeah, take it."

You couldn't do much other than lay there and take it. You knew the little outfit you'd bought would work John up, the pink bra and panty set getting his mouth watering as soon as he came home to you laying teasingly on his bed.

But what really sold it was the pigtails.

John wasn't quite sure why, but the sight of you, all soft and plush, looking so innocent as you laid there with that sweet smile on your face, had his cock aching to be stuffed inside you.

It stirred some deep, primal part of his brain to see you all dressed up like that. So soft and so sweet. Something little and precious he needed to keep tucked away so only he could ruin you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled your bedroom, your eyes rolling back into your head every time John pounded his cock into your leaking pussy. The ache between your thighs was building every time his heavy balls slapped against your clit.

"Such a tight fuckin' cunt." He growled, big hands holding onto your pigtails. "Made f'me, huh?"

"Yes!"

The stinging of his grip on your hair, tugging your head back, had you gasping. "Fuckin good little slut. All dressed up." Moan after moan ripped from your throat.

"All pretty f'me.” His head was spinning. “Tha’s it, little one.”

You'd long since stopped trying to hold yourself up on your hands and knees, your limbs going lax as you laid their on your stomach, letting John rut his cock into you, all the thoughts in your head leaking out of your cunt.

His eyes were fixed on where his cock disappeared inside you, his rough hands holding onto your pigtails as he used the leverage to go deeper, deeper.

The weight of his burly form pressed against your back as he curled himself around you, huffed growls in your ear as he bullied his throbbing cock against your cervix, had you drooling into the pillow.

By the time he was done, it was all you could do to lay there and feel his cum leaking out of you.

[strangelysamantha]

✧ smut. ❀ fluff. ☆ angst.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ outer banks masterlist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ jj maybank… (25)

- jj’s reaction to you flinching ☆

♡ jj is shocked when he finds out you flinched because of him, and even worse when he realized you thought he would actually hit you.

- crumbled cookies ☆

♡ you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

- crumbled cookies pt 2 ☆

♡ after jj finds out his dad was the reason for your black eye, he had to confront him.

- seashells ❀

♡ jj sees you at the beach, but he’s too nervous to interact with you. you notice him behind you, and you invite him to join you. he’s excited to hang with you, as well as find beautiful shells hidden in the sand!

- waves of heat ❀

♡ wearing jjs shirt while on the hms pogue and him begging you to go swimming.

- you’re mine ❀

♡ at the beach a random tourist had something to say about you, and he touched you when you didn’t want him too. jealousy sends jj wild, and he’s pissed, but he can’t even act on it.

- hatred runs out ❀

♡ you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

- filled ✧

♡ jj smut where he has a size kink.

- scared for you ☆

♡ when a fight breaks out between you and jj, he can’t help but be petty and ignore you. this causes you to be left alone at a kegger.

- the deep end ☆

♡ jj somehow finds everything you do annoying to the point he criticizes everything you do. john b thinks of a plan that will ensure his two friends will befriend each other. it was working at first, until it wasn’t.

- forceful ☆

♡ barry continuously flirts and sexualizes you, and when jj finds out, it isn’t pretty.

- shorty ❀

♡ your boyfriend and the pogues love picking on you for your height.

- replaced chickens ☆

♡ after sarah replaced you and jj, the two of you were determined to confront john b. if you both could find the guts to do so.

- one sided hatred ❀

♡ when john b exposes that he isn’t too fond of you, jj takes total offense to that, annoyed john b could even think about you in a bad manner.

- embarrassed ☆

♡ you rant to an old friend, complaining that it is sometimes embarrassing to be with jj and he ends up finding out. but what he learns isn’t the truth, it is actually the farthest from it.

- hair “prank” ❀

♡ jj's lousy joke about shaving his hair off upsets you more than he expected it would.

- i’m making him watch ✧

♡ jj is jealous about a tourist hitting on you, he fucks you good to make sure you don´t forget why you are with him.

- scars ☆

♡ jj comes to you after a blow out with his father. you clean his bruises as well as clean his awful mindset he has on life.

- hair tech ❀

♡ your hair wasn’t looking the way you wanted, so jj offered to try and learn to fix it. with the newly learned hair techniques, came the exposure of feelings. having to avoid telling john b, he conveniently walks in during the worst time.

- mirror sex ✧

♡ jj fucks you while he makes you watch his reflection.

- nerves ❀

♡ jj is too nervous around you, he struggles to tell you how he really feels.

- wet dreams ✧

♡ jj and you cuddle after a fun day of swimming with your friends. once sleep takes over, jjs dream runs wild, and with you in his bed, how could he keep the naughty thoughts at bay?

- ruined reputation ☆

♡ “i don’t want to date someone who’s embarrassed to be seen with me jj.” jj is originally embarrassed for others to know that you two are dating. he fears what his friends would think. but is his reputation more important than him keeping you?

- wasted ☆

♡ “you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?” in which jj makes a grave mistake cheating on you.

- sweet dreams ✧

♡ jj fucks you while you are asleep.

…

↳ john b… (3)

- inexpressible feelings ❀

♡ drunk words are sober thoughts, are they not? john b drunkenly asks you on a date, since that’s the only time he has the guts to talk to you.

- struggling ❀

♡ john b is struggling, and he finds himself venting to you about his lost father.

- tripped ❀

♡ john b embarrasses himself in front of you and is trying to get past it.

…

↳ pope heyward… (5)

- small details ❀

♡ “i never thought you’d pay attention to me in that way.” when pope accidentally reveals to you, that he does indeed, pay attention to the little things you do.

- avoidable jealousy ❀

♡ pope mistakes the bond you have with jj as something more than friends. this influences him into becoming jealous of something that wasn't happening.

- deserve better ✧

♡ after kiara told you she openly plays with pope’s feelings, there’s only so much you can do before you blow up on her.

- hopeless romantic ❀

♡ you visit pope at work, as often as you can. you help him, listen to him, flirt with him, and match his energy. his feelings for you are undeniable.

- party moves ❀

♡ it’s a boring party until pope shows up, and the atmosphere makes it easy to express your true feelings.

…

↳ rafe cameron… (17)

- act like it, get treated like it ✧

♡ rafe cameron doing what he does best.

- patience can be rewarding ✧

♡ you were confused as to why rafe was being extra clingy today. whether he meant to do it on purpose, or he was unintentionally obsessing over you, you decided to make a deal with him. if he could leave you alone, and undistracted long enough for you to finish your project, then you’ll make him feel good.

- elderly advice ❀

♡ when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

- bittersweet ☆

♡ you went to a local party by the beach when rafes unstable side peeked out. jj maybank finds you alone and decides to talk to you. rafe gets possessive and upset, thinking that jj was hitting on you.

- are you busy? ✧

♡ cockwarming rafe since he’s too busy to pay any attention to you, because he’s busy doing work for his father.

- crashing ☆

♡ rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

- malice compliments ❀

♡ rafe tries to flirt with you, but you believe it is malice and that he is pulling a lame prank on you.

- crystal clear ❀

♡ rafe cameron found out you were hiding crystals in his room, car, and pockets. he goes to topper to see if he knew what was going on, and after topper explained what it meant, he confronts you.

- shark bite ☆

♡ what was once a fun day on the beach filled with surfing, quickly became a bloody and painful nightmare.

- cheerleader ❀

♡ rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

- cheerleader two ✧

♡ the aftermath of rafe going to a football game for you and seeing you in a tight cheer outfit.

- wish you were sober ☆

♡ based on conan grays song, wish you were sober. in which watching after rafe becomes too tiring after he loses control again.

- surprise ❀

♡ throwing a surprise birthday party was definitely harder than you had expected, especially one for rafe.

- bonfire ☆

♡ rafe is overprotective of you at the bonfire and possessive!rafe doesn’t like the tourons staring at you.

- unfortunate events ☆

♡ rafe cameron is so overprotective, but that doesn’t stop him from putting you in harm's way. after reckless driving lands you in the hospital, your relationship is on the rocks.

- exposed ❀

♡ rafe sees a text from topper, exposing your little crush on him. at first you try to play it off, but you gain enough confidence to tell rafe about your feelings.

- promise ❀

♡ with matching halloween pajamas, you and your boyfriend are ready for some spooky movies.

…

↳ topper thornton… (2)

- sugar daddy ❀

♡ topper takes you shopping, something he didn’t think he was actually going to enjoy doing.

- realizations hit hard ❀

♡ topper tries to set you up with kelce, but he soon realizes he doesn’t want you to be with kelce. he wants you to be with him.

…

↳ sarah cameron… (5)

- girl that you love ☆

♡ when you accidentally read the situation wrong, and you expose yourself for liking sarah in a more than friendly way, she is quick to turn you down. “i’m sorry i gave you the wrong impression.” sarah isn’t gay, and she definitely doesn’t like you that way.

- lucky woman ❀

♡ sarah cameron finds out you have a crush on a girl, unbeknownst to her, she is that special lady. you know you can’t tell sarah about how you feel since she’s dating john b, so you have to quickly think of a crush that you can expose to sarah.

- secretly in love ❀

♡ a secret relationship between you and sarah, what could possibly go wrong?

- sunset confessions ❀

♡ all it took was one boat ride to change everything. when sarah cameron decides to tell you about her undeniable feelings, while the two of you watch the sunset.

- girl that you love pt 2 ❀

♡ after humiliating yourself after your confession to sarah, you find yourself comforted by kiara.

…

↳ the pogues… (1)

- life jackets ❀

♡ since you don’t know how to swim, you have to wear a life jacket. the pogues think it’s the funniest thing ever.

…

[fandoms-in-law]

Sweet Hate

Summary: Eddie has an unconventional way to reassure Steve he won't be silent if he gets dissatisfied in their relationship

Authors Note: Based off the McFly song 'Hate Your Guts' It seemed like a good song for a relationship that came from an enemies to lovers trope like Steddie often gets seen as.

/\

It started as a reassurance and a joke.

Steve had only been dating Eddie for a month when he explained what happened with Nancy and his fears of it happening again, of not knowing when someone he dated wasn’t as into the relationship as him.

Eddie had nodded at it all, gotten annoyed, then told Steve in many ways that he’d never do that to him, ending with, “I promise if I ever hate your guts, I’ll tell you immediately. Will you do the same?”

Steve agreed, missing the scheming glint in Eddie’s eyes.

~

They’d been having a quiet afternoon. Eddie was painting some minifigs while Steve pottered with various things around the trailer when he broke the quiet by sneezing loudly. Eddie startled enough his paintbrush almost covered the figure he’d been close to finishing.

“Bless you. I hate you. You couldn’t have held that until I wasn’t holding a brush?” He complained, stretching and leaning close to see if he could save it.

“Nope, could you wipe it off?” Steve asked, wandering over to look at it as well, only quietly adding “Just annoyed? Not actually hate?” quietly into Eddie’s shoulder once there.

Eddie grinned over his shoulder, “Just annoyed.” He reassured, “And maybe. Oh, it could be a backstory thing too.” With that he was grabbing a tissue and entirely focused on the minifig again.

~

Since the first time Eddie had done it the paid had fallen into the habit of declaring their hatred at the smallest things. For Steve if was generally in private, because he’d just go with the flow for a lot of social things, but wanted spaces to be tidy or organised which Eddie struggled with. Eddie however would declare hatred at least a couple times during each hang out and even if they spoke if it was something they’d need to work out, and knew if it was a dumb complaint, they started to get concerned looks from the kids again.

It all led up to Dust in Eddie’s doorstep one morning, upset and confused and resolute on getting answers over why the two people he’d tried so hard to make get along didn’t again.

“Why do you hate Steve?” Dustin demanded as soon as he was let into the Munson trailer.

Eddie shrugged, glancing behind him to the door hiding Steve in his room, still asleep. “I don’t hate him. I love the guy. He’s brilliant.”

“You literally always say you hate him.” The counter was annoyed and paired with a glare even as the kid fell back on the sofa as if he was the one that lived there.

He shook his head, not really sure how to explain why he did that to other people. “It’s not meant and he knows that. It’s just a thing we do.”

“I thought you were dating but you keep saying you hate him all the time.” Dustin grumbled, clearly not believing or not listening to him.

The door to his room opens and out comes Steve, yawning and smiling sleepily. “It’s sweet and I say it back. Like this, Eddie, I hate your guts. I got none of the blankets until you got up today.”

“Not sure how to solve that one Sweetheart, maybe we need separate blankets for sleeping.” Eddie mused, ignoring Dustin gaping between them.

After a moment to be stunned Dustin exclaimed, “How is it sweet to declare hatred all the time?”

“Just is.” was all the explanation given as Steve decided to help himself to breakfast.

~

After that scene the kids still frowned at them some, but seemed less concerned over it. Will once or twice tried suggesting over ways to communicate but didn’t worry if they were ignored.

Robin however had also noticed them and the only thing preventing her from speaking up sooner had been that Steve still seemed happy, almost happier than he had when he first started dating Eddie, she thought.

It still wasn’t something she could entirely ignore though, so one shift when Eddie hadn’t snuck in, she had to ask, “Steve? Are you happy?”

“Yes, why?” He replied automatically, focused on rewinding the returns that had been dropped in during the pre-work rush.

“You’re dating Eddie, but-” She broke off, unsure how to continue and hoping he’d figure out what she was talking about.

Steve turned to her, leaning against the wall now. “But?”

She huffed, just saying as quickly as she could, “He keeps saying he hates you, like everyday.”

“Nah, he loves me. It’s a sweet thing.” Steve corrected though he didn’t argue over how much it happened.

“Sweet?” She asked, confounded, “Normally I can follow your brain, but how is saying he hates you sweet?”

Steve shrugged, swapping the tapes over as the one he’d put in finished rewinding. “I worried he’d hide it from me if he wasn’t into me any more, so he started this. Every small peeve gets said so we can sort it. I just do it less around everyone.”

“But ‘I hate you’?” She asked, feeling entirely stuck on how that could be sweet in any world.

“I check if he means it if it’s too seriously said.” Steve smiles softly, looking at her imploring her to understand.

Robin smiled back, nodding and relaxing, “Okay Dingus. Just know I’m here if it stops being sweet.”

“I know.”

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 22

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

1.6k words

While you absolutely needed summer clothes you got the feeling that Bira had something extra in mind. At least your husband seemed to like it!

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

“Thanks for helping me with this” you said as Bira lead you through the busy streets.

“Of course! I’m not going to let you drop dead from the heat! I’m just happy Zen’jan waved me down to let me know” Bira responded.

It was quite a walk to the shop, tucked into a corner of the city that was mostly minotaurs, though Bira assured you several times her friend who owed the shop would be able to help.

“Hoonti!” Bira practically yelled as the two of you entered the shop.

The minotaur woman behind the counter looked and smiled, “Bira!” and the two quickly launched into an animated conversation in orcish.

“This is Hoonti, a long time friend of mine” Bira introduced, “and one of the best tailors I know. She’s going to take your measurements and ask a few questions and get started on making you a few things to start with”.

“Sounds good!” you answered.

Hoonti got right to work, buzzing about you with her measuring tape while Bira translated her questions.

“Any preferences for colors? Or any colors you absolutely don’t want?” Bira translated.

“Nothing too bright” you said.

“That’s no fun!” said Bira.

Bira was almost always in bright colors and clothes with fancy trim or details, though Zen always dressed pretty simply. He seemed to be the odd one out though, most of the trolls in the city seemed to be more like Bira with bright, highly detailed clothes and lots of jewelry. The closet thing to jewelry you ever saw Zen wear were the gold bands at the base of his tusks, though he had gotten you a few bracelets and necklaces.

“Okay okay okay, nothing too bright but let me pick one outfit for you, please!” Bira practically begged.

“One outfit” you repeated firmly.

“Just one! And I promise you’ll like it, and so will Zen’jan! It’ll make him happy”.

You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t worry, it’s just something traditional but it needs to be bright! Just trust me” she said.

“Sure”.

Many rounds of questions later and Bira and you were leaving the shop with the promise that Hoonti would drop the clothes off in a few days when she was done.

“So, you and Zen’jan” Bira began.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“He seems a lot happier than usual recently”

You could not help but smile a bit over that. There had been a shift in Zen over the last week, he was more relaxed around the house and was comfortable taking up space. He sat and stood up straight, no longer always trying to make himself smaller, he lounged and stretched out across the bed, he constantly showed you little affections like a hand on your shoulder or waist for a moment when he walked past or a quick nuzzle where he could.

“It’s been a good week” you smiled.

“Well, it’s good to hear that. He’s been doing better in general since you got married, he doesn’t look so tired and drained all the time anymore. He’s never been the best at taking care of himself, though it looks like he’s getting better about it though now that he has someone else to take care of”.

Bira showed you a few more of her favorite places around the city before walking you home.

“I’m happy he has you” Bira told you as she hugged you.

“I’m happy I have him too” you told her.

Three days later Bira and Hoonti showed up in the middle of the day laden with new clothes for you. Skirts, pants, shirts, and dresses of varying lengths, colors, and styles and much better suited for the weather than anything you brought.

They both fawned over you while you tried stuff on, it felt silly with how they fussed over you, but it was still fun.

“Ok ok, last one!” Bira called and handed you the last outfit.

It was several pieces all in a rich shade of red and trimmed with shiny gold embroidery and pearls.

“And I’m guessing this is what you were so excited about?” you asked.

“Just try it on!” she was so excited.

You ducked back into the bathroom to untangle the pieces; a pair of shorts, a wide rectangle of fabric with the beautiful embroidery on one long edge, and a longer thinner rectangle of fabric with the same embroidery in the center of one of the long edges.

“I’m going to need an explanation” you called from the bathroom.

“Shorts on, the wide rectangle ties over the shorts as a skirt, and just wrap the other around you and I’ll help”.

The shorts were shorter than you would have liked, the skirt came down to your mid thighs but because it was tied together it left quite a slit up the side where you tied it on you hip. You wrapped the other piece around you and shuffled out of the bathroom feeling rather exposed.

“Really?” you asked Bira.

“Yes! You’ve seen me in stuff like this! Don’t act so surprised!”

She helped you with the top, wrapping it behind your back and crossing it over your chest and tying it behind your neck. It left your midriff bare, but much to you surprise it at least covered a good amount of your chest.

“Absolutely perfect” Bira smiled.

“Its short” you muttered back.

“It’s good for hot weather, and for dancing! There’s a few festivals coming up that it’s perfect for. And I bet Zen’jan will like it, you should keep it on for when he gets home”.

You chatted with Bira and Hoonti for a while before both left to go about their day. You had to admit you had a lot of movement freedom in the outfit, and while it showed off a lot more than you were used to it was comfy and did look good.

Zen came home later that afternoon, in the last week he had been coming home earlier.

“I hope you do not mind, I stopped by the market in my way home and just picked up- wow” he paused when he saw you.

“It’s looks alright?” you asked.

“More than alright, you look incredible” he sat the food down and crossed the room, quickly placing his hands on your hips while he took a moment to take you in.

“Bira said it would be a good outfit for some festivals coming up”.

“It is, though now I am going to have to actually dress up for festivals to keep up with you” he pulled you closer until you were pressed against him and you could feel him purring.

You could also feel him hard against you. The two of you had been bathing together and sleeping naked, though both of you chose to ignore anything other than cuddling for now.

Zen was breathing hard and you could feel his heart racing being so close to him. He leaned down and nuzzled his forehead against yours before pulling you into deep kiss, wasting no time parting you lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

It caught you off guard. Zen never initiated anything, he always carefully waited for you to lean into him to cuddle, or for you to kiss him first. His grip on your hips tightened and you felt him grinding against you, felt the way he panted and moaned into your mouth, how his whole body heaved with every breath.

By the time he pulled away you were breathing just as hard, your heart racing while you looked up at him.

“I am sorry” he muttered, “Was that alright?”

You did not answer, instead you tangled your hands into hair and pulled him back in for another kiss. This time you pressed yourself against him and pulled him close just as much as he did to you. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and ran it along the base of his tusks before pulling back a bit and letting him lead again. His tongue nearly filled your mouth and you happily teased him by sucking on his tongue a bit.

Kissing him was never an elegant affair. His tusks always bumped the sides on your face and you also could not tilt your head at the right angle while you were wedged between them. Then mismatch in size between the two of you meant his mouth always entirely covered yours in an odd way, and it all added up to some rather wet, clumsy, and messy kissing but neither of you minded.

His hand drifted lower, cupping your backside and pulling you to rub against him, leaving an ache between your legs. Besides the night you had gotten drunk together, he had not so much as even hinted at anything more than cuddling, his sudden forward was was a bit odd but not unwelcome.

You pulled away from the kiss, “So, formal wear does it for you?” you teased, though at that moment he had also chosen to nudge your legs apart and press his thigh up against your center, making you collapse forward against his chest and let out a soft moan.

“When I come home and my beautiful wife is all dressed up for me it does” his voice was low in your ear and you could hear the need dripping from it. “And as beautiful as you look all dressed up for me, right now all I can think about is helping you out of it all, if you will let me”.

--------

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[disheveledtranquility]

Venom saying "we" instead of "you" when talking about being happier speaks volumes and this whole road sequence lives rent free in my head.

The symbiote isn't throwing salt into the wound of "Eddie could have been happier without it, because then he could have a normal life with a wife and kids," but implying them with a family of their own would have made them BOTH happier. And Eddie doesn't disagree. He doesn't make a jab of "I could have. (If you weren't in the picture)"

He's suddenly solemn when the topic is brought up. Thinking. Longing. Possibly wondering how in the hell that would work.

Never mind the subtleness in this scene, with the symbiote talking to him in a gentle tone, and Eddie glancing at the boy beside him. Almost as if Eddie feels like a part of him wants that too. Because later Eddie talks about them having many more road trips and stuff, again, not leaving the symbiote out of the picture.

This scene feels like a little nod to their family in the comics despite the lack of Sleeper or Dylan here.

Also, an emotional Eddie is always my favorite Eddie.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts in the wake of the election, of people telling each other not to end their lives. I’ve reblogged a lot of them, but I wanted to give my two cents as well.

I remember what it was like to be suicidal. I remember how hard it was to not give up. So I wanted to share with you the words my therapist told me that ended up saving my life:

“I’m not going to tell you not to commit suicide. Because the truth is, that’s not my call to make. I can’t see what’s going on inside your head. You’re the only one who gets to decide whether your pain is something worth bearing. What I’m here to do is to move suicide from your Plan B to your Plan Z. And we’re going to work together to map out a game plan, so that you have a list of options you can run through before you have to resort to that Plan Z.”

And I remember why these words saved me. It was because for the first time in my life, someone was validating my struggle. Someone was recognizing just how hard it was for me to keep fighting, instead of telling me that I needed to keep on pushing through. And that validation was, ironically, what gave me the strength to keep going.

Your pain is real. Your pain is valid. You are the only one who gets to decide if it’s too much to bear. All I can say is that that pain is not guaranteed to last forever, even if your brain- and the news- is trying its hardest to convince you that it will.

You don’t owe it to anyone to stick around forever. But you do owe it to yourself to hang on a little longer, just to see if there’s an easier, less permanent way to end your pain. Because as long as you’re still breathing, that chance at a happier life is still there, even if it feels impossible right now. I should know, because I found it.

So take a deep breath. Make a promise to yourself to live just one more day. Just one. And the day after that, do the same. Keep doing it as long as you need to, or as long as you have the strength to. Because eventually there will come a day where you won’t have to make that bargain with yourself. Where you’ll actually want to live, rather than just living by default. It’s worth waiting around until then, even if that respite doesn’t last forever.

So find a reason to live just for today. It doesn’t have to be profound or meaningful. It could be as simple as wanting to catch up on your favorite show. It could be sheer fucking spite if it needs to be. The orange man could keel over and die tomorrow for all we know. Dude’s 78 after all- isn’t it worth sticking around to see if that happens?

One way or another, you won’t be hurting forever. There will be an end to your pain. Hopefully, you won’t need Plan Z to get to that point. But you will find peace again, I promise you that.

We will get through this. Together.

[discordiansamba]

lee loves his new job.

lee loved his job at the middle ring tea shop too, of course. he'd been happy there. he still missed his coworkers. missed the owner. missed his regular customers. he wonders if lin ever managed to attract the attention of that cute bookshop girl. he hopes yukio got into ba sing se university. he's a little sad that he won't get to see toshio's third child.

but serving princess azula is everything he could have hoped for- and more. there is a simple honor in his status as her personal tea server. she calls upon him twice a day- once in the afternoon, and once after the evening meal. sometimes lady mai will visit the kitchens in the morning, to have a cup of tea with him. lady ty lee is friendly, often congregating with the servants in a casual way.

(lee is never casual with her. it would be unbecoming of a commoner.)

if there's anything he's sad about, it is that he does not see father every day anymore. he misses the routine they had back home- misses cooking dinner for him each night. sometimes the kitchen staff will allow him to help with their daily meals. the first time princess azula eats his cooking, she is impressed. she is a kind employer- never hesitant with her praise.

when she returns to the fire nation, she plans to bring lee with her. you'll be the fire lord's personal tea server. won't that be wonderful? lee tells her that it is a greater honor than he deserves. the princess merely smiles and says that she cannot think of anyone more worthy than him for the position.

(he does not see the pitying look lady mai sends him.)

living and working together with jin almost makes up for not seeing father every day. when lady ty lee finds out that they haven't gone on a date in awhile, she insists to princess azula that she give him some time off every once in awhile. the princess smiles at his flustered face and apologizes. how silly of her not to notice. of course you can have some time off, lee. even the servants deserve time for romance.

they celebrate his eighteenth birthday together by visiting the theater. they each put on their best clothes- and lee cannot help but stare at himself in the mirror. he looks like himself. it's an odd thing to think. of course he looks like himself. who else would he be? he mentions it to his father, and the man smiles at him and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"you've grown into a fine young man, lee," he tells him, "-a proper man of earth. i'm so proud of you. your mother would be too, were she here."

his father embraces him. lee returns it, burying his head in his shoulder. all he has ever wanted was to make his father proud.

his date with jin is wonderful. the other servants tease them about it when they return. it makes him flustered, but it also makes him happy. in fact, lee can't think of a time he's been happier.

"i hope," he tells jin, "-i can stay like this forever."

[lightlycareless]

Another oneshot (?) we've been all waiting for. The sequel to this piece over here :> Ah, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this. I hope you enjoy it!!!

Warnings: mentions of unaliving you. (explained in the first part) Naoya is insecure about himself, but loves you greatly. mentions of pregnancy. yep, you're pregnant and happily married :) slight mentions of nsfw activities. minimal proofreading I think?

Happy reading!!

Why did it have to be him?

Of all people that could’ve been chosen from to follow through with this lead, of all willing candidates who were more than ready to seize the glory the completion of this mission would provide…

Why did they choose him?

Was it because he was the one that discovered said lead? Or how deep it actually ran? Just enough to affect not only his fellow sorcerers, but civilians as well?

It sounded like an excuse, not even a good one at that, to keep him promptly occupied and away from his true, and only priority; the reason why he started this sting operation in the first place.

Yet, as much as he wanted to escape, he remained behind because there was some truth to be found behind their words: no one else knew the gravity of the situation better than him. There was no other that experienced so closely what it was to almost lose someone dear to him, and such, the importance to put an end to all of this.

Working every single day and night, Naoya was eventually able to catch the head of this whole mafia and bring them to justice—only then, was he able to return home to you, his pregnant and inconsolable wife which could barely express her feelings outside of a tight hug, fearing he’ll disappear if she let’s go, and quiet sobs, wishing he’d never leave again.

“Naoya” you breathe, taking in his scent, his warmth, his everything you’ve been cruelly deprived of for months. “Naoya, ple—please, don’t leave me again���”

“I won’t—” And your husband was eager to promise you so, having long decided that missions are temporarily suspended until he decides otherwise—

But the moment his arms embrace you back, the first time in what felt like eons for him… he’s welcomed by a horrifying revelation, a sensation he perhaps wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t disappeared.

Your stomach was bigger, more prominent; he had to stretch his arms a little more in order to completely fit you—

Undermining the length of his absence, earnestly reassuring himself on his way back that he hadn’t been away from you for long, that he hadn’t missed much of your kisses or giggles… or his child’s growth.

But obviously, he had. It was plain to see.

And he had missed all of it because of that stupid mission that didn’t even pay him that well...

Naoya began to distance himself from you soon after.

You didn’t think much of it at first, naively believing he was just… trying to readjust back into his previous home life, break away from being constantly on his toes and simply relax. It was only a matter of time before Naoya returned to the same loving, albeit teasing, husband you knew and loved!

God knows you went through the same thing when returning to the Zen’in estate, which you never believed would happen considering how everything transpired after your supposed allergy.

In fact, everything about it was… confusing, for a lack of better wording. From the swiftness in which you were transferred to your clan’s home, to how you were received back by an entirely different staff…

A part of you swore it wasn’t a simple allergy—

Nonetheless, you trusted Naoya, knew how he was too. Prone to overreacting at the smallest mention of danger, a side of him that only worsened upon learning of your pregnancy.

In these matters, sometimes silence was the best path to take. More so if it meant a happy marriage, a happier life, in return.

At least that’s what you wished to believe, because no amount of compromise seemed to put things back in place, not even after days of his return, nor how much you desired it to.

Something just… didn’t sit right with him. The short answers, his quick glances, to even keeping distance between the two when sharing the same bed…!

There was something undeniably wrong with your husband, but you were not to give up anytime soon. Even when these little things began to chip away at your poor dismayed heart, you still found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

«He just needs a little push» you conclude. «A reminder of what he missed, and he’ll be back on track»

And thankfully, you knew exactly what to do.

With a light robe that left nothing to the imagination, you’d wait for him in your shared chambers, patiently sitting by the futon to when he eventually crosses the door, eyes wide as Naoya took in your form, breath hitching to his throat the moment the garment fell to your sides, enough provocation for him to move closer, finally within your hands grasp.

“Naoya.” You softly cooed, fingers carefully tracing the edges of his hakama, which you soon began to undo. “My love.”

He’s always found it amusing how easily he succumbed to your charms: just two words while batting your eyes and he was putty in your hands.

“I missed you.” You cooed, pouring honey into his ears as you continued to undress him; Naoya did nothing to stop his robes from falling beside him—too entranced to care about anything else but you, and the heat settling underneath your touch. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been without you…”

You’d then place a trail of kisses, beginning from his ear down to his cheek and then, his lips, where he’d cautiously return the gestures, almost as if he were afraid of hurting you.

But as much as you wished he’d be a bit more assertive; you do not press him—if anything, his reaction makes your heart tighten, urging you to spoil him even further, which you do by softly intertwining your hands with his, pulling them up to your sensitive breasts and resting them there.

“Without your touch… without your warmth” You murmur, gently squeezing him against you before sliding his hands down your sides… “No matter how much I tried… nothing compares to you.”

Onto your rounded stomach, to the soft skin protecting his unborn child—a son or daughter made from your overflowing love, fated to represent such union by either resembling their father or you; Naoya secretly hopes they take after you, both physically and in personality.

And you… well, a little prince that looked just like your husband simply made the wait unbearable.

But regardless of the outcome, both knew they’d love them either way.

“Please.” You breathe against his lips, palm gently rubbing against his growing desire. “I need you.”

But even your longing couldn’t contend against Naoya’s uncertainty, for the moment his fingers graced your belly, he was sourly reminded of the revelation that has haunted him since his return, fated to haunt you too when he immediately retracted.

And way he looked at you, at your child, almost as if he were frightened, if not disgusted… is one that permanently imprints on the back of your mind; destroying any last hope you had for this sweet moment, and subsequently, your heart with the following questioning.

“Did I… Did I do something?” you quietly ponder, hands trembling as you struggled whether to keep looking at Naoya, or glance away. You didn’t know anymore…

Only that it hurt.

“No, it’s… it’s not you.” He responds, probably the largest sentence you’ve gotten out of him since his return; and the answer that made your assumptions worsen.

“Then is—is it—is it the baby?” you fret, feeling whatever remained of your heart break. “Do you—Do you not want the baby anymore?”

“What?” Naoya’s eyes widen, perplexed by the accusation. “What did you just say?”

It was outrageous, uncalled for considering all what he did and for who did it.

But to you, who was kept in the dark throughout the entirety of his absence, alongside his shockingly different behavior, your mind could only point you onto one direction:

In his time away, back on the field and for a long time just like he did before the two married… did he suddenly realize how restricting a baby would be on his life? On his career? Perhaps acknowledge that this is not something he was willing to sacrifice?

Or did he—

Did he conclude you were not the right person to share this experience with? Someone out there far more suitable than you?

Naoya didn’t need to read minds to know exactly what was going on through your thoughts, nor to be reminded of what he must to ensure your happiness, which he had selfishly stripped you away from—once again…

“I would put down my life just to keep you and our child safe.” Naoya says, moving to take your hands with his as a gesture to put all this behind, but when you flinch away in return, he’s given a taste of what you’ve silently endured since his return. “Y/N—”

“Your—your words don’t go with what you—with what you’ve done.” You quietly retort, struggling with the cluster of emotions his actions provided: from embarrassment, to sadness, ending in anger… and yet, you still loved him. “How can you say that when you’ve—when you’ve done nothing but reject me?”

Once again Naoya wishes to immediately refute your worries, but he knew well it would prove your claim, do the very same thing he swore to prevent.

Seems that all this time he spent trying to protect you was for naught, for he’d come straight home to hurt you instead.

“Have I… Have I become… undesirable to you, because of this?” Given the way he glanced away whenever coming near him, what else were you supposed to think?

“Y/N.” Naoya persists, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him—your eyes reflecting straight back at him how consistently stupid he had been with you.

Yes, the pain he felt for not being there with you through this very important time of their marriage is very valid—no one said otherwise.

But had he even considered how infinitely worse it had been for you? You were the one carrying his child, dealing with all that pertained to a pregnancy: hormones, pains, fears and insecurities… with the addition of just what you needed: his second thoughts.

Could anyone blame you for assuming such things?

“Wh—what?” you respond, frowning.

“I haven’t been truthful to you.” Naoya begins. “In fact, I don’t think I have been at all.”

“You think?” you accuse, he swallows.

“I know.” Naoya corrects. “I know I haven’t been honest with anything. From my absence to my behavior towards you, the least you deserve is the truth.”

“…Is there someone else?” you quickly interrupt. “Just tell me if—”

“No, never. I love you too much to ever look at someone else and you know that.”

You look away, afflicted to have even considered such a horrible thing, as if he hadn’t proved so countless times.

“Then… what is it?” you murmur. “What have I done to make you act this way?”

“Nothing.” He responds. “You didn’t do nothing at all.”

It was only the passage of time that earned you such reckless reaction, marking you responsible for something you had no influence over.

His baby was to continue grow inside you regardless of if he was there to see it or not. And in a way, he should be happy this was the way things were occurring: It meant that your pregnancy was a healthy one, the only thing he desired for you and the baby at the end of the day!

But he allowed his emotions to get the best of him and now, made you victim of his consequences.

He could see it in the way you didn’t believe his words, your eyes looking at him but void of the adoration and devotion you always blessed him with.

Naoya feels undoubtedly foolish. The only one undeserving here was him.

“You never had an allergy reaction. Not even close. The reason why I asked you to stay with your dad was because...” Naoya stops. “Was because there was an—an attempt on your life. Someone thought they’d be able to hurt you and walk away without consequences. I made sure he knew otherwise.

And… I kept it a secret because I thought it would be best for you. I thought that by doing so I’d be protecting you… but it seems I only ended up hurting you instead.

I wasn’t supposed to keep this long away from you either. But what I once thought a quick mission turned out to be a whole operation; and since I was the one who found out everything, I was also responsible to seeing the end of it.”

Naoya hopes that by explaining this you’d be able to… well, maybe not forgive him at the moment, but at least look at him with that glint in your eye that made his heart quicken every time. A step closer to his redemption…

And not be shocked by your following words!

“I already knew all that! But it still doesn’t explain why you’re acting this way with me.”

“You—you knew? How?” Naoya thought he ordered all those around you to keep this situation under complete secrecy, even threatened to retaliate if not.

But what surprised him the most wasn’t the breach of his trust, but rather… your knowledge and composure of the matter, as if you hadn’t been the target all along.

“My staff told me.” You confessed. More precisely, Haruko, whom at the sight of your disheartened façade at your husband’s prolonged absence just had to tell you the truth.

With Mariya’s subsequent scolding giving you enough leverage to ensure its veracity.

“They tend to be very attentive about all that happens around the estate, and if necessary, they also tell me about it.” You continue. “…But please don’t punish them because of this. They mean nothing but good for me.”

“I know, and I won’t do so.” Naoya promises, far more intrigued in knowing just how far their knowledge of their surroundings extended: if they were aware of all his surprises and told you about them, if your reactions to them had been planned too…

Or if your staff still gave him a chance, understanding how special these gestures were for the two and letting everything play out by itself.

Naoya knew your ladies were ones to be trusted even with your own life, which is why he moves on to worry about your seeming indifference to this scandalous revelation.

“And you weren’t… frightened when they told you?” He breathes, his heart tightening at notion of your anguish, how he wasn’t there to comfort you.

“I was, and for the longest time I didn’t want to eat anything even if it was handed to me by my most trusted…” you continue, those days are ones you still struggle to forget. “But… I guess that after a while, my worries eventually extended over to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first because you are my husband and I always worry for you, and secondly, because you were out there dealing with the people that tried to harm us… and were close to succeeding.”

“Please don’t say that.” Naoya begs; the thought of you and his baby— he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“… I tried my best to know of your whereabouts, what you were truly doing, but since this was a secret to begin with, I could barely find anything.” You responded. “Or why you wanted to keep this hidden from me.”

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want to give you another scare that might hurt the baby...”

“I know.” You sigh. “Which is why I ultimately decided to not push the subject when you came back; believing that once you were here, with us, everything would go back to normal…”

“Except it didn’t.” Naoya concludes, you tearfully look away.

“I looked back on all the things that happened in hopes of finding an answer. To what I knew, what I’ve done, if maybe there was something I said over the phone that you didn’t like, but… nothing seemed to click for me. So, I guess that after all that happened alongside how lonely I felt, my mind simply assumed you’ve—”

“—found someone else.”

“…Have you?”

“No; you know I don’t entertain others since the moment I met you.” He repeats.

“Then why… this?”

Shall he tell you that the way he’s chosen to deal with his prolonged absence… was by continuously rejecting you? Keeping away from you and his unborn child, missing even more of the growth he swore to witness and protect?

If he wants a slap across the face, he ought to.

But even then, he’d much rather take your anger than the pain of you mistrusting him enough to believe he’d ever love anybody else that wasn’t you.

His heart was yours, from the very moment he set his eyes on you. Naoya swore so when marrying you—

No—since the moment he was born Naoya already knew he was destined to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next one, and the next one. He just needed to find you…

And make amends in this one if he planned to achieve that too.

“…Because when I saw you again, I thought everything would go right back to how it was. That I’d find you just how I left you, happy, well fed, and with that adorable belly of yours I couldn’t wait to see grow…

But once I held you in my arms… when I felt how big our child had truly grown, how much time I’d ended up spending away from you—

I couldn’t stand to be near you. I felt repulsed by myself, like I had failed you—”

Like I didn’t deserve you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you and our little mochi so, so much, I don’t know what came over me to hurt you.”

“I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me… I thought we agreed to never do that when we got married.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, looking away. It was now your time to cup his face and return his heartbroken gaze to you. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“And you can do that… by our side.” You then grab his hands, carefully placing them over your stomach and caressing it. “…Please don’t leave us again, I don’t think my heart could take that again…”

“I won’t, I swear.” Naoya says. “I never want to leave your side ever again or miss our baby’s growth. I want to be there when she gives her first kick.”

“Why are you so adamant in believing our baby is a girl?” you giggle, he smiles.

“I don’t know, father’s intuition, I guess. Though it all started the moment I had that dream of her. Ever since, all I can see is a little girl that looks just like you running across the estate” He confesses, your breath hitches. “With your big, bright eyes and rosy chubby cheeks I cannot wait to pinch, demanding she’d be given taro mochi before dinner—and you naturally sneaking some for her, of course.”

“You dream of our baby?” you swoon.

“Every night.” Naoya admits, and the thought of your husband being so eager to welcome his baby that he dreams of her… it warms you up with unprecedented happiness.

“Don’t curse our daughter like that…” you pout, referencing how Naoya already plans to tease her. He laughs.

“Finally accepted the truth, huh? That she’s a girl?”

“You’re not off the hook yet—” but just when you were on way to refute him, a sudden shiver down your spine stops you, making Naoya quickly reach out for your robe and wrap you with it, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before hugging you.

Being so close to you after so long it made it physically impossible for him to stray away, especially with the tight way you hugged him back, finally giving him all the love itched to share—and taking in his warmth, his scent; the smell you missed oh so much, but was only able to enjoy through the covers on the bed or his clothes.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

“Are you still cold?” Naoya asks, gently rubbing your back.

“No, not anymore…” you whisper, leaning deeper into his chest before trembling once more. “Oh, well, a little bit.”

“Come on, let’s get you back on the futon.” He proposes. “Unless you still want to…”

You shake your head, for as endearing as that sounded, there was much to catch up to.

“I just want to be like this with you.” You add, looking up to him. “If… that’s ok with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Making haste, Naoya helps you down onto the bed with such tenderness you could only giggle at, reminding him that you were only pregnant, and subsequently, still capable of doing many things.

“No, we’re not doing that.” He says, firmly set on pampering you; let it be known that he greatly loved you and missed being with you like this.

And once you were comfortably set on the bed, underneath the warm cotton covers and safe within his arms, he rested his hands over your stomach, no longer flinching at it’s feeling and instead, relishing your scent —roses, his favorite—and what this felt like to him, what you always represented:

Home.

“Have you eaten well? After that, I mean.” He wonders; Naoya doesn’t doubt you have, between your family and staff, there was never a moment they would allow you to lack what you so much desired. Yet, he still wishes to know directly from you.

“Contrary from what this may seem, I’ve only gotten this big because of the baby, not because I’ve been eating that much…”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” He laughs, still caressing your stomach. “Though I have to admit that I find you quite adorable like this.”

You blush.

“You must’ve been huge as a baby.” You continue on, enjoying the warmth eradiating from his hand onto your growing belly. And something tells you your adorable baby does too.

“Me? What makes you think that? Could’ve been your side of the family.” Naoya snickers.

“Um, no it isn’t. I’ve seen pictures of me and my dad tells me I wasn’t this big. Besides, it’s not fair that I haven’t been able to find pictures of you when you were a baby to corroborate that.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” He asks, inwardly glad that Ranta had managed to hide them. Though after this he supposes he could give you a preview…

“Besides eating odd cravings…” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, admiring the sensation of his wedding band underneath your touch. “Like Cheetos and strawberry yogurt…”

“Don’t tell me you actually ate that.”

“Our baby wanted it, what was I supposed to do? Deny her? That would only make me a bad mother.”

“Or a spoiling one.” He smiles. “But I can’t be too harsh on you, I’d be the same.”

“If not worse…” you say, recounting all the gifts he sent you while away. You haven’t even gone through all of them yet—and something tells you you might never, somehow more on the way…

“Definitely worse.” Naoya repeats, squeezing your cheeks into a pout before kissing the side of your face. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“I have long forgiven you, Naoya.” You respond, turning around to see him. “But… promise to never do that again. We swore not to keep secrets between us. And if we are to make this family work, we have to be a team.”

“I know; us against the world.” Naoya murmurs, pulling you closer to him and giving you one last tight hug. “I promise, and I swear I’ll do everything within my reach to make up for all my mistakes.”

“You don’t need to do that, just your love will be enough for the two of us.”

He gives you a breathy chuckle, that he knows will not be an issue, he has more than enough love to share with you and his unborn baby, perhaps even more than he’s comfortable disclosing, which could easily be mended with another baby—

But all in due time, for he does not intend to rush this special moment with you. He simply desires to live the rest of his life with you, one day at a time.

Just… you and his baby.

What a lovely thought to fall asleep to.

I cannot believe they had this discussion naked LMAO I can't be the only one that thought so 🙈 anyways, there you have it. a regretful Naoya that lamented being away from you :( he's really excited to be a dad but hated not being there for you!! I'm 100% sure he cried about feeling your stomach be slightly bigger.

Oh, I love domestic au's. Anyways...

I hope this was to your enjoyment :> Thank you so much for your support!!

Take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 11

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Author’s note: Brace yourselves for a long one! This chapter is a pure emotion (sorry if you're not into that!) Bruce and Marie fight, make up, and finally get together. I hope you all enjoy a big sigh of relief at the end of the chapter. It’s a bit of a whirlwind, but the best kind of whirlwind.

Apologies for the wait! Life got in the way, but we’re back at it.

Word count: 9k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the tall windows of Wayne Manor, casting long shadows across the room as Bruce stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. The faint sound of classical music played in the background, a soft and calming contrast to the storm of thoughts running through his mind.

Alfred, ever-present and always meticulous, stood a few feet away, inspecting the final touches of Bruce's attire. He took a moment to adjust Bruce's bowtie, before he stepped back and gave a nod of approval.

"You look dashing, as always, Master Wayne," Alfred remarked with a hint of pride in his voice. "A yacht party, is it? Quite the venue for a police fundraiser."

Bruce exhaled softly, his gaze distant as he continued adjusting his cufflinks, though he didn’t seem particularly focused on them. "You know it’s not really about the fundraiser."

Alfred tilted his head, studying Bruce for a moment. "Ah. I see. Miss Manning, I presume?"

Bruce didn’t answer right away, but the faintest smile played on his lips as he glanced at his reflection. "She'll be there. At least, I hope she will. I invited the entire department."

Alfred let out a thoughtful hum, crossing his arms as he moved to stand next to Bruce. "You’ve been in better spirits lately, if I may say so. Wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you've been working with her again, would it?"

Bruce paused, catching Alfred's gaze in the mirror. He shrugged, trying to play it off, though he knew it was no use—Alfred could see straight through him. "Maybe," he murmured, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "We work well together."

Alfred’s expression softened, but his voice carried its usual weight of wisdom. "Teamwork is one thing, but you've been rather preoccupied with her in other ways, haven't you? I daresay, Master Wayne, you're a bit happier these days."

Bruce chuckled under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "We’re not together anymore, Alfred. She’s a coworker." The words felt wrong coming out of Bruce’s mouth.

Alfred studied him for a moment longer before speaking. "You know, there are worse fates than working with someone you care about, even if things aren’t as they once were. Perhaps it's not the end of the story yet."

Bruce looked down, his fingers tracing the edges of his cufflink absentmindedly. "Maybe not. But I don’t want to pressure her into anything. She’s been through a lot, and so have I. If working together is all we can manage right now... I’ll take it."

Alfred stepped back, straightening the lapel of Bruce's jacket before placing his hands behind his back. "Well, if nothing else, Master Wayne, it’s shaping up to be a lovely evening. I trust you’ll make the most of it."

Bruce gave a nod, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. His mind drifted to the image of Marie—her fierce determination, her humor, and the way she always challenged him.

It was more than just admiration; he cared about her deeply, and despite the distance between them now, he couldn’t help but hold on to the hope that maybe tonight could be different.

With a deep breath, Bruce adjusted his jacket one final time, turning toward the door. "I guess we’ll see what happens."

Alfred gave him a reassuring smile as he followed behind. "Indeed, sir. Shall I ready the car?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. Let’s get this party started."

—-------------------------------

The soft evening breeze off Gotham Harbor brushed against Marie’s skin as she stepped onto the grand yacht, her heels clicking lightly on the polished deck.

The scent of saltwater and expensive cologne mingled with the faint notes of the orchestra playing in the background, reminding her how far removed this was from the rough streets of Gotham.

The twilight sky was a mix of soft pinks and purples, reflecting off the calm waters, but it was the lights of the yacht that stole the attention. Music played faintly from the upper deck, where Gotham’s elite mingled and sipped champagne.

Marie tugged at the fabric of her deep navy blue gown, smoothing out a wrinkle as she walked alongside Commissioner Gordon. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, flowing elegantly around her legs as she moved. The halter neckline left her shoulders bare, with her long dark curls cascading down her back in soft waves.

“You clean up nice, Manning,” Gordon teased lightly, giving her a sidelong glance.

Marie chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it. The next time you see me, I’ll be in a Kevlar vest and jeans.”

Gordon grinned, adjusting his tie as they approached the entrance. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they entered the party, greeting a few familiar faces from the department and city officials, Marie’s eyes shifted toward the front of the yacht, where Bruce stood, speaking with a small group of guests.

Even from a distance, Bruce exuded his usual charm—tall, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, and a faint smile playing on his lips as he politely engaged in conversation with several people at once, all mesmerized by his charm.

“Notice you haven’t mentioned Bruce much lately,” Gordon remarked casually, keeping his voice low as they approached the party. “How are you guys doing?”

Marie glanced at Gordon, her lips curling into a slight smile. “We’re… taking things extra slow,” she replied, her tone light but with a hint of something more beneath it. “If you can even call it that.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry. “Ah. I see.”

She gave a small shrug, her eyes lingering on Bruce for a moment before looking back at Gordon. “Honestly, we’re not really together anymore.”

Gordon nodded thoughtfully, his hands slipping into his pockets as they continued walking. “I won’t push. But I’ve always liked him. He’s always been supportive of the department—this is what, the second fundraiser he’s thrown for the GCPD in the last few months?”

Gordon’s gaze softened, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “He’s got a good heart, despite what people say about him just being a playboy. And it doesn’t hurt that he has… well, resources.” He paused, sweeping his hand toward the grandeur of the yacht—its gleaming decks, the dazzling lights casting reflections on the water.

He went on, "I don’t think I’ve ever said more than a few words to the guy before, you know."

Marie smirked to herself. You’ve definitely said more than a few words to him.

Her thoughts trailed back to how deeply Bruce was connected to the GCPD, not just as himself but as Batman. She wondered if Gordon ever suspected, but that was a conversation for another day.

The atmosphere was vibrant, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoing in the night air. Servers weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The yacht, with its glittering lights, felt like a world apart from the gritty reality she was used to.

Marie scanned the party, taking in the sights of Gotham’s elite, but her mind wandered back to Bruce. It felt strange, being here like this—so close, yet still keeping a distance.

Gordon, sensing her momentary distraction, gave her a soft nudge. “Come on, let’s make the rounds before you slip off to wherever you plan to disappear to.”

Marie smiled, following Gordon into the crowd, but her eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Bruce, who had already noticed her arrival.

Bruce excused himself from the group he was speaking to as soon as he saw Marie and Gordon approaching.

His eyes found Marie, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. She looked stunning—breathtaking, even. The deep navy gown hugged her figure perfectly, the soft waves of her hair catching the light just right.

For someone who was always so focused and no-nonsense, there was something about seeing her like this, outside of the chaos of their usual world, that stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, a subtle, warm smile tugging at his lips as he walked toward her, every other distraction fading into insignificance.

“Commissioner Gordon, Marie,” Bruce greeted with a nod, his voice smooth but a touch warmer than the usual Wayne charm he used at events like these.

“Mr. Wayne,” Gordon responded with a polite nod. His formalities were a front, as always, but Bruce could see the familiar warmth in his eyes.

Bruce's eyes locked onto Marie, and for a moment, he forgot to speak. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, his gaze tracing the way the lights caught in her hair and the warmth in her eyes. She noticed, her lips curving into a soft smile, breaking the silence for him.

"Hey, Bruce," she said, her voice warm but a bit guarded, though she didn’t pull her gaze from his. "Quite the event you’ve put together."

Bruce gave a slight shrug, his smile deepening as his eyes remained on her. “Had to keep things interesting. I was really hoping to see you here.”

Before Marie could respond, a woman from the crowd—a socialite Bruce barely recognized—swept in with bubbly enthusiasm. “Detective Manning! Oh, it’s been forever. You look lovely. Come, you must meet the newest member from the city’s cultural council.”

Marie glanced at Bruce, her smile tightening slightly. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

With that, she was whisked away, leaving Bruce watching her disappear into the crowd.

—-------------------------------

The lights of the yacht cast shimmering reflections across the dark sea, laughter and clinking glasses mingling with the soft lap of waves. Bruce leaned against the railing to take a brief respite between mingling, his gaze shifting between the guests around him, though his attention briefly wandered elsewhere.

With a practiced motion, he slipped his hand into his jacket, fingers brushing over the slim device hidden within. It was a compact, high-frequency scanner he always kept on him, subtly tuned to the city's emergency channels.

Tonight might be a rare moment away from Gotham’s shadows, but he knew better than to drop his guard completely. The scanner offered a quiet reassurance—a link to the undercurrents of the city, alerting him to any crime that might demand his presence. This was part of who he was now, a constant awareness of the other life he led.

Satisfied by the silence on the scanner, he allowed himself a slow exhale, just as Gordon approached with a whiskey in each hand. Bruce slipped his hand out of his pocket, straightening, trying to ease into the rare luxury of a normal evening—at least for a moment.

"Some event you put on, Bruce," Gordon started, handing Bruce a whiskey, "And I’ve got to say, I’m pretty damn impressed that you threw this entire yacht party just to impress Manning."

Bruce shot him a sidelong glance, half a smirk pulling at his lips. "That obvious?"

Gordon chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Bruce. This is the second GCPD event you’ve hosted this year. Either you’re gunning for Gotham’s Philanthropist of the Decade, or you’ve got your eye on one of my detectives. And between you and me, I don’t think it’s the philanthropy.”

Bruce shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s not just for her."

"Sure," Gordon replied, raising an eyebrow. "It’s for the other 200 guests you barely know."

Bruce sighed, his smirk fading. He wasn’t about to deny it. Marie was the reason he was here, the reason he’d gone through all the trouble. "She’s important."

Gordon gave a little shrug, his mouth quirking up as if he couldn't argue even if he tried. “Can’t say you're wrong there,” he replied, glancing around the deck with a hint of amusement. 

Moments passed in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht blending with the music and mingling guests.

Gordon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Marie across the party. “Listen, Bruce, I see her like a daughter. She’s tough as nails, but she’s been through hell. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Bruce met Gordon’s intense gaze. “We aren’t dating anymore, Commissioner. Marie made it clear.”

Gordon leaned in slightly, his voice low and firm. “I get that, but let’s not kid ourselves. I can see it in both your eyes. There’s still something there, and you know it.”

Bruce swallowed hard, the weight of Gordon’s words pressing on him. After a moment, he admitted, “I love her.” The air was thick with honesty.

Gordon studied Bruce for a moment, then sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, when you find someone like Marie, you don’t let that go. Not for anything.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Gordon cut him off, his voice low but firm. “We always make it harder than it needs to be. You think this stuff just falls into place? Hell no. You’ve got to put in the work. You care about her, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Bruce said, frustration edging into his voice.

Gordon’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Then show her. You don’t get many shots at something like this, kid. Don’t screw it up.”

Bruce nodded, the weight of Gordon’s words hitting him. He knew he was right.

Gordon leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Fight for her. She’s worth it.”

Without another word, Bruce pushed off from the railing and moved through the crowd, weaving between guests and waitstaff. As he neared, he caught sight of Marie, her face lighting up the moment their eyes met. She excused herself from the group she’d been chatting with and walked toward him.

“Bruce,” she greeted with that warm, playful tone he loved. “Looks like you survived Gordon’s pep talk.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Just barely.”

Marie chuckled, the sound sending a rush of warmth through him. “I have to say, this party is a lot more fun than I expected.”

“Yeah, well…” Bruce began, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew he needed to say more—everything he’d just talked about with Gordon—but as she looked at him, the words got stuck in his throat. Her smile was warm and genuine, the creases by her eyes deepening with the sincerity of it. It was the kind of smile that made him forget everything else for a moment.

He chickened out. “Uh, did you try the fried shrimp cocktail yet?” he asked as a poor attempt to pivot. “I had them use Panko breadcrumbs because I know they’re your favorite.”

Marie burst out laughing, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’ve already stashed a handful in my purse for later.”

Bruce’s face lit up, but before he could respond, a blonde socialite in a slinky red dress sidled up beside him, her gaze laser-focused on him, “Well, if it isn’t Bruce Wayne!” she purred, sidling up to him with a flirtatious smile. “You still haven’t gotten back to me about that dinner invitation I sent.”

Bruce turned, forcing a polite smile. “Hey, Tiffany. Sorry about that. Work has been... busy lately.”

“Busy?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “You must be the busiest billionaire in Gotham. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “No, not at all. Just juggling a lot right now. You know how it is.”

Tiffany stepped closer, a teasing glint in her eye. “Well, I’d hate to think I’m not a priority. How about we make up for lost time and grab dinner this week?”

Bruce shifted his weight slightly, caught between courtesy and discomfort. “That sounds nice, but I really can’t commit to anything right now. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“In that case, would you do me the honor of a dance?” She responded. 

Bruce tensed, stealing a glance at Marie, who raised an eyebrow, amused at watching Bruce squirm.

Tiffany turned to Marie, her smile sugary sweet but laced with sharpness. “I hope you don’t mind, darling. It’s just one dance, after all. You two aren’t… together, right?”

Marie casually placed her hand on her hip, her expression calm and nonchalant as the socialite practically draped herself over Bruce, eager for a dance. “We’re not,” Marie said coolly, her tone dismissive. “You two go ahead. Have fun.”

Bruce shot her a quick glance, his eyes pleading for rescue—an unmistakable look that only she could interpret as help me.

But Marie, enjoying the moment far too much, simply smiled, raising her eyebrows as if to say you’re on your own.

With Marie’s calm demeanor offering no way out, Bruce forced a polite smile, suppressing a groan. “Alright,” he sighed, offering his hand to the socialite. “Just one.”

Marie bit her lip, barely stifling a laugh as the woman eagerly pulled Bruce toward the dance floor, leaving him to navigate the awkward situation on his own.

As he led her to the dance floor, Bruce felt a mix of obligation and disappointment swirling in his chest.

As they began to dance, he tried to engage in small talk with Tiffany, but his mind kept drifting back to Marie. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, and a pang of regret hit him as he noticed the slight furrow of her brow.

The music swelled, and he moved through the dance with practiced ease, but it felt hollow. With every spin and turn, he wanted to be with Marie, to share this moment with her. But the socialite kept chatting, her laughter ringing in his ears as he forced himself to nod along, all the while stealing glances back at Marie.

Marie stood there, watching them dance. At first, a small smirk tugged at her lips, amused by the sight of Bruce being his usual charming, polished self. It was almost funny watching him try to navigate Tiffany’s relentless flirtation. Any girl would be lucky to dance with Bruce Wayne—Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, tall, handsome, and effortlessly charismatic.

But as the dance went on, her amusement faded, replaced by a dull ache she hadn’t expected. The way Tiffany’s hand rested on his shoulder, the easy smile Bruce wore, even though Marie knew he was just being polite—it all stirred something deeper within her. A part of her hated seeing him like that, so close to another woman, even if it was just a casual dance.

They were work partners again, and she really did enjoy that. Working with Batman was exhilarating, and their dynamic had always been strong, even when things were... complicated. But if she was being honest, it wasn’t the case-solving or the late-night stakeouts that made her heart race. It was being around Bruce. Just Bruce.

Watching him hold Tiffany, even in something as simple as a formal waltz, brought back memories of how he used to hold her. There was an intimacy to it, one that she missed more than she’d let herself admit.

Without another thought, she turned sharply, slipping away into the crowd, needing space from the sight that unsettled her more than she cared to acknowledge.

When the song finally ended, he turned to look for her, only to find that she had vanished. The tightness in his chest deepened, and he felt a surge of frustration. Where did she go?

As soon as the dance ended, Bruce weaved through the party, a faint sense of unease growing in his chest. He spotted Gordon near the bar again and quickly made his way over.

“Have you seen Marie?” Bruce asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the edge in his voice.

Gordon looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “She’s probably slipped away to somewhere quieter. You know how she is with these events.”

Bruce nodded, already turning to leave. He scanned the deck and the various corners of the yacht, but she was nowhere to be found in the bustling crowd. The tension in his chest tightened as he slipped through the more secluded areas of the ship, away from the noise and chatter.

Finally, he found her. She was standing alone on a private deck, leaning against the railing, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her figure as the waves rolled gently below. The sound of the party was distant here, replaced by the quiet hum of the sea.

He approached slowly, his voice low and smooth. “There you are.”

Marie didn’t turn to face him, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Needed some air,” she replied, her tone casual but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Bruce stepped closer, concern etched on his brow. “You didn’t have to disappear.”

Finally turning to him, she crossed her arms, a playful smirk forming. “What, so I could watch you twirl with the bitch in the red dress?”

“The bitch in the red dress,” he began, trying to sound more at ease than he felt, “is a woman I’d keep up with casually—at least as far as the social scene goes. You know, the kind of thing I have to do to keep up appearances... keep the playboy image alive.” He gave a casual shrug, trying to dismiss any notion of it being anything more than that.

Marie tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Right,” she teased, her tone dripping with humor. “Keeping up appearances... Must’ve been so hard to sleep around with all that ‘work’ you had to do. I’m sure it was such a sacrifice.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Bruce felt the heat rise in his cheeks, clearly caught off guard.

He gave her a mock glare. “You’re making it sound worse than it was. I was seeing Tiffany before I met you, I might add.”

Marie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, thank you for clarifying, Bruce. I still didn’t want to watch you dance with her, though.”

“You told me to,” he shot back, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” she quipped, a playful challenge in her voice.

Bruce joined her at the railing, leaning casually, the cool night air wrapping around them as they stared out at the water. The sounds of the party faded into a distant hum.

“You know,” Marie said, breaking the silence, her tone thoughtful, “I was just thinking about that first night we met. At the GCPD gala you hosted at Wayne Manor. That was the first time I actually met you as Bruce Wayne—didn't have a clue I’d already crossed paths with Batman.”

Bruce turned to her, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “I think about that night more often than I’d like to admit.”

She paused, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “I’m starting to think you planned that whole event just to meet me.”

Bruce laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

She scrunched her nose playfully. “What can I say? I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes.”

“Look, I couldn’t exactly ask you out as Batman. So I needed a way to meet you as... me. The fundraiser was my shot. I figured it was the best chance to sweep you off your feet—without the mask, without all the shadows. Just me, Bruce.” He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Her eyes locked onto his, curiosity flaring. “It’s kind of flattering, you know, that you threw that party just to ask me out.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Just like how I threw this whole party just to see you tonight.”

Her breath caught slightly at his words. “You could’ve just called, you know,” she said, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

“I have been,” he replied, his voice sincere.

When silence lingered, he took a deep breath, laying it all out. “I miss you.”

The words hung in the air before Marie responded.

“You see me at work,” she said, glancing away toward the water, her voice tinged with sadness.

“I miss you—everything about you,” he confessed, his heart laid bare before her. The weight of his words were heavy and electric. “I love having you back as my partner, but I miss having the rest of you too.”

The world around them faded into a blur, both lost in the gravity of their shared history. Bruce took a small step back, cautious not to overwhelm her with the depth of his feelings.

Sensing that Marie wanted to move on from the subject, Bruce said, “By the way, your necklace is beautiful,” his eyes drawn to the delicate piece resting against her collarbone. The blue gemstone caught the soft glow of the lights, shimmering like the depths of the ocean.

“Thanks. I picked it out myself,” she replied, a shy smile flickering to life on her lips.

“You always have an eye for the best ones,” he said, genuine admiration lacing his tone.

“Not when it comes to men,” she shot back, smirking, and Bruce feigned a dramatic gasp.

“Hey now, that was low,” he teased, laughter spilling from his lips, but it was a fleeting moment of levity.

She laughed before softening for a moment, "It’s actually been nice working with you again.”

Bruce smirked, catching the shift. "I’ll take that as a compliment. I agree."

Marie rolled her eyes, teasing. "If I’ve got to have a partner, I suppose I’m glad it’s you. Though sometimes, I wonder if I’d be better off going solo. You know, like a Lone Wolf."

She smirked before continuing, "Who knows, maybe I’ll throw on some black leather and start my own vigilante gig."

"Oh yeah?" Bruce crossed his arms, leaning in a little closer. "You’re sounding pretty damn confident. You really think you’d be better off working cases by yourself?"

Marie crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. "The Red Lotus case would’ve been wrapped up by now if you hadn’t swooped in at the Billiard’s Club and almost gotten my nose broken."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sorry again about that." He paused, then added with a teasing grin, "But in my defense, you could’ve ducked faster when Zucco threw the punch."

Marie scoffed, leaning further against the railing. "If you hadn’t broken in there, Zucco would’ve given me the information we needed to catch Maroni. Rookie mistake, Wayne."

Bruce leaned in slightly, his gaze steady on hers. "So, you think you could do my job better?"

"Better? Hell yeah," she said, tapping her chin as if seriously considering it. "Step one: stop with all the brooding. Step two: maybe ditch the cape. Little dramatic, don’t you think?"

Bruce chuckled. "The cape’s staying. It's fucking iconic."

Marie gave him a look, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Iconic? Please. I'd pull it off better than you, no contest."

They laughed together, a sound that felt natural and easy. It had been so long since they'd just talked like this—no cases, no weight of the world pressing down on them. Just them. Bruce found himself smiling, more at the feeling of the moment than anything else.

Bruce glanced at her, his grin lingering. "You know what? You’d look sexy in the suit."

Marie raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Sexy? Now you’re just trying to charm me, Wayne."

He smirked, shrugging. "Just saying. Gotham wouldn’t stand a chance."

Marie shook her head, her grin wide. "You wouldn’t stand a chance."

For a moment, they both paused, realizing how good it felt to be laughing, teasing each other again. It was like slipping back into something comfortable, something real—something they’d both missed.

Bruce leaned back slightly, still watching her. "It’s nice, you know? Talking like this again."

Marie’s smile softened. "Yeah. It really is."

She shifted her weight against the rail before asking, “So, do you have any other guests to mingle with, or am I hogging your time?” Her gaze shifted away from him, a defensive wall rising as if she could distance herself from the truth swirling between them. The air thickened once more as she grew serious again.

Bruce leaned in closer, the sincerity in his voice dropping to a whisper. “Honestly? You’re the only one I want to be with tonight. Everyone else can wait.”

Her eyes narrowed, skepticism creeping into her expression. “Bruce…”

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce went for it, “Marie, I don’t want to just be partners again. I want more.”

Her expression hardened, the walls around her heart building higher. “Bruce, I don’t want to get caught up in this again. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” he echoed, stepping closer, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What about it is complicated? I’m in love with you, Marie.”

His confession hung heavy in the air, bold and raw. His resolve remained unwavering as he stood there, determined.

A lump formed in her throat as she searched his eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but all she found was honesty. “You can’t just throw that around. Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me?” Her voice trembled.

“Then say it back,” he urged gently, desperation flashing in his eyes. “If you don’t love me, I’ll back off. We can just be work partners, nothing more.”

The silence pressed down on them, thick and unyielding, as Bruce stood there, grappling with everything he wanted to say. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke, but there was an urgency to it, something raw.

Bruce’s voice was steady but raw, each word heavy. “You know, every damn time I’m out there—every time I’m in the line of fire—I think of you. You’re in my head, Marie. I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

Marie’s breath caught, her heartbeat quickening as the weight of his words settled over her. She swallowed, her eyes dropping for a second, her mind swirling with the memories they shared—the nights at the docks, the chaos at the Iceberg Lounge, that first kiss in the shadows of Wayne Manor. “Bruce, it’s not that simple. There’s so much at risk.”

His eyes flashed, and he took a step closer, voice rough with frustration. “You think I don’t get it? Every fucking night I leave that cave, I know what’s at stake. But you—” he broke off, jaw clenched, as he forced himself to take a breath, softening just a bit. “I need you.”

He didn’t break eye contact, and in that moment, there was nothing between them but truth.

The air between them was charged, heavy with everything unsaid. Her lips parted as if to answer, but the words tangled in her throat, caught in the push and pull of fear and longing. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stared at him, her mind racing.

Bruce, almost instinctively, lifted his hand to her face, his fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her eyes flutter shut. His touch was warm, grounding her, silently urging her to speak. She leaned into his palm, a deep breath filling her lungs as she tried to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

"I did," she whispered, the confession hanging between them like a fragile thread about to snap. "But I don’t anymore."

The words fell from her lips, each one cutting through him like a blade. Her hand reached up, gently but deliberately removing his from her face, breaking their connection. The absence of her warmth left him cold.

Bruce’s heart shattered at her words, the weight of her rejection hitting him harder than he’d anticipated. He fought the urge to flinch, his breath catching in his chest. For a moment, he just stared at her, hoping there was some misstep, some misunderstanding. But the cold finality in her eyes told him otherwise.

His hands flexed into fists at his sides, the raw edge of hurt palpable in his voice as he spoke, quieter than before, almost restrained. “Understood.”

The word barely made it out of his throat, but he couldn't trust himself to say anything more. His mind was spinning, thoughts racing between anger, sadness, and disbelief.

Without waiting for a response, he took a step back, distancing himself, the overwhelming sting of rejection like a punch to the gut.

"I'll see you in a few days," he said, his voice flatter now, deliberately formal, his gaze already shifting away. The vulnerability he'd shown moments ago was locked behind his defenses again, but it was shaky, and he knew it.

“To connect on the Red Lotus case,” he added, almost mechanically. Business as usual—at least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself. But inside, his heart was a mess of pain and confusion.

His body moved like it was on autopilot, turning away from her as the lump in his throat tightened. His hand shot up, running through his hair in frustration, as if the physical act could somehow scrub the hurt away.

He wanted to be angry, to shut down and walk away clean, but the sadness clung to him, weighing him down. He couldn’t be mad at her, not really—she had her reasons. But that didn’t make the heartbreak any easier to swallow.

As he took another step away, his voice cracked just slightly, betraying the control he was desperately holding onto. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Those words were hollow, and he knew it. He wanted to say more, to ask why, to beg her to change her mind, to say she didn't mean it—but he couldn’t. He was Bruce Wayne, the one who always kept his cool, who never let the mask slip for too long. He couldn’t risk unraveling in front of her.

He kept walking, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart pounded in his chest, a storm of emotions crashing against the walls he was so desperately trying to rebuild. He could feel the tears threatening to spill over but swallowed them down, his jaw tightening.

The night around him felt suffocating, and every fiber of him wanted to scream, to let out the frustration, the heartbreak. But all he could do was put one foot in front of the other and force himself away from her.

He heard Marie call after him, faintly, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not now. Not when everything felt so raw and exposed. If he turned around, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together.

But then, like a lifeline, she yelled after him again, her voice more urgent. “Bruce—wait!”

His footsteps faltered, his whole body tense. He stopped in his tracks, fighting the urge to turn back, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

And then, the words that nearly broke him all over again: “I love you.”

For a moment, he didn’t process it. It was everything he’d been longing to hear, but it felt so surreal, so sudden after everything that had just passed between them.

He spun slowly to face her, the shock rippling across his features. For a moment, all the emotions he had fought to bury surged back up, overwhelming him. And then he saw her—standing there against the railing, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, her figure tense but still. 

The night air tousled her hair, and her eyes, wide and vulnerable, locked onto his. She was gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded, her knuckles white against the dark metal. Her lips trembled slightly, the weight of her confession sitting in the space between them.

“I... I love you,” she repeated, her voice unsteady but resolute. The rawness in her gaze mirrored the same emotion he'd shown earlier—exposed, fragile, but undeniably real.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and her vulnerability struck him with the force of a tidal wave. For the first time, he truly saw her—open, terrified, and yet standing tall in that moment of truth.

The moonlight caught the sheen in her eyes, the slight quiver in her lower lip, but her words, though trembling, didn’t falter. They were full of conviction, and it hit him just how close he'd come to walking away from something that still held hope.

Bruce could barely process it. His mind was still swimming in the pain of rejection, but now there was hope—a light in the darkness. Slowly, he took a step toward her, like he was testing the ground beneath him, afraid that if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter.

“I’ve loved you this whole time,” she continued, her voice catching.

Bruce blinked, his heart pounding in his chest, trying to catch up with everything that was happening.

Her admission was like a balm on the wound, slowly healing the raw edges of his heartbreak. As he stepped closer, the sadness that had weighed him down moments before began to lift, replaced by something fragile but real—hope.

His voice was barely audible as he said, “Then why did you say that you don’t?”

Marie took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “Because it’s easier to be mad at you than to face how much I care. How much I’ve always cared.” She felt her composure faltering, her vulnerability laying bare before him. “You’re Batman. You live in danger every single day. I can’t bear the thought of losing you to the darkness that surrounds you.”

Her breath caught as fear and longing wrestled for control. “And then I start thinking, what if we try again, and what if it doesn’t work out? What if we’re just two people caught in a cycle of pain and heartbreak?”

He swallowed hard, the words pressing at the back of his throat as he looked at her, standing there with her heart exposed. He took a deep breath, stepping toward her, his voice thick with emotion. “I know what’s at stake,” Bruce said, his voice low, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “I feel it every night I step out there.”

The silence returned, heavy and thick. Marie felt her walls crumbling, and she wrestled with the chaos of her feelings.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t go through that again.”

“Then don’t lose me,” Bruce said, stepping closer again, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’m standing right here. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for her, but he held back, the weight of the moment pressing him to hold onto whatever restraint he had left. “Say you love me again, and I’m not letting you go this time.”

Marie’s eyes softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she finally let herself speak the words that had been swirling in her chest for so long. “I love you.”

As soon as the words left her lips, he closed the distance between them in an instant, his expression shifting from longing to determination. He captured her lips in a fierce kiss, pinning her against the railing, the world around them dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was the two of them.

Their lips met in a rush of urgency and desire, a wild mingling of pent-up emotions that had been simmering for far too long. Marie melted into him, every worry and doubt dissipating as she surrendered to the moment, losing herself in the heat of their connection.

When Bruce finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, their breath mingling, heavy and uneven. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a promise. "Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to be scared anymore."

Marie’s heart pounded against her chest as she stared into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, the fear in her heart was eclipsed by something else—hope, love, and the undeniable pull between them.

Bruce kissed her again—this time with even more intensity, a fierce declaration of everything they’d been holding back. He pressed her harder against the rail, his lips moving against hers like a vow. It wasn’t gentle; it was urgent, desperate, as though he was claiming her, body and soul.

As the kiss deepened, their hands explored—his fingers tangled in her hair, while she traced the strong line of his jaw. They lost themselves in the moment, time slipping away until a soft creak shattered the intensity.

The door to the balcony swung open, and Alfred stood there, eyes wide with surprise. Realizing the scene before him, he quickly averted his gaze, the faintest smile creeping onto his face as he cleared his throat. “Master Wayne,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with amusement, “the Mayor of Gotham has arrived. He’s asking for you.”

Bruce sighed, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet Marie’s gaze. The heat of their connection still lingered in the air, but he softened as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Tell him I’ll be right there, Alfred,” he replied, his voice gravelly, laced with unspent desire.

Alfred nodded, keeping his eyes respectfully averted as he discreetly retreated, closing the door behind him. The charged silence returned, thick with the promise of what was to come.

Bruce leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Marie’s ear as he growled low, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ll be back,” he promised, his voice laced with a mix of desire and vulnerability that made her toes curl. “Stay right here,” he murmured, the words carrying a darker undertone that sent a shiver down her spine.

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her neck, savoring the warmth of her skin before reluctantly stepping away. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, his fingers lingering for a moment as he tried to regain his composure and pull himself together.

He glanced back at Marie, his gaze softening for a heartbeat, before taking a deep breath and turning to head out to meet the Mayor, his steps heavy with the tension of leaving her behind.

The door clicked shut, leaving Marie alone, her mind spinning in the aftermath of the heated moment. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, still swollen from the force of his kiss, her pulse racing.

Her thoughts spiraled. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, not tonight. But being with Bruce felt so natural, so right, like coming home after being gone for far too long. The way he kissed her—fierce, unapologetic, and so full of emotion—it was everything she had feared but everything she needed.

She loved him.

She loved Bruce Wayne, and it wasn’t just the man he was underneath the mask. It wasn’t the mystery or the danger that clung to him. It was his strength, his vulnerability, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in a world filled with chaos.

The thought of losing him terrified her, but the idea of not being with him was worse.

Marie shook her head, pacing the small, private balcony in small circles. Every time she told herself she needed to be rational, that she had to protect herself from heartbreak, the memory of his touch, the feel of his lips against hers, shattered that resolve.

She couldn’t deny it anymore. She was in love with Bruce, wholly and irrevocably, and no matter what danger lay ahead, she was ready to face it—with him.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, as Marie’s heart beat louder in her ears. The door suddenly opened, and Bruce stepped back in. The intense look from earlier returned, but now, a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Before Marie could even react, Bruce was standing in front of her, pulling her into his arms with a quiet intensity. He kissed her, hard and deep, as if he couldn’t wait another second. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

When they finally broke for air, Bruce’s forehead rested against hers, his breath coming fast. He looked at her, his eyes dark with something fierce. “I love you,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “I love you, and I swear to God, I’m not going anywhere now. Not for anything.”

She grinned, feeling the warmth of his words seep into her very core. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice tinged with both affection and disbelief that they had finally arrived at this moment.

Bruce kissed her again, softer this time, but just as intense. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made her heart swell, and he tightened his grip on her, cradling her like she was something precious.

Slowly, he carried her out of the room and down the hallway toward a stateroom.

They barely made it through the doorway before Bruce kicked the door shut behind them, pressing Marie against it as they continued kissing. His hands roamed her back, feeling the softness of her, while her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of him, all of him.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough with desire. "I’ve wanted to be with you like this, to feel you like this…"

Marie’s heart raced as she kissed him back with equal passion, her breath catching at the intensity of it all. She had never felt so alive, so consumed by love and desire all at once. 

The heat between them was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. Every kiss, every touch, was filled with unspoken promises, with the depth of emotion they had both been too scared to admit until now.

Bruce pulled her closer, his hands firm but gentle as he carried her further into the room, laying her down on the bed with careful precision. He gently lowered himself onto her, their bodies entwined. A sense of peace washed over them, a moment suspended in time.

She could feel the hard contours of his body pressing into her, the heat radiating off him igniting every nerve ending.

Their mouths met again, a fierce collision that spoke volumes. As they kissed, the longing that had built over months poured out of them, their desperation palpable in the way they clung to each other.

Bruce’s hands roamed along the curve of her back, his touch warm and possessive as he pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a long-lost puzzle. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, anchoring herself against him as if he were her only lifeline.

She could feel the strength in his muscles beneath her fingertips, the way he radiated warmth, and it made her heart race.

They lost themselves in each other, reveling in the heat, the urgency, and the overwhelming love that pulsed between them like a heartbeat—a reminder that they were meant to be, despite the chaos that surrounded them.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Bruce and Marie pulled away, their breaths mingling in the charged air. Reality began to seep back in, and the weight of the world slowly returned. Bruce’s eyes softened, still filled with emotion as he gently kissed her forehead.

“Hey,” he murmured, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “We have ice cream waiting for us in the butler's kitchen.”

Marie chuckled softly, the remnants of their passion still lingering in the air, and nodded. “Ice cream sounds perfect right now.”

They walked hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors of Wayne Manor, the sounds of the gala fading behind them. As they entered the butler's kitchen, a comforting scent of vanilla wafted through the air, mixing with the coolness of the space. Bruce opened the freezer and pulled out a container, his expression shifting to playful mischief.

“I have both of your favorites, chocolate fudge or classic vanilla. What are you feeling tonight?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Chocolate fudge, obviously,” she replied, grinning as she hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs slightly.

As he scooped the ice cream into two bowls, the earlier intensity of their conversation lingered like a warm blanket around them. Marie watched him, her heart swelling at the sight of him in this light—vulnerable yet strong, a man she had long admired.

Bruce stepped in front of Marie, standing between her legs as she sat on the counter. He set the bowls of ice cream down beside her, his hands resting casually on the counter’s edge, close to her hips. His tall frame filled the small space, creating a sense of closeness between them. Marie, her legs gently swinging off the side of the counter, scooped a spoonful of ice cream, her lips curling into a soft smile.

The kitchen was quiet, the faint hum of the night outside surrounding them. Bruce’s gaze stayed on her face, noticing the way the dim light softened her features—the relaxed curve of her lips, the subtle warmth in her eyes. He hadn’t touched his ice cream yet, too caught up in the rare moment of peace between them, the closeness they rarely shared like this.

Marie absentmindedly brushed her fingers against his wrist as she took another bite, the gesture light but intimate, and the silence between them felt comfortable, as if they didn’t need words to fill the space.

“I was thinking,” Marie began playfully, “If you gave me some more time, I would’ve figured out you were Batmanon my own.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh really? And how exactly would you have figured that out?”

She leaned closer to him, a teasing grin on her lips. “I don’t know, maybe all the late nights and the brooding? Or the way you magically disappear whenever Gotham is in trouble. I mean, come on, it’s not rocket science.”

Bruce chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Okay, fair point.” 

Bruce stepped closer, positioning himself between Marie’s legs as she sat on the kitchen counter. He placed the bowls of ice cream beside her and leaned in, his hands resting lightly on the counter by her hips. The small space between them felt intimate, the night’s quiet hum settling around them like a comforting blanket.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice low. "You know, I almost told you so many times. About Batman. About everything."

Marie paused mid-bite, her spoon hanging in the air as she looked at him. "You did?"

Bruce nodded, his expression serious. "That night at the docks... I thought I was going to die. I kept thinking, if something happened to me, I couldn't leave you in the dark. I didn't want you to never know."

Her eyes softened, understanding replacing the initial surprise. "You really thought you were going to die?"

Bruce exhaled slowly, his gaze intense. "Yeah. I had to consider it. And more than anything, I didn't want to go without you knowing the truth. Keeping it from you always felt... wrong."

Marie let his words settle, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She reached out, her fingers brushing his forearm. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she rubbed his arm slowly.

She took a long breath, her voice gentle yet filled with weight. “You know,” she said, breaking the quiet between them, “when you were bleeding out on the docks, and when I saw Alfred patching you up at your house… I haven’t felt that helpless since I was a kid, watching my dad die.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted, brow furrowing, wanting her to continue.

She looked away, caught in the memory. “When he got shot while working a case. I remember visiting him in the hospital after it happened. He was hooked up to all these machines, tubes everywhere, and I just stood there... frozen.”

She took a breath before going on, “I was a kid, but I knew what it meant. Seeing him so weak, lying there... I felt powerless. I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to go home without him, but I had to. The fear of losing him, of walking out of that hospital without my dad, it was paralyzing.”

Marie paused, the silence heavy between them, before she looked up at Bruce, her eyes clouded with the memory. “And when I saw you... lying there at the docks, barely holding on... it was like being back in that hospital room. That same helpless feeling all over again. Except this time, I wasn’t a kid. When you pulled your mask up, and I saw that you were Bruce, my Bruce… I was watching the most important person in my life slip away. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

She set her ice cream bowl aside, her entire focus on him now. The vulnerability in her voice made Bruce’s chest tighten.

He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch soft. “I never wanted to put you through something like that.” He whispered to her.

Her hand came up to meet his, resting his palm against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the warmth of his touch. “I’ve seen you take on so much. You were always this invincible figure to me, even when I didn’t know who was behind the mask.”

His thumb rubbed her cheek as she continued, “But that night... I realized you weren’t invincible. And it terrified me.” Her voice faltered, her eyes searching his for understanding. “I realized I could lose my work partner, and the man I love. It felt like the world was closing in. That’s why I ended things with you. I didn’t want to feel that pain again.”

Bruce’s thumb paused, his forehead almost touching hers. His voice was low, laced with emotion. “You don’t know how much I needed you, Marie. Every time I put on that suit, I thought I was protecting you by keeping you out of it. But the truth is, I don’t want to do this without you. I need you by my side—whether I’m wearing the mask or not.”

Her heart pounded at his words, the intensity of his honesty cutting through her. He cupped her face fully now, his thumbs brushing gently against her skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Marie. I swear. Whatever happens, I’ll be right here. We’ll face it all together. No more secrets. No more running.”

Marie’s breath hitched, her forehead leaning against his, their closeness grounding her. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice almost breaking. “Promise me you won’t keep anything from me again.”

“I promise,” Bruce whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “You and me—no matter what.”

Marie opened her eyes, her gaze unwavering but soft. “I love you, Bruce.”

A slow, tender smile spread across Bruce’s lips, his usual guarded demeanor melting away in her presence. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a gentleness that spoke of everything unsaid. “I love you too, Marie.”

Marie smiled, the weight on her chest lifting. “Here’s to no more secrets,” she said, her voice light yet filled with meaning.

Bruce chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across her lips before resting his hand on the counter beside her. “To no more secrets,” he echoed, his voice steady, a vow to her.

They clinked their ice cream bowls together, the simple gesture carrying the weight of everything they’d shared. It wasn’t just a toast—it was a new beginning. A promise that from now on, they’d face whatever came together, with no more lies, no more running.

[sequinsmile-x]

Reprise

Aaron gets a call, and it feels like nothing short of history repeating itself.

-x-

Hi besties,

So, I recently realised all of my hurt comfort lately has been Aaron comforting Emily...so then I wrote this.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Minor Emily Prentiss whump, pregnancy, minor injuries

Words: 3.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He keeps getting interrupted.

Paperwork was the most boring part of his job, but one of the most important. If they got it wrong, if even the tiniest detail was missed, then it could be used as a technicality by a defence lawyer. An error that could lead to a dangerous individual being back on the streets, which was something Aaron didn’t want to weigh on his or anyone on his team's shoulders. He’d been there. Had felt guilty over mistakes he’d made before, and any assurances that he’s human, that he’s bound to make mistakes occasionally, would always fall flat. 

He was reviewing casework, desperate to get the pile of files in front of him finished so he could go home and spend the evening with his wife and kids, but every time he was getting somewhere someone would knock on his door to ask a question. A distraction that could lead to a mistake that meant he found himself reading the same pages again and again, not making any progress as the clock ticked closer and closer towards his little girl’s bedtime. 

He’d already sent Emily a text. Had let her know he was running late and to have dinner without him but that he’d be home before the kids went to bed. If he wasn’t away on a case, bath and bedtime were his jobs, now more than ever because of Emily’s pregnancy. Not only was she struggling to kneel on the floor next to the bath these days, but she was exhausted all the time. The four years that had passed since she’d had Mae were enough for her to have forgotten how rough pregnancy was, especially now she’d just tipped over into her third trimester. 

He knew if he called her, if he told her he’d be even later than he thought, that she wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d say that she understood and she’d hand the phone over to Mae, would encourage the four-year-old to speak to him over the phone so he could at least say goodnight to her. Then, when he did get home, she’d kiss him hello and offer to make him a drink whilst he went to Mae’s bedroom to kiss her forehead and just watch her for a minute or two. Her face relaxed and her cheek pressed into the pillow as she hugged her favourite toy to her chest. Both she and Jack, and the little boy Emily was currently pregnant with, were a reminder that good things existed. That he had the life he once thought he’d never get a chance at again. 

There’s a knock on his office door and he sighs, shaking his head as he calls out for the person to come in, his pen already placed down on his desk.

At this rate, he’d get home to everyone already in bed. 

“You could look happier to see me,” Dave says, smirking at him as he leans against the doorframe, “I am your best friend after all.” 

“Emily is my best friend,” he corrects, leaning back in his chair. 

“She’s your wife.” 

Aaron smiles despite his irritation at being interrupted, “She’s my best friend too,” he says, his smile getting wider when Dave furrows his brow, “Have you ever thought this might be why none of your marriages worked out?”

He places his hand on his chest in mock hurt, “You know, you used to be a lot nicer before you married Emily,” he jokes, and they both laugh. 

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted me?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at him, “Or did you just come in to ruin my flow again?” 

“I’ve finished last month's budget reports for you,” he says, pulling them from behind his back and placing them on his desk, “All you need to do is sign them.” 

Aaron looks up at him, “I’m not going to unknowingly sign off on the department paying for your next book tour am I?” 

Dave chuckles and shrugs, “Guess you’re going to have to see how much you trust me,” he jokes, “You should just go home, Aaron. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow.” 

He sighs and nods, “I know. I wanted to make more progress than I have. Cruz has been breathing down my neck.” 

“You’ve got two kids and a pregnant wife, who happens to head up his Counterterrorism unit, at home. He’s not going to begrudge you going home,” he looks at his watch, “Especially when it’s already an hour past the end of your day.” 

Aaron knows he’s right, but old habits died hard. Even now he found himself getting sucked into work, although never as badly as he had when he was married to Haley. In some ways, he found that Emily's understanding of his job in the way she did helped, because if she ever asked him to take a step back it made him question himself, made him do as she asked of him. He wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t proud that Haley asking him had never been enough, but he knew it meant that he’d learnt from his past. That he hadn’t brought the mistakes from his first marriage into his second one. 

“You’re right, I’ll-” he’s cut off when he hears his phone ring, the vibration of it against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office. He frowns at the withheld number and picks it up, sending Dave an apologetic smile as he answers, “Aaron Hotchner.” 

“Hi, Mr Hotchner, I’m Lisa, I’m an ER nurse at Stafford Hospital…” 

Everything slows down around him, his chest stuttering as time moves like syrup, every second sticking in the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe as he tightens his grip on his phone, surprised he doesn’t crush it as the nurse confirms what he already knows she’s going to say. 

“Your wife and children were brought in this evening after being involved in a car accident.” 

___

Emily wasn’t answering her phone. It doesn’t even ring. 

He calls her. Again and again and again and she doesn’t answer. Each time it goes straight to voicemail the sound of her voice on her personalised message makes him ache, his shoulders so tight as he drives he worries they may pop out of the joints. 

He tries again, presses the speed dial in his car but it goes to voicemail again. Her voice ringing out through the speakers around him. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Emily Prentiss, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Em, call me back, please,” he begs, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him this might be the last time he hears her voice, that this will replace whatever she’d said to him when they left for work that morning in their separate cars, “I’m…please answer the phone. I love you.” 

It’s familiar. Too familiar. His hands tight on the steering wheel as he’s desperately trying to get to the woman he loves. Fear greeting him like an old friend as it breathes down his neck, its hand about to reach out for him and grab him by the shoulder. He tries to tell himself that it’s okay, that she and the kids are fine, but he can’t stop thinking that she hasn’t answered her phone. 

She would answer if everything was okay. She’d call him if everything was okay. 

He doesn’t remember a second of the journey by the time he makes it to the hospital. He flashes his badge at a security guard who tells him he can’t park where he’s pulled up, not caring if it’s an abuse of power. Every single cell in his body vibrating with fear and pre-emptive grief and guilt. He should have been with them. If he’d just gone home when he should have he would have been with them. 

He walks up to the desk in the ER, grateful there isn’t a line of people. He’s already speaking to the nurse before she looks up at him, all of the details he had spilling out of him in a second, words tripping themselves as he desperately gets them out.

“I got a call about my wife - Emily Prentiss, she’s pregnant. And my children Jack and Mae Hotchner. I was told they were in a car accident.” 

“Okay,” she says, looking at the computer, “Let me just check my system for them…” She drifts off as she types, and he hates how good he is at his job. Hates that he sees the very brief furrowing of her brows before she smiles up at him, “Did you say Prentiss?” 

“Yes,” he replies, his voice barely recognisable even to himself. 

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t see that we have any patients in the ER with that name, and I can’t see your children’s names either.” 

He grips the counter, his fingers pressed against cheap wood as he holds himself up, “What do you mean they aren’t on the system?” He demands, shouting at the young woman in front of him even if he doesn’t mean to, his desperation reaching an all time high. He finds himself wishing he’d taken up Dave’s offer of driving him here so that he wouldn’t be alone for this.

“It could mean a couple of things, it could mean they’ve already been discharged,” she swallows thickly, “Or, I’m so sorry but it could mean-”

“Dad?”

He turns around so fast at the sound of his son’s voice that he pulls his neck, but the pain that flares in it barely registers. All the anger and grief floods out of him in an instant the moment he sets eyes on him, on them, standing just a few feet away. Emily is standing next to Jack, her arm around his shoulders and the other arm securing Mae to her hip, the little girl’s face pressed against her neck. The only visible sign of injury is a bandage on Emily’s forehead, the stark white of the material a sight that is a little too familiar for his liking. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, making it to their sides in a few seconds, pulling them into his arms. His whole world in his embrace before he pulls back, dropping a kiss to Jack’s forehead and then turning to kiss his little girl’s and then finally his wife, “I thought…you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know,” she says, unwrapping her arm from around Jack’s shoulder to cup Aaron’s cheek, her skin warm against his, “I’m so sorry baby. It was broken in the crash. Couldn’t even get it to turn on,” she looks over at the desk, a flash of irritation in her eyes, “And they wouldn’t let me call you myself.” 

“And you’re…” he looks her up and down now he’s closer and then at the kids, looking for cuts and injuries that weren’t there. 

“We’re okay. If I’d been in the car alone, if I wasn’t pregnant, I probably wouldn’t have come to the hospital,” she assures him, her hand slipping down to his neck, her thumb tracing back and forth over his jaw, “We all got looked at. We have some bruises from the seatbelts, and I hit my head on the steering wheel. But the doctors were happy to discharge us.” 

“You’re okay?” He asks, breathless, as if he’d run all the way here. He places his hand on her bump and the baby moves, the breath Aaron sucks in rattling back and forth between his ribs, “And the baby?” 

“He’s okay too,” Emily assures him, adjusting her hold on Mae. She turns to look at her, obvious fear shining in their daughter’s eyes and she tickles her to draw out a laugh, “We saw baby brother on the screen, huh?” 

Mae nods, her excitement at being a big sister overtaking everything else, “We saw his peni-”

“They said everything looks good. Told me what to look out for that would mean I had to come back in, and I have to arrange a check up with my OBGYN in a couple of days. We got new pictures,” Emily says, cutting over her toddler, not missing the poorly hidden smiles of amusement from some of the people sitting in the waiting room, and the horror on some of the other faces at a four-year-old knowing the anatomical terms for intimate body parts. She presses her lips together and looks at her husband, “I can show you when we get home?” 

“As long as the doctors are sure everyone is okay,” he says, “Maybe I should talk to someone, ask them to look at you all again.”

She smiles, passing over Mae so he has the comfort of their little girl in his arms, and he takes her willingly, stamping his lips against her forehead as he holds her close. She melts into his embrace, exhausted by the stress of what had happened, and he runs his hand soothingly up and down her back. 

“Honey,” Emily says, reaching for his hand, linking their fingers together so she can squeeze his palm against hers. “We’ve all been cleared. We’re okay. I promise. Right, kiddo?” 

Jack nods, “Right,” he smiles at his Dad, “Can we get pizza?” 

Aaron chuckles, the residual panic still simmering in his gut, but he clears his throat and nods, wanting more than anything to just get his family home where he could keep them safe, “Yeah buddy,” he says, ruffling his hair, “We can get pizza.”

___

“I have a feeling we’ll wake up with both of them in our bed,” Emily says as she walks into their bedroom, groaning as she sits down, her body aching in more ways than it usually did these days, “But they are both asleep.” She turns to look at Aaron. He’s sitting on the bed too, an arm's length away, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, “Honey-”

“What happened?”

She sighs and swallows thickly. They hadn’t spoken about it, not whilst the kids were with them. An unspoken agreement that they’d leave it until they went to bed. Neither one of them wanting Jack and Mae to relieve it when they were awake, when it was likely they would in their dreams. 

“It was low impact,” she says, shifting towards him until their thighs touch. The guy behind us wasn’t paying attention, he was on his phone,” she reaches for his hand when he tenses and links their fingers together, “He went into the back of us at a red light. He’d already been slowing down because he saw it go yellow, he just missed it going red.” 

“He could have killed you.”

“He rear-ended us.” 

He all but growls, “He was being careless.” 

She makes him look at her, her hand cupping his chin as she forces him to turn his head, “Something that I made very clear with a lot of colourful language Mae might start repeating during breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

Aaron sighs and kisses her knuckles, “What were you doing in the car anyway? I didn’t know you were going anywhere.” 

She presses her lips together, giving herself a moment before she answers the question she’d been dreading all night, well aware of what his reaction would be, “We were bringing you dinner.” 

His eyes go wide, the internalised anger she expected flashing in his eyes, frustration she knows he’s sending inwards for not being home on time written in the tension in his jaw.  What she doesn’t expect, what she doesn’t see coming despite knowing him better than she knows herself, is the way he bursts into tears. A sob caught in his chest that sounds like it hurts, cracking his ribs from the inside out, the sharp edges of them catching on scars that were already scattered across his skin. Like he’s tearing himself apart from the inside out in the same places another man once tore him apart from the outside in. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out, barely getting a second before he leans forward and presses his face against her neck, his tears burning her skin. She holds him close and turns her head to kiss his forehead. She blows out a shaky breath, seeing him this upset enough to tip her over the edge herself, “We’re okay-”

“I know you’re okay, Em,” he chokes out, tears leaving tracks on her neck, his words muffled against her collarbone as his misplaced anger turns into the grief he couldn’t shake off, “But I keep going back to that moment when I didn’t know that you were. It felt like…” he drifts off and chokes on the rest of his sentence, “It felt like my world was ending. If I lost you…” 

She pulls back so she can look at him, and she presses her forehead against his, her hand curled around the back of his head as she holds him in place, “Sweetheart,” she says, the nickname he usually used for her slipping free, “I’m right here,” she says, reaching for his hand to place it on her chest, making a point of breathing in and out deeply so he can feel the rise and fall of it, “I’m okay. The kids are safe and asleep in their beds,” she shifts their joint hands to her bump and she smiles when the baby kicks, “Baby boy is kicking up a storm as always. We’re right here. You didn’t lose any of us. This isn’t like what happened with Haley,” she reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek, “We’re all right here.”

He chokes on a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He shakes his head, making it knock gently against hers before he pulls back to look at her, “Sometimes I think you know me a little too well.” 

She shakes her head and squeezes the hand still pressed against her bump, “I’m your wife. I don’t think it’s possible for me to know you too well.” 

“I’m so-”

“I don’t want to hear any apologies,” she says, wiping his cheeks again, “Not for staying at the office late. Or for crying. You have nothing to apologise for, okay?” 

He nods, resting his forehead against hers, “Okay.” 

They wear a door open just down the hall, and then the thundering of Mae’s tiny feet against the hardwood floor. When she opens their door and pokes her head around it she has tears shining on her cheeks, her lips trembling as she steps into the room. 

“Mommy, Daddy, I had a bad dream.” 

Emily shifts back from Aaron just enough to make room for the little girl, “Come here, baby. Do you want to sleep in our bed tonight?” 

She nods as she climbs onto the bed, settling herself onto Aaron’s lap, “Yes please.” 

Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

Mae looks up at him and frowns when she spots his damn cheeks, “Are you sad Daddy?” 

“I’m okay, baby,” He sighs and runs his fingers through her hair, exchanging a quick look with Emily before he returns his attention to his little girl, “I was just scared because you, Jack, Mommy and baby brother could have been hurt.”

She moves so she’s level with his face, all but standing in his lap now, his hands on her waist as he secures her in place. She kisses his forehead, making both him and Emily smile, and then she pulls back, “We’re okay.” 

“I know, princess,” he kisses her forehead in return and encourages her to sit back down, “Are you okay to get comfortable in bed whilst Mommy and I get ready?”

She nods and then tilts her head curiously, waiting until both her parents are standing up before she speaks, “Daddy?” 

“Yes, Mae?” 

“What’s a douche canoe?”

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-2

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: brief mention of knives and guns, fluff

The day had been absolute garbage. It must have been a full moon because every customer that came in seemed to have a stick up their ass. You spent the day calming down entitled jerks and cleaning up after your coworkers. For working in a bakery, you would think they would know how to frost a cake.

When the end of your shift finally came, you couldn't have been happier to leave. You quickly grabbed your purse and jumped in your car. It was a bit of a drive back to your house but you didn't mind. It gave you time to listen to music and unwind. Once you got to the edge of town the houses got farther apart and trees got more dense. The long road to your house was dark and the wind blew eerily. The trees swayed, creaking and groaning. The moonlight cast long shadowy tendrils across the ground. This was the one downside to living out here. No one could hear you scream.

You push those thoughts down and turn into your driveway. You park on the lawn and lock your car. You practically sprint into the house before slamming and locking the door behind you. You flip on the lights. The golden glow of the lamps helps to ease your nerves. You hang up your bag and make your way into the kitchen.

It was nearly ten pm and you still needed to make yourself something for dinner. You rummage through your fridge and cupboards before settling on ramen. You have some leftover greens from a stir fry you made and decide to throw those in there as well. You put the broth and a few eggs into a pot to boil for a while.

With your food cooking, you head upstairs to get into pajamas. You find some cozy pants and a shirt that smells almost clean. It's good enough, you think as you pull the shirt over your head. You drag yourself back downstairs, your feet aching. "Once I have dinner, I'm going to bed," you say to yourself.

You flip on the television before shuffling your way back to the kitchen. The eggs are finished boiling so you turn the heat off and add in your veggies and noodles. You put the lid on the pot to let them steep a little. The tv gives you a decent distraction and you find yourself falling into the lull of your nighttime routine. You turn to grab a bowl out of the cupboard when an abrupt knock nearly makes you drop it.

You make your way to the front door, grabbing a kitchen knife as you go. You weren't expecting any visitors. No one should be out here this late. You cautiously peer through the peep hole, a large dark frame filling your view. You flip on the front porch light to get a better look. Ghost glances up as you turn the light on. You breathe a sigh of relief and unlock the door.

"Hello, Ghost. Sorry, you scared me. Did something happen?," you ask, worried maybe something had happened to Price.

"I need a place to stay tonight. Price said you might have room," he grumbles. He seems nervous, shifting his weight back and forth. Price hadn't said anything to you about Ghost coming over. You made a mental note to chew him out for it later.

"Of course. Come on in," you welcome. Ghost steps into the house and stands awkwardly in the entryway. He glances over to see your still shaking hand holding a knife. He tenses briefly before seemingly remembering where he is and relaxing.

"You should really get a hand gun if you're going to be living out here alone," he remarks.

"I would but I don't have a safe. Besides, I'm not really sure how to handle a gun," you reply. He just nods. The two of you stand there in silence for a moment. You're not entirely sure what to say.

"Um, are you hungry?," you finally ask. Ghost nods again. "Well I just made some ramen if you'd like some," you offer.

"Yes please," he breathed.

"Feel free to make yourself at home. Change the channel to whatever you'd like. I'll go get dinner," you urge. You scurry back to the kitchen and grab another bowl from the cupboard. All you wanted was to go to bed. Now you're stuck playing host to a man you barely know. Why did life have to be so unfair? You dish out ramen into each bowl and add the eggs on top. You sprinkle on a little cilantro as a garnish before going to serve it.

"Careful, it's hot," you warn, handing Ghost the bowl. He's sitting in the chair near the corner of the room. Ghost gently takes the bowl from you. He seems to hesitate for a long moment. You watch as he brings a hand up to his mask and then lowers it again. Something clicks in your brain and before you can stop yourself you're blurting out ,"You don't have to eat with me if you don't want to. You can always eat in your room."

He shakes his head. He lifts his hand again and pulls down the mask. You feel your breath hitch. He had a deep scar twisting from the corner of his mouth up towards his ear. Another scar stuck straight down across his lips and down his chin. A third pulled at the skin underneath his left eye. You could see there were several smaller ones littering his skin.

He was stunning. He looked like something out of a Tim Burton film, in all the best ways. Soft pink lips that stuck out in a pout and long silvery eyelashes. His pale skin lined with purple webs, his deep brown eyes that seemed to notice everything. Like noticing you noticing him.

You quickly avert your gaze, your cheeks heating rapidly. You take a bite of noodles and try to clear your mind. He was hesitant to take his mask off in the first place, you staring at him probably didn't help. You guessed he was probably self-conscious of his scars. Based on the way he wore a mask and kept his head down, he seemed to prefer not to show them. You could understand why but they looked so beautiful to you. You thought he should show them off more. You briefly wondered what caused them. In all likelihood, they were won after countless brushes with death. Some part of you wanted to ask him how he got the scars. How he had eluded death. You wanted to know all his stories. You hardly knew the guy. You knew he couldn't be too bad, after all, Price trusted him alone here with you. But besides both of you knowing Price, you knew nothing about the man sitting across from you.

You watch him bring a spoonful of broth to his lips and gently blow on it before slurping it up. The two of you continue to eat in silence. The soft murmur of the tv fills the room. Ghost was so quiet you scarcely heard him breathe. You glance up just to make sure he really was breathing. You're shocked to see him finishing off the rest of his broth. He basically inhaled that whole bowl. Well, he was a big man and in the military at that. They probably don't get home cooked meals very often.

"Would you like more? I don't have any more ramen but I have some leftover chicken. I can heat that up," you suggest. Ghost seems to think about it before sheepishly nodding his head. You smile and get up to reheat the chicken. Maybe the barge sitting in your living room wouldn't be so bad. He seemed more like a shy school boy than a big, grown military man. You smile to yourself. He sort of reminded you of a Mastiff. They look mean but are about the biggest softies you can find. You plate the chicken and walk back to the living room. Ghost is looking at one of the small shelves on the wall, picking up the little trinkets and inspecting them. He nearly drops a little ceramic bunny when you come back in the room. He quickly puts it back and turns around. The tips of his ears begin to turn pink and you can't help but laugh. Yep. A big softie.

Taglist: @smileykiddie08

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Thanks for reading!

[technically-human]

Part two of the reverse verse is here! The reverse boys meet the original boys. They're not really getting along as well as I had hoped...

Again, this was a commission for @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are and they asked for angst/funny vibes... I think it's mostly just angst though. Oh, well...

Part one

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[wereh0gz]

Suddenly feeling very dissatisfied with what project: new moon turned out like

Or. Well. I guess I shouldn't say "suddenly" bc I've been feeling a vague dissatisfaction with it for. A while. But only know am I starting to parse out the reasons why I feel that way

With it having been out for a while now, I think back on all the things I could've done or could've executed differently, but didn't think of at the time so I didn't do them

Nox, for example. As a character, he's just kind of a vehicle for the story to happen, a source of torment for Rue, and the reason Sonic's werehog form is brought back. He never got to be much else. He's not very present in the story anyway despite being the main villain, and besides his obsession with Dark Gaia and lack of ethics, he's not really... much of a person

I got really lazy with fleshing him out so his entire character ended up just being evil antagonist. And honestly now I feel his role in Rue's story could've easily been taken by someone like Eggman with only a few changes

Rue's parents could've been way more developed too. They really only exist to make Rue's tragic backstory More Tragic and that's pretty much it. They're even less developed than Nox. Like they're not even characters even by the end of the story

And there's also Specter and Phantom, whom I like and have developed more than those I talked abt above, but I feel like I didn't really show enough of them as individuals. They're just kinda there to be Rue's friends and fight ghosts and not much else

It's like. Idk. I feel like I only really wrote that fic to justify my ocs existing and interacting with Sonic, and justify Sonic's werehog form being brought back even through it wasn't really necessary in the end. It was fun at the time, sure, but that rose-tinted view I had of it has kinda faded. Sometimes I even feel like I kinda rushed it bc I was so desperate to get that story out, since I've been working on these characters and the fic for so long. I was satisfied not bc I felt I made something good, but bc I was finally *done* with it. Now that's biting me in the ass and making me feel like all the work put into it went to waste

Hell now I'm even considering retiring Nox's character entirely (he is like. The biggest part of why I've been feeling crappy abt the fic now that I think of it) and giving Rue another revamp. Tho it feels weird to do it now bc the fic they're part of is out and finished. They are my ocs and I'm allowed to do whatever I want with them, but still

Whatever it is I decide to do, the twins probably won't change much, if at all. Not sure abt Sonic's redesign, I don't really wanna change it but I might have to recontextualize why he looks the way he does in this au

Idk what to do with the story yet, if I wanna rewrite it or not and just have my ocs existing in an au where Sonic never lost his werehog form instead. Really undecided abt all of this stuff rn. I definitely won't be deleting the project: new moon blog or anything tho, just won't be posting there anymore probably

Idk if this post makes any sense of if anyone actually cares but whatever I just need to get this off my chest

[itspileofgoodthings]

I assigned reading homework for the weekend and was hit by this wave of irritation with the implicit lying that goes on where they act like they’ll read the homework but they never actually do and so I called them on it and started teasing them and of course they laughed but then I was like “you know my secret dream is that you go home and you walk in the door and someone wants to do something fun with you or you get a text but you hold up your hand and say ‘no no, I have to read ten pages of Beowulf’ and then you sit down and do it” and they scream-laughed at the idea but I like to think it at least presented it to their minds as a possibility