#i need to watch this again its been so long

[ddejavvu]

the party’s long been over, and hugh is trying his hardest not to give into the not-so-subtle advances coming from his best friend’s drunk daughter. maybe he gets a little protective and even scolds her over how drunk and stupid she is. he doesn’t stop lecturing her even when he fingers her to shut her up.

send me dbf!hugh jackman thoughts!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dbf!hugh jackman, dubcon (reader is tipsy), don't like don't read.

this is a little more soft than it is mean but i couldn't help myself I'm sorry </3

god i nearly came. i'm picturing him all spread out on the couch, he'd been watching whatever was on tv but now that you've cornered him and sat on his lap he's trying his hardest to refocus his attention there. you're draped all over his lap, and he's getting hard from the way you're squirming on his lap but he's trying to will it away because he doesn't wanna be the douchebag who takes advantage of the younger woman.

you're begging for it, kissing relentlessly at his mouth while his hands frame your hips, holding you steady but not pushing you away like he knows he should. He's not kissing you back, or maybe he is, but it's almost imperceptible, nothing more than a soft tilt of his head or a sigh against your mouth as he thinks about giving in and licking against your lips.

"Please. Please, I want you, and I- I don't care about my dad. He- he doesn't have to know." You plead, hands braced on his chest as you peck his lips between every few words, "No one does, I- it can just be us, just one time, just- just for tonight, please?"

"You're drunk. You're drunk, honey, and that's not fair." He murmurs, and you take advantage of the way his lips move to form the words as you kiss him more vigorously, "I can't do that to you. Even if you weren't- I'm older than you, and I couldn't-"

"You can! I want you to," You nearly sob, face screwed up and chin wobbling as you grind desperately onto his chubbed up bulge, "Please, just once! Just once, I need- I need you, I need something so- aagh! so bad!"

"I can't do that to you." He insists, but his cock is steadily betraying him as it stiffens under your ministrations. He wants nothing more than to just give in but he can't, he'd feel dirty, tainted, perverted.

His heart aches, physically aches as you lay flush against him, writhing with need as he watches on.

"I can't fuck you." He repeats, raising a hand to cup your cheek, "Sweetheart, we can't do this. Not- not now, not like this, m'kay? Wait 'til morning." He croons, trying to placate you, but when you take his hand in your own he realizes that his resolve is weakening- maybe he can offer you something.

He's defeatedly still, and he should pull his hand away when you desperately grab onto it, but he doesn't. You bring it between your legs and press it to your cunt- he can feel the warmth even through your panties.

"I shouldn't," He tries again, but his hand seems to move of its own accord, betraying the rest of him as it slowly eases its way beneath your soaked panties and rubs gently, experimentally at the entrance of your cunt. You're wet in a way that suggests you've been needy all day, and he takes that as solace if it means you were stone cold sober when this all began.

"We shouldn't be doing this, sweetheart." He hums, leaning down to press a pointlessly chaste kiss to your head where you've nestled it into his chest. Despite his words he drags a thick finger through your pussy, adding a second when it's clear you don't need to be prepped.

"I love you." You whine pathetically, craning your neck upwards to stare at him through the sheen of barely-there tears in your eyes. You cling onto his arm to ensure that his fingers stay buried in your cunt and you kiss messily at his chin when you can't quite reach his lower lip.

"You're drunk." This time it's a scold, a light one but a scold all the same as he lets you rub yourself on his fingers, "Just because you're old enough to drink doesn't mean you need to do it like this, hm? Now if you weren't like this things could be different. I could give you more."

"I want more," You whimper, squirming on his lap and tugging his hand impossibly closer as you grind on it, "Please- please?"

"Not now." He hums, using his other hand to settle you down against his chest again while his wrist aches slightly at the contorted position you're holding it in. "After this you're going to bed. And we'll talk in the morning."

"I'll still love you in the morning. I have for a long time." You warn him, words muffled against the shirt over his chest.

He chooses not to respond- he's not sure how he could say anything that would properly sum up his feelings as he rubs his fingers through your cunt- but he knows at the very least that the feelings he can't put into words are truthful, and they'll remain in the morning even if yours don't.

[yeonzzzn]

phantom and the opera ; park sunghoon

pairing: phantom!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: a phantom stalks the opera house you currently sing for. a phantom who has eyes and ears for you and only you. warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, murder, blood, sunghoon is well a phantom obvi so he’s dead, mentions of death, MINORS DNI!!!

Sunghoon doesn’t remember when he died—just that he did. His only other memory before his death is how he died. 

Sunghoon held his arms behind his back, tangling his fingers together as he slowly walked the halls of the opera house he currently, well, haunts. He stopped right in the doorway leading to behind the stage, staring at the spot where he was murdered. 

The experience of being murdered was definitely a zero out of ten in his book. And his murderer? Got a whopping two stars on Yelp for being the shittest murderer ever. Home guy just walks in through the back door in the middle of switching between sets and shoves a dagger straight through Sunghoon’s side and twists. Sunghoon was the only one behind the stage that was ready for the next scene, warming up his vocal cords for the big range he was about to sing out. It definitely took him by surprise to feel the dagger pierce through his skin and feel literally everything leak out of his body as he bled out on the floor. 

The next he knew he was standing there, looking at his dead body and being confused as fuck as to how he was still on Earth. Weren’t you supposed to go to heaven or hell once you’re passed? Guess not in Sunghoon’s case. 

And ever since then, he has stalked the grand opera house. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his murder or if the man was even caught. He doesn’t even know why he was murdered to begin with. Who randomly goes into an opera house and kills one of its cast members? That fucked obviously. And for what? NOTHING! According to the talk of the people who’ve made their way in and out of the building after his death, all his belongings and even money, wallet, keys—literally everything—were still on his person. 

Guess the guy just needed to let go of some pent-up rage and Sunghoon was just the unlucky bastard who was his victim. 

Again, two stars on yelp. 

Guy is an asshole. 

So Sunghoon decided to take it upon himself to be the local opera ghost and stop any future crime from happening. 

Or so he tried. 

Because ya know, he’s a boo and no one can see nor hear him. The most homie can do is throw some objects around. Real spooky shit. 

So Sunghoon gave up and spent however long it’s been to watch free opera shows and silently or even loudly, judge the shows. Because again he’s a ghost, who can stop him? 

You. 

It all began with you. 

One long night at the opera, Sunghoon continued his normal walks around the building. The show ended and everyone was gone—or so he thought. Sunghoon rambled on about the cast and setting and how completely shitty that version of Wicked just was. 

“Wasn’t this an opera house? Since when did this place start doing random ass musicals and plays?” he scrunches his nose, staring down at his black boots. 

“The owners decided to expand. This building is just a theater now.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking and looked up to see you standing at the entrance to the dressing rooms. 

He raised a brow, turning to look behind him and seeing no one. 

“How did you get back here? This place is for cast members and staff only.” You asked.

Sunghoon once again looked behind him and everywhere around him. There’s no way you’re speaking to him, right?

“Will you stop fidgeting and answer my question?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips as you took him in, seeing the pure confusion on his face. 

“You can see me? And hear me?” he asked, now fidgeting with the seams of his cape. 

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan, “Of course, I can see you!” you motioned your hand in his direction, “Stop beating around the bush and state your business here.” 

Sunghoon dropped his hands at his sides, tilting his head ever so slightly while he looked at you. Watching you watching him. 

You tried to keep your composure and not be distracted by the handsome man in front of you wearing a really old version of the phantom’s suit from The Phantom of The Opera. Where did he even get that outfit? It’s so outdated. 

Sunghoon was speechless. How could he not be? Someone finally took notice of him. A beautiful woman at that. 

“I’ve always been here…” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your mouth to question him more, just to snap it shut as you fully drink him in. Taking in his deep brown eyes and the moles that surround his face. The way his hair parts and slightly falls in his face. It’s that moment you realize who he was. Remembering seeing his photo in the halls of this theater as one of the best actors and opera singers this city has known. And remembering how he was brutally murdered behind the stage many many many years ago. 

You were talking to the ghost of Park Sunghoon. 

“How…what?” 

“That’s what I am asking myself too,” he said with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Guess you might be something special.” 

And ever since then, Sunghoon has been attached to you. The first person to take notice of him in so long. The first person to react to him. To talk back to him. And he means talk back. 

Sassy thing you are towards him. Always critiquing his comments on this new theme of theater, plays, operas, and everything in between. And honestly? He loved it. 

If he wasn’t already in love with you at first sight, he definitely was the moment he first heard you sing. It entranced him. Your acting and your stage presence as a whole set him on fire. His nonbeating heart felt as if it were working again. The way he stalked outside the dressing room that evening, waiting so impatiently for you to step out. 

“YN!” he called out the minute you took a single step out the door. 

You held a finger up to your lips, quickly shushing him. You knew no one else could hear him, but you never wanted to risk it either. Or risk talking to him when others were still in the building. You’d look crazy. Or worse, someone else would notice Sunghoon and realize he haunts this theater. Deep down, in the small few months you have known this phantom, you’ve grown so fond of him, and if he were to just disappear…

Sunghoon quickly snapped his mouth shut, lifting his hand and pointing down the hallway. With a slow nod, you followed behind him until you reached a small room for meetings, closing the door behind you. 

You noticed his body language, and how nervous he seemed to be, “Everything okay?” You asked, leaning your back against the door, “You seemed eager to talk to me.” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, placing his hands on the back of the chair at the table, gripping it tightly, “I…I just want to tell you how well you did tonight.” 

He’s seen you perform multiple times. But it wasn’t until hearing you sing tonight that really took him over. 

You softly smiled, glancing down to the floor. It was the first time he’s complimented you. Sunghoon has only ever judged every play and would critique all the actors and singers. But never said anything about you. Until just now. 

“Thank you,” you softly whispered, slowly looking back up to see him standing in front of you, eyes searching yours, “Sunghoon?” 

How could he tell you he was crazy about you? How in love he was with you? He wasn’t even sure he could touch you. Yeah, he was able to touch other nonliving objects, but a living thing? 

“Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely lifting his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your palms starting to sweat. You were so sure he could see the nervousness on your face, yet you nodded anyway. 

Sunghoon hovered his hand over your cheek, then slowly cupped your face. He released an exhale and smiled wide, “I never knew how badly I wanted to touch you until just now.” 

Now you were so sure your face was red. Heart dropped down to your stomach, “You’ve been wanting to touch me?” 

He nodded, “Can I try another thing?” You didn’t even answer him, reaching your arms out to fling them around his neck and crashing your lips to his, pulling the phantom against your body, not wanting any distance to be put between you both. 

You also never knew how badly you wanted to touch him until this moment. And it was everything you could have imagined. He might have been a bit cold to the touch, but you swear he still felt warm against you. How was it even possible to touch him? It was a mystery, one you didn’t care about learning. All that mattered was him. 

You don’t even know how long you stood there, pressed against that door with Sunghoon’s tongue down your throat, not that you cared anyway how much time flew by. Sunghoon eventually sent you home, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Sunghoon lost count of the times he’s touched you now. Lost count of the times he’s pulled you into rooms of the theater. The amount of times he’s pressed you against the walls and roamed his hands up and down your body. He was completely obsessed with you and everything about you. Nothing could get better or ruin this feeling. 

Until something did. 

Not just something. Someone. 

Heeseung. 

A new hotshot actor and singer that was added to the current play due to another one falling ill. 

Sunghoon didn’t like him from the moment he looked at you for longer than a second. 

You noticed a change in Sunghoon’s demeanor. Always wearing a frown and creasing his brows. Eyes always staring off, looking far away. 

Usually during practices, Sunghoon’s eyes were always locked on you as he stood on the balcony. Always giving you smiles. But lately, it’s been nothing but frowns and looks of disgust. 

“YN!” Heeseung called for you, running his hand down your forearm, “Want to help me go over this part?” You kept your eyes locked with Sunghoon, watching how he gripped the railing of the balcony, “YN?” Heeseung said with worry, now pulling your arm towards him and you finally meeting his eyes. 

“What? Yes, sorry. I can help you go over this.” 

Heeseung glanced up to where you were staring, raising a brow. 

It took everything in Sunghoon to not jump from this floor. But what could he do? He can’t just yell at someone who can’t even see him. 

Days passed and the closer Heeseung was getting to you. Always giving you smiles during free moments. Standing way too close to you. Touching you more than Sunghoon’s liking, even though he would prefer Heeseung not fucking touch you at all. 

Sunghoon followed behind you after practice, his hand on your lower back, gripping the ends of your sweatshirt, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

“You’ve been a bit different, lately.” You said, keeping your eyes straight ahead, eyes being aware of the ones still in the building. 

“Different how?” Sunghoon asked, his fingers gripping your sweatshirt even tighter. 

You shrugged, “It’s like you are here but not.” 

Your words hit Sunghoon hard. It made him realize how distant he had been. How more aware he’s been over another male than you, the love of his life. 

“YN, I’m—“ 

“There you are!” 

Sunghoon tightened his jaw. 

Heeseung jogged down the hall until he stood in front of you, “Heeseung,” you smiled, and it killed Sunghoon, “You were looking for me?” 

“Yes,” He smiled back, flickering his eyes over your shoulder, staring directly at Sunghoon. 

He can’t see me…can he? 

Heeseung flicked his eyes back to you and smiled wider. Yeah he can’t see Sunghoon, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” 

“Say no,” Sunghoon said quickly, fighting every muscle in his body from pulling you towards him. 

Heeseung’s muscles in his jaw twitched and Sunghoon could have sworn he saw his ears perk up too, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, being the newbie and all.” 

“Oh, of course!” you awkwardly giggled, reaching behind you in a manner of adjusting your clothing but shoving Sunghoon’s grip on it off, “Thank you, that’s nice of you.” 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered, “Please don’t go.” 

It was hard to act as if Sunghoon wasn’t behind you. To not react to his pleas, “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Heeseung asked, quickly looking at Sunghoon and glancing back at you. 

Did you have a boyfriend? Would whatever you had with Sunghoon count as a relationship? He’s technically dead, was it possible to date a ghost? 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered your name again. 

You decided on saying nothing and just slowly shook your head, “Let’s just go get something to eat! I’m starving.” 

Before Sunghoon could reach out for you, Heeseung had his hand on your lower back, pulling you along. And the smirk Heeseung flashed over his shoulder when you weren’t looking sent a chill down the ghost’s body. 

There was no way Heeseung couldn’t see him. 

“Sunghoon,” you moan his name as he pounded into you. 

He’d be lying if he told you he wasn’t extremely pissed off that you went to dinner with Heeseung last night. Pissed off over the fact he knew Heeseung could see him, hear him, and knew the feeling he had for you and still made it a point to ask you out. How fucking dare he? 

“Hmm, want to act like a slut huh?” Sunghoon breathed in your ear, gripping his fingers deeper into your hips, “Think just because I can’t leave this building means you can fuck around with someone else?” 

You shook your head, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the vanity he had you bent over against, “Hoonie no, you know why I did it.” 

“Hmm, do I?” he bucked into you harder, your jaw falling slack and wet moans escaping your orifice, “Seems like to me you rather be with him.” 

“No no!” you chanted, pressing your face against the cool mirror, “I only want you. I only want you.” 

Sunghoon knew you only wanted him. He could see it written all over your face every single time he saw you. But that didn’t stop the raging jealousy he felt. And the hatred he felt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, flinging his head back and letting the wet sounds of his cock being buried in your pussy over and over again fill his ears. Sunghoon didn’t think it would even be possible to have sex let alone get his dick hard. But the moment he walked in on you changing after tonight’s practice his desire flooded him. And obviously seeing him get so worked up over you sent you clinging your thighs together. 

“Hoonie,” you breathe his nickname, “Fuck, Sunghoon!” 

“Hmmm, what baby? Tell me what you want huh?” he said slowing down his pace to an undesirable amount, causing you to fuck yourself against him. 

“Please,” you cried. 

“Please, wh-” Before Sunghoon could finish his words, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door creak open, barely being able to see the silhouette of the person on the other side of the fogged-over glass window. 

Sunghoon smirked, picking his pace back up again, making sure he had you screaming and the mirror hitting the wall behind it. 

“Please what, baby?” he growled, “Wanna cum? Is that it?” 

You nodded, “Please let me cum,” 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew, “Tell me you love me,” squeezed your hips, slamming you down even harder on him, “Say how good I fuck you and no other dick can satisfy you, not even Heeseung.” 

You winched at Heeseungs name, piecing together the puzzle of why Sunghoon had been acting so strange. He was jealous. Being protective. Possessive. And you found it so fucking hot. So hot you were spitting the words right back at him. 

“I’m in love with you,” it wasn’t what Sunghoon asked to hear, but you said it anyway, feeling the truth behind it with every syllable, “You fuck me so so so good and no one else can ever satisfy me. Only you, Sunghoon. Never Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon smiled. A smile that was full of love and confirmation that you were his. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he moans, towering over your body as he fucked into you, his hands now gripping the tops of your against the mirror, “Fuckkkkk, baby I need to cum. Cum with me. Fuck.” 

The dressing room was now filled with the sounds of your moans as a mixture of yours and Sunghoon’s cum dripping down your thighs. 

When Sunghoon looked back at the door, it was now closed again. 

Heeseung stood behind the stage, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his neck. It was opening night for the play everyone had been working so hard on. It was in between scenes. You were on stage singing a duet with another cast member beautifully for the crowd. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and you never failed to amaze him. 

His smile slowly faded, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d approach me,” he tilted his head to the side, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, “Park Sunghoon.” 

Sunghoon smirked, rocking on the heels of his boots and twisting his fingers behind his back, “You know who I am? I’m so touched.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “I knew who you were before I stepped foot into this theater,” Sunghoon raised his brows, urging him to continue, “You’re a big name in this town, such a shame what happened to you,” Heeseung fully faced him now, “Death by a stabbing to the left side of your abdomen, right? Went right through your ribs and punctured your lung.” 

Sunghoon was really starting to loathe this guy. 

“I knew you could also see me, there was no way.” 

Heeseung laughed, “At first I thought you were just following and watching our poor YN, until I realized anytime you looked at her…” his facial expression changed to a mixture of anger and jealousy, “She was looking right back at you.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head, “What? Jealous are we?”

Heeseung shrugged, “Maybe over the fact you got to fuck her.” 

Sunghoon was now getting angrier, “You heard her the other day, no one can satisfy her but me.” 

“Are you so sure?” Heeseung took a step forward, “You aren’t even alive.” 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, “Fuck off.” 

Another step forward, “I bet I could fuck her so so so good,” another step, “Make her cum multiple times,” another step, “Hit all her sweet spots while I bend her over my bed,” and another, “Have her screaming my name so fucking loud she would forget who you even are.” One final step. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, “You won’t fucking touch her.” 

Heeseung laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed against the walls. He flung his head back up, now narrowing his eyes back at Sunghoon, “At least she’ll be able to actually have a life with me.” 

Sunghoon’s body twitched. Heeseung took one last step. 

And he was right where Sunghoon wanted him. 

Heeseung barely blinked before Sunghoon was now standing in front of him, faces barely inches apart. Blood filled his mouth, hands gripping Sunghoon’s wrists, “You damn bastard.” 

Sunghoon looked down at his work, seeing the beautiful blade pushed into Heeseung. Right between the ribs and puncturing his left lung, “Ain’t so fun, is it?” 

Heeseung’s knees grow weak, barely holding himself up and eventually dropping to the floor. Sunghoon followed him down, pushing the blade deeper into his body. 

Blood spilled out of his mouth, bloody hands now falling to the floor, “You want to know what is so damn funny?” Sunghoon chuckled, glancing around the back of the stage room, “This is the exact same spot I was murdered all that time ago.” 

Heeseung’s eyes widened, “Well, aren’t you one for an aesthetic.” 

Sunghoon leaned closer to his face, “No, I just wanted to kill you. It just happened to be right where I was killed.” 

It was Sunghoon’s turn to laugh, feeling Heeseung’s blood caking his hands. Is this how his killer felt? The adrenaline rush of hearing skin rip apart by a blade. Feeling the blade graze past two ribs. The feeling of his blood staining his hands. 

Oh, the rush. The excitement. Now he knew why people committed such crimes. 

“Huh,” Sunghoon said with realization, “Full circle. Funny shit.” 

“You’re fucking insane!” Heeseung snapped. 

“Shhhh!” Sunghoon pressed a bloodied finger to Heeseung’s lips, “You’re going to miss the finale of YN’s beautiful voice. 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his vision fading as he focused on your voice. 

“I’m going to fuck that mouth later.” 

Heeseung jolted forward, using what small strength he had to lift his hands to grasp Sunghoon’s sleeve, “You’re a real piece of shit!” 

Sunghoon shrugged, “I’m the only one good enough for her.”

“You aren’t even alive,” Heeseung said again through gritted teeth. 

Sunghoon slowly pushed the blade in deeper, “I don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, “I’m still as alive as can be because of her.” 

Heeseung’s vision faded more, black spots forming around Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

He dropped his head to the floor, right at the moment the final echoes of your singing voice bounced off the walls, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

“Oh, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cooed with a tilt of his head, “This theater can hold only one fucking bastard.” 

With a final push of the blade in deeper, the color of Heeseung’s eyes faded, body going completely still. 

Sunghoon stood up and backed away from Heeseung’s dead body, taking in his kill. Voices of the cast members appeared from behind him, then screams echoed off the walls. 

“Someone call an ambulance!!!” 

Sunghoon kept his smirk, slowly wiping the dried blood against his pants. 

He slowly turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway. You looked beautiful in the tight-fitted purple dress, hugging your body to show off your curves. So beautiful with the way your hair is curled and pinned to the back of your head. 

Everything about you was beautiful. 

Even the way your eyes filled with tears as you took in your friend's dead body. 

Your eyes shot to your lover, seeing Heeseung’s blood stain his clothing and hands. The tears streamed down your face as you stared so deeply into his eyes. 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew bigger, slowly walking over to you, “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered, cupping your face between his hands. The smell of the blood filled your senses, stomach turned at the very thought of how it would stain your skin. 

Sunghoon killed Heeseung. 

“I did this for us,” he forced you to look at him and away from the dead body, “I couldn’t let him take you away from me.” You let out a small whimper, “Oh, baby,” he shushed, “It’s okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

You were at a loss for words as Sunghoon pulled you to his body, holding you tightly. 

No one was ever going to take you from him.

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

[nanivinsmoke]

✿ anytime, anyplace.

18+ minors dni backshots. exhibitionism. creampie

logan was so horny and needy almost all the time. he was like an animal, needing to breed and hunch on you at all times.

that includes missions as well.

he loved fucking you during a mission. the thrill of being caught excited him. he always made sure the two of you were on a mission together, and if you weren’t; he still found a way to at least have your pretty pussy on his face.

it was dangerous, yes, but you were with a man who could literally SMELL danger; so you weren’t too worried. but, the mere thought of being in danger when he’s so deep inside of you was exhilarating. your cunt would gush at the thought.

you and logan would fuck like newlyweds everywhere, even though the two of you had been together for more than a year.

you two were currently on a mission by yourselves, when he found a good opportunity to press you against the wall and split your cunt open. you were sopping wet and a moaning mess, while he made a mess out of you. logan watched as your ass jiggled with each hard thrust he had gave you, loving how you looked and sounded.

“baby its’ too much—I can’t take it!” you managed to blurt out, drooling on the painting that you were pressed against. poor vincent van gogh.

he chuckled and leaned against your arched back, pushing himself deeper inside of you. “look how you’re taking me now, doll. such a good girl, taking me so well~”

his praise had your knees buckling and your cunt drooling with slick, you were so unbelievably close and it wouldn’t be long before you’d come crashing down on his dick.

“logan im gonna—wait baby….i hear—fuck—something.” you warned, trying to get his attention but he wouldn’t let up; still making your pussy a gushing mess.

he was close too. he needed to cum inside you, he had to. he wanted you to be so fucking full of his cum, it would start to pour out of your ears. he pushed your head into the painting, drilling your cunt open—making your pretty little eyes roll in the back of your head. you opened your mouth to warn him again, but all that came out what his name and a series of ‘pleases’.

your walls clung to him once more before they clenched and unclenched around him—cumming all over his girth. and out of the corner of his eye, while he was fucking the orgasm out of you, he could see what you were talking about earlier.

snikt!

his claws unsheathed and sheathed again in an instant, dropping the head of your enemy to the floor. but, you kept your eyes closed. he had it handled and you were too occupied with the new feeling taking over your body—with him painting your walls a pretty pearly shade of white.

his cock was lodged deep inside of you and his thumb was pressed against your other hole, adding more stimulation to your overstimulated body; before he pulled out, his cum slowly drooping out of you.

he quickly pulled your slick coated panties up and helped you zip up your black latex xmen suit, before fixing himself. logan reached over and grabbed the medallion around the severed head, before grabbing your small hand.

“I’ll drive. you just keep those pretty legs up and keep that cum from slipping down them~”

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find. im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial! (this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals. it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically: contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark. BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer! the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only), i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps. there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way. you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes. don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared. like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different. on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art. rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless. find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment. particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them) but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker. it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 9! College!simon x reader. Hope yall enjoy—UGH the slowburn is slowburning 🥺 feel free to leave feedback & like/reblog!! Even more motivation.

Masterlist here ✉️

You’d been working the bar for some time now, four days a week. You’ve had some hiccups along the way, trading shifts with Simon when you needed to stay back to study. First, he was firm about it and looked displeased.

He did that usual thousand mile yard stare into your soul.

“Come on, Simon—I’ll do your assignment as a way to pay you back.” You groaned.

“No.” He stood behind the counter, burly arms crossed and lips pressed thinly. He resumed his stoic face. That was exactly why he pulled you to work at this bar—not to do some illegal shit.

You sighed and rubbed at your nose bridge, desperately needing a plan. Then, you perked up, brows raised and looking at him with that twinkle in your eye.

“I’ll fix your jacket.”

“This bloody lass…wot now?” Simon purses his brows, finger tapping impatiently on his elbow. He stared at you, meanwhile the sunset was setting behind you.

“Your jacket? It looks faded and broken. The one that says Lieutenant.” You slowly egged on, hoping he’d catch on.

He stiffened for a moment, eyelids widening for a split second. Then he cast a side glance at his hanging jacket in the closet. It was indeed ripped, buttons hanging loose. He inwardly cursed. Of course you just had go catch on. But curiosity sparked in him—the idea of your hands on his jacket gave him a rush.

So then, he looked at you.

“Bring it back neat n’ pretty, yea?”

That’s how you won. Now, after a long night of studies all you wanted to do was collapse and sleep. But no, instead your fingers worked deftly to fix the buttons hanging off loosely.

His jacket. Now it lay in your arms, spilling into your lap.

It even smelled like him. Musky. Maybe you went too far, but you repaired the leather on it. Only with distilled water did you carefully wipe it down, removing the dirt. Then with some saddle soap—rubbing a rag over it—you worked gently in circles over the leather.

“Cannot believe he has me doin this—“ You grumbled under your breath. Although it was your fault—needing to swap a shift again. Twice. You knew he felt irritated, but you hoped to make up for it by restoring his jacket.

After letting it dry for about 15 minutes, to which you nearly dozed off in bed—your alarm went off.

“Goodness Christ—“

You then got to work. Some youtube tutorial you watched years ago on caring for leather got you here. You owned a leather jacket anyway, red and hidden away in your closet.

“Alright…conditioning it is.”

Shortly after finishing, you managed to fall asleep in the chair, his jacket covering your lap.

——

“Ya done fixed er’?” Simon said, almost at a loss for words when you showed up the next day. His hands that were cleaning the glass now slowed, rag hanging limply. Lips parted in pleasant surprise, brows raised. A scar on his brow shined in the light.

There you were, holding his jacket folded in your arms. The brown leather was as good as new, and shiny. The cracks had faded and the buttons were sewed on.

“There she is. Told ya I’d have it done.” You said with that usual sarcastic tone. Your lip lifted in a smirk.

“Where in the hell d’ya learn t’do sum’ like this?” Simon asked, brow cocked and reaching out to grab his jacket from behind the counter. He sniffed it. It smelled new to which he’d have to drown it in his cologne. Rough fingers traced the soft leather, feeling its weight.

“I just happened to whip it outta my ass when I needed it the most.” You joked, hopping up on the bar stool and perching a hand on your chin.

It was then Simon noticed the bags under your eyes and he hung his jacket on the hook. He returned to glass cleaning, as the bar was quiet for now. It was you and him as Johnny and Price were most likely on the way.

“You didn’t sleep much, did ya?” Simon asked gruffly, eyes flickering to meet your dazed look.

“Studies.”

“So you really were busy—aye?” His eyes did this sudden gleam—and you found yourself staring. A rare look. You moved and put your arm in your lap, tearing your gaze away.

You didn’t want to be caught staring.

“Arabic class. You know how that goes.” You mumbled and sighed, shaking your head.

“Lass, since ya swapped the last few shifts, I needed to give ya’ this.” He then held out your tips from the first shift. Simon remembered the few times he’d try to find you to give it to you—but you were always busy. At a table, cutting up lemons, headphones in your ears, or cleaning the ice maker. And then last shift he heard you swapped.

You watched his movement, then eyed him, sliding the cash into your pocket. You shifted on the bar stool.

He had half a mind to ring your ear for leaving it—but the eye bags suggested he hold his tongue.

“Don’ leave it, yea? Some’ will give ya’ tips, so take it.”

“Got it.” You said, momentarily biting your lip.

Simon caught onto the movement and then shifted his gaze away, chest puffing slightly.

He then cocked his head at the window, light illuminating the hook of his nose and strong jaw. Motorcycles pulled up at the front and laughter ensued.

“Look who’s ere’. Troublemakers.”

“Gotta babysit em.” You joked which earned you—and lately—his wider grin.

You liked it.

——

The bell rung—and suddenly you found yourself spinning around. Another day another shift. Simon stood there, clad in his grey zip up, balaclava, but you recognized his eyes and that gruff tone of his—and boots. A backpack was slung onto his shoulder.

“I need ya’ to cover f’me.” He said lowly, his heavy eyes staring into yours.

Just then, your lip tilted up—amusing how now he was in your position.

Just days ago you begged him, if you remembered correctly.

“Only if ya give me your tips.” You beamed, unable to help to cat like smile.

He furrowed his brows and then leaned in—cologne and musk rising to your nose. His blonde lashes brushed faintly his cheeks, and then lips parted. You could see the scarring from his past so clearly, and now you wondered. What exactly was the training he went under? You knew he was Lieutenant…

But now you hugged your breath in—at his proximity. Your hand stalled from cleaning the glass.

“Lass, you can ave’ my tips. Don’ need em anyway.” He spoke gruffly.

“I—“

“Don’ want ya strugglin’.”

He then moved away instantly and straightened up, clearing his throat. He left no explanation.

You then resumed cleaning the glass, impossibly faster this time as if you’d turn it into a damned cup. Your neck flushed and it spread to your ears.

Simon thought he saw it, only to see you turn away.

“Is tha’ a yes?” He called out, gruffly.

“You got a yes, Cap.”

He then made his way out, bell jingling and boots thudding against the pavement. You watched his back, curious and slightly flustered from the whole scene.

You finger tapped the counter, “Hate to see you go, love to see you walk away.” You gave out a dreamy sigh.

Lately you’d been thinking about him more—and not necessarily in a friendly way. But more so—the way his cologne smelled, the eyes peeking from the balaclava mask, the flex of his biceps. The way his words rung out teasingly, and then some days—grumpy and stone cold when Johnny questioned him.

My god.

You were really getting sucked into him.

You wondered if he even felt that way for you too. Goddamnit. You’re a 27 year old woman, not a teenager. You knew money was tight ever since you moved apartments. This one was slightly above your pay grade—and then again, the old apartment, broken sink and regular gas leaks just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

Remembering his words, that he didn’t want you struggling something warm fluttered in your chest. You shifted slightly, unable to help the flush that deepened.

——

Close to the end of your shift, you and Johnny had been cracking a beer. Well, he did. You? You kicked back to some whiskey. Beer wasn’t your type. You know both sat on kitchen tables, all cleaned off. Johnny’s long legs braced the ground, perched at the edge, beer in one large hand.

“Dinnae think ya’ had it in ya’ handlin’ this job.” He muttered, taking a swig.

“Asshat tried to make a move on me earlier—wasn’t having it.”

He barked out a laugh, cheeks raising. They developed a slight flush from the beer now, and it only made his skin glow.

“Gotta’ show em’ what they shouldna’ mess with. Do what ye’ will.”

You grinned, bashfully looked down at your glass. Your finger tapped the side, seeing the whiskey sway a bit form your movement.

“I told him to get a pussy that can take a pounding or two.”

At that, Johnny bursted out laughing. His hand slapped his thigh, and you joined in, chest rumbling. Your head tipped back as you finished the last of your whiskey, hearing him howl.

“Goodness—lass. Remind me t’never bother ya.”

Thud.

Just then, the door swung open revealing Simon. He went behind the counter, back facing you.

You stiffened up, sensing something wasn’t right. You kept your eyes trained on his back, seeing his shoulders were tense and movements—half a second scurrying to punch numbers in the calculator.

Johnny watched, although not surprised or shocked at all. He’d gotten used to see his mate like this. But you—oh that would be entertaining to watch. So he sat, sipping his beer and eyes wide.

“Simon?” You got up and approached, resting your glass near Johnny who fished it and placed it in the sink. You emerged out the kitchen archway and into the bar. When he turned, your breath caught and your hand involuntarily flew to his arm.

Johnny couldn’t help the long glances as if this were some telenovela.

“What the hell—“ You hissed.

“Is’ nothin.’” He’d say flatly, cutting you off. He was sporting a black eye, lip busted. It looked nasty. The cut looked fresh, although not bleeding anymore. His lip was swollen from the hit, and knuckles grazed red. His clothes were wrinkled and shifted off his broad form slightly.

“You can’t just say that and not explain.” You said stiffly, arms crossed and glaring up at him. You were adamant, and defiant. And if he wanted to play this game of hide and seek—you’d find the truth eventually.

But Simon knew better now than to hide from you. He scratched at his neck with an arm raised. He initially didn’t want to worry you, but now—the plan went to shit.

So his eyes slowly followed yours as you assessed the rest of him. He couldn’t fight the sly grin that pulled on his lips, lips aching and all. He was Lieutenant after all, and after years of combat, training, near death experience, he’d never seen a lass so wound up over a black eye and scratch.

“Ya know I’ve andled’ worse.” He said with less of a bite this time.

You shook your head and out the corner of your eye saw Johnny leaned against the crate, smiling widely.

“You can’t leave it like that. What. Happened.” You repeated again, this time enunciating it. You walked to the back of the bar, past Johnny who sent Simon a wink.

Simon—just in time sent him a glare to shut him up, then returned to you, eyes softened just slightly. He perked up when he saw the first aid kit you brought out and nearly stifled a laugh. He found it endearing in a way—how you got all pissy and frantic over some scratch.

“Aye, the brute fought wih’ sum’ rascals is what.” Johnny said. You glanced at the Scottish man, shaking your head scoldingly at Simon. You dragged him to sit him down on the kitchen table edge, brows furrowed in thought—and irritation.

“Aye, ya’ heard the man. Few rascals were gettin’ feisty with the store manager. One of em pinned me.” Simon muttered, rolling his eyes. He could’ve fought better—but sleep deprivation made him lose his touch.

“One of em? Lieutenant, ya’ losing it?” Johnny said, cocking a brow amused and half concerned. “Is’ all tha’ damned Geek gettin’ to ya’.”

“Greek.” Simon corrected, although not necessarily caring.

Meanwhile, you got an ice pack, and squeezed it. A pop was heard and you grabbed his larger hand, placing it in his hand. Simon glanced where your hands touched, feeling sparks shoot up. He was hunched, the other hand resting on his knee, shoulder angled. He raised the icepack to his eye.

“I ain’t losin’ it. Jus’ went easy on em’ is all.” He gruffly said.

Johnny snickered and you moved to his lips, placing a small bandaid on it. It was a hello kitty one.

When he saw it, he glared at you. Brows slashed down, displeased. A pinch between the brows—and eyes narrowing.

You couldn’t fight the grin. “Sorry. Its all we had.”

“Ahh. Ya see. Knew this woulda’ happened.” Johnny grinned mischievously, so you put two and two together.

You scoffed and then moved back, eyeing Simon who never removed his eyes from you. You held your breath at the sight of his darkened gaze, something dark in them. Why was he staring like that? You thought.

“I look pretty now, is tha’ it?” His voice rung out, deep and smooth.

Johnny finished his beer, washing up your glass. He turned his back to you both.

You shifted, then gave out a quick reply. “You look like you belong in a tea session with hello kitty.”

Johnny bursted out laughing, shaking his head as he scrubbed the glass. “Lassie—you really makin’ me piss my pants tonight.”

Simon then got up, arm brushing yours to walk past. You followed with your head—then walked behind him, leaning on the archway of the kitchen entrance.

Simon began wiping down the bar counter.

You didn’t say a word, but eventually spun to face Johnny who was as red as a tomato. He couldn’t help his massive shit eating grin, standing behind you.

When he muttered you smelled the beer on him. “Dinnae tell Lieutenant, but I may ave’ put the hello kitty bandaids in it.”

[eccentricgrace]

the one who left behind his name || BatFamily

summary: dick gets hit with fear toxin. this experience reveals a lot of surprising conversations he needs to have with his brothers.

tags: dick grayson’s eldest daughter syndrome, bruce wayne’s c+ parenting, fear toxin, lots of hugs, hurt/comfort, found family feels

wc: 12,100

⚠️tw: canon-typical violence, blood, injury

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

The irony was, Dick didn’t see the green mist settle in until it was on his tongue. An acrid, medicinal film, seizing his lungs in a chokehold while he buckled over, hands clutching at his knees for a sense of stability.

In a second, his mind sparked back on like a match lit in a gas chamber. His hand shot up to his mouth, it clamped around his nose, he held his breath; all attempts in vain to undo what he knew would begin soon.

He made an ‘abort’ gesture, stumbling back into the shadows. “Robin,” he rasped out. “Code Fern. I’ve been hit, we’re heading out. I need Agent A to—“

“I’ve got it,” Damian snapped. “I’ve collected a sample for Agent A to analyze as we sit here wasting time. What’s your status?”

Dick grimaced as he tried to think of a way to soften the blow, to ease the fears edging from his baby brother’s voice. It was hard to think when he could feel his heart start to pound, when he knew the beginning of something terrific was stirring, except ‘terrific’ meant—

“Nightwing, status,” Damian repeated, his voice strung tight. “Do we need to call an assist?”

“No,” Dick said quickly, even though his legs shook and there’s a stutter in his heartbeat. He ignored it and pulled himself down the dark street.

In a moment, the world twisted on its axis, and in the second that Dick paused to blink, Damian was at his side. He shoved his small frame under Dick’s arm, trying to support his weight.

“Liar,” Damian hissed. “You can’t even stand straight, Grayson—“

“Names,” he chided lightly.

Damian ignored him and pressed forward with determination. “We need to get you to the cave before Crane’s delusions kick in.”

Dick half-heartedly agreed, and tried not to acknowledge the growing twitchiness of his mind. He felt eyes at the back of his neck, something lurking in the dark, watching them.

“Stay alert, Robin,” Dick directed, turning his head to get a view of his peripherals. “We’re still on the ground, baby bat.”

Damian made a frustrated sound and continued ignoring him.

“Nightwing,” a voice filtered in through his comms. Low, gruff, stern. Shit. “Status.”

Dick exhaled stiffly through his nose and brought a hand up to his earpiece. “I got hit. Low grade gang, I wasn’t expecting them to have toxin. I think they stole it, but still— I should have known Scarecrow’s long silence was a red flag.”

“You should’ve,” Bruce cut in. His tone was clear, made up of all his no-nonsense inflections that always made him feel like he was eight years old again, with all of the false confidence and none of the worthwhile experience. “That’s disappointing, Nightwing. I trained you better than this.”

The words sent a rush of anxiety through him, like he’d been mentally knocked back. His throat went tight as he tried to form an argument. “I—“

Dick paused. His hand hesitated on the comms, and he pulled away. He looked to Damian, who was watching him with a not-so-subtle side eye. “Isn’t B off tonight? I thought he had a gala.”

“Father isn’t online,” Damian confirmed, his eyes narrowing through the domino. “Are you hearing him now?”

Dick sighed in agitation and let his hand drop from the earpiece. He avoided Damian’s exact question, instead saying: “We need to move faster.”

Damian nodded, schooling his expression into determination. His face faded in and out of view as they marched through the dark alleyway, his hand retaining its tight grip on Dick’s elbow.

“I failed you tonight,” Damian said. He was sure. Certain.

He’s never certain of himself, not really, not unless he believed he had made a mistake. It’s one of the many things that Dick had learned the hard way, one that still broke his heart when he caught it.

“I should have noticed the toxin before you got hit. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Damian ducked his head once.

“It will,” Bruce said, his voice ringing metallic through comms. “He’ll disappoint you again, and again, and you’ll have to watch until you can’t do it any longer. Not even I could stand you for too long. The cycle won’t break.”

(“You’re firing me?” Dick guffawed, his arm still in its sling, fresh blood still on his bandages. “Bruce—“

“This isn’t for discussion. You’re done,” Bruce said. He turned around. He won’t look at him. Why won’t he look at him? “You aren’t being safe, you’re taking too many risks.”

“Necessary risks!” Dick cut in, the forced smile slipping from his face. His eyebrows are pulled tight in a stressed glower. “You can’t just take Robin away from me, Bruce. Robin is mine, I am Robin.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce snapped. He stalked toward the door, still hiding his face, the damned coward. “You were fatally injured, Dick. You were reckless. You failed the mission. You don’t deserve—”)

Dick’s exhaled sharply. He forced himself down to his knees and gripped Damian’s shoulders. His head hurt. He swallowed thickly. “You’ve never failed me.”

Bruce made a low, disapproving sound. “That’s not what I said, Robin. I’m in your head, I know you haven’t forgotten what really happened.”

Dick flinched, his shoulders hiking up to his ears. He shut his eyes tightly. “We’ll talk more about this later, but the serum, it’s getting worse.”

“You can’t listen to it,” Damian reminded him, his face pulled into a determined scowl. “It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

“It was real, though,” Bruce scoffed. “Wasn’t it?”

(Bruce’s mouth snapped shut before he finished the sentence, his teeth audibly clicking together.

“I don’t deserve what?” Dick asked quietly. His face was hot, the air rushing out from his nose like a dragon, like some beastly inhuman thing.

Bruce said nothing. He said nothing, and wouldn’t look at him, and Dick felt more alone now than he had since…)

“Nightwing!” Damian shook him off. “Focus!”

Dick groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his head spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, he felt sick. He couldn’t move, not even if he wanted to— he just felt paralyzed.

“It’s not real,” Damian said, grabbing his wrist. “Damn it, Nightwing. Snap out of it!”

(“You made me this, Bruce, I don’t have anything else,” Dick said, and as he said it the words bubble into a manic laugh, like he’s just realizing it for the first time.

For so long he’d seen it as the only good thing in his life, that Bruce had been able to save him from himself. That Bruce had scooped him up from the bloodied floors of the Circus, cold floors of the Gotham City orphanage— but now the floors of the cave are just as bloody, just as cold.

A gilded cage is still a cage.

The only good thing in his life has now just become the only thing. He’s a bird without wings.

Bruce didn’t say goodbye to him before he left.)

“I was busy,” Bruce said lamely. “You were acting like a child.”

“I was a child,” Dick rasped, the words keening from his throat. His vision tunneled, going dark around the edges, and he bit back a swear. “Robin, call backup.”

If Damian replied, he couldn’t hear. There’s another hand pulling at his wrist, to which he knocked away in his panicked instincts. A following clatter on the ground echoed through the darkness, then a muffled sound of pain.

“Shit,” Dick said. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—“

Bruce sighed with resignation. “Always reckless. Always endangering the people you claim to love. You won’t ever learn, will you, Robin?”

A blinding light hit his eyes, and he hissed, his arms shielding his face from the spotlight. Wind whipped around him, and there was so much sound that started at him in waves. Cheers and whistles, the steady tin dribbling of a timpani, a symphony of thunderous applause.

Dick weakly dropped his arms, squinting out at the lights, all white beams that strobe past him, that move in and out of view. In the light, little bits of paper fell: cheap, thin squares in colours of faded red, yellow, green—

He’s been here before.

A million times, more, he’s been here. He breathed in, was hit with the scent of hay, of chalk, of sweat, of blood. On his tongue he could taste it, the metallic tang of sheer horror and a scream so deep it could only be felt.

“Richard!”

Dick’s head shot up. Crouched on the edge of a platform an entire tent’s length away, he could catch the blurry figure of Damian. He was injured, blood dripping from his nose.

A spotlight dropped on Damian, and the boy winced, ducking his head to cover his eyes. Dick’s mind stalled. He couldn’t tell what was real or not.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… BOYS AND GIRLS… HALEY’S CIRCUS IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE…”

A trapeze dropped from nowhere, the bar dull with chalk. The timpani sped up, drumming impossibly in tandem with his heartbeat.

“…FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…”

In all his nightmares, Dick could see where the rope was fraught, could see what he missed the time that it counted. This wasn’t an outlier. He could see the singed edges, he could see them.

“…THE FLYING GRAYSONS!”

(He was four when he learned to fly. He was never nervous. He never felt safer than he did holding onto his Tată’s warm hands, and he never felt more free than when he was swinging through the air with a laugh in his chest.

“I want to do this forever,” he insisted after his first day of practice, standing on his toes. “Can I, Mamă? Please?”

“My little Robin,” Mamă laughed sweetly, combing his hair back between her fingers. “You were just born to fly, hm?”)

The band was playing loud, circus music that twisted in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong shapes. Dick hazarded an alarmed look towards Damian.

“Dami,” he called out frantically, stepping up. “Damian, hang on. Don’t move, okay?”

Damian’s eyes look back at him, all wide, unsteady. He looked so young now that he had removed his domino— Dick can’t remember when he’d done that.

“Richard!” He called out. “Do you have a plan?”

(He’s eight years old and it’s the end of this summer’s tour. His Mamă did his hair, gelled the short waves down nice so they wouldn’t fall in his eyes when he hung upside down, because he’d fretted when they started practicing their big act.

He’s got his perfect show-stopping smile on, one of his front teeth missing, but bright and cheery all the same. His outfit had been pressed last night, glittery red and green with stripes of yellow dashed along the chest to look like a bird.

His knees locked around a trapeze bar, and he swung back and forth, grinning at Mamă because she’s always so beautiful when she soars through the air. She winked at him, and to his glee, he caught a quick glimpse of her sparkly eyeshadow.

The crowds cheered. He felt like he was on top of the world.)

The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he gritted his teeth, holding out his arms to keep some semblance of balance. He looked back up, barely-concealed panic in his eyes. “Richard, we’re running out of time. I should— I have to jump.”

“No!” Dick shouted, a sudden bark of a word. He made himself sound as stern as he could, the panic ramping up in his chest. “Damian, do not jump. Stay there.”

Damian was going to fall. There wasn’t a question about it. Dick looked at the bar dangling in front of them, and he made a choice.

“I’m—“ Dick took a steadying breath, and forced his shoulders to relax. “I’m coming to you. Just stay there.”

Bruce had trained him for moments like these. Times if his cable broke, if some accident occurred to his grapnel while he was still in the air. He knew, theoretically, the least-damaging way to land from a potentially lethal height.

That was with one person. Not two.

He pictured the steps in his mind. Grabbing Damian, tucking him to his chest, turning over before the inevitable impact. Injury would be the best case scenario.

Dick’s ready to take that chance.

(Dick’s swinging back and forth, the blood rushing to his head, and something about the rope—

Mamă was swinging towards him, and something wasn’t right. The rope thinned, and before Dick could even process what the problem was— it happened.

SNAP.

His Tată gasped, his Mamă’s eyes went wide, her hand still stretched out to take his.

Dick’s arm lunged as far as he could without falling, his small fingers strung out as if the centimeters would make a difference.

It didn’t.

He screamed, and he kept screaming, and sometimes it felt like he never truly stopped.)

“Damian.” Dick smiled, attempting to pacify him before the damage. “You’ll be okay.”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes wildly darting from the trapeze bar to Dick. “What? Richard, don’t do anything stupid! What are you—“

He took a few steps back, shook out his limbs, and swallowed his fear.

He leaped towards the bar. The rope strained under his weight, he could hear the way it pulled. Damian yelled a swear, seemingly having connected the dots. It didn’t matter now. He needed to build more momentum.

He swung his legs back and kicked them forward, and a loud round of applause shook the stadium. The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he nearly toppled over the side of the uneasy ground.

Dick swore, and he kicked harder, using every bit of his weight to get the trapeze moving.

“Damian!” He shouted. “Jump on three! Okay? I’ll catch you!”

Backwards, forwards. Dick’s hands were sweaty through the gloves of his suit. Damian was mouthing to himself: One.

Backwards, forwards. The rope pulled taut. It creaked. It was almost over. Two.

Backwards, forwards. He launched off, the rope pulling apart with an echoing snap. His eyes locked on Damian, who had jumped towards him just as the platform crumbled. Three.

Dick reached out his hands.

(Mamă reached out her hands.)

He’s falling.

(She’s falling.)

Damian’s fingers brushed against his, just barely, just enough for Dick to pull him closer. The two of them tumbled through the air, birds without wings. The world spun, and Dick turned Damian away from the impact as it grew closer—

It took two seconds for the world to explode in a menagerie of bright, painful colours. Two moves. His spine, the ground. The wind knocked out of him.

Under the sound of the audience, still clapping, still cheering, oblivious to the blood, he could hear them— the circus clowns laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

In his arms, a crumpled bundle shifted and cried out. Dick hissed weakly as the movement jostled his back. A spark of fear gave him the energy to lift his chin, just enough to look down.

“Damian?” He wheezed. “Dami, you okay?”

Damian climbed off of his chest, and held a hand to his head. It came back blood-soaked, crimson running down his wrist. He looked back at Dick with dazed eyes. He made a small, confused sound at the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Dick sat up, ignoring the white hot pain shooting through his entire body. He stumbled close to Damian to investigate the wound.

Somewhere during the fall, he’d hit his head. There was a lot of blood. Inevitable– head injuries were always the bloodiest because the brain needed a lot of blood; there were a lot of vessels to be broken up there. He definitely had a concussion.

He pressed pressure onto the wound, sinking a terrible warmth into the fabric of his suit.

“Okay,” Dick said quickly, cradling Damian’s head in his hands. “You’re okay.”

(He was always more tired after a mission.

Usually the farther it was, the more free he felt— an effect of his nomadic early years. He learned pretty fast that the rule didn’t apply to extraterrestrial travel. He preferred his feet on the ground he knew best, and the long space missions the Titans had to go out on lately were really good at draining him of all his energy.

That’s why he spent the entire trip home soothing the bone-deep exhaustion by imagining himself walking through the door. He’d collapse on the couch, sprawl all his limbs out and laugh at the way Jason would trail in after him with a scowl.

Jason would stumble over his explanation that the first living room’s TV had the best audio quality, to shove over so he could watch The Princess Bride, and Dick would move over just to kick his feet back over Jason’s legs.

They’d wrestle over the remote and then Jason would glare at him and say “welcome back, by the way,” and then Dick would finally feel like he was home.)

Someone dropped behind him. The fall of heavy boots. A familiar sound. Dick turned around and faced a red helmet and full weaponry.

“You called for an assist,” Hood said bluntly.

“Damian,” Dick rattled off quickly, keeping his hand clamped on the bleeding wound. “I mean Robin, he’s injured. TBI, external bleeding head injury, I haven’t had time to properly triage.”

(He’s walking up the hill, the winding road up to the foyer, and he’s thinking about Alfred’s hot cocoa. He’s thinking of Bruce, and mimicking his facial expressions everytime he turned away until Jason cracked and let out one of his kiddie high-pitched laughs.

He got to the door, and something felt wrong, like the rope, like the—)

Hood stalked forward. He clicked his helmet off and tossed it to the side, the metal clanging on concrete. He leaned down beside Damian and looked over the wound.

“Definitely a concussion,” Hood sighed heavily. He said something mumbled to himself, then tried snapping his fingers in front of Damian’s face.

Damian was wildly out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. His fingers twitched from where they were held in one of Dick’s hands, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curling in an annoyed sneer— he was scared, disoriented, and he was trying to fight it off. Oh, Dami.

(Maybe he was paranoid. Recent events had definitely made him noticeably more twitchy, but he couldn’t imagine why it would make him feel like this.

Not even paranoia could cause this, he wanted to think— this feeling of something so deeply off center, a molecular-level change that he couldn’t place.

He took a breath, shook off his shoulders, and put on a smile— perfect, show stopping, just like Mamă taught him — before he knocked on the door.

The door opened promptly. Alfred had been waiting for him.

Alfred’s hand shook lightly on the door handle. His handkerchief was tucked messily into his suit pocket, wrinkled and well-used. His hair was thinner, his eyes were sunken in, red-rimmed, his lips were pulled together primly. Grief emanated from every tired line of his body.

Dick’s smile was whisked away and paranoia was replaced with dread, shuddering over him faster than he could breathe, from his hair’s split-ends to the soles of his feet.

He swallowed, his gaze going steely. “Who was it?”)

Dick shuddered, everything was hurting so badly— the world was blurring, he’s messing everything up, and Damian was injured in his lap and he needed help.

“We have to get him to the cave, or Leslie’s,” Dick pleaded, looking up to Jason. “Whichever’s faster.”

“The cave. Leslie’s on the other side of town, and Agent A is already prepared for a shit show,” Jason said. After a moment, he sighed. “I got here on my motorcycle, though. Not enough room for three, even if Demon Brat is a shrimp.”

“Take him,” Dick said immediately. He lifted Damian up, his entire spine screaming with pain. He winced, and pressed on. “Take him to the cave, I’ll find my way back.”

“Whatever.” Jason reached down and took him in his arms. “What happened, anyway?”

(“Bruce. Tell me you’re lying,” Dick said, barely getting the words out with the way he shook. “Tell me you didn’t bury my…”

Bruce didn’t speak. He was looking at him, finally, after all the time, but his gaze was empty. His eyes were grey, devoid of feeling, of focus.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. He needed Bruce to flinch, to blink, to breathe. Anything would be better than this.

Bruce just stared.

“God damn it, answer me!” Dick punched the table again, his eyes scanning furiously over Bruce’s void of energy.)

“Dickface,” Jason snapped, sounding mildly alarmed. He shifted uncomfortably, the unconscious kid groaning in his arms. “Hey, what the fuck. It wasn’t that serious, why’re you crying?”

Dick blinked rapidly, his hands coming up to his face. Tears made his cheeks wet and cold. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping them away. “I don’t know, I— he fell. That’s what happened. We—“

“Did you fucking drop him?” Jason spat out, looking at Dick with disgust.

“I didn’t drop him,” Dick bit down, his teeth clicking together painfully. His stomach turned with waves of nausea. “We fell together, I tried to—“

“You did,” Jason scoffed. “You did drop him. Nice fucking going, Dickie. Do you know what a fall from that height does to someone as small as him? You may be able to take it, but chances are he fucking won’t.”

(Bruce swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he mumbled drunkenly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dick’s vision was beginning to blur, a familiar rage burning its way back into his veins, back to the circus, back to screams and police sirens, back to Zucco.

An empty whisky glass from Bruce’s desk found its way into Dick’s hand, and was thrown across the room with a brilliant amount of force. Dick didn't look while it shattered and fell to the carpet in a million shining pieces.

“Sorry is something you say when you break a fucking glass,” Dick gritted out. “Not when you kill somebody’s fucking little brother.”

He couldn’t breathe. He’s taking in air faster than his lungs could register it. “What did you do, Bruce? What the hell did you do?!”)

“You’d think the first one would be enough for the lesson to stick,” Jason spat bitterly. “But no, somehow, you just keep collecting dead birds, huh?”

“No,” Dick scraped out. He bowed his head, pressing into the gravely pavement. A gasp forced out from his lungs as the tears made him heave. “No, no, no.”

The boots trailed around him in a lazy circle. “Another baby brother lost. Stop fucking crying, Dickie, I know you don’t actually care. You gonna miss his funeral, too?”

“I’m so sorry.” Dick made fists, he grasped uselessly at the concrete, catching and ripping at the fabric of his gloves. “He didn’t tell me. Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Sure. Sure, he didn’t tell you, so it wasn’t your fault.” Jason gripped his hair and yanked his head up. “Which is it, then? It isn’t your fault, or you’re sorry? Which is it?”

He’s pissed. His eyes a manic green, the way animals carried vibrant patterns so predators knew to steer clear. It’d been so long since his last bout of pit madness, he’d already fought this battle before, it was supposed to be over.

“Everything you are, was what I wanted to be,” Jason said slowly, his eyes dark and gleaming, tilted and dangerous. “Now I can’t even look at you without feeling sick.”

“I know,” Dick croaked.

“When we finally kick the bucket, I pray we go to different hells.”

Jason released his grip, and Dick’s skull slammed against the floor in a blinding white flash.

(“Nightwing. We’ve gotten a code red from Titan Tower.”

Dick paused, his movements lilting in confusion. “Tim’s the only one there this weekend.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, B’s telltale giveaway of panic. “The Red Hood has been seen at the location.”

Something heavy fell in Dick’s stomach. His eyes darkened. “…Leaving now.”)

Rather than waking up in one of Gotham’s infamous back alleys, Dick lifted his head in an indoor grey hallway, industrial, stretching a long way before an inevitable turn.

His heart was still pounding, his breath still stuttered with every inhale and exhale. Two brothers gone, two fathers lost, one mother dead. He wanted to curl up and stay there shaking until it was all over, let the misery wash over him until the bubbles stopped.

“I didn’t train you to give up,” Bruce said, his voice cracking through his skull. “If you’re going to die, you’re going to make it useful.”

Someone was calling his name. Somewhere else, as it echoed and rebounded through the ominous hallway. He lifted his head again to look.

At the far end of the hallway, just before the turn, a dash of red smeared on the wall. Dick knew like the back of his hand what was meant to follow, every horrible moment that awaited him.

“Don’t just lay there,” Bruce commanded. “Run, Robin.”

(Dick’s voice was hoarse from how loudly he’s bellowing as he sprinted through the tower’s floors. He barely heard Tim at all, a cry, weak and frail as a baby bird’s, and then he was running again towards the sound.)

He was running through the hallways. He couldn’t remember getting up, all he could remember was—

(—blood on the wall. Blood on the floor. It was everywhere.

Good god, it was everywhere, and in the center of it all there was—)

“Tim!” Dick fell to his knees, gathering up the teen and pressing his hand to his bleeding neck.

Tim keened, tears and spilling crimson on his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He grasped helplessly at Dick’s arms, his feet pushing against the floor in a squirming mess as he tried to deal with the pain.

“It’s okay,” Dick repeated feverishly. He’s moving like a ghost, like a possessed man, like a puppet. “I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to the med bay. Come on.”

He scooped Tim up and half-dragged him to the medical bay, and he’s digging through the drawers with one hand and—

(— he’s holding Tim’s bleeding throat with the other, and Tim kept trying to speak. He was gasping and floundering like his life depending on choking the words out, rather than actually living.

Dick kept shushing him. He’s razor-focused, he’s scatter-brained, his hands are doing a million things at once, he’s not moving fast enough. He packed the hemostatic gauze and—)

— he wrapped the injury with more cloth, and—

(—it’s hiding the red, it’s working, his little brother will be okay, Dick will make it okay and—)

—there’s so much blood, it was soaking through, and nothing was working. It wasn’t supposed to be this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. These weren’t the way the words were written. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

“You’re—“ Tim gasped, the sound wretched and wet. “A murderer. A fraud. You…”

Dick made a panicked noise as he pressed more gauze, more cloth, more pressure, and the shock was starting to settle into Tim’s body. His eyes were going glassy. His face was so pale underneath the bruises and drying blood.

Tim gurgled, his hands going limp and falling to the side.

“Not another,” Dick shook. “Not— Not again.”

He reached out—

(—to take his mother’s hand—)

(—to call Bruce—)

(—to ruffle his brother’s hair—)

(—to keep pressure on the wound—)

—and his hand is caught by someone else’s.

It was akin to the exact moment a storm cleared, or taking a proper breath after a marathon. Atlas with a sudden bout of freedom, shoulders free of the world for one clear, distinct moment.

He exhaled, squeezing the hand in his in a strange desperation. He needed this to be real.

The hand squeezed back. Someone’s speaking to him in low, soothing tones.

The scene in front of him faded away into nothing, a cloak of darkness falling over his view. He felt tired enough to sink into the dark, enough to breathe now like it wouldn’t be his last breath.

Distantly he thought maybe his heart had finally given up, that this was the peace before his consciousness gave into oblivion. A pang sat in his throat, a heaviness at the thought that he would be leaving his family in need of him, but — but this couldn’t be stopped. Not anymore.

“Shh…” a callused hand gently graced his face. It’s warm and it’s safe, and he was so tired. His eyes shut, his body went lax at the abrupt crash of adrenaline. “It’s all better now. Just rest.”

In the end, it hardly felt like a choice at all.

He went to sleep.

Waking up properly was a slow, miserable process.

He kept getting flashes of awareness, fragments of scents, of sights, of sounds. Sometimes he panicked, and then there was that voice again, gruff and steady, telling him everything was going to be fine.

All the while, he dreamt.

In dreams, everything was just as fuzzy, so much so that it was hard to distinguish from reality until he would jerk back awake.

He was nine, carrying his things in a big black grocery bag he got from a social worker up the front steps of the manor. He’s thirteen and he’s broken his ankle on patrol. B won’t stop fretting and Dick won’t stop rolling his eyes.

He’s fifteen and he hated the world and he loved his dad. He’s seventeen and he wanted to come home now, really, he did.

He’s eighteen and he loved to sit next to his little brother and listen while he read books with words so big he couldn’t pronounce them out loud. He’s twenty-two and his little brother was dead and every morning he made two bowls of cereal for himself and a ghost.

He’s twenty-four and there’s a scrawny boy with messy dark hair and determined blue eyes on his doorstep and his brother’s voice was in ear telling him about “the importance of remembering history, Dickface.”

He’s twenty-five and Robin kept looking up to him with such hesitancy, and Dick hated himself because he couldn’t remember how to be who he needed to be. His smiles became more bright, the unfortunate but necessary byproduct of an artificial sun.

He’s twenty-six and everything was upside down. Damian was so angry, Tim was too confident, Jason wasn’t himself. For a moment Dick knew how Bruce felt. Maybe they were never cut out for loving people. He didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this much.

Now, Dick lazily blinked the sleep away from his eyes and swallowed the stagnant saliva in his mouth. He felt warm from what he assumed to be an IV drip, and dizzy from whatever drugs he had to be on.

“Dick.”

Dick glanced over to the chair beside him, where Bruce was still sitting. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his shoulders were tight, and he knew exhaustion when he saw it. He knew Bruce.

“Are you with me?” Bruce asked.

Dick exhaled carefully through his nose. Chances are that this wasn’t another hallucination— especially because he felt like an actual human being and not anxiety personified. “Depends. I thought you had a gala tonight.”

“I had a gala two nights ago.”

Dick sighed. He used his strength to push himself up into a sitting position. Bruce’s eyes never leave, tracking along each movement with quiet calculation. “I was out that long?”

Bruce grunted an affirmative.

This was the part of the mission where Dick would give his report, try and point out all his mistakes, inevitably fail, and listen to Bruce’s lecture about the most important thing he missed.

No reason to mess with tradition, he figured, so he let his head fall back on the pillow and went back to where it all went wrong.

“Damian and I were on patrol. I got dosed with toxin,” Dick recounted, closing his eyes. “I gave the order to get out of there. I told Damian to call backup after the hallucinations started feeling more real.”

A flying trapeze. The Red Hood. Tim. Dick sighed again, his cheeks going hot. “The hallucinations were unrealistic, I should have been more logical with my approach. It was the flashbacks that screwed me over, I think. It made everything… feel real.”

Bruce wasn’t saying anything, only watched him carefully. All this time and Dick still hated when he did that. He looked back at him and waited for the reproach, the promised lecture.

Bruce finally cleared his throat. “Fear toxin alters the mind,” he said. “Often the first thing to go is rationality and logic. I don’t blame you, Dick— you were strong, you and Damian made it out alive. Today, that’s what counts.”

Dick hesitated, watched the way Bruce’s eyes flickered, the way his jaw tensed minutely between certain words.

“Something happened when I was out,” he surmised. Bruce looked away, effectively confirming that he was right on the money. “What was it?”

“It proved… challenging,” Bruce struggled, “to get you en route to the cave. The footage is available, but I would avoid it this time. It was a close call.”

“Was I the only one hurt?” Dick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. His mind flashed him pictures of Damian in his arms, of Tim on the ground. He hated fear toxin.

Bruce nodded once. “Nobody else sustained injuries.”

Dick sighed with instant relief. He let himself relax back into the cot. “Where is everyone, then? I figured at least Damian would be here.”

“I sent him to bed,” Bruce crossed his arms, a very tired amusement passing his face. “I stopped letting him argue back at hour forty-four. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit.”

Dick smiled. “How long ago?”

Bruce flicked his wrist out and glanced at his watch. “Six hours ago. It’s two in the morning.”

Not enough sleep for Dick to justify waking him up. He’ll wait for a few more hours, or until Damian wakes up to find him. Whichever came first.

“You should go to sleep,” Dick told him, because he could see the dark circles and knew Bruce probably had been too busy working on an antidote with Tim to rest. At Bruce’s visible hesitation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be alright here. I know you have me hooked up to monitors anyway. Seriously, get out of here.”

Bruce took a moment, and then relented with a heavy sigh. “If something comes up, you know what to do. Goodnight, Dick.”

Dick found the footage on the lenses of Robin’s mask.

He didn’t like watching himself on fear toxin, not that anybody did. The vulnerability is unsettling, sure, but watching himself behave like a wild animal never sat with him the right way. He couldn’t be like Bruce, who would watch his patrol footage and pick it apart mercilessly just to improve his technique.

Furthermore, it was weird to see himself from Damian’s eyes. Himself, crouched down so they’re eye-to-eye. In the footage, Dick was trembling. He flinched at nothing.

“The serum,” he had said, but his voice sounded distant, like his head wasn’t fully there. “It’s getting worse.”

Then, Damian. Sure-fire and defiant. “You can’t listen to it. It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

With Damian’s eyes, he watched himself look around the alleyway like a hunted dog. His chest stalling every few seconds and then his breath increasing in speed.

“Nightwing!” Damian reached for his arm and shook violently. “Focus!”

He made a wounded noise and didn’t move, hiding his face in his hands— he remembered this. He remembered this happening. This was when the first flashbacks kept catching him off guard.

“It’s not real,” Damian had tried. “Nightwing, snap out of it!”

This was where memory started to trail off from reality.

In reality, Damian was on his comms, his eyes locked on target to whatever Dick was doing, ready to catch him if he flew off. He was calling a code— Oracle sent everyone to pick up collateral. Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan. They went in teams.

Damian doesn’t leave his side. The footage clipped to a later timestamp.

He watched himself flounder in terror, looking around with choked gasps and half-mumbled words like he was caught in a nightmare.

“Damian. Dami.” Dick caught Damian’s arm, his eyes distant, his pupils shrunk small. He was whispering. “Damian. You’ll be okay.”

Damian froze. He quickly turned away as a motorcycle was heard behind.

Dick watched as Jason came into view, much like he did in the hallucinations, although here he moved forward more like he was approaching a feral animal.

“You called for an assist?” He tried to joke, his usual deadpan failing with the undercurrent of worry that pulsed through. (Neither of them did well with fear toxin. They hated it both equally.)

Dick watched himself react to the words like he’d just taken a bullet. The way he lurched away, the immediate hurt that followed on Jason’s face.

“It’s not you,” Damian said immediately, echoing the thoughts Dick had. “You know that, Todd.”

“I know,” Jason shrugged. He inched forward tentatively anyways.

“No,” Dick scraped out, gasping. He started to scrape at the ground with his hands, leaving them bloody. “No, no, no.”

“Fuck,” Jason said quickly, as both him and Damian rushed to stop him from shredding any more skin. Jason flinched as Dick let out another keening cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his head lulling uselessly forward. His body shuddered violently. “He didn’t… tell me… Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry...”

Jason made a frustrated sound, strangled at the back of his throat. “Fuck. I’m making it worse. Why didn’t you call Tim? He likes Tim.”

“You’re not making it worse,” Damian snapped. “Stay focused.”

“I’m focused,” Jason snapped back. “Let’s get him to the cave. You think you can keep up with me with your grapple?”

Damian marched forward, taking the hook from his belt. He exhaled stiffly through his nose. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Hood. We’re wasting time. I’ll see you there.”

The footage jumped again, rerouting to the security feed in the cave. It showed the medical bay at the forefront, the cot he was lying in, and the computer in the back. It was chaos.

Jason and Bruce argued loudly as they held down Dick’s arms and kept him pinned to the cot, as he seized and gasped. Alfred stood to the side holding an oxygen mask to Dick’s face, trying to get the two to stop shouting. Damian stood still at the foot of the bed, scowling while he overlooked vitals. His hands shook.

“His BPM is too high,” Damian growled over the noise. He spun around to where Tim had been pacing in the back. “Drake, his heart is going to inevitably fail if you don’t work faster.”

Tim, muttering to himself, moving around computers and flasks like a mad scientist, didn’t meet him with even a look. “I’m working as fast as I can,” he spat back. “Yelling at me won’t make a cure magically exist.”

“I’m just saying,” Jason insisted, “he got worse a hell of a lot faster after I showed up, and now with you here, he’s about to fucking die!”

“I didn’t ask you to just say,” Bruce cut sharply. “You know just as well as anybody else that the effects of Crane’s toxins are unpredictable, and–”

Dick managed to land a stray hit in all his panic, shoving Bruce away and sitting up from the cot. His eyes wild, his chest heaving; he pushed out of Jason and Alfred’s hands and tried to stumble off the cot.

“Fuck,” Jason swore. “Now look what you fucking did–”

Damian clenched his teeth. “You idiots– can’t you do one job correctly?!”

Tim swung around. He marched over, pushing Damian to the side, shoving past Jason and Bruce, and ignoring them all as they turned their attention. He leaned down beside Dick, who had fallen to his knees. He held a syringe in his hand.

“Tim,” Dick stammered, reaching forward. “You’re bleeding, you’re…”

Tim grabbed his arm and stuck the syringe into a vein, his jaw set in a firm line. Dick made a panicked noise and seemed to flounder back, but he had already finished injecting the antidote. It was done.

“It’ll set in an hour,” Tim said, looking around the stunned room of people. “He’ll probably sleep a lot, so someone should sit with him. And all of you should apologize to Alfred for the headache.”

After a beat of silence, it was Damian who spoke first.

“I’ll take the first shift.” He paused. “...Hopefully you did a considerable job, Drake.”

The footage ended.

Dick turned the device off with a shaking hand and closed his eyes for a long, long time. He breathed in. He breathed out. He did it again, and again, and again, until it didn’t feel like he was living it anymore.

He had barely been drifting when the door to the medical bay creaked open. When there was no following noise, Dick knew it was Damian. His footsteps were always too quiet to hear unless he wanted someone to hear them.

He opened his eyes, and Damian was scowling at him.

Dick smiled easily. “Hi, there.”

Damian scowled harder.

Dick’s smile faded, and he swallowed, letting himself go solemn. “I’m sorry, Dami. I know, I shouldn’t have let myself get hit. I endangered you, I could have hurt you, or worse—“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Damian scoffed. He marched into the room, sitting down in the nearest chair with a huff.

His hair stuck up in all directions, he was still wearing his pyjamas. Dick noted with unrestrained glee that it was the joke Nightwing pair he bought last Christmas. He just looked like any normal kid who had been woken up too early, and Dick loved him more than words could express.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Dick asked instead, tilting his head. “I know whenever B got hit with a fear toxin, I would get pretty freaked out.”

Damian watched him quietly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were considering this. He knew sometimes it took a moment for Damian to decide whether or not he was safe to engage in a particular conversation, and he respected that— so he went quiet and patiently waited.

“You spoke a lot,” Damian said finally, his expression easing. “Much of it was incoherent, but there were times where you would say something clear. I believe you were convinced I was in danger.”

Dick nodded. He kept his hands folded on his lap to prevent himself from fidgeting too much.

Damian then looked down. “I believe you lied to me. You told me it would be okay. Or, tried to.”

“I did,” Dick said slowly.

Damian’s jaw clenched, his eyes very focused on the floor. “You nearly died several times before Drake synthesized a working antidote. The fear was making your heart dangerously fast— anybody else not used to the stress would have died.”

Dick frowned, but remained quiet.

Damian looked back up, the scowl returning, albeit weak. It couldn’t hide his watery eyes. “It would not have been okay, Grayson.”

The youngest of all of them. Underneath all the violence and sharp words, it was hard to forget that Damian was still just a kid — a kid who had lost everything just like the rest of them.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said quietly. He hesitated. “You’re right, Damian. I’m sorry.”

“I do not wish to grieve you,” Damian warned, an imperceptible waver in his voice. “It would be inconvenient. Your life is–”

The words broke, and he quickly looked away, glaring harder at the floor.

He sniffled and his hand quickly swiped over his cheeks. He kept his shoulders tight, his body language full of fire and brimstone, spiked and thorned just like he’d been when he first arrived.

“If you die,” he said coldly, baring his teeth, “I’ll hate you forever.”

There are few things on this earth that meant as much to Dick as his family. After everything he’d lost, the things he gained only meant that much more. His little brothers; they all came from grief, born and bred.

Jason had crept through after Dick thought he had nothing left to fight for, when he instead fought everything as if it would repair the loss.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grow around the loss and gave it new life instead.

Tim was the one nobody thought to worry about, the anomaly, the one who bypassed the firewalls in the midst of the crisis. Broke down faulty systems, repaired them, forced his way through the cracks that Dick couldn’t find it in himself to caulk.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grieve the present and appreciate it at the same time.

But nobody had expected Damian. When he crash-landed in like a jet on fire, it was like the ground underneath them went uneven, and he continued to break their expectations with every step he took.

Robin replaced Robin. This time, Dick learned a lot of things. He learned what it was like to have a Robin.

He learned the weight of holding a sleeping kid on his chest, how he would do anything to keep him looking that peaceful. He learned to keep an ear out at night, to keep his door unlocked in case there was a nightmare, in case he was needed.

He learned how it felt to have a piece of his heart living outside of his body— and, like anybody, Dick didn’t like it when his heart was broken.

“Everybody dies, Damian,” Dick said carefully. “I really hope you won't hate me, when I do go.”

He exhaled, watching as Damian wiped away more of his angry tears.

“But,” he continued. “I’m not dying today, or hopefully anytime soon. I’m here, just like I said I’d be, and… I’d rather not spend the rest of my long life with someone that I love so much being angry at me.”

Damian shifted in his chair, like he was ready to bolt at any moment. Despite his best efforts, his bottom lip quivered and his scowl was starting to falter.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Dick said quietly, the words cracking at the end. He cleared his throat, ignoring the burning at his eyes. “I’m sorry that I scared you. Next time, I’ll—“

Damian stood up promptly and marched forward, his face properly scrunched up to avoid tears. He crossed the room in three steps, and by the third step his resolve had fully broken.

Watching Damian cry was like watching the world tear itself apart. He’s twelve years old and had the same rocky edges of the mountains he’d been forced to climb, had the same ferocity as the currents he’d been forced to swim against, had the same chill as the tundras he’d survived.

He held onto so much, so much; all before he’d barely started to carve out a spot in life big enough for him to stand in. It was hard work. It only ever got harder.

Dick would reshape the earth in his own hands if it meant the land would soothe the old aches and reset the broken bones. He’d take every hurt and every pain and he would do it smiling if it meant his little brothers never saw an inch of it.

But he couldn’t do that. Instead he had to be content with letting his arms open, and trusting that Damian would crawl up into them. That would be their peace.

Damian wept, broken little sounds choking their way through his tears. He buried his head into Dick’s abdomen and kept his arms curled up to his sides.

“Oh, Damian. Băiatul meu dulce,” Dick soothed, hushing his voice to a murmur. His heart was bleeding, a messy thing in the cage of his chest, and he quieted it down, too. “You’ve got me, Dami. I’m okay now. I’m okay.”

He pressed a kiss to his baby brother’s head and tried not to let himself lose the last semblance of emotional control he had as Damian’s cries racked through his small frame.

“This is your fault,” Damian stuttered through tears. “I’m still mad at you. Just... don’t leave.”

“I know.” He kept his hands busy by drawing circles over Damian’s back. He took deliberately slow breaths and rocked gently back and forth. “I’m right here, honey. You can be as mad as you want, I’m not going anywhere.”

And then words dwindled into nothing, because sometimes the silence was better. He pressed his nose into Damian’s hair, kept himself close. His hands worked their soft rhythm on his back, continuing even as Damian’s breathing slowed to a calmer pace.

His chest and upper stomach was soaked in salt and he didn’t give a damn about it.

After a few minutes of quiet sniffling and the sound of a hand smoothing down the wrinkles of a fleece shirt, Damian huffed. He kept his face hidden as he spoke.

“Emotions,” he said tentatively, drained of energy, “are exhausting, and embarrassing.”

Dick smiled shortly. A rush of relief passed over him, because talking was good. Talking meant he hadn’t truly ruined everything.

He passed his fingers past Damian’s forehead, carefully folding loose strands of hair away from his eyes. “Get some sleep then. It’s early, nobody will be up for a while.”

Damian was quiet for a few moments, considering. He exhaled. “You’ll wake me if—“

“You know I will,” Dick assured him softly. “Just your eyes, baby bat.”

Damian made an aggrieved noise, but made himself small while he settled into the cot.

His baby brother fell asleep in two short minutes— and a piece of Dick’s soul clicked back where it belonged.

Getting out of the medical bay was always a victory. His consistent visitors had been Damian and Alfred— while Batman and Red Robin had picked up slack on patrol, which was reasonable. Dick watched from cameras and would give occasional commentary through the comms with O.

(Jason, he hadn’t seen anywhere.)

Since the toxin, Dick had been trying to get himself back to normal. He wanted to let the memories wash away to the back of his mind where they usually were, instead of lingering on the forefront like a bad breakup.

For him, getting back to normal meant doing normal things— or, as normal as it could get. He sat on communications and bothered Bruce with his puns. He helped Alfred collect laundry. He watched animal documentaries with Damian. He practiced defense in the training room. He bothered Bruce some more.

He finally caught Tim in the kitchen, falling asleep into a bowl of cereal— bits of soggy cheerios stuck to his cheek and his hair saturated in almond milk.

Dick smiled to himself and then knocked his knuckles on the counter.

Tim lifted his head and looked up with an amount of unconcern that was almost impressive for someone who had almost drowned in their (12pm) breakfast.

“Dick,” he said, blinking a few times. “You’re out of the medbay?”

“Second day out,” Dick informed, giving a sympathetic smile. He yanked off a paper towel from the roll and wiped the milk and cereal off of Tim’s face.

“Oh.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning imperceptibly. “…Nobody told me.”

Dick made a noise of disapproval and grabbed his own bowl from the cabinets. He sat down beside Tim and poured the cereal in. “I would have been in there a lot longer if you hadn’t figured out the antidote. So, thank you.”

“You would’ve been dead, actually,” Tim corrected, stirring soggy cereal around with his spoon. “And it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.”

Dick frowned into his own bowl and poured in the milk. “Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, when you had a second. That must have been pretty stressful for you, I wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“I see you’re at the getting-to-normal stage,” Tim observed, glancing over. “I know you probably already talked to B. Definitely talked to Demon Brat, because he’s less Demon than a few days ago. Jason’s next, right?”

Dick looked up to reply, and then paused.

Tim’s face was of its usual paleness, the normal dark purple shadows painted under his eyes. He knew about Tim’s bad working habits, his insomnia, but seriously— when was the last time this boy got any sleep?

“Why can’t you be next?” Dick asked instead.

Tim scoffed, his lip lifting up in a half-smile like something was amusing to him. He shook his head. “I think you could probably find Jason in—“

“I’m serious,” Dick interrupted. He set his spoon down in the bowl, letting it clink. “You’re my brother too, Tim.”

“Sure,” Tim said with a nod. “It’s just, you know. You have to add a ‘too’, don’t you? Implying there’s an original to be added to. Which is fine, seriously. I don’t know. I’m not offended or anything— you don’t have to lie to make me feel better about something that doesn’t affect me anymore.”

Dick stared, his jaw loosely hung open as he tried to fumble together the pieces of what Tim just splayed out.

“Tim, I—“ He shook his head, feeling slightly hysterical. “Explain that again?”

Tim huffed a laugh. He pushed his bowl away from him. “We don’t have to do this, Dick. Seriously. Whatever it is, I forgive you, we don’t have to make it this big thing.”

“Tim,” Dick said sharply. Tim straightened, his tired smile gone in an instant, his eyes alert, and Dick felt a wave of regret hit him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I shouldn’t have. I just— I need you to explain. Please.”

Tim frowned and pushed his hair out of his face. “I don’t know how to explain this without you getting pissed at me. Or you.”

“Start from the beginning,” Dick said tightly, his eyes still shut. Images of blood on tile and a little boy at his doorstep kept fading in and out of view.

“My beginning, or yours?” Tim asked, a lilt of a joke on his tongue.

“When we met,” Dick answered, not understanding the question. When was the beginning not just the beginning?

“We met at—“ Tim paused. He looked over Dick with something calculative in his eyes, and his lips twitched before his entire body went still, eerily calm. “We met at your apartment. You remember. I knocked on your door until you let me in. My hands hurt.”

“And?” Dick asked painfully.

“And what? And you hated me,” Tim said, laughing grimly. “You hated that I asked you to come back to Gotham, and then you hated when I became a Robin.”

Both true, but the reasoning of it was all wrong. Dick’s face must have contorted in a truly horrifying way, because Tim quickly put his hands up.

“Hold on, I’m not saying you hate me now,” Tim explained. “I know that’s not true. Don’t worry. But I also know that we don’t have any kind of bond, right? You and Jason were special. You were the blueprint, Jason was the one to make the pattern… And I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? I was the replacement. You were even the one to decide when I wasn’t needed anymore, because then you gave the role to Damian, and he was your Robin.”

Tim finished, and slumped back in his chair with a shrug. “So, it’s fine. I know I’m important to you. I’m just not at the top of the list. I made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s not a big deal.”

He felt sick.

Dick got up from the counter and walked to the other side of the kitchen, bending over the sink, and just standing there. His hands gripped onto the porcelain edges. He kept his eyes trained on the water that dripped from the faucet.

“Dick?” Tim called out from behind him. “Shit. I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. None of this is your fault, really—“

There were a lot of questions running through his head, and he felt dizzy from the guilt racking over him in waves. He turned the faucet on to its coldest setting and splashed the water on his face.

He turned around and Tim was behind him, his eyes intense with concern, his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders up to his ears like he was ready for a war.

“Should I get Bruce? Alfred?” Tim asked carefully. “If you don’t answer, I’m getting them both, so choose wisely.”

Dick shook his head. He kept shaking his head. There was so much he needed to fix, he wasn’t sure where to even start.

“Can I hug you?”

Tim blinked. He looked him over quickly, like he was scanning for injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he gave him a very confused: “Yes?”

Dick pulled him in by the shoulders and hugged him as if it were the first time.

The more he thought about it, he actually couldn’t remember the last time that he hugged Tim. Tim always seemed to shy away from physical affection, seemed to stiffen up, so Dick had always tried to respect that.

But in the few seconds that Dick didn’t pull away, something different happened. The stiffness of Tim’s shoulders slowly eased away. He exhaled softly, and seemed to melt into touch. Hesitantly, his arms lifted to hug him back.

Dick tightened his hold and grieved every time he hadn’t been more patient, every time he hadn’t given Tim just a few seconds.

“You’re my little brother,” Dick said firmly. “No ‘too.’ I’ll make it up to you. All of it.”

“Why?” Tim mumbled.

“Because,” Dick laughed brokenly. “You thinking that you don’t mean everything to me, just like Jason and Damian do, kills me. I don’t know how I let it go on this long— but it’s done. It’s getting fixed.”

Tim was quiet for a long moment. “But I don’t know how to fix it,” he said anxiously. He pulled away, staring at Dick with those blue eyes.

The same blue eyes as before, the ones peering at him from across a dingy living room, the ones staring blearily from a blood-smeared hallway, both saying: I’m trying to pick up the pieces. There’s too many for me to hold.

His little brother: and it’s about time Dick acted like it.

“Tim.” Dick looked back at him seriously, his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “This one isn’t for you to fix, baby bird. This is my screw-up. And it looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Tim stared at him, nodded surely, and ducked back in for another hug. He’d never done that before.

Another piece of his soul moved. It wasn’t fixed, but it was healing from something he hadn’t known was broken— and he thought it would be okay.

A week, and he still couldn’t find Jason.

As it turned out, nobody had really looked. He’d been entirely radio silent since Dick’s encounter with fear toxin had been resolved with a synthesized antidote, and nobody had thought to bother him since.

Dick had been texting Babs consistently with questions of whether Jason was alright, and she’d always just sent him a simple message describing that he was safe and checking in with her on his patrol routes. Which meant he’d only been avoiding the family comms. Which meant something was wrong.

In the end, it was Alfred who had finally given him a tip. Polishing dishes with a fresh cloth, his lips pursed, he seemed to be contemplating a variety of decisions and their determined effects.

“I know he needs his space,” Dick explained, taking each plate as Alfred dried them to stack them away in the proper cabinet. “But I just have this terrible gut feeling that he’s overthinking something and that it’s my fault. Arguing is the last thing I want to do, I’m just…”

“Worried,” Alfred finished for him after a few helpless seconds. He sighed softly, setting the cloth down on the counter. “Yes. I figured as much. My hesitancy is not with your capacity to handle these things with care, Master Dick. I know you care for your brother a great deal.”

Dick frowned, leaning backwards. “What’s your hesitancy?”

Alfred met him with solemn eyes, effectively pinning him where he stood “My hesitancy is your unwavering willingness to fix things before you’re ready to fix them. You’ve been through a great deal this week, and I’m very familiar with how these particular experiences take a toll on you. Do you think you’re ready to speak with him?”

Whatever Dick had expected, this had been the last on the list. He floundered, taking in the words, and then looked down thoughtfully at his hands.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “letting this linger is hurting me more than talking about it will. I need to talk to him, Alfred. I need him to know how much this matters.”

It was apparently the right answer.

When Jason didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t much to be done about it. Crime Alley was only a small part of Gotham, but also the most dense in shadow– and if there was anything a bat could do, it would be to disappear where the light wasn’t.

With Alfred’s tip though, he found Jason in thirty minutes. The roof of a mom and pop ice-cream parlor, tucked into a city street corner between a laundromat and a piercing place. He’s a looming shadow against an air conditioning unit, and there’s a flickering glow of light coming from the cigarette between his fingertips.

Dick landed behind him, his feet soft on the asphalt. “Didn’t you quit?”

The shadow didn’t respond at first, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “Only on good days.”

Dick walked up, standing beside his brother so they were shoulder to shoulder. Jason offered the box, and Dick silently shook his head. He put the box back in his pocket without so much as a shrug.

“The hell are you doing here, Dickface?” Jason asked. He sounded tired. “Figured the big man wouldn’t have let you leave the house in costume for another week.”

“Well, what B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Jason grunted noncommittally.

Dick glanced at him through his peripheral, his mouth twisting in thoughtful complication. He thought up different ways to start a conversation. He discarded each one.

It didn’t use to be like this. Dick remembered. He remembered nudging his little brother to get him to talk, taking him out of the house– seeing his little brother’s stomping grounds, taking him to old restaurants and parks that Jason never wanted to ask Bruce about– as often as he could. Not often enough.

It used to be so easy, like it was part of him– and maybe it had been part of him. It just happened to be the part that had died with Jason.

Dick laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Jay. I used to be better at this, didn’t I?”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Jason said bluntly.

Dick shoved their shoulders together. “Come on, I’m being serious. This wasn’t always so bad, was it?”

Maybe his voice was strained. Maybe his pleading was too obvious. Maybe he shouldn’t even be asking Jason this at all— it wasn’t his fault that Dick was so miserable at being the big brother. Jason shouldn’t have to comfort him about his failures.

It was just—

He just—

“No,” Jason said after a moment. “It wasn’t.”

The relief was painful. It was hard knowing, truly knowing, that there was something so important to improve upon. That somewhere along the way, he had fallen so far from his standard.

Dick rubbed a hand over his chest, right over his heart. He pressed deep into the muscle, hard enough to feel the bone underneath. His throat felt heavy. He opened his mouth to let out an apology, but—

“Sorry,” Jason said first, his voice gruff. He kept his eyes trained on the street. His fingers fiddled around the cigarette as it burned and cinders flicked to his boots.

Dick quickly looked up at him. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” Jason gritted out. “I know that’s not what you expected to hear because you don’t give a shit about yourself, but I’m sorry. I’ll stay in my own lane from now on, you don’t need to fake it anymore.”

Dick leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows as sudden bouts of defensiveness coursed through his head. Jason leaving was the last thing he wanted, for the rest of time.

“Jason, what the hell are you talking about?” Dick strangled himself for words. He started pacing across the rooftop, tugging at his hair again. “Fuck, do all of my baby brothers think I just want them gone?”

“That’s the thing, Dick,” Jason said back, his words sharper than his knives. “I don’t even think you realize it. I think you’re just so good at ignoring your own bullshit that you don’t see how much you’re still fucking terrified of me.”

Dick stalled. He slowly turned around, his hands falling from his hair.

“Is that what this is?” Dick asked, pressing forward. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No need to get theatrical. I’m not blaming you,” Jason rolled his eyes, finally flicking the cigarette to the floor. “I’m violent, I don’t play nice. I nearly fucking killed Tim, that alone is enough to cement a piss-poor relationship. I’m not the little kid you used to take out for fuckin’ milkshakes anymore.”

Dick bit down on his tongue, watching the way Jason stumbled over his next few words. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and pulled out a new one from his pack, holding it unlit in his hands.

“I thought we’d resolved it,” Jason admitted finally. He looked up at Dick with his lips pulled into a tight smile. “Or that, at least, you didn’t totally fucking abhor me anymore? I don’t know. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I fucked up. I’m still fucking up. I’m still atoning. I know that now. So, I say again, genuinely. I’m sorry.”

Dick stared at him for a long moment, feeling fire in his blood. An uncomfortable heat in his head that made him sick from pressure, a volcano that didn’t know where to burst from. He took a steadying breath and shut his eyes.

“Sit down,” he said.

Jason scoffed. “What?”

“Sit down,” Dick said again, and slumped next to him on the floor. He extended his legs out and leaned back on his palms. “Please.”

Jason slowly crouched down to join him. He leaned his back against the air conditioning unit again. There was a tenseness to him, his jaw set in a firm line. He wouldn't hesitate to start fighting again, if the conversation called for it.

They sat quietly while Dick put his thoughts in order, Jason fidgeting in an obvious discomfort.

“When I got hit with the toxin, I saw the circus,” Dick said. “Damian and I were on the trapeze.”

Dick had told him once, about the circus. Had showed him the pictures of his parents, had told him why Bruce really adopted him. Told him about Zucco. About Robin. About all of it. Jason knew what it all meant to him. He knew.

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he sighed heavily. “Shit. You don’t have to—“

“Damian fell. I caught him, but it wasn’t enough,” Dick continued, growing louder over Jason’s interruptions. “He was bleeding, he had a concussion, it was bad. That was when you showed up to help. And you took him, you asked what happened. You figured out I hadn’t saved him, and you said that—“

His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, determined to continue. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. That’s why it hurt so much.”

“You weren’t hurt. You were terrified, Dickie,” Jason said lowly, looking at him with haunted eyes. “What the hell could I have said to make you so fucking scared?”

Dick hesitated, letting a shiver run over him as he thought back to the hallucination. He made a complicated sound. “That's not the point, though, is it? You don’t really want to know that.”

“No,” Jason decided quietly. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“The point is,” Dick leaned forward, looking right at him. Making himself as clear as he could be. “I was never afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Jason croaked weakly. “I’m no good. I always have been.”

“No, Jay,” Dick shook his head vehemently and lightly nudged his side. “You’ve always been good. Always. More than good, even. Magic.”

Jason barked out a wet laugh, covering his eyes with his hand. “I said it one time. You’re such an asshole.”

“But it’s true,” Dick smiled, his eyes bleary. “From way back when you were all bony elbows and small enough for me to haul over my shoulder, you’ve been magic. You made me who I am, Jason. We have quite the big crew now, but you’ll always be the one who made me a big brother. Once upon a time it was just the two of us. That means something.”

“I ruined you,” Jason argued roughly, his voice cracking up faster than he can repair it. He swallowed. “You said it yourself, all this shit used to be easier before. I fucked it all up.”

Dick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t fuck it up. I can prove it too: we’re both still here, and against all odds, you’re by my side. That tells me more than anything that we can still salvage this.”

“Do you really want that?” Jason asked dryly.

“Jason, the years I didn’t have you next to me were the worst ones of my life,” Dick said, the humor leaving him completely. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like I was always a day away from giving up. Now that I have you back again…”

He trailed off, and they both fell into a silence. Words intoned. Words left unsaid. Jason nudged him with the toe of his boot, a nonverbal sign of acknowledgement. A physical sign that he was still there. Dick nodded once, and Jason looked away.

“You know,” Dick said after a moment. “I actually think I have something that can fix this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Jason sniffed, cocking his head to the side. His eyes red-rimmed, but focused. “D’you got emotional superglue in that fucking utility belt?”

“Close,” Dick said, and wiped his face of all tears. He pulled out his wallet, and held up a twenty dollar bill. “I have it on good authority that milkshakes fix everything.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, staring at the money in hand. “Well, shit. When you put it like that…”

Dick wiggled his eyebrows, and Jason cracked an indulgent smile.

Just like that, it became easy again. A familiar song played on rusty strings. Their eyes still red, their voices still raw— they hauled themselves up by eachother’s arms and started again.

As they bump shoulders on their way through the front door, the last piece of his soul jostled into its rightful place.

"Little Wing, you know I love you, right?" Dick asked, stirring his milkshake aimlessly with a frosted metal straw.

Jason looked up the crummy diner table and stared for a long moment, before relenting.

"Yeah," he said easily. He had chocolate on the corners of his mouth, just like a little kid, like nothing had ever changed at all. "I know, Dickie."

Dick smiled and nodded to himself.

Yes, every piece of his soul where it should be. Even if cracked and dented in odd places, they were all there. Finally, he felt like the world was righted.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 79

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Wednesday, April 13; 1:30 PM - Batlle House

The sun is shining. The weather has been wonderfully beautiful since we arrived here. It's pleasant. My only regret is that half of our time here has already passed. We've made the most of it, especially with hiking. I've never walked so much in just a few days. Lucy loves it, and I must admit, I’ve started to enjoy it too. From where we are, we have a lot of nature around, so I show her everything we can see.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Lucy asks me after putting the last plate in the dishwasher.

We just finished eating. I sent my grandfather to take his nap. He never wants to admit it, but he gives more than he should. He doesn't seem to understand that he's getting old. I'm glad we're here. We've been able to help him with a lot of things.

“Well, I was thinking you could take care of the car this afternoon.”

“Are you sure? You might get really bored.”

“Oh no. I'll play assistant, and I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch you,” I giggle.

She smiles, nodding her head. She kept her promise to my grandfather by checking under the hood on the first day. According to her, some sensors needed to be replaced if he wanted the car to last. Of course, my grandfather agreed and gave us money to get the parts that same day. However, the parts had to be ordered, and they arrived this morning, so we might as well take care of it right away.

“OK, let’s do that then.”

“And maybe after that, we can…”

She turns her head while washing her hands. I swallow hard.

“I think I’m ready.”

She smiles at my words. She turns fully after grabbing a towel to dry her hands.

“OK. We’ll go see him afterward. And if you want, we can spend the evening at the beach again tonight. The full moon will be at its peak, so we shouldn't miss that, right?”

I smile back and go to embrace her. Yes, it was time for me to go see him. Lucy kisses my forehead. She understood well that I wasn’t the most comfortable at first, but now that we’ve spent some days here, I feel more at ease. Her presence has been really reassuring.

“Well, I’m going to find some clothes before we head out,” she announces, kissing my forehead.

“Can I come with you?”

“Yes, of course.”

We head upstairs to my room. I sit on the bed while Lucy rummages through her things. I watch her intently as she changes in front of me. That tease has been toying with me for days. We kiss a lot before sleeping, or to put it another way, we heat things up, only for nothing to happen. I must admit, this little game is starting to get very frustrating. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone this much.

“Everything alright, babe?” she teases gently.

“No. You’re such a tease.”

“Oh, really? A tease?” she giggles.

“Yes.”

“And you’re the one saying that?”

“What do you mean by that?”

She narrows her eyes playfully as she approaches me. I lean back on my elbows as she hovers over me.

“I mean it’s harder for me to hold back than you think.”

I give in to her lips when she kisses me. The moment is short-lived as she pulls away. I groan in frustration.

“Babe!”

“Stop complaining,” she laughs. “We’ve got things to do today. Plus, your grandfather is sleeping in the next room.”

“All the more reason to—”

“Do nothing,” she finishes my sentence. “I’m heading down. Do what you want until then.”

She leaves first, and of course, I follow with a sulky look. She’s opened the car hood in the driveway to start the repairs while I watch, sitting on the grass. Buzz is with us. He’s been following us everywhere. Lucy loved bringing him along on our hikes.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious about the idea of getting a dog?”

“Well yes, why? We both seem to love them.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Oh, you’re not mad about that, are you? They say a dog is man’s best friend.”

“And do you believe that?”

“Well, yeah. I grew up with a dog, so obviously.”

“Really? What was his name?”

“Hercules.”

“Hercules?” I chuckle.

“Hey, don’t mock it. He was very loyal.”

“No, but Hercules, really?”

I burst out laughing, lying on the ground.

“Are you done?” Lucy scolds me.

Her serious demeanor can’t last when she sees me laughing. A smile stretches across her lips, and she drops the parts she was holding. She wipes her hands on a rag. My girlfriend is such a badass. Why do I feel like she doesn’t even realize it?

“Really, it’s not cool. I loved him.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect that. Seriously, Hercules... But it’s cute in its own way.”

“Right,” she laughs. “Don’t make fun of me.”

I smile like an idiot. I feel so happy. It’s strange being away from school, but at the same time, I love this life—just being us. I calm down when I see she’s no longer paying attention to me. She leans back against the car just as a voice calls out.

“Ona...?”

I frown. I sit up before turning around. I hesitate for a moment before recognizing the person in front of me, who seems to have recognized me right away.

“Hey,” I greet awkwardly.

“Ona Batlle. I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d see you again.”

I awkwardly get up to greet Nick, my childhood friend. We must have been so small when we met. We literally grew up together before I moved away.

“Hey!”

I giggle as he lifts me up when I thought we were just going to exchange a hug. We look each other up and down. After all, the last time we saw each other, we must have been twelve. Our parents divorced at the same time, and he left to live with his mother, just like I did. He’s grown. He’s even taller than me now, and let’s just say he’s become very handsome. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s an athlete now. He loved football back then. I recognize his short brown hair and his green eyes.

“Wow,” he laughs. “I can’t believe you’re here. And… seeing you like this… you’ve become a beautiful woman. It’s incredible.”

I laugh nervously at his admiration, playfully hitting his shoulder. It’s a bit awkward. We always had a strong bond between us. We went through some of the same struggles. I always loved being adventurous with him. A throat clearing brings me back to reality. We turn to my girlfriend, who’s watching us with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, uh. Nick, this is Lucy, my girlfriend. Lucy, this is Nick, a childhood friend.”

He seems taken aback, but his surprise quickly turns into a smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” he repeats. “A lot has changed, I see... But honestly, I’m not even surprised.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? Why does everyone keep saying that?”

He laughs heartily, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh come on, you were quite the tomboy back then. You hated hanging out with girls your age. You were always tagging along with me and my group of friends.”

“I wasn’t tagging along! You’re the one who always took me with you!” I reply quickly with a little laugh.

I calm down as I feel Lucy’s arms wrap around me. I lean into her, smiling at Nick.

“What are you doing here? I thought you moved away with your mom?”

“Yeah… That was before she passed away from cancer.”

“Nick...”

“No, don’t say anything,” he smiles sadly. “It must be just as hard as losing your father... your grandfather told me everything when I got back.”

I nod. Unlike me, Nick got to leave with the right parent. He was happy to be able to leave the family home.

- When did you come back?

- Two years ago. It was strange at first. I had to find my footing again, and you weren’t there…

We look at each other for a few seconds, and he seems uncomfortable. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say at the moment.

- But anyway, everything's fine now. I’m an athlete at university, I have a girlfriend, and I try to stay busy when I’m not doing anything. Did you know your grandfather can’t be stopped once you start helping him? I’d be careful if I were you, he warns my girlfriend, who giggles.

- Thanks for the warning.

- And you? Are you staying long?

- No, just this week, actually.

- That’s all? So, what about you? Here I am talking about myself, and I haven’t even let you speak. I already know you’ve managed to snag a beautiful woman, so that’s something. Do you live together?

I glance at Lucy, who looks much more relaxed than before. I smile and run my fingers across her cheek when I notice a black smudge.

- Sort of, yeah. In Manchester.

- Manchester? he laughs. Seriously? I thought you hated the cold?

- She still does.

- Stop, you’re exaggerating, I giggle. I’ve gotten used to it.

- And what about your mom?

- She still lives in Barcelona, with Marcus and Joan, my little brother. And she’s getting married next month.

- Wow, all that. I didn’t expect so much. A wedding? And a little brother, really?

- Yeah, well, half-brother technically. He’s going to turn seven.

- Wow. It’s been years. Almost as long as we haven’t spoken.

- Almost, yeah…

We exchange a small smile. I know it’s strange for both of us. Honestly, Nick is someone special to me. He holds my first kiss, which we shared when we each moved away. We were close, undeniably, and it feels a bit strange seeing him again now. Lucy takes the opportunity to slip her arm around my shoulders. I suppress a smile. I know she can’t help herself—it’s crazy. She’s really jealous of anyone.

- Are you still here this weekend? It’s just, I’m throwing a party on Friday night, you know, and I’d love for you to come.

- Uh... I would’ve loved to—

- Oh no, not that line again, he replies, rolling his eyes. Some things never change, it seems.

I laugh, nodding.

- Sorry. We won’t be able to make it.

- When are you leaving?

- Saturday afternoon. We’re heading to Porto to see Lucy’s parents.

- Oh, so you’re Portuguese too? And seeing your parents? Your relationship seems solid.

- It is, I say with a small smile.

- I’m happy for you.

- And you, with your girlfriend?

- It’s not as serious. I mean, it’s been a year now, but we’re not thinking about moving in together or anything like that. We’re taking our time.

- I see. Still commitment issues, huh?

- A bit, yeah. Looks like you’ve managed to get over that, he says, gesturing toward us.

- Let’s just say... you have to find the right person.

- Yeah, he chuckles. I’ll try to remember that. So... we won’t see each other this weekend?

- No, I’m sorry, I say with a small smile.

- A lot has changed, huh?

I nod softly. I can tell he’s changed too. He’s no longer the carefree kid I used to get into trouble with.

- Yeah. It was really great to see you again, though.

- Me too. Maybe we could... I don’t know, exchange numbers? I mean, if Lucy doesn’t mind. It’s just, I think it would be nice to talk to someone who understands me from time to time.

- I don’t mind, she says. It’s not like she can cheat on me between two country.

I smile and accept the kiss Lucy gives me before she lets go. She understands he’s not a threat. At least, I hope so. She goes back to what she was doing while I exchange numbers with Nick.

- Well... I hope it won’t be another eight years before we see each other again.

- We’ll try to avoid that, I say with a small smile. See you soon, and take care of yourself.

- Yeah... You too.

We share one last hug before I sit back down on the grass. Buzz immediately settles between my legs. He hovered around Nick a lot. He must be familiar to him. Still, my grandfather never mentioned him to me. It’s strange.

- So... Nick, huh? Lucy begins. How many more of those do you have up your sleeve?

- What? I giggle.

- I thought it was just Mapi and Feli before me.

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.

- Careful what you say, baby. You know you’re a terrible liar, and I’m no fool. Do you really want me to lose trust in you over this?

I close my mouth. I hate it when she catches me off guard like that. She turns away, arms crossed. OK, so she’s really serious. I was about to tell a little lie, but I didn’t think it would matter this much.

- Nick was like... I don’t know... my big brother...?

She raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t look convinced. OK... She knows there’s more. And honestly, who wouldn’t? I know there’s a kind of connection with him. We went through a lot together, like our parents’ fights. There was even one day when we ran away... Well, we hid out at my grandparents’ store and went home that night because we were hungry, but still, it was with him. We have memories together, like no one else.

- He was my first kiss...

- First kiss, huh...

My honesty earns a big sigh. I quickly try to recover.

- Don’t make a big deal out of it, please. It wasn’t that great, if you want to know the truth.

- Of course, she says dramatically. You expect me to believe that, given the man he’s become?

She turns back to her tasks, grumpy. I love her jealousy so much. I get up, forcing Buzz to move from his comfy spot between my legs. I apologize with a gentle pat on his head before moving toward my girlfriend. I wrap my arms around her body, which tenses at the contact.

- Come on, baby... Don’t sulk over this. I swear you kiss way better than he does, better than anyone, actually. At least you don’t have acne or braces.

My remark earns a small amused sigh. That’s already a good reaction. I kiss her exposed neck, which makes her straighten up.

- Sorry... she begins, turning around. It’s just that...

She avoids my gaze. I don’t like seeing her so... fragile. I run my hand through her hair.

- I don’t like it.

- You don’t like what? That there were people before you?

- No, she sighs, running her hand through her hair. I know there were others, that’s normal. I don’t know. I just feel vulnerable when you see people who meant something to you. It’s like I feel... like I’m nothing.

- Wow, I chuckle. Are you out of your mind?

I gently make her lift her head. She really does seem vulnerable right now.

- Don’t think that, baby. You’re my everything. How can you even think otherwise?

She sighs, shrugging.

- Will you... will you always love me, even after you really know who I am?

I raise an eyebrow. She seems so worried.

- What do you mean?

- I mean, the girl who left Portugal isn’t the one you see standing in front of you. Well... she is, but not entirely. I’m sure my parents are going to remind you of the clichés I used to be.

Oooh... So, she’s worried about going home. I smile at the realization. It’s really too cute. I thought I was the only one feeling this way, but she hides it well.

- What exactly are you hiding from me?

- We all have a past, Ona...

2

- Hey, are you done? I’m not the kind of person who’s going to push you away for some random reason, OK? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Is this what you’re always scared of when you get in your moods?

She stays silent for a moment before relaxing.

- Yeah, a bit. I feel like I don’t deserve you. Like my old self doesn’t deserve you.

- Don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and I mean it. I don’t care who you used to be. The only one that matters is the person standing in front of me right now.

She takes a deep breath and nods. I gently stroke her cheek and kiss her tenderly, pressing a bit harder to show her all my passion. I can’t help but smile when she reacts with a soft moan. Naturally, she flips me over to take control.

- You really can’t stand it when I’m in charge, can you? I tease with a laugh.

- Not particularly, she whispers.

- Is that also because of your past? I tease her again.

Instead of answering, she kisses me roughly once more. For some reason, I have a feeling I hit the nail on the head. But I don’t say anything, letting her take the lead. It feels too good to interrupt.

- So, Nick...

I burst into laughter, wrapping my arms around her neck. She’s unbelievable, seriously.

- I was 10, Luce. He didn’t even matter, not even a little.

- Like a big brother, she murmurs.

- Yes, exactly. Like a big brother, I confirm with a small smile.

- Why did you turn down the party? We both know we could’ve gone.

- Why? Well, simply because I want to spend as much time as possible with my girlfriend, you see. That’s why we’re here, after all.

- OK, she whispers. Fine, I’m going to finish fixing up this old bike, and then we can go for a walk in town.

- Hallelujah!

Wednesday, April 13th; 6:00 PM - Cemetery

Here we are. I’m scared. The moment I’ve been dreading is finally happening. I even feel myself trembling in Lucy’s steady hand. I delayed this as much as possible, dragging us all over town this afternoon. But it’s time to go now.

- Do you want me to wait here? Lucy offers.

- No. I need you with me.

- Alright, she whispers.

I don’t move. I’m taking my time to gather the courage. I appreciate Lucy’s patience too. It takes a good ten minutes before I finally lead us inside. I’ve only been here once, but I could find his grave with my eyes closed. Row eleven, grave six. The path is short. We’re there before I’ve even had time to mentally prepare. We stand in silence, but Lucy’s presence reassures me. I’m surprised to see his grave so well-kept. There are even flowers on it. Maybe Grandpa... or Leila. I asked him about her, and he said she still visits town from time to time. I haven’t had the courage to reach out to her. Too many memories would resurface. Yet, I have so many questions for her. Lost in these thoughts, I bend down to place my white rose. Lucy waits a moment before doing the same. She insisted on getting one too, right after we did the shopping for tonight. She didn’t know him, but her gesture touches me deeply. I wait for her to stand back up before nestling into her arms. I take a deep breath as Lucy rubs my back. Her presence is vital to me. It’s hard being here, facing his photo, knowing he’s really six feet under. It’s different from mourning him in Miami. This feels real.

- He would’ve been proud of you, you know?

- I hope so, I murmur. He would’ve adored you.

- Really?

I smile softly. I’m glad I brought her here. She’s trying to take my mind off things, and it’s working.

- Yeah... He accepted everyone in my life as long as they made me happy.

She nods in understanding.

- Did he know about...

- My sexuality? Yeah. For some reason, he figured it out right away. Well... I did talk a lot about Mapi with a dreamy smile on my face.

- And... how did it go?

- I didn’t even have to tell him. We were at the dinner table one night when I came back here. After I rambled on about the things Mapi and I had done, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Sweetie, is she your girlfriend? Because, you know, I wouldn’t mind if she is.”

I mimic his line, making Lucy laugh. I smile too. I really have nothing to complain about in that area. He accepted me, completely. All he cared about was that I was happy. The only thing that truly mattered to him was that I remembered the importance of family and loved ones. I get that now. That’s why he left me so many promises to keep—like with Mom and Joan...

- He was the only man I knew with such a big heart. So yes... he would’ve adored you, especially knowing how you saved me.

- I think it would’ve been mutual, she whispers.

We stay like that for a while. Normally, I would’ve poured out my heart, but with Lucy here, I don’t. We just enjoy the quiet. Eventually, the night starts to fall, signaling we’ve been here for at least an hour. Lucy really has extraordinary patience.

- Let’s go, I murmur.

- Are you sure? We can stay longer.

- No, it’s alright, I assure you. Thank you for coming with me.

- OK... she breathes. Let’s go then.

I’ll probably come back on my own another time. Lucy loves her morning walks on the beach, so I’ll take advantage of that. Hand in hand, we head back home. We set up a little camp on the beach earlier. We wanted to prepare for tonight with a campfire. We bought barbecue supplies and even marshmallows. It’s shaping up to be a great evening. As we arrive, Buzz runs up to greet us. Lucy says she’ll handle the fire while I gather some blankets. It’s getting chilly, and the last thing we need is to catch a cold...

5

- "Oh no. I'll leave you two alone tonight," my grandfather declines. "The neighbor invited me to dinner anyway."  

- "Really? Nick's dad?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon, by the way. Why didn’t you tell me he was back?"  

- "Oh, I didn’t want to worry you with that. Did he tell you about his mother?"  

- "Yes," I sighed. "How are things between him and his father?"  

In fact, I had thought a lot about it this afternoon. His father was an alcoholic, which was the main reason his mother filed for divorce. Since he kept the house, I knew he’d gotten sober and even remarried, but I doubt his forced return brought any joy, knowing Nick.  

- "Nick is a good boy," he replied. "He’s struggling with the situation, but he channels his anger in a positive way. He’s rarely home. Actually, he often comes here to help me fix a few things. Or he takes Buzz for a walk."  

- "Yeah, he told me."  

I chuckled, remembering what he had added. Honestly, I think he’s happy to spend time here. It’s like a kind of refuge. I also understand why Buzz loves him so much too.  

- "Will he be with you tonight?" I asked.  

- "No. I think he’s going to his girlfriend’s."  

- "Okay..." I murmured. "Too bad."  

I would have invited him with us if I had known. I think Lucy wouldn’t have minded.  

- "Well, I’m heading out then. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?"  

- "Oh, no no. I really meant it when I said you two should enjoy yourselves together."  

- "You’re not a bother if that’s what worries you."  

- "Ona, sweetheart. It’s fine, I promise. Look, I’ve already got the wine to bring to the neighbor’s."  

- "Okay, I won’t insist anymore. You know where to find us if you need anything."  

- "Yes, yes," he laughed.  

I left to join my girlfriend and... Buzz. That dog has completely forgotten about me in favor of my girlfriend. He adores her. Well, she does take him running every morning. He must feel alive again in just a week. Though, not as much after what I just learned.  

- "He didn’t want to come?" my girlfriend asked when she saw me alone.  

- "No. Mister got himself invited by the neighbor," I joked.  

- "Oh. Well, that’s good. At least now you know he still has a social life."  

- "True... when you put it like that," I giggled.  

I spread a blanket on the ground. Lucy set up some kind of tent, or something you could call one. It’s more like a tarp, really, but it’s pretty cool. It shields us from the wind later at night. I smiled as she was already turning sausages over the fire. It’s simply perfect. Plus, the sun was finally setting, giving us a stunning sunset. I really feel like I’m on vacation.  

- "I brought you a sweater if you want," I told her, showing the clothing in my hand.  

- "Thanks."  

She quickly slipped it on over her t-shirt. I didn’t want to grab anything more, even though she was in shorts and flip-flops. She admitted to me that she loved feeling the sand under her feet. As for me, I stole one of her sweatshirts and a pair of bermuda shorts. They’re a bit big, but I feel so comfortable in her clothes. They smell so much like her, it’s delightful.  

- "Come sit," I said, patting the spot next to me after sitting down myself.  

- "Two minutes. Let me finish here first. Hey, check the cooler and get us something to drink."  

I smiled and nodded. To be honest, we bought a bottle of champagne. Who knows why. In any case, I happily popped the cork and poured us two glasses. Meanwhile, Lucy had prepared two plates for us. The evening went on. We talked, we laughed, never losing sight of the waves and the setting sun in front of us. Our legs constantly touched. We rubbed, we caressed each other, until the blanket ended up over our shoulders after we got rid of the plates and empty glasses. If time could stop, I would let it.  

- "Do you... do you think you know everything Feli did to me?"  

My question broke the peaceful silence. I was completely slumped on Lucy, who was supporting both our weights. She didn’t answer right away. The truth is, I need to know. Mapi was right in a way. I can’t hide it from her forever.  

- "I think so, yes," she murmured.  

I turned around at her words to straddle her. I needed to look into her eyes if I was going to tell her. Her hands instinctively rested on my thighs. It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled away from her touch, and it feels good. I feel like I’m coming back to life, able to accept any kind of contact.  

- "You don’t have to tell me, Ona... I’ve understood. You wouldn’t have been so broken otherwise."  

I nodded as a few tears welled up in my eyes. I had never dared to say it out loud. Saying it would mean acknowledging it. Yet here, with her, I just feel at peace.  

- "I-I want her to pay. F-for her violence, her acts, and those r-rapes too. Y-you’re absolutely right. S-she doesn’t deserve to get away with it."  

Lucy nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. With her other hand, she stroked my back, sending shivers down my spine. But my decision was made. I want to take her to court. I’m ready to do it now. I know it’s the last thing I need to do to close this chapter of my life.  

- "It’s going to be hard, you know that, right?"  

I nodded. I felt shaky because I knew many wounds would reopen, but I knew it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t deserve to get away unscathed.  

- "I-I can do it, with you."  

I looked at her pleadingly, but her small smile said it all. She had been waiting for this, for me to free myself from my past. It had been a long time since she wanted to reopen the case my mother had prepared for me back then.  

- "We’ll do it together, I promise you, my love."  

Gently, she laid me down on my back, coming to rest over me. She kissed me tenderly before whispering:  

- "You are the strongest woman I know. I’m so proud of you."  

I let myself be carried away by her soft lips. Everything had changed so much in just a few seconds. Everything became sensual. I clung desperately to her neck as her hand roamed freely over my body. I caught my breath when she started playing with the hem of my bermuda shorts.  

- "Are you kidding?" I whispered, amused.  

I was dying to, after such an emotional moment, but we were out in nature. It wasn’t reasonable.  

- "What? Don’t you like adventure?" she teased between kisses on my neck. "You know I wouldn’t do it in the house."  

- "Someone could see us," I replied, without actually stopping her hand from sliding down.  

The temptation was just too strong.  

- "There’s the tarp," she murmured, still kissing my neck.  

I gasped when she reached my... soaked heart. Yes, that’s the right word.  

- "Dare tell me you don’t want this," she whispered. "Just be discreet this time."  

- "Oh, you’re talking about me?" I managed to say, shivering at her first caresses. "Let’s see who can control themselves better."  

I followed my words by unbuttoning her shorts. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this night is going to be long... A long night filled with love under a starry sky

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Eyes On Me

A/N: Lol I don't even know what to say 💀 this came to me 30 minutes after I woke up because @wakandamama and @daydreamgoddess14 have rotted my brain at the idea of SydCarmy. I've been trying to finish this Terry Richmond fic for days but I had to get this out 🥲

Pairing: Carmen x Sydney

Genre/Warning: 18+, its juuuuuust smut so minors kindly fuck off

Words: 932, short and sweet to get me back used to posting

Alright have at it 💕

“Eyes on me Sydney” she let out an exasperated groan at that, knowing that if she opened her eyes to watch him drill into her, watch his intense blue gaze take in her squirming form underneath him, tatted arms stretched taught, strong hands gripping her hips firmly, his own hips thrusting into her with wet, obscene smacks-

If she had to look at that while feeling how fucking good he was digging into her, she’d simply explode! She’d die right on the spot.

“Carmy-“ her breathing was so labored, voice coming out surprisingly whiny for her “-I can’t! I really can’t, it’s too much.” 

She bit her pouting lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration from trying so hard not to cum yet. Her hands stretched over her head to prevent him from fucking her into the headboard that kisses the wall with each thrust, and her tits bounced hypnotically with his consistent pounding. Sydney looked so pretty like this.

He smiled softly, taking pity on his brilliant girl turned cum hungry, fucked out slut. He slowed his thrust to a sensual grind, rolling and snapping his hips in a way that had her tossing her head side to side with a cute squeal. 

“Aww I’ve seen you do hard things pretty girl, you can take it” he released one of her hips to bring his thumb to her clit, it was still wet and swollen from how he’d tasted her earlier, and this brought the sexiest moan of his name from between her lips. 

“Eyes up here Chef. I won’t ask you again.”

Sydney gasped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly in pleasure before opening them to stare into his with a squeaky “yes Chef”

He had a sweet smile on his face, skin glistening with exertion, picking up his steady pace again as his thumb worked her button faster. 

“There you are, I wanted to see you Syd. Wanted to see you fall apart for me.” Oh he sounds so good, and he feels so good, and she wishes she could slap that stupid smile off his face for how he’s making her go brain dead. She should’ve known he’d be the type to talk her through it. 

“Carmy!” She pleaded with her eyes, “I’m so close, I need-“

“Shhh shhh I got you pretty girl, I know exactly what you need” both his hands lovingly smoothed up her thighs, climbing higher over the curves of her torso and perky breasts, up her arms to grab her hands. His eyes stayed locked on her, his face now hovering above her own. 

He continued to thrust into her, grinding his hips every time he bottomed out in her, making sure his happy trail grazed her swollen clit each time. This had her eyes rolling to the back of her head with her sweet moans falling right into his waiting lips so near hers.

“Ah ah my pretty chef, I said eyes on me” his blues were cocky and playful now, her browns were teary and desperate and soo pretty. “And wrap those long legs around me, open up this tight pussy for me”

She’d joke with him later about him being bossy even in bed, but she absolutely wrapped her legs around him and squeezed around him, this new angle making her needy pussy sing louder. 

“Aww listen to that! Fuck, she’s so wet Syd. Am I making you feel good chef? This what you needed from me?” He gave her a quick kiss and pulled back, waiting for her answer. His hips snapping more excitedly with more vigor was the only indicator that he was just as affected by her, her obvious pleasure egging him on.

“Oh my fuck yes, yes yes please, I’m so close!” He folded her arms above her head and placed his elbows on them, further caging her in underneath him as he started to slam into her. His forehead on hers, she had nowhere to hide from him. 

“Give me that fucking cum then Sydney, let me feel it pretty girl. I need you to-“ she wailed loudly, pussy gushing and spasming all over his dick, getting him so lewdly wet, and it felt so very good to him.

“Fuuuck that’s it! Good girl, that’s my good Chef.” He lifted up slightly to bring one hand down to her clit, prolonging her orgasm as her pussy massaged his dick just right.

“You’re brilliant you know that Sydney? Just so good for me. You’re gonna make me cum pretty girl” she’s nodding frantically, breath coming out in such cute huffs as she could focus on nothing but the pleasure he was pulling outta her.

His blue eyes found her gaze in the midst of her pleasure and he looked so strained trying to hold back “you’re gripping me just right baby, where the fuck do you want my cum hmm?” She could hardly speak, it was all so much.

“Inside Carmy, just-“ he cut her off with a biting kiss, groaning with such relief as he emptied into her. They’d deal with the consequences later, right now this was all he wanted to feel, to just be surrounded by her. And surround him she did, cumming again moaning his name into the heated kiss. 

His lips slowed as his hips did, pulling that last bit of pleasure out of them both. He broke the kiss to pepper sweet little kisses all over her face then pulled back slightly to look at her.  He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Good? She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes playfully. Duh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mkayyy lemme know what you think 😇 Ive got Carmen, Terry Richmond, and Rio from Good Girls fighting for attention in my head but I have a feeling Terry is gonna win so let me know if you wanna be on the taglist for that!

Also I've been wanting to write more sapphic fics I just haven't found any characters that really inspire me 😮‍💨 please hit up my asks/dms if you have any ideas

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

This is also me shamelessly submitting another request alongside my very NSFW one: could we get Raphael being there while Tav gives birth?

Tav paced back and forth, hands resting on her swollen belly. Each time a contraction tore through her she would grimace, bend forward as much as possible, and bear it with whatever dignity she scrounged up. When the pain passed, she’d resume pacing.

“Mistress,” said the Infernal physician, “perhaps you should lay down -”

“No,” barked Tav. “I don’t want to lay down.”

“So you intend to wear a trench into my floors instead?” Drawled Raphael.

“Yes,” replied Tav, glaring daggers at him.

“Mistress,” the physician tried again, “it would be easier for both you and the child if you -”

“I’m not bloody laying down,” growled Tav. “I’ve been laying down for the last three months of pregnancy. I need to move around or I’m going to cut this baby out of my stomach myself.”

“You won’t change her mind,” Raphael said lightly, “she’s a stubborn creature. She’ll do things her way until she simply cannot any longer.”

The physician sighed, rubbing her eyes.

Tav’s waters had broken several hours ago – much to poor Haarlep’s horror. Raphael was away on business at the time, but as soon as word reached him that his first offspring was about to be born, he’d burst back into the house, physician in tow. The birthing room had been ready for a few days, Tav slightly exceeding her due date, so the three had sequestered inside. Now it was simply a waiting game. The physician hovered nearby. Raphael sat in a plush, comfy chair, seeming to all the world as indifferent and relaxed as usual. Only the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his potential anxiety.

It felt like the entire House of Hope, even every wailing soul within the walls, were holding their breaths. Teetering on the edge of anticipation for the ushering in of a new era: the birth of a prince.

“Ah…!” Tav stopped in her tracks. Hissed as fresh, furious pain wracked her. Different, sharper than before. It didn’t fade. “I think…argh, I think he’s coming…!”

The physician touched Tav’s belly, felt lower, between her thighs. “Yes. You’re open enough. I feel his head. You need to get into the water.”

The physician helped Tav out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and in to the bathing pool of hot water. Raphael watched intently, his onyx and ember eyes never blinking, as Tav – teeth gritted – eased herself into a sitting position, knees up and apart. The water and its soothing magic helped, but the baby wanted out, now. Demanding, just like his father, and damn was she feeling it.

“Gods…he finally decides he’s ready and he’s just going to…to rip right through me…” Tav panted. Curled her fists. Cried out as a violent contraction signalled the end, and the beginning.

“Start pushing,” instructed the physician. Tav groaned, a sound that morphed into a dull scream. Raphael stood up, crossed the room, standing close. His tail thrashed wildly but his expression remained neutral. Tav gave him a foul, pained look.

“This is your fault,” she snarled, slapping her palms on the sides of the bath. “I’ll kill you for this, I swear it.”

“Of course you will, darling,” purred Raphael.

He was not indifferent to her suffering, she knew. Part of him enjoyed it. That she was agonising to bring their – his – son into life only made her pain taste sweeter. It was the simple truth of Raphael’s nature. Something Tav had accepted long ago. Birthing this baby was the scariest thing she’d ever done, scarier than coming to terms with how she felt for a diabolical devil, that she was willing to give him her soul and her heart. Even facing down the Netherbrain didn’t compare. She was hurting and she was frightened, but Raphael was there, strong and assured and steady, and Tav knew she could get through it.

Not without one Hell of a fuss, however.

“GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF ME!” She bellowed between screams.

“Keep pushing!” Yelled the physician.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Tav roared back.

“Push, Tav,” Raphael intoned. Commanded. “Let our son’s life begin.”

Eventually, amidst the blood and pain and chaos, it did. A wrinkled, wet and wailing infant was placed on Tav’s chest and she, exhausted and delirious, loved him instantly and irrevocably.

“Healthy,” declared the physician, “and strong. Very strong.”

Tav tiredly adjusted her baby, who latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. His thin, ropey little tail curled. Raphael looked down at them, smug and preening with pride. He would never be the type to offer her his hand to squeeze for comfort, or become overly emotional and adoring of his new son, but he was there. He stayed. And those things mattered more to Tav than her pride would ever let her admit.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

so I watched The Losers (yes, because I wanted to gawk at JDM for 90 minutes) and I kept noticing how much he held his partner's hand in it😭💕 and so of course I had to write a lil drabble about this but with Negan lmao

tags: mentions of nudity, aftercare, established relationship, this is seriously just goofy idk why I wrote this

I didn’t proof read this, pls be kind xoxoxoxoxoxo

word count: 950

Bated breaths, shaky legs and a whole lot of sweat. That’s how your night has been going. 

The trail of discarded clothes that leads to the bed is a testament to the passion of the last few hours. Catching your breath, the cool air caresses your bare skin as you sprawl out on the soft bed sheets.

Beside you is Negan, his breathing just as ragged. You both lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling and completely worn out. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of your mingled breaths of recovery.

A hum escapes your lips when you feel Negan’s touch. His hand finds yours, fingers interlocking in a gentle embrace. Negan lets out a content sigh, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he remarks “Now that was quite a workout”.

He runs his other hand through his tousled hair as parts begin to curl and flick out in different directions. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a week,” you groan, though you’re not complaining.

Negan chuckles, nudging you closer to him “Guess I did a damn good job then, huh?”. Taking the hint, you roll over, momentarily letting go of his hand as you reposition yourself.

You pay no attention to the brief pout that crosses Negan’s face. His shift of expression only lasts momentarily, quickly fading once you take his hand again and interlock your fingers with his. 

“You wanna have a bath?” Negan offers. He knows you’re both exhausted but the thought of sharing a moment of intimacy with you in the suds has its own allure.

“Honestly? I think I just wanna change into something comfy and sleep until noon” you admit, the prospects of a bath sounding more like a chore than a luxury. Tomorrow you’ll shower and start fresh. Tonight, after the last few rounds you’ve had, you just want to sleep.

“Sounds like a plan” he agrees with a weary grin. 

With a groan, you move to get up, giving Negan’s hand a small squeeze as you go to release your grip. But you don’t. You can’t. As you sit up on the bed, your hand stays entangled with Negan’s.

You glance down at your joined hands and then back up at him.

Your voice is laced with amusement as you try to break free from his grip. “…Negan,” you say, shaking your hand as if you're trying to shake off droplets of water “y’know I kinda need my hand back if I want to get dressed”.

Negan looks up at you, his expression almost comically petulant. The look in his eyes is one of sheer stubbornness and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“So if I don’t let go, you’re staying butt-ass naked?” He smirks, his gaze roaming over you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Let. Me. Go. Put. My. Clothes. On” you punctuate each word with a tug of your hand, trying to pry his fingers away from yours as you stand up by the edge of the bed. 

But despite your best efforts to free yourself, he easily holds on, his long limbs giving him the advantage.

“C’mon now, don’t go running off,” Negan teases, his grip unwavering but gentle as he attempts to pull you back on to the bed “aftercare is good for ya, and I gotta take care of my girl!”.

“Clothes are good for me too!” You try to argue back, not caring if you’re being just as silly as him.

Negan chuckles and makes no attempt to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, appreciating every curve and contour. “Yeah, well, not when I'm around”. 

With a sudden yank from Negan, you let out an “oof” sound as you collide with him, finding yourself laying on his chest yet again, pressed against his warm, naked body. He gives you a smug grin, squeezing your hand in his, just to let you know he’s won this silly little battle. 

“Hmph” you try to give him a glare but he quickly steals a kiss from your lips, completely wiping your scowl away. 

You look down at Negan, a soft smile playing on your lips as he lays beneath you, his hand holding yours against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart and the tickle of his chest hair on your wrist. Negan meets your gaze, his eyes drinking in your face with deep affection.

Damn him. As much as you have him wrapped around your finger, you’re most definitely wrapped around his too. “Fine, we can do it your way,” you relent, snuggling closer and resting your head on his chest “but I swear if one of your men come barging in here—“

“Then they’ll be going on the fence with the rest of the dead pricks, don’t you worry, baby” he reassures you, kissing the top of your head. 

As you close your eyes to relax, Negan lifts his head up, quickly scanning the bed for any blanket within reach. He spots the one hanging off the bottom of the bed and internally debates whether it's worth the effort to reach it. 

Negan lets his head fall back down on his pillow, abandoning the idea of blankets for now. Instead, his eyes travel over you appreciatively, taking in every dip and contour of your bare skin. He lets out a sigh, becoming certain that a blanket isn’t needed for now.

After all, why would he want a blanket to cover his amazing view?

[http-paprika]

There Was Something Here Once and it lingers in the air

small town au / call of duty x female reader / taglist open / wc 2030 / warnings light swearing / no use of y/n / ship not yet decided / no beta, my grammarly hates me

making a place for herself in aberdeen is not without its struggles, and not without more problems.

She tugged at her light cardigan, glancing over at the fan that sat in the corner of the diner and questioning why they even needed it with how cold it was outside. A blank document sits open on the screen of her laptop, a promise to try to write daily failing miserably as she spent her lunch break away from the small public library. The waitress walks up, refilling her cup of coffee again and glancing at the club sandwich that’d gone untouched before hurrying away to attend to the other patrons. Mostly loggers finishing a shift and grabbing a bite, all dressed in worn down workwear, a contrast to the suits and ties she used to see on her lunch breaks before. 

In the corner of the diner, the doorbell rings as a new customer walks in. She glances down at her keyboard again, willing her hands to move. Hadn’t she been dreaming, talking, and wanting to write this novel since she was a girl? How many years in the making had she been plotting it up through tedious university lectures just for the actual act to be daunting, intimidating her with the idea of failing. 

“Oh, hello again.” The steady voice of the tow truck driver lilts through her ears, she perks her head up to look at Johnny. He’s still in his blue coveralls, but there’s a new, noticeable oil stain on the front pocket. “Never seen you in here before, mind if I join ya?”

“No, yes. I’m sorry, I’m just all over the place today.” She sighs at the admittance as Johnny sits down across from her in the booth. He grins at the waitress when she brings by a menu, greeting him by name. In a small town like this, she was sure it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew her name, and she theirs. Though, names had never been a strong suite of hers. 

“Yeah? What are ya doing on there?” He asks, nodding to her laptop and her face burns in embarrassment. She did not like to talk about her writing, there was something so private about it that opening up was like if she were to be completely exposed in the diner. Mortifying. 

“Work.” 

“Work?” 

“Yeah.” She nods in seriousness, trying to convince him that’s what it is. But Johnny doesn’t look convinced, a grin on his face as he smiles. 

“That’s the same excuse I tell John when I’m sitting on my ass.” He winks at her and that burning from earlier reappears. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep asking. If it’s private, it’s private. But, I am curious, what does a librarian exactly do? It can’t all just be checking in and out books, can it?”

“Well, um,” She blinks, trying to collect herself and find the right answer for her lunch partner. “Stuff.” 

“Stuff?” 

She nods at Johnny, swallowing the realization of how pitiful she is in conversations. Always had been since she was a girl, it made her and her father alike. Much to the disappointment of her mother. 

“I’ll have to come visit soon then and see you do… stuff.” Johnny decides with a boldness in his voice. And when the waitress comes to take his order, she realizes that that’s the way Johnny is. Bold, proud, and bright like the sun. It’s a wonder he chose to stay in this town, should he have spread his wings out anywhere else, he would’ve been a star. 

“Okay.” She says, her voice sheepish and low. A glance at her watch causes panic to hitch as she realizes her lunch break is about to end and she needs to hurry back. “I’m sorry, I hate to be poor company but I have to go.” Fishing through her tote, she sets down enough money for her meal and coffee. She takes another swig of the caffeinated beverage before shoving her laptop back into the bag.

“Don’t worry about it, you do what you need to do.” He assures her with another warm smile, she nods back slowly before the panic hits again, the bell in the nearby church steeple ringing loudly to signal the changing of the hour. 

Out of the diner, across the little square that marks the downtown of Aberdeen, her loafers dig into the muddy grass. Her breath comes out into little huffs as she hurries back into the tiny public library. The door whines on its hinges from the force she applies to yanking it open. She winced in fear that it would fall right off, but it slams behind her causing her to jump out of her skin. Claire, her older coworker, sits at the circulation desk and quirks a brow up at her, the thin-rimmed glasses she always wore perched on her pointed face. There was a similarity to a crow that she couldn’t strike down, the way Claire was always watching from those beady, black eyes left her uneasy. 

“Sorry.” She mutters, bowing her head whilst walking behind the circulation desk to her tiny cubby. It wasn’t much smaller than the one she’d had before, one little plant dying in a plastic pot, the postcard Beau had sent her, and one of those cheese motivational cat posters that a coworker from her last job had given her when she left. There’d never been much to her name, she didn’t have much growing up and never felt the need to want more than she needed. So, besides the boxes of books waiting to be unpacked in her cottage, clutter wasn’t something she acquired. 

“Enjoy your lunch?” Claire asks, walking up to her desk with a box of books from a different library in the same system. It settles on her desk with a thud, and she can feel the heaviness in Claire’s gaze. Her punctuality when it came to time today was not the greatest, first with the car slowing her down and now this. 

“Yes, sorry I was running behind. Today’s just one of those days.” She sheepishly responds, hoping Claire could spare a sliver of sympathy towards her. Hasn't she ever run late before? 

“Mmm.” The elderly woman draws her mouth into a thin line, her hands resting on her bony hips. “Those are the interlibrary loans, they need to be sorted.” 

“Of course. I’ll get to those right away.” She nods, hoping the old crow would leave her alone. 

After giving her a dirty look for long enough, the door to the library opens again and Claire’s attention is quickly drawn away to greet the patron. Grumbling, she opened the box, sifting through the different books. A stack was quickly formed for one patron, and an appreciation formed for someone she didn’t even know. Whoever they were, she was certain that they were responsible for keeping the tiny library open. 

She glances up from the assortment of books, looking over at the circulation desk where Claire was helping a young mother check out various picture books. From the few days she’d worked, the conclusion had been drawn up that only the elderly or young mothers stepped foot inside the stuffy building. She’d yet to see anyone that fit the description of loggers and frowned, they were a key demographic in Aberdeen but couldn’t be bothered to read. Back in the city, she’d done so many outreach programs to try and engage with members of the community that weren’t represented in the library. Perhaps that needed to be done here. 

“Claire?” She asks gingerly, stepping up to the circulation desk once the patron has left. 

Claire glances up at her, carefully pulling off the wired glasses and cleaning them up. “Can I help you?” 

“Well, I was just curious about our patrons.” She wished Rosemary or Clint, the other two people who held positions at this branch, were there for her to speak with. But they were out doing god knows what, and the question continued to persist in her mind. A determination to fix a situation had always been one of the few things she stood out for. 

“What about our patrons?” Claire sets the glasses back on the bridge of her thin nose, evidently not interested in whatever tangent she was about to embark on. 

“Do the loggers not come in very often? I’ve only ever seen one or two.” She says, voicing her thoughts. “Should there not be something done to try and bring more of them in?” 

“That’s not for you to worry about.” The response is sharp, almost painful with how Claire says it. Like somehow she’d suggested a foolish idea, one that would’ve been better never said aloud. “That’s Clint’s job. Focus on your work.” 

Dejected, she nods and returns to her desk, trying hard not to look over at Claire again. The crow had only grown meaner with any interaction she tried to strike up. What she’d done to deserve the reaction was outside of her knowledge. After all, she was a competent enough librarian if nothing else. 

“Do you ever visit the library on your own?” She asks Johnny, sitting in the small office of the auto shop to finally speak with John about her car. A poor attempt to keep herself from worrying about the state of the vehicle, she needed a running one. 

A flush of embarrassment crosses Johnny’s face and thinking back to the conversation they’d briefly had in the diner, the answer is clear. “No, uh, not since I was younger. I’m usually not downtown, don’t even think about it and definitely don’t read as much as I should.” 

She nods, not passing judgment towards his words. It was understandable, so many people tended to neglect the library, not even considering the public service. 

“What would change that?” 

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she tilts her head to watch as he thinks. Johnny fumbles with his hands, trying to decide on an answer that isn’t seen as offensive. She’d asked the question to hundreds of different people in an attempt to connect with the community. No one ever seemed to be able to give her a satisfying answer for change. 

“Well, to put it simply, the car’s fucked.” John states, stepping into the office and running a hand over his mutton chop beard. A hard day of work is visible in his stance, he slouches against the desk as he takes the time to explain the issues the car had. In his words, he was supposed it had run as long as it had with all the underlying issues she’d failed to notice in her haste to pack up and move on. “Probably be cheaper to look at selling it for parts and buying a new, well, used one.” 

She slumps in her chair, trying hard not to bury her face in her hands. Cars were expensive, even used cars. Moving wasn’t cheap either, she’d already spent what little money her grandmother had left her to help with the house note. Where was she going to scrape together the money for any sort of running car? 

“Hey, it’ll be alright,” Johnny tries to console her, putting a hand on her back as she drops her head. “I’m sure something will come around, right John?” 

The older man doesn’t say anything, lost in thought as she mutters to herself over financial stress. Wasn’t moving to Aberdeen supposed to make her life easier? Small town living sounded so idyllic until reality sinks in, problems hit. At least in the city, she had access to buses, even if they weren’t the cleanest and meant waking up much earlier than she would’ve liked to get to work on time. Here, she was reliant on whatever goodwill the people of Aberdeen had. And she wasn’t expecting much more after the grace shown to her that morning. 

“Right, John?” Johnny asks again, looking at his boss with annoyance. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” John continues to run his hand over his beard, clearly absent from the conversation at hand. His behavior causes her to finally sit back up and blink, confused as to what exactly was happening. “There might be someone I know who could help your situation.”

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@emotionalcadaver

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

@kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

[lexithwrites]

love love love the sugar daddy au, do you have any nsfw thoughts to spare?

this is kinda gonna just be their first time together as im not 100% on their dynamic overall,,,,bare with me whilst i figure this couple out:

i feel like their first kiss is when they're drunk at regulus' penthouse, like they're sat on the sofa watching something or listening to music and talking and drinking some nice wine and regulus is looking away as remus stares at him and then just kinda leans a little closer at first

regulus flinches, he's never used to physical touch anymore, and then looks at remus and realises he genuinly wants to kiss him, thats it, and he leans in so their lips touch and its immediate fireworks

both of them feel electric and the soft kiss turns into deep kissing, slow and sensual, then passionate and desperate as they touch and grip and feel and grope and start to moan into each other's mouths but then regulus jumps back because he's scared, he hasn't done this in so long and he doesn't know what to feel and remus is so apologetic about it

then,,,,the sexual tension becomes too much

regulus caves, he goes to remus' flat when james is out with his brother and just,,,he kisses him so desperatley, moaning into his mouth about how horny he is and that he cant stop thinking about remus and he needs to fuck him and remus is all for it, he's been in the same boat

but regulus knows what he wants and he knows how this is going to go, so he lays out ground rules, safe words, dos and donts etc and remus is all for it, its the most safe and seen he's felt having sex EVER

regulus takes the lead, he feels every inch of remus before even taking his clothes off and its the best kind of torture

remus is a pretty submissive guy and he's under his spell straight away, just whimpering and pleading for regulus to let him touch him but he isnt ready, he needs his fill of remus first

regulus is,,,very good at giving head. he doesn't have a lot of experiance with partners but he watches porn, he has toys, he knows what he's doing, and remus' thighs are shaking by the end of it

regulus has never seen this intense look of pleasure ever on a partners face and he's actually flustered, he didnt expect remus to enjoy it so much but then he's being thrown on the bed and its time,,,he has to let remus see him naked

now, im a trans reg truther always, so he's very nervous. remus knows he's trans, they've had this talk, but he's never had sex with someone after transitioning and he's so scared remus will hate the scars and maybe hate the fact that he doesn't have a 'real' dick, remus loves his body so much its crazy

he's never been so attracted to someone and he wants to devour him,,,so he does

remus' sexuality is a bit of a mystery to me, but i feel like he's had experiance with,,,everything that can be down there, and he just gives regulus his fucking all, he's sloppy and messy but so precise and attentive, every time regulus tugs his hair he stays in that spot, every new moan and gasp is what he wants again and again, its amazing,,,he does himself proud

and then the actual fucking,,,its a bit awkward

remus has to get condoms and regulus is lying there watching him and then gets under the sheets so he's comfortable, and then remus is leaning over him just staring into his eyes and saying how beautiful and handsome he is and regulus just blushes and tells him to put it in already, and remus frowns

'i want this to last forever, regulus...dont you?' and regulus melts, plus it makes him wet af to hear that

and god,,,the sex is good guys, its so good

neither has ever felt this good before and its overwhelming in the best way

they're both panting and moaning and gripping at ecah other, begging for more and almost on the verge of tears because they've never felt so connected to another person, and its a mix of hot and fast and hard and slow and deep and loving and its just,,,UGH

they're a hot fucking couple idc

and afterwards when they're both cleaned and showered and the sheets are changed, regulus will NOT sleep in a dirty bed, they're lying together naked, just gently touching each other and holding each other, regulus confesses that he's been so scared to have sex again because he didn't think he'd ever enjoy it, he never did as a woman so why would he as a man? why would people care about his pleasure now?

and remus just kisses his forehead and promises to never let him feel that way again

regulus wakes remus up with a blowjob the next morning and rides him for ages, they basically spend the next three days fucking and going down on each other to make up for lost time until remus has to go back to work and even then he comes home in the afternoon to naked regulus in bed napping, and he's so fucking happy

[pawpupster]

Kit

Back at it again y'all. Um, this one is literally so self indulgent. That's beside the point though. I'm not trying to make it fit into any movie or existing timeline and once again I'm just making stuff up bc I can. Anyway...

Paternal Logan x child!gn!reader

Summary: Young Y/N finds their way to the mansion after long travels. Once there, Charles quickly sends Logan to bond with them because they were derived from his DNA.

warnings: nothing to worry about if you watch X-men anyway.

Kit

Y/N wandered down a long path, utilizing their nose to lead them in the right direction. They knew they looked suspicious. I mean really, how many kids go around covered in blood? Not many, and if they do it's not long until they’re picked up and questioned. 

Y/N couldn't risk that though, they knew what would happen if humans saw the claws coming from their knuckles. That's why they needed to follow this scent. Y/N had been trekking the woods after escaping their parents basement for days now. No real direction or plan. Just thankful they were away from that personal hell... and that their mutation let them eat raw meat. Too many squirrels were eaten in the past few days.

It was day 16 that the wind brought along the scent of fellow mutants. Y/N was all too knowing of exactly what a mutant smelled like. I mean, you spend enough time locked up with nothing but your own senses and you pick apart what you can, in this case, your own scent. 

All the better at the end of the day though. Nothing could be worse than what they came from. Y/N just hoped they wouldn’t judge them too greatly for killing their torturer. 

A mass amount of mutants like the one Y/N could smell would either be helpful or harmful. They were confident they could hold their own enough to escape again if things took a turn for the worse, but they were banking on this group being helpful. As Y/N neared, they could begin to hear the sounds of laughter, definitely a good sign. 

Finally around the bend, Y/N was surprised to be greeted with a voice in their head. 

“Hello, young one. My name is Charles Xavier, what brings you here?”

Y/N was freaked out to say the least. Their body kicked back into flight or fight mode and they swore they could feel their muscles tighten to their adamantium bones. They didn’t know how to answer the question. Shouldn't it be obvious they wanted to be with those like them? Plus, who was this Charles to think he could crawl into people's heads without permission?

“You raise a good point, I apologize. You seem to be in a pretty rough shape. Please, let us assist you,” Came the kind voice in their head once again.

Unwillingly, Y/N began to find comfort in that voice. As they stared at the looming building, Y/N could only think of how unkind their father was. 

They doubted that this ‘Charles’ would infuse a woman's growing fetus with the last remains of the weapon x’s experiment’s DNA. Much less to then keep that child locked in his basement after it killed his wife by birth, though, staring at the mansion Y/N could admit its basement probably wasn’t as bad as the one they were in. 

“Oh you poor thing,” Y/N was once again interrupted in their own head, "we are just the place for you. I promise. You’ll never have to suffer like that again.”

Y/N looked back up at the mansion when they heard the great doors open. Out came a gruff looking man. Y/N was set on edge again as the man began making his way towards them at a quick pace. 

Scrambling backwards, Y/N ended up tripping and attempted to use their hands to catch themselves. This only resulted in them stabbing themselves in the thighs upon their landing. The scent of their own fresh blood flooding their nose is what sent Y/N into a true frenzy. 

Tears began to pour and growls rumbled in their throat as they once again were shocked with the voice of Charles in their head, “Do not fret Y/N, this is Logan. I believe you’ll find him to be most helpful at the moment.”

Remembering the gruff man once again, Y/N jerked their head up to find that the man had stopped a few paces from their position on the ground and was staring intently at the claws embedded in their thighs. 

“Hey bub, Charles” the man - Logan, they remembered - began hesitantly, looking up to see if Y/N was listening, “sent me to bring you in. He’s under the assumption you're some sort of backasswards offspring of mine.” Logan cocked an eyebrow at Y/N as he released his own claws from his knuckles, only to pull them back in after Y/N’s eyes flashed with recognition. 

They were shocked to hear gentle rumbles coming from the man. It was soothing. Y/N found themself starting to hiccup instead of sob, and their own growls lessened into small mewls. 

“Oh kit,” Logan started advancing again. Once near enough, he kneeled down and sat back on his heels, “let’s get those out of your legs and then we'll work on cleaning you up, okay?”

As the man began reaching towards them, Y/N flinched away and wrenched their claws out of their thighs to hold defensively before them. 

“Don’t hurt me, please! I’m sorry for coming. I didn’t mean to kill them I promise! I just wanted it to stop, please don’t hurt me,” Y/N desperately cried, eyes looking to their quickly healing thighs, hoping with everything in them that this man wouldn’t impale them with his own metal claws. 

“Kit, I’m not goin’ to hurt ya, and I’m certainly not gonna be the one to tell you off for doing whatever ya could to get out of what looks to be a tough situation. Lemme get you inside, allright. Inta a nice warm bath and some better clothes than these rags. How’s that sound?” The man spoke very gently, still with that kind rumble in his chest. 

Y/N looked up at him again when he gently grabbed their wrists to lower their claws. Y/N watched as he began to gently rub the pads of his thumbs over the inside of their wrists. Y/N was confused at first, until they watched as their claws retreated back into their forearms when Logan hit a particular muscle. They tried their best to not let the pain of the movement show, but they were sure Logan heard their small hiss and the smell of distress spike.

Making eye contact again, Logan reached out to grab Y/N under their arms. Overwhelmed with all that's happened over the last few weeks and especially the last fifteen minutes, Y/N’s body decided it was the best course of action to shift into their wolverine form… to the shock of Logan, Charles (who was viewing from Logans head), and the students out on the lawn who had been watching the interaction from a distance.

Logan could hear the students begin to murmur about the kit having a true animal form, and he even heard one brave kid question if Logan could do the same (he couldn't), but his main focus right now was making sure Y/N was taken care of. 

Carefully cradling the small wolverine to his chest, Logan made sure to keep up his gentle purrs as he made his way into the mansion. He was amazed by how quick a pack-like bond was forming between him and this kit. 

Stood in the foyer, Logan contemplated heading straight to Hank, but ultimately decided a bath would be of better use, especially when he knew any injuries have already healed.

With that in mind, he made his way up to his room. Nodding to the kids he passed in the hall, Logan made sure to keep Y/N out of their view and to glare at anyone close enough to hear his purrs.

Entering his room, Logan gently closed his door and then made his way into his bathroom. He gently set the small wolverine on his counter and began to fill his sink with warm water, all the while pressing a soothing hand over Y/N’s back.

“Don’t worry, we can do a bath just like this if you’d prefer,” Logan told Y/N when he noticed their beady eyes looking up at him. Instantly the kit relaxed under his hands and laid still while watching Logan gather a towel and his 2-in-1 from the shower. 

Once the sink was filled with sufficiently warm water, Logan picked up the kit and let them soak, gently petting the fur on the top of their head before cupping some water and wetting their head, being sure to wipe any from their eyes. 

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, Logan made sure to scrub everywhere as efficiently as possible. It quickly became apparent that a second fill of water and scrub would be necessary. 

Midway through the sink filling for the second time, Logan heard Jean's voice in his head, “Is it alright if I come in? I promise I only have a spare change of clothes for the child and I’ll just set them on your bed, okay?”

Sending back an affirmative to her presence in his head, Logan made sure to keep a calming hold on the kit when they heard his door open with Jean’s scent rolling under the bathroom door and then close again as she left. 

“It’s all good, Y/N. Let’s get you finished here and into those clothes,” Logan said as he picked up the shampoo once again. 

After the water was running clean off the wolverines fur, Logan picked them up once again and wrapped them in a towel. 

“I’ll go grab you clothes and leave you to change,” Logan set Y/N on the ground once dry and went to grab the clothes Jean left. Going back into the bathroom with them, Logan made sure to warn, “these are just the school merch, so they smell a little starchy and dusty. Don’t worry, we’ll get you some new clothes soon enough.” With that, Logan left the room to give his kit some privacy. 

Y/N had no idea why this man was being so kind. Obviously he was like them, but they still didn’t expect this much care. Y/N can’t remember ever having hot water at their disposal, but Logan made it seem like they’d be getting that and so much more if they stayed here. Feeling calm enough to change back into their human form, Y/N quickly shed their old dirty clothes. Dressing into the sweats was easy enough, though they weren't sure how to keep them on, the pants kept slipping past their waist. 

Holding them up, Y/N stepped out of the bathroom and found Logan sitting on what they presumed to be his bed waiting for them. 

“Oh kit, c’mere,” Logan said as he realized they probably hadn’t had the comfort of sweatpants before. 

Slowly walking toward the man, Y/N was shocked when he gently tugged the string around their waist. At first Y/N thought he was going to tie them up somehow, but quickly realized he was just making a normal bow and their pants now fit. Y/N stared with wide eyes at Logan who only smiled in return. 

“C’mon, you can do with a nap, you look like yer about to drop,” Logan said as he stood from the bed. He pulled back the covers and began to make that rumbling noise Y/N liked so much again. 

Watching the man to make sure he wasn’t going to change his mind, Y/N crawled up into the bed and let themself be tucked in. It was then that they realized they had their own nice rumbly noise coming from their chest too. 

Y/N watched with hazy eyes as Logan made his way to a chair in the corner of the room. The final thing they saw before succumbing to sleep was him opening to marked page in a book. 

Logan couldn’t hold back his smile no matter how hard he tried to. The kit was too adorable when swamped in the logo-ed hoodie and sweatpants and absolutely swimming in his massive bed. Hopefully after a good sleep Y/N would be okay to see Hank and the Professor, but for right now, Logan was gonna let them sleep as long as they needed to. 

[beth20light]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.