#in which tim is sad and clearly needs a hug

[tiny-chubby-bird]

jesus christ dick just give your little brother a hug

#i dont really understand why nobody gives tim a hug in the game? #does tim canonically like have touch aversion or something? #because there's at least two scenes in the game that i can say for certain exist #in which tim is sad and clearly needs a hug #and dick is like nearby and sorta notices #and yet he doesnt reach out??? #richard pls sweetie just give your brother a hug #unless he actually doesnt want to be hugged but idk?? #gotham knights #gotham knights game #dick grayson #tim drake

[rainybyday]

Wayne Spirit Add-Ons

Add ons that don’t connected to each other but they probably could of the Wayne Spirit and/or Comic Cross Dimension au idea (pick your favorite) by me

+Danny knows exactly where Damian is because all he needs to do is follow the energy radiating off a Lazarus pit and BOOM, there’s a baby Damian

+Danny won’t kill Joker because sometimes there are worse things then death

+Danny knows where Cass is every single time and she can’t sneak up to him

+Once he knows Duke can see him he started to play hide and sneak to see how many times he can avoid Duke finding him

+Stephanie won’t die, not even for a minute because there is no way Danny was letting any one of his Bats die in Gotham

+Danny will cling on to any Bat who is sad on their backs and won’t go away until they get the care they need or feel better (since they all know that cold spot is their Ghost hugging them and watching them when they are at their worse and is comforting them)

+Danny is always there when anyone gets sick by their bed side

+Kate just accepted the fact Danny existed, no more need to be said when your a vigilante who kicks drama theater kids ever night in a bat suit, a ghost isn’t that far out their

+Danny did meet the spirit of Gotham, had a fight, Gotham sulking that they lost, Danny swearing that he will take care of the Wayne’s and made a pact for them to co-parent the family 

+Alfred is god and Danny respects him and admires him a lot, so when Alfred always verbally gives him gratitude when he cares for the family Danny will get flustered so bad (even if Alfred can’t see him (yet))

+Danny loves all the Bats but Bruce is his favorite, his boy, his baby that he found, his child who he comfort, his teenage he protected, his silly adult he sighed about, his hero who he became so ultimately proud of 

+The same time that Danny was protecting the Wayne’s he was also going to the Drake’s residence to play with a cute cubby baby Tim

+Danny died (again) of laughter when he saw the scene of Jason stealing the tires off the Batmobile

+Danny is always there when the kids are training to become a Robin because training injuries traumatized him when Dick almost fell down a tightrope once

+He didn’t stop the Joker from shooting Barbara in time but he did get to him before he could touch any of the Gordon’s

+Danny is a hugger and a clinger, if you are touched by the Danny, every Bat has the unspoken rule of stopping whatever your doing to rest (they all learned from Bruce who made the mistake of going out as Batman when Danny was clinging on him)

+Danny thinks Damian is hilarious and adorable when he first meet him after spending a good amount of his childhood slightly disliking that Robin

+No villains will, nor will ever can kidnap a Bird to train them without their consent because Danny will be there to show exactly what happened when you touch those that he claims as him (he knows some training sessions are unavoidable but that doesn’t stop him from freezing anyone of those villain mentors from hurting or making any of his Bird’s from doubting themselves of any kind)

+Everyone in the manor always obey Danny, even Alfred (which is very few times since Danny and Alfred always agree with one another to protect the idiots they fondly call their family)

+Loves when Damian is finally at the manor because of all the pets 

+Danny finds listening to Jason reading soothing as it reminds him of Jazz

+Danny always gets Tim to get some rest, always

+Takes care of Steph when she is Robin because clearly someone wasn’t going to be kind to her in anytime soon

+Danny always claps when Dick does his small flairs during fights or during patrol

#danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dp x dc #batfam #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #Wayne spirit au #Or comic cross dimensions au #Or family spirit au #i Like Wayne spirit better

[dairy-farmer]

TW: suicide attempt

Okay so Tim is going thru some major whump, canon style, and eventually tries to kill himself. Because he feels hated by his family, he’s incredibly stressed, most of the people who liked him died, yada yada yada

He comes super close to dying before one of the bats find him. I’m thinking Bruce, so he can hold him all desperate like he did with dying Jason.

But he manages to pull through with heavy medical attention in the cave. He’s bed-bound, and incredibly fragile when he wakes up.

The weird part though, is how everyone *reacts*. His family, who ignored him on the best of days and actively hated him on the worst, were so spooked by his near-death that even Damian is protective and somewhat affectionate.

Maybe it’s them realizing just how much Tim does for them when he was in a coma. Maybe it’s how small and sad he looks, hooked up to IV’s and covered in bandages.

Maybe it’s the delirious way he half woke-up before, begging for them not to save him, to just let him die, that he couldn’t do it anymore.

Either way, they’re now all so loving and affectionate and it’s creeping Tim out. Even weirder, now of them will talk about bat related stuff with him, just assuring him that it’s being taken care of. Bruce and Jason seem to have bonded, forming a sort of vigil around tim, never leaving him alone.

They have good intentions, but constantly being surrounded by two of his major sources of stress of course just further terrifies Tim.

They’re so....touchy. And they speak to him in this soft voice, like he’s some sort of baby. Hell, Bruce keeps calling him *sweetheart*.

Tim’s suicide attempt really changed the way they all view him, from this sort of hyper-competent imposter without emotions to a fragile, terrified boy hiding his fear behind a sense of duty and loyalty. He’s so sweet, has been so sweet the whole time, they realize, they just didn’t see it.

Bruce keeps apologizing to Tim, which had never done before. Promising that “all of that” will never happen again, that they all love Tim, that he doesn’t need to worry, they’ll take care of him.

When Tim finally broaches the topic of maybe starting to assist on missions again, even if it’s just from the batcomputer, it’s the first time they become *angry* with him since....the incident.

Bruce tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s not doing missions or Wayne Enterprises work again.

Tim, of course, crumbles. After all, in his eyes, he’s essentially been fired completely. He’s the ultimate failure. Maybe he even makes another attempt.

The smothering, after that, goes up to 11. Dick is like an overly affectionate koala, often accompanied by Damian, who refuses to let Tim complete simple tasks because he ‘clearly needs someone to protect and care for him’. He doesn’t see the outside of the manor grounds, and it’s a rare, lucky day when dick and Damian take his wheelchair around the gardens on the grounds.

Too much could happen to him out there, Dick worries.

None of them will answer his questions about what they told the press. Tim feels a little sick, all the time.

The family hardly ever really fights, anymore. He sees everyone around the manor, even Jason. It’s a sort of awful proof, to him, that with Tim no longer being a bat, they’re all better off.

Damian gets a massive growth spurt over the summer, and seems to enjoy showing Tim how much they had to alter his robin costume—

“I’m taller than you now, brother!” He’ll chatter excitedly. He never calls him Drake, anymore.

And it’s true— Damians shoulders are now broad enough that they block out anything else when he leans in to hug him, or brush his hair, or spoon-feed him whatever he decided Tim needs to eat.

It comes to the point where Tim isn’t even surprised, when Damian leans forward to kiss him for the first time, with dick smiling, rubbing his shoulders and watching fondly. He just gets warm, sinking feeling in his gut.

I LOVEE THISSS~!!!!!! the one thing i really love about fics like these is the psychological aspects. you have the character who attempted and their delicate state of mind and then you have the very, exposed incredibly vulnerable friends and family and there are so many little details here that hint at much larger issues playing in the background that both we and tim don't know about.

_them not telling tim what they told the media. why not? if it would help him calm down, if it would help him feel more reassured. why don't they tell him what they told the media? maybe because what they told them would make the family look bad. they're keeping tim inside, not even letting him into the backyard and when they do it's very rare. tim's 'family' is concerned about him but what about his friends? why have his friends not once passed by to see him and that makes tim feel sadder and more reliant on the family. with all of this together it makes me think that they told everyone that tim was dead. that way they keep tim out of the hands of others and to themselves.

_'Tim feels a little sick, all the time.' in a dark universe where they're intent on keep tim by their sides, too weak to fight back, and submissive the one thing that makes sense to me is that they're purposefully crippling tim. they see how frightened he is, and how he keeps asking questions and hinting that he wants to go back to being a vigilante and that's a fat NO in all their books. so how do you keep a little bird that wants to keep flying down? clip their wings. this thought is reinforced by what tim says about older damian and how he would feed tim "whatever he decided Tim needs to eat". them slipping tim drugs in his food and drinks to keep him sick. even if he physically gets better they think tim looks better helpless, small, and weak.

_there's an implication that tim nearly died via a fall given his use of a wheelchair and how physically fragile and bedbound he was. (also how tim nearly falling to his death would definitely trigger something in dick and ergo damian since the two of them share a deep familial and emotional bond). tim's body is in for a long recovery if he just barely survives a fall. his 'brokeness' and the increased likelihood that he may not be independent again (which may be guaranteed if they're purposefully keeping him sick) sets up an excellent scenario where damian can develop romantic feelings for tim because tim. is. now. no. longer. a. threat. damian's inability to accept or bond with tim is rooted in his deep fear that tim is valued over him for skill, experience, and talent. but damian is now being told by his father and dick that tim needs them now. that he'd like an injured bird with a broken wing that will never be able to fly again. damian developing feelings because tim is now weaker and smaller than him makes so much sense to me in this scneario!!! it's why he's gentle and touchy with tim in a way he isn't with dick because while he may love dick there's a part of him that can't trust him.

_tim's perception of his family as well as all the horrible things he's experienced in his life likely worsened to a pretty severe depression. although people acknowledge that depression is a mental illness i think people very rarely register the consequences of having a mental illness like depression. it can get just as severe as other "scary" mental illnesses like BPD or schizophrenia which in media are often used as tools to show how 'off their rocker' and 'unstable' a character is. the thing about depression, like many mental illnesses, is that it directly effects how you act because of the way the disease changes how you think. depression makes you behave in a way you wouldn't if you were getting proper treatment. a depressed untreated person who's really struggling may think that suicide is their solution to end the pain, whereas if they were being treated they may also be struggling just as bad but they wouldn't be viewing suicide as a 'logical' solution. it skews how people think pretty severely, what may be logical to them may be utterly unthinkable to others which is why it's something that would really fuck with tim in this situation. he believes his family doesn't care- that's what HE BELIEVES while processing an experience or interactions with a brain that is in many ways lying to him. maybe his family really did truly love him but he wasn't able to see it because he wasn't well. this would explain the severe escalation in their behavior, they were always this obsessive and possessive but when tim almost died on their watch by his own hand it really blossomed into this. they can't trust that tim won't take himself out of their lives. just like how a rogue or a stray bully is a threat to someone's life- tim is a threat to his own life. so them keeping him weak and dependent on them is not only to keep him safe and alive, it's to make sure he can't try again.

-i really LOVE the idea that tim isn't mentally well and neither is anyone in the family if this is how they react. they think that locking tim up, essentially keeping him chained is a very reasonable thing to do (lke it won't backfire severaly on tim's psyche). it's like the blind leading the blind. no one here is making the best choices, and they're all traumatizing each other.

then there's the situation with damian, who views tim is safe, as something that is no longer a threat. and damian does feel an attraction to tim grow as he gets older because it's hard not get attracted to tim he's SO pretty. he's all the things boys his age talk about wanting in a girlfriend. and timothy is so helpless, so small, and quiet and sweet.

he gets this softened edge to him when someone offers him an extra cookie or a surprise sweet. timothy is a delicate thing, something to be monitored and watched like an orchid whose soil and health must be carefully handled lest they wilt and die.

timothy's face and hands are so delicate and light. coupled with his thin wrists and little fingers. damian spends weeks watching the brief flash of pink from timothy's hot mouth as he parts to speak or eat. sometimes when damian wants to spend time with him, he'll lock the breaks on timothy's wheelchair which are located where he can't reach so he can't wheel away. not that timothy could for long if he wanted to. he runs out of breath quickly and his hands tremble with exhaustion.

timothy's fine feet are tucked beneath a blanket so his legs don't get cold. it's not that timothy can't walk. but the fall was just one too many breaks in his bones. timothy can't walk unassisted for long. damian knows he tried back in the beginning. they found him crawling half way down the drive way, cuts and bruises all along his torso and arms.

father was beside himself with worry, furious even. not with timothy, but with them for letting him out of their sights.

since that day damian took to remotely monitoring his timothy's whereabouts if he couldn't be present all day.

timothy used to be so sour and upset, crying or screaming or throwing things at them in the beginning. damian is happy to know how much calmer he's become. his recommendation for the herbal cocktail used in his tea definitly helped mellow timothy out, enough so that he no longer got angry enough to throw things at father or anyone.

now timothy usually spent his days working on small puzzles and boardgames. he'd taken up a few crafts like needlework and knitting.

damian knows he gets into his moods sometimes. some days he'll let damian lick and kiss into his mouth, the next he'll be trembling and crying into grayson's arms who soothes and strokes his hair, telling him it was okay and damian didn't mean to scare or frighten him.

(damian may up the dosages on the days timothy is acting more emotionally erratic than usual, father was the one who gave him the idea. and father trusted him to do it safely now. before timothy's injury father rarely allowed damian to operate unsupervised, but now he was trusted to sedate timothy when he grew too upset.)

damian likes timothy now. much better than he did years ago.

he will never say so, not where grayson, todd, or his father could hear- but sometimes he thinks that timothy trying to take his own life was the best thing he could've done for the family.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

[nightglider124]

Maybe it is me but I don’t get the vibe that dickkory’s small convo was flippant on either side (i mean a little on dicks at first cos he be like ViSiOnS dOnT eXiSt) but at the end, Kory was like ‘like you said, to hell with visions’ but she seemed so sad about it like she thinks he won’t accept their shared vision bc he doesn’t want it with her. (We all know he does like duh)

I saw some people annoyed that that is all the conversation was but i think it speaks louder than just what was said. I mentioned it on another post but Brentons acting was real good in that scene bc he seems to really wrestle with what to say and although he just says ‘idk’ i think he feels torn. And they’ve also got much bigger issues than that particular vision at this point. Like we can circle back ya know?

Poor Kory though like the convo with Rachel in the beginning when Rae is like did he not tell you and shes just like no he didnt…

Ugh i want the angst. I am also v curious as to when Kory gets hurt since they’ve left off with Jinx dead (for now).

Other thoughts:

I get now why Lisa posted that stupid ass ig story 😂 bc jinx still be into Dick a little it would seem which back off bitch he has a whole child with Kory on the way so leave 😂 nah but I don’t think that will be explored more - i reckon that is more so a wistful thing on Jinx’s part but nothing will come form or at least i hope nothing does cos lets face it she isnt dead dead 🤷🏻‍♀️

Very curious how Jason will be appearing this season. It was said he is in Joshua and Teagans livestream a couple weeks ago. Not that i want to see him but im curious how he slots in in this particular season 🤔

MY BABY GAR 😭 he is going through it and when i tell you i was cryING when he grabbed Kory in a hug like i needed a GarKory hug more than I realized. 😭 I am extremely interested in Gar’s whole story this season. I LOVE that he is finally getting more. He seems to forgotten in other seasons and that is a crime. I worry about baby boy but am super happy that its getting explored more.

On the note of Gar, I’m assuming Sebastian or Brother Blood now I suppose was the one to send them to another existence or dimension but Gar went to the red so I am guessing Gar is separated from the team to begin with in part two of the season. I am v excited for part two of the season for multiple reasons.

Connor irked the shit out of me. I get it; tis his Lex side and I completely understand why but the attitude is so grating. Joshua plays it so fucking well but my God every time he spoke I was like stfu 😂😂

Rachel got her powers back and became White Raven!! I was v surprised to see the white dress and cloak but I was like OOOOOH. Her powers are gonna be fierce af in the second half of the season. And talking of powers, Kory’s having gone up to 80% has me NERVOUS. I bet that is how she gets hurt. I fucking bet she supernovas and fucks herself up. Like why else would they mention it?? 👀 i am scared for my fave in second part. 😭

Tim and Bernard are cute. Like it was sweet when they had that litte scene. And omg when Tim was like we kissed to the team, Kory had like a lil smirk on as did some of the others and Dicks like oh big night for everyone then - loved it.

Jinx may annoy me cos of the whole Dick history and clearly being into him still but she really does have me giggling. When she got stabbed i was like aw gurl ya took too long with taunting her frozen self 🙄 but I appreciated in the RV when she was like ‘i could take her out, fucking nut her’ feels so fucking British and I greatly appreciated it. I literally hear people talk like that all the time so I enjoyed that part 👀😂

I can’t think of much else now but I liked the episode. Wasn’t the absolute best imo but it will tide me over til second part of the season which I hope is sooner rather than later- anyone know when it’s meant to be returning??

#my thoughts #dickkory #dc titans #dc titans spoilers #titans s4 spoilers #titans spoilers

[jvstheworld]

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E1 (part 3)

Pilot

Ted doesn't always get the hang of the new vocab, but he tries.

I love Roy Kent. He is one of my favourite characters and his use of swear words is perfection.

Did Nate give Ted and Beard Irn Bru?

I love the Tedisms. Makes him adorable.

Jamie is a prick and Sam is an absolute sweetie.

Axe body spray in the US is the same as Lynx in the UK.

Keeley is a wonderful character who is unapologetically herself and confident in her sexuality. I adore her.

Personalising the office, first off, pushing the desks together which might take up more space but it means you don't have to constantly turn around to talk. And also shows the Ted and Beard like working closely together. Next are inspirational sports posters and sport stars of the past. I can not name any of them.

Poor Ted, he needs to sleep, and that nap was the first time he has done since leaving Kansas.

Roy will be absolutely furious when won over, but he'll thank them for it later.

The 'Believe' poster. I have it as the background on my smart watch and as the background on my laptop but with Ted pointing to it while looking at Jamie.

I love Ted and Keeley's friendship. He doesn't get rid of the picture Jamie has in his locker, just makes it a bit more modest for the setting it is in. This is something Roy does later with one of the pictures Phoebe drew.

'I never know how to react when a grown man does...' is said by Keeley when Ted beat boxing, Roy when Ted does the Carlton, and by Chris Powell when Ted does his victory dance.

Earlier, Rebecca called Higgins the 'current' Head of Communications, and now we know why - he is being promoted to Director of Football Operations.

Higgins was complicit during Rupert's affairs. Does anyone else think that Higgins only went along with it out of fear of losing his job? Rupert is a very rich man who could make his life hell and make it hard for him to get another job elsewhere, so maybe Higgins did it to protect his job and continue being able to provide for his family.

The name on the gift basket in Ted's new flat is 'Coach Tim Lasso' because Rebecca doesn't actually care about him enough to get it right, but it's close enough that it could be seen as a clerical error.

Ted tries to work out the time difference between the UK and Kansas. It's a 6 hour time difference.

Ted in the shower. Ted is in the shower. The thoughts that went through my head when I saw this during my re-watch. Well, let's just say they weren't clean. And then the man is dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Honey... God damn, you're hot.

Why did Ted move to another country to coach a sport he doesn't know about? Because his marriage is struggling and his wife needs space. A lot of it apparently. He still clearly loves her, but the fact she can't say it anymore clearly hurts him more than he can admit. And it's just a precursor to what happens later on.

I have an overwhelming need to hug him whenever he is sad. Ted needs all the hugs. And to go to sleep, but the conversation with his wife is probably the reason why he can't.

#ted lasso #coach beard #roy kent #rebecca welton #leslie higgins #keeley jones #tv show thoughts #ted lasso rewatch

[brokenhardies]

Deja Vu - A Life on Mars Drabble

Set during the Power of the Doctor regeneration scene, spoilers for that episode and the regeneration scene, as well as several other eras of Doctor Who

TW: Paternal death (referenced), grief.

Word Count: 1187

Taglist

@darth-caillic​ @sterling-writes​ @ryutabas​ @reirvival​ @arrthurpendragon​ @foxesandmagic​​ (want to be added or removed? send an ask or a dm!)

Jane brushed her black hair back, possibly praying with a touch she could change it back to blonde. Her mother was going to change, she knew this. And there was definitely nothing she could do about it. Regeneration was messy, when her dad became her mum the TARDIS got destroyed, with Jane sent on a collision course far away from her mother. She didn’t get to meet Yaz, or Graham, or Ryan, or find out about the whole ‘Tim Shaw’ thing until they found themselves on that Impossible Planet. Other times it ended with the TARDIS spinning out of control, or - in one very embarrassing case she never let him forget - her dad forgetting how to fly the ship, meaning she had to take control of the controls. And considering at the time she was in the form of - what amounted to - a 10-year-old boy, that was already a struggle as is. 

However, this time… This time felt painful. And she wasn’t sure why. She’d been around for a while – remembering after the Raven how she was brought back to life as herself, how she travelled with her dad and Bill and Nardole, before moving on to her mother and the ‘fam’ as she had called them. It was almost like she was certain that… She was next. Most of her previous incarnations had never lasted as long, and she’d lost count. Was this how her mother felt? Jane sighed, looking up from the seat of the TARDIS as she saw her mother turn to the door. She frowned. She wasn’t sure where they landed, if it was on Earth or in outer space.

“Y-You’re leaving me?” She whispered, causing her mother to face her. Her smile was weak, it was clear she was holding all the energy back. 

“Nah, nah, ‘m never gonna leave you, Janey.” She grinned, running to Jane and bending down, scooping her up in a massive hug. Jane had to physically hold back tears. 

Even after discovering the truth of the Timeless Child, she and this incarnation of her mother were as thick as thieves. It was almost like they were sisters instead of mother and daughter. Or parent and child, whatever the case would be. She was closer to this version of her mother than she ever was to any other version of her. Well, except for one, the first one she met all those years ago, when Sarah Jane and her investigated that school at the same time as he did. She pulled back, looking up at the Doctor, her wild, unhinged smile almost infectious.

“I-It isn’t a goodbye, right?” Jane stuttered, “It’s a… ‘See you later’? Right?”

To which the Doctor nodded. “Yeah…” She smiled, “It’s a see you later. Anyway, gotta go. Need to get the new Doctor ready.” 

And she left, leaving Jane in the TARDIS alone. She sat down, holding her legs towards her chest. It never got any easier, she knew that. From watching him, in pain, pull himself together as he screamed from 10 to 11… To the sudden shock of 11 to 12, in one swift, almost sneeze-like movement… To 13, appearing in a blaze of glory that took out the TARDIS and nearly took Jane out. But, this time, the Doctor clearly wanted to be alone. Jane frowned, slowly standing up as she heard the familiar buzzing of regeneration energy, muffled behind the door. 

“I wanna see what happens next!” The Doctor exclaimed, almost sad in a way. Her voice was muffled by the door of the TARDIS, as Jane leant against where the phone itself would’ve been kept. Then, she heard the Doctor sigh, before hearing her speak once more.

“Alright,” She said, “Doctor Whoever-I’m-About-To-Be. Tag; you’re it.” 

And that’s when the explosion of light happened. Jane felt the heat from where she was standing, it almost scalded the door she was behind. Considering the power of regeneration energy could destroy TARDIS’s and wipe out Nazi guards – thanks River – it made the most sense. It was exothermic in reaction, with heat and energy being pushed through a body as a form changed. Maybe curiosity had gotten the better of her, because Jane didn’t want to be stuck behind a door for the last bit, she wanted to see who the Doctor - her father, her mother, her parent, whoever they may be once this is over - became. 

But when she pulled the door open, she was hit with a surprise. The Doctor’s clothes didn’t change before? She noticed the golden regeneration energy absorb her mother’s outfit, the flouncy pants, suspenders, navy crop top and pale blue jacket being absorbed into a suit, a pair of dusty trainers on their feet and a navy trenchcoat flapping in the wind caused by the regeneration. They had probably become a ‘he’ again, Jane thought, seeing the much more masculine hands that appeared out of the sleeves of the trenchcoat twitch slightly… 

But when the energy stopped, Jane had to hold her breath. The figure standing before her, in the suit, was tall and quite thin. Almost matchstick in proportions. Light olive skin trailed up his body, with light stubble dusting his cheeks. There was an almost cockatoo esq quaff of brown hair that sprouted out the top of his head. And that should’ve been the point Jane realized. Something was wrong here. Instead, it took her a few seconds for her father to open his mouth before it clicked. He paused, sucking in his lips and rubbing his tongue around his mouth, before he suddenly spoke.

“I know those teeth.”

And Jane knew that voice. There was a second that he viewed his features, a hand covering his mouth and rubbing against the stubble as he looked at the hand in shock and awe. He then raised the other one, facing the palms down to look at the backs, eyes wide.

“What?” 

Then he noticed his outfit had changed, quickly doing a scan of the material as Jane slowly stumbled out of the TARDIS and onto the cliffside alongside him. Her eyes were also wide as she quickly put two and two together. Had that ever happened before? She wouldn’t know, even though she’d regenerated 3 times before, she wasn’t as knowledgeable about it as he was.

“What?!” He repeated, voice hushed but still recognisable. Finally, he ran his hands across his face, feeling the details that had become foreign to him after centuries past. 

Jane remembered. The last time the Earth saw this Doctor was Christmas 2010, when he saved London - and the world - from the resurrected Master and his ‘Master race’. He’d only had a few years as the Doctor, compared to other Doctors who walked the Earth or got stuck in time loops or fast-aging planets or whatever. He’d lost so much in a short span of time, Rose, Donna, Martha, Wilfred, Jenny… He turned to face her, as if trying to see if she was seeing or hearing the same that he was, to which they both responded with the exact same thing.

“What?!” 

How the hell did someone regenerate backwards? 

#ocappreciation #ocapp #ochub #queerocs #doctor who oc #OC: Jane #story: life on mars #janes face during this whole thing is legit 0-0 #by the time she walks out and there's ten standing there and his clothes changed shes just like 'da faq????' #poor girl is soooo lost lmao #im literally keeping this to myself bc my dad hasnt watched the episode yet and i accidentally spoiled mum bc #i was in shock!

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

i said hold my hand not break it

by isychia It’s clear that this is going to be an argument, not a lecture. An argument that Bruce is going to win, and will likely end in Dick fleeing to Bludhaven, and silent treatment that will last for a month. “I fucked up.” “You were sloppy”, Bruce growls, and it’s clear he’s holding back, arms tight against his sides. “You could have gotten Tim killed.” That isn’t exactly true; as it stands, Tim barely has a scratch on him, and Dick had actually gone out of his way to make sure Tim didn’t face the brunt of the blast. There were unforeseen circumstances that even Batman hadn’t accounted for. But Bruce has clearly considered a hundred different, gory scenarios during the journey home, all of which assuming Dick possesses absolutely no common sense, and all of which ended badly. It’s infuriating. * Dick Grayson’s Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Two Months, which snowballs into something far worse, whilst Bruce (as always) is clueless until it is Far Too Late. Words: 1703, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, Depression, Eating Disorders, Bulimia, Tim Drake Tries to be a Good Sibling, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs Therapy, Dick Grayson is Not Okay, this is a sad one folks, strap in! via https://ift.tt/JnWG8jm

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

[westwingwolf]

Some thoughts on why I feel Tim and Lucy discussing the hug in the season 4 premiere is unnecessary.

There are 2 basic options for how a discussion would play out.

Option 1: They talk about it, decide it was momentary weirdness caused by grief, choose to ignore any other meaning, and move on. (This could very well be a conversation they had during the time jump which explains why they appear fine now.) However, if they were to have this conversation now, that sets them back further into denial. Which means we have to wait even longer for something to happen. And we might start questioning if the writers ever intended for the hug to mean anything. (Which seems odd. Why write it if it means nothing?) Then there is panic and stress, and I'd rather just avoid the whole ordeal.

Option 2: They discuss it and realize it does mean something. And they move forward with a relationship, but I still expect this to take a while if the writers' intention is to use this as a jumping off point to start discussing feelings. They aren't ready to start writing a Chenford dating era. I don't think they'll be ready before the season finale. Maybe that will be the start of it. At any rate, my issue with this option is it forever connects Tim & Lucy's moment of revelation to something sad, and I think Chenford deserves something better than that. Sad and meaningful moments certainly make up a lot of their relationship, but they've been through so much together I'd like to see their moment of getting together be something that just revolves around them. And I'd prefer it to have a happy angle if that is possible. That's why I'm glad nothing went further than a hug and a look in the premiere. (Don't get me wrong, I would have taken it if more had happened; but I think to start out the relationship healthy, it was better that it didn't. Lucy was definitely not in the right place for it.)

So that's why I prefer they don't talk about the hug and the implied moment of attraction, but instead build up to a different moment of attraction. One that can't be blamed on a moment of grief. One that is seemingly out of the blue. Obviously, the hug did mean something. A light bulb moment, but it's a moment on a dimmer switch. One that can be denied if they wish. But a second moment with no other excuse cannot be so easily denied. And from that moment, other moments of attraction will continue until they finally confront it or their feelings explode in a passionate moment.

The key here is that whatever option the writers choose, they will all take time. So we have to be patient. Because it most likely won't happen until the season finale, and even then I'm skeptical that it will happen then. It will happen eventually; I just have to hope it happens before the show is cancelled. In the meantime, I am loving that we get to see Chenford as more equals now. Which was necessary for them to ever get to a romantic place. They are far enough removed now from that place of Tim being Lucy's teacher and getting farther. They are more honestly friends now. Even Tim would probably admit that now. They are having fun and flirty moments, and Lucy is more willing to tease Tim and push back more regularly than she did as his rookie. She has no fear in telling him that she's not going to let her aide position be like he imagined with her getting his coffee and the like. And he's not even mad about it. He finds humor in it. He is loving it as much as she is. They have serious moments discussing plans for a future and kids in a way that hints and foreshadows this will be something in their shared future. And Tim is being more open to Lucy when she asks personal questions. Clearly showing that they are indeed friends. And all the while they generally act like they've already been married for years.

I can't wait to see more of what the writers have planned. (It's only been five episodes so far, and already we've been given so much. I feel like I need to save some of these scenes in case there is an episode where they don't interact as much.) Because this is all about building the Chenford relationship to a place where they will realize they mean more to each other than friends and coworkers. To realize there is an attraction. And they will discuss all of that. Eventually. While I wait for them to realize their feelings, I'm going to laugh and cry and devour this slow burn like it is the oxygen I need to breathe. And at times it is going to be painful and frustrating, and I'm going to yell at the TV for these two idiots to get it over with and kiss each other already. Because that is what it truly means to ship a slow burn ship, and I love every second of it as much as it drives me crazy.

Thoughts? Opinions? Concerns? Arguments?

#Chenford #Tim Bradford #Lucy Chen #Lucy x Tim #The Rookie #The Rookie theory #the rookie spoilers

[cherry-glade]

sleepy sunsets and candid confessions

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: the two of you are finally getting to spend some time together after being apart for so long, and tim decides to bring something up to you that he’s been keeping to himself for some time.

warnings: mostly fluff with just the slightest bit of angst bc tim is a sad boy for a little while :/

w/c: 1889 words

You’re on the verge of falling asleep with your back pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark of a tree, sunlight warm on your face and shining bright behind your eyelids when you hear Tim, remnants of precious sleep evidently still clinging on for dear life to his voice, soft and raspy, slurring over the syllables of your name.

“Hey.” You look down to see Tim watching you with a tired little smile on his face, head resting in your lap. You’re glad to see his smile—Tim has yet to say anything about it, but you know that he’s been a little upset recently.

“I thought you were asleep, Timmy.”

“I was,” he confirms, closing his eyes again. “But I woke up again so that I could look at you.” He pauses to yawn, jaw cracking as his eyes squeeze tight before relaxing again. “Missed your face while I was sleeping.”

Your cheeks go warm at that and you gently flick his ear. Tim’s eyes flutter open and find yours as his smile widens, playful with a tiny hint of smugness spilling out with the flash of his teeth. It’s a good look on him, especially with that cheeky glint in his eyes, but then again, so is pretty much everything.

“Sap,” you mutter, and he shakes his head at you, the movement looking a little odd being viewed upside down.

“You love it,” he retorts through a second yawn and closes his eyes again, settling down like he’s just won an argument against you, except he actually has and you can’t say that he’s wrong, not really.

“We’re together almost all the time, Tim,” you murmur, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his eyes. “Aren’t you at least a little tired of seeing my face all the time?”

“Never tired of seeing you, Y/N,” he confesses casually. “You’re my favourite person and the best part of my day.”

“Cool it with the compliments, Romeo,” you chuckle, twisting his hair and curling it around your fingers.

“It’s not just a compliment, it’s the truth,” Tim huffs, then pauses. “Well, I guess it is a compliment, but I’m not just trying to fill your head up with hot air. You make me happy. Happy, happy, happy...” he repeats, humming to himself.

You blink down at him, amused. “I think you need some more sleep,” you say, poking his forehead lightly, but he still frowns.

“No, I wanna stay up with you,” Tim insists, his frown deepening. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Or at least spent any time with you alone, just the two of us. I miss you all the time,” he sighs, and your heart cracks down the very middle.

“You saw me just yesterday, Tim,” you say softly, a little worried. He hasn’t mentioned this before, and while you agree with him, you can’t help but feel infinitely grateful for the little time you actually have been able to spend together. You’ve known from the start that you can’t always be his first priority, and that quite often, he has bigger things to care about than you.

“For like, five minutes,” Tim says, scowling now as he jerkily pulls himself out of your lap and still manages to gracefully get to his feet, jaw tense as he stares down at you. “We literally just said hi to each other and made small talk about the weather because we didn’t have time to talk about anything other than that.”

His shoulders slump, and you can vaguely see the sun just starting to set behind him, rays shining through Tim’s hair to make him look like an angel with a halo of bright light around his head. An angel who insists on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I know that’s my fault though,” he confesses guiltily, avoiding your eyes now. “Me being a vigilante doesn’t really make it easy for us to see each other, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I’m being a bad boyfriend. You deserve better from me.”

You stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed and speechless, not able to think of what to even say. In the end, you just say his name, not even trying to hide the way his name falls effortlessly from your lips, soft and loving.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours and then dart away, unable to hold your gaze. “Tim,” you repeat, your voice barely more than a whisper as you pat the grass next to you. “Come here,” you offer. “Sit with me.”

Tim hesitates and then folds himself back down next to you with crossed legs, close enough that your knees brush against each other. Looking up as you take his hand out of his lap to link your pinkies together, you notice that the sun has gone lower in the sky, leaving behind soft streaks of vibrant colour, light pinks and blues, fiery reds and oranges.

“You know,” you start, voice breaking the silence you’d both fallen into. “Whenever I get to watch the sun setting, I’m reminded of you.” Tim turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow, patiently waiting for an explanation, and you just smile at him.

“Remember our first date?” You ask, and Tim grimaces, an embarrassed flush crawling up his neck.

“The one that I was really late for so we had to completely replan it? Yeah, I remember that.” You can tell by the snark in his voice that he’s still clearly kicking himself for it, but that’s not what you want at all.

“Tim, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” you reprimand, and he gives you an apologetic smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. You sigh and take both of his hands into yours, lifting them to your mouth to press gentle kisses to his scarred knuckles and then leaving them to rest underneath your chin.

“You were late to our date in the morning, but we both wanted to finally go on a date so badly that we just went out in the evening and sat together in the park, eating ice-cream. Remember?” Tim nods, his smile becoming a little more real at the reminder of what was basically the beginning of your relationship.

“I... dropped my ice-cream because I was tired enough to be on the verge of falling asleep, and you shared yours with me. And we watched the sun set together. That was nice,” he says softly, untangling his fingers from yours so that he can curl his hand over your lower thigh instead, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knee.

“It was,” you agree. “It was really nice because that evening, I looked at you, and the sun was hitting you just right.” Tim grins bashfully, eyes crinkling. “It made your eyes all twinkly and somehow even bluer, and you looked back at me with this really dopey smile, and I thought, all the way back then, that I could seriously fall in love with you. And I did.”

Tim gives you the same dopey smile he’d given you back then, and it still makes your heart flutter. “You did. And so did I,” he says, touching his fingers to your cheek, lingering on the curve of your jaw.

“Exactly,” you tell him. “So now, whenever I see a sunset, I think of that. Of you. And you know, the sun sets every day, so I think of you a lot,” you say nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Even when we don’t see each other for a while, you’re still in here,” you continue to explain, resting one hand on top of his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart. “And up here,” you say, tapping his temple with your other hand. “And I’m sure the same goes for you.”

The way that his face softens tells you all you need to know. You don’t hold your arms out for a hug, but you keep your body language open and inviting, waiting for Tim to move first. And sure enough, he shuffles over and curls into you, resting his chin on top of your head as you lift your arms to pull him in close enough that every inch of your bodies are touching.

“You’re right,” Tim speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence, voice slightly muffled, but you can feel his lips moving against your skin, warm and curving into a smile. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and not talking to you about this sooner.”

“You aren’t an idiot, Timmy,” you say, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye and put emphasis on your words. The sun shines on, warm and bright where it touches you. “You just needed a reminder not to be so hard on yourself, that’s all. We all do sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Tim says softly, gaze fixed upon yours, something soft and undoubtedly gooey in his blue eyes. “You know me so well.”

“Of course I do. I’m in love with you,” you reply simply, tilting your head.

“Thank you,” he replies, and you give him a look, confused. “For being you. And for loving me,” he clarifies. “I know that being with me isn’t exactly easy.”

“That’s where you’re absolutely, totally wrong,” you respond, touching his nose with your finger and smiling when it wrinkles and his eyes cross as he tries to look at it. “You don’t need to thank me for something I don’t even have to try to do.”

Tim watches you with widening eyes, lips parted. He might be shocked by what you’ve said but you’ve known this to be true for so long, as true as the sky is blue, that it’s only fair he does too.

“Loving you is—well, it’s practically as easy as breathing. And no, I’m not exaggerating when I say that, so don’t even think about it,” you rush to cut him off as he opens his mouth, and his cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink.

Tim leans forward to kiss your forehead and then huffs out a laugh against your skin, his breath cool and smelling vaguely of coffee and mint-flavoured chewing gum, the staples of his diet. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

Liar. Tim never fails to point out hyperboles in people’s speech, with that smug little shine to his eyes.

“Loving me is as easy as breathing though, huh?” He sounds amused and pleased at the same time, a terrible combination for sure. “Who’s the real sap in this relationship, huh?”

“Still you,” you fire back, and Tim chuckles, fond and exasperated. You’re still smiling at him and your legs have gone numb from sitting down for so long, but nothing can make you look away from the playful grin on Tim’s face, bright and infectious.

“If you say so,” Tim sighs, sitting back to watch the sun finish setting with you as the sky begins to darken and the first stars are about to appear, but you both know that you’re just as hopelessly gone for this boy as he is for you, and time spent apart won’t change that, because it really is true, at least in your case, that absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #dc #sfw #my fic

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 10

Chapter 10

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving in Themyscira, they were greeted by Queen Hippolyta and guided them to large hall. Introductions were made and Tikki zipped towards Hippolyta, nuzzling her cheek.

"You are the Ladybug of this generation?" The Amazonian Queen asked the youngest in the room.

"Yes, Ma’am." Marinette answered quickly and slightly panicked in the Queen's presence.

"Your soul is a true creation soul," she began her explanation. "As your soulmate and intended cat is a true destruction soul." As if on cue Damian, in corporeal form, 'crashed' through the ceiling, falling, and landing with a thud.

"Nice entrance Demon spawn." Jason snickered as Damian stood up.

"Tt. When I get my body back Grayson and Drake help me with this.” He demanded, but was actually asked of his brothers. He held up two batons.

“Dick would be better than...” Tim’s voice cut off as Damian merged the two and it expanded into a bo staff. “I stand corrected.”

“The Black Cat is the most offensive Miraculous," Hippolyta continued to explain. "As you've already found the first two, attempt to find the third."

"There are five total," Tikki chimed in. "But you'll need Plagg for the other two and to use your Power." Damian nodded and sat down fiddling with the staff, then batons, then the staff again, while listening to the Amazonian Queen.

"What does this have to do with the Lazarus Pit and bringing Damian back?” was asked by Bruce.

"Everything. Understanding the power that she is and he will, wield explains why there will not be an adverse effect on him." Hippolyta calmly explained. “The Ladybug as you may know uses a yo-yo as the primary weapon, but you also have two collapsed escrima sticks. Your powers include the 'Lucky Charm' and 'Miracle Cure’ used together you can reverse all damage caused as a result of the miraculous, or if any miraculous took part during anytime of the altercation. It is also possible to revive the dead with your power."

"So is it possible for Mari to bring back Damian?" Was asked by a hopeful Dick.

"Unfortunately not. What occurred was a result of the soul bond and the magic embedded into Marinette." A sad knowing look crossed the Queen's features. "This is where the Pits of Lazarus comes into play. As Marinette is the embodiment of creation and luck, as Damian is the embodiment of destruction and misfortune they are the two souls of this generation who can enter its waters without corruption."

"Why?" was chorused by the four eldest Waynes.

"The Pits were created by a wish merging the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous." Tikki now spoke again. "But with such powerful magic it comes with a cost. Pit madness comes when a person has a soul alignment with a miraculous, like Jason. For others it may vary, but for souls like the two of you, as part of Plagg and I, you are immune to the madness only reaping the benefits."

"Why didn't you say this before, Tikki." Tim brought up. "Because I can't see souls like my chosen can and Mari is too young to see them now." the miniature goddess responded.

"Pits as in more than one?" Bruce whispered, as if in deep thought.

"There are half a dozen pits around the world hidden away. Each is guarded by one of the inner kwamii, but that is more of a tidbit than necessary information." the Queen smiled. “Now has that calmed some concerns?"

"Is there a Pit not controlled by the League?" Jason blurted out. Because logically the league couldn't control all of them.

"A few, such as the one here on Paradise Island." Queen Hippolyta answered in turn.

"I can get my body back without the League?" Damian whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

This was the best news they could get. Damian could be revived while not having to struggle with the Pit madness. He wouldn't need to be near the League which means he wouldn't question himself. That he is able to build upon what he has since moving to Gotham without being the Prince of Assassins.

"Yes. Now come little bug, little cat." Marinette and Damian each flanked the Queen as the rest followed behind.

A short trek into the Mountains and they arrived at a pit. The same acidic green with chaos and creation swirled. Damian's body was deposited next to the swirling pool.

"Understand that when you emerge, both of you, will train here in order to strengthen and teach you the magic you will wield." the two children nodded, clear resolve on their features. "Good."

After bringing Damian back from the dead they almost immediately were placed into training. It was true that there was no madness, his mind was intact without being clouded by anger. Their soul bond was a huge benefit. Where Damian caught the physical aspect quickly and it transferred to Mari. While Mari was a natural at magic and helped guide Damian through.

Yes the Amazon’s did not particularly trust men but they could recognize Damian as a Black Cat, which along with his brother’s nickname Demon Spawn, he gained the name Hellcat. That and they could clearly see that Damian was Marinette’s soulmate, but didn’t treat her as a damsel in distress, instead as a partner and equal. Which helped him earn some respect to the warriors around them. Which was how the two spent most of the week before going back.

What they couldn't be prepared for was the tornado named Jagged. As soon as they arrived in the manor he was there in a fury of a whirlwind.

"Hey little Rocker, how was the trip?"

"It was fun." Marinette smiled at her dad.

"So got any pictures to show your papa, love." he asked excitedly.

"Pictures?" she repeated quizzically.

That was when the Wayne’s and Mari began to laugh

"What’s so funny?" The rocker asked confused.

"Apparently we were so caught up in the vacation we didn’t take pictures." Tim grinned, the little liar he is, spoke up. He had pictures but they were mostly of his brothers getting their asses handed to them by the Amazons. And he couldn’t explain how they happened to be on the secret hidden island filled with Amazonian warriors. "Their also was zero service on the island." He finished with a shrug.

"Ohh I did bring back some shells and crystals and some seeds for my garden." Mari chimed in. "I can tell you all about it."

"Yes you can on the plane to wherever you and the bird you choose to come with us." Jagged smiled at his daughter.

"Jared what are you..." Bruce near finished his sentence.

Jagged having interrupted his thoughts he sentence. “Come now Batsey you steal little rocker for a week so I steal one of your birds." He stated as a matter of fact.

Bruce just stood with his jaw slack. Sure Mari told them he figured them out, but he forgot, he had a child to revive goddamn it. “Fine but I think it’ll be a good idea to tell him Mari." He turned to the young girl.

The girl chewed her lip before putting her hand in her light vest shirt. A red pixie bug flew out and sat on Mari’s head.

"Hello I’m Tikki the Ladybug kwamii, Marinette is my chosen holder." Tikki's voice rang through the room.

"I’m sorry what now?" The rocker was eerily still and quiet.

"Long story short your daughter is a magical girl and Demon Spawn is her soulmate and is also a magical girl, boy, you get the idea." Jason chuckled.

"Okay let me get this straight. Mari's soulmate is the Grumpy Gargoyle, they are both magical kids who are chosen by fairies. All of you are Gotham's vigilantes, which I'm assuming you've been training Little Rocker."

"Yes.??” Dick answered unsure.

"Okay."

"Okay." Dick again responded. Before realizing, "Wait! Okay!”

"Ya," Jagged shrugged. "You've all met Mari. This is completely plausible with her. So who are we stealing from Bruce?"

"Dames!" she jumped to hug him from behind, arms wrapped around his neck.

Damian for his part didn't throw Marinette off. In fact he repositioned to piggy back her, a ghost of a smile spread on his neutral features.

"So where are we going?"

Yucatan Peninsula

Why?

The Twins said a gift for future bugs and cats were there.

Haven't their been cats and bugs since them?

Yes but travel was limited.

In other words scavenger hunt.

Yes. How's your Spanish? Because the most logical place to start would be the Mayan ruins.

"Mejor que eI tuyo." she smirked at him.

"God damn it their doing it again." Jason dragged his hands down his face.

"Doing what?"

"Their bond is shockingly rare, its a Mind link sharing knowledge, meaning basically anything one knows so does the other. As if that isn't enough now they can communicate telepathically."

"So why the Spanish rocker?"

"Cancun, Mayan scavenger hunt." she grinned.

"Sounds good. I'll shoot Penny a text and we'll leave tomorrow sound good?"

"Yup." She responded, Damian nodded and finally set her down.

Your helping me pack.

As if I'd let you do it yourself.

Knowing you, you'd pack your Robin uniform.

'Pfft'

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[butwhyduh]

Jumping

Tim drake x reader

This is during the time that Dick has to fake his own death. I’m also ignoring most of canon tbh. Mentions suicide ideals.

You worried about Tim. I mean, you always had since you met him in a coffee shop and they gave him your order instead of his and all he did was ask for a shot of espresso to go with it. But tonight you were terribly concerned because Tim was so sad that he was dull. His shiny black hair hang limp and his bright blue eyes looked dull and blood shot.

You couldn’t exactly blame him. It was only 2 week before that his brother Dick had died. He hadn’t touched his computer all day but instead sat staring at various places around his apartment. You forced him to eat a very late meal and he took all of 3 bite from his food.

You washed up and went back in the living room for him to be gone.

“Tim? Tim?” You asked. You noticed the window to the fire escape was open. You walked over and shivered at the cold breeze.

He was standing on the edge of the roof and you froze. Your first thought was ‘is he going to jump?’ Your heart pounded as you gently called him and it scared you even more when he didn’t respond.

“Tim? Timothy? Tim, what are you doing?” You said with fear creeping in your voice. There was no way that you could climb the stairs up a level to stop him if he jumped right now. He looked down at you disoriented.

“What?”

“Please step back. You’re- you’re scaring me. Tim, please,” you said and he took a step back but looked bewildered. You quickly climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a daze. You pulled him into a hug and farther from the edge. Your body was shaking and he confusingly pat your back reassuringly.

“Don’t scare me like that,” you chided him before mentally kicking yourself. If he was that bad, he needed support not anger. He really didn’t seem to get it.

“What are you talking about? What’s got you so scared?” He finally said clearly.

“I thought- I thought you were going to jump,” you said burying your head in crook of his neck. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt tightly and you listened to his heartbeat. You might never let go of him.

“Oh shit. I wasn’t- no. I just needed to think,” he said rubbing your hair gently. “Sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’m just worried. It’s a lot to lose your brother. Maybe you should talk to someone,” you said gently. He looked at you guiltily.

“I’ve been a little too lost in it, hu? Sorry. It’s just that.... I never expected this to happen. He always seemed invincible. He’d jump off the roof with no hooks or nets and swing on light poles before landing on the ground and wouldn’t hurt a thing. He’d take on metas and come out unscathed. That was just Dick, you know?” Tim said after a minute. “Nobody knew how he did it.”

Tim pulled you both to sit on a lawn chair on the roof. Your fingers played with the back of his hair and you couldn’t stop looking at him because you had never been so worried to lose Tim before. He flinched at the sight of how you looked at him. You were genuinely terrified earlier.

“I wouldn’t jump. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not to you,” Tim said and it scared you that you weren’t sure if he meant that he’d never do it or not where you’d possibly see. “Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

You let yourself believe that and you leaned into him, pressing your ear against his chest. His heartbeat calmed you and you listened to it as he rubbed your back. He stared out at the sky and Tim didn’t know how long you were both out there before he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He smiled a little.

Then his next thought was the logistics of getting you down to your bed without waking you. The fire escape wasn’t exactly built for carrying people through. Soft goosebumps were on your arms in the cold and Tim carefully picked you up and miraculously made it back into your apartment. After a few hair raising seconds where he almost smacked your head and feet on a door frame, he managed to get you in bed.

You hands had a death grip on his shirt and Tim was pulled into bed. It wasn’t the worst idea to get some sleep. And he certainly felt that he owed you some peace of mind after he scared you so bad. When was the last time he fell asleep? He laid back and you clung to him tightly.

The next morning you woke up warm. Far too warm. And arm was thrown over your face that you wiggled out from under and another held your back. You stretched your fingers that felt like they had been gripping something all night. The sun was out and Tim was still in bed. You put the pieces from the night before together and looked up at his face.

There was no scowl or wrinkle in his brow. He looked peaceful. His lips had a slight pout in sleep. His face had a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks and his hair had fallen over his eyes. You gently brushed it back to get a better look at his beautiful face. You held the back of his head as light as you could while staring at him. You almost never got this view and you just watched him sleep for a few minutes.

“Isn’t it rude to stare,” he said after a while. You jumped a little and laughed.

“Did I wake you?” You asked.

“No. I think I actually got a full night sleep,” Tim said and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Yeah, we should probably get breakfast,” you said moving to get up. Tim wrapped his arms around you tighter and squished you to his chest. You squeaked.

“Not yet. A few more minutes,” he mumbled almost back asleep. You chuckled and booped his nose. Tim’s eyes flew open. “What was that?”

“Waking you up,” you said and he gave you a fake glare before his arms slowly moved. Then Tim attacked your sides with a tickle. You shrieked and jumped back before he stopped. He smiled at you almost ruefully before gently kissing you chastely. His smile fell when he pulled back.

“I’ve got to go to Bludhaven today. Take care of some of his stuff that he’d want to keep,” Tim said and you frowned.

“Do you need me to go?” You were still worried about him.

“No, Jason is going. Don’t worry about me, okay,” Tim said seriously. “I need to get up because he’ll be here in 30 minutes? Maybe?”

The knock on the door said that his timing was a little off. Tim got up to go answer it. Jason stood there and he frowned as he looked Tim over.

“That’s your clothes from yesterday.”

“I’ve got to change,” Tim said, letting him in. You came out of the room with a sweater over your clothes and smiled at Jason who nodded his head at you. Tim went in the bedroom to change.

“Hey,” you whispered, barely audible. Jason looked at you confused. You hadn’t really interacted much before. “Watch out for him. He’s not okay. Alright?”

Jadon just nodded. “Anything I should know?”

“No. Not really. He scared me last night,” you admitted as you put on a pot of coffee. Jason gave you a look that clearly read ‘do I need to kick his ass?’

“What did he do?”

“He just stood on the roof edge. I thought- I thought he was going to jump,” you whispered and Jason’s face dropped. Tim hadn’t exactly had the most self preservation in his history.

“Shit, seriously?” He said with a sigh. You nodded.

“But he just seemed confused when I found him. I’m worried. Just watch out for him, okay?” You said.

“What are you two talking about?” Tim said walking in the room, throwing on a tie.

“Really? A full suit?” Jason said rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, one of us needs to look like a functional adult in case someone stops by. I can’t exactly wear sweats everywhere as WE’s CEO,” Tim said. You straightened the tie and collar.

“... and then there is you,” Tim said looking at Jason after you were done. “You look like you tattoo out of the back parking lot of a Denny’s.”

“Maybe I do,” he said dryly with a little curl to his lip. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Tim nodded and gave you a kiss and Jason groaned by the door. He gave the ‘come on’ hand gesture. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know when I’m going to be back. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Half ways down the highway, with Tim as a captive audience, Jason starts to talk.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Cut the shit. For real,” Jason said, violently passing a slow car on the highway in his truck. Tim grips the dash and is sure he’s going to die.

“I’m fine. Why do you think I’m lying?” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason keeps driving roughly.

“Well, your girlfriend thought you were going to kill yourself last night and that isn’t exactly the first thought I’d have if I saw you on the roof. So either she’s being dramatic or you’re acting really off. Which is it, Timbo?” Jason said. Tim never missed Dick more. Jason had the subtly of a butter knife to the gut.

“I might be a little sadder, sure. I mean, my brother died,” Tim said. “Can you drive without trying to kill us?”

“I’m driving fine. Go on,” Jason said, crossing 3 lanes. The squeals of car horns behind them tell Tim he isn’t the only one that doesn’t like his driving.

“I’m gonna die in this car,” Tim muttered. Jason glared at him. “Watch the road! Okay. Fine. I feel numb. Okay? Like I don’t feel happy or sad about anything. And I’m fucking guilty because I should be over the moon because I just moved in with my girlfriend and then...”

“Then your brother died. It’s normal to feel like shit Tim. But to be numb.... you ever think you’re depressed?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know. I have anxiety,” Tim answered.

“You can have both. Is it this exit or the next?” Jason asked two second before the ramp comes up.

“This!” Tim yelped and Jason turned them off to a side road going at least 70 mph. Tim held the dash and considered praying despite being an atheist. Jason finally slowed down enough to not look like he’s driving a getaway car.

“I think you should see a therapist. I can give you mine’s number,” Jason said and Tim quickly turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“I was tortured, beat to death, and had to dig myself out of my own coffin. Does that seem mentally okay in anyway?”

“I mean, no. But I don’t know,” Tim said with a shrug. He just hadn’t thought about it.

“Anyways that’s not the point. The point is that she’s used to Gotham’s brand of bullshit and will help you. Okay?” Jason said driving into a parking lot and skidding into a space. “If you scare your girl like that again, I’ll knock you out.”

“Yeah. I won’t scare her again. It was an accident. And I’ll talk to your therapist,” Tim agreed. Jason nodded.

“Let’s go do something I’ve been dreading all week. Clean out golden boy’s apartment,” he said with a grimace. And they did. Anything of value was personally taken by the pair. Anything of Nightwing or Robin. Any Flying Grayson stuff. Anything that his brothers had gotten him. A moving service was moving the rest to a storage unit later that day.

Jason sat on the concrete steps outside the apartment and tossed Tim a beer. Tim barely caught it before sitting down himself. Jason pulled out his own.

“Jason, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to not drink that before we leave. Can we have this moment at the manor after we survive the drive home?” Tim asked and Jason sighed.

“Sure kid. Dickhead wouldn’t have liked me getting you drunk anyways. Let’s get this stuff back,” Jason said and they both went to the truck.

After dropping off the stuff and talking to Alfred, Tim and Jason were back in the truck. The beers were mercifully forgotten. Jason passed him a paper with a name and number.

“My therapist. You better call them. If not for you, for your girlfriend. You can just talk and shit,” he said not looking off the road. Jason knew better than to think that this kind of thing could be done for someone else. But he also knew it probably only took a tiny push for Tim to get help.

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few hours later Tim sat on his bed with his phone in hand. Yeah, he needed to call them.

#tim drake angst #tim drake x reader #Red Robin x reader #Jason todd is a good brother #dick is dead #batboy x reader

[createdfromthestars]

The Hug, Tim’s POV

This is a companion piece to a fic I wrote earlier from Lucy’s perspective (you can find it here) about that damn hug! It was only fair to show Officer Zaddy getting all flustered by that hug, I’m 100% on board the SS Tim Catches Feelings/Realizes He Has Feelings First.

You can also read them both over on my AO3!

Tim was absentmindedly adjusting the pillows on the couch, more focused on trying to organize his thoughts and emotions. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours, and he was finding it difficult to keep his thoughts clear. He had experienced loss before, it was a guarantee when he signed up for the army and this job, but something was different. He heard Lucy turn on the sink in the bathroom as he picked up a blanket from the coffee table to lay out. He closed his eyes, a small part of him hoping that when he opened them, this would have all been a nightmare and it would be the morning of the wedding.

 But that was a different Tim, a naive and young Tim. He couldn’t be that right now, not if he wanted to find Angela and deal with Jackson’s death. A sudden memory of Jackson’s smile when they received their awards together rocked him deep in the chest. He took a steady breath, and could feel the tears gathering at the corners. He quickly wiped them away, trying to disperse the image from his mind. Lucy had turned off the water, and he knew she’d be out soon. He couldn’t lose it in front of her, not when Jackson was her best friend, and he knew she had barely begun to process this significant loss. He wanted to be there for her, to help her if he could, but he couldn’t do that if he broke down in front of her. No, he would be strong for her. And maybe that’s why this time was different, because Lucy had changed him over their year together. He might not admit that to her, but he was not the same person he was when they first got put together as training officer and rookie. When she told him she couldn’t go back to the apartment, he didn’t hesitate to offer her his place instead. He made the mistake once of telling her to go find comfort in someone else after a tough case, and it ended up with her buried alive. He would never make that mistake again. And he wanted to be close to her in case the inevitable breakdown happened sooner rather than later. He dropped onto the couch as she opened the bathroom door.

He looked at her, he let her borrow a t-shirt and sweatpants, which were clearly two sizes too big for her, the sleeves landing past her elbows and the waistband of the pants rolled a few times so she didn’t trip. He liked seeing her in his clothes, it made her look like she belonged in this new house of his. He quickly tossed the thought aside, he didn’t have the mental strength to deal with understanding why he liked seeing her this way. She was questioning why he was sitting on the couch, and he could hear how tired and drained she was. He told her he wouldn’t have his guest sleep on the couch, but she wouldn’t have it, she didn’t want to put him out of his own bed. He knew she wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep on the couch, but honestly, he doubted she’d sleep well anyplace tonight. He didn’t want to argue with her about something silly, so he gave in easily. He stood awkwardly in his living room, not sure what to do next. He asked her if she needed anything, and his heart ached when she asked for the last day back. In that moment, he knew he would’ve moved heaven and earth if he could give her this one wish.

He gave her a sad smile, “I’m sorry I don’t have that power.”

She looked at her feet, let out a small breath and quietly said “A hug?”

His mind flashed to the last time he held her in his arms, after he pulled her from the depths of a metal tin and breathed life back into her lungs. Last time he gave her comfort, it was because she had escaped death. However this time, he consoled her because he couldn’t cheat death this time, no matter how much he wished he could. His heart sped up as he met her eyes, shiny with tears she wouldn’t allow to fall, and he felt his feet move forward. She was leaning into him before he got his arms around her. He felt her forehead on his shoulder and her hand on his back, grabbing onto his shirt like she was afraid he’d disappear. His one arm wrapped full around her, and it struck him in that moment how small she really was. He gently caressed her head, whispering soothing words of “it’s ok,” into her freshly washed hair. He wanted to convey to her she could break down if she needed to, and he’d be here to catch her. He breathed in the fresh scent of his shampoo in her hair, and truly felt how close they were. He realized he could stay like this for hours and would never tire of holding her close, his cheek resting against her head, her hand settled between his shoulder blades. He knew he would always be there for her, but it was starting to settle into his mind just exactly what that meant. He could feel her shallow breaths against his chest, and his heart was racing away as he continued to think of her in his arms. He realized where his train of thought was headed, and he pulled back quicker than he meant to. To ease her, he gently ran his hands down her arms, giving them a light squeeze, as he tried to gain a little composure back. But he didn’t want to leave her, he didn’t want to be far from her. He wanted her to stay right here, in his arms, and let the rest of the world fade away. He couldn’t look at her though, he was a little embarrassed about how much he was thinking about her. He tried to stare at anything other than her dark brown eyes, eyes that he knew could see past his walls and see the real him, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for her to see how much he needed her.

He saw her lean in again, and he made the mistake of looking straight into her face. She was closer than he thought, and he caught her unaware, her eyes darting up from his lips to meet his eyes as she leaned back. He was thrown off by catching her staring at him, and his mind started running wild with different reasons as to why. And now, he was glancing at her lips, moving his hand back up her left arm, and he could feel his breath catch in his chest. It was only for a second, but he had the crazy notion of pulling her in close and kissing her. He was at a loss for words, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but he could see how easy he would be able to pull her close enough to make it happen. His stomach dropped low and his heart beat so hard it hurt, and suddenly, he needed to escape. Losing Angela and Jackson was making the world grey, and Lucy was a beacon of light to him. And like a moth to a flame, he was getting dangerously close to burning himself. He bid her a quick goodnight, and stepped around her, brushing her shoulder with his. He felt the burn all the way down his arm at the contact and practically ran to his room.

He shut the bedroom door, collapsed onto his bed, closing his eyes. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and tried to get his thoughts together. He tried to stop thinking about Lucy, about her being in his house and about kissing her, but when he did, he was overcome by the loss of his friends. He was trying to stay positive about Angela, but Jackson’s death was making it hard to not think the worse. He should’ve checked in on her one last time, to make sure she was calm and collected, maybe he would’ve been able to prevent this tragedy. Maybe he could’ve protected Jackson, saved him even. Tim was beginning to lose himself in a world of what ifs, his breath was becoming shallow as different scenarios of ways he could’ve saved them played out in his head. He was trying to keep his head above these emotions, but the only thing keeping him afloat was Lucy. He took in a shaky gulp of air, and opened his eyes. He felt his heart pick up speed, as his eyes glanced towards the door, and who laid on the other side. He wasn’t crazy, he knew Lucy was an attractive woman, but he never let himself think about that fact because she was his rookie. He would never undermine her integrity or training because he thought she was beautiful. But it was all different now, they were equals at work, he wasn’t her superior anymore.

He swung his legs to the ground, not fully aware he was even sitting up. He was rubbing his hands together, a small sweat gathering on his forehead as he wrestled with what to do next. He didn’t want to be alone with his despair and pain, and it all disappeared with Lucy. He wanted her beside him in his bed, the realization hit him like a smack to the head. He wanted her in his arms, her head tucked under his, each holding the darkness at bay for each other. And he wanted to kiss her, bad. He wanted to comfort her and be comforted by her. He was up and walking to the door, throwing caution to the wind. They were adults, and could talk about it in the morning, but he didn’t want to feel alone anymore. His hand was on the doorknob when his phone rang.

He jumped at the sound, took a glance at the door, before reaching for his phone on the nightstand. When he saw it was Wesley he answered, unsure what news he had. When he heard him say that he had Angela’s location, he ripped the door open to get Lucy. She seemed startled when he rounded the corner, but when he told her they had located Angela, she jumped out of bed and started gathering her clothes. He looked at her, and his thoughts from earlier were still swimming around, but he pushed them away. He’d deal with those at another time, right now all he could think about was getting his best friend back.

#the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #chenford #tucy #angela lopez #jackson west #wesley evers #my fic

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|20

chapter 20: the screenwriter.

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: the battlefield and the casualties. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst, angst, angst, I use war as a metaphor,  

word count: 10.1 k

playlist(1: with song names) 

playlist 2 (Spotify link)

Playlist: perf1Dy (one direction+solo songs)

social media before you read  :

PART ONE: BEFORE THE PARTY ||  PART TWO: THE PARTY 

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist sequel name announcement

Hi :) thanks to @peachybloomss for being my beta reader. You’re gonna hate me, bye! :)!  🍉

Chaos. Chaos. Chaos. 

You could hear it, the chaos, people running, shaking, disaster. Your heart was beating fast if you had one, that is. Did you have a heart after this? 

How was your heart working after all of this was beyond your knowledge. Everything was ruined. You couldn’t pity yourself now, you had no right. You wouldn’t cry, not right now. You were okay. 

You were running through a battlefield, bleeding, but it was still not over. Your wounds could wait because honestly, they didn’t matter. But you knew it, you’d never heal. You needed a storm to wash away the pain, but the chaos was bringing more chaos. 

You had walked back into the house, not sure why; not sure who you were looking for. What were you trying to do? 

Emma. Yes, Emma first. 

Even as the chaos continued. 

You needed to hurry, you wanted to run. You’d rather be anywhere. Anywhere, seriously. Because this was your fault. This was completely your fault. The rain was supposed to pour down, the war was supposed to start. You were the one to cause this, you were the double agent. The duplicity. Had you told Tom earlier about the script, had you not written all your damn thoughts then you wouldn’t be here. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating Tom, but maybe that was a sacrifice that you would have paid instead of this chaos. Instead of this battle. 

The war continued and this seemed like it had been the last battle, both of you had lost. Both of you were bleeding. 

He hadn’t listened to you. 

But you had made the weapon that had destroyed you both, you and Tom. This was your fault. Sure, he had done it in the worst timing. But he was not a monster. You had painted him wrong. But he hadn’t listened to you you. He hadn’t asked. You didn’t blame him, he didn’t know your whole story. 

But then again, you didn’t know his. 

This wasn’t his fault, he was a spark waiting for a long time to be ignited. Alcohol is flammable. 

Could you ever carry on? And though you knew you couldn’t fix it, the first thing you’d done was to look up for him. As if in a cry for help, as if asking him to save you. To save him. 

But you both needed saving. 

You rushed through the crowd who were clearly still talking, shocked. They were talking. And you were a villain. You were the bad guy in their story because they didn’t know the whole story. But they didn’t need to, because they knew something true. 

But you saw Timmy, helping Emma get across to the stairs, she was crying, she was wounded. The casualty. 

You rushed to her, you needed to fix this with her. She was your friend, you were not meant to hurt her. She was not supposed to fall into this mess. She didn’t deserve this. 

“Emma,” you called. Timmy was sad, too, but he seemed angry. You’d never seen him this way. He was pissed, his sight was dark. He was very, very angry. 

Timmy turned to see you, he shook his head. 

“Please, can I talk to you?” You asked anyway, approaching them, as Emma kept going upstairs. 

Timmy followed after. “No, y/n it’s not a good time,” he warned you. 

You followed them. “Please, please, Emma--.” 

“No, get away from me,” Emma finally turned around to you as you were both on the edge of the stairs. “I knew it—I knew it,” she cried, as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m—y/n, I just—” Tears were falling down her face as she took a deep breath. “No, it’s not… I’m not even—” Her voice was cracking. “You and Tom should fucking solve your problems alone but now—” 

“I’m sorry, Emma, it’s all a misunderstanding.” 

“Is it?” She turned darker. “He said it! How you wrote a script and apparently you loved my fiance!” 

You felt a dagger in your chest. “No, it was taken out of context—” You tried to implore.  

She scoffed. “Was it, y/n?” she growled. “Because I’ve been living in fear that you’ll one day finally realize it! Maybe you didn’t know it, y/n, but I saw it! Fuck you saw it too, right Timmy?” 

Tim pursed his lips as he took a deep breath.

“No, Emma—I swear, it’s nothing like you think it is,” you explained. 

Emma ran to you, she was crying, and she looked at you, her eyes full of tears begging for an explanation. 

“Emma, come here, let’s calm down,” Timmy grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back to him, Emma pushed his hand away. 

“No—I’m not—” She warned Timmy and then turned back to you. “I thought you were my friend.” 

“I am your friend, Emma I didn’t mean for all of this to happen,” you urged. 

She was shaking, her hands were shaking as she tried to hug herself. “Then why? Why—Are you trying to take him away from me?” She shrieked. 

“No, I’m not—No, I want you both to be happy, I know he loves you.” 

Emma screamed and brought her hands to her head. 

Timmy rushed to pull her into a hug, calming her down. “Okay, Emma, no please, calm down.” 

She pushed him away and punched her way out of his embrace. “Don’t you fucking dare to defend her right now, Timmy, because guess what she didn’t fucking love you either.” 

Neither you and Timmy said anything. You both knew Emma was angry, and one should never speak when we’re angry. 

“Because of-- fuck, and your whole act? Loving Tom?” She snapped. “It wasn’t true, was it?” 

“I’m in love with Tom,” you snapped, somehow that had triggered you even more. “I am not in love with Harry, I love him as a best friend-” 

She only glared. “Did something ever happen between you and Harry?” 

“Nothing, Emma! I swear nothing happened, ever!” You tried to explain. 

She crossed her arms, “and did you ever wish something could happen?” 

You shook your head. “No!” 

Emma was fuming, but Timmy took her hand again. “Emma come on.” 

Emma had given up at that point, as she only made her way to a room. “And tell your boyfriend to fuck off!” She yelled at you before disappearing with Tim.

That was a lost battle. The second lost battle here. You knew it, you wouldn’t win another. You rushed downstairs back to the other chaos, with people rushing and staring. Talking. 

You saw Sam, he seemed hurt, he avoided you. Dom and Nikki were talking to Emma’s parents. You saw James, and he only sighed. 

You gulped, continuing your way around the house, and you saw the garden again. You saw curls, rushing as he was heading anywhere, you saw Harry walking in circles. Stressed. He was angry, he was sad, he was confused. 

You walked past the battlefield and ran to him, he was talking to himself, rubbing his face and his hair. 

“Harry,” you said quietly, almost not wanting him to hear. 

He only glared at you and walked away. 

You followed him. “Harry, Harry, please—Please I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head. “No, y/n,” he gulped. “I really don’t think I can be seen with you right now okay?” 

He was calm. He wasn’t angry. He was too calm for your convenience. Harry was always calm to you, but you didn’t want him to be calm. He couldn’t be calm to you. 

“I—I’m sorry,” was all you could say. 

He took a deep breath, bringing his hands to his face. “This isn’t—” He looked at you. “Look, I asked you only one thing today, okay?”He gulped. “And now—Now if they see me talking to you everyone will think—Fuck.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even your fault—” The calmness on his voice had disappeared. “Or maybe it is!” He scoffed. “I don’t even know right now—I don’t even know how to fucking feel!” He confessed. “This is bloody ruined.” 

“I’m sorry... I should’ ve—I should’ve calmed Tom,” you didn’t even know how to apologize to him. 

He clenched his jaw, placing his hands on his hips. He was too stressed. It was the first time you couldn’t know how he was feeling. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what the hell was going through your best friend’s mind. You didn’t blame him. 

“No, but here’s the thing y/n,” his voice had turned so deep, and dark, raspy. “I’m angry at you,” he stated. “Because he probably got mad for a reason, and what he said--I mean, I’m angry because his reasons are justified,” Harry continued. “So, I’m angry at you, because…” He shook his head. “But I’m angrier at him because he couldn’t wait! Bloody hell if he’d caused a scene with only the three of us, I wouldn’t have,” he closed his eyes. “But I’m angry because--It always has to be about him he always fucking puts on a show, he always fucking does this! And that’s—I don’t-” He couldn’t map out his emotions. 

You repeat yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“I—I don’t even know how to—” He clenched his jaw. “And you!”He laughed, a dark laugh. “And now everyone thinks we—I don’t even know what they think!” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“And the worst part is that—I—I can’t get married now, Emma probably doesn’t… I just please get away from me.” 

You left, knowing this was another lost battle. Three battles now. And you didn’t know which one hurt more. 

You saw your parents, they looked sad, disappointed. And confused. Everyone was confused. 

But you kept searching for your brother, he only quietly led the way outside. You saw Tuwaine, he only gave you a second glance. Harrison and Sam again. You saw them yelling, watching as Tom was throwing up on some random bushes. 

You tried to walk in, but James tried to stop you. 

“Sam—Sam,” you called. 

Sam turned to you. “Not right now y/n.” He was cold. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for what seemed the thousandth time. 

Sam looked away. 

James frowned, as he took you by your hand and dragged you away. “I don’t even understand why you’re apologizing, you—This isn’t your fault.” 

“But it is.” 

James stayed with you that night. You didn’t cry. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was guilt. It probably was guilt. You didn’t sleep. James had taken your phone, to make sure you didn’t text or call anybody. He said you needed to calm down. He was right, you needed to calm down. 

Which was weird, because you weren’t making a scene. You were too quiet, you didn’t know how to react to this. He asked the real reason why Tom was mad. 

And you gave him the script. He stayed up all night to read it. You had stayed up in your room, hugging your little frog. 

You thought about it, how you always had it wrong when it came to love. Always the wrong streets. You had fucked it up, badly. With Harry, with Tim, with Tom. You never knew what the hell was up. There were no more tears that could help this. But you really didn’t want to go to that dark place again, you couldn’t go there. You needed to cry, but the tears didn’t want to come out, as if you were too proud. The moon was judging you, washing your silks as you were barely breathing. 

There was a part that had you thinking that Tom was still wrong. Not because he didn’t have the right to be mad, but because he truly didn’t know where you had been.  Because you had meant those words, most of them, because that’s how you’d felt. And though he wasn’t a monster, you’d been there. He had robbed you of your happiness, or your chances to be happy. Because that’s how you really felt. You couldn’t pretend he didn’t hurt you. You couldn’t pretend you hadn’t cried for months, you couldn’t fucking pretend you hadn’t gone to the doctor only to be told you were heartbroken. 

Because that was also truth. Because you had lost yourself, you had drowned. You couldn't pretend he hadn’t been a monster. You wouldn’t have expected yourself from a few years ago to be okay with it. 

Because it had hurt, so much. You had cried, you had bled. Because it was true. Tom has been a monster. And you couldn’t lie, not with that. 

But the script was the story of how the beast turned into a beautiful creature, of how you had found that he had a heart. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been a monster. It really had felt awful. 

But he changed your mind, he changed the story. That’s what he didn’t get. Because this was your side of the story and you couldn’t simply erase it. 

But did it matter now? To fight for your story? 

And there you were, laying down on the bed when nights before he’d kissed you. You were alone now, your room was cold. And you wish he’d never left. You wished he had listened to you.  

But you both were so stupid, you both were so happy. And one of you had to fire, because this was a war.  You wish it hadn’t been you. 

Maybe he was crying this time. Maybe he was feeling like you had after those flowers. Were you both staring at an empty feeling? Was he going to call you? Was he expecting you to call him? 

And had you really wanted that? To make him feel the way you had? You couldn’t want that. 

But your pain didn’t justify you. But it was different now. And then there you were. Wishing you’d never written it. 

And you felt lonely. And you didn’t want to feel lonely. 

You needed to be with him. You didn’t like the night now, he wasn’t there to hold you. The stars were not bright, You knew this was over, he was over. And it was so hard, knowing you had  hurt him. This was you digging your end.

And you looked at your walls, this couldn’t be over. 

James had walked into your room the next morning, he hadn’t slept. 

“He didn’t finish it,” James pointed out. “Did he?” 

“No.”

James sat down. “But I get where he’s coming from.” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

He sighed. “You really fucked it up, huh?” He asked. “Still I don’t… I don’t think he did it right by snapping there.” 

You stayed quiet. 

“There are a lot of things that you don’t understand about Tom,” James started. “None of us, really. But  I get where he’s coming from. He loves you.”

“Does he?” 

He sighed. “Well.” 

“He said it, he’s tired of pretending he loves me, and he said it, how I deserve to be lonely, maybe he’s right.” 

“No, no, y/n.” 

“I need to be, for a few days, I’m not… I need time, okay? It’s hard enough for me, and right now, I need a favour, please, if you can, talk to them, to Harry, to Sam, explain to them how Tom wasn’t the one who fucked up, he’s not a monster, okay?” 

James watched you. 

“I love him, James,” you admitted. “I can’t believe I did this to him. And… I’ve hurt him, all of them. Timmy, Harry, Tom.” 

He sighed. “And how can you fix this?” He asked.

“I don’t know. “ 

“Who will you try to fix first?” He questioned. “Who do you want to keep in your life?” 

“Do I have to choose only one?” 

“Y/N,” James rolled his eyes. “It’s not--” 

“I love Tom,” you admitted. “But Harry is my best friend.”

“And Tim?” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“You know you have to give up one.” 

“But why?” You frowned. “I don’t want… I don’t know, I can’t give up my friendship with Harry, and… I know Timmy will stay, as a friend. But Tom… At least I want him in life, I need him, I love him. I want to fix it, but I know I can’t.” 

“He has to know you love him.” 

“I know…And for that… Maybe I have to be lonely.” 

And you were lonely, for a few days. But it was alright. You needed time to think, to craft this. No one had reached out for you. And maybe Tom had been right, you had fucked it up, and maybe you’d be alone. You deserved it. You really were alone right now, and you didn’t care. Because you needed to think about it, find a way to fix this. Big mistakes were made. Because it had been fragile. So fragile. And you broke Tom. 

That didn’t mean you couldn’t try and fix this. 

But you couldn’t get your mind at ease. Because this was you, but he hadn’t read it. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand how you had changed it. How he had changed the story. 

And you had an idea. What you could tell was that Tom was the angriest because he didn’t believe you loved him. And you didn’t blame him. 

But you had to prove him. And it was weird because, for the first time, you’d broken his heart. 

But this wasn’t easy. 

Sure, he’d hurt you, too. This wasn’t a first time he’d hurt you, but you thought you’d learned better.  And you’d be lying if you said his own words hadn’t shattered you either. Because he said you deserved to be lonely, and he said he pretended to love you. And you believed him. Maybe he had pretended to love you. You played with fire, and you had both burned. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from crying now, because this was all ruined. And he hadn’t listened to you. You’d hurt him. And Harry. And Tim. 

There was only emptiness now, you didn’t even feel… anything. Nothing to say would solve this. Maybe you had to face it, maybe this time it was over for good. And you had to accept it. 

But right now, you were trying to figure out if it had only been only an act of playing pretend, you were trying to understand if you really had gone to the battle wanting to win. Maybe you were destined to lose. Because you were sure that even if you were now standing in the end, there was still a beginning. 

And so you had an idea, to show the first times. Everybody talks about first times, but not the best ones. Not the ones that really settle in a relationship. Not the ones that you barely remember. But they’re important. 

Everybody remembers the first kiss, the first date, the first time you slept together, the first time saying I love you. You clearly remembered those. 

But you had your way of remembering them. 

But remembering only hurt more because it all led to this, seeing the polaroids on your wall, the napkin, your dresses, the pictures on your phone. This was the story of a breakup, the story of how something that could’ve been. The story of how you had ruined this. 

And you had been alone thinking. If you turned back to where it all started, wanting to win the war, did you really want to win it?  Had this been the sweet revenge you were looking for? Or had it been just a pathetic excuse just to get close to him and finally accept your feelings? Maybe this just meant you were both too proud to accept it. But you were hurt, too. 

Very, very hurt. 

And now there you were, wondering what you had done wrong, wanting to turn back time so you had said no to that dare, to that script, if you hadn’t written those horrible words.  Because then it wouldn’t have hurt that much. Both playing pretend but both letting each other fall. 

But you remembered a first time, the first time you kissed, the first time you crushed on him and the last time he hurt you and the day you had promised yourself you’d never think of Tom Holland as anything but an asshole whom you would never trust, and you remembered that from a very young age you’d promised yourself that you’d never get tangled in his charms. Because they were not true. 

But you weren’t really one to talk now about truthful charms and you couldn’t say anything because you were no better than him.

You went back to that promise, after burning yellow flowers. And how you had initially written it, how  Tom Holland--William was so vain, and arrogant and too proud of himself. And everything revolved around him. Even your mind and your heart right now. But it was Tom, the idiot you’ve sworn you’d hate your whole life and the one who annoyed you whenever he strutted into a room. 

This was Tom, there was no reason to cry. You’d cried enough for him.  You’d always say it: ‘I’d rather have grounds in my coffee than spend 5 minutes with him.’ Yet you were crying. You were crying now. 

But you had never hated him. But you knew he hated you now. 

What were you even doing? You were drowning again. Were you going to ask him to love him after this? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

But you wanted him to know that you had loved him. But you couldn’t make any more promises. Not anymore. 

You had gone and bought flowers, loose flowers, and you were fixing them yourself. You never really liked the way the flower shops fixed them, so you usually fixed them yourself, yellow flowers and lavenders. As if you were trying to say something more. As if saying, Valerie apologizes to Will. Which, funnily enough, she had. 

It was funny, yellow flowers usually meant happiness, joy. Friendship. And they had quite the opposite meaning when it came to you and Tom. And then you had the lavenders, meaning calmness. As if you tried to soothe Tom. 

You hadn’t tried to reach out for Harry. He wouldn’t answer. But you had tried to reach out to Emma. She didn’t answer. Sam barely answered. He’d at least tell you that right now it wasn’t a good time and that he would make sure Tom and Harry would talk, eventually. 

Timmy did. Timmy was trying to make sure you were alright. He didn’t tell you anything about Emma, no matter how much you asked. 

You hadn’t tried to reach out Tom. You wanted to, but you never could hit send. You knew a text wouldn’t fix this. You wondered if he would hover over your name too. You wondered if he expected you to call, and if you did, would he answer? 

And was he okay? 

Because you knew that it would be delicate to try and do it. Would it hurt more if he answered? Did you even want to answer? 

Did he miss you? Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Did he want the same thing you did? Because all you could wish for was for this to disappear, only for a few minutes, only to hug him. Would he want that? Pause everything just so you could hold him? 

And Harry? Your best friend, he wasn’t there. Nobody wanted to see you now. And you knew it, probably nobody wanted to know about you. Because you were the bad one. 

You wanted to pretend for a bit, imagine that Tom was still yours. You didn’t want to eat, you didn’t want to sleep. You had gone out, once. To see how the world was still spinning, nobody had stopped. 

And nobody had reached out for you. 

You didn’t want to go to sleep because you’d be waking up alone. Your clothes were all stained now, with him. With him. Fuck, your room was horrible. It only reminded you of what you had lost. Harry, Tom, Timmy.

You only wanted some company. Maybe you didn’t want to be lonely. Though you deserved it, you didn’t. You just wanted a little love, because there was still so much love left. You hadn’t lived enough. 

You needed Harry, you needed Tom. 

God, you needed Harry. 

But you knew you had to let them go. In your cold room, you didn’t want to see it. Not anymore. Because it only reminded you of what you’d done. 

And you had bought what seemed a million flowers, one, two, three, hundred of bouquets, of arrangements. But they didn’t look pretty. You couldn’t give that to him.  They didn’t scream that you loved him. Lavender and yellow flowers. You didn’t know what you were trying to say. 

Except you did: ‘Love me, Tom’. 

And what about Harry? How on earth were you going to apologize? He was your best friend. And now he knew. He knew that you had loved him. But he was not supposed to ever know, because you’d lose him. And losing him would be the worst thing you could think of. 

You could lose Tom. But not Harry. Never Harry. Because that would mean you’d die slowly, alone. And you thought about it, how this had ended with just a stupid script. And why the hell had you written that? 

Couldn’t Valerie just be a bloody dancer? But you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t felt that. You just couldn’t ignore your feelings. 

And your room, your room gave it all the signs. 

You had been absent. Disappeared from the world. Social media, at least. You couldn’t stomach seeing anything. 

James made sure to bring you food, every now and then. Tea. Pancakes. But you didn’t want them anymore. 

You stared at the flowers, you stared at the box. The pathetic excuse you had. But you knew you had to do this, Tom wouldn’t want to see you now. 

Did you want to see him? Because this had only proven that you would hurt him. You’d both eventually hurt each other again. 

But it hurt, and there was that pain across your chest again. Especially since he had said he “pretend to love you.” 

You didn’t want to be lonely, so you had called Charlie and Danielle, they had brought ice cream. That’s what you needed, but it had been awful, their confession hadn’t exactly been what you needed this time. You had spent that day with them, listening to Charlie and his shade, Danielle being dumb. 

“That day of your interview,” Charlie had said. “We kind of told Tom the same thing we did to you.” 

“What did you tell him?” 

“About the tension you guys had,” Danielle said, “that he—“

“We were joking, as we usually do, we told him it’d take him no less than two beers to finally end up with your tension. We kind of said.. You know, the whole ‘Id bet you that if you tried to, you could’, you know? that he could take you to bed—I was joking—And then that night we headed to the bar—and he was flirting with you, as if he tried to prove a point to us,” Charlie explained.  

And that’s how it had started because they had put the idea to get him to get you to bed. It wasn’t even his own original thought. 

And to bloody think that this was all because Charlie and Danielle were fucking joking? Because they had put the thought in both of you? Fucking hell. 

Of course, you were hurt. But you were no better, and even if—you didn’t know how to feel about it. But even if the first time had been for a stupid joke or bet or whatever, that didn’t cancel out what you’d done. 

But he said he pretended to love you. But you didn’t believe him. Or did you? 

If he didn’t love you. Then why the hell were you going to fight for him? You hadn’t accepted it. You had denied this. You didn’t want this. In your mind, Tom had loved you. He had to love you. Because if not, then why the hell had all of this happened? 

You didn’t want to say anything. 

You couldn’t sleep because he’d be in your dreams. Flashbacks of good scenes. The moon, the stars, the sun. Nothing was bright. It would be, someday. But not today, not soon. 

You missed his touch, his lips, his skin. You missed him. And you regretted it. The tears were the only story you wanted to write now. Because he was going to be gone for good. 

You arranged the flowers yet again and then you heard someone at your door. Was it Tom? You ran to the door, expecting to see him.

What would you say to him? That you had more pages? That you’d written more pages even when this was over? That you wanted to lay down by his side just one more time. To make sure he was alright. Just to be with him. 

That you wanted to be with him only one more night. Because it had all ended so quickly. 

And you’d tell him that this was the worst thing you’d done. That you missed him like hell. That you’d take care of him. 

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t Tom. 

“Hi, I  came because I know that you’re probably shutting everyone out so—“Timmy said. You definitely weren’t expecting him. “I just needed to check on you.” 

Your heart warmed up. He cared. You let him in as you saw he had some supermarket bags. 

You couldn’t believe it was him. 

“Thank you, Tim.”

“I brought you these, actual food because if I know you—You’ve been eating takeout haven’t you?” 

“Thank you, how much do I owe you?” 

It was weird, how even after everything. After you broke his heart, he was there, to take care of you. 

How did he not let you be lonely? 

Your apartment was a mess. With Polaroids scattered on the floor, flowers here and there, an open box. Clothes hanging around. A story. Your tears, your sorrow. 

“What’s all this?” He asked, and then looked at the flowers. “He sent these to you?” 

You shook your head. “No, I’m giving them to him.” 

“You made the arrangement, didn’t you?” He asked. “That’s why they look pretty.” 

“Aren’t you angry?” 

You watched Tim go to your kitchen, you followed after him. 

“A bit,” he said calmly. “But You can’t have yet someone else angry at you. “ 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said. “So, what are the flowers for?”

“I’m going to apologize.” 

“After what he did?” He asked as he took out the groceries he’d bought. He. “You need to apologize?” Tim shook his head. “No, yn— He is a monster.”

“He is not, Tim, he made a mistake—“

“What he did to Emma—?” Timmy snapped. You knew this wasn’t about you, Tim wasn’t even angry at Tom for you. This was Timmy protecting Emma.

“I know, I know, Emma happened to be the unfortunate casualty in this war and I’m sorry—And I really am sorry.” 

He sighed, as he opened the fridge, he raised his brows as he saw the takeouts, cold pizza, and instead placed the food he had bought. 

“Casualty. As if this was a war.” 

“Wasn’t it?” You frowned. 

Timmy turned to you. “No, y/n, that’s your problem, if you walked into a relationship thinking it was a war no wonder you both fired shots.” 

You stayed quiet. He was right. 

Why had you walked in as if this was a war? If you loved Tom, why had this been a war?

He clenched his jaw, as he leaned against the counter. He looked back at the living room, seeing the whole mess. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m trying to fix everything, okay?” You sighed. “And everyone—I understand where he is coming from. I know. I made a horrible thing, and I hurt him—And now, he is alone and I don’t want him to be. He got drunk. And I don’t want anyone to hurt him—“

Timmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Y/N why—“

“Because this is my fault, okay?” You snapped. “And I—And I hurt him and I can’t hurt someone I love.” 

“I don’t understand,” Timmy admitted. He sighed, “you’re still in love with him,” he stated. “After that?”

“He was drunk, I—I did something very shitty, Tim.”

Timmy sighed. “Still—“

“I wrote a script basing it on this whole love—triangle or whatever it is—okay? He thinks I don’t love him, he didn’t read it. He thought I was dating him only because of the script where I wrote that I was technically fucking dating him to hurt him, a script where I called him a monster, a script in which—I said I dated him only to get revenge.” 

Timmy watched you. “Oh.” 

You chuckled. “I’m so stupid.” 

“Can I read it?” 

You hugged yourself. “I don’t know.” 

Tim nodded. “You wrote about me, too?” 

You had. You knew he wouldn’t be mad. You had written such beautiful things about him. But mostly, It was confusing. About how you regretted saying no, because maybe if he had waited you’d probably’ve said yes. If he had waited just a little bit longer. But not now. Sure, you loved Timmy. Like an old friend, like an old lover. Feelings are never really gone, you know? They transform. But—you wanted to be with Tom. Though it seemed impossible now. 

“If I read it, would I be angry?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. Hurt, maybe. Confused, absolutely. But not angry. 

“You wrote about Harry, from what I could tell,” he pointed out. “Do you love Harry?” 

You took a deep breath. “He is my best friend,” you said. “You know it, I did have… feelings for a bit, but it’s like… When you said you had a crush on Emma, when you were younger.” 

Timmy nodded. “Yeah, it’s easy to confuse friendship with something else,” he agreed. “Tom didn’t know about Harry?” 

You shrugged. “I thought he did, I thought everyone did,” you nodded. “I didn’t hide it. I think that’s—that’s I don’t know. Look, he—He believes I never loved him.”

Timmy laughed. “Is he fucking blind?” 

You chuckled. “I don’t blame him, the script—what I wrote was very very very cruel at the beginning.” 

“Really?” He asked before going back to the freezer, he saw two pints of ice cream, he took them out, as well as two spoons, handing you one over. 

“I initially started writing the script because I wanted to take revenge, that’s what the script says and that’s what I did.” 

You stared at the ice cream, as you opened it.

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t know what I was planning to do. Break his heart—guess I’ve got that covered.” 

“But?” 

“But the script also explained a lot of things, my feelings for you and my feelings for Harry,” you took a spoonful of the ice cream. 

“And?” 

“And the script talks about my feelings about me—always choosing Tom no matter what.” 

Timmy gulped. “Right.” He gulped. “Which really, I don’t know why.” 

You shrugged. “The heart is stupid.” 

He nodded. “Stubborn, stupid, irrational,” he admitted.

You bit your lip. “How’s Emma doing?” 

Timmy gulped. “Yeah she’s — she’s not well.” He admitted. 

“She doesn’t like me now, does she?” You asked. 

Timmy bit his lip, staring at his ice cream. “Well, she always knew Harry did have something for you.” 

“You told her?” You asked. 

“No, never but, c’mon, it was obvious.” 

And it was. 

“And of course she doesn’t particularly like you right now, but she says that this isn’t really your fault, I mean,” he sighed. “Let’s say...Tom is on her list.” 

“Yeah, everyone’s list right now.” 

Timmy raised his brows. “He has a talent for fucking up.” 

You sighed. “Tell me about it, he learned from me.” 

He looked up and gave you a sad smile. “But you love him.” 

You took another spoonful of ice cream. “I do.” 

“Yikes.” 

You punched him on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Shut up.” 

You stayed quiet for a bit, wondering why he had come here. He wasn’t trying to win you back, or was he? Was he going to try to take advantage of the situation? 

“Why are you here?” You asked him. 

He looked up. “Because I know everyone is taking care of Emma, of Harry, even of Tom, but no one seemed to see if you were okay.” 

“But I’m the bad guy,” you said. 

He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you deserve to be lonely.” 

“But maybe I do, I was the one to fuck up.” 

“Not really, well-- Not completely, I mean you did fuck up,” He agreed. “But he could’ve waited just not to fuck up his brother’s engagement.” 

You sighed. “Are they still engaged?” 

Timmy bit his lip. 

“Because it’s not Harry’s fault,” you said. “Harry deserves to be happy, Emma deserves to be happy.” 

“Dunno, Emma believes something happened with you and Harry,” Tim said. “And though I’ve tried to explain to her that even if something had happened, it would have been before they even met well but...She’s… I don’t blame her, Harry has been…” 

“Harry?” 

Tim sighed. “Harry has been quiet, absent.”

“He’s probably angry, hurt, at Tom,” you said. 

“Emma says she wants to give the ring back—”Timmy sighed. “You could give her advice on that.” 

You glared at him. “Tim.” 

He laughed. “I’m trying to make you laugh.” 

That made you smile. 

“What would you do?” You asked eventually after you’d both stayed quiet for a while, just eating ice cream. 

“Hm?” 

“If you were in my place,” you pushed. 

He sighed. “I’d… I honestly don't know.” He watched you. “I don’t know how bad the script is, so I don’t know, I mean.” 

You bit your lip, and you walked to the living room, you stared at the pictures, the lipsticks, everything. Tim followed after, watching you as you sat on the floor. He sighed as he left to your room, he brought back your frog and then handed it over. 

“You know, y/n, I’ve seen everything in this world, and then there’s you.” 

You chuckled. “I’m a fucking mess.” 

Tim sighed, sitting down on the floor with you. “Yeah.” 

Timothée took a deep breath. “What’s your plan?” 

You shook your head, “No, Tim, you don’t have to,” you sighed. 

“Look, who else is going to help you?” He shrugged. 

You watched him. “Timmy.” 

He shrugged. “Look, I’m not…” He coughed. “Though it hurts, and if you… If he’s that stupid that you have to do a… What are you doing a... collage?” 

You chuckled. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I might as well help you,” he shrugged. “If that makes you happy.” 

And you knew Tim, he really wasn’t trying to pull a stunt right now. He knew you, after all, he’d met you in a dark time, and he knew how much you hated to be lonely. He was there because he meant it, to keep you company. He cooked for you, he stayed there making sure you were okay, and he made sure he made you smile. 

The next day, you were ready. Timmy hadn’t really helped you with it, he had just kept you company. And then he had left. 

And you’d stayed up all night, trying to figure it out. You had the flowers, you had the box. The last pages of your script. How could you prove to Tom you loved him? That it had been him. That it was him. That you were thankful he’d gone to Rome, even if you didn’t know why. That you were thankful after prom, that you had loved New York and every single kiss. That you hadn’t meant this.

You had the last pages of your script. You printed them. But still, this… You sighed, memories. 

Memories. 

You opened your laptop, maybe you did have the answer all along. 

And so, with little hope and only with a half-apology, you went to search for Tom, with flowers, with a box full of polaroids,  and with more things that would probably explain it to him that it was him. 

You saw it, his car was there; but, were you ready to see him? You carried the flower arrangement you’d made him. Changing the story. Now it was you with yellow flowers, and with lavenders. 

He didn’t open the door. 

“Harrison.” 

And he seemed angry. He probably hadn’t expected you there. He sighed, “I don’t think you should be here y/n.” 

“But I should,” you said. “Let me... I need to explain it to him, I don’t care, look, the last time he didn’t talk to me, and look what happened.” 

Haz shook his head. “He’s not here.” He tried to close the door. 

“Haz I won’t buy that.” The flowers were heavy. 

“I swear, he’s not here,” he continued. “Don’t know where he went.” 

You looked at the car.

“Think he went out for a walk, you can check his room if you don’t believe it.” 

You gulped. “I… can I drop this here, at least?” 

Harrison stared at the flowers. “Yellow and lilac flowers?” 

“Yes, please, Harrison, I really need to explain myself,” you said.

He hesitated, and you didn’t blame him. You knew Tom probably had told Haz what he’d read, and if someone had written something like that of Harry, you’d hate them too. 

“Fine,” he eventually said and he took the flowers from you. 

“And… I brought a box, too,” you said. 

“I... I’ll help you with it,” Haz said with pity. You sighed as you headed to the car. You had a few pages too. An envelope. You didn’t even know why you were doing this.

“You.. you can come in,” Haz said. He offered you some water and you could tell he probably pitied your state, you looked like a mess. 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“An explanation,” you said. “It’s got a script, and…” You gulped. “I don’t even know. I know he won’t see me.” 

Haz nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Have they...Talked? Harry and him?” You said. The worst you could think of this was rining a brother’s relationship. Especially their relationship. 

Harrison sighed. “Everyone hates Tom right now.” 

“And they shouldn’t,” you said. 

Haz scrunched his nose as if he didn’t agree, not completely. 

“Look,” Haz sighed. “I don’t think he’s to blame,” he started. “I…” 

“Did he tell you about it?” 

“Yeah,” he gulped. “And that was… You really fucked up, y/n, but I… I don’t know you that well, but I could tell you guys were in love… It’s no secret that you were in love with him, and look I understand, he hurt you, for a while but getting revenge?” 

“It did start like that,” you confessed. “But, while it started like that I never… I never believed he’d love me, you know? I never fully believed that that’s maybe why I wrote some things because I was too scared, and in a way, I was conning myself, into tricking myself I would be getting revenge when in reality it was just me actually trying, you really think I would’ve slept with him in the first place if I didn’t initially have some kind of attraction? It was a script, sure, it was a story, but I think I was telling myself that just so I could enjoy it, you know? Because he’s…It’s him, I was making myself believe I didn’t love him because I always feared he’d break me again, and… and, before you say anything, I know, I know, it’s fucked up, and I’m not trying to justify myself, but I… That’s the Tom I knew, you know? The guy who’ll use my words as his weapon, which he... Technically did end up doing, I told him that I didn’t want to be lonely, and he said I deserved it. I wrote in that script that what I’d fear the most with him is that it was like last time, when he only pretended to love me, and he said it again, how he was pretending,” you gulped as you rested your face against your fist. “And maybe I did it because it was a way to shield myself?” You paused. 

Haz was quiet. 

“My heart was so broken that it built up walls around them, and I guess I wanted to give it another chance, because it’s him, it’s always him, no matter how bad he hurt me before I still wanted to give it a chance, and maybe that’s the script, the shield I’d use for myself, initially, to say that it was only for a story if he was the one to hurt me. To say that it was the only perfidy if he hurt me. But I didn’t want to hurt him,” you stared at the glass of water. “And I get it, I was building a weapon because I thought this was a war, and it shouldn’t have been one. He’s not an enemy. He is the guy I’ve been in love with my whole life.” 

Harrison kept quiet, longer. Then he stared at the envelope. “Does it say that in there?” 

“Yes, and a lot of things more,” you cleared your throat. “Because he… I understand he’s hurt but saying I’ve never loved him,” you bit your lip. “He can be mad at me for everything else, but saying I’ve never loved him, that’s just…” 

“What about Harry?” 

You bit your lip. “Why does it matter if I had feelings for Harry at some point?” 

“He always knew Harry was in love with you,” He explained. “I… I know the reason behind everything.” 

“There is a reason, then?” You scoffed. 

“He knew it, and he knew that the worst thing he’s ever done is what he did to you,” Haz said. “And now I know. After that club night, right? When you were back from Rome, you started dating, and that night he broke your heart.” 

“Yes,” you nodded. “And then he said he was only dating me as a prank, he said that he’d never date someone like me.” 

“He did it because he always feared this, I’m not trying to justify him” he explained. “But he said it. How you were supposed to be in love with Harry, and how he was always watching you both, happily. But you always chose Tom.” 

“I did.” 

“But he feared you’d realize it one day, that you and Harry were… more suited for each other, and that Harry was the good guy, Harry was the nice guy, and so he, in his stupid attempt to make you fall in love with Harry, he kept pushing you away, and he felt guilty.” 

“Why did he go to Rome, then?” You frowned. “None of that would’ve happened if he hadn’t gone to Rome.” 

“I don’t know why he did,” Haz confessed. “But he felt guilty, because you had feelings for Harry, and he took it away, and he felt… guilty, because if he hadn’t gone to Rome, what would’ve happened with Harry?” 

“But you can’t live with ‘what if’s,” you pushed. “And… even if… He hadn’t come... I don’t think Harry and I could ever..” 

“How do you know that?” Harrison asked. 

“Harrison.” 

“Look, y/n, I’m just asking this to give you time to think for an answer, if Tom does talk to you, I know he’d ask this.” 

You looked away. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s what’s bothering Tom,” Harrison explained. “That he feels like he took away his brother's happiness.” 

“And he did anyway, I’m not Harry’s happiness, it’s Emma, even after everything, it wouldn’t matter because Harry was supposed to marry Emma,” you frowned. 

Haz nodded. “I know that. Harry is over you, but Tom… I think deep inside he did it because he wanted to give you and Harry a second chance.” 

“That’s bullshit,” you snapped, then shook your head. “Sorry, this isn’t with you.” 

“No, I know, and you’re right, but… I don’t think Tom came from a bad place, he’s willing to give you up.” 

“But I love him,” you whimpered. “I love him, I love Tom and I… It’s him.” 

Harrison sighed. “I know y/n, I’m just trying to make you understand it.” 

You bit your lip. “I’m… I’m leaving.”

“Tom will soon be back from his walk, don’t you want to wait?” He asked. 

“I need to… Process this, but please, make sure he reads it, and that he watches it,” you sighed. “No, wait…Can I go to his room?” 

Haz hesitated again, closing his eyes. “I… Yeah, what for?” 

You took out an old DVD from the envelope. “To put this on.” 

You went to his room, you knew he still had an old DVD, for movies he knew weren’t on platforms, and you knew he liked the DVDs. His room felt cold, too. Messy. You could tell he wasn’t okay. You put the DVD on and paused it. You really hoped he’d press play when he was back. You left the box in his room and then left the envelope on his nightstand. 

You said goodbye to Harrison and left to be alone with your thoughts again. The only thing you liked about loneliness was it gave you time to think, to process this. You could go to the park and not be bothered, and you could drive hours and hours, and nobody would call expecting you to go anywhere. It could give you some sense to bring answers, though the traffic lights never told you anything. No answers. Nobody would have the answer. 

And you knew it, you wouldn’t get any answers, and you knew Tom probably wouldn’t forgive you, but at least you needed him to know. He deserved to know. 

And you knew what would come, you’d be staring at windows, you’d write but you wouldn’t like it. You knew it, it was coming, what you feared the most. The nights wouldn’t come and if they did, you wouldn’t sleep. Faces would remind you of him but it would never be him again. 

You saw it coming. Wanting to get rid of clothes you’d worn with him, and clothes he had taken off. Wanting a new skin because he’d kissed every spot, and the lipsticks because you’d stained his body with them. It was as if your body was full of scars, of tattoos of his kisses that were now removed. And now you couldn’t listen to those songs, you wouldn’t want to watch another movie with New York. You’d never buy the same wine again. Nothing. 

You’d have to get rid of that perfume. And nothing made sense. And you’d have to pretend you were fine, because what would you win by letting the world you’d fucked up? 

You had to start again. 

You needed a new body , a new soul a new heart because this would hurt all the time. Your pride, your love, your feelings.  

Because Tom had said you didn’t love him. Yes, you had played your own part in this. But it was too late now. Because he didn’t get it. Tom had forced you to find love somewhere else. Did he not see it? That you had been so broken that you had turned to the only light you had. 

But then—what about Harry? Because you couldn’t say you never felt anything. And you couldn’t say that you hadn’t stopped yourself because you had feared you’d lose him. Because losing Harry, that you couldn’t afford. 

But you were thinking about it, the ‘what if’. You couldn’t live there, not dwelling with the past. 

Because with Harry it was too late, now. It had been for a while. And now he probably would be gone. And you didn’t have him there to hug you, to tell you all of this would be right. He wouldn’t be there now. 

But there was someone else who deserved an explanation. You called him. 

“I was going to ask why the hell you asked me here, but--” Harry had arrived at the park. And he wasn’t late, he had come. He had answered. He had come. 

You were sitting at that park bench, you stood up as you saw him. He was a mess, too. Seemed like everyone was still recovering from the battle. You ran out of breath as you saw him, you didn’t know why your arms immediately wrapped around him in a hug, he hesitated but hugged you back, strongly. 

He let you go. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Why am I here?” He asked. 

“I needed to give you this,” you said as you took it out. The printed script. 

He gulped, staring at it, knowing exactly what it was. “I need to—I need an explanation.” 

You nodded. “You deserve one.” 

He coughed. “Yes I fucking deserve a bloody explanation y/n,” he lamented, he walked away from you “I can’t—I didn’t even have feelings for you anymore.” 

That was what you didn’t want to hear. He couldn’t have feelings for you again. “Harry I’m—” 

“No, no, y/n, right now,” He took a deep breath. “You didn’t call. You didn’t call me, or Tom or… Nobody, I need you to listen to me right now, and then I need you to answer my questions because I can’t… God, I love Emma.” 

That was a relief. He loved Emma. 

“This was all so bloody happy, I was happy, I was okay, I was happy, but it was too good,” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Too perfect. Wasn’t it?” He asked, to the sky, not to you. “I just couldn’t be this happy, too good to be true. Innit?” You saw him playing with his tongue, probably licking all his inner cheeks. “But I don’t—Y/N, I can’t—I can’t get married right now. Emma is not speaking to me,” he gulped. “I mean I haven’t really…”He sat on the bench where you had once sat. 

A very nice park for the awful conversation you were having. 

You didn’t know what to say now. 

He rested his face against his hands, he was stressed. His foot kept tapping. “I…” He gulped as he looked up, then he avoided your gaze. “I spent my whole life loving you. All my life, I’ve—I’ve been there.” 

This was the first time you’ve heard him say it. He had never said it before. Not what this meant. 

“And look, I was bloody fine with you choosing Tom, okay?” He looked up at you. He blew his cheeks. “Every. Single. Bloody time,” he snorted. “And I had to suck up my feelings you know? Never say anything and then—” He licked his lips. “why is this happening? Why did you have to say it now?” He asked you, now staring at you. “Fuck, you didn’t even say it, that’s just it, makes it even worse, right?” He frowned. He let out a long, loud sigh. “You wanted to keep that, or maybe you didn’t, because... “ He looked down at the script. “You wrote it didn’t you, and it’d be out there for the world to know, and you’re giving it to me now, meaning that you want me to know.” 

“I want to fix this, okay? I want to bloody fix this! I can’t—-lYou gulped. But he didn’t understand this. But maybe he was right, were you jeopardizing his happiness with this, too? 

“I don’t even have feelings for you,” he stated. “But now I’ll always have that bloody thought in the back of my head, what would’ve happened? The fucking ‘what if’.” 

“Harry. I know. I bloody know—But I cant fucking—“

“No, no, listen y/n. I—I did a lot of things for you, okay?” He closed his eyes. “I spent my entire life trying to—I don’t even know, I changed myself for you,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, he stood up and paced around the bench, then rested his hands against it. “I’ve loved you since we were kids,” he whispered. “And I had to see you—And it hurt,” he paused. “And it hurt so much, that I had to—I can’t—I couldn’t help it,” he shook his head. “I tried to stop my feelings and they were never gone,” he pursed his lips. “And I kept them to myself as I could, knowing that I’d rather never have you love me back than to lose you forever,” he admitted. 

“You think I didn’t fear losing you, too? That’s why I’m here! Because I can’t afford losing you!” You didn’t know what to say to him, because it hurt. Because it hurt that you had hurt him. But you knew that every time that you had tried to love him, you’d go back to Tom, and you’d keep going back. 

“And now—And you know, then along came Emma,” he smiled sadly. “And I didn’t have to do anything,” he explained. “I didn’t have to change, I didn’t have to beg for her love and I loved her,” he stood back up, crossing his arms. “And I love her truly and deeply, and—And now she believes I’ll give up everything for you,” he sounded exasperated. “And—And, I won’t… But there’s still that voice in my head saying I will. Why the hell do I think I’ll do that too?”

“Harry, no, Emma is the right choice, please,” you pleaded. “Let’s—Lets.” 

“I know she is, and I don’t want to give her up, I don’t want to,” he ran a hand through his hair. “But there’s a part of me that knows I will always come back to you.” 

“Harry,” you couldn’t say anything, no words were coming out. You couldn’t even know what to think of this. “You are supposed to be with Emma. This is—“ 

“But was Tom telling the truth? I—I—is it true?” He asked. “I don’t even know if it’s true.” 

“What?” You were barely breathing now. 

“Did you…” He closed his eyes. “Did ever have feelings for me? And tell me the truth I don’t want any more secrets.” 

You didn’t answer right away. But he wanted the truth. “Yes, I did have feelings for you.” 

He held his head. “Don’t say that!” 

“You told me to—” 

“But… Why? Don’t say that! Not when I was supposed to marry her—When I am supposed to marry her.” 

“Well that’s what bloody happened! I’m not lying anymore! I don’t want to keep things because look where it fucking led—“

“And it’s not that I want to be with you,” he was talking faster now, nervously. “I got over you and it was—-So bloody hard at first,” he admitted. “Seeing you always crushing on Tom, always him which really—Why the hell do you love him when he—does that? He’s— awful.” 

“Don’t say that! He’s not awful,” you quickly defended Tom. Not sure why, Tom wouldn’t care if you defended him. “This was on me.” 

“But why--Fuck, why?” He plopped back on the bench. “No, but y/n, I just—I need a bigger explanation.” 

“It’s— what I’m bloody trying to—You think I brought that script for nothing?” 

He interrupted again. “You don’t understand y/n, how much it hurt and—to know you did have feelings for me.” 

“And you think I—“

“But… But!” He sounded crazy now. “I know those feelings are long gone,” he said, and nodded to himself. “Well, mine are. And we wouldn’t work.” 

“No we wouldn’t.” 

You waited for him to keep talking, knowing he was venting, and knowing he needed to clear it out. 

“I just need you to understand that this is—” He widened his eyes, and shook his head. “It’s… “ he blew a raspberry. “And I’m angry at you,” he said. “Because—It’s supposed to be Emma.” He said. “It’s not you. Even if I tried it for so long, it’s —supposed to be Emma. But you—you said I shouldn’t marry her.” 

You closed your eyes. “I did but it’s… A different situation, I said that as your friend, okay?” You lied. “I thought you weren’t bloody ready, but—That didn’t mean, I don’t even know why I said it okay? I was too confused that fucking day! I had just slept with Tom, and you bloody say it? That you want to get married? It was insane, Harry!”

He stayed silent for a while, staring at the script in his hands, he played with the paper. 

“Are you going to say anything?” You snapped. 

“When did you have feelings for me?” 

“Before Rome and—“

“And?” 

“Before Rome.” 

He bit his inner cheeks. “We never talked after that” 

“I know.” 

“Was there even a conversation to be had?” He scoffed. 

“I don’t know,” you scowled. “but there is one now, you need to be happy—“

“I can’t live like this, y/n,” he closed his eyes. “The fucking ‘what if’.” He sighed as he stood up. He took the script and then started to walk away. 

“Harry, no, wait—We are not done talking.” You followed after him, you couldn’t let him go away without an explanation.

But as he turned around, and before you could even continue saying anything, his hands had pulled your face and his lips hand landed on yours. 

IF YOU’RE GOING TO SEND AN ASK PLEASE REFER TO THAT ENDING AS ‘WATERMELON’ let’s not spoil it for everyone else  🍉

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist sequel name announcement

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[ao3feed-brucewayne]

i said hold my hand not break it

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JnWG8jm by isychia It’s clear that this is going to be an argument, not a lecture. An argument that Bruce is going to win, and will likely end in Dick fleeing to Bludhaven, and silent treatment that will last for a month. “I fucked up.” “You were sloppy”, Bruce growls, and it’s clear he’s holding back, arms tight against his sides. “You could have gotten Tim killed.” That isn’t exactly true; as it stands, Tim barely has a scratch on him, and Dick had actually gone out of his way to make sure Tim didn’t face the brunt of the blast. There were unforeseen circumstances that even Batman hadn’t accounted for. But Bruce has clearly considered a hundred different, gory scenarios during the journey home, all of which assuming Dick possesses absolutely no common sense, and all of which ended badly. It’s infuriating. * Dick Grayson’s Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Two Months, which snowballs into something far worse, whilst Bruce (as always) is clueless until it is Far Too Late. Words: 1703, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Thranduil's A+ Parenting, Depression, Eating Disorders, Bulimia, Tim Drake Tries to be a Good Sibling, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs Therapy, Dick Grayson is Not Okay, this is a sad one folks, strap in! read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JnWG8jm

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

[aperrywilliams]

The Right Moment (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist 

———————

Summary: Love confessions doesn't count in Spencer’s strengths. Don't you think?

Word Count: 5010.

Warnings: Curses… is so soft anyway. Fluff.

A/N: I’m so happy. This is my first fic with a beta, so y’all will not suffer with my all writing mistakes of before ones. All the love to the great @imagining-in-the-margins​

——————–

The first time I saw (Y/N), I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a few seconds. I could have counted the exact time, but I was so focused on looking at her that I only realized it when I was almost choking on my own breathlessness.

We were all in the conference room waiting for Prentiss to review a new case. She had already notified us a new member would be joining the team, which was a relief considering the amount of cases was getting quite heavy. Even just one more member could be of great help. When the two of them entered the room and Emily began to speak, I lifted my head from the file in front of me.

"Guys, this is the SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is joining our team since today. (Y/N), meet the SSA Luke Alvez, SSA Tara Lewis, SSA Jennifer Jareau, SSA David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid".

Everyone gave their welcome words except me, of course, given my edginess. I just nodded my head in greeting without saying a word. She waved back and quickly sat down to begin reviewing the case.

I couldn't say exactly what was the first thing about (Y/N) that I fell in love with. Perhaps it was her appearance as a determined woman, confident, intelligent, friendly, and very nice. She looked like those kinds of people who are able to fill a room with their mere presence. It wasn't long before my hypotheses about her were confirmed. Indeed, the entire team loved her immediately. She was the first person to say hello to Penelope in the mornings. She teased Luke as she passed by his desk, and bonded quickly and closely with JJ, Tara, and Emily. Rossi loved her too, especially at dinners at his house, where (Y/N) was always the first to compliment the chef.

And me? Well, it wasn't long until we became best friends. She was one of the few people who didn't bother or interrupt my ramblings. There were many times we had to make geographical profiles and visit crime scenes together; clearly not very romantic things. But the time we spent together was growing both inside and outside work. In our rare free time, we would go for a walk or watch a series sitting on the couch at her place or mine.

Those were the moments where I felt I fell more and more in love with her. For a long time, I tried to push those thoughts away by telling myself that it was something platonic, that it was the attraction of someone with a very different personality than mine. I tried to convince myself that eventually, the infatuation would pass and our friendship would persist. But seeing how the months passed and the feeling didn’t subside, I began to sink into despair within myself. I tried not to feed myself any hope.

(Y/N) was leading her life very well and I fit perfectly as the best friend – just that. Someone to trust and a shoulder to cry on. I tried to convince myself having her around was more than enough for me, even if there was no romantic interest from her.

"Do you know what it’s called? The Friendzone." Emily said to me one day after I had to confess my feelings towards (Y/N) to someone. A somewhat forced confession, since the whole team knew it already without me saying a word. It sure was printed on all my face.

"Whatever your name it, I’ll never get out of there". I replied with a shrug.

"But why don't you tell her? You should be honest with her about this, Spencer. You’re friends. You trust each other, right?" Emily inquired, trying to awaken some courage in me to express my feelings to the woman herself.

"Tell her? No, of course not. Our relationship would become weird. I don't want that.” I replied with a shake my head.

"How do you know if isn’t mutual? You two spend a lot of time together, and I've seen how you seeing each other. Maybe she also likes you." Emily was a very good FBI agent, but not the best cupid. There was no point in what she was saying to me. Friends can also spend a lot of time together. That doesn't mean anything.

"Of course it is not reciprocal! Two days ago, she told me she had a date with Tim Robertson from Organized Crime and she was 'excited.'” I emphasized the word ‘excited’ by making the quotes marks with my fingers.

"Uh-oh" she replied with that 'oh poor boy' look. “Spencer, eventually you’ll have to do something. Love is not going to disappear spontaneously.”

I only took a deep breath and drop the subject, but I kept thinking about Prentiss’ words. Was I meant to be the eternal friend? Statistics were not on my side: Studies show that if a man over 30 invites his female friend to dinner on a weekend, only 40% of women will likely consider it a date. But if the invitation is made by a non-friend male, the odds increase to 85%. If a woman is the one inviting her male friend, she is more likely he considered it as romantic date, because men are more frequently to consider everything as a date. Conclusion: I have no chance.

I felt more defeated when (Y/N) told me one day that she was now regularly dating Robertson. The boldest thing I asked her was if she liked him. She confessed to me it was ‘very likely.’

As the weeks passed, the cases came and were resolved. (Y/N) didn't spend as much time with me outside of work anymore. She had a formal relationship with the... guy... from Organized Crime. At this point not even the 'friendzone' comforted me, because I also felt I was losing my friend. What did that lead me to? Frustration. Anger. Introversion. Everything very Spencer Reid style.

One day flying back from a case, (Y/N) sat at the front of me and looked at me with concern, as I plunged into a book.

"Spencer, is something wrong?" she asked, leaning down and resting her hands on the table between us.

"Uhm? No. I'm fine." I replied, barely looking at her.

"Spencer, I know you..."

Oh, how I hate people think I’m an open book and everyone feel free to say they know me!... Even if they are right! For God’s sake!

"Are you upset with me?... You have barely spoken to me these days and we haven't sat down to talk for a long time..." She said, taking the book I had in my hands and laying it on the table. Thus, I was forced to look at her.

"No. I'm fine. Totally fine. And if we haven't talked for a long time, it's because you're apparently very busy…” My last comment wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, I see." I took my book again and opened it to resume my reading. "You’re jealous of my relationship with Robertson." She stated seriously.

What? Did she know it too? Had the pilot been told, too?

"No. Of course not. Where do you get that from? You can do whatever you please with your life…” I said with the greatest calm that my boiling blood running in my body allowed me.

“You're jealous because I don't spend time with you outside of work anymore. Spencer, honey, you’ll always be a priority for me. It's just I have less time now, you know? We're just starting something,  Tim and I. But I promise not to be one of those women glued to my partner all the time and neglecting my friends". (Y/N) ended her statement by gently stroking my hand over the book I was still holding. I felt relief and defeat at the same time. Clearly, it didn't feel better.

But (Y/N) was genuine to her word. Indeed, she looked for a way to adjust her time with him so we could return to some movie nights on the couch and occasional walks in the park. It felt good to at least fit into her life again. Of course, this had a flip side: knowing how her relationship with Tim Robertson worked, or not. The guy showed clear narcissistic features and although (Y/N) seemed to be aware of that - as the good profiler she was - her infatuation clouded her judgment. I couldn't blame her, either. I just tried to be gentle in my criticisms, but I saw how easily she dismissed them by always excusing him.

One night I was lying on the couch reading. It was close to 2 am when I heard two knocks on the door and a loud sob. I quickly got up to open the door and saw (Y/N) standing in front of me, crying. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms and cried harder.

"I knew you would be awake..." She murmured with her head buried in my chest. I helped her into the apartment and sat her on the couch.

"Hey, what happened?". I asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb her more than she already was.

"I broke up with Tim..."

And here I was, with my shoulder ready to contain her tears. (Y/N) clung to my neck sobbing and cursing at the same time. It wasn’t the first time I had to witness a love breakup from (Y/N). As I said before, I was her best friend, and that forced me to know things that I often didn't want to hear, but it was only fair. She also was there for me many times. I had also cried on her shoulder and cursed - a bit - at situations that overwhelmed me.

I tried to comfort her by hugging and stroking her back. The sobs subsided over time, and eventually she fell asleep. I tucked some pillows under her head and covered with a blanket. I sat for a moment to watch her while she slept. I would have done anything not to see her this sad. She didn't deserve to be hurt by an idiot like Robertson. She deserved someone who truly loved her, unconditionally. Someone she could trust, who could be always there for her, who made her laugh and comforted her when she was sad.

She needed someone... like me?

I know, it sounds not so humble. But I would be all that for her and more if necessary. Maybe Prentiss was right. Maybe I should be honest and tell her about my feelings. At least I could know if I'd ever have a chance. Well, I would have to try. Here the results.

First Attempt

The next morning I woke up smelling a pleasant scent from the kitchen: freshly brewed coffee. I got up, rubbing my eyes before I saw (Y/N) making breakfast.

"Good Morning. Breakfast is ready!” She gave me a warm smile.

"Hey... you didn't have to bother with breakfast." I replied in a raspy voice due to the disuse as I slept. "How do you feel?" I hastened to ask.

"Like I broke up with my boyfriend. But it's okay. It'll okay.” (Y/N) said, giving a deep sigh. I approached the counter where she was while she passed me two plates ready with pancakes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, placing the plates on the table and sitting in one of the chairs. She got two mugs with coffee and sat across from me.

"The usual; men who end up being assholes. The initial spark’s gone. The end.” She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "You know my taste in men follows an evident pattern, right?" (Y/N) stated with a sad smile.

"Maybe you need to double check your parameters and change it..." I said, testing the waters before I dove in. I didn't know what kind of reaction to expect, but she burst out laughing.

"I've thought about it – don't think I don’t. But bad habits are persistent.” She answered me as she cut her pancakes before popping a piece in her mouth.

"You could try at least..." Bringing out a confidence I thought I didn't have, I dared to take her hand over the table. She looked at me curiously.

"Do you think so? I honestly think I’m meant to be a total failure in love, always.” She told me with a grimace.

“I think you need a guy who understands you. A guy that’s there for you when you need him. Someone you can trust…” I didn’t know whether to persist with the description so as not to sound... too self-referential?

“But that's what I have you for, Spence. You are all that to me. That's why you are my best friend.” She said, squeezing my hand and smiling at me. I held my breath for a second and tried to continue.

"Perhaps... I could be more than that, more than a just..." I couldn't finish my idea because our phones started ringing. We had a case. End of conversation.

Fate: 1, Reid: 0.

Second Attempt

After a hard case that had us seconds from emotional overflow, Penelope had the wonderful idea we should go to a bar to 'drown' our frustrations. Hanging out with the team is always a good thing, although the idea of a bar never seemed entirely appealing to me.

Of course, I usually ended up being the designated driver since my alcohol consumption was minimal or nil. That night was no exception. Sitting with Rossi and Luke, I heard them talk about their love experiences as I watched the dance floor where Emily, Penelope, Tara and (Y/N), with high levels of alcohol in their blood, danced as if the world were to end in that moment. Rossi and Luke’s voices sounded distant to me. I could only focus on how (Y/N) moved on the dance floor and how I wished I could touch her... and kiss her... and...

"Reid? Reid!" Luke's voice brought me out of my fantasy. Not even in my own mind could I have in peace! Not even a single damn fantasy with (Y/N).

"Uhm?" I replied by inertia.

"I was asking you if you agreed with what Rossi said..." He asked. I wasn't even listening.

"Eh. Yeah. Sure. He has more experience… in everything.” I guess that answer was enough for the moment. "I'm going to get something else to drink". I said, getting up and walking to the bar. On my way I looked again to (Y/N), who kept dancing sensually with the others.

My emotional and sexual frustration by now was killing me. I gestured to the bartender for another soda. Focused on my own misery I didn't realize when (Y/N) gave me a gentle knock in the ribs with an elbow.

“Hey Reid! Don't tell me you're going to drink alcohol…”. (Y/N) joked.

"No, just a soda. You know I'm the designated driver today…” I replied as I nervously tapped the surface of the bar with my fingers. (Y/N) in her obviously drunken state suddenly hung her arms around my neck.

“Sorry Reid, always… always… you end up being our watchman. You can't even have some funnnnn…” She sighed, resting her head on my chest.

"It's okay. Seeing you all drunk to the bone can also be some fun.”. I replied, daring to take her waist to prevent her from slipping to the floor. She sighed again.

"I think... I don't feel okay... oh my… I'm feeling drowned… Spencer, I feel sick… I’m very dizzy … I feel like… ”

"Come, let's go out for some air. That’ll make you feel better."

We left through one of the back doors of the bar. Once outside, the fresh air made (Y/N) feel somewhat more restored. "Better?" I asked her.

"Yeah… I guess. But despite how drunk I’m… because I know… I’m soooo drunk… It isn’t pleasant to see that couple fucking on that wall...".I looked in the direction of her finger pointing a wall and the couple there didn't even bother acknowledging our presence. I must say some envy awoke in me. I took (Y/N)'s hand and led her further away from the alley before I pointed to the sidewalk and we sat down.

"Now we don't have to look at them." I told her. (Y/N) nodded. Breathing more coolly, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks Spencer. I don't know why you have such patience with me…” Oh boy. The emotional moment of (Y/N). Despite that, my love didn’t give up even a single millimeter.

"You don’t have to thank me. That's why we’re… friends, right?” I replied, barely outlining a smile.

"Yes. But… I don't know… you are always beyond that… I feel like I don't deserve you Spencer…” Her sobs began to mix with hiccups.

“For you (Y/N), I’ll do everything I can. Always”. I said it in a sincere tone. I never expected after having said that, that she would throw herself towards me and start kissing me. After the initial stun, my head began to wonder if that was okay.

Her drunken state told me that it was wrong, but it felt so good to have her lips on mine - ignoring the smell of alcohol, of course. It only lasted a few seconds. She pulled away quickly, as if a wave of sobriety hit her abruptly.

"Sorry! ... Spencer, I’m sorry!... I didn't want..." She started to stutter and cry at the same time.

"Hey, no... don't apologize. It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.

"I don’t know what happened... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable..." She kept stammering, hiccupping and waving her hands in the air.

"It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t feel uncomfortable... Matter of fact, it’s the opposite." I was going to tell her; I couldn't take it anymore.

"No?..." Her confused face in another context would have made me laugh, but in that moment I was too busy being nervousing about confessing my love to a drunk woman.

"Well…". I took her hands and started stroking them gently. "For a long time I wanted to tell you... and I know we are friends, but I would like..." I had to clear my throat again. "What I mean (Y/N), is I love..."

Unable to finish the sentence, (Y/N) suddenly leaned into my lap, letting out an explosive puke on me. A second followed... and then a third.

The next day all she remembered was the dance floor, and the fact she emptied her stomach on me.

Third Attempt

I hate cases where unsubs try to escape. That always means a chase, and dramatically increases the probability of someone getting hurt. It was in Alabama, and the unsub had hidden himself in a barn. (Y/N) and I stepped in with our flashlights and weapons in search of him. J.J. and Luke were in the backup group.

What we didn’t expect was the bastard climbing onto an attic with his gun pointed at us. When I lit up his face with my flashlight and pointed at him with my gun, I only managed to shout "Stop! FBI!” before I heard a shot in my direction.

I felt a burning and intense pain near my face before falling to the floor. With another shot, (Y/N) struck him in the chest and the unsub fell to the floor.

Oh God, my body hurt a lot. I felt the blood run down my shoulder. The bastard had shot me in the neck! I was going to die in a filthy barn and without having ever declared my love to (Y/N). She quickly knelt down and tried to locate the source of the blood, pressing her hand to my wound.

"We need medics here!" She yelled frantically. I felt dizzy, and (Y/N)’s voice was further and further away.

Was I really going to die there? At least if that was going to happen, I had to tell her. "(Y/N) ..." I said to get her attention.

“No, no… no… don't speak Spencer, keep your eyes open, but don't speak. The paramedics are coming. Come on, squeeze my hand!"

"I have to tell...".I tried to speak but between the dizziness and the pain, I had trouble articulating words.

"Spencer, please. Listen to me. You're going to be fine… everything will be okay.” She tried to reassure me.

"I... love you..." I managed to say, trying to look her in the eye. She looked at me tenderly.

I said it! I said it! I could die in peace now, couldn’t I?

"Spencer, honey..." She said while stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and the paramedics came to check me. One of them asked (Y/N) what happened and how I was doing. She summed up the incident and finished off by saying between sobs, “Please do something. He is dying. He even started to rave."

Fuck!

Then I fell passed out and I don't remember anything else.

The Summary

I could keep on listing the times when I tried to tell her. None of them seemed to be the right moment. And when it did seem to be, something happened. Destiny definitely didn’t want my confession to come to light. So okay, I thought, maybe I should just keep it to myself forever.

One morning, I stepped in the conference room with my usual coffee in hand. There were Luke, Emily, Penelope, Tara, JJ and (Y/N). The conversation was about the latest BAU girls' night. I sat down, taking one of the files settled on the table and starting to leaf through it.

"No! In defense of (Y/N), I must say she was as calm as we were at the table when the guy approached to her.” Tara said.

"Ah, so there was no flirting?" Luke asked.

"Hey! Who do you think I am, Luke? We were there for girls' night, not to catch lovers." (Y/N) replied laughing.

"Of course, they didn't stop looking at each other all night..." Stated JJ with a giggle.

"No JJ! I don't know who you were looking at, but it wasn't me." (Y/N) defended herself. The conversation was inherently awkward for me at that point. I silently didn’t take my eyes off the file in my hands.

"Well, even if she did it, (Y/N) is a free woman and could have run away with whoever she wanted, right?" Luke had a point and that made my blood boil. I'm sure Prentiss noticed.

"Okay, but nothing happened in the end. The guy left and we kept drinking. And here we are, safe and sound.” Prentiss summarized, trying to end the conversation. My hands were sweating, and I looked sideways at (Y/N) who was giggling nervously. Prentiss was probably lying just because I was there.

“Oh yeah, but just before leaving he slipped you a piece of paper with his phone number. I'm sure you saved it in your contacts and called him later!” Penelope said directly to (Y/N), who didn't say anything back. Okay. I was fed up. This conversation had to end at that very moment. I closed the file and dropped it on the table with all the force of my frustration. I got up from the chair, clenching my fists and saying "Enough!" with my jaw clenched. Everyone in the room froze and stared at me in astonishment. Prentiss was the first to react.

"Okay, Luke, Tara, JJ Penelope... to my office. Now." Emily quickly left the room and the rest following her almost instantly. (Y/N) looked confused as the group left, then fixed her eyes on me.

"Spencer?... what's going on ?"

In silence, I closed the door of the room and leaned my back on it, crossing my arms over my chest looking at (Y/N). "You okay?"

"Not. I'm not okay. This is driving me insane.” I said, uncrossing my arms and scratching the back of my neck.

"Tell me, what's going on? Maybe I can help..." (Y/N) tried to get up from the chair to approach me.

"Just don't say anything, okay? I just need you to listen to me, and I need no one and nothing to interrupt me this time.” Just as a precaution I locked the door. (Y/N) opened her eyes with concern.

"Spencer, you're scaring me..." I just stared at her as she remembered I told her not to speak. "I’m sorry..."

“I'm going to start at the end, to make sure you hear it well. Okay?” I cleared my throat and continued speaking. “I love you (Y/N), I've loved you since practically the first day that you walked through this same door with Emily. And no, this goes beyond our friendship. Of course, I love being your friend. But that is no longer enough for me. Every time I see a man in your life, I feel something burning inside me. It hurts me deeply to see you suffer for some idiot who doesn't deserve you. I can’t take it anymore. I tried to tell you so many times, I think I’ve lost count. But if you never even considered the possibility, then I can't do anything else.

You don't even remember that you kissed me outside a bar! When I told you that I loved you while almost dying in a dirty barn, you thought I was delusional! Every time... every single time I thought I gave you signs, you either didn't see them or you didn't care. I don't know what hurts me the most, your blindness or your indifference. You’re a profiler like me! How is it possible that you never…? Damn it (Y/N)! The thing is, I can't live with this stuck inside me anymore. And I'm sorry if telling you all this ends up ruining our friendship, but not being honest with you seems so much worse now. And... and... since I told you this, I think you can go on with your day... Goodbye".

I pulled the lock and opened the door to leave the room. After my confession/outburst, I didn't even dare make eye contact with (Y/N). I was about to cross the threshold when one of (Y/N) 's hands slammed it shut again. I turned around and (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around my neck before she lifted on her feet and collapsed her lips against mine. My first reaction was to raise my hands and smash my back against the door. Stupid reaction, I don't even know why I did it.

That didn't stop (Y/N), who gripped my hair to keep our mouths together. Realizing what was happening, I took her by the waist and brought her as close as possible to me, emptying all my accumulated frustration into that kiss. I don't know how long we were like this.

Okay, yeah, I really do know. It was 2 minutes and 45 seconds. After that time, we both pulled away because we could hardly breathe.

"Wow... (Y/N)... what ...?" I tried to articulate some coherent phrase, but nothing else came out.

"Now you are going to listen to me." She said as she began to play with my tie between her fingers. “First of all: neither blindness nor indifference. Denial only. Spencer... I'm clear on all the times you tried to tell me. Really, even before I broke up with Robertson. Since the time we talked on the jet and I asked you if you were mad at me. I just wanted to deny it all this time. It’s stupid, I know, but I didn't want to hurt you. I was scared I would hurt you if I crossed that border of our friendship. And yes, I also remember the night at the bar. And when you got shot in the barn. I must insist, it was all to deny myself the possibility.

And here comes the second: I did it because I... I love you too. I have for a long time. Why didn't I do anything about it...? Well, it’s kind absurd now I think about it. I did nothing because I was afraid of ruining it. All my relationships end in disaster and I didn’t want that to happen to you. And if that meant locking myself out of the possibility of going further, I was willing to do that so I wouldn’t lose you…”

This time it was I who connected my lips with hers. It felt so good, so soft, and so warm. Not even my best dreams could compare to it. When we pulled back to catch our breath, we looked at each other and started talking at the same time.

"I’m so sorry Spencer... I never wanted you to feel like this..."

"I was waiting for the right moment..."

"If I knew how to compensate you for this..."

"(Y/N), if I had known..."

“What the hell Spencer, why we are so bad at our job…”

"We are the worst ... we should resign..." We both started laughing.

"Come here, Reid." She said, taking one of my hands and pulling me into a hug. "Could you forgive me for making you suffer all this time?"

She didn't need to ask me that. I would do anything for her.

"I let you puke on me... 3 times in one night. I think that exceeds all tolerance limits on my part, don't you think?"

She started to laugh, stifling the noise on my chest. It felt so good to have her this close, to be able to touch her.

"I love you (Y/N), so much." I said, stroking her cheeks and looking at her almost without blinking.

"I love you too Spencer. My friend, my partner… and now, my lover.” She replied, winking at me.

"Hey, that last one you still owe me... with interest due to all the time that’s already passed."

"Don’t worry, honey, you just have to hold on for a few more hours, and I assure you that we will catch up quickly".

———————

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid

[andromedia5]

What’s in a Dance

They’re speaking.

The ballerinas are speaking with their bodies, so over exaggerated that she understands everything and it takes nothing. None of the words that have to fight through her mind to get to her mouth. Just pretty dresses and quick feet and music without words and it’s . . . beautiful.

She reaches for Bruce’s hand and squeezes, letting him anchor her to the world as the colors and the light and the life wash over her. He’s smiling at her; happy, calm, nervous.

Always nervous around her, but different nervous, hopeful nervous.

Hopeful nervous again, when she opens the ballet studio door to see him, sitting there waiting for her. He gets up, folding his newspaper under his arm.

“How’d it go, Cassie?”

She’s flung her arms around his neck before he can get another word out.

Bruce knocks at her door a few weeks after she starts ballet lessons with Madame Naomi while she’s lying on her bed listening to Tom Petty. Not just listening, listening with both headphones in and the volume up and her eyes closed letting Wildflowers wash over her and block out the rest of the world because she’s safe. He sits at the foot of her bed when she motions for him to come in and tugs at her feet teasingly, so her knees drop back down onto the bedspread. Cassandra pauses her music and takes her earbuds out, pushing back the hair that had gotten tangled in the wire.

“Good morning,”

“It’s not morning,” he points out, tilting his head towards the clock on her bedside table proudly displaying that it is in fact 2:25 and therefore; not morning.

“Happy see today,” That isn’t right, she knows it isn’t, it’s not complete and her mind starts to chase after the right words. Bruce runs a thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

“Take your time, sweetheart,”

Cass tries to slow down the words running through her mind so she can see them clearly. “Happy first time seeing me today,”

His eyes crinkle at the sides and he kisses her forehead “That, I am. Can you come down to the library with me for a second?”

She nods and swung her legs off the bed, following him out the door. Last time they had gone down to the library for a second it had been when he had given her that pair of his mother’s earrings. They had belonged to her grandmother before her and he had thought she would have wanted her granddaughter to have them but if she didn’t want them it was completely fine and they were old anyways and she didn’t even have her ears pierced so- at which point she had stopped listening to his rambling in favor of staring at the delicate gold flowers with the sapphires in the centers. Dick pierced her ears in his apartment a week later with a sewing needle and an ice cube and while he argued with a livid Alfred over the phone about how “It’s completely safe” and “That’s how I got my ears pierced at the circus,” Kory helped her put in the earrings and that glorious sense of belonging had washed over her, again.

The library smells of almond and old paper, sunlight drenching the leather armchairs and bouncing off the old grandfather clock. Cassandra lingers at the doorway watching as Bruce strides over to the old record player, carefully lowering a record onto it and turning to her. “You said you wanted to come to the gala this Saturday?” Something in her brain clicks as she realizes why they’re here and rushes over to him eagerly. “You don’t have to go if you changed your mind” he continues, “But I thought you might want to learn,”

“Different dancing,”

“Alfred made me go to lessons when I was your age but the last teacher filed a restraining order after I tried to send Jason when he was fourteen and he . . . well, you know your brother, you can imagine,” he turns and sets the needle on the record. Piano notes begin to play, simple and elegant like the way Tim’s fingers move across the shiny white and black keys.

“Clair de Lune, it’s a waltz but a very slow one, it’s easier to learn.” Bruce extends one of his hands and she holds it. Their hands look funny together, one tan and small, with uniform circular calluses and the other large and scarred with a thin dusting of hair up the back of his palm. “Now you put your hand on my shoulder,” he instructs as he rests his other hand on her waist and lower back, a bit like a hug.

She does so, albeit a bit impatiently “This isn’t dancing,”.

Bruce laughs and she pokes his shin with her toe as if it would wake his feet up and make them move. “We’re getting there. Now a waltz is mostly just a box step. There can be other elements but at its core it's just a box step. So we move back,” he gestured for her to take a step backward and then followed her with a step forward. “To the side,” they both side stepped in unison, “Foreword for you, back for me. And then to the side again and we’re back where we started.”

Cassandra looks up from where she had been tracking the movement of their feet in an attempt to memorize. It was surprisingly like a kata, or the five positions in ballet, simple. Maybe it was just that what she had seen had looked more like dancing than it actually was.

“That’s it?” she asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. He rolls his eyes and begins the box step again but faster this time, and this feels like what she’s seen other people do, the almost rise and fall of it, like a carousel. She trips over her feet a little but he holds her, not letting her fall until she’s memorized the rhythm of the steps. The same rush of euphoria she always gets from dancing comes swooping in as her father spins her into the light shining through the curtains.

They’re whispering, always whispering.

Cass has learnt a lot since leaving Cain. She’s learnt to speak English, she’s learnt to speak. She’s learnt that people don’t like her. Not for the bad things she’s done, not for Cain. Just don’t like her.

Jealousy.

That’s what she’s told causes it, first by Alfred, who merely pats her cheek and makes a passing remark about the green eyed monster coming after kind, pretty girls.

She can tell he’s lying.

Then again by Steph, “Bruce is rich, Cass. All rich people want to be richer. Well, except your dad, but maybe he’s so rich it skips him. That’s why those harpy faced bitches with earrings that could pay my tuition don’t like you. Ignore it,”.

She isn’t lying. But Steph hasn’t seen.

Jason doesn’t say it’s jealousy. Jason doesn’t really answer, just laughs that laugh where he doesn’t really think it’s funny and mutters something in Spanish.

“Gringo cabrones. They never fucking change, do they, Cassie?”

She learns the way she learns a lot of things that no one could even begin to explain to her; a combination of TV and Tim. An episode of Boy Meets World and now she at least knows what questions to ask, which he answers. Cold anger and no small amount of what’s either sadness or guilt (it might be both) in his pretty eyes as he does his best to explain. He has the same look now, knuckles white as the old women sitting at the table near them get drunker and louder. Like birds on a tree branch, but the birds that like to sit outside her bedroom window don’t say her name quite so often or so mockingly. Tim stomps away while one of the board members she and Steph have christened “Mr. Suckup With The Sex Offender Mustache”  is in the middle of saying something and walks straight to her.

“Dance with me?” he asks, much louder than he needs to. Tim’s hand is cold in hers but it’s there and he follows her into a waltz, the four corners of the invisible handkerchief marking out the box step. “Can you let me lead?” he whines and this is that thing Barbara says about the elephant. When people don’t talk about something they both see. But it doesn’t feel like lies and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. It feels like that pushing at her chest; the growing pains because she’s still adjusting to loving someone this much.

“Little brother,” she reminds him just in case he wasn’t getting ‘not a chance’ from her face, and Tim grins and squeezes her hand. Cass isn’t sure if the whispering stops or if she just can’t hear them anymore.

#when will cass and bruce's father daughter adorableness return from the war? #cassandra and bruce wayne #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain and tim drake #batfam #cassandra cain #my writing #bruce wayne #tim drake #dickkory #bat siblings #black bat #dick grayson #jason todd