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#I will figure bullshit out I swear I got a lot of ideas
y0ur-loca1-lyr3 · 23 days
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A/N; I have been obsessed with husk lately so here we are lol
Husk falling in love/dating headcanons
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Falling in love
Husk at first can’t really tell what the fuck he’s feeling
As much as he can read other people like a book, he can’t read himself whatsoever
So it’s needless to say there’s a lot of thoughts going through his head while he’s cleaning the glasses at the bar
Self reflection, self reflection, self reflection
Oh, and of course Alastor teasing Husk about it for sure
Honestly Alastor’s teasing nearly blew his cover
“Say, good fellow, weren’t you just yesterday talking about them?” Alastor said with a Cheshire smile, Husk stopping in his tracks and staring at Alastor with a glare. “Al. Don’t.” Husk warned, despite the fact he couldn’t do much. All the while you were staring confusedly at the two of them.
Despite all that he’s pretty perceptive, so he’d be able to gauge whether or not he’s safe to confess his feelings
He spends days trying to figure out the best way to confess
Should he give you flowers? Should he do something grand? Maybe confess at some restaurant?
Honestly he has no idea how to go about this
As he would say, he’s not all for that ‘touchy-feely bullshit’ he very much so is
When he does confess his feelings, he’s straightforward, or at least, tries to be
He doesn’t stutter over his words per say, but he does have a hard time figuring out how to word things
“I was wondering do you maybe, sorta wanna… go out for a drink or somethin’? Not that it has to be an alcoholic drink, we could go to a restaurant if you’re not too fond of drinkin’, and we don’t necessarily have to do a restaurant either, just-“ he sighs, “do you wanna go out with me or not?”
When you say yes, he’s baffled at first
He tries to hide his smile, but fails, and now he’s got a big goofy grin on his face the rest of his shift
Dating
Not much for PDA, but behind closed doors he’s very cuddly
Will pout if you guys can’t cuddle one night
When he does pout like that he’s all passive aggressive
When in public, he doesn’t do too much beyond holding hands
When watching movies, he’ll let you lean against him, and he’ll place his arm around you
He’s memorized your favorite cocktail
If he doesn’t have the stuff to make it, he’ll ask Charlie if they can get the stuff for it the next time they have to restock the bar
He’s not a big talker, but he’ll listen to you while he does his work, giving his input every once and a while
Compliment him and he’ll melt instantly
He can’t take a compliment for shit
Will deny any compliments at all times
Though maybe a kiss or two could convince him otherwise
He purrs
He most definitely purrs
Most of the time when you two are cuddling and he’s fast asleep
Mention it and he’ll deny it with a passion, swearing up and down that he doesn’t purr
Yes, he will come if you go ‘pspspspsps’
He will be annoyed after the fact though
Overall, sure he’s got a harsh exterior, but he’s a very soft and cuddly person to be with <3
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macsimagines · 5 months
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👉👈 I know you mentioned getting asks with similar themes but I can’t help but ask for more because god damn is the angst just… -chefs kiss-
Can the girlies (and by girlies I mean me 😔) get that Kanto!Mikey, Shion, and baby boy Shinichiro headcanons about their s/o trying to leave them because their s/o doesn’t feel good enough?
I swear I’ll give you a better idea someday 😭😭😭.
I did Mikey in a seperate post because his got out of a hand and waaaaaaaaay to big sorry I didn't give these two as much love.
TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, STALKING, GASLIGHTING???
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Yandere!Shion Madarame
He knows you're insecure, and he loves you, he really does, but he uses it to his advantage. Shion is more worried you're going to be scared and try to run, not like he'll ever let you, but still is very worried about what you might try so he does attempt to play into your worries to make you stay.
"I mean, ya, you can be a pain, but I still like you," he tells you after listening to you fret over how maybe he shouldn't be with someone so weak. What he doesn't say is that he wants to protect you, to guard you and love you because you're just too precious to let go.
But then you go and pull some bullshit. You actually try to break it off... "I-I can't do it anymore, Shion. I just know you need someone who can do more for you and I'm not that person..." and you actually walk out on him like that.
Now Shion would sooner tear out his own eyes than ever hurt you, but your 'breakup' isn't sitting well with him. You figured as much when you see him watching staring at you from your apartment window. He even waves.
And it gets worse from there, because now there always seems to be beatings where ever you go. The nice clerk at the corner store you visit regularly ends up being robbed and thrown out of a window, the jogger you pass by and smile to in your neighborhood ends up being jumped with his kneecaps broken, and even your coworker that always brings you coffee has somehow ended up in accident... People are dropping like flys...
Shion pays you a visit one day. He's actually sitting in your apartment when you get off one night. You're already not happy because you just heard an old friend from high school had somehow ended up with a cracked skull...
But you find Shion just sitting at the foot of your bed... With hands caked in drying blood, smiling at you like you just told him he had won a million dollars.
"How many more?" he asks you, "Wh-what? Shion what're you-" "How many more people are in our way, Y/N? Tell me so I can take care of 'em."
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Yandere!Shinichiro Sano
Oh how much this one loves you could bring all the greatest of romantics to shame. Too bad he's such a goofball. And honestly, that suits you fine. You two are perfect for each other like that.
You're both playful, a little silly, and you two have fun together. But then you see it. The importance of Shinichiro Sano. Men, powerful men, come to him for guidance and respect his own authority.
That makes you feel so small. You actually can't believe how many influential people he has at his beck and call, the ones that call him a leader. And where could someone, who's a little bit goofy and a lot of bit awkward possibly fit into his world.
You tell him as much and it almost brings him to tears. "You're just... you're so much more than I am-!" "I am nothing without you! How could you even think that!?"
And you two argue like that all the time, back and forth, about how you know he's too important to waste his time, and how you're too important to loose. But boy does he feel like he's loosing you....
"I gave it all up. I don't need that if I don't have you." "You had it before me, you can't just stop being so important." But he isn't important, you make him feel important...
Once, you tried to mention that maybe he could do better and he reached hysterics. It honestly terrified you, not because he was violent but because you saw that he had the potential to be.
Grabbing your arms in his hands with a crushing grip, one you knew could break bones if they really wanted to, and holding you so tight that you couldn't even budge if you wanted to.
"I don't want anyone else!" he had hissed, "I don't need anyone else! This is it! For you and me!" its no longer comforting words but demands of submission now. Like he needs you to top bringing the topic up altogether.
And you do. Not because you want to or because you're suddenly convinced. But because you're too scared now. You've noticed eyes on your everywhere you go, you even tell Shinichiro about it.
"Oh? Him? He worked under me back in the day. Told him to keep an eye out for you." "Wh-what!? Why!?" "Keep you safe. Keep you from doing something stupid."
You figured you're not the only insecure one....
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imaginespazzi · 1 month
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Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger
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Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?
(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff
Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)
TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!
August 2021
where are you 
i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 
dude 
are you on your way?
you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 
PAIGE
i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 
but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?
this isn’t funny where are you?
i have to leave in 15 mins 
are you actually not coming?
wtf????
this is actually bullshit
get over yourself bueckers 
wow 
fuck you
just landed 
thought you might like to know 
sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 
September 2021
dude enough okay 
can you just call me back??
i just wanna talk 
i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   
November 2021 
hi i’mma be in dc over christmas
nvm 
idk why i’m trying again  
maybe i should block you 
this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 
December 2021
i thought i saw you today but idk
couldn’t have been you cause if it was 
would you really not even say hi?
i’m done trying paige 
merry christmas i guess
March 2022 
i misz you 
lyke a wot
love uuuuu pppppp
even if ur a bwtich 
pkese pick up 
ignore that 
people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 
wait 
i don’t need to tell you that 
you already ignore it all anyways
 
August 2022 
i heard about the acl 
i’m sorry 
idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk
nvm 
***
September 2022 
When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 
Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  
“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 
“What are you doing here?”
Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 
“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”
“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”
Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 
 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”
“You talked to my dad?”
“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”
As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 
“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 
“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”
“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”
“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 
“That’s not what-”
“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”
“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.
Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.
“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”
“You don’t-”
“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”
The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.
The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.
“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”
In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 
“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 
“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”
Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 
“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”
Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”
“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 
“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 
Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”
She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”
“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 
“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  
“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”
“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”
“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 
“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”
“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 
***
When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 
“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  
“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”
“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”
“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”
It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”
To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 
“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”
“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 
“That’s not a thing.”
“Is too.”
“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”
“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.
*** 
Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 
“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 
“You wanna see my dorm?” 
“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”
“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”
“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,��� Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 
“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 
“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 
“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 
“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”
Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 
They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.
“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 
“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 
It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 
“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”
Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 
“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 
“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 
“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”
“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”
“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 
The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 
It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 
“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”
“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 
“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”
Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.
“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”
“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 
***
That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.
November 2020
“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.
She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 
“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 
“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 
“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”
“Right.”
“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”
“They seem wonderful P.”
Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.
“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”
“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 
“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 
“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”
Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”
“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 
She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 
“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 
When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”
The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.
“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 
Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”
“What?”
“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”
Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 
“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”
Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”
“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.
“Paige-”
“Have you told UCLA yet?”
“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”
“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 
In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 
“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 
“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”
“Of course not-”
“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”
“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”
“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”
“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”
They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 
“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”
The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 
“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 
“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 
When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 
“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”
And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 
***
September 2022
After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 
On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 
When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 
“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 
“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”
“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”
Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”
“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 
Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 
And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 
“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 
“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”
Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”
Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 
“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”
“Butt dial.”
“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”
“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”
“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 
There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 
“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 
On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 
“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”
“Paige-”
“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”
“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”
“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 
“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”
“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”
***
Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 
What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 
The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.
“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 
“You having fun?” 
“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 
“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”
Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”
The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 
Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 
This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 
***
It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 
“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 
It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”
“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 
She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 
“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”
Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 
“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 
“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 
Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.
“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”
“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 
“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”
“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”
“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”
Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”
“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”
It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 
“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 
“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 
The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 
In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 
“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”
When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”
“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 
It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 
“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 
The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 
“Az-”
Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 
“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”
Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.
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gerrystamour · 8 months
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suspended in the ether, till i felt you in my chest [chapter one]
Written for: Lex's Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge Prompt: "Can I braid your hair?"
Explicit | Steddie | In Progress
So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed. Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t. And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right? This is my first fill for @thefreakandthehair Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge! I hope you all enjoy!
[ READ ON AO3 ]
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chapter one: we are broken bodies bound for each other
“Can I braid your hair?”
Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Steve was strarfishing in the center of Eddie’s bed in just his boxers and a t-shirt while Eddie perched on top of the desk under his window, having a smoke and pretending he could feel a breeze coming in.
Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around the Fourth of July, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted.
He'd almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted.
It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them.
It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes; watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would do just that, make like they would leave completely.
“We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath.
“You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation.
The air in the Beemer would change as the question sat heavily in the space between them and Eddie was held in suspense, waiting for Steve to say or do anything. Most of the time, he wouldn’t hear an answer from Steve over the sound of the wind through the open windows and, like the coward he was, Eddie was too afraid to look at him after asking.
Sometimes, though, he would hear, “Of course I do, Eds.” Soft, teasing, possibly even sweet. Eddie’s delusional ass always liked to imagine it sounded as lovestruck as he felt.
Regardless of whether Steve answered or not, they would just drive, next stop anywhere big enough to disappear into with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever cash they had on them. Sometimes, they would be talking, usually about stupid shit that turned into rowdy, playful arguments, but most of the time they were quiet. Just letting the music play while they played at running away from Hawkins, a tension building between them that Eddie could almost feel, like the lowest tone on a bass guitar.
The furthest they’d ever gotten outside of Hawkins before one of them chickened out was two hours. Well, the furthest they’d ever gotten before Eddie chickened out.
Eddie hated to admit that he was always the first one to back down, thinking about Wayne back at home wondering and worrying about Eddie again. He would think about how Wayne would take Eddie just skipping town, not even saying goodbye or giving him any warning, after everything they had gone through. 
And really, what would they even do if they left suddenly and unceremoniously like that? Especially the two of them?
Sure, they were friends now, Eddie felt secure enough in what they had going on to say that much was true, but that was tentative at best. He was still Eddie “The Freak” Munson, and Steve was still Steve. It was only a matter of time before he found out just how much of a freak Eddie was and ended everything. Eddie was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t hurt him, but still…
They couldn’t run away with each other because then Eddie would have nothing to fall back on once Steve found out. Not just about what team Eddie was batting for or whatever the stupid sports metaphor was, but the specific person he was stuck on. Even if Steve was okay with him being gay… the whole reason Eddie even had to move to Hawkins just before he turned thirteen was because he was an idiot and told a friend about his crush on him. Of course, his dad found out after the boy and their other friends beat Eddie up, and that obviously ended with him being shipped to Indiana to live with his uncle. But the key detail was that the kid knew Eddie was gay and told him it was okay, that he was fine with that. Eddie never wanted to take that chance again.
They had just returned to his trailer from yet another game of Escape Chicken. It had taken a bit longer than usual for Steve to respond when Eddie had suggested turning around this time, long enough for Eddie to turn and look at him. There was something intense in Steve’s expression, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the flex of Steve’s arms as he wrung the steering wheel briefly. For an exhilarating moment, Eddie had thought Steve would ignore him and keep going.
Then Steve looked over at Eddie with his brightest, stupidest, goofiest grin that never failed to make Eddie’s stomach do somersaults, and then turned the car around. The drive back to Hawkins was always light, with Steve turning up his shitty music and singing along to the dumb love songs, batting his long, pretty eyelashes at him whenever Steve caught him watching.
But this time Eddie was having a hard time shaking off that moment just before Steve turned around. That moment where it really felt like Steve wasn’t going to stop, and if it hadn’t been for Eddie sitting there asking to go back home, Steve probably wouldn’t have. How long did Eddie have before Steve disappeared, with or without him?
“Eds?”
Steve’s voice brought Eddie out of his spinning thoughts and back to the matter at hand, which honestly wasn’t much better for Eddie’s constitution.
Because the matter at hand was Steve starting their other game of chicken, the one that Eddie wasn’t sure who was winning or losing , if either of them even were because maybe it wasn’t even a game like the one in the car.
It still kind of felt like Eddie was the first one to flinch every time, though.
This round was always started by Steve, with him offering some sort of physical attention, and Eddie wanted to say no— knew that he should say no— but he was always, always too weak.
How could he be expected to turn down the opportunity to have his fucking crush touch him, no matter how chaste? Sure, he felt like a fucking creep saying something innocent and nonchalant— “Sure, man. Knock yourself out.”— while knowing that his thoughts were anything but. Sure, it felt like taking advantage when Steve would get close enough that Eddie could smell what remained of his cologne through the musk of his sweat. But there was really only so much Eddie could withstand; he already turned down running away into the sunset with Steve, the least he could allow himself was whatever platonic scraps of physical affection the man would offer him.
Obviously, Eddie never initiated this little game, even before he realized how he felt about Steve. Being a queer alone made Eddie’s acceptance of Steve’s touches risky enough, and once he figured out how he felt about him? It was stupid that he kept letting it happen, but at least he never started it. Plausible deniability and all that.
Stupid and pathetic as it was, he would take what he could get for as long as possible.
So, Eddie would say yes as blandly as possible and Steve would get a little smirk on his lips and do whatever it was that he asked to do, and then Eddie would feel flustered, off-kilter and set adrift. It always felt like a test or a challenge and Eddie had no idea if he passed.
Knowing his track record with tests, Eddie was pretty sure he didn’t.
And now Eddie was sweating his entire dick off and struggling to keep the sweaty, frizzy mop that was his hair off of his neck, and Steve was asking to play with it. Well, not play with it, but braid it. That was an important distinction to make, because playing with Eddie’s hair would imply some level of intimacy that was decidedly not platonic, right?
The real issue was that he just needed to tie his hair up, but Eddie couldn’t find any of the silk ties that Jeff’s mom had given him after helping him cut an elastic band out of his hair during his second senior year. His hair was even curlier with the sweat and humidity, which made it way too unruly to risk a ponytail or bun with a normal tie. Of course, braiding it solved all of that, didn’t it?
“Dude, what?” Eddie asked dumbly as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray by his knee, trying to stall a bit before he gave his inevitable consent to have Steve’s hands on him in a strictly platonic manner.
“Your hair— do you want help with it? I can braid it for you, get it off your neck,” Steve offered again, sitting up on Eddie’s bed and gesturing at him. He was sweaty too, his shirt soaked through and his face red from the heat. Somehow, Steve’s hair was still gorgeous, in spite of the sweat dripping from his hairline and the muggy, oppressive air around them.
“You know how to braid hair?” Eddie asked rather than give Steve a response to his offer, raising an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t like Eddie actually doubted Steve’s abilities; he hadn’t doubted Steve since he jumped into a haunted fucking lake without hesitation.
Steve rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh. “I used to braid Carol’s hair all the time,” he answered, and that piqued some of Eddie’s interest since Steve didn’t mention his friendship with Carol or Tommy H very often these days. “I stayed in practice helping Max when she’d let me before everything. C’mon, you’ve been bitching and moaning since we got back, and it stopped being cute, like, an hour ago.”
“Aw, Stevie, you think I’m cute?” Eddie teased with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes, managing to keep from grimacing outwardly as his mouth got away from him.
Something passed over Steve’s face and Eddie couldn’t place the expression, and it didn’t help that it was gone as quickly as it appeared. If he had to name the look, Eddie would have called it sad, but that didn’t make sense. Eddie didn’t say anything that could have hurt Steve’s feelings, so he couldn’t be sad. But what else could that expression have been?
“Last time I’m offering, Eds. Do you want help or not?” Steve asked with another bitchy eye-roll that Eddie couldn’t help but snort at.
“Alright, Stevie, have at’er,” Eddie said as nonchalantly as possible, gesturing grandly at his frizzy mane. “I mean, good luck, I guess.”
“It’ll be easier if your hair’s wet,” Steve said simply, getting up off the bed and stretching with a groan.
His t-shirt, soaked with sweat and sticking to Steve’s skin, rode up with the motion and showed off a freckled and scarred strip of Steve’s midriff. Eddie wanted to lick the skin that was revealed, taste the salt of Steve’s sweat, make his own marks and leave it shiny with his spit. When Steve lowered his arms, the shirt stayed lifted where it was stuck to his skin.
Eddie quickly diverted his gaze as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course. Should I get like a bowl? Or we might have a spray bottle kicking around,” Eddie said thoughtfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He jumped when Steve let out a loud bark of laughter.
“Or, I was thinking you could just hop into your shower real quick?” Steve suggested, crowding his space just enough that Eddie could practically taste the salt of his sweat. It was unreal just how much Eddie was obsessed with Steve’s fucking scent, just the smell of clean skin, sweat, and cologne. It never failed to fill Eddie’s head with thoughts of how he’d smell during other activities.
That thought alone had Eddie jolting back with a nervous laugh that came out too loud to pass off as casual. Oh well, he’d just roll with it. “Right! Of course, shower. You’re right,” Eddie said with another loud laugh, giving himself a self-deprecating eye-roll.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest with a little smirk. “Make sure you use that new shampoo I got you, and the conditioner—”
“Yep, got it, Stevie,” Eddie interrupted quickly, his heart skipping a beat at remembering the gifted haircare products that Steve had seemed almost nervous about giving to him. It had been a lot, and Eddie knew it had cost a lot, but Steve insisted he have all of it.
“I mean that leave-in stuff, the mask—” Steve started again, following him out of the room, and Eddie paused in the hallway to raise an eyebrow at him.
“You wanna join me? Just to make sure I wash my hair properly?” Eddie asked blandly, and he was legitimately impressed that he was able to deliver that line so smoothly. The thought of Steve joining him in an enclosed space while naked was something Eddie usually only indulged in when he was alone and in his bed.
The comment had Steve stopping in his tracks, his mouth clicking shut as he glanced away from Eddie. It was… not unexpected, necessarily, but it also wasn’t the scoff and eye-roll Eddie’s smartass comments usually garnered. Fear gripped Eddie as he realized he might have fucked up, that he said too much and all the rumors from high school clicked into place.
“Welp! I’ll be right back,” Eddie said, too quick and too loud, before spinning on a heel and disappearing into the small bathroom of the trailer. Hopefully, he could figure out a good excuse for inviting his friend into the shower with him with minimal freaking out.
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Steve wasn’t sure just how long he stood outside the bathroom door just listening to the water running while his brain came back online after Eddie’s comment.
The thought of joining Eddie in the tiny stall had Steve’s head full of heat and static, and a very large part of himself was tempted to say, “screw it” and do just that. It was easy to imagine it, crowding Eddie against the wall and slotting their hips together, getting each other off in a frantic, hungry frenzy. Without really meaning to, Steve’s thoughts wandered further, his daydream shifting to imagine Eddie on his knees, his smart mouth occupied while Steve buried his hands in those curls he was obsessed with. Then his mind supplied him a very vivid fantasy of his cock sinking into a different tight heat—
Sucking in a sharp inhale, Steve shook his head and quickly went back to Eddie’s room. He couldn’t just stand there in the middle of the Munson trailer getting a hard-on while listening to Eddie shower. There had to be something to do with manners or whatever. And as much as he wanted to go into that bathroom—he was invited, right?—he wouldn’t because he was working really hard on giving Eddie the space he needed, waiting for Eddie to finally act on what they both felt.
Because they both felt it, right? Steve definitely thought so most of the time, with all of Eddie’s shy smiles and delighted giggles whenever Steve made a joke, or the way he would lean into Steve’s hands when he’d accept a massage, or the way those big brown eyes would watch Steve’s mouth sometimes rather than meet his gaze while he talked. But then, when Eddie would deliver his flirtatious little lines, they would come out flat, sarcastic almost. Some sort of tone that was so deliberately uncaring, it threw Steve off completely.
What did it mean when someone so animated and vibrant turned so flat? Was that just how Eddie flirted? Part of him was convinced that was the case, and Steve just had to get used to Eddie’s style, because he knew how Eddie felt, had known at least somewhat for months now.
Steve found out back when Eddie had just barely woken up from his coma and was so high on pain medications, it was doubtful he really registered that he had company, let alone what he was saying to them. It made for some really funny moments that had Steve wishing he had some way to record them.
Then one day, Steve had been helping Wayne while he practiced redressing Eddie’s healing injuries. Mostly, Steve’s job was to keep Eddie sitting up and make sure his hands stayed put and didn’t get in his uncle’s way. When the bandages were pulled away from the stitched-together skin of his midriff, Eddie looked down with an exaggerated grimace.
“What the fuck, I lost three tattoos and a nipple?” Eddie whined, like he always did when the bandages came off. Steve usually just snorted and listened to his complaints, but there was something extra to Eddie’s tone that he didn’t like.
“I mean, yeah, but you’re gonna have sick scars, dude,” Steve said with a winning smile when Eddie lifted his pout to look at him. Winking, Steve added, “Chicks dig scars, the whole bad boy look. Seriously, trust me.”
“If you say so,” Eddie sighed, still pouting dejectedly, and Steve frowned. Then Eddie said, “Don’t really care what girls like, though.”
At the time, Steve didn’t really register the way Wayne had fumbled the roll of medical tape, too caught up in getting Eddie to smile again. “Of course, you don’t,” Steve teased, winking at Eddie.
Eddie giggled. “Stop that, why are you winking? You look dumb,” he laughed, and Steve felt like he'd won something. Still smiling, his dimples out in full force, Eddie leaned closer to his face and asked, “What about dudes, though?”
The hospital room went very quiet as Wayne sucked in a sharp breath. Steve just blinked at Eddie, their eyes locked while he processed the question slowly. “What?” he asked dumbly after a few moments.
“I think that’s enough of this conversation—” Wayne started to say.
“I said!” Eddie interjected loudly, glaring almost childishly at his uncle before his attention returned to Steve. “What about dudes? Men? Boys? What do they think of scars?”
It was a bit embarrassing how long it still took for the dots to connect for Steve, but once they did, he blushed and glanced at Wayne nervously. The man was watching Steve with that hawkish stare of his and Steve had to look away. He could still feel Wayne’s stare burning holes into the side of his head and God he just hoped this wasn’t the first Wayne was hearing about this, too.
“Y-yeah, dudes dig scars, too,” he finally stammered out, meeting Eddie’s gaze once again. Eddie was squinting at him almost suspiciously, so Steve added a quiet, “A lot.”
Eddie’s expression split back into his goofy grin and Steve’s stomach did a little somersault. “What about you, big boy?” he pushed, his tone strange as if he had attempted to purr or something. If the moment wasn’t so whatever this was, Steve would’ve laughed.
“What about me?” Steve asked stupidly. He knew exactly what Eddie was asking.
With the biggest eye roll, Eddie asked, “Do you like scars, Stevie?”
That was the question of the century, at least it was for Steve, because the moment it left Eddie’s mouth, three things immediately clicked into place in Steve’s head.
The first being that yes, Steve was absolutely into scars. He didn’t have much experience really seeing scars on anyone else other than himself, but he still knew. The second was that he knew he was going to like Eddie’s scars, a part of him liking that some of their scars would match even. And third, there was a part of him that was hungry, possessive even, at the thought of Eddie with scars— especially Eddie with scars that matched his.
“Y-yeah, Eds, I like scars,” he managed to say, but he was nearly bowled over at the intensity of Eddie’s grin when it widened even further.
“Do you think they’re sexy?” Eddie asked, and Wayne sucked his teeth.
“Boys—”
“Yeah, I do,” Steve answered, taking a page from Eddie’s book and trying to ignore Wayne. It was a little hard to do when the man was packing up the gauze and medical tape quickly.
Eddie’s grin shifted into a smirk as he leaned so close to Steve’s face. “How sexy—?”
A surprisingly big and strong hand fell heavily on Steve’s shoulder, startling him.
“Alright, boys, that’s quite enough,” Wayne said sternly, and Eddie just laid back on the bed and giggled loudly up at the ceiling. Steve’s stomach had felt squeamish, especially when Wayne’s eyes met his with something fierce and angry in them. “Harrington, a word outside. Now.”
Steve did not waste time standing up and following Wayne out to the hall. The man kept walking, so Steve silently followed until Wayne led them to the stairs. Once the door behind them shut, Wayne spun and pinned Steve with a hard stare.
“Sir—”
“No, you’re going to listen to me, Harrington,” Wayne interrupted, and Steve’s mouth snapped shut with a loud click. Once he was satisfied that Steve would keep his mouth shut, Wayne nodded once and in a low, dangerous voice he said, “Now, you’re not going to repeat a damn word that you just heard in there. If I catch even a whisper of what he said—”
“I won’t,” Steve interjected, grimacing when Wayne’s expression darkened. “Please, just—he’s not the first friend I’ve had that’s—I would never do that, okay?”
Wayne’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “He’s too high for his own good right now, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying,” he said, his tone almost challenging and Steve glanced away. The thought of Eddie saying all of that, implying all that he had but not meaning any of it? It hurt a lot more than it probably should have, given that Steve only realized his feelings for Eddie specifically less than ten minutes ago.
When Steve managed to meet Wayne’s eyes again, his expression was far less suspicious, more thoughtful than anything. “Don’t bring any of this up unless Eddie does, got it?” he eventually said, and Steve began to protest.
Selfishly, he wanted to clear up whether Eddie meant it as soon as possible, to hear Eddie repeat all of it and fill in the gaps. He wanted to hear Eddie say he thought scars were hot too, that Steve’s scars were hot.
“Sir—”
“Listen, Steve, I know my boy and I know he doesn’t do well when he feels cornered. Even if you go in gentle, he’s gonna lash out and probably say something that cuts down to the quick,” Wayne pushed sternly, and Steve shut his mouth with a small nod. “You can take my advice or not, up to you, but I promise you it will not end well if you push.”
Steve was tempted to go against Wayne’s advice, to just clear everything up the moment Eddie was properly lucid again. But then he thought about possibly losing Eddie when he had a chance at something, that he could blow that chance because he was impatient and pushy. There was no way that Steve would take that risk, so he begrudgingly did as Wayne told him; he didn’t bring it back up, and he didn’t push Eddie to bring it up himself.
Still, Steve decided to show Eddie that his feelings were reciprocated; he flirted and teased, offered physical affection and helped him out as often as he could, cooked for him and Wayne and kept him company. He spent weeks just trying to show Eddie that he wanted him, too. That Eddie could finally close the distance between them, and he wouldn’t be turned away.
Then one day when Eddie and Steve had been grabbing something to eat after their monthly check-up with the government doctors, some hick had spat something vile and cruel as they passed their table. Eddie made a crude gesture back at them, looking all the world like he didn’t give a shit what they thought, but the moment the asshole was gone he deflated.
“I fucking hate it here. Can’t wait to get the fuck out,” Eddie grumbled, and Steve’s chest squeezed. He hadn’t considered that Eddie would want to leave, which he immediately realized was stupid. Eddie hadn’t been treated well by the town his whole life, and things had only gotten worse since spring break. Of course, Eddie wanted out.
“You’re leaving us, Munson?” Steve asked as he tossed a couple of fries into his mouth.
Eddie sighed, shrugged. “No plans yet. Probably wouldn’t anyway,” he said with a heavy, put-upon sigh.
“Why not? What could possibly be keeping you here?” Steve asked with a grand gesture at the diner around them, though he was obviously meaning the whole town.
Eddie glanced at him, cheeks turning pink, before he looked away and cleared his throat. “People,” he eventually said with another shrug, and Steve was positive he saw Eddie’s eyes glance over at him again as he said it.
“Oh,” Steve thought, his heart hurting at the thought of being part of the reason Eddie was staying in a town that despised him. At the same time, he felt like flying, the knowledge that he was enough of a good reason to stick around. Or, he was at least one of the good reasons.
“You shouldn’t make your decisions based on other people,” Steve said after a minute. “I’m sure they’d understand if you left.”
“They would. Definitely would,” Eddie agreed with a hollow little laugh. “I wouldn’t make it a day out there alone, though.”
Without even thinking about it, Steve asked, “Then why don’t you ask if they’d go with you?”
Eddie laughed out loud at that, but it was a hollow and almost bitter sound, his big brown eyes rolling. “Yeah, right. Believe me, Stevie,” he said in a low tone, meeting Steve’s eyes so pointedly, it felt like a challenge. “No one’s gonna wanna run away with me, not really.”
So, Steve started putting out hints that he wasn’t planning on staying in Hawkins forever, that he was looking for one good reason to leave, that he would run if Eddie just said so. He started mentioning trying to go to college again, looking at schools elsewhere, as far away from Hawkins, Indiana as possible while staying in the country; throwing in comments about getting an apartment big enough for himself and at least one roommate. Steve always talked about his plans to or around Eddie, and sometimes he would respond and play along before slipping into that deliberately deadpan flirtation.
It was confusing and felt like he was getting nowhere most of the time. Sometimes, though, Eddie would seem so close to taking down the walls around him, to bringing up his feelings, the conversation from the hospital, anything that would finally end Steve’s waiting. At the same time, Steve would wait forever if the alternative was potentially driving Eddie away.
Steve was happy enough with just Eddie’s friendship, even if that was the only type of relationship he would have.
“That’s a mighty serious face you’ve got on, Harrington.”
Jumping, Steve looked over at Eddie as he returned to the bedroom and immediately had to look away.
Eddie was wearing only a pair of boxers, squeezing his hair out with his towel as he wandered closer to where Steve was sitting on the bed. Glancing back at Eddie, Steve looked at the scars that covered his torso, how many of them matched his own, but then there were the scars over his chest and up the thick column of Eddie’s throat. There was nothing Steve wanted more in that moment than to put his mouth and tongue on every single twisted patch of skin.
As Eddie approached and tossed his towel onto the bed, Steve realized he had slipped the handle of a comb into the waistband of his boxers, the line of it following his happy trail. It captivated Steve’s attention for just a few moments too long because suddenly Eddie was standing directly in front of him and clearing his throat.
Looking up at Eddie’s face quickly, Steve smiled weakly at his raised eyebrow. His expression was strange, like he was unimpressed, but it was pinched, almost forced. Eddie’s eyes were wide and bright, and maybe it was just Steve’s own feelings, but there was an almost hopeful look behind them.
“You okay, Steve?” he asked, and Steve nodded quickly, grabbing the comb out of Eddie’s waistband. His fingertips brushed the smooth skin of Eddie’s lower abdomen and Steve was very interested in the way Eddie took a shuddering breath at the contact.
“Yeah, I’m perfect. Just admiring the view,” Steve said with a little smirk. Eddie’s blush was brilliant and the way the corner of his mouth twitched up had Steve’s heart soaring.
Then the hint of a smile turned… cold? It wasn’t mean, but it wasn’t the cute, bashful smile Steve had hoped he’d get.
“Of course, you are, big boy,” Eddie shot back flatly before rolling his eyes and crawling onto the bed, and something sour settled in Steve’s gut. “How do you want me for this, Steve?”
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Steve leaned back against the wall at the head of Eddie’s bed and patted the space between his legs. “Right here, I guess. Or if you want, you can sit on the floor, and I can braid your hair like that?”
At that, Eddie actually scoffed and threw him a raised eyebrow. “You want me on my knees with your hands in my hair, Harrington?” he asked coolly, his knowing smirk very close to something Steve recognized, but on someone else’s face. Then Eddie did that eyeroll of his and something clicked in Steve’s mind, and he barely registered when Eddie said, “I’ll sit in front of you like this.”
Steve just nodded and muttered quiet instructions for Eddie to move his head here and there as he braided Eddie’s hair—he was doing something Max called a Dutch braid because he thought it would be more Eddie’s style than a French braid—but his mind was stuck on the sarcasm, the eyeroll, the flat flirtation.
It reminded him of Carol but not quite. He could just remember all the times she would have some poor sap following her around, trying to get in her good graces, and the way she would flirt before rolling her eyes to Tommy and him. She would laugh at the boys as they walked away, and most of the time Steve could tell that they never realized she was making fun of them.
Once Steve made that association, it forcibly knocked everything that happened between him and Eddie into a new perspective. God, of course just because Eddie was into men didn’t mean he would be into Steve, and here he had been so fucking obvious and pushy with his crush. He was pushy, overbearing, and apparently couldn’t take the very obvious hints that Eddie had been throwing him all along.
And in hindsight, it was very obvious, Steve just never saw it because he thought Eddie wasn’t like that. Steve thought he actually found someone who wanted him as much as he wanted them, found someone who was direct and vocal about what they did and did not want. In the end, Steve never considered that Eddie might be just as petty as other people he knew, that he would be like everyone else who made fun of him for not keeping up. For having to be told everything out loud and in detail. For not taking hints, reading body language, and being too damn much.
Hurt settled deep in Steve’s core, but it was tangled up in an anger so fierce he had to work hard not to accidentally pull Eddie’s hair. The kids had a grace period for being shitty to him, but adults like Eddie? Absolutely not. He'd put up with too much for too long to take it without calling it out, especially if that’s what was happening.
Steve would rather admit his feelings and ruin their entire friendship forever rather than continue something where he was just the butt of another joke he wasn’t in on.
As he reached the end of the braid, Steve realized he didn’t actually have anything to tie it off, but he could see a hair tie on the bedside table. Leaning over, Steve accidentally yanked on Eddie’s braid, and he hissed.
“Damn, Steve, you haven’t even asked for my safeword yet,” Eddie flirted before chuckling as Steve tied off the braid, and something hot and angry flared in his gut and he opened his mouth to tell Eddie to fuck off.
“Are you making fun of me?” Steve asked instead, and he cringed at how embarrassingly small and sad his voice sounded.
The anger that was simmering in his gut was immediately doused by the hurt. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped over Steve’s head and all he had left was the grasping, gnawing want for someone he apparently would never get to have. Suddenly he was standing in a bathroom at a loud Halloween party all over again while the person he loved called him bullshit and said they didn’t love him and never did, and he just wanted to scream about it. Part of Steve wanted to hit something, but he worked very hard to not be that person anymore, so he just balled his fists up in his lap.
“W-what?”
Steve didn’t even realize he was blinking up at the ceiling until he was returning his gaze to Eddie’s face, and the naked confusion Steve saw there was almost comforting.
“Are you making fun of me?” Steve repeated, this time a bit more firmly. “If you’re not—if you’re not interested in me, just say so.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Steve—what?” he asked haltingly, and Steve just ran his hands back through his hair.
“C’mon, Eds, I’m—fuck, Eddie, I’ve been trying so hard to follow Wayne’s advice and give you space, and do what I can to show you I’m—I want you so much and I thought you wanted me, too, but you’re just—” Steve stopped himself as his eyes stung with tears and he pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “If you aren’t actually interested like I thought, just tell me. I don’t think I can take you laughing at me behind my back, too.”
“Stevie—” Eddie started, but the nickname hit Steve deep and he let out a shaky sob.
“Shit,” he said, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, fighting back the tears. Steve didn’t want to cry at all, but especially not in front of Eddie while he wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being laughed at.
Cool hands were on Steve’s cheeks and a weight settled across his lap. “Stevie, please, can you look at me?” And of course, Steve couldn’t deny him anything, even now.
Dropping his hands and tipping his head back against the wall, Steve looked up at Eddie and willed his tears away. Eddie was a lot closer than Steve expected, even knowing the man was in his lap and holding his face gently.
“I think I’ve been missing something because I didn’t—shit, Stevie, I didn’t know,” Eddie insisted earnestly, his rich brown eyes huge as he searched Steve’s face. “I’ve been fucking… I don’t know, pining for you for months, Stevie. Maybe even years, I don’t know, just—”
“I know,” Steve said miserably, his confusion mingling with his hurt in a nauseating mixture in his stomach, turning his eyes skyward as a tear fell. Eddie immediately caught it with his thumb and wiped it away.
“You know?” Eddie asked, his voice tight and Steve nodded, pinching his nose a bit and sucking in a sharp breath.
“Y-yeah, in the hospital, we talked about scars being hot, and you asked me if I would think your scars are hot—Wayne stopped the conversation,” Steve explained around a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to scare you off, so I just—I was hoping you would see that I feel the same way and finally say something.”
“Steve, I’m so sorry, I don’t—I literally don’t remember a lot of the hospital,” Eddie admitted, and Steve laughed.
“Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out,” he said with a sigh, chewing on his lip as he returned his gaze to Eddie’s face. “If you feel the same, why’ve you been pushing me away?”
“Because I’m a coward, Steve. I was running away,” Eddie replied with an explosive sigh, stroking Steve’s cheeks with both thumbs.
“Don’t say you’re a coward, because you’re not,” Steve argued fiercely, hating the way Eddie talked about himself. His interjection just seemed to make Eddie sadder.
“Listen, Steve, I don’t know how much you’ve experienced as a dude into other dudes in a small town like this, but I just—I don’t act on vague gestures, Steve,” he said, and Steve frowned as confusion swirled. “I can’t act on that shit if I want to keep my head from being caved in by angry hicks, okay?”
And that… well, that stung, and Steve felt a moment of frustration at himself for feeling that way. It made sense that Eddie would be afraid; Steve knew exactly what sort of attitudes Eddie would be up against in a town like Hawkins if they knew, or what would happen if Eddie flirted with the wrong guy based on a misunderstanding. Steve got it.
But Steve wasn’t just some guy, he was Eddie’s friend. They almost died multiple times together, Steve helped nurse him back to health. He thought they were close, that Eddie knew he was at least safe to be himself around, even if he didn’t want to be with him.
“Steve?” Eddie pressed, sounding nervous.
Taking a deep breath, Steve nodded a bit. “Th-that makes sense,” he agreed after a few moments, giving a bit of a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just—I’m sorry.”
Eddie’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he asked, his huge eyes wide as Steve met his gaze again.
“For whatever I did that made you feel like I would maybe hurt you,” Steve said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I know I was shitty about this in high school, but I thought I’d turned—”
“Steve, fuck, no! That’s not—shit, okay, start over,” Eddie groaned loudly, tipping his head back to whine a bit. “Jesus H Christ, I hate talking about my feelings. This is so fucking hard.”
“Tell me about it,” Steve teased with a chuckle.
“Can you actually close your eyes and not look at me for this, Stevie? I just—I need to say a bunch of shit and I don’t think I can do that with you looking at me,” he confessed after a few moments of silent thinking.
Without hesitation, Steve closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. “Eyes are closed, not looking at you,” he said quietly and waited.
“I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t hurt me if you found out I was gay, Steve. But there’s—there would be no way to know for sure unless you found out and that not knowing was fucking terrifying,” Eddie said in a rush, and Steve could feel the way he began to shake. “And then there’s—there are guys who say they’re okay with it, but the moment they find out you have feelings for them that’s—the thought that you might be fine with me being gay, but not about my ridiculous crush… I couldn’t risk it.”
Steve could hear the heavy weight of history there, that Eddie wasn’t just talking about a hypothetical scenario he created in his head but a real memory, something formative and traumatic. His heart ached with how badly he wanted to soothe that pain so Eddie never felt like he couldn’t love someone loudly ever again. Of course, he wanted to ask about it, if only because he wanted to know everything about Eddie, and Steve could guess that he would tell him, regardless of how uncomfortable it would make him. That was also a conversation that could happen another time.
Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips, rubbing his thumbs up and down the spurs of his hips. A soft smile came over his face when Eddie jumped at his touch, and Steve sighed with relief when Eddie leaned into it.
“That makes a lot of sense actually,” Steve said, squeezing Eddie’s hips. Then, tentatively, he asked, “Can I hold you?”
Eddie let out a sound that was mostly a sob, but Steve could hear the word ‘yes’ tangled up in it so he quickly wrapped his arms around Eddie and held him tight against his chest. It was still oppressively hot, and they were both sweating, and honestly the way any bare skin that was showing stuck together was unpleasant, but that was alright. It was perfect, because Eddie was in his arms and Steve knew he returned his feelings.
“Can I ask you something, Steve?” Eddie asked as he rested their foreheads together.
“Go ahead,” Steve said instantly, his eyes still closed.
“Why did you think I was making fun of you?” Eddie asked nervously.
Grimacing, Steve shrugged. “I didn’t think you were until today, honestly. It was just—you started rolling your eyes today,” he responded, his mouth twisting. “It reminded me of something someone else would do when she was making fun of guys who had a crush on her.”
“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly and the hands still holding Steve’s cheeks didn’t let him shake his head. “No, don’t, it’s—shit, Steve, I should’ve just not flirted with you. Really tried to have my cake and eat it too with all that.”
Steve let out a bark of laughter, squeezing his arms around Eddie even tighter. Eddie practically melted against him, and Steve desperately wanted to look at him again.
“Eds, can I open my eyes now?” Steve asked and, at Eddie’s little nod, he blinked his eyes open. With Eddie’s forehead against his, their faces were way too close, and Steve felt himself go cross-eyed trying to meet Eddie’s gaze. Laughing, Eddie moved to pull back, but Steve lifted a hand to hold the back of his head, keeping him close as he glanced down at Eddie’s lips.
“Steve?” Eddie asked quietly, his voice soft and tentative, almost unsure.
Sighing, Steve leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips as he asked, “Can I kiss you, Eds?”
There was a moment where Eddie tensed, and Steve was getting ready to apologize when those perfect hands slid further back to tangle in his hair. “Want you to know I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he admitted quietly, and something warm and fond bubbled up in Steve’s chest. “Just because I might suck.”
Steve just smiled and shook his head. “You’ll be perfect, I know you will,” he hummed before guiding Eddie’s lips to his own.
[ TBC ]
[ READ ON AO3 ]
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Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle @scarcrossdlvrs @steddieas-shegoes @steve-harringtits @mylilplanet @afewproblems @xenon-demon @steddie-there @inairbinad @matchingbatbites @starryeyedjanai @scoops-stevie @vecnuthy @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @rugbertgoeshome @estrellami-1 @spectrum-spectre @stobinesque @spicysix @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @sentient-trash @legitcookie @theheadlessphilosopher @corrodedbisexual
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its-the-sa · 3 months
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Different anon. God just boiling down the slugcats to 'animals' angers me in a way I didn't think I could be angry. Yes, they are animals, but by all means they are cognitive and understand complex emotions, communicate with a supposedly complex language, are able to be taught to do things. Why else would the iterators use them as messengers constantly? It's not like they're messenger pigeons where it's just going from point A to point B, they understand exact instructions. If this was just some random animal, making groans and grunts, they wouldn't be able to understand what Five Pebbles even meant when he was explaining how to ascend. Even with the mark, could you imagine if he told a lizard this? Artificer, arguably, is a prime example of this. Just an animal would get over their fallen children, sure they'd grieve but in the end they'd just make more. Arti not only is so enraged by their death, that she is physically incapable of ascension, but also swears vengeance upon a whole other species. This isn't just some animal who lost her children, this is a mother who is enraged at her children's murder. Sure, they aren't on the same level as humans are. Like obviously. But I'd argue it makes sense that a scavenger and a slugcat could fall down the path of enemies to lovers. Especially when you consider the fact that death isn't permanent in Rain World's universe. That would definitely change one's perspective on it. I dunno if I make sense, I'm juggling like three things at once, but I had to say what I needed to say. Wording bad, slugcat smort.
tbh it took me a minute to figure out what this was even referring to, because honestly I don't think that anon meant to use the word 'animal' to dehumanize arti in the first place. it sounded to me like they were just using it as a non-human equivalent for 'person', like "why would anyone fall for a person who committed hate crimes against them?" which is a valid question. it never even occurred to me that they could have meant it in the sense of calling her an inferior creature.
that said... you ARE 100% right and you should say it, lmao.
I very nearly got into this exact argument once, bc i saw some comments from a guy scoffing at the idea of arti showing mercy to baby scavs. because by his logic, 'she is just an animal, so she isn't bound by human morality. in the wild, animals kill any young that don't belong to them without hesitation'. and it just pissed me off so much, because not only was it such an edgy "mercy is for the WEAK!" alpha-male bullshit take, it was also just factually wrong. many animals can and do adopt the young of other animals, even other species, especially when they've just lost their own. and like you said, they can grieve, but then they move on. they keep surviving, and making more babies. they don't dwell on injustice, or let rage consume them to the point that it becomes a hindrance to their own survival. they don't go on single-minded revenge quests. they dont try to justify their own violence by demonizing entire species, and they dont end up plagued by guilt in their sleep. those are very, very human things.
and yeah, i see a lot of people theorize that it's the mark of communication that grants the slugcats higher intelligence, but I don't really buy that either. i think the mark just lets them understand the iterator's language. they must've already had the capacity to understand it, or else it wouldn't work at all. it'd be like trying to install windows on a calculator. also, even without the mark, slugcats are obviously shown to communicate with each other. they have their own culture, they tell stories and make art, and they're apparently able to understand karma and the nature of the cycle at least enough to be able to ascend. so like... any creature thats capable of spiritual enlightenment must at least be sapient, right??
it seems like in the absence of the ancients, both slugcats and scavs are beginning to move in to their niche in the ecosystem
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diagonal-queen · 11 months
Note
HELP I'm sorry but this idea literally got in my head😭😭
What if Manipulative S/o with Chuuya,Dazai and Fyodor?
Them with a manipulative S/O
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♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoyevsky x gn!Reader
♡ synopsis: How are these men with a manipulative partner?
♡ cw: Swearing, manipulation, sexual stuff (Fyodor, you're better than this)
note: Ngl I was stumped with this one for a bit, didn't write a single part of it, and then one night I just wrote the whole damn thing in like ten minutes. Writing's a weird thing sometimes eh? Anyways apologies for errors anon and I hope you enjoy x
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Chuuya:
If you're another mafioso and you use your Machiavellian techniques to interrogate people, Chuuya finds that hot (he's so whipped T-T)
But if you were ever to try and be manipulative with him? He'd probably figure it out relatively quickly and he'd be pretty upset about it. It feels to him as if you think he's unintelligent or something
He also wouldn't be such a fan if you tried to manipulate other members of the Port Mafia (especially if he's close with them like Kouyou)
Chuuya would prefer if you kept it for work and work only, because he values honesty and is more comfortable knowing that you trust him and vice versa
If it's like a trauma response or something though he's more understanding and helps you work on dismantling the habit in healthy and effective ways <3
Unlike the compulsive lying he would NOT consult Mori about this, because let's be real you probably got some of it from him
Eventually Chuuya might take a more passive role and just let you do your thing as long as you leave him out of it. If you're honest with him he'll be happy
Use your manipulation against Dazai (or at least try to)? You got yourself a loyal man for life ✊✊
Dazai:
Y'know that trope when a dude will like dreamily watch their partner with hearts in his eyes as they do some badass shit? That's literally Dazai when you're fucking with people
Especially other members of the ADA oh my god you guys are such menaces (the only one who can see through your bullshit is Ranpo but do you really think he's gonna put in the effort to stop you guys? No. That's what I thought)
But if you were to try and manipulate him, his attitude would change up real quick.
He lowkey takes it as an insult to his intelligence and also takes it pretty personal regardless of who you treat the same way. How can he not? You're literally his partner
You'd learn not to ever try crossing him, in a serious way at least- you'd definitely still play games and tease each other
If you're like super manipulative, even Dazai would have to be like 'hey! stop'. I feel like it would just remind him of his past self and he wouldn't like that
Like Chuuya he also prefers that, when it comes to more serious things, you're honest with him. He wants to be able to trust you
I mean either way he'd be able to catch up with you, so I guess it's not really a practical issue. Just be nice to him, alright?
Fyodor:
I ought to immediately establish that you're literally not getting past this man at all, ever
You will never be able to trick him, lie to him, or have any sway over anything he does at all. That being said, he actually loves the way you are
Fyodor definitely has a god complex and the fact that you can't get anything past him is definitely boosting said god complex. Though he's always like 'nobody gets me I'm too smart' we know that he secretly enjoys being better than everyone else let's be real
He thinks it's cute, but he will very much still give you ~appropriate punishments~ for your bad behaviour
Definitely uses you for the DOA's benefit in some way. Though it would definitely be with your consent because he knows you're not an idiot (and also why wouldn't you be on board tbh)
Sigma is probably a little wary around you because of how similar you are to your boyfriend (and obviously Mykola loves you he's your bestie)
You two definitely play a lot of mind games with one another for entertainment, as well as skill-based games like chess and poker (is that skill based? I've never played it lmao)
In conclusion, power couple of the fucking century
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taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl
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drivergemini · 2 years
Text
nose ring :: e.m. (2)
summary: how does a simple nose piercing turn one cheerleaders life upside down? well if you mix in a few joints, a knack for climbing out windows, and a fluffy haired dungeon master, you got yourself the explanation you were looking for.
content warnings: drug use, mentions of vomit, major swearing (eddie says jesus a lot in this time), lots of pinning, enemies to lovers, y/n is just a spoiled rich asshole (no seriously, less though in this chapter)
word count: 950
| part one |
-
“chrissy i can’t believe you just ran away like that,” y/n put her face into her hands and made a noise of frustration.
the blonde giggled. “i don’t know y/n, the look on your face was kind of worth it.”
y/n rolled her eyes. she looked around and saw everyone still eyeing her down. there were less whispers today, just as many stares though. she was getting sick of it. she got up from the lunch table in frustration. 
and she walked.
and walked.
and walked some more. 
until she ended up at a picnic table in the woods. how the fuck did she even get here? she doesn’t care enough. she sits at the table and puts her head down. in her mind she was silently cursing everyone because how are they so worked up over a nose ring?
“woah y/n skipping class? has the government fallen? is the world going to explode?” she looked up and saw, yet again, the long haired metalhead standing in front of her. he had his hand on his chest like he’s been shot.
“quit your poetic bullshit freak,” she was not happy to see him.
“did i hit a nerve?” eddie laughed. “this is my spot anyways so either suck it up and smoke with me, or you can leave.”
a joint did not sound like a bad idea in the moment. she was stressed and she again did not know her way out of the woods. 
“yeah yeah shut up and hand me a lighter.” y/n rolled her eyes. eddie reached into his pocket and smirked.
-
she had never noticed the many rings on his finger. she tried to study every detail of them.
the same hands she was examining waved in front of her face, forcing her out of thought. “jesus y/n. i know it’s probably your first time getting high but you’re looking at my hands like you’re going to bite them off. and like- not in a good way.”
y/n wanted to say something back but she just pursed her lips. after a few moments of silence she started to giggle. then laugh. and then full on rolling on the floor.
“holy shit you are so baked right now,” eddie smiled at the sight in front of him. 
y/n sat up, leaves stuck on her uniform. her face instantly changed from the happy look before to a look of fear. “i think- mmmmmm.” she laid back onto the forest floor. “i think im gonnathrowup.” the last part sounded like word vomit because she was actually gonna vomit. 
eddie stood from his seat and walked over to her with his backpack. he started pulling out water and crackers from his bag. “ummmm- here you need to sit up and eat these.” y/n reluctantly grabbed a few crackers from him. “oh and water you need to drink water.”
eddie watched the girl slowly munch on the crackers, eyes looking less sunken by the minute. he figured it would be okay to turn around for one second to grab the rest of his stuff from the picnic table. until he turned back around to her sleeping on the floor, clutching a half eaten cracker in her hand. 
“jesus h. christ,” he looked around reluctantly and seriously hoped no one is around. he approached her and took the cracker from his hand. he gagged at the feeling of the moist cracker squishing in his hand. “ew it’s fucking moist. what is she a baby?”
he took one deep breath and scooped her up. he flung her over his shoulder and proceeded to take a long walk back to the high school.
-
y/n woke up with an impending feeling of doom. she didn’t know where the hell she was, but judging on the smell of weed and the leather jacket draped over her legs, she could only assume one place. the back of eddie munson’s van. she looked out the window to see the sky outside was getting to a dusty grey color. 
“what time is it?” she rubbed her eyes. she was met back with silence. there was no one else in the car with her. she tried to think back on how she got here. all she remembers is eating crackers in the woods. at least she didn’t get kidnapped.
her train of thought was interrupted when the drivers side door opens. eddie peaks his head in the back before sitting before the steering wheel.
“eddie seriously, you don’t have to tell me what happens next but can you at least give me a hint?” y/n heard another voice approaching. they opened the passenger side and sat down.
“henderson i told you. it’s not fair if i give you a hint,” eddie raised his hands up and put finger quotes around ‘hint’.
y/n sat up as eddie turned his keys into the ignition. “so hey eddie could you take me home?” her head was pounding in ways she couldn’t describe. she couldn’t even think of one snarky comment.
“holy fuck- jesus christ- eddie what the fuck?!” the young boy in the passenger seat turned his head in fear and looked at y/n. i guess he wasn’t aware that she were back there. “eddie why the fuck is there a cheerleader in the back of your van.”
eddie ignored the fluffy headed child and spoke directly to her. “yeah you live on wallington right?” 
“yeah yeah it’s the blue house with the rose bush.” she says back holding back a little vomit. 
the kid just stared at her wide eyed, making incoherent noises towards her and eddie. eddie’s face was plastered with a smirk the whole way to your house.
****
taglist: @ lj127
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mymoodwriting · 11 months
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Request for Anon (Werewolf Baekhyun) 3.3k, A/B/O, fighting, verbal abuse, drinking, intoxication, tipsy behavior, kidnapping, drugs, restraints, pheromones, smut, non-con, dub-con, biting, blood, marking, intimidation, implied pregnancy, yandere (@starillusion13)
“You’re an omega, and you’re mine.”
     You wanted to slap Baekhyun, you tried, but he grabbed your hand. When you tried to pull away he held on tighter, and you threw a sharp glare his way. You two had been friends for as long as you could remember, basically growing up together, but as of late he had changed. He always seemed to have an attitude around you, especially when others were around. You chalked it up to the fact he finally presented, and turned out to be an alpha. You were happy for him, but you also understood that came with its own burden. So you let some things slide, but this was where you drew the line. You were out with friends, and as the night dragged on he started getting handsy with you. Throughout all those years you had never seen him as anything more than a friend, so you stopped him, which only pissed him off.
“What is wrong with you!”
“I am telling you the truth!”
“My birthday is still months away, and I haven’t presented yet! I’m not an omega, let alone yours.”
“You are! I can tell.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know. You’re an omega.”
“I am not! My family mostly consists of alphas and betas. There hasn’t been an omega in generations and it’s not gonna be me!”
“Y/n-”
“Shut up!” You pulled your arm free. “I have had enough of your attitude, and this stupid idea in your head finally puts it into perspective. I’m not some lowly omega that needs protection from an alpha! And I don’t belong to you either!”
“Listen to me, I-”
“No! I’m not tolerating your bullshit anymore.” You took a breath. “I’m sure being an alpha has its own things to figure out, so you do that, and let me know when you stop being a dick.”
     You walked off without a word, swearing you’d hit him if he tried anything, but he knew better this time. You never thought you’d fight with him, he was always a good friend to you, but this was something else. You wanted to be understanding, but you needed to do what was best for you as well. You didn’t hear from him for weeks, which really worried you, but you weren’t going to reach out to check on him. This was something he needed to figure out on his own. You weren’t sure when you’d hear from him, but a week leading up to your birthday you got a call from him. You were nervous to answer, but you owed him that much.
“Hello?”
“Hey… how’ve you been?”
“Fine for the most part, and you?”
“Me too. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I owe you an apology.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I should do it in person. Are you free anytime soon?”
“I have some time tomorrow.”
“After your classes?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Sure.” 
     All this time you felt like you had been holding your breath, that after all these years you had lost a close friend. Hearing his voice again was a relief, especially since it seemed he had gotten his senses back. Still, you’d have to wait and see if anything had really become of him. So the next day you kinda dreaded your last class, dreaded seeing him for fear things couldn’t go back to the way they were. You had to see him eventually though, so it was better to do it now and rip off the band aid. After class you found Baekhyun waiting for you. He offered you a quick smile but saw your expressionless face and dropped it. He followed you as you went off somewhere so you two could talk in private.
“Did your classes go well today?”
“Same old, same old. How have you been?”
“Good. I’ve done a lot of thinking lately… I can’t excuse my actions, only apologize for them.”
“Yeah.”
“I was a dick, I don’t even know what was going on in my own head. A lot changed for me, and I couldn’t keep myself in check. I’m really sorry you had to witness such a part of me, and I’ll do better to make sure you never do.”
“Is that it?”
“I mean, no amount of words can change what I did, but I’m hoping we can get over this hurdle together, or at least start over.”
“You were such an asshole.”
“I know…”
“And you’re done with that shit?”
“Yes. I never should have treated you that way. I don’t know what was going on with me.”
“Neither do I. Now if you ever pull that shit again, I will not forgive you.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” You took a breath. “Have you seriously been okay?”
“I’ve been doing my best, but there’s a lot going on with me.”
“How’s the family then? You being an alpha and all that. I mean, that’s most of your family anyway.”
“I’ve talked with them a lot. They’re happy I’m an alpha, but there are definitely things I need to be aware of.”
“No shit. Maybe if I’m an alpha too you can let me know.”
“Definitely.”
     Things couldn’t go back to how they used to be, but he was still your friend. Sometimes you could see him slipping back into that possessive behavior, but he composed himself well enough. He was doing better, which was the important thing. So when your birthday party rolled around you trust him to behave himself. Besides, it was your day of celebration, and you were going to enjoy yourself. So a night out at the club, endless drinks and a VIP room full of dancers, best birthday for sure.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough.”
     You were dancing around, clearly already gone for the night. Some of your friends had already gone home, so only a few were left hanging on. Although at this point it was safe to say someone had to end things before you all passed out. That someone was Baekhyun, having remained mostly sober to keep an eye on himself and everyone else. Now he was getting people in cars and sending them on their way. In the end it was just the two of you out on the streets.
“Taxi!” You danced off the curb. “Taxi!”
“No, no, come here.” Baekhyun grabbed you and pulled you back onto the sidewalk. “I’m taking you home, okay?”
“Nuh-uh, you can’t drive.”
“Yes, I can. I didn’t really drink.”
“Prove it.”
“I don’t think I can with you in this state. Come on now.”
     Baekhyun carefully led you over to his car, getting you into the passenger seat and getting your seat belt on. You leaned your head against the glass, Baekhyun getting into the car and driving off.
“Did you have fun?”
“The best…” You giggled. “And you?”
“It was a good night. Get some rest, I’ll wake you when we arrive, and please don’t throw up in my car.”
“No promises…”
     You shut your eyes and let the soft rumble of the car lull you to sleep. You figured you’d be out for a little bit and get some help going inside the house, but when you woke up you felt way more hungover than you thought. You got up, needing a second to realize you were in bed, and needing another to realize this wasn’t your room. The panic sobered you up real quick, but then you recognized the room as Baekhyun’s and calmed down. Although now that made you question why you were at his place. The hangover was starting to hit again, but you managed to get on your feet and go looking for Baekhyun.
“Ya! Baekhyun.” You mumbled. “Baekhyun… why am I here…”
     You managed to find the boy in the kitchen, sat down at the counter eating breakfast. Once he saw you stumbling around he got up and helped you take a seat.
“How’d you manage to get up?”
“Panic… why am I at your place? You said you were going to take me home.”
“I did take you home, to mine that is.”
“Baekhyun.”
“I was tired and my place was closer anyway. I’ll take you home now, after you have breakfast and recover from the hangover.”
“You better.”
     Baekhyun made you a quick breakfast. He was a pretty decent cook, and it was nice to try his food. It had been a while since you last spent time together like that.
“Here. A hangover cure.” Baekhyun handed you a glass. “You’ll feel better.”
“Already do, so thanks.”
     You chugged down the contents of the drink, knowing it was better to get it over with quickly. It didn’t taste bad thankfully, but still made you shiver.
“I���ll get my things and we can go.”
“Sure.”
     You got up, stretching for a moment and then heading back over to the bedroom to grab your belongings. When you returned Baekhyun was exactly where you had left him.
“Alright, we can-”
    You suddenly felt dizzy, grabbing your head and stumbling back a few steps. Baekhyun watched you for a moment and then got up, taking you into his arms so you wouldn’t fall.
“Baekhyun… what’s going on…”
“Just a little something to help.”
    He led you back down the hall towards the bedroom, although when your legs have out he had no problem picking you up and carrying. Your vision kept fading in and out, and you were feeling hot all over. Words were becoming difficult as well, but you still tried. Baekhyun just found you cute, laying you down on the bed. Then you realized he was tying your arms down.
“… what… what are you…”
“I know you still don’t believe me, and that’s fine, but I’m still worried about you. Since you’ve come of age you can present any day now, and I didn’t like the idea of me not being there for it. So I thought I should speed up the process, and this way I’ll be here to look after you.”
“Baekhyun…”
“It should only take a couple hours, so don’t worry.”
“Let… me… go…”
“Definitely can’t do that now. Someone else might want to claim you if they find you in such a state.”
“Why… why…”
“I told you. You’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone else have you. Just try to relax.”
“Baekhyun!”
    You tugged on the ropes, but you barely had any strength left. Your head was spinning and you could barely make out Baekhyun sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you. It hurt, not just your body, but your heart. You had been worried about Baekhyun, and you desperately wanted things to go back to normal that you let him back into your life without being cautious, without letting others know what he had been saying lately. It was getting harder and harder to think, and you could feel your body shutting down to deal with the changes being forced on you. If you could fight it you would, but you didn't even know what was happening. So in the end the darkness swallowed you, and your feelings of fear with it.
🖤
     When you opened your eyes you felt so out of it, barely managing to stay conscious. Your body was shaking, and you felt very hot. You soon found out you were still tied up, and once again tried to free yourself, but it was useless.
“Baekhyun…”
     You didn’t feel so good, you felt sick, and in the moment you didn’t want to be alone. It wasn’t long before you made out Baekhyun in your field of vision. He was sitting by the edge of the bed, his palm against your head.
“You have a fever.” You whined which made him chuckle. “It’s normal to be sick when you present.”
“Huh?”
“I told you that you’re an omega, and it’s all the more obvious now.”
“No… no what… what did you… do…”
“Just helped you awaken your true nature.”
“I’m not… an omega…”
“You can’t deny that now.”
“… home… I wanna…”
“I can’t take you home like this, besides what would your family think? There hasn’t been an omega in generations.” You whimpered. “It’s okay, I’m going to take care of you. I’m sure they’ll be relieved to know that.”
“No… no… I’m not…”
“The fever will pass on its own, but I’m not sure about the other things. They say omegas are pretty delicate, which is why it’s so important to claim one.”
“… go… away…”
“But you called for your alpha earlier.”
“… you’re not…”
“I am. I’ll go get you something for the fever.”
      Once he was gone you began tossing about, wanting to get free. You focused your energy on the rope, trying to untie it, but Baekhyun soon came back and stopped you.
“Is it bothering you?”
“Um…”
“I suppose you don’t need that right now.”
     Baekhyun untied you and helped you sit up, trying to give you some medicine. You refused though, not wanting to take anything from him anymore. He pet your head softly, finding your rebellious acts cute.
“This will make the fever go down and help things settle.”
“I’m not… an omega…”
“You know that’s not true. You can feel it, can’t you?”
“No… you did something…”
“You know there’s no way to change what you are. You can hide it or suppress it, but you can’t change it.”
     You knew all that was true, but you didn’t want to believe him. It wasn’t just about his betrayal, or what he had done, but what this all meant for you. Baekhyun seemed to know what you were thinking, pulling you into his arms despite your protests. He held the back of your head, rocking you softly to the sides, trying to sooth you.
“Sh, sh, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna look at you differently or anything like that. You’re still y/n to me.”
“It’s not… I can’t…”
“We don’t choose these things.”
    You didn’t know how you were gonna face your family. You weren’t sure you wanted to. This all felt more like a nightmare and you desperately wanted to wake up. If that was the case you felt you would have already woken up, but all this felt way too real. You don’t know when you started crying, but the tears weren’t going to stop easily. So you sobbed into Baekhyun’s chest, letting all your thoughts overwhelm you. That is until something else caught your attention. As you were coming down from the tears you began to notice something. 
    Baekhyun smelled very different. You carefully moved your head up into the crook of his neck, taking in a breath. You never really paid attention to the scents of your friends. You could tell them apart but you never really took them in to know them better. Although you could tell that Baekhyun’s had changed, again. When he had become an alpha you noticed the change, but this was something else entirely. He smelled sweeter, and you couldn’t help yourself, wanting to take in more. Of course Baekhyun noticed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
“What is it?”
“You… you smell…”
“Nice?”
“Hm…”
“They say the scent of an alpha is sweeter to an omega, and vice versa. I certainly know that’s the case.”
“… why…”
“Cause alphas and omegas get along better. We’ve always gotten along so well, even before all this. I guess we were meant to be.”
“That’s not fair…”
“I’d call it destiny.” Baekhyun took a moment. “You’re still burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should still take something to make it easier… or I could help.”
“Help?”
“I told you it’s important for an omega to get claimed. I have no problem doing that now.”
     Baekhyun pulled you back a bit, pressing a kiss to your cheek. From there his lips trailed down your neck. Despite the heat and uncomfortableness, his mouth was a sweet relief against your skin. You didn’t want him to stop, and he had no intention of doing so. He knew you were already so high off his scent alone, and in this state you were all the more sensitive. Of course you weren’t the only one being affected. Baekhyun had been holding himself together, but now that he had you so close he couldn’t help himself either. Without asking permission he began to tear up your clothes.
     At that point it was hard to keep anything straight in your head. One minute Baekhyun was kissing down your chest, the next thing you knew you were lying beneath him with less clothing. Your vision was a bit hazy but you could see Baekhyun clearly. He had always been a friend in your mind, but now you thought of something else, of something more. Everything about him was different in your eyes. Your mind taking in the little things and feeling your heart flutter. The feeling only grew more and more as your body was accepting all his attention. 
    Even if you went out clubbing with friends you had never gone home with someone, or showed interest in hookups, so this would be your first. Baekhyun would be the one to take it all, and you knew at that moment you would never give it to anyone else. Your mind was so lost in his everything you didn’t realize the fangs, not until you felt a sharp pain in the crook of your neck. Your eyes went wide and you screamed, the smell of blood hitting your nose soon after. When Baekhyun pulled away you could see his bloody mouth.
“Couldn’t help myself…”
“Baekhyun…”
“No one else can have you.”
     There was a sharpness to his tone, almost like a warning. His one and only time saying this to you, and if you ever forgot it, there would be consequences. You couldn’t comprehend on the surface, but deep down you got the message. He wasn’t done here though, far from it. Baekhyun took off his own shirt, getting rid of the rest of your clothing and his in the process. You made a move to cover yourself, feeling exposed, but he stopped you, holding your hands above your head.
“Don’t hide from me. You’re perfect just like this, and I’ll make you even better.”
🖤
     If anyone asked you to recount that night, your first, the day you were mated, you probably couldn’t tell them anything about it. There was just a mix of heat and blood and pleasure. Your body would never forget, and neither would your soul, even if your mind was completely blank. Baekhyun wouldn’t say anything either, loving to have this secret to himself and to a degree you. All you did know was waking up in his arms, feeling safe, feeling loved. Your future was still uncertain, but you were alright there and then.
“Awake?”
“Hm…”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired…”
“Well the fever’s down, so I think the worst of it is over.”
“I guess…”
“Sh, take it easy.”
“I feel tingly…”
“That might be the bite.”
“Bite… yeah… you bit me…”
“You still need to bite me back.”
“Hm…”
“Better now before you find out you’re pregnant.”
“What!”
“What? You don’t remember how much we did it? If I didn’t put a baby in you we’re gonna have to try again.”
“Baekhyun, I can’t-”
     You jumped up and away from Baekhyun, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back down. He pet your head softly, immediately soothing your worries.
“It’s much easier for an omega to get pregnant, especially when they just presented. It’s only natural for you, for us.”
“Us… you really planned this all out, didn’t you?”
“Can you blame me? I’ve always looked after you, I wasn’t gonna let anyone else do that.”
“There were better ways…”
“You wouldn’t listen.”
“You were a prick.”
“Perhaps…”
“No you were.”
“Sh, sh, you should go back to sleep. We can talk more later, and finish things up properly too.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t worry. I got you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“Thanks… I suppose…”
“It’s always been you and me. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
(II)
127 notes · View notes
giggly-squiggily · 1 year
Note
For the sake of my sanegiyu heart i would like to request lee giyu and ler sanemi if that's alright with you
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I’ve gotcha covered, anons! Ahh, my Sanegiyuu heart is soaring right now! I hope y’all like it!
Cloud 9 (Taglist):
@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san
“I don’t know, you’re kind of cute.”
“What?” Sanemi looked at him.
“What?” Giyu looked back.
~~~
“That oversized rock of a freaking Hashira- where the hell does he get off!” Sanemi fumed as he stormed into the scene. Giyu, who had been waiting for his training partner to arrive, snapped to attention, blinking away the beginnings of sleep.
“Hello, Shinazugawa-san.” He nodded. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Sanemi snarled, going to get his wooden sword. “Come on, let’s do this.”
Giyu didn’t move, eyes narrowing.
“What are you-” Sanemi blinked, staring back at the glare. “What?”
Silence.
“Come on, Tomioka!”
More silence.
“Ehh…Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Sanemi ran a hand through his hair, cheeks reddening. “Will you train with me?”
“Thank you. I will.” Giyu nodded, standing to gather his things. “What’s got you so upset today anyway?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.” Sanemi waved off the other’s concern, taking a stance. “Just focus on trying not to die.”
“Sounds like Tengen made you mad.” Giyu spoke as he struck, their wooden weapons making a loud crack. “You normally don’t call people ‘oversized rocks’”.
“Shut up and focus-'' Sanemi dodged a well aimed jab, bringing his sword down. Giyu twisted out of range just in time. “I don’t care about that jerk!”
“So he did make you mad.” Giyu hummed, moving forward on the defensive. “Tengen likes to do that. He’s rather provoking, yes?”
“I don’t want to talk about that piece of-” Sanemi distanced himself, blocking another attack. “Damn, you’re better today.”
“No, you’re just too mad to focus.” Giyu replied calmly, going for another swing. Then Sanemi did the unthinkable.
Dropping low, he tossed his sword aside before kicking Giyu’s leg out. The water Hashira yelped as he tumbled back- the front of his uniform grabbed by a scarred hand as he was dropped to the ground, Sanemi on top.
“I told you to drop it.” Sanemi growled, inches from his face.
“I don’t want to.” Giyu raised a stubborn chin. A centimeter closer and he could have kissed the other.
Wait…what?
Sanemi, as if realizing the same thing, sat up quickly. “Well, I do. Forget about that- I came here to get away from that stupid oaf and his bullshit.” Sanemi sounded gruff, his cheeks still noticeably pink.
“You swear a lot.” Giyu sat up as well, resting on his elbows as he furrowed his brow. “You do that more when you're really angry.”
“Tomioka-”
“If you're angry, you can’t focus. If you can’t focus, then we’re wasting time training.” Giyu replied calmly. “Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help.”
“Tch. You, help me?” Sanemi almost laughed at the idea. When he saw the other’s face fall, he lowered his head with a groan. “Fine, fine you win. I…got into a fight with Tengen.”
“Figured.” Giyu replied, earning a side eye. “Continue.” Giyu gestured him on.
“He was being annoying as usual- talking about his wives and all that. I politely told him-”
“Politely?” Giyu blinked.
“Do you want me to break your jaw or not?” Sanemi growled. Giyu pressed his lips shut.
“Anyway, I told him to shut the hell up because he was being loud and obnoxious. He then told me he pitied me because I’d probably die alone!” Sanemi gritted his teeth, clearly pissed. “Me! Die alone! As if he went out and wooed any of the wives he has! They were all picked for him!”
“I think Suma volunteered…” Giyu’s comment was lost in Sanemi’s anger.
“He then told me I’d probably scare off anyone who looks my way! He said I look like a bridge troll! A BRIDGE TROLL!” Sanemi crossed his arms with a huff, glaring into the horizon. “I am way better than any bridge troll…”
“I don’t know, I think you’re kinda cute.”
“What?” Sanemi turned back.
“What?” Giyu looked back before averting his gaze. Damn- of all the times for Sanemi to pay attention.
“No, not what. What did you just say?” Sanemi asked again, eyes narrowing. “You just said something, didn’t you?”
“No, nothing at all.” Giyu waved him off. “It was the wind.”
“I am the wind.”
“Okay, Fujin.”
“Tch- you son of a-” Sanemi glared, clearly irritated. ‘Come on- walk away.’ Giyu internally begged. ‘Leave.’
Instead of doing so, Sanemi’s gaze turned suspicious. He scooted back on Giyu’s hips, reaching down and jabbing his side. “Tell me.”
“Eh! What are you doing?” Giyu flinched, unprepared for the sudden poke.
“I said tell me.” Sanemi jabbed him again, moving up so he was aiming for ribs. “I want to know.”
“There’s nothing to tell- ah! Stop that.” Giyu went to grab his hand, but Sanemi was faster, taking his wrist and pushing it over his head. “Sanemi!”
“Oh, we’re finally on a first name basis now, are we?” Sanemi grinned, clearly pleased. “Finally got off that high horse of yours?” He poked him again and again, growing amused at Giyu’s squirming. “Tell me what you said!”
“It’s nohothing! Sanemi, get oohohoff!” Giyu arched when those fingers moved towards the back of his ribs, starting to claw. “Dooohohhon’t tickle mhehehe!”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I won’t stop until you tell me what you said!” Sanemi pinched at his shoulder blade. “Come on, make this easier on yourself.”
Giyu squeaked beneath him, squirming too and from as Sanemi went for some of his worst spots. Were ticklish shoulder blades a thing? He supposed they were now. “Sahahahahahanemihihihihi, cuhuhuhuhut it ohohohohohohut!”
“Not until you tell me what you said. Give in, Giyu; make things easier on yourself.” Hearing his name spoken by the other made him flush for an entirely new reason. He had to get out of this. With one last resort, he shoved forward and-
“AH! Ahehehehhahahha! Hehehey, yohohohu can’t dohooho thahhahat!” Sanemi doubled over in a fit of giggles, reaching for the hand currently clawing at his belly. “Nohohohoho wahahhahahit!”
“So I’m not the only one who’s ticklish.” Giyu sounded smug. “Good to know.”
“Yoohohohohu shut your mouhuhuhuhhuth!” Sanemi snorted through his giggle fits, bringing the hand holding Giyu’s wrist down so he could squeeze beneath his ribs, making the brunette shriek with laughter. His hands immediately retracted to Sanemi’s wrists, struggling to pull them away. “There, that’s what I wanted to see.”
“SAHAHHAHANEMIHIHIHIIHI!” Giyu cried out, head thrown back and feet kicking helplessly against the dirt ground. There was no way he could keep going. “FIIHIIIHIHNE I’LL TEHHEHEHELL YOOHOHOHOU!”
“Promise?” Sanemi asked.
“PROHOOHOHMISE!”
“....Really promise?”
“SAHHAHAHNEMI!”
“Hehe, okay okay.” The wind Hashira finally stopped, pulling his hands back and letting them rest comfortably on Giyu’s stomach. “So, ready to tell me? Or are we gonna go for round 2?” He pressed gently into the soft skin, making Giyu shiver with a breathless giggle.
“I’ll talk…hahaang on…” Giyu huffed out, running a hand through his bangs. Finally, when he felt like he could speak, he dared to meet Sanemi’s gaze. “I said…you’re kind of cute.”
Sanemi seemed to freeze at the statement, eyes wide.
The silence that followed felt agonizing. Giyu regretted opening his mouth.
“Sorry…forget I said anything.” He began to wiggle away, but Sanemi’s hand on his chest stopped him in his tracks.
“Wait…wait- give me a second.” Sanemi looked and sounded flustered; face flushed as he shoved a hand through his bangs. “You…you mean that? Seriously?”
“I do…I wouldn’t joke about things like that.” Giyu nodded, feeling his own face start to burn. His heart was racing a mile a minute. He briefly wondered if Sanemi’s was doing the same.
“Heh…wow, okay.” Sanemi cleared his throat. Then a second time. Despite his best efforts, the blush remained, along with the beginning of a warm smile. “Thank you…hey wait a second!” He turned with a glare. “What the hell do you mean ‘kinda’?”
“I mean…for a bridge troll you're fairly cute.” Giyu shrugged, giggling when Sanemi mock gasped.
“Oh you little shit-” Sanemi’s fingers dug into his stomach, making Giyu squeal and cackle once more. “Take that back! Take it!”
“Fihihihine fihihihine you’re cuuhuuhute! Yohoohohur more thahahahahn cuhuhuhuhute!” Giyu cried out, pawing at the other’s hands. “Yoohohohohur’re hoohohohohot!”
“Damn right I am!” Sanemi grinned as he stopped once more, watching Giyu gasp for air. “Don’t you forget it!”
‘Eheh…hehehe…I’m suuhuhure you wohoohn’t let mehehe.” Giyu groaned, earning another small yet warm smile. Then Sanemi did the unexpected.
Leaning down, he pressed a quick peck to Giyu’s lips, daring a grin when the other flushed scarlet. “Just so you know…I think you’re pretty cute too.”
Sword practice was long forgotten after that.
Thanks for reading!
127 notes · View notes
delopsia · 2 years
Text
About Damn Time | Max Brinly X Reader
Good evening, I've been inactive for 6 months but I'm back on my bullshit. Can someone tell me why the FUCK Max is built like that? I'm too lazy to write a full-fledged thing but I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here's,,,whatever the fuck this is ig.
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Word Count: 3,400 Warnings: Swearing & NSFW content ahead. The end of this is literally just straight smut. I'm not sorry ✨
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Your initial application to work at Hackett's Quarry summer camp was rejected, much to your dismay. But, as luck would have it, you got a phone call exactly a week after summer camp started, asking if you were still up for the position. The person who got your job had fallen and broken her ankle, and someone could pick you up as early as the following day.
The next thing you know, you're sitting on your suitcase in a Waffle House parking lot, watching a stray feline chow down on your leftover breakfast. You can't remember the last time you saw the town this quiet, deserted. It's too early for any sane soul to be awake; the poor Waffle House employee wasn't even awake when you initially showed up.
You're beginning to wonder if this Max guy is even real. Maybe this is a mean prank being played on you by a counselor who found your resume, or perhaps Max has wrecked his car and is dead in a ditch somewhere. You've been in this parking lot for over an hour now, long enough for the Waffle House employee to resume her slumber in an unsuspecting booth and long enough to befriend the resident silver tabby, honorarily named Waffles.
The light of God himself strikes your eyes as an old-school Jeep Wagoneer rolls into the parking lot, and a man about your age steps out of the vehicle.
If your ride is already this good-looking, you can't imagine how hot the rest of your new coworkers must be.
He introduces himself to you as Max Brinly, apologizing for how late he is. "I took a wrong turn 20 miles ago and ended up in the wrong city," he explains, lifting your heavy suitcase as if it weighs nothing. You're just about as surprised by that as when he opens the passenger door for you, shutting it once you've settled inside.
You're about halfway to the quarry when a bundle of fur jumps over the seat. Max just about veers off the side of the road. "Waffles?" "Did you seriously just bring your cat to camp?"
It's a miracle, but somehow you, Max, and Waffles arrive at Hackett's Quarry summer camp by the time the sun has come up. Mr. H isn't thrilled about your stowaway, but a girl you later come to know as Abigail comes running up, and nobody has the heart to call animal control to have the cat removed.
Despite your late arrival, you settle in rather quickly. Your new coworkers are impossibly sweet, and someone is almost always in your office, either taking a break from the screaming counselors or paying you and Counselor Waffles a visit.
The first time Max shows up at your door, shirtless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your life just about flashes before your eyes. He has absolutely no right to be built like that. It turns out he's injured his shoulder, and it's all you can do to not stare at the muscles that ripple under his skin. You absolutely do not notice how his v-line disappears under his swim trunks, and you certainly do not see how his hand nearly encompasses yours when he takes the ibuprofen from your open palm.
You don't think much of it at first. But then Max is coming back the next day asking you to recheck it; two days later, he's cut his palm, and the day after, he has a migraine that conveniently keeps coming around right as your shift ends.
"You know you don't have to have an injury to come and talk to me, right?" "Oh, uhm...how did you...figure that out?" As if pretending to take the ibuprofen and then stuffing it in his pocket wasn't a noticeable act. And just like that, the headache stop, and your office is rapidly becoming his second home.
Every few days, a kid will show up, happily declaring that Counselor Max has sent them to bring you something, and it's always something different. A rock shaped like a boot, a treat for Counselor Waffles, hell, one day, he sends you a basket of pinecones to see what you'll say. You begin to look forward to his gifts; your heart skips in your chest every time a kid totters in with a peculiar object.
There's one particular day when your office is empty, and you take advantage of it by taking a long walk through the forest, blissfully unaware of the storm clouds overhead. Once the rain starts, it pours. Umbrella-less and alone, you're forced to walk through the freezing rain, suddenly all too understanding why Waffles refused to come outside today. Max finds you at the boathouse and welcomes you in with open arms, quite literally.
"C'mere," he cooes, wrapping you into a tight, tight hug, "you have to be freezing, sweetheart." If it isn't his words that don't kill you, it's the mind-numbing realization that he does not have a shirt on. You can't bring yourself to oppose. You're shivering so bad that you can't even speak; all you can do is wrap your arms around him and thank the heavens above that Max is a walking furnace.
Max is slow in guiding you to the rickety recliner in the boathouse office. It's dusty and reeks of mildew, but Max is clouding so many of your senses that you barely notice. You're settled in his lap, straddling his thighs as your chin rests against his shoulder.
Impossibly warm hands travel up your soaked shirt, "I know this sounds strange, but you should take this off; it'll only make you colder," pause, and then, "I'll give you one of mine."
And that's how you find yourself tugging your wet shirt off while still settling in Max's lap. He tries to help, but the extra hands make it all the more confusing.
"I've got it," you can't help but giggle as you finally wriggle out of the wet shirt, tossing it to the side. One of Max's hands land on your hip; he doesn't seem to do it intentionally, but fuck, if it doesn't make your mind wander to places it shouldn't. His fingers are so long — nope, no, you shouldn't be thinking like this.
Before long, you're cozy in Max's shirt, cuddled up to his side as the two of you wait for the rain to stop. You don't realize quite how big it is on you until you're walking back, and it hits you that his shirt ends at your mid-thigh. You're pretty warm now that the sun has come out, but Max has his arm draped around your shoulders because he thinks you're still cold, and you feel so safe and warm that you can't bring yourself to shrug him off.
Max doesn't ask for his shirt back; you're thrilled because it's quickly become your favorite thing to wear.
As if a dam had broken, Max becomes touchier overnight. At breakfast, he's got a hand drawing circles into your shoulder, sits you in his lap when there's no space left at the campfire, and insists that he give you a piggy-back ride after an exhausting day of boating. And if he isn't touching you, he's following you around like a lost puppy until Mr. H scolds him for not working.
Emma catches on much faster than you do.
"You're falling for him," she observes, lips wrapped around a straw of freshly brewed sweet tea, courtesy of Nick. Her observation catches you so off guard that you nearly choke.
"Who?" The word is so heavy on your tongue that you're surprised when you don't immediately sink into the ground, never to be seen again.
She needn't say a thing because Max comes bounding around the corner behind Jacob, giddy like they'd gotten away with murder. "Still wearing my shirt, I see," Max observes, as if Emma needs any more ammunition to use against you.
Despite how touchy-feely the two of you get, neither of you dare go any further than cuddling by the campfire, and that one time you fell asleep on the recliner, and nobody bothered to wake you.
The last thing you remember was sitting on the arm of the recliner while Ryan rehearsed one of his newly written ghost stories. You wake up early the following day, settled into the couch with a heavy weight on your chest. It's Max, head resting on your shoulder and his body somehow tucked between your legs. You're not sure how he got there, but there's an ache in your hips and a strange pressure between your legs that you can't quite identify. It takes your sleep-filled brain more than a few minutes to figure out what it is.
As soon as it hits you, your cheeks light up in flames. Your attempt to worm your way out of your situation is futile, Max is heavy, and your squirming only makes him shift closer to you. If you couldn't feel it before, you can feel it now — hard cock pressing directly into your core. Between that and the hot breath against your neck, you're torn between heaven and hell.
Max wakes not long after, doesn't realize where he's at until he sits up, cock rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot, and you whine. His breath hitches at the sight of you, legs stretched around his hips, pink-cheeked and panting. He lingers, doesn't step away but doesn't move either.
"Max," your voice is hoarse, but it's enough to break him from his trance. "Sorry," he pulls himself away, mindful not to justle your already aching hips. It takes you a minute to be able to stand, and despite his inability to meet your eye, Max carries you back to the lodges.
Emma is far too excited for her own good, cheering when she sees you waddle into your lodge. "He really did a number on you!" "I wish that was the reason." It takes you a whole day to be able to walk without pain, and in the wise words of Jacob, "he could have at least fucked you if he was gonna have you walking around camp funny." You wish you didn't agree as much as you did.
Max is distant all of a sudden. It confuses everyone just as much as it does you. Nick and Dylan quickly reveal that Max has a thing for you, making it all the more strange that he's gone cold after something so minuscule.
It stays that way for a few days until Jacob gets an idea. Emma formulates the plan. You're left in the dark, unsure if you even want to know.
Max comes around five days after the recliner incident, shirtless and sulking on the bed as you pry a splinter out from under his fingernail. "I'm sorry for avoiding you," he mutters, meeting your eye for the first time in almost a week. You want to hold a grudge, but it's impossible when he looks at you like that. Just like that, you've got your friend back, like nothing ever happened.
A few weeks later, Emma and Jacob's plan goes into action. The four of you are on the island, up in the treehouse, looking for a lost action figure one of the campers left. Emma announces that she and Jacob are rechecking the docks, and you don't think much of it until you reach for the door and learn it's locked from the outside.
There is no action figure. You and Max tear apart the treehouse, from top to bottom, and the closest thing you find is a toy racecar. Max is strangely quiet and doesn't make much noise other than humming when you say something. Acknowledging that you're speaking but not engaging.
"Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?"
No response; you're not sure why you're surprised. It feels too quiet between Max's apparent refusal to speak and the lack of screaming children. You've become so used to the constant noise over the past two months that silence has become foreign.
"They left a note," he begins dryly, "it said, and I quote, "Hi losers, have sex, and we'll let you out. Love, Emma and Jacob'."
"They planned all week for that?" You scoff, reaching for the note when he hands it to you—Jacob's handwriting.
Max's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, "you knew about this?"
"I knew they started planning something devious when you started avoiding me," you shrug, tracing the poorly drawn heart on the sticky note, "to be completely honest with you, I forgot all about it."
"I wasn't..." Max stands up from his spot on the floor, pacing in front of the window, "I wasn't avoiding you."
"Because you just coincidentally quit talking to me right after I woke up with you between my legs," you can't be fucked to dance around it anymore.
Max falls silent again, and you find yourself burying your face in your bent knees, unable to look at him anymore. Your heart pangs in your chest. Once you get out of here, there's no way he will talk to you again. He's already gone back to the silent avoidance, probably only talking to you because there's nothing else to do.
It doesn't hit you that you've said that last part out loud. Not until Max cautiously sits next to you, muscled arm brushing against yours. "Is that what you think?" Barely a whisper; you're genuinely not sure if you heard it or not.
It's your turn not to respond, remaining frozen in your spot while he fidgets. You feel the heat of his arm before it touches you, slowly draping over your shoulders like it's meant to be there. He shifts next to you, warm breath hitting your arm, head resting against your shoulder. You don't want to look at him, but you find yourself doing it anyway, withdrawing from your cocoon to meet his eyes.
They're watery.
"I'm sorry," he chokes, a stray tear tumbling down his cheek, "I didn't...I didn't mean to upset you."
You find yourself facing him, cradling his face as the tears begin to fall. That's how you end up in his lap, arms wrapped around each other, teary-eyed and trembling. That's when you feel the unmistakable pressure of a fleeting kiss pressed into your jaw. It's all you need.
It starts with one little peck, pressed into the thin skin of his neck, then another, and another, until you've made your way past his jaw and your noses bump together, puffy eyes searching for any sign of hesitance. Max makes a move.
His lips are soft, molding so perfectly against your own; it's like he was made for kissing you. He sighs into it, pulls back, then kisses you again. You whine, absolutely melting as his hands wander up your shirt, settling on the bare skin of your waist.
"Was Jacob telling the truth when he said you wanted me to fuck you back there?" "Do you really need an answer to that?"
By the time your register that your back has hit the floor, Max is already between your legs, kissing you again, harder, firmer now. His teeth are nipping at your bottom lip oh so gently, hips experimentally canting against yours. You gasp into his mouth and can't help but whine when his hot tongue tangles with yours in the sloppiest of kisses. And then he's kissing down your neck, fingers tugging at your shorts while you tug at your shirt.
"Wait," you freeze, afraid you'd crossed a line, but Max kisses you again, "keep the shirt on." "Why?" "I've been dying to fuck you while you're wearing my shirt." He's pulling back, fingers hitching under your shorts and shimmying them off your body. His clothes come next, and suddenly you're incredibly grateful that Max is built like he's sculpted by the Gods themselves.
Your staring is short-lived because suddenly his pants are off, and "Jesus Christ, Max."
He just laughs.
You're genuinely not sure if he'll fit. He's not long, but god, he's thick, and you don't know if your body can even take that.
He's kissing you again, slow and sweet, like he isn't about to put his dick in you. Faintly, you feel a gentle pressure against your entrance; two fingers dip inside, an easy slide that has you whining against his lips. They twist inside you, searching for a spot that has your nails digging into his shoulders when he finds it. "Just fuck me already," you grumble against his lips, and that's enough for him.
His fingers disappear, replaced by a different, more significant pressure, opening you up but not quite. "Tell me if anything hurts, 'kay?" He waits until you nod, and the pressure is suddenly growing. You keen at the way his thick cock sinks into you, stretching you wide. "There you go," he murmurs, eyes trained on where he's disappearing into you, "are you okay?"
All you can do is hum, body trembling as he sinks into you, inch by inch. You're almost relieved when he bottoms out; quite frankly, you're unsure if there's more space for him to fill. You feel so full; there's no way you're not going to be limping back to the lodges. Experimental, Max rocks his hips, grins wickedly when you whimper. "That feel good, sweetheart?"
He repeats it, gradually working his way up to long, slow thrusts that have you whining against his lips; he's so thick that he hits every one of your sweet spots perfectly, rubbing against them without fail. "Is this what you wanted, hm?" He cooes, picking up his pace, adjusting himself to fuck you properly. One of his hands comes down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he draws himself back, and you frown at how your body feels empty in the places he once filled you. He pauses when the head of his cock catches at your entrance, groans at how you flutter around him.
His hips snap back, fills you halfway, and then pulling back again. "Max..!" You cry out; it's the first word you've managed to spit out; it feels like the only thing you know how to say. He sinks back in, chuckling an apology before he really begins to fuck you.
Nice and slow, he takes his time to open you up with every thrust and makes you feel every inch of him, panting into your neck as you squirm. Max moans loud when you clench around him, dropping his head into your neck as he hits you with a particularly hard thrust that has you clenching again. It's a vicious cycle that leaves your legs trembling; you can barely keep them up around his hips.
"Faster," you beg, tangling your fingers into his hair, "please—Max!"
He picks up his pace. Short, snappy thrusts that knock the breath out of you. Your back is arching, body squirming, unable to decide if you want to push back or run away from the pleasure between your legs. Max is kissing you again, sloppy and teeth clattering against your own. "Are you close, darling?" "Y-yes!"
He's losing his rhythm, pounding into you with twitchy thrusts that end up harder than he intends. Your head is spinning, fingers yanking at his hair as you cry out underneath of him, so, so close. He's sinking his teeth into your neck and slamming into him, and you're all but crying out as you cum around his cock. He fucks you through it, hips driving into you relentlessly, chasing his high.
Your body is sensitive, legs trembling, but you still find it in yourself to squeeze your legs around him. "In me-," you gasp, "cum in me."
And just like that, his hips slam to a halt as he cums with a strangled whine, long and loud as his cock pulses inside you.
It takes you a moment to catch your breath, whining when he begins to pull out. Then, with a soft 'pop,' he's out of you, and only then do you feel the hot cum leaking out of your thoroughly fucked entrance.
"I think you're gonna have to carry me back to camp," you pant, giggling at how Max rolls his eyes.
He leans down and pecks your lips with a short, all too innocent kiss. "What do you say to a proper date after we get out of here?"
"You have one hell of a way to ask someone out, Max."
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jasntodds · 1 year
Text
Caving In [9]
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Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader
Words: 12,892
Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, canon typical things, canon violence, it’s not explicitly said how jason knows about deathstroke so in my fic it’s public knowledge that aqualad was killed by deathstroke, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, a little bit of angst
Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.
A/N: So, I did some math and figured out I’m almost done writing this?????? I have a backlog of chapters written, just not edited so that’s kind of insane lol I’m very excited about it because I have so many more plans!! This chapter picks up with season 2 episode 2!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!
series masterlist | masterlist | tag list
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Over the next month, a routine develops for Gar and you. A few days of the week, Gar finds himself hiding out in your room. You were right, Dick, Jason, and Rachel don’t tend to bother him when he’s in your room. And you actually did make a sign that reads ‘keep out, ☠️’ and hung it on your door. It’s double-sided so the other side just says your name. You flip it around when Gar comes to escape and he finds it equally fun and sweet.
At first, you’d watch a movie or two and talk about whatever was bothering Gar. He’s gotten better at talking about it and it’s been a lot of him talking about Caulder House and his own nightmares of the day with Trigon’s bullshit. You didn’t know he had nightmares, too and you wonder how he hides it so fucking well. You’re not nearly as good at it as he is and you worry about him. You never want Gar to turn as bitter and calloused as you are about the world. He’s too good.
But, after the month, the talking and movies turned into something more comfortable. Gar will bring in one of his video game consoles. You will play with him sometimes but other times, you just like to watch. Gar likes Resident Evil and that’s a game you definitely prefer to watch. And Gar has his own collection of comics. You turned them down at first with not being a huge fan of reading, but after reading over Gar’s shoulder a few times, you got into The Walking Dead comics. Apparently, reading comics is a lot easier than reading a book. So, now it’s turned into Gar playing video games and you sitting with your legs on his lap, reading one of his comics in a comfortable silence, a joke here and there thrown around.
Training has also been going well for you. Your hands have healed and so have the rest of your injuries. You keep up well with Gar and Rachel now, the extra training sessions with Jason and Gar have helped significantly. And you’ve picked up knife throwing again, something you learned back in Gotham from one of the street kids you used to run with. You’re rusty and not a sharpshooter by any means, but it’s something. It eases some of the tension you feel in your shoulders.
When you can feel yourself wanting to lose it again because something brings back too many memories, you take Jason up on his offer to let you take it out on him. You’ll go for an extra sparring session sometimes, just the two of you and Jason helps you work through it without talking about it. It always makes you feel better and if you’re being honest, you really like the support system you have with the two boys. It’s something you never thought you’d have after your mom died but every day you’re so grateful for the two of them and even for Dick because he brought you here. That’s something you have no idea how you’ll ever be able to thank him for.
It’s a morning session now though and you’re in the training room with Gar and Jason while Rachel and Dick are out getting coffee. Dick has this bright idea to start blindfolding all of you to train because you can lose any of your senses at any time and you need to be prepared. Jason, of course, is really taking that to the next level by making Gar not have a blindfold while he does and making you sit out.
“Why do I have to sit out for this?” You fake-whine from one of the benches while Jason ties his blindfold behind his head and Gar stands in front of him looking bored.
“Because you have that combat shit. It defeats the purpose.” Jason snips back.
“Well, I don’t have to be blindfolded.” You mock him.
“Just shut up and watch us. Take some notes, you fucking need it.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Jay.” You groan, leaning back.
“When I give the word, come at me.” Jason says to Gar, holding his wooden sword out, ready to fight. “And don’t hold back.” He says, you rolling your eyes into the back of your head. Gar nods, looking bored and displeased with doing this. “Did you just nod?”
“Yeah, got it. Just, uh, don’t hold back.” Gar makes a jittered movement as if to be mocking Jason, you almost snicker from behind.
“Don’t kill each other please.”  You mock.
“Shut up, Y/n!” Jason groans, tilting his head back. He takes a second to breathe as he gets into position. “Go!” Jason yells.
Jason swings the sword at Gar, but Gar just hits it out of the way while Jason’s sword is an inch from his face. Gar’s eyes widen a bit in shock and amazed, looking back at you. You make the same expression, humming in response. Gar pushes the sword from his face taking a step forward with a swing at Jason, only for Jason to move out of the way in time and jabs his sword across the front of Gar’s chest. Gar waves a hand in front of Jason’s face, making sure he can’t see anything. Gar gives you a questionable look and all you can do is shrug your shoulder just as confused as he is. Surely, Jason has to be able to see him because this is just weird. Jason talks about your combat clairvoyance, maybe he needs to look in the mirror. Jason pulls his sword back, Gar takes a step back and then the real sparring begins.
Jason and Gar move around the mat, blocking each other quickly. It’s definitely a sight to see because Jason might as well not be wearing a blindfold. Gar can’t get a single hit in and barely dodges Jason’s jabs. It’s as if they’re doing this perfectly choreographed dance. It’s equally entertaining, impressive, and attractive. The two boys sparing is always a big heart-eye moment for you. But, somewhere along the way, Jason seems to have lost track of his rhythm, completely flipping away from Gar, giving Gar the perfect opportunity to bonk Jason on the head with his sword. You start laughing while Jason rips his blindfold off, spinning around to face Gar.
“Hey, fuck man.” Jason gasps at Gar, clearly annoyed.
“You said don’t hold back.” Gar defends, you getting up from your bench to join the boys.
“What were you doing? I was fucking blindfolded!” Jason yells.
“You told him to do it!” You defend Gar. “He just tapped you on the head, chill the fuck out.” You can’t believe he’s actually mad about this. It was his idea to not have Gar wear a blindfold.
“Stay out of it!” Jason snaps, turning his attention back to Gar.
“You said:” Gar starts before he, poorly, mimics Jason’s voice with the same jittered motion as before. “Don’t hold back.”
“Should I get the hose?” Rachel comes strolling in.
“What’s going on?” Dick asks, following right behind.
“Jason’s being a baby.” You quip, crossing your arms as you stand on the other side of Gar.
“Hey, fuck you!” Jason’s eyes nearly bug out of his head as he snaps at you, Gar moving to block Jason’s view of you. Jason leans further forward to see you. “You could have warned me! Or fucking helped instead of doing nothing!”
“You told me not to!” You scream at him. “You said no because I have the combat thing.” You mock his voice, with a grimace before Gar stands further in the way to block you from Jason. He’s not sure who he’s trying to block from the other really, Jason is beet red and you look like you might strangle him.
“Um, hello?” Dick states, waiting for one of you to answer his previous question.
“We did what you said,” Jason turns his attention Dick. “The blindfold thing then he went nuts on me.”
You groan loudly, putting your hands on your face in frustration.
“He said don’t hold back.” Gar repeats, this time his voice louder and higher pitched, the annoyance growing.
“Then why do we even learn to fight like this, man?” Jason argues, throwing his arms to the sides. “Hey, it’s idiotic.” He takes a step forward, pointing at his head with wide eyes, almost a crazed look in his eye. “We have eyes.”
“In battle, anything can be taken from you.” Dick’s voice is calm as he walks further onto the mat. “Your hands.” Dick says before quickly twisting Jason’s arm and grabbing the wooden sword from him, making it look effortless. He moves to Gar, quickly using the sword to strike at Gar, Gar blocking a few times before Dick gets the sword right between Gar’s feet, just missing him. “Your feet.” Dick swings the sword at you, the sword aimed just a few centimeters from hitting you right between the eyes. You take a step back, eyes widening and crossed as you look at the sword. He swings the sword at Rachel, doing the same gesture. “And your eyes.” He pauses before stepping back, and putting the sword down. “No matter what is taken, you must be able to keep fighting and win.” Dick faces the boys and you again. “Alright, get changed. Attack scenarios in the tech room in five minutes. Then breakfast.”
You, Gar, and Rachel don’t argue and instead, leave the training room without another word, leaving Jason behind with Dick. This is a pretty normal thing. When training doesn’t go exactly how Jason wants it to, which is normally that he doesn’t win all the time, he gets mad and blames everyone else for it. This time, it’s just that it was Gar who wasn’t blindfolded. It’s gotten a little worse over the last month, Gar and you are pretty sure he’s just stir-crazy from being at the tower and not having any real crime to fight. He’s probably bored of sparring with you and not being in Gotham so the two of you let it go easily.
“Why does Dick sound like Daniel Larusso?” You ask as the three of you head down the hallway.
Rachel lets out a chuckle. “He literally sounds like Mr. Miogi.”
“He says we watch too much TV, maybe he needs to stop watching the Karate Kid and Cobra Kai.” Gar laughs.
“Maybe he doesn’t know what to do so he’s looking to them for inspiration.” You jokes.
“Someone should tell him it doesn’t work like that.” Rachel adds in.
“Awww, but it’ll just break little Dicky’s heart.” You mock, placing your hands over your heart with a fake pout.
“Yeah, I’m looking to be on his shitlist.” Gar chortles as the three of you reach your rooms.
“He would never put you on his shitlist.” Rachel scoffs, Gar raising a brow at her.
“He’s taken you right on under his little batwing.” You add in.
You joke about Dick but over the last month he’s grown on you quite a bit. He’s really not so bad when you’re not making him mad. He’s kind of making it obvious that he really wants to make sure you’re all ready before he sends you out on some type of mission. He can also even be funny sometimes and partake in jokes. He’s even joined all of you for a movie night so he’s grown on you but you have to poke fun.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Gar questions, looking between you and Rachel.
Rachel and you look to each other from across the hall. You shrug. “Well, I think we mean he’s really nice to you and sees you as responsible.”
“Yeah,” Rachel nods in agreement. “You always do what he says, besides that one time.” Rachel looks to you.
“Which was my fault so Dick didn’t fault you and probably admires your ability to risk getting into trouble with him to protect me and Jason.” You explain. “And it was just sparring.”
“That’s not true.” Gar defends. “I don’t always listen to him.”
You and Rachel exchange another look. “When was the last time you didn’t do what he said?” Rachel asks.
Gar stands for a second, trying to remember the last time he didn’t listen to Dick and as he thinks about it, you both have a point. He does do what Dick says all the time, without even questioning him. It’s who he is though. He exactly like to disobey authority. Sneaking out behind the Chief's back was different, this is Dick. And, every time someone has went against what Dick has said, shit hits the fan so maybe Gar is onto something.
“Okay, that’s fair.” Gar chuckles, looking to the floor and back to the two of you.
“It’s not a bad thing.” Rachel reassures him. “We’ll never be in trouble.”
“It’s not that bad being on his shitlist.” You state. “But, yeah, it’s not a bad thing. It’s probably better to not have him mad, though it is very fucking funny sometimes.” You gain a sinister grin. 
“Okay, don’t listen to y/n.” Rachel rolls her eyes with a sigh. “It’s not funny and it’s best for everyone to not piss him off.”
“I haven’t pissed him off in like a whole week, that’s a record.” You hold your head up high, Gar chuckling under his breath.
“You are proud of that, aren’t you?” Gar asks.
“Kind of.” You giggle. “No, but really, Rachel is right. It is better not pissing him off, he’s kind of cool when he’s not mad.”
“Yeah, I’m not looking to make him mad anyway.” Gar shakes his head. “You and Jason have that handled.”
“They are very good at it.” Rachel mutters.
“Teamwork.” You grin.
“Okay, get changed.” Rachel cuts the conversation. “Otherwise he will be mad because we’ll be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” You joke, walking into your room, Gar following your lead and heads into his room.
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Later that night, the four of you found yourselves doing your own things. Gar and Jason made up while you found yourself in Rachel’s room. Rachel is sitting at her desk while you’re laying on Rachel’s bed, upside down with your head off the end of the bed, looking at Rachel. Usually, when the boys hang out, the two of you spend time together. You like to give Rachel shit for being Dick’s lap dog but you do like her and enjoy spending time with her. Rachel really likes having another girl around, the month she spent with boys was not the best. She loves them, besides Jason, but they’re a little much sometimes. Too much testosterone in one place for her liking.
“So, when do you think Dick will let us do something?” You ask, scrolling through your phone, keeping your head hanging off the end of the bed.
“Not you, too.” Rachel groans.
“What?” You question, moving your phone to get a better look at Rachel. Rachel just widens her eyes and raises her brows. “No, I mean, I’m just wondering. I’m not gonna go rogue again, I promise.” You roll your eyes, a smile coming to your lips.
“Mhm.” Rachel hums. “I don’t know. Do you really think we’re ready?”
“Oh, I mean I think I am.” You quip. “Ya know, given the track record.” You scoff. “Jason’s probably been ready in his entire life. You and Gar seem to be fine.”
“Yeah, but we don’t stand a chance against Dick even if it’s us four against him.”
“We could if he’d let us use our powers.” You wave your left hand at Rachel, your palm glowing green.
Rachel rolls her eyes. “I don’t have that kind of control, Y/n.”
“True,” You start, pulling yourself up and flipping around to lie on your stomach and face Rachel. “But, if he would let you use your powers maybe you’d gain some control.”
“That’s not how you did it, right?”
“No,” You scoff. “But, it’s probably different for you. You were born with them and your powers are clearly stronger than mine. Maybe not using them makes it worse.” You offer. “Your side.” Your words go hesitant.
Rachel’s eyes widen, surprise and a hint of panic consuming her face. “How did you--” 
“Don’t freak out, but I saw them when we were sparring. I didn’t tell anyone or anything.” Your voice is nonchalant but understanding.
“Thank you.” Rachel’s voice is soft. “Can we not talk about it?”
“Sure.” You shrug. “What’d you wanna talk about?”
Rachel gains a cheeky smirk and you can already tell where this is going. “So…about the boys.” Rachel’s smile splits her face.
You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Rachel?”
“What’s going on?” Rachel laughs.
“Whatever do you mean?” You play dumb, an innocent smile playing on your lips.
You know Rachel isn’t oblivious. You tend to flirt with both of them and you are almost always with at least one of them. Over the last month, it’s just become a little more obvious.
“Come on.” Rachel laughs. “Do you like either of them?”
Rachel is curious, sure but she sees how you flirt with Jason. It’s different with him than it is with Gar, anyone could see that. Gar is Rachel’s friend and while she likes you, she is kind of worried that you’re playing a game with the two of them. If you hurt Jason, fine, he’ll probably deserve it but not Gar.
“Hmmm.” You hum. “Oh, yeah.” You nod quickly.
“Which one?!”
“Both.” You state as if it were obvious.
“Right, okay.” Rachel nods, trying to wrap her head around someone actually liking Jason. Gar she completely understands but Jason? “Both of them?”
“I know, you’re really trying to not gag at Jason.” You laugh. “He’s, ya know, a smartass and hot and shockingly funny.” You neglect to include every nice thing Jason has said to you and done for you, something you like to keep like a secret. “And Gar, well, I don’t think I need to explain Gar.”
“Okay, so what are you gonna do about it?” Rachel asks. “A love triangle.” Rachel has a teasing grin with her words.
You grimace. “Ewww, I hate love triangles.” You groan. “I know what you’re gonna say, but humor me and tell me what you think.”
“Well,” Rachel leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, hands holding her head. “Fuck Jason,” Rachel starts, getting an eyebrow raise and a devious grin from you. “Not literally, oh my gosh.” Rachel rolls her eyes as you chortle. “He’s an asshole to everyone, including you.” Rachel argues against Jason.
“Right, yeah, but he is also nice to me and I’m also kind of an asshole to him.” You defend with the scrunch of your nose.
“Yeah, but today, you didn’t even do anything and he was throwing a fit because you did what he asked.”
“Okay,” You nod tilting your head to the right. “That’s a fair point, actually. Continue.” You put your elbow to the bed, using one hand to hold your head up.
“He calls us freaks.”
“I think Jason thinks everyone is a freak though.” You state.
“Maybe, but it’s still hurtful.” Rachel argues.
“Doesn't really bother me." You shrug casually. "Also, fair though.” You nod in agreement.
“He didn’t stop you from going to Jerry’s which was a bad thing, Y/n.” Rachel points a finger at you, disapproval on her face.
“But he didn’t let me go alone, Rachel.” You mimic her actions.
“But, but,” Rachel starts. “Gar would have tried to stop you and went with you if you were still insistent on it.”
“Wait, how did you know Jason didn’t try to stop me?" You furrow your brows, putting your hand back down.
“No one believes he tried to stop you.” Rachel laughs.
“Alright, you’ve got me there.” You state. “But, you have to give me one pro to Jason otherwise it sounds too biased.”
Rachel pauses trying to think of something good to say about Jason. She actually didn’t hate him originally. She kind of liked him actually but after the whole Trigon situation, he’s been pretty nasty to her. They can get along and be civil of course, but when Jason’s mad, Rachel tends to be the person he’s the most mean to and Rachel has grown to think he’s too entitled and too arrogant. Neither of them have actually bothered to have a conversation about any of it or figure out how they can get along better.
“I am biased.” Rachel laughs, not able to come up with anything. “He’s just so,” Rachel grimaces. “He hates me for no reason.”
“I meeeaaannnn….” You wince.
“What? Did he say something?” Rachel leans forward and if you know something, she is all ears.
“No, but it’s not that hard to figure out from where I’m sitting.” Your eyes go a little wide and you’re surprised Rachel hasn't figured it out.
“Well, tell me! I don’t like that he hates me.”
You pause and for a second you debate saying anything. It's not really your place. But, Jason also hasn't told you why he hates Rachel. This is just you putting all of the pieces together. Rachel is your friend anyway and it would be a lot easier if the two of them got along so, you decide to tell Rachel what you think.
“Okay, from where I’m sitting, it seems like he hates you and thinks you’re a freak because he was possessed, right? Seems like the issues that surround you guys is because of that night, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Gar is a bit…wishy-washy about Dick. He listens to him maybe a little too much sometimes. He’s protective of you, sure, but he’s a different kind of protective when it comes to you. Jason….hates you. I’m just saying, all of you have that night in common, right?” You ask and Rachel nod. “And how was Jason when you first met him?”
“Fine, he was…Jason.” Rachel laughs softly. “Cocky, charming in his weird way, a bit braggy about Robin but kind of funny.”
“Okay and he was chill with you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what happened between Chicago and Trigon?”
“He helped Dick with something and Dick sent him back to Gotham. He showed up at my mom’s with Dawn and Hank, Trigon was there already.” Rachel explains plainly.
“Mhm, and you and Gar were?” You gesture a palm out, moving it in front of you.
“Trying to escape.” Rachel furrows her brows, still completely following.
“Okay, so follow me: Jason gets sent to help Dick by Bruce because Jason is following in Dick’s footsteps as the new Robin. He’s a shiny new Gotham toy. He helps Dick just long enough for Dick to not be interested in getting to know the kid who’s taking over for him because Dick quit and sends him back to Gotham but Dick keeps you and Gar around, right? Two kids he, otherwise, has no relation to. At least Dick and Jason were taken in by Bruce and have Robin in common so they are, actually, like brothers. But, you’re just some kid who found Dick and Dick decided that was good enough for him to bring you under his wing and then Gar got to tag along and neither of you were sent back to where you came from, just Jason despite Jason offering his help.” You explain, speaking with your hands.
“Right, okay.” Rachel nods along.
“So, fast forward, and Jason shows up to help again. Only this time, instead of helping he gets possessed and starts trying to kill his best friend. He nearly beats his best friend to death because this random ass girl Dick plucked off the streets has a demon dad. THEN, because none of that was enough, none of that was good enough for Bruce and Bruce sent him here to be with, the older brother who didn’t want him in the first place and he gets to be with the person who his brother chose over him and got him possessed.” You finish your explanation.
“Uh…” Rachel pauses, blinking slowly trying to process everything. “I…I didn’t think about any of that. How did you even figure that out?” Rachel knows you and Jason are close but she didn't expect you to have this long explanation that seems to make sense.
“Yeah, I mean I get it. It happened to you, too. You were front and center. It’s not always easy seeing that kind of stuff when you’re in it. But, that’s just what I can gather from it. Jason seems to be someone who needs attention and just wants to know he’s doing a good job.” You sway your head back and forth slightly. "Gar's talked about it and Jason mentioned it which, when Jason mentions something like that, I think it bothers him at least a little bit."
“Okay, so what should I do? I really don’t want to hate him and fight with him all the time.”
“You could talk to him.” You state as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.
“Because that’ll go over so well.” Rachel mutters.
“No, you let him just talk his shit. Go on his little rant and swear fest that he does. He’ll call you a freak. He’ll just rant for like five minutes or whatever and then you apologize. Even if you don’t want to, you apologize to him and then he’ll feel obligated to apologize to you and then you can have a conversation about it. You just have to let him blow his steam.”
“You really get him, don’t you?”
“Trauma bonding will do that.” You chuckle. “As I said, sometimes being an outsider is easier. I didn’t know all that bullshit or what happened before. Plus, we do have Gotham in common.”
“So, I should just talk to him.”
“Yep. It really is that simple with him.” You let out a sigh as you nod. "He is not that complicated."
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” Rachel leans back in her chair. “Okay, I have something good to say.” Rachel states and you gesture a hand out, encouraging her to proceed. “He talks to you and he’s honest with you. And if he talks to you, I think that means he understands you like you do him. So, that's three for Jason.” Rachel gives you a proud smile.
You laugh “Yeah, he is and he does understand, actually.” You nod softly. “You may pitch your case for Gar now if you want.”
“For starters, he is cute!” Rachel squeals without missing a beat. “His green hair,”
“Looks so good on him!” You mimic the squeal.
“Yeah! And he is so protective and kind, to everyone even people who aren’t so great. He’s open and brave.” Rachel’s face softens. “He seems to make you feel comfortable.”
The corner of your mouth twitches into a soft smile. “Yeah, he smells like strawberries.” You laugh softly. “He does make me feel really comfortable, and safe. I feel like I don’t have to worry about anything. Um…one of my first nights, I had a nightmare and I thought Jerry was in the tower. He held my hand and searched the tower with me, knowing Jerry wasn’t around but he never made it weird or made me feel bad about it. He just…did it.”
There’s a warm smile that comes to Rachel’s face. “Hey, Y/n.”
“Hm?”
“I think you have an answer.” Rachel laughs softly. “If you really wanna go for Jason, that’s fine. I will never get it but if it makes you happy, I get it. But, you didn’t have that kind of thing to say about Jason and you got all soft about Gar.”
You pause because you do have similar stories to say about Jason. Jason still reads to you and he still lets you take out your aggression and feelings on him without ever questioning it. He was there through you beating up Jerry in the best way he could have been but you can’t tell Rachel that. You know Jason doesn’t want to be seen as soft for anyone, not with his friends anyway, and those things feel like little secrets between you. They’re like little passwords into your friendship that only you two have. It’s your things. Just yours and you’d really like to keep it that way. So, you have to shrug and nod along. You do really like Gar, you aren’t arguing that anyway. But, you do wish Rachel could see the Jason Todd you are so fond of. It’s not fair that Jason doesn’t even have a fair shot in a conversation like this. He deserves some type of fairness.
“I don’t know if I should do anything about it anyway.” You let out a sigh of defeat.
“What? Why though? You like them and it’s pretty obvious they like you, too.”
You shake your head. “I like how it is. If I decide to tell either of them I like them and something comes of that, it might ruin stuff with the other one and I don’t wanna ruin anything. I think the both of them have had too much ruined in their lives.”
Rachel shakes her head. “If you want to go for Gar, you should talk to Jason first. All jokes aside, I see how he looks at you and I see how he treats you when you guys think no one is looking. I don’t actually think you liking Gar will ruin it.”
Your brows furrow with Rachel's comment. The way Jason looks at you? You didn't think Jason really looked at you any kind of way. But, it's interesting because Jason is still relatively guarded. Easy to figure out when it comes to the trauma and figuring out why he is the way he is but everything else, he has this ten-story wall up. He'd probably combust if he knew Rachel saw him looking at you in any kind of way. But, it's something that warms your heart and makes you smile.
“You think so?” You ask, your face soft.
“Completely unbiased and actually thinking decently of Jason, yes.” Rachel gives you a reassuring nod. “Do you like Gar more though?”
Your cheeks start to burn. “I don’t know. I think so because it’s just…different with him. It doesn’t feel like a game with him.” You scoff. “I am endlessly afraid I’ll ruin him though.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel’s voice goes sad.
“He’s been through so much and so have I but he finds it in himself to be there for everyone, all the time. He seems to be accepting of everything that’s happened to him and I’m so afraid that I’ll never be that and I’ll just….ruin him with my pessimism and bitterness.” Your eyes go sad with the last statement.
Rachel wheels her chair over to you. “You can’t ruin him. He’s Gar.” Rachel gives you a soft smile. “He’s a lot stronger than you think. I think he’d do anything for you.” Rachel puts her hand over yours. “I saw the way he stepped between you and Jason today. He knows you can handle yourself but he did it anyway, I don’t even think he noticed that he did. You won’t ruin him.”
“Thanks, Rachel.”
“You guys would also just be super cute.” Rachel gosh.
“Oh my gosh.” You hang your head with a laugh.
You feel a little better getting to talk about it with Rachel. You would never bring it up on your own. Talking about your romantic feelings is not something you like to drown people with. And you feel bad for liking both boys. It’s not your fault, but there’s a guilt that echoes in your stomach when you think too long about it. Talking to Rachel though, helped.
You adore Jason. You adore who he is when no one else is around. But, maybe that’s the thing. Jason is different people around different people. You don’t know if he’d ever be able to be the person who he is in private with you publicly. You don’t want to play a guessing game with him. It’s too much for you, right now. But, with Gar, Gar is just who he is. Sure, he censors himself sometimes but everyone knows exactly how Gar feels about everything and knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. He’s transparent. He is comfortable in the best sense of the word. He makes you so happy and he never makes you mad. He makes your stomach twist with knots and bubbles. You swear you could never stay sad as long as you’re around Gar.
But, despite what Rachel said, it scares you that maybe your trauma could be the straw that breaks him. People can only take so much and he’s been through it all. What happens if dealing with all your shit, in a romantic way, breaks him? You would never forgive yourself for it.
A knock sounds on Rachel’s door, Rachel telling them to come in. And speaking of Gar, he walks in with two plates containing a slice of pizza on each plate. He’s all smiles as he walks in.
“I thought you guys might be hungry.” Gar offers the plates out to the two of you.
“Thanks, Gar.” You take one of the plates from him and this is a perfect example of why you like him. Always so caring and attentive to other people.
Rachel takes the other plate. “Thanks.” Rachel offers him a smile.
You take a bite and wince, Rachel eyeing you and then her own slice of pizza. You chew slowly, giving Rachel a thumbs up while Gar holds back a laugh. Rachel’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes a bite. Immediately, Rachel winces, pausing her chewing and you let out a laugh as you choke down your bite.
“It’s so bad.” You laugh.
“Who made this?” Rachel asks before spitting out the piece into the trash.
“Dick did.” Gar explains, laughing with you both. “The crust is made out of cauliflower.”
“Gross.” You grimace.
“Why would somebody do that?” Gar asks, the laughing subsiding as if he’s grieving for the pizza that could have been.
“If we hate eating, then we have more time to train.” Rachel says.
“Because he’s losing his mind.” You’re still grimacing about the pizza. The pizza never did anything to Dick and yet, he did this.
“Okay, so it’s not just me. He’s totally obsessed, right?”
“Like I said, Daniel Larusso.” You state.
"He just wants to make sure we're ready." Rachel sighs.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Gar chuckles softly. “What’re you guys doing anyway?”
“Talking shit.” You wink at him, Gar’s posture stiffening and you do love making him squirm.
“Just talking.” Rachel laughs softly.
Gar nods slowly. “Right, okay.” He clears his throat. “Movie night?” Gar asks.
You look to Rachel, a cheeky smile on display. “I’m always down for a movie night. Rachel?”
“Of course, we can make some popcorn since the pizza is a bust.” She laughs softly.
The three of you head to the living room, you and Rachel tossing your pizza slices into the trash in the kitchen before joining Gar in the living room. When you get to the couch, Jason and Dick are watching the TV, eyes glued to the screen. You sit next to Gar, following his stare on the screen while Rachel sits on the ottoman.
A police chase ensues on screen, Dick almost blocking the entire TV as he stands watching with his arms crossed like a dad in his fifties.
"We're live at a downtown car chase featuring a stolen vehicle. Police now seem to have the suspect cornered." One of the news reporters says as footage from the top of a parking garage shows a black car surrounded by cop cars.
As all of you watch from the tower, a girl with grey hair gets out of the car and without hesitation, starts beating up the cops. You watch in a state of awe and shock. Whoever that person is, they are very ballsy. Jason leans his elbows on his knees, getting this cheeky half-cocked smirk as he watches.
"Who the hell is that?" Rachel asks.
"Someone who has no self-preservation." You mutter.
"A total badass." Jason gawks at the screen.
Your heart sinks a bit with the comment. Other people can be a badass, that's not it. It's the way he's looking at the screen. His eyes are wide and he's in such a state of awe, it reminds you of the look he gave you after you beat up Jerry, after the initial shock of it. He's got a thing for violence, clearly and maybe it hurts a little but you will never admit that. Instead, you keep watching as the girl continues to beat up the cops, taking down every one of them who comes at her.
"The suspect does appear to be female. She's got silver hair. She does seem to be injured. We're not sure how badly." The news reporter says as the girl looks directly at the camera from the helicopter, her eye left covered with bloody gauze.
She is very pretty.
"Wait for it. We're not sure where she thinks she's going." The news reporter says as the girl runs to the car she 'stole' and leaps off the building.
Your jaw nearly drops as you watch. On second thought, Jason might have a point. That's pretty badass. Who just jumps off a parking garage? She's either crazy or knows something no one else does. It's impressive. Gar looks worried about the girl though and Rachel just looks shocked. Jason, on the other hand, is almost matching the expression on your face but with a bit more awe and infatuation.
"I'll be back." Dick says without looking back and just walks right to the elevator.
"Okay, what the fuck did we just witness?" You ask, looking around the room.
"Someone scared for their life, probably." Rachel says softly.
"A badass kicking cops' asses! It was awesome." Jason cheers.
"I'm with Rachel." Gar adds. "She didn't look badass, she looks scared." Gar glares at Jason.
"It was still awesome." Jason defends.
"Think Dick is going to find her?" You question, ignoring the back and forth between the other three.
Without a second thought, Gar closes his eyes and nods while Rachel and Jason say yes in unison.
"He has a thing for strays." Gar says quietly.
"Noticed." You laugh softly as you look down to your lap, a somber expression coming to your face.
"You guys still down for the movie?" Jason changes subject, sitting back in his seat. Rachel is the only one who catches the look Jason gives you. It's subtle, but his eyes linger on you just a second too long and his jaw clenches just slightly while his eyes soften just a little.
You shrug. "Might as well."
Gar and Rachel agree, Rachel moving to sit on the other side of you. It's Gar's turn to pick a movie. He chooses Back To The Future, a true classic. The three of you sit back and start to enjoy the movie together. You think about if Dick finds this girl. Will it change the dynamic? You’re actually really comfortable here and you enjoy where your friends are with everyone. If Dick brings someone else in, will that change? Of course, you knew you wouldn't be the last stray Dick brought home but it's weird with the potential to not be the new person.
Just as the movie ends, the elevator brings Dick up. The four of you all rush over to see if he found the girl who leaped from a parking garage. All four of you stand and watch the doors open, Dick carrying the girl who's unconscious. Gar, Jason, and Rachel jump into action to help but you step aside. It's not that he found her and you’re worried about the situation. It's that you wonder if this is what it was like when Dick brought you back. Everyone comes to see the new person, wonders if she's okay, who she is, and where she came from. What she is. It feels too real and it brings back every bad thought you had prior to being in the tower.
It feels too exposed and you remember how terrifying it was that first day. Surrounded by new people you didn't know if you could trust but having nowhere else to go. That, in and of itself, was also traumatizing even though it worked out for the best and you love it here. It was just scary so you stand back as Dick asks to Gar to come with him since Gar has some experience with injuries from staying at Caulder House.
"Hey, you okay?" Rachel asks seeing your distant expression.
"Huh?" You shake your head, almost not catching Rachel talking. "Sorry, yeah." You nod quickly.
"What? Scared you're gonna be replaced or something?" Jason jokes. His tone is his usual sarcastic, airy tone he uses when he's just trying to mess around. Not even a flirt, just joking but it strikes a nerve a little.
"Fuck you, Jason." You bark at him.
Rachel's even taken aback by the remark. This is what the two of you do and you’re the only one that fires back. Rachel expected you to say something about Jason being replaced but that's not it. And Jason is completely shocked, almost frozen in place. He was just joking and he knows you know that.
"Okay, fuck you." Jason snips. "It was a fucking joke."
"Well, maybe I'm not in a fucking joking mood, dude." You roll your eyes before storming off towards your room.
Jason stands for a second, looking at Rachel for help. "Did you guys have a fight or something?" Rachel asks, thinking you didn't because surely you would have mentioned that when you were weighing the pros and cons of the boys.
"Not that I know off." Jason scoffs. "Did you?" Jason's voice turns accusatory.
"What? No!" Rachel defends. "She was fine when we were hanging out."
Jason sucks in a breath. "Alright then." He shrugs, trying to play it off as if it's not bothering him but Rachel can see through it. Gar is helping Dick anyway.
"Just go talk to her." Rachel rolls her eyes, her words reluctant.
She's rooting for you and Gar. You're softer and cuter. Rachel, as your friend, is worried that if you decide you like Jason more and want to see where that goes, it won't end anywhere but in shambles. It's more than just Rachel and Jason not getting along. It's that Jason is a walking fuckboy. He's the dangerous rebel parents warn their teenagers not to date because they'll get in trouble and get their hearts broken. Maybe Rachel thinks too little of Jason but with Gar, she's sure Gar wouldn't hurt you, ever. But, you’re her friend and Jason at least understands you better than anyone. She isn't going to get in the way of that.
"You're her friend." Jason holds his head up, as if trying not to let on how he's definitely going to your room when Rachel leaves.
"So are you?" Rachel narrows her eyes at him. "I'm gonna go to my room and wait for Gar to be done, you talk to Y/n." Rachel nods once at him before turning and heading towards her own room.
Jason waits until Rachel's door closes and then he goes straight to your room. He thinks he's coy but he's almost as transparent as Gar is. Jason isn't subtle even when he's trying to be. Rachel isn't blind. She sees the way he watches you. Both of the boys do. Rachel has caught Dick nearly choking and grimacing at the three of you with your flirty jokes. But, to Jason, it's like he exists in a tinted bubble where no one can see any of it.
"Come in." You call out as you’re laid on your back on your bed, staring at the ceiling.
Jason opens the door, walking in and shutting the door behind him slowly. "How did you--"
"I heard Rachel shut her door, figured you were behind her." You don't look at him, just keep your stare on the ceiling.
"Alright, well what the fuck was that out there? I was just fucking with you like always." Jason huffs, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"It was just weird." You mutter.
Jason walks to the foot of your bed before plopping beside you, laying in the same position. His arm brushes yours as he turns his head to look at you and then back at the ceiling. The ceiling is white and boring, a stark contrast to the decorating you’ve done to your room. There are sketches across the walls you did with Dick's permission. Movie posts for some of your favorite movies are hanging sporadically on the walls. Your shelves have Funko Pops from some of your favorite shows. A few snacks sit on your nightstand. The room is yours, it's a home within a home but the ceiling is a sterile white, cold compared to the rest of your room.
"Like..." You pause. "Is that what it was like when he brought me back?" You ask, looking at Jason.
Jason looks back at you, your eyes about as welcoming as a hurricane. "Yeah." He answers honestly. "It was weird. You looked dead, though." Jason looks away from you, not able to hold eye contact.
It was weird when Dick brought you back, worse than weird. Dick went out to run an errand and then when he came back, he had a burn and you who literally looked dead. You were covered in bruises and cuts. You were limp and lifeless, without even knowing you, Jason is positive it broke everyone's hearts to see you. It didn't matter if you had powers or if you could fight, you needed help. It was one of the moments since Bruce sent him to train with Dick that he really viewed Dick in a different light, kind of like a hero without the mask (not that he will ever admit that). He just helped this random girl off the streets despite the fact you burned him. It was different. It was sad and scary.
"Gee, thanks, Jay." You roll your eyes, looking back to the ceiling.
Jason sighs, sitting up and turning to lean on his elbow, looking at you. "Look, I'm saying it was fucking freaky when he brought you here because you were really hurt." Jason explains and you catch a hint of sadness in his eyes. "And fucked up." Jason adds in. "He asked for Gar's help then, too. You know the rest, I guess. Gar wouldn't tell us what was going on with you."
"Why?" You ask.
Jason wrinkles his face. "Because you were fucked up."
"Fair." You nod before you let out a sigh. "I just hope she's okay, ya know?" You say. "It's like...seeing it just felt so fucking weird but I hope whatever happened wasn't too traumatizing. It made me....mad again. I haven't been mad like that since Jerry."
Jason nods with understanding. Seeing you like that, it was worrisome. You’ve got a fire and that’s why Jason finds you fun but, it’s how it went. It doesn’t matter that Jerry deserved it and you deserved to get revenge. You didn’t feel better afterwards because it didn’t erase what happened. And Jason doesn’t want you to ever feel that way again. He was the only one that was there for it.
"Wanna work it out?" He gains a smirk.
You decide to challenge him now. He came to check on you and just that bit of talking did make you feel a little better. It's not about being replaced. You know Dick won't replace any of you. It's just a bit triggering being on the other side of it this time. But talking with Jason helps.
"Work it out how?" You match his position, making your faces closer.
Jason's voice hitches in his throat. "However you want, babe."
The term babe is something he's grown accustomed to using when he's messing with you. To you, that's all it is. He's using it to get under your skin because it works. He gains this cheeky, taunting grin of accomplishment every single time he says it because you squirm in your seat. Your heart always skips a beat with the pet name. It's always this mix of wanting him to shut the fuck up and wanting to hear it in a way that's not him just messing with you, but like he means it. And you never know what to do about it.
"Shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling away. "You know what I mean, shithead."
"I call you babe, you call me shithead, huh?" Jason chortles, tilting his head to the right.
"If the shoe fits, BaBe." You mock, leaning in again, eyes wide and you see it for the first time.
Jason squirms and suddenly, you completely understands why he calls you it. It's the way his face brightened but his eyes shot open like a deer in headlights. It's the way he jerked his head back and you could visibly see him hold his breath for a second. It's a little funny and it's really cute.
"No, you can't use my thing against me!" Jason yells, a smile tugging at his lips with burning cheeks.
"Hmm, too late." You give him a confident smile before sitting all the way up.
He's fun. He's fun to mess with but you’re not sure if there's anything more than there. You aren't sure if you like him because he's hot and because he's fun or if there's something below the surface. He is this unknown iceberg that you’re trying to navigate around in the dark. There is always more than what's on the surface but you can't see how much. You can't tell if what you do goes more than a foot under the water or if it's nearly touching the ocean floor. The only way to know is to dive in, following the rugged surface as far as you can, risk drowning. Maybe some risks aren't worth taking.
"Get changed, meet you in the training room in twenty minutes." Jason sits up and gets up off the bed, a sadness filling his heart but in a way, accepting that it'll never be him.
He sees the way you look at Gar. He sees the way you and Gar are and how it's always more than a joke and maybe if Jason cooled it down and was just real with you in a normal situation, you could have that, too. If he could just, throw the sarcasm overboard in a normal situation, he could dive in with you. But, he's never been a very good diver.
"Yes, sir." You give him a fake pout and Jason narrows his eyes, the pounding in his chest, echoing through his ears. All he can do is roll his eyes at you before heading out to his own room to change.
You and Jason get changed and you head out of your room first. When you reach the kitchen, Rachel is grabbing a snack. You ask if Jason has been by yet but apparently he hasn't so you sit down to talk with Rachel while you wait. While you wait, Gar comes walking in from the other hallway, clearly done with whatever he was doing with Dick and then Jason walks in as if everyone were on cue. The four of you decide you'll all train together since you're actually due for a training session again anyway. But, before you can get going, you hear the sound of shoes. The four of you peek around the corner of the kitchen to see the new girl trying to sneak out of the tower. All four of you follow her to the elevator, staying back while Dick comes in from the other hallway.
"Going somewhere?" Rachel asks as the elevator denies the girl access to leave.
The girl turns around as Dick steps forward. "We need to talk." Dick says, the girl glaring at him with the one eye that’s not covered.
Dick sends the four of you off to the training room while Dick talks with the new girl. The four of you spar for a little while, making little to no conversation between you. The four of you are mostly just wasting time until you can find out what Dick and the new girl talked about and what's going on. You all have mixed emotions about it but all four of you are curious and intrigued. So, you train for an hour until you and Rachel ask Gar to grab a snack and a drink from the snack counter around the corner.
You sit on the floor, your hands resting behind you while your legs are stretched out and Rachel sits on a bench. Jason continues to practice with a wooden stick, more or less haphazardly while you wait for Gar to come back. Gar is only gone a few minutes before he strolls in with a box of Cheez-Its and three Gatorades.
"So, what do you think is going on out there?" Gar asks, handing Rachel the box of Cheez-Its and you a Gatorade.
"If it's anything like when I got her, bombarding her with too many questions." You say, opening the Gatorade.
"He's probably just trying to find out who she is." Rachel states.
"So, bombarding her with too many questions." You repeat as Gar sits on a bench.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" He asks.
"He sent you to talk to me because I refused to talk to him so kind of." You chuckle.
"He's giving her a cell job. That's what he does cause he can't resist a stray." Jason says sounding annoyed.
"As if it's a bad thing." You quip, gesturing your left hand around the room. "We were literally all strays."
"Don't take his side." Jason mutters, a whine in his voice.
"I mean I knew he'd be bringing in new people. I just didn't...I guess I just didn't think it'd be so soon." Gar explains with the shrug of his shoulders, leaning his elbows on his knees.
You tilt your head slightly to the right trying to figure out if this is what happened when Dick brought you back. They had only been together a month before you showed up so the fact Gar thinks it's still soon, hurts a little. It all worked out okay with you being here, so what's the difference between you and this new girl?
"We didn't even know if we can trust her. Hell, we don't even know what the fuck she is." Jason raises his voice, growing more dramatic.
"What she is, is a person who needs help." Rachel's voice is stern as she looks at Jason.
"Or," Gar starts, holding up his fingers, Gatorade in hand. "Is she a person?" Rachel tilts her head, giving Gar a displeased look.
"You guys sure do know how to make people feel welcomed." You roll your eyes. "Is this how you guys acted when Dick brought me here?"
Gar gives a yikes expression. "Well....yeah." He nods sheepishly. "We didn't know you."
"You burned Dick." Rachel adds.
"You also looked like shit." Jason points out, a grin on his lips.
"So? It all worked out with me. She's just a person." You defend the new girl.
"How did she survive the jump?" Gar leans in, voice raising slightly.
"So, you think she's a metahuman?" Rachel asks.
"Yeah, or, or an alien." Gar throws his arms to the side, defending his point. "Like Kory."
"I need to meet Kory, she sounds fun." You state, Gar gives you a questioning look, shaking his head before his eyes widen, as if asking you to agree with him. You let out a sigh. "That's kind of fair though."
"Really?" Rachel snaps her head in your direction.
"You said it yourself, I did burn Dick. If she's also a metahuman or....an alien..?" You give Gar a questionable look before looking back at Rachel. "We don't know."
"Well, if she was like Kory, those cops wouldn't be alive right now." Rachel argues, looking back to Gar before grabbing a few Cheez-Its and offering the box to you.
"She can fight." Jason chimes in, taking a short break from fighting the air. "Alright, I'll give her that. Whoever she is, she's had training."
"Did you guys see her eye? When Dick was changing the bandages?" Gar asks, clearly going somewhere with this.
"What about it?" Rachel asks.
"It was gone." Gar scoffs, almost amazement in his voice. "But the wound had already healed." He leans forward as if not completely believing what he'd seen.
"Well, that's pretty sick." You give an approving smile.
"You serious?" Jason asks.
"She's been here one hour and the three of you are already obsessed with her."
"You don't think it's sick as fuck that she jumped from a roof, into a building and her eye is already healed? That's awesome." You defend your stance.
"She's a freak." Jason huffs, his voice a higher pitch this time. "Look my vote is we kick her ass out." You scrunch your face at Jason just as Gar starts.
"Okay, wait, who says we even get a vote?" Gar asks.
"Who says she even wants to stay?" Rachel argues. "Look, it's hard to believe but maybe her idea of paradise isn't sharing a bathroom with you, Jason."
"Well, I think she should stay, just for the record." You state. "Assuming, she isn't going to kill us all."
"You do?" Jason scoffs.
"Uh, yeah, as the newest person Dick found on the streets, my vote is yes." You hold your head up high.
"It'd be easier if we knew who she was." Gar states.
"I know how we can find out exactly who she is." Jason gets that knowing smile on his face, the one that always says he's up to no good.
"Do I get to participate this time?" You quip knowing exactly what Jason is up to.
"I thought you said it was wrong." Gar points out.
"Well, yeah," You scoff. "But, I wanna know if she's gonna kill us, especially if Dick gives us a vote. We should know who's sleeping under the same roof as us, right?"
"See, she gets it." Jason says with pride.
You roll your eyes at Jason before looking back to Gar. "You didn't get caught the first time."
"Alright, fine." Gar agrees, still not liking the idea of going behind Dick's back again to look into someone but he's not gonna say to Jason and you.
"You knew and you're okay with it?" Rachel questions. Rachel knows she would at least be pretty mad if the boys went and looked into her instead of just talking to her. She's surprised you aren't mad.
You shrug. "I mean, it would have been nice had they just asked but let's be honest, I wasn't gonna tell them shit anyway. So, I get it. They had to make sure I wasn't a serial killer or some psycho."
"We could talk to her. Maybe she's more open than you." Rachel suggests as you hand the box of Cheez-Its back to her.
"I don't know, Rach." Gar sucks in a breath. "She didn't seem too willing to talk since she was...trying to leave."
"I'm not helping," Rachel shakes her head with disapproval.
"No asked you to." Jason chortles.
"Shut up, Jason." Rachel groans.
"Can we just get back to training?" Gar groans, growing tired of the conversation.
You get up with the suggestion. "Please."
The four of you start your training again until Dick walks in to tell you you call it a night. The four of you go your separate ways to your rooms and the bathroom for your nightly showers. All of you choose to leave the girl alone in her room. Dick said she isn't up for much talking but he's got it all handled, whatever that's supposed to mean. So, the four of you wrap up your night and head to bed.
It takes you a little while to fall asleep. Ever since beating up Jerry, you’ve slept a little better. Nightmares still rear their ugly head about once a week but it's better. It went from every night to once a week, which is an improvement. Beating up Jerry didn't help you feel better about what you went through but knowing that he got to suffer, knowing that Dick turned him in and you saved a little boy from the same treatment, it did ease some of the weight from your bones. It's just a matter of dealing with and working through the trauma he left you with and actually being at the tower surrounded by these four strangers, which helps because to some extent, they all get it.
No one wakes up one day and decides to be a hero. There's something deeper about it and for the five of you, it's trauma. The want and need to not let another innocent person live with what you went through and there's something remarkable in that. But, that doesn't erase any of the trauma you've all gone through. And for you, seeing the new girl brought in in the same way you were, it brings everything you tied down back up to the surface. Another nightmare scares you awake.
You sit up straight in bed, eyes wide but weighed down with sleep. Your heart is thundering in your chest, the room dark beside the city light illuminating your room through the window. Your hands are shaking in your lap, glowing green, something you’ve never even told Gar about.
When the nightmares are really bad, it's as if it triggers the acid and your hands start glowing. Luckily, it's never been bad enough that you actually produce the acid and burn through the bed. But, it is something that scares you even more. If nightmares can trigger the glow, what else can? And does that mean you’re losing control of it? If you don't have control, then what? You don't actually want to hurt someone, especially by accident. But, you choose not to wallow in it because it's not going to do you any good and it's only going to make you feel worse. So, you snatch your phone from the charger and head to your door.
You tip-toe through your door, closing it behind you and make the short walk to Gar's room. The door is unlocked just like it always is and the pinball machines give a blue glow to his room with the city lights shining through his windows. A comforting smile tugs at your lips as you shut the door. The green-haired boy is curled up on the left side of his bed, facing the door and Gar always look so comfortable sleeping, lips parted lightly. He's a lazy sleeper and you think it's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
"Gar?" You whisper softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. Gar doesn't even budge. "Gar?" You call, shaking him slightly, stirring him awake.
He peeks an eye at you, his hair a complete mess. He gets this lazy-tired smile on his face as he sees you. "Nightmare?" His voice is rough and drenched in sleep, something you swear you could play on repeat for hours on end and never get bored. You nod softly, the smile falling slightly. Gar lifts the blanket for you. "C'mon." He mumbles, inviting you in.
"Thank you." You whisper to him, getting up and sliding under the blankets with him.
Gar turns over on his back, stretching his arm behind your head so you can lay on his chest. "Anytime." Gar looks down at you, this cute smile on his face that has the power just to make the world seem like a better place. Gar smiles at you and everything seems like it's gonna be okay, like nothing in the entire world will ever be scary again. There's a kind of magic about him and you adore every aspect of the boy with soft eyes and green hair.
You cuddle up against his chest, resting your arm over his torso and lightly gripping his t-shirt. You can hear Gar's heart and it's the most comforting sound you’ve ever heard. It's slow and steady. You remember the first night you went to him after a nightmare and it was awkward.
You didn't know what to do or say. All you knew was that he'd make you feel better and you didn't want to be alone. He did make you feel better but you were both...tripping over your own feet trying to figure out how to sleep or how not to. Gar didn't want to make it weird or be too in your face about it and you weren’t sure if you wanted to be too close him. It was a mess, actually but you settled on his chest anyway because that's what felt comfortable. That poor boy's heart nearly beat out of his chest for almost half an hour. He was so nervous.
He'd never slept with anyone like that before and he just adores you with everything in him. He never wants to mess anything up and he didn't know what to do. Gar followed your lead and it made him more nervous than he's ever been. But, there was a sense of comfort in it because you chose him to be with when you’re scared. Something about him, made you comfortable enough to fall asleep and sleep soundly. Something about him, felt right to you. And that makes Gar's chest swell every time you come to him for this. He wishes you'd do it more than just when you have nightmares but he never has the guts to ask. So, he wraps his arm around you while the steady pace of his heart lulls you to sleep.
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You wake up first, before either of your alarms. You've moved throughout the night, you’ve rolled over, facing the door while Gar's arm is lazily draped over your waist. You can hear him softly snoring behind you and you carefully roll over as to not disturb him. The peacefulness of his face makes you smile as you watch him. And for a second, you almost forget there are other people in the tower. You forget about your nightmare just a few hours before and everything, right now, feels so right.
You feel safe and happy and comfortable. And calm. Your brain is quiet with him. It's not bitter or cold or full of range. It is at peace with every horrible thing you’ve seen and been through. Just...peace. And maybe that's what it's all about.
Maybe, it's not about flirting all the time or who makes you question the intentions of everything for fun. Maybe it's not about shared trauma or experiences. Maybe, it's just about who's there for you when everything feels like it's caving in. Maybe it's about who sticks around when the darkness closes the blinds. Maybe it's just about the person who lifts some of the weight from your shoulders when everything gets a little too heavy and maybe it's about the person that makes you comfortable and finally lets you feel peace. Maybe that's what it's all about.
But, that’s all just maybes.
"Do you always stare at me when I sleep?" Gar mumbles, voice drenched in sleep as he opens his eyes, blinking slowly at you.
"No." You scoff, feeling your cheeks start to burn. "You were snoring." You brush it off.
"Sorry." Gar chuckles softly.
"It's okay, I don't mind." You give him a smile. "You're cute when you're sleeping through, you look peaceful."
Gar's eyes widen and you called him cute. What does he do? "Oh...yeah?" Gar asks, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. "Thank you. Uh, so do you." Gar offers, as if waiting for you to laugh or make a sarcastic comment but you don't. Your smile is sweet like honey.
"Thanks." You look away just as yours and Gar's alarms start blaring at full volume. "Ew." You grimace, rolling over and grabbing your phone from his nightstand, Gar doing the same. "Want pancakes?" You ask, looking back at him.
Gar raises a brow, you’ve never offered him food that wasn't a snack before. "Sure? You can make them?"
"Wow, rude." You let out a laugh, your voice still filled of sleep. "Yes, the fuck I can, Garfield."
Gar laughs, the use of his full name makes flowers bloom his chest. He doesn't normally like when people call him it but you? You call can him Garfield when it’s like that. "I was just checking! Vegan pancakes?" Gar raises a brow.
"Hey, there, what kind of monster do you take me for to offer you pancakes and not offer a vegan option?" You quip. "Of course."
"Sweet." Gar beams at you and you offering to make him pancakes makes him feel really important. "Do you need help?"
You shake your head. "Nah, consider it a long overdue thank you for letting me sleep in here and for dealing with my bullshit."
"I don't mind." Gar says with ease as a gentle laugh leaves his lips. He never minds being there for anyone, but especially you.
"I know but I'm gonna thank you anyway and make you pancakes because you deserve it." You give him a cheeky smile before tossing the blanket off of you and getting up from the bed. "You can watch though." You give him a wink, the heat rushing to Gar's cheeks and you watch his eyes go wide, mouth moving not knowing to say. You scrunch your nose as you laugh. "You're also cute when you get flustered."
Gar lets out a sigh and he thinks you might be the death of him one day. "I'm not flustered." Gar defends, sitting up before rubbing his hands over his face.
"Mhm, sure, you're not." You nod, words leaking of sarcasm.
"I'm not!" Gar defends further with a tired laugh.
"Okay." You shrug, turning on your heels. "Sure." You snicker. "I'll meet you out there."
"Yeah, okay." Gar nods, falling back onto his pillows as you leave, leaving his door slightly ajar.
You make your way to the kitchen, Dick is, of course, already in there with his coffee. It's been a month and somehow you still almost always catches him while he's in here. Surely, this man has other things to do in the morning but no, he is always here. But, you just 'morning' him and walk over to the drawer with the pans, pulling out a griddle. Dick watches you with a raised brow, casually sipping his coffee. You grab the ingredients including regular milk and soy milk for Gar, one of the non-dairy options Dick keeps stocked for him. You continue to rummage through the kitchen, casually glancing at your phone for all of the ingredients.
"What are you doing?" Dick finally asks.
"Making pancakes." You say with confidence, measuring the flour into a large mixing bowl.
"Right." Dick clicks his tongue. "Since when do you cook?"
"Why is everyone so shocked?" You scoff, measuring the milk for Gar's before grabbing a sticky note and a pen from the counter, marking the batter with ‘Gar’.
"You haven't cooked anything that doesn't go in the microwave or isn't frozen since you've been here."
"Well, that's because it's convenient." You quip as Rachel strolls in, sleep still in her eyes. "I like convenience."
"Is she cooking?" Rachel asks through a yawn.
You look at her with wide eyes, pausing what you’re doing. "Okay, seriously?"
"What the fuck is going on?" Jason chortles as he walks in. "Since when do you know how to cook?"
"That's what I said." Dick raises his mug at Jason.
"You know what, none for any of you!" You glare at them, pointing at them with a whisk, some bits of batter dripping off the end. "I'll clean that."
Rachel gains this knowing smile as she sits next to Dick. "Wait, are you making Gar breakfast?" She asks and your cheeks burn. Jason's heart plummets into his stomach. He always knew but it stings.
"What makes you say that?" You ask, trying your best to not be obvious.
"You have the soy and dairy milk out?" Rachel points at the different kinds of milk. "I also heard you leave his room."
"Okay." Dick says loudly, getting up from his seat. "I don't need to hear more of that. Good luck making breakfast. It's very nice of you, Y/n."
"Thank you, Dickolas." You give him a thankful nod.
"Left Gar's room, huh?" Jason asks and Rachel regrets saying anything.
"Yeah...." You say quietly, going back to your batter.
Jason knew, of course he did. You mentioned it to him in passing. You sleep in there when you have a nightmare. And neither of you hides it. It's not some big secret or anything but with Rachel actually mentioning it, someone else mentioning it, it's like Jason is suddenly much more aware of it and it hurts a little. But, he reminds himself that he never had a shot anyway.
He plays this fuckboy thing up so much but he's never been much good to anyone anyway. And he knew it wasn't him because of the movies and the way you talk to him. Jason hoped it'd be him, but the pit in his stomach told him it wasn't so the only thing he can do is brush it off because that's what he does. And you see it across his face, guilt flooding your stomach, almost making you nauseous but you ignore it and continue making breakfast because you like Jason and you like Gar. But dealing with that early in the morning doesn’t sound pleasant, so dodges your sinking heart.
"Want any?" You ask the two of them.
"Please." Rachel gives you a soft smile.
"Yeah." Jason nods, pulling out his phone and scrolling away.
You continue making breakfast as Gar strolls in, a bit surprised to actually see you at the stove. You really don't cook and it makes Gar chuckle to himself. Dick actually does a lot of the cooking but it really is rarely ever good so you normally end up with a frozen pizza or takeout. So, this is nice and something that Gar never really expected from you. You’re so snippy and sarcastic that whenever you decide to be soft, it throws him a bit but in the best way. You’re full of surprises and Gar wants to know all of them.
As the four of you sit down with your breakfast, Dick walks out with the new girl, explaining they were leaving for a bit. The girl made a comment about not wanting to stay which prompted Rachel to ask why. The girl didn't have much of an explanation, looking more like she just wanted to leave and not turn back. Dick didn't really say much else though and just like that, they were gone.
"You still wanna know who she is?" Jason asks, stuffing pancakes into his mouth.
"Obviously." You nod.
"Yeah." Gar sighs, eating his own pancakes. "Hey, these are really good." Gar compliments you.
"Everyone is so shocked." You laugh.
"How'd you learn to make them?" He asks.
"Oh, I can follow a recipe." You chortle. "I can make a sandwich from scratch, everything else I just Google."
"That makes sense." Rachel nods.
"Nothing?" You look to Jason, waiting for a quip. You fully expect him to boast about how he could do this in his sleep if he tried. Or how he’s had better pancakes from Denny’s or IHOP, something sarcastic at least.
"Eh," Jason shrugs. "I can do better." Jason gives you a smirk, choosing to shrug it off. 
"Mhm. Sure ya can." You nod.
The four of you finish up your breakfast and make your way to the new girl's room where Dick changed her bandage. Gar saw Dick toss her bandage in the trash and just like they did with you, Gar snatched it and brought it to the comms lab. Jason takes it from Gar and uses some of the technology to grab a blood sample to run through the computer. Gar takes a seat in the chair, you standing behind him and resting your arms on the back of the chair. Jason stands off to the side, eyes glued to the screen as Gar types away. Jason starts pacing a bit behind you as the screen starts loading, trying to find information on the girl.
"You're gonna burn a hole into the floor, Jay." You state, glancing back at him.
"Yeah? What if this is her plan, get Dick alone and attack him or some shit."
Gar and you both look over your shoulders at him. "I don't think she's gonna attack him, man." Gar lets out a sigh.
"Yeah, I think we're safe there." You nods your head while the two of you look back at the screen, the computer making a noise as it loads.
"Come on." Jason paces twice more before standing next to Gar. "Come on."
"Match identified." The computer says once everything has loaded.
"Rose Wilson." Gar says, leaning forward and clicking a button. "And that's her dad, Slade Wilson."
"Well, fuck." You let out a scoff.
"No...fucking...way." Jason says, eyes wide as he puts his hands on the computer panel, leaning forward as if not believing what he's seeing.
Gar looks between the two of you, confused. "What?"
"Deathstroke." Jason says, something cross between amazement and shock coming over his voice.
"Bad dude from, what? Five years ago?" You look to Jason.
"Think so, yeah. He killed one of the Titans." Jason explains, keeping his eyes on the screen.
"Wait, how do you know that?" Gar looks behind him at you.
"I had a lot of free time, Titans, Justice League, Robin, ya know? Found it all interesting. Deathstroke killing one of the Titans was pretty public. Aqualad, right?" You glance at Jason again for confirmation.
"Yeah." Jason nods.
"So, this girl, Rose is Deathstroke's daughter?" Gar asks, turning back to the screen.
"Seems that way." You let out a sigh.
"Think he did that to her?" Gar's voice is pained with the question.
"Wouldn't put it past him." Jason adds. "Dude is fucked up."
"We have to tell Dick, then. He has to know." Gar urges. "Maybe we could look further into him.
"Yeah, do that." You agree with him and the three of you watch, reading what shows up on the screen while you wait to inform Dick.
If Deathstroke is involved, surely that's something Dick would have clued you all in on if he knew. So, now it's up to the three of you to bring it to Dick's attention before Rose gets too close, just in case.
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series masterlist | masterlist | tag list
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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo​ // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders​ // @purplerose291​ // @lovelessamai​  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @thatfangirl42​ // @ghostkingblake​ // @im-done-with-this-im-out​ // @velvetskies​ // @lilylovelyxo​ // @cryinghotmess​
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sister’s night ~ steve harrington;stranger things
part one   part two   part three
word count: 1301
request?: no
description: during one of their annual sister’s nights, they have a heart to heart about boys, school, and their upcoming graduation
pairing: steve harrington x female!wheeler!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
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At least once a month, Nancy and I would have what we called a “sister’s night”. It was a tradition we came up with when we were kids. One night where we’d do whatever we wanted; no parents, no Mike, no anyone. Just us.
We decided to have it the following Friday. I was worried that Nancy was going to bring up the incident with Steve and Tommy. I still had no idea how to explain that to her. For the most part, no one at school was talking about the “why” of the situation. Just the fact that it happened at all. I rarely heard my name mentioned at all.
But Nancy would know if I was lying. If she asked, I knew I’d out our secret to her.
We were in her room, laying on her bed and listening to the new tape Nancy had gotten. The door was closed and everyone was downstairs, so we had the music turned up a little more than normal.
I was reading a magazine when Nancy sat up suddenly and turned the music down. She was looking at me with such seriousness that I felt my stomach knotting in nervousness.
“I have to tell you something,” she said.
I placed my magazine aside and sat up. “What is it?”
“I...I broke up with Steve.”
I knew this already (although Nancy didn’t know that), but I was so shocked that she was telling me that I guess it showed on my face. Lucky for me because Nancy took that as shock that she broke up with Steve.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” she continued. “It was a few weeks ago. I was...I was trying to figure out - ”
“Nance,” I said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to tell me if you weren’t ready. Was it a bad break up?”
“Well...I did it while drunk. I told him that I thought our whole relationship was bullshit because he let his friends bully me for being friends with Jonathan.”
I cringed. That definitely sounded a lot worse than Steve made it seem. “Yeah, I - uh - I heard Tommy say some...stuff about you and Jonathan Byers.”
Nancy rolled her eyes and laid back on the bed. “Oh, I know what he’s been saying. He deserved the punch he got from Steve the other day for calling me a slut.”
I felt my heart skip when she mentioned The Incident. “You know about that?”
“Yeah, Holly told me. How disgusting of him to bring you into something that doesn’t include you.”
I need to give Holly a gift for being the best friend ever.
I laid down next to Nancy again and looked over at her. “Is it true about you and Jonathan, though? Are you guys like...together?”
A small smile crept across her face. “No...I don’t know. I like him. Is that wrong?”
“Why would it be wrong?”
“Because I broke up with Steve not even a month ago. I shouldn’t like someone else already, right?”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Nance, you can’t control your feelings. There’s no rhyme or reason to them, they just happen. I’m sure Steve doesn’t hold any hard feelings over it.”
I knew for a fact that Steve had no hard feelings towards Nancy for breaking up with him, but I couldn’t tell her why I knew that. Instead, I said, “Well, he is being very friendly with Jonathan. I don’t think he’d be this friendly if he had hard feelings.”
Nancy gazed up at the ceiling. There was a dreamy look on her face. I couldn’t help but smile at her. If this was how Jonathan made her feel, I hoped they would be happy together.
I felt guilt bubbling in my stomach. I had never kept a secret from Nancy before, much less one that was this big. I always told her when I had a crush on a boy, when I had my first kiss, my first time. Holding this secret from her felt like the heaviest thing I ever had to carry.
Would she ever forgive me for not telling her? For dating her ex-boyfriend? Could I ever forgive myself for keeping this from her?
For a moment, I thought about telling her. I opened my mouth to speak, managed to get out, “Nancy?”
But when she looked at me, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her just yet. I wasn’t ready.
“I’m happy for you,” I said, lamely.
She smiled and I felt my heart sink further into my chest.
At what point would it be too late to tell Nancy about Steve and I? It had already been a week since the pool side incident, and almost a week since Steve and I went on our first technical date, and I still hadn’t said anything to her about it. It already felt like it was going on for too long, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her yet.
I’ll tell her soon, I thought to myself. I can’t let this go on for too long.
“What do you think things are going to be like when we graduate?” Nancy asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, like...everything is about popularity right now. You have Steve who was this super popular jock, but now he’s slipping down the high school hierarchy because he’s friends with Jonathan. And Jonathan is considered an outcast or whatever. And then there’s us, and we’re...”
She trailed off.
“You can say I’m a loser, Nance. It’s not a surprise to me.”
“You’re not a loser,” she said.
“In the high school hierarchy, yes I am. I’ve accepted it, you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”
“Okay, well, you get what I’m saying. It’s all about your popularity status right now. But once we graduate, what happens then? Does all of that just...go away?”
I hadn’t thought much about graduation, although maybe I should’ve. It was only October, so there were still many months between now and graduation. There was so much time between now and then, but at the same time there wasn’t much time at all. Soon enough, the college applications would have to go out, and then the acceptance letters would come in. I still had no idea what I wanted to do once I graduated, and it felt like there wasn’t much time to figure it out.
I definitely hoped the popularity stuff went away once we graduated. I couldn’t imagine going to college and still being branded the math loser while people like Tommy and Carol were the top dogs of college. If they even got into college. I couldn’t remember the last time that Tommy even passed any tests or exams, and Carol hadn’t passed in any assignments since sophomore year when she started dating Tommy.
“I think it does,” I finally responded to Nancy’s question. “I don’t think college has the same social structure as high school. Depending on where you go, there will be way too many new people that will outnumber anyone who would know us from high school.”
“It’ll be like a fresh start,” Nancy said. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.'
Nancy rolled onto her side to face me. I mirrored her position, propping myself up on my elbow.
“Promise me that no matter what happens - no matter if we go to different colleges miles apart or if we’re just down the hall from one another, we’ll still be close and we’ll still have these sister’s nights.”
She held up here pinky finger and I linked mine through hers.
“I promise,” I said.
God, I really hope me dating Steve doesn’t fuck this all up.
Tags: @itjustkindahappenedreally @ladyfallonavenger​ @sleepylunarwolf
Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!​
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motleyfam · 2 years
Note
hey! so its 4am and ive just finished my, um... fifth(?) reread of world's saddest breakfast club and like! aaahhhh!!!
do u got abything to tell us abt this story? like sbt the writing proccess or things u thought that did not make it in or hc or anything really. i dont have a question exactly, just wanted to hear you talk about it. im a bit. well. obssesed.
Oooh cool question! I definitely do!
World's Saddest Breakfast Club: Fun Facts
The opening line is a result of me angsting to @batmoniker about how I couldn't figure out how to start my fic, and her jokingly being like "I got you, bro. Ready? 'It was a dark and stormy night'" and then me just being stubborn and committing to the bit.
The story started with a vague idea of "everyone in the kitchen at 3am for different reasons and Jason channeling his inner short order cook." All I knew going in was the order I wanted people to appear, what was wrong with them (sick, hurt, insomnia, etc) and what food Jason would be making for them. Everything else I made up as I went.
If I could go back and change one thing about this fic, I'd reduce how long Jason was kidnapped to like, 6-8 days, max. 16 days seemed funny when I wrote it, but in hindsight, I feel like he'd be a little more fucked up in the story if he were really escaping from that many days of captivity lmao
I headcanon Dick as the kind of person who straight-up forgets to eat when he's preoccupied, and Jason as the kind of person who cannot FATHOM this concept. Jason absolutely will miss a meal if the situation calls for it, don't get me wrong, but he's aware the entire time he's doing it and it makes him super antsy. (This once turned into A Thing™ when Jason was like, 13 years old and staying with Dick for the weekend for some brotherly bonding and Dick forgot about lunch and by 5pm, Jason maybe sorta kinda had a minor panic attack about it. Dick was a lot more mindful of that moving forward)
Bruce's favorite food being lobster thermidor is a reference to the Lego Batman movie
I wrote this whole fic with Julia Child's recipe pulled up in one tab and my google doc in the other
At some point I realized that since I started with fresh lobsters, I was going to have to write Jason killing them, and it derailed me so hard that the fic nearly became about meatloaf instead. (Never mind the fact that Jason canonically kills human beings — that's totally fine. I just draw the line at him killing lobsters 😰)
(in the end I just kinda glossed over it and made sure they were already cooked before Damian appeared so I wouldn't have to address it 😬)
Dick's reoccurring shoulder injury is a reference to the DCAU where I swear that man has dislocated his shoulder/injured his arm at least 4x
The line about Tim being allergic/throwing up when he eats eggs was inspired by a line in chap 11 of @goldkirk's fic Hymn, which I've reread about 37x
Jason is correct— grits are fucking delicious and definitely not baby food.
My favorite line is "Okay there’s self-sacrificial bullshit, and then there’s whatever the fresh hell that is."
The idea for Cass being a big meat-eater comes from a comic panel where Steph offers her a plate of rice and beans and Cass says she needs meat and starts mischievously eying Steph's hamster. Can't find the panel to save my life, but I promise it's out there.
EDIT: finally found it!
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Steph's nickname of "Zombie Boy" for Jason is borrowed from @audreycritter's Cor Et Cerebrum series (which is a fucking masterpiece, btw)
This fic was gonna be called "Creatures of the Night" until batmoniker said Steph's line made for a better title
Several people have asked me whether Jason was really cooking Bruce's lobster to spite him, or if he was actually intending to make it for him all along. The answer is... both? Like Jason's kind of an unreliable narrator in that he's trying to convince himself that he's just doing what he's doing to be a little shithead when deep down it's all stemming from his need to take care of his family, you know? Like he'll never admit it, but that's where his heart is at.
To everyone who's asked for a part 2 where the family finds out Jason was kidnapped, I'm gonna be honest: the main reason I don't think I'm ever going to write that scene is because I can't come up with a good enough joke for him to make to accidentally out himself 💀
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Robbery Part 2
Here we go, Part 2! Hope you like it. 
Blurb: Villain has been robbed, a task that should have been impossible, but worst of all they have no idea who, how, or even what was taken.
Based in the OC world of a bigger project.
Part 1
CW: Mentions of torture, painful memories, swearing, capture, injury, interrogation
~
The room Civilian was put in was surprisingly nice. Not nice as in, it was a hotel they would stay at, but nice as in its not the worst kind of cell they could have been put in. It was a small, the centre taken up by a table and chairs, the side with the uncomfortable cot they laid in. Their hands were cuffed in front of them, which was a little rude, but at least their shoulder was wrapped in bandages and their knee had some sort of brace… thing… on it. Honestly they hadn’t thought that one was that bad, but if someone wanted to spend resources on them, Civilian wasn’t about to stop them.
On one side of the table, the side closest to them was a bottle of water and a snack bar. Beside the bed was a truth that Civilian ignored, holding their breath as they sat up. The room span but after a couple of seconds settled until they began the process again. They took in a long and steady breath before standing, using their good leg as the main support before experiment with pressure on the other.
They could put some weight on it, and the pain of pushing it was bearable. It was looking down at themselves during this process that they realised they were in different clothes. Some grey slacks and a plain shirt, at least not a hospital gown or something. But, worst of all, Civilian realised they had removed their sunglasses, Civilian eyes bare for the world to see. They let out a sigh moved passed it and limped to the table, taking a seat in front of the water and food.
They pushed both aside, looked up at the camera’s staring down at them, the little red light glaring back.
“Can we get this over with please,” they said, “I have a busy schedule.”
A very busy schedule, one they can’t even begin to figure out how to resume. How the fuck were they going to get out of this. They can barely walk and they expect to be able to escape Villain of all people? While their whole attention is on Civilian? There is no way they aren’t fucked, no way this isn’t the end and yet there is no way they can let this be the end. One way or another they are going to get out, they have to.
The door hissed, followed by a clunk before it opened and in walked, not Villain. Civilian knitted their brows together.
“Who the fuck are you?”
They closed the door behind them and with a sharp clank the door was locked again.
“I am Right Hand,” Right Hand said. “Villain is a little busy right now.”
Civilian snorted. “Sure, whatever you say.”
“Villain is a very busy person, lots on their plate. They don’t have time for little issues like you, that’s my job. To deal with the things Villain doesn’t have time to worry about.”
“Wow, that’s a low blow. Unfortunately for you I don’t have much of an ego to bruise.” Civilian leaned back in their chair. “Besides, what you are saying is absolute bullshit. I know what I stole, and I know that Villain cares a lot about it. If that thing got in the hands of the Heroes, or some megalomaniac Villain? Everything they have worked for would be destroyed.”
Right Hand cocked his head. “But you are neither of those things.”
“Do I look like either of those things?” They vaguely gestured to themself.  “I am a nobody.”
Right Hand stood at the side of the table, leaned on it.  
“A nobody who broke into the most secure facility in the entire world, and just killed a small army of people. That’s a lot for a nobody.”
“Now you are just trying to flatter me.”
“Not really,” Right Hand’s eyes narrowed, “I want to know how, because for obvious reasons we can’t have that happening.”
Civilian waved a hand. “Don’t worry, everyone else is too scared of Villain to try something like that. If it were that easy the heroes would be crawling through here by now.”
“So you’ve achieved something not even the heroes together could achieve?”
“I didn’t say that. What do they say about beginners luck and all that?
Now Right Hand’s brows furrowed as he studied Civilian, trying to understand the person sitting in front of him.  
“I am going to cut to the chase,” They said.
“Finally,” Civilian groaned.
Right Hand glared. “You get one opportunity to tell me what I want to know before I take the information myself.”
Civilian scoffed. “You want to torture me? Good luck.”
“No, we don’t find torture an effective method of information gathering. People will say whatever you want them to, to make it stop. We have much more efficient and accurate ways of retrieving information. So, what will it be?”
Civilian leaned forward, a stupid grin on their face. “Well now I am curious what this method is, option B please.”
Right Hand withheld another sigh.
“Very well.”
Right Hand stepped around Civilian, disappearing behind them.  
“This will not be pleasant,” Right Hand said.
Civilian smiled and looked up into the camera.
“We’ll see about that.”
Right Hand placed their hands on Civilian’s head and Civilian stiffened, Right Hand closing their eyes. After a second Civilian’s closed too.
It felt like what Civilian imagined it would feel like to have your brain grabbed by someone’s bare hands while you were awake. There was a yanking sensation and Civilian fell back into themself, appearing in a library. Not a big, grand one with towering ceilings and beautiful architecture, but more of a run down school or council library, shelves lining the walls, old wooden tables and chairs placed in the centre of the clearing they stood. From the clearing there were six pathways made up of bookshelves, leading off into darkness. Civilian sat down on one of the tables as Right Hand looked around the place.
“Wow, this is pretty cool,” Civilian said. “Is this my mind?”
“Yes,” Right Hand said. “This room is based off a place very dear to you. Sometimes a place you don’t even remember. From here I can access every single one of your memories, and if you don’t tell me how you got in, and where the things you stole are, I am going to go through each of your memories until I find it.”
“Oh, I see. So you get to just go through everyone’s personal shit to get what you want.” They leaned back on the table, “hm, and I am guessing the person gets to experience their memories while you go through them.”
“Yes,” Right Hand said, “it can be very emotionally taxing and for some people, extremely unpleasant.”
“I can imagine,” Civilian said. “There has to be a way you know what you are looking for though, otherwise that’s a lot of shit for you to sift through.”
“I have ways,” Right Hand eyed them, “I don’t think you are appreciating what’s about to happen here.”
Civilian smiled, bubbling with excitement and anticipation. “Probably not.”
“This is your last chance to give me what I want.”
Civilian just smiled.
“Suit yourself.”
Right Hand turned and headed towards one of the paths, glancing back at Civilian one more time only to see them still grinning. Their expression creased but Right Hand kept moving approaching the first pathway.
However, before they could walk through, a silvery barrier stopped them.
“You people are always so cocky,” Civilian said now leaning forward, elbows on their knees. “Thinking you can do whatever, whenever you want just because you’re powerful. Heroes and Villains, honestly these days there isn’t much difference between you and you all seem to think you are the only ones.”
Right Hand turned around, unable to hide the shock in their face.
“Are you stopping me?”
“What ever do you mean?” The sarcasm dripped from their voice. “You’re the one invading my mind, how could I possibly have any power against you?”
Right hand glared, walked to a different path but was once against met with the same silvery energy. They turned, looked around and suddenly all paths had a silvery sheen blocking it.
“How are you doing this?”
Civilian shrugged and hopped off the table.
“You’re the one who made the mistake of going into the mind of a person you don’t understand.”
They waved their hand and a chair appeared out of no where, ramming into the back of Right Hand’s knees and forcing them to sit. The moment their limbs touched wood, the wood twisted and grew, wrapping around them, holding them in place. Right Hand struggled, but the wood bit into their skin.
Right Hand looked up, mouth open but all words failed them. They were no longer in a library, there was only a single bookshelf here, between the tv and the couch. They stood in a wooden cabin, snow falling outside the window.
“How…”
“Hey you’re the one who opened up a connection between our minds, not my fault you thought you were the only one who could use it.”
Civilian said striding over to the bookshelf.
“What are you doing?”
“I might as well get some information while I’m here.”
“Stop,” Right Hand pulled against the chair.
They did, turned around and smiled.
“Oh darling don’t stress,” suddenly they stood directly in front of Right Hand. “Here why don’t you relax a little, go for a walk.” They kicked the chair and Right Hand flew back.
The room vanished and Right Hand fell.
Their life flashed before their eyes, every moment consuming them in an instant. They felt all the pain they’ve ever felt, all the joy, the sadness, the terror. It was a vortex of everything funnelling through them, around them. Right Hand had no sense of anything, no sense of how much time passed or even what was happening. They saw faces of people they never wanted to see again, memories they had pushed down deep, sorrows they had fought to move past. And perhaps even worse, they saw the happy memories connected to those, the good parts of their life long behind them, ended abruptly and painfully.
Right Hand plummeted, and suddenly they weren’t.
Everything stopped all at once and Right Hand was back in Civilian’s library, except now the tables were broken, books scattered and Villain was their, holding Civilian by the throat, blood dripping from their nose.
Right hand couldn’t catch their breath, couldn’t stop the memories.
Villain appeared beside them, hands on their now free arms.
“Hey, you need to breath, focus on breathing, draw it in slow, let it out slow, long, deep and controlled, ok?” Villain squeezed their arms, “in,” they released the pressure, “out.”
Right Hand struggled to take in a breath, following Villains pattern of pressure.
“Good, nice and slow.”
Right Hand looked up, met Villain’s eyes, then looked passed them.  Civilian had been pushed against the wall, the material bending itself unnaturally around their wrists to hold them place. They glared, the first real look of emotion Right Hand had seen since walking into that room. They glared at Villain, but the anger went further out then that.
Without thinking Right Hand stood, gaze fixed on Civilian. Villain stepped back, letting Right Hand walk forward.
“You are looking for something,” Right Hand said.
“I’m not in the mood to talk,” They said.
“You’re angry.”
“This has put a dampener on my day, yes.”
Right hand stared at them, head cocked brows furrowed as the picture, the feeling blurred a little.
“You are hiding it from me.”
Civilian scoffed, “of course I am hiding it from you, why wouldn’t I?”
Villain came to Right Hand’s side and placed a hand on their shoulder.
“We should go before they regain control,” Villain said.
Right Hand nodded and without hesitation broke the connection.
Everyone shot back into their own mind and a migraine began forming in Civilian’s head. They groaned, pressed their palms into their forehead.
“You’re right Right Hand that was unpleasant.”
Right Hand stepped back, balling the hands into fists to try and stop them shaking. Villain was beside them, removed their own hands from Civilian and looked to Right Hand.
“You go, I’ve got this from here.”
Right Hand nodded and left without a single hesitation. Civilian watched them go out of the corner of their eye, watched Villain come around them.  
“You just keep getting more and more interesting don’t you.”
Villain rounded the table and Civilian raised their head to watch them.
“What can I say, I’m an interesting person.”
They stared each other down, Villain now standing on one side of the table, staring into those silvery eyes. But that wasn’t the only interesting part about them. The silver leaked out of the bottom of the pupil, like paint dripping out of its container, creating three uneven lines under their pupil.
Civilian had the advantage at least. They knew Villain, knew what they were capable of, their history, their goals. Villain was an open book who had shared their pages with the world. Civilian on the other hand was a nobody, a mystery. Villain knew nothing about them and would continue to know nothing until such a time Civilian decided to share, and that was never going to happen.
“So, what are we thinking here?” Civilian said, snapping the silence. “You’re friends trick didn’t work, and unless you want a mind to mind fist fight, you attempting the same thing won’t work, and I don’t feel like sharing much of anything with you.”
“Yes, we seem to be in a bit of a situation don’t we?” Villain took a seat. “It must feel nice, having the upper hand on the city’s greatest villain.”
“I really couldn’t care less about it,” Civilian said. “I’m not really into that kind of stuff.”
“And yet you stole from me,” Villain said.
Civilian scoffed, “what? Do you think I did that as some sort of power play? You had something that I needed so I took it, its not much more complicated then that.”
“It is though,” Villain said, the darkness in their voice startled Civilian a little. Damn that’s intimidating.
“Because,” Villain continued, “you didn’t take just anything from me, you took three of my most powerful and dangerous weapons, three. The book and the amulet I can understand, they have many uses and if one figures out how to use them, you can essentially do whatever. However, I am struggling to understand what possible use you would have for a reality bending bomb.”
“Are you worried I am going to hurt someone with it?” Civilian asked.
“No, I am worried you are going to fuck up my plans. I have built a very careful structure in this city and its still growing. Its not yet self sufficient, and a chuckle head like you coming in with a bomb and a Dark Grimoire would really fuck with me day.”
Civilian nodded, “that does sound like it would be annoying.”
Villain sighed and let irritation into their expression, studying Civilian. Clearly showing off wasn’t the point, because this would be the perfect moment for them to boast about their triumph. They have some sort of mission, a reason to need what they stole, but other then destroying the city, if not the world, Villain can’t think of what they may want. A bomb is a bomb, there are limited non-destructive goals with that, and the grimoire, well that could be anything.
“Do you even know magic?” Villain asked. “That book has killed many people trying to use it, if you don’t know what you are doing it will swallow you whole.”
“Are you trying to scare me into giving it up?” Civilian laughed, “is that the tactic you are going with?”
Villain shrugged, “you aren’t giving me much more to work with.” They leaned back, crossing their arms. “I could start threatening you. I could threaten to find your family and kill each of them until you give me my stuff back.”
There is a flicker of something in Civilian’s expression, not so much a hint of something but rather a sudden and purposeful lack of expression, as if they were working to hide a reaction. Villain studied it carefully.
“It doesn’t have to go that far though, just give me what I want, and you walk out of here scott free, without a second thought in the world.”
Civilian scoffed.
“You don’t believe me?” Villain asked.
“No, because even if I give it back to you, you still don’t know how I did it. You won’t let me leave here until you know exactly how I did it.”
“Hmm,” Villain hummed, “that is a good point. You are a security risk now, and I can’t have that.”
“So we are at an impasse here because I am not giving anything up and you aren’t letting me go.”
An impasse indeed…
“What are you looking for,” Villain asked.
Once again that purposeful stoic-ness lined Civilian’s features and their eyes shifted to the side.
“Why out of all the questions I’ve not answered do you think I will answer that?” Civilian asked.
Villain shrugged, “you kind of already have. You just confirmed for me that you are looking for something. Does it have to do with family?”
“If you think you’re going to-”
“So that’s a yes,” Villain said, “is it a family member or something else?”
Civilian’s jaw tightened.
“You’re looking for a person,” Villain said. A smile found their lips. “You have a terrible poker face by the way.”
Civilian glared at them, silvery eyes fierce and shining.
“This still helps you none,” Civilian said.
“On the contrary now I know you want something and I have something to offer you.”
That twisted Civilian’s expression, their brows furrowing, lips curving.
“You want to offer me a deal?”
Another shrug from Villain, “why is that surprising? If your ultimate goal is something else and I want my stuff back bad enough, it makes sense to take away your need for my stuff and help you achieve your goal.”
Civilian’s jaw ached from clenching it. It was an absolutely horrendous idea, and Villain shouldn’t be trusted for even a second. Not to mention the fact Villain is leaving the security risk aspect out of this and that Civilian has no confidence that at any point Villain will willingly let them go.
But they know that already. They are already planning to escape on their own and if Villain can help them, then they would have even more chance of escaping…
Civilian let out a breath, looked at Villain.
“I am looking for my son.”
   ~
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@fishtale88
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pyrrhocorax · 7 months
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4 10 20 35 !
OKAY I know you asked this a bit ago sorry i got busy!!! work!!! turtle took a tiny chunk out of my finger!! the usual! y'know What's a headcanon you need to work out? i am blanking real hard with this but i Guess what i consider to be estonia's true name b/c von bock is von bullshit has been a constant Thought of mine for a long time. sme goes for a lot of nations that have bad canon names or no canon names like what the FUCK would i name them. it takes so much effort for me to decide. How long have you been in the fandom? What's your lore? i've been around a while! i can't date exactly when i started but it was at least sometime in 2008. i Think it was in the late fall of 2007, i've been trying to do the backwards math and i think this makes sense timeline wise, but my memory isn't exactly great. i figured out yesterday i am Pretty sure i was into hetalia before den/nor/ice were released?? which is. wild to me. anyway the story is that i occasionally saw hetalia fanart in passing and i was like. what the fuck is this but i don't care enough to investigate. and then i watched darker than black and was like wow i gotta tell my (now ex-)friend about this new cool anime darker then black b/c i am enjoying it a lot and i think she would too! and then my friend was like "i am going to totally ignore you. watch this thing called hetalia instead. you like other countries and history and languages and shit you should like this it's so funny" and i watched it and i didn't find it as funny as she claimed but i thought the concept itself was utterly Fascinating and i became Obsessed. my initial favs were japan/prussia/estonia initially, all for radically different reasons. i can elaborate on that if prompted it's just more text than i care to put here. then the den/nor/ice dropped and we had some comics with the nordic 5 and i was like oH FUCK these character dynamics between them are So Fun!!! and i have been in Hell every since. this is my third time getting back into hetalia after swearing it off for good and uhhh i think i have just been in denial this entire time that i am stuck here forever. Favorite Hetalia relationship dynamic? Any combination of the Anko Trio without question. they're such an interesting little complicated group. Post a Hetalia sketch or draft you want an excuse to share i am not very good at drawing and draw from the perspective of a more refined 8 year old child or something (positive). but i also don't have anything currently drafted writing wise that feels complete enough either so i am gonna share a dumb doodle i did and also share some upcoming things i plan on doing.
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one of the chapters of the SOS sequel is going to be called "The Joy Machine" and i am. very excited about that.
also have a neat NorAus idea i am obsessed with and will probably write soon-ish. once i sleep and think a bunch
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txxfiles · 2 months
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give me all the fics where the boys kiss
Hi! It looks like I'm week 3!
I honestly have no idea idea what im doing really but i guess you'll just have to listen to me ramble about something i enjoy. Seems to fit the theme we've accidentally settled on and well! if theres one thing im good at rambling about its bl fanfiction. i read ALOT of fanfiction. like 13million words worth of it in 2023 alone (an estimate but i did the ugly math for jan and feb last year and id already read 2.7 million words so i dont think its too high an estimate).
ive read fics from too many fandoms to count and also have way more hyperfixations then any one person has a right too but the one that has owned my ass consistently for the last 4 years is The Untamed otherwise know as Mo Dao Zu Shi (MDZS).
The lovely Eucalyptus from week 2 was watching the untamed during covid (and holy shit what a wild ride that was) and the next thing I know im neck deep drowning in fan art and tiktok edits of beautiful chinese men that have no business being as talented as they are (Im looking at u Wang Yibo) This. shit. fucked. up. my. life.
then i turned to my good friend AO3 (love of my life i could not exist without you) and 4 years later ive read my tags dry. if its complete, ive read it. im getting desperate and ive started reading works in progress, yikes. its so risky i honestly cannot tell you how much anxiety it gives me. ive been burnt too many times.
HOWEVER
this does mean if you need a fic recommendation then your girl has got you covered, so i figured i would share with you my TOP SIX fic recommendations. im sorry i tried to make it 5 but i just couldnt do it.
I will be chasing a starlight by feyburner & sundiscus 
Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 71,479 words - Complete
Omg. Wangxian Startrek AU. The pining, the miscommunication. I felt every range of emotion on this roller-coaster. I literally printed this out so that I could keep it forever. I wish I could read it for the first time all over again. This Fic hit AO3 like a comet. It even has it’s own Tumblr thread! Also comes with stunning fanart.
Paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 
Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 53,808 words - Complete
Modern Day AU, Musician/Single dad Lan Wangji falls in love with his son’s Art Teacher Wei Wuxian. I swear it's one of the cutest stories ever written, makes me feel all the good things. A-yuan is adorable and wangxian are hot and charming. The Ultimate wangxian comfort fic. 
Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller 
Jin Rulan & Wei Wuxian - 63,907 words - Complete
Jin Ling fishes his Da-Ju out of the gutter post canon (Literally dying alone in a dirty inn, Wei Wuxian it's been 5 minutes pls) and decides if no one else is gonna keep him then he damn well will. 
It is perfect.  
Junior Quartet goodness, Yunmeng bro reconciliation and Jin Ling being a boss bitch little shit that has no time for anyone's bullshit. I cried as much as Jin Ling did in this story – which is alot. (Also another story ive made myself a solid copy of that i can love forever)
Joy In The Mindst of These Things by Glitterbombshell 
Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 52,901 words - 5 Works
TEACHER WEI WUXIAN! I love this trope with my whole soul. Lots of adorable baby Lans, I would kill for them. Beautifully written. Lan Qiren gets a much needed wakeup call. Last story is incomplete but can be read without the 5th installment. SO WORTH IT, ive read it like 10 times
The One-Body Problem by mitisket 
Lan Jingyi & Wei Wuxian - 28,689 words - Complete
Well shit. How many times have a reread this story? I honestly couldn't tell you. Jingyi gets possessed by Wei Wuxian’s very tired soul pre canon and it changes nothing and yet everything. Their friendship gives me life and Jingyi fixes a lot of problems for his new bestie/mentor/uncle with his big mouth. Mom I love him 
The Edge of Night by Hobbsy3 
Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji - 277,225 words - Complete
The best Zombie Apocalypse au on the MDZS tag honestly. There are so many good zombie film references in this one, i see you Train to Busan. Baby junior quartet, a perfect Wei Wuxian modern day depiction and so much love, angst and stress. It's delicious and I've never recovered.  
All of these fics are actually part of a mother document i made last week of all my favourite fics organised by tag because apparently thats what i do with my free time. hit me up if you need a rec!
Now that ive gotten that off my chest i'll let you be lol. maybe I'll do a rec for a different fandom next time. I definitely have enough to choose from!
Lots of Love,
Iris
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