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sunflowergirl522 · 1 year

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Sucker

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Summary: You’re back after finishing your degree and you go out to celebrate with Steve and Robin.

Word Count: 3051

Eddie Masterlist

You’re back in Hawkins after finally completing your teaching degree. Sure you’ve been back for holidays and school breaks but this time you’re back for good. Your parents don’t seem to care that much but honestly when have they ever? If it wasn’t for Steve you probably wouldn’t have come home before now. He is the one who always made the journey out to get you after all, he even borrowed his friend's van to move you back.

“Y/n, are you almost ready?” Steve yells from down the hall. “Robins gonna beat us there at this point!”

“I’m ready Stevie hold on!” You yell back finishing pulling your plaid mini skirt up your legs. “Why didn’t we just pick Robs up again?”

“Because she had to close the store tonight it’d be quicker for her to just walk over to the Hideout. What are you wearing?” Steve freezes in the middle of pulling on his jacket as he looks up and sees you coming down the steps.

“Clothes.” Steve finds your description of the tight black tank top and short skirt ludicrous.

“More like scraps of fabric. Too tight and too short, go change.” You giggle at him continuing your journey down and to the closet you keep your shoes in. He’s always had that overprotective older brother vibe when it came to you even though he was younger than you.

“We don’t have time, remember we have to meet Robin. Besides, I have tights on too.”

“Fishnets don’t count as tights, especially not when you ripped holes in them.” His hands gesture to the hole in your right thigh and in your left knee.

“It’s a fashion statement Stevie, they look good. No one will even see the knee one, my boots go above them see.” You stand after shoving your legs into said black boots. “Now come on, let's go celebrate!” You grab your purse from where you set it down and rush out of the door before Steve can try to make you put a jacket on. He follows you out grumbling some more about your clothes but you’ve stopped paying attention, you’re too excited to see Robin.

You only got back to Hawkins last night and Robin wasn’t able to get off to help move you back because Steve didn’t tell her until it was too late. You met Robin at the end of your summer vacation two years ago when you got back home after a trip you took down to Florida with some friends from college. At that point her and Steve had become besties already but you were quick to befriend her as well. It may have been a four year age difference but that’s never stopped you before, you just liked to be friends with people, besides you were friends with Dustin anyway.

“Does the Hideout still do live music?” You turn to look at Steve as the thought pops into your head.

“Yeah. My friend Eddie’s band is playing there tonight I think.”

“Eddie.” You hum to yourself the name sounding familiar but you can’t place a face to it. “Do I know Eddie?”

“I don’t see how you would. I only became friends with the guy last year and you didn’t come home that summer because you had to retake that class you failed. I only met him because of Dustin.” He leaves out any hint to the craziness that happened like he always does, like he makes sure everyone else does. That’s something he and Robin have fought about in the past, he thought you were too pure to know anything about it and she thought you’d be able to handle it and he shouldn’t lie to you when you ask about what happened like you did with the earthquake.

“Okay.” You shrug and turn up the radio as Hip to Be Square starts playing. If Dustin introduced them you’re expecting this Eddie kid to be around his age so the name must just be familiar for no reason.

Steve pulls into the library’s parking lot like everyone else who goes to the Hideout at night does. It’s easier than trying to find a parking spot in its own parking lot. Robin comes running up to the car when she spots you guys getting out.

“It took you guys long enough! I thought for sure we were gonna miss the start of the show. Woah, Y/n you look hot!”

“Thanks Robs.” You pull her into a hug while Steve walks around the car to lead the way to the building across the street.

“Sorry we’re late Robin, Y/n takes so damn long to get ready.”

“And yet you put up a fuss and wanted me to change.” You pull away from Robin and nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “Now come on, I’m dying for a drink I couldn’t have any while studying for my finals.”

“Hey Steve, you think she experimented at all in college?”

“Stop ogling my sister Buckley and keep moving.” She laughs at him knowing it was gonna get a reaction like that and rushes forward to catch up with you.

Once inside you sit on one of the bar stools immediately ordering two Alabama slammers one for you and one for Steve who you knew had his fake on him if they asked to see it. You’re starting to down it before Steve and Robin even sit down.

“Woah slow down Y/n!” Steve frantically takes the drink from your hands to stop you from drinking it all in one go. “I don’t want to have to carry you home because you’re blackout drunk.”

“You’re such a party pooper Stevie.” You pout but slow down anyway pulling a lollipop out of your purse before handing it to Steve to hold for the night.

As the band starts playing you talk to Robin asking how she’s been and what she plans on doing now that she’s done with school. She tells you about how she’s planning on going to school for a film major after taking a gap year so she can work on getting her license first. All the while you enjoy the live music without turning to look at them.

Eddie notices you as soon as he steps onto the stage and looks around the bar. You look a little different but he definitely remembers you from when you both went to Hawkins together. You had been in the year above him and the two of you barely interacted but each time you did you were always so nice to him. He had a bit of a thing for you back then and maybe he still does because the moment he spots you in the crowd he starts to get a little nervous. His heart starts hammering in his chest, his hands start to get all clammy around his guitar, and he gets the urge to run. But then he spots Robin on the other side of Steve and it’s like she can sense how skittish he’s getting because she shoots him two thumbs up and mouths that he’s gonna kill it and he feels better.

You’re two drinks in when the band stops playing. You’re also on your second lollipop. They’re meant to help slow you down while drinking, it’s a trick you figured out after a specifically bad blackout at a party that your friend had called Steve to pick you up from as soon as she noticed you were way too drunk to be there anymore. In one hand you have a half drunk blue lagoon, your third drink of the night, and in the other your blue raspberry tootsie pop.

“Can I have a B-52 shot?” You bat your eyes at the bartender to keep his attention in the busy bar, not that you needed any help to do that.

“Coming right up.” You watch as he makes the shot, the layers of it sitting perfectly on top of one another. It was always fascinating and one of the main reasons you normally order it.

“Thank you!” He places it in front of you, sending you a flirty smile before walking away to help someone else and earning himself a glare from Steve. You freeze as you look between your two full hands and the shot.

“Stevie, can you hold the loli so I can take this shot?” You send your puppy dog face his way knowing it was hard for him to resist it.

“What, no that’s gross. Just put your drink down.”

“You suck, where’s Robin? She'd hold it for me.”

“She just went to the bathroom.” You groan and place your head down on the top of the bar.

“Can I get a beer?” The voice next to you causes you to lift your head up and look at the man leaning on the bar next to you.

“Eddie bear? That you?” Eddie’s heart immediately picks up at your old nickname for him.

“Y/n?” He looks at you and you recognize his pretty brown eyes immediately.

“Eddie bear!” You sit up so fast that some of your drink spills over the sides. “Oops. Will you hold my sucker so I can do my shot?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I could kiss you again!” Eddie goes red as you hand him the candy and go to take your shot.

“You two know each other? And you’ve kissed?!” Steve’s eyes are wide as his angry shocked voice comes out. You nod, swallowing the mouth full of alcohol you just shot back.

“We knew each other in high school. He was a grade below me, we didn’t really have any classes together till my senior year though. We shared a drama class.” You take the tootsie pop back from Eddie placing a kiss on his cheek before popping it into your mouth.

“We had to do a scene from Romeo and Juliet together that included a kissing scene.”

“Mmhmm.” You nod in agreement, turning away from Steve and back to look at Eddie. “You were cute in high school, but you’re like super cute now.”

“Eddie, don’t listen to her. She’s a little drunk and she gets flirty when she’s drunk.” Steve points at his friend glaring at him from over your shoulder. You go back to sipping your drink unaware of what he’s doing.

“You’re like super cute now too.” Naturally Eddie ignores Steve and leans towards you, his arms resting on the bar. “Love the outfit but aren’t you chilly.” He fingers a strap of your tank top and your shiver.

“A little but I’m fine.” He just shakes his head at this and slides his jacket off before holding it out for you to stick your arms through. You stick the loli in your mouth putting that arm through before switching your drink to your other hand and sticking the other through. “Thanks again Eddie bear. How do you guys know each other?”

“Dustin.” They say at the same time and you gasp.

“You’re the Eddie in a band! Was that you playing earlier?”

“Yeah, did you like it?”

“You were great! Is it true that bass players are good with their hands?” You lean into him.

“I don’t know, probably.” The innuendo goes right over Eddie’s head and he rubs the back of his neck.

“You wanna find out with me?”

“Okay Y/n I think it’s time to go.” Steve pulls you back and flags down the bartender to pay.

“What about Robin?”

“She’s heading back over now.”

“What if I don’t wanna leave? I’m busy talking to Eddie.”

“You know Eddie just graduated last year.” Steve’s hoping that saying that will turn you off of him but it doesn’t seem to work. Your attention just goes right back to him.

“You let Steve graduate before you?”

“Yeah, school isn’t really my thing. I was too distracted with other things.”

“You just didn’t have the right kind of teacher to keep your interest. I’m hoping to be the right kind of teacher for kids next year.” Hawkins had lost a few teachers after the earthquake last year due to people moving out of town and practically hired you on the spot after you reached out to them before graduation. You’ll bounce between the middle school and high school as a sub for the first year and then they’ll find you a permanent place for the next one. “Were you and Steve not friends when you were both seniors?”

“No he was still calling me a freak at that point.”

“Steve!” You gasp out clumsily slapping the back of his head. “That’s so mean. You’re not a freak Eddie.”

“Woah what did I miss? Why are we slapping Steve? What’d he do? Hey Eddie.” Robin comes back not sitting down as she sees Steve paying.

“He called Eddie a freak.”

“It was a while ago Princess, it's alright you don’t have to defend me right now.” Eddie catches you as you stumble getting off of your stool. You almost visibly swoon at the nickname princess.

“You know Steve, you would’ve liked my Eddie bear in school. He once started a fight with a guy because he slapped my ass in the hallway. My knight in shining armor.” You sigh leaning back into him, tilting your head back to look up at him. “D’you wanna come home with us?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking you Steve.”

“Yeah, I’ll come by for a little bit but I shouldn’t stay for long.” You beam up at him grabbing his hand and leading the way outside.

“I’m gonna go with Eddie, I’ll see you at home Stevie. Bye Robin, I’ll see you tomorrow for movie night?”

“Yeah I’ll see you then.” She pulls Steve towards his car before he could start an argument about you going with Eddie. You look up at Eddie expectantly and he leads the way to his van.

“Do you still play that silly little game? What was it called again?” Eddie doesn’t take offense over your words, he knows there’s no maliciousness in you calling the game silly.

“Dungeons and Dragons?”

“That’s it!” You jump a little in your spot as he unlocks the van excited he knew what you were talking about. “D’you still play?”

“Not as much as when I was in school but yeah I still do.” He opens your door and helps you into the seat, buckling you in before moving away and shutting the door.

Eddie has to pinch himself on his way around to his side to make sure this is real. The girl he’s been dreaming about since sophomore year when you first interacted with him is sitting in his van asking him about dnd, a fact he was sure you would’ve forgotten about him.

“So how do you know Dustin?” You ask as soon as his door is open and he’s jumping in.

“He joined Hellfire his freshman year and it was my last year there as a senior. I’m assuming you know him from Steve?”

“Mhm, he’s a cute kid.” You reach over to turn the stereo on then and Eddie cringes into himself as a W.A.S.P song starts playing full blast. But you just giggle and turn it down. “That was loud.”

On the way home Eddie asks you all kinds of questions about how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. If you asked him something he’d answer but then he’d change the topic back to you. It’s like that the whole drive and when he parks in front of your house he gets out first before rushing over to your side to help you out.

“I can’t wait to get these boots off.” You practically collapse onto the stairs once inside and start pulling on them.

“Hold on Princess, there’s zippers, don't want you to break them.” Eddie kneels down in front of you brushing your hands away so he can help you out by unzipping your boots and pulling them off.

“Thanks. Now c’mon we can hang upstairs.” You grab his hand and pull him up to your room.

As you sit on your bed Eddie glances around taking in almost completely bare gray walls. The only things you seem to have hung up are Polaroids of you and your friends, he can spot some of the kids scattered in the mix of people he doesn’t know along with some of Robin. It’s mainly just a lot of you and Steve from throughout the years.

“I used to have posters and stuff up but then I moved for school and took them all down.” You explain your empty walls hating that there’s nothing up to make your room your own anymore. “The polaroids are the only things that have survived each move I made.” You lost or ruined most of your posters moving from the dorms into the apartment you had the last three years being there. You were always super careful with the pictures though, not wanting to lose any of them, especially the ones of you and Steve when you were younger. He’s always been your best friend.

Eddie hums in response, moving to look at the bookshelf you have your records and tapes on.

“You know, I had a crush on you back when we had that drama class together.” Eddie’s eyes widen in shock and he whips around to face you.

“Really?” You nod smiling at how cute he looks as he starts to get shy. “I uh, I actually had a bit of a thing for you back then too.”

“You still have a thing for me? Because I can see me having one for you. We could try it out and see if we fit.”

“I’d like that, but how about you let me ask you out properly tomorrow when you’re sober? That way you don’t end up regretting anything in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t regret anything but fine.” You pout falling back onto your bed and staying down for a few seconds before sitting back up with a small tempting smile on your face as you lean forward. “Wanna help me into my pajamas?”

Eddie Taglist (Closed): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @munsonswhore86 @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @magicalchocolatecheesecake @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirling-4-ever @gaysludge @audhd-dragonaut @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar @goldylions @venomsvl @zbeez-outlet @eddie-swhore @haileighboi @myownworstenemyyy @sharnnnnnn @bratckerman @spacedoutdaydreamer @livslifeonline @phantomxoxo @mushroomelephant @hb8301 @ginnupp @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @cole22ann @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriuslysmoking @ladybug0095 @toobsessedsstuff @3rriberri @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @ficlibrary420 @literally-a-ferret @sparkletash @herejustforjj @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @frogsdeservelovetoo @quixscentsposts

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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butwhyduh · 3 years

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Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years

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Only Vampires

(Story Post)

Nari wasn't sure why he trusted these two vampires, but he wanted to know what they knew and so he followed them to their home. They didn't live more than a block north of where the library stood. They must've lived there a long time to afford such a big house, but then again, he had no idea what the housing market was like here. Either way, any active and diligent vamp over 100 years old could secure themself considerable wealth if they tried. Nari himself hadn't focused on capital during the majority of his life though, but he still did well for himself. The front doors of the house were very big, with stained glass windows, but Wesley and Everett took him around to the back door which was average sized and let no light in. This wasn't an issue right now as it was an hour to midnight, but he guessed that any daytime travel came through here, so they'd grown accustomed to it.

Inside was a small mudroom with another door at the other end. Nari waited for Everett to take off his shoes before he removed his own because wasn't sure what the traditions were in this country, but he was only further confused when Wesley took his shoes off but Everett kept them on. “Um, shoes on or off?” Nari had to ask. Wesley wacked Everett's leg with his loafer. “Shoes off, please.” Nari was relieved and did as told. “Alright.” “I'm not sure why we adopted that,” Everett said, reluctantly removing his footwear and then promptly putting on a pair of slippers. “My family always wore their shoes inside, his family wore shoes inside… Not to mention, it doesn't matter at all what Wesley wears.” “It's for our housemates,” Wesley said. “We have several housemates from across the world, you'll find Nari. The general consensus has been shoes off. We do our best to be accommodating.” He then proceeded to pull out a set of wheel slippers and socks and maneuvered them onto his chair. Nari thought for a second and then raised a hand. “I hope you don't think I need somewhere to stay. I'm well established.” “No, no,” Wesley said. “We just like to help anyone when it comes to library matters. As you may have noticed, it is not very accessible to all vamps of all shapes, abilities, and colours. We like to help anyone find the knowledge they need.” Nari nodded. “I see. So you steal the books for them.” “I told you, we borrow them,” Everett said as he led them through to the main hall. “Evie does think of himself as a modern-day Robin Hood of Knowledge, though,” Wesley said. The main hall was a lot more modern than Nari expected for a house apparently full of vampires. It was open concept with a lovely kitchen with granite counter tops. Further on was the living room and stairs, both up to the next floor and down to the basement. An elevator had also been installed beside the stairs for easier access to all floors. Nari’s hosts took him down to the basement, which was set up as a games room and study. There was pool, and darts, and even a pinball machine on one side. Some lounge chairs, a sofa, and a set of bookshelves on the other. There, they found another pair of vampires, one with her nose in a book, the other passed out on the couch, an open book on his chest. “Ah, glad some of you are here,” Wesley said going over to the reading nook. “Inaya, please meet Nari. We met him at the library.” The conscious vampire got up and smiled. She wore a hijab and had big round eyes framed with detailed eyeliner. She offered a hand to Nari. “Nice to meet you. Are you looking at a room?” “No, no, I’m just getting a little extra help with my research,” Nari said shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met, well, a vampire like you.” “A hijabi vampire?” Inaya chuckled. “Me neither. That’s why I’m here.” “To find more?” Nari asked. “No, to learn about being a vampire,” Inaya said. “I didn’t know anything about them really until I was turned, and I didn’t have any other vampires around to teach me. Figuring out how to be a vampire and muslim at the same time is difficult. Blood is haram, you see.” “Ah.” Nari nodded. “Have the books been helpful?” “Some, yes. Wesley seems to know how to find me good reads,” Inaya said. “I’ve tried entering the library on my own, but it’s always been a hassle. They always find some excuse not to let us in.” “I understand,” Nari said rollimg his eyes. “It's a different excuse each time.” Everett went over and kicked the end of the couch to wake its occupant. “Rise, Jeremiah! Meet our guest!” Wesley frowned. “Evie, let the boy sleep. He's probably been studying tirelessly, the poor kid.” It was too later however and the sleepy vampire stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The book he had been reading fell off his chest and onto the floor. The bang made him curse and scramble to pick it up. “Shit, it better not be busted… These old ass books…” “Language, Jeremiah. You know the rules,” Everett scolded. “Shit, sorry, Ev,” the vampire huffed. “Not my fault you woke me up.” “I have half the mind to discipline you,” Everett said, crossing his arms. “Yeah, that’ll look good, you pasty old Brit beating my black ass…” the young vampire mocked. He noticed Nari. “Who’s this little mosquito?” Wesley put a hand on Nari's shoulder. “This is Nari. We're helping him in his research.” The other got up and offered a hand to the newcomer. “It's Jez, but these old farts insist on calling me by my whole name like they're my damn mother or something.” Everett huffed. “Seriously, if you don't straighten out your language, I'll—” “The entire concept of vulgar language is inherently racist,” Jez interrupted, his entire diction changing just to prove a point to old Everett. “My use of swearing is not abusive, but instead cathartic, emphatic and idiomatic, forms of swearing that are not meant to offend anyone. For you to tell me what words I can and cannot say is a blatant form of oppression and reduces my abilities to cope with pain or misfortune.” Everett frowned, his lips pursed. “Fine. But could you tone it down just a bit?” “No.” Wesley came up behind Everett and patted his back. “Relax. We're all adults. Anyway, where's Paolo?” “He's in his room,” Inaya said. “Probably working.” “Ah, okay. Nari can meet him later,” Wesley said approaching the coffee table. From out of nowhere, he pulled out a book and offered it to Inaya. “I found an Arabic tome with stories from Turkey in it. I’m hoping it might help you.” “Oh! Maybe!” Inaya took the book gratefully. “I appreciate it, Wes!” “Where did you pull that book from?” Nari asked, a bit dumbfounded. “The library?” Wesley said, a little confused by the question. “No, I mean… I didn't notice it on your person before,” Nari said. “Oh! It's pocket magic,” Wesley said. “Easier than carrying them around.” “Pocket magic is some real basic level shit,” Jez said, eyeing Nari. “If you don't know that, what abilities do you have?” Nari shook his head. “…I never learned vampire magic. Well, except a blood purifying spell I found the other day.” Everett placed his hands on Nari's shoulders. “Oh dear, so you've just been going about your life with all the cons and none of the pros to the whole vampire thing? Sounds miserable!” Nari frowned. “I didn't know I could learn any of it…” “You absolutely can!” Everett said. “We will show you the basics.” “Honestly, it's fine…” Nari said. “I don't plan on sticking around long, and my partner has enough magic for the both of us…” “Your partner knows magic but you didn't know you could learn it?” Inaya asked. “They didn't try to teach you?” “He’s not a vampire,” Nari said. “He doesn't know what I'm capable of doing as one.” “What is he, then?” Jez asked. “A dragon?” “No, he's a wizard,” Nari said. “A wizard?” Wesley inquired, his voice a little concerned. “Like, a human wizard?” “Uh, yes,” Nari said. “The magic isn't the same, though he's convinced he can learn vampire stuff…” Everett started shaking his head. “Do you always engage in romantic relationships with humans?” “Yes.” Nari frowned, reading the negative energy coming from his acquaintances. “You say that like it's bad. Are you going to tell me we're not supposed to do that? It's taboo or something?” “No, it's fine! I mean…” Everett put his hands on Wesley's shoulders. “He was unturned when I fell for him…” “But we weren't trying to reproduce, that’s for sure,” Wesley said. He placed a hand on Nari’s arm. “It’s no wonder you’ve been having trouble… You can't have children with humans. It never works.” Nari clenched his jaw. “That's not…My information came to a 1-in-8 chance that a vampire can complete live birth.” “It's more complicated than that,” Everett said, pulling out one of the books be grabbed. “It's likely the one successful time out of eight, their partner was another vampire. The odds are much better with two vampires. Like, 1-in-3.” He opened to a page that displayed a large family tree on it. “Any time in history that a vampire successfully completed a pregnancy, both parents were vampires. Any pairings with children from one unturned and a vampire were from before the vampiric parent had turned. Or, there has also been the occasional time a vampire sired a child with an unturned person, but it is rarer.” Nari frowned and sat down on the couch. “But…I… Isn’t there any magic that can help?” Wesley shook his head. “Not that we've found. Your best bet is to try with a vampire.” “But I don't want a child from someone else…” Nari said. “I want one with Diederich.” “I'm surprised you even date unturned,” Jez commented. “It's sad stuff watching humans grow old and die all the time…” “Diederich isn't just any human, he's immortal too,” Nari said. “He knows really powerful skills and spells.” Jez rolled his eyes. “So, easy fix. Just turn him.” Nari shook his head. “No, I can't do that.” “I could teach you,” Everett said. “Or I could do it.” Nari glared. “No, I don't want to turn him. I wouldn't do that to someone.” Everett sighed. “Nari, I don't know what to tell you. Your goal is to have a baby with your partner. Both of you need to be vampires for that to happen. That's all there is. We don't have any other advice.” Nari looked down at his hands, his eyes brimming with tears. “So, all those times I tried… Complete waste of time...” Wesley rubbed Nari’s shoulder. “You didn't know…” He looked to Everett. “Would you give us a moment? All of you.” “Of course, love,” Everett said, kissing Wesley on the forehead. “Come along now, children.” “We are not your kids,” Jez groaned as he got up reluctantly and followed Inaya and Everett upstairs. Once they were alone, Wesley sighed and rubbed Nari's arm. “Before you turned, did you have any children?” Nari slowly and sniffled. “Yes… My son, Tae-seok. He was just a baby when I turned…” “Is he alive?” Wesley asked. “No… He passed away around the turn of the millennia…” Wesley sighed. “When did you start trying for another baby?” “We tried for several years when Tae-seok was young… But his father, Eun-young, died in a factory accident when Tae-seok was still a child. I didn't try again until well after my son passed away too.” “With your current partner?” Wesley asked. Nari shook his head. “No, my previous relationship. It was an accident… But I wanted it to work out. I had a little hope.” “I'm really sorry, Nari,” Wesley said. “It must be difficult to hear about the circumstances of your pursuit… And I'm sorry about Evie. He thinks turning people will always fix everything. It doesn't.” “But he's right though… If Diederich were a vampire, we'd have a much better chance,” Nari said spreading his hands. “If he were turned, we could try…” Wesley shook his head. “I can tell, you don't want to do that. It sounds like your experience with being a vampire has been more negative than positive and you don't want to subject someone else to that.” “I don't. Diederich is… He’s so lovely, and he's happy…” Nari said. “I don't want to take that from him.” “I understand. It isn’t easy. I don't always love being a vampire either… And I certainly wouldn't make that decision for someone else,” Wesley said. “You do realise that if you did manage to give birth to a baby, you'd be choosing a life as a vampire for them too?” Nari blinked. “Yes, but… I…” He paused. “…With Diederich, since he's unturned, I thought that they might not be…” “Well, even if you could reproduce with a normal human being, you’re a vampire. Your kids would be vampires.” Nari grit his teeth. “…I guess I just…you know, if I could have a baby again, I didn't care what they were… But now just saying it, that’s sounds so incredibly selfish… To subject my own child to the exact same curse I've suffered for their entire life…” Wesley rubbed Nari's knee. “I think you need to think about your situation and talk to your partner. Really work out what path makes the most sense for both of you, and any possible children in the mix. What's best for everyone is what is important.” Nari nodded slowly. “Yes… I just want to be with Diederich… I should go…” Wesley checked his watch. “Where are you staying? Evie can drive you over.” “It's okay, I can walk…” “No way, this time of night, any drunk vampires tumbling out of a bar will want to pick a fight, and while I'm not saying you can't hold your own, you don't know much magic and vampires around the library know their stuff.” Nari sighed and told Wesley his hotel. “I do appreciate you guys trying to help me… You’re honestly the nicest vampires I've ever met.” “Aw, it's nothing,” Wesley said going to the elevator. “Each of us understands the difficulty of being accepted in the vampire world. But we've been very lucky and those who have should give.” “So, is this sort of a boarding house for vampires using the library?” Nari asked. “Sort of… We keep the rent super cheap though because the house was paid off many, many years ago. Our housemates just split utilities. Evie and I cover the taxes and insurance.” Wesley smiled. “If you ever need somewhere to stay, we'll be here. First month is free for long term. Of course, we won't charge you if you just want to come over and visit.” Nari nodded. “That's more than generous, thank you.” They rode the elevator together and met with Everett at the back of the house. “Good talk?” Everett asked, spinning his car keys. “Yes, I think so,” Wesley said. “Inaya and Jeremiah are back in their rooms, then?” “Yeah.” Everett unlocked the door. “Alright, Nari. We won't keep you any longer than you'd like. Wes said you needed a ride, yes? Come along.” Nari blinked. “When did he tell you?” “Come on, now.” Everett placed his hands on his hips. “You really do need a rundown on basic magic. You could teach toddlers mind connection.” “I really don't know anything, then…” Nari frowned following him out. Wesley waved as they left. “Hope to see you soon!” Nari waved again before going to the garage with Everett. “You should consider coming back tomorrow night,” Everett said, unlocking the car. “Jeremiah will teach you everything you need to know.” “I might take him up on that. At least I'll have gotten something out of this trip.” “Well, there you go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” “Hm… Yes, I suppose.” “Oh, and you still have to meet Paolo! He’s Asian like you too! Wouldn’t guess from his name though, would you?” “You really don’t think before you speak, do you?” “Hey, respect your elders.” “Sorry, grandpa.”

#lore #Nari #Everett #Wesley #Jez #Inaya #vampire

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

A Fool for Love| Steve Harrington x Reader

MASTERLIST

Words: 7,354 OOF

Warnings: swearing, Shakespearean English, general fluff

Author’s Note: So I got inspired by @jxnehxpper‘s headcanon on Steve being a secret theatre lover and set to giving us what we deserve-Steve being a little theatre kid. And then I told her about it. And then I reread it. And now I’m doubtful of what this even is and how long it is. Good luck I guess

Tag List: @marvelslut16 @shinydixon @jxnehxpper

The laces were too tight. You couldn’t breathe. You were going to faint once you got up there. And your sleeves were too tight. You were already sweating through the long sleeves. Damn your overconfidence and crappy old patterns. And damn the seventies for making their bodices too tight and tan suede lacing so pretty over rouge coloured linen. And your shoes were too loose; they were going to fall off the second you took a step. Stupid Tammy Thompson and her stupid wide feet. You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Mrs. Blackburn loved to plan out a big spring show without thinking about how many students would be there on auditions. She chose these bombastic plays without thinking about who was actually going to be there. The drama club was made up of about ten members, who’d all be there on audition day, and that was usually it. And Mrs. Blackburn would throw a fit about it to you, her trusted right hand man with a plan. Then she’d spend her classes kissing ass to get students to come out for promised roles after stroking their egos enough to get them to bother with extracurricular theatre. Most kids took the class for an easy A, a quick passing grade that would boost their GPAs without making them want to claw their eyes out. Only a certain type of student would go through with this sort of embarrassment.

So when Mrs. Blackburn announced the spring show to be an abridged version of Twelfth Night, a choice you thought was decent enough. Cutting down the b-plot with Malvolio and the servants made the story run smoother and cut a metric crap ton of roles. Unfortunately, Mrs. Blackburn didn’t have the heart to cut the fool, which meant that she needed another guy to be in the show. And your little crew of nerds only had two boys. If only cross dressing was something she deigned to allow, alas Mrs. Blackburn believed firmly in women playing women and men playing men, which made it even harder to cast anything. It was ironic, knowing the actual plot of the play she’d chosen. Still, now she had a little challenge to hum and ha over for a month before casting the thing.

It was during this casting point that you heard quite possibly the worst idea you’d ever heard.

You often ate lunch in Mrs. Blackburn’s classroom. The entire drama club did. It was a nice, quiet place where no screaming teens or bullies could attack a boy for trotting around in a kilt from costume cupboard and kick a girl for her looks if they didn’t conform to what was considered pretty by the rest of the school. A hodgepodge of personalities grew in there like bacteria. Usually, there shining saviour would eat in the teacher’s lounge with the rest of the staff, but as shows got closer, she’d make sporadic appearances.

“Y/N!” the door slammed open, Mrs. Blackburn standing in the doorway, her wild red curls bouncing wildly around her tiny face, her thin pointed glasses slipping off her nose. “I’ve done it!”

“You’ve done what?” you looked up from your sack lunch. Mrs. Blackburn looked a mess. Her olive green paisley skirt was stained with coffee and her raggedy cream blouse was flashing her bra to the world. She looked as if she’d gotten dressed in her donation bag. You had a sort of love-hate relationship with the woman. She was like a second mother to you, which meant that you loved her unconditionally but hated her in the moment.

“I’ve found us a diamond in the rough,” she marched over to the desk. As always, you’d taken over the teacher’s desk. You were the only person she trusted to sit there with her unmarked tests and unopened lipsticks gifted to her by Lisa Gardner’s Avon selling mother. Her hands slapped the fake wood “I’ve found our Duke Orsino.”

You watched from behind her as both Gordon Fisher and Dale Michaels deflated behind you. The only boys in the club would kill for a leading role. They shouldn’t have to kill, there were only two of them; there shouldn’t be a fight at all. But Mrs. Blackburn liked to do a bit of stunt casting within the Hawkins High School student body.

“No one has been chosen yet!” you turned you attention directly to them. Of course, that was a blatant lie. Both you and Mrs. Blackburn already had pretty much the entire show cast before auditions had even been announced. Dale would play the jester, who Mrs. Blackburn had flagrantly rewritten as a sort of narrator, believing herself capable of rewriting Shakespeare, and Gordon would play Sebastian. He was fundamentally much more attractive than Dale, and much less mockable. Dale was the kid hiding in the classroom in a kilt from Tommy H, which he was wearing because he ripped his pants and didn’t want to walk around with his stained tighty whities.

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Blackburn, a small excited smile spreading across your face. “Who is it?” you asked.

“Oh he’s simply marvellous! He’s in our afternoon class, a Mr. Harrington!” Mrs. Blackburn had a dreamy grin spread across her face, her hands linked together in front of her chest.

Your smile dropped “Steve? Really?” This had to be a joke. Steve was in your drama class so to speak, he was never there. He skipped every class and only showed up for tests and to do graded performances. And his performances were shit. He was never off script and even with the script in front of his face he couldn’t keep the lines straight. He was useless!

“Oh yes yes! We had a very interesting conversation just a few moments ago and he’s very intrigued by our production and I think that he’ll make an interesting, dynamic choice for the role!” Mrs. Blackburn mused, her arms floating around as she spoke as if she was performing Swan Lake instead of properly explaining her decision.

“So, he’s coming into audition?” you asked slowly, leaning on your elbows. Mrs. Blackburn nodded. That was a surprise. The great king of Hawkins high bothering to join the unwashed, artistic masses? That was a shock. You expected him to just demand the role to be his. Not that you thought he’d read the play. You doubted he’d even skimmed the Cliff’s Notes.

“Yes, I’ve already signed him up. By the looks of it, if all the auditions go well we’ll have a full cast without call backs.” She turned her attention to the cowering masses behind her, all staring up in awe. Well, all except Robin Buckley. She wasn’t really a part of the collective though; she was just there for Tammy Thompson.

“Alright, then I can’t wait to see what he does…” you replied with a small smirk. Everyone else in the room was thinking the same thing: Steve Harrington was going to choke. The second Mrs. Blackburn left the room, everyone began their muttering and musing. The only person who seemed to sympathize with the kid was Tammy, who kept whining about poor, poor Steve and how he was going to make a fool of himself. Everyone had seen Steve’s failings with performance, most of the room either spent their free period in your drama class or had taken drama with him in freshman year. His misgivings were known throughout the little crew, even Robin seemed to understand that the kid just wasn’t talented.

And when auditions rolled around, you except the worst. As always, you were playing stage manager slash costumer for the production, your chosen role, and you sat at the back of the classroom with a clipboard and red pen in hand. You had the audition list copied on a few sheets of paper with the role presumed to fit them best. You’d seen most of the room audition a million times before. Both you and Mrs. Blackburn had a clear idea of what was going to happen. And, for the most part, it all fell into place. Tammy, despite her pleas to be Viola, was much more suited to the prissy and rich Olivia; Dale actually wanted to be the fool, which made your life easier, now you wouldn’t have to crush him dreams; Heather Holloway would happily play Viola, which you were more than happy to give her; and sweet little Nicole Chandler would play the nursemaid Maria.

Then, there was Steve Harrington and Gordon Fisher. Gordon had come in and bashed all of your notions of him being fabulously brash and boisterous Sebastian by auditioning instead for the powerful and yet underwhelming awkward Duke Orsino. And he was great! He was better than great!

And then there was Steve. He was terrible. Just plain awful. He didn’t look up once from the crumpled photocopied pages he held in his fist and he didn’t seem to know what he was saying. No, scratch that he had no idea what he was saying. He wasn’t so much playing a character but instead just trying to pronounce the words on the page and string them together in complete sentences. It was painful. But, to Mrs. Blackburn, it was perfect. She clapped when he finished, smiling far too wide as she egged him on. She kicked you under the table to follow suit and you added in a few slow claps. With a hefty dose of praise hefted on him like whipped cream, she sent Steve off and turned her attention to you.

“He’s perfect,” she said. You almost expected her to let out a dreamy sigh, like a love struck teenager instead of a married middle aged woman. She just looked so happy about the whole thing. You took a bit of secret joy in popping her bubble.

“Gordon was much better for the part.” You slipped your pen behind your ear and crossed your arms over your chest. Mrs. Blackburn’s thin mouth dropped open into a tiny ‘o’, only really defined by her cherry red lipstick.

“What?” she cried before composing herself “No, no Gordon was fine, he’ll make a fabulous Sebastian, but Steve is what I want for the Duke.”

“Are you sure I mean-” You couldn’t help but try to argue the point. You knew in your heart that the little shows you helped put on weren’t award worthy by any means but you still took great care in making them as good as possible, if only as a self-serving move to make them watchable from the booth.

Mrs. Blackburn shook her head, her tiny mouth pulling into a stern frown. “The decision is made. You cannot change my mind, Y/N.” she said flippantly, turning away from her to collect her papers. “We’ll have the list up by Monday, yes?”

You swallowed and nodded once. Mrs. Blackburn swept out of the room, her silver bracelets clattering together as she left. Once the door shut, you let out a heavy sigh and put away your clipboard. You’d type up the temporary list and deal with your temperamental director. First, you had to find Steve.

You found him hunched over at his locker. If you didn’t know him better, you’d say that he was ashamed. But he was too much of a cocky shit to ever feel ashamed of his own showboating. And what you just saw was showboating. There was no other way to explain it. He didn’t care about the show, or the play, he only cared about himself and showing off.

You tapped him hard on the shoulder. Steve turned his head. He wasn’t certain of your name but he recognized you from only a few minutes prior. He wanted to disappear. He’d just made a complete fool of himself and now had to atone to his butchering of words he didn’t quite get.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you’re just signing onto this thing to fuck around and make fun of people, I suggest you back the fuck down. Fisher and Michaels might stand down to your asshole buddies but I won’t.” you sneered, planting your hands on your hips and straightening your back to reach your fullest height. You had never been in a fight before, at least not one that wasn’t staged and within a classroom setting, but you’d stand up for those kids. Anyone who volunteered themselves for theatrical productions were doing something vulnerable, and vulnerability wasn’t something that could be taught or captured in a bottle, it was something given that should be protected. And you vowed to protect them from someone with ill will, if only to make your show better.

“Look,” Steve swallowed hard, looking away from you. Your gaze was searing into him and he was already embarrassed as is. He didn’t think he could blush any harder. “I’m not bullshitting. Mrs. Blackburn offered and I said yes, that’s all. No buddy’s gonna find out about this.”

You watched him squirm like a worm on a hook. He looked genuine. His eyes spoke more volumes than his words. You nodded, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. “Alright…” you turned on your heel and walked off without a goodbye to the thoroughly embarrassed boy.

Once the work started, it was a wash of a production. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Tammy was over the moon that Steve Harrington was joining them to play pretend and thrilled to explain to him that his character was in love with hers. He seemed horrified by the idea but dutifully played along. Gordon was beyond pissed, having to watch Steve stumble through lines and direction given by Mrs. Blackburn while he waited for his shot to do any acting at all. Robin was pissed too. Mrs. Blackburn had roped her into the production to do a few flute solos in pivotal scenes, which meant her having to watch the scenes she’d be playing in and you’d have to make her a little costume to wear. You’d been given your budget and some ancient patterns from Mrs. Blackburn’s collection, a 1970s renaissance faire dress pattern that didn’t fit in at all with the period. You bit back complaints about how little money you had to make anything nice.

You silently thanked god for Heather Holloway and her rich parents. They would pay to have her costumes done separately from your handiwork and all you’d have to do was make some decent things for the rest of the cast. You’d be sewing until your fingers bled. You were just thankful that you had made patterns for men’s pants in the same style of the dresses. You wouldn’t have to draft different sizes off a thin parchment pattern for them. Nicole, Tammy, and Heather were all around the same size so you’d only need to two different sizes of pattern. The project would be fairly simple.

Which meant that Mrs. Blackburn had to throw a wrench in everything.

She asked you to speak with her after your afternoon class one month into rehearsals. You stood awkwardly in front of her desk, your trapper keeper clutched tight to your chest, a few fingers bandaged from pricks and pokes from rouge pins and needles. You’d spent the night before alternating between putting blocking notes into your script and hemming the skirt of Tammy Thompson’s pale yellow dress. You’d bought a very pretty pale yellow brocade fabric with thin gold laurel patterns over the material and it was heavier than expected but it looked rightfully rich enough for a duchess to wear.

“Now, I might have overestimated Mr. Harrington’s acting abilities,” she said quietly, looking between you and the door. Steve was the first out of the room when the bell rang, he wasn’t lurking by the door waiting to hear you shit talk him. “He’s not performing well.”

“Well yes, I tried to tell you that when we auditioned him.” You replied, trying to hold back an eye roll.

“There’s no need to be bitter, he’s salvageable.” Mrs. Blackburn turned her attention to erasing the board. She had a freshman year drama class after this and the smelly youths would burst through the door at any moment. “What we’ll do is simply give him some extra help, less time working with the others and have him focus on really working on his lines. He’s not off book anyway.”

You nodded “So, what do you need me to do here?” Mrs. Blackburn reached into her desk and pulled out her pads of excused late slips, pulling out a pen and scribbling out your student information.

“Well, I can’t very well stop blocking the performance and we need to start heading over to the theatre soon. So you’ll handle helping Mr. Harrington from here on out.” She said nonchalantly. Her hoard her stinky children burst into the room, taking over the class with sound and fury, signifying nothing but an assault on your eardrums.

“So, and just for clarification here, you want me to make all the costume, stage manage the production, and teach Steve his lines?” you asked, taking the green slip she dangled out in front of you.

“Well yes of course that’s what you signed on to do and we always come through on what we choose to do.” Mrs. Blackburn turned her attention to her classroom, clapping twice to grab their attention. You knew that this was your cue to leave and you slinked away with your tail betwixt your legs, put back in your place by the older woman. You could’ve screamed. Teaching lines was not what you signed up for. Working with Steve was not what you signed up for. You signed on for making costumes and stage managing. Steve was not a part of the equation. He wasn’t even associated with the equation. He was a whole separate equation that you weren’t supposed to be tasked with solving.

And yet when Mrs. Blackburn announced that the rest of the cast would be heading to the theatre and you’d be staying behind with Steve to run lines, you didn’t complain. Steve did, he wanted to see the theatre, but you stayed silent, waving them goodbye as they left the cramped classroom. You and Steve stared at each other for a moment, silent and awkward, before you reached down and picked up the paper grocery bag you’d brought along with you and pulled out the pretty rouge pink linen you’d bought to make Nicole’s dress. You lay it flat on the desks and unfolded your newspaper patterns.

“Alright, sit.” You pointed to the desk in front of you and opened your patterning kit, pulling out your white tailor’s chalk and sewing scissors. Steve obeyed, tucking himself into the desk. You looked up with a forced smile “Alright, this is how we’re doing to do this. You are going to perform the lines without your script. When you need a line, say line and I’ll give it to you. Repeat it and then start again from the top. We’ll do that until you can say the whole thing without stuttering or calling line. Got it?”

Steve swallowed hard “Got it.”

“Alright, we’ll start from the first scene.” You pulled out your copy of the abridged play. Steve looked at you for a moment, confused and you summoned him to begin.

He took a heaving breath and you began pinning your pattern pieces to the material. “If music be the food of love, play on, give me…” Steve began, already stuttering. He went silent before shamefully asking “Line?”

You looked up with a raised eyebrow. You were hoping for at least a few lines to be known before he needed help. Mrs. Blackburn underestimated how little he knew. “Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting the appetite may sicken, and so die…that strain again!” you read out, monotone before turning your attention to Steve “Start again.”

He spouted out the dialogue, just a nervous as before and stuttering all the while. You managed to get through pinning the skirt piece down before he called line again. He only got through a line of dialogue past your last prompting. Steve looked utterly defeated and small in his seat. “I can’t think like this…” he muttered.

“The stand up. Or pace. Whatever you need to do. Just get through the speech here,” you said with a sigh “Do you need the line?” Steve nodded sadly and you read out the next line and Steve started again.

“If music be the food of love; play on, give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die…that strain again! It had a dying fall: o’ it came o’er my ear like the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets; stealing odour…enough, no more!” he took a heaving breath. He was halfway across the room now and staring at the wall. You had turned your attention to him and were watching almost in awe. He knew the lines. He knew the whole speech. When he finished, he looked to you as if for the next line. You didn’t give it, instead you stepped out from the desk.

“You know the lines…” you breathed. It wasn’t a good performance, but he was off book. He was putting in work. You were impressed. Surprised, but impressed.

“When I’m walking around the room I do…” Steve chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.

“But you have no idea what you’re saying…” you breathed, watching as Steve deflated, giving a small nod.

“Why can’t he just write what he means, I get it’s supposed to be like poetry or whatever, but it makes no sense.” He pushed himself up onto the desk, crossing his legs under him.

“It helps to think about the character as a whole. What do you know about the duke?” you asked, taking a step back to approach the scene with script in hand.

“I mean…he’s a duke, which is an important person with a lot of people who work under him, and he’s in love with Olivia, who’s a rich duchess,” he counted them off with his fingers, chewing on his lower lip as he thought.

“Exactly!” you stopped him mid-sentence, pointing excitedly “He’s in love with Olivia and Olivia doesn’t love him back, right?”

“Right?” he had a right to be confused; Mrs. Blackburn had given Tammy the note to stop playing Olivia so moony eyed over Orsino for weeks now. She hadn’t stopped, despite swearing up and down that she wasn’t trying.

“She doesn’t, and so when he’s talking about love and music, do you think he’s happy to hear the music or not?” you asked.

“I mean…I guess yes and no?” you raised an eyebrow at him. That wasn’t the exact answer you expected. He continued “Cause he’s love sick, and being love sick is fun and terrible at the same time. He talks about being sick in the speech.”

You nodded “Yes! And when he says that he wants to surfeit, that means to like overdose. He wants to die from all the love. He’s overwhelmed by it all.” Steve’s smile grew. For the first time, he felt like he was getting it now. When you explained it, the scene made sense.

You reached for your scissors and picked up the material, taking a deep breath before making the first cut in the fabric. “Alright, now I want you to take all that stuff I told you and try to put it on the words.” You said, gesturing with your finger for him to start again.

And he did. He did the scene over and over again, pacing the room while trying to feel different things. It was easy to be overwhelmed-he was overwhelmed. Everything he was doing overwhelmed him. It didn’t help that you were watching him. He didn’t like being watched. And you kept smiling at some parts and frowning at others. He wanted you to smile all the way through it. That meant that it was good, that he was doing good. And he liked your smile. This was the first time he’d seen it directed at him.

“Alright,” you stopped him mid sentence, holding out a flat palm out “Enough pacing. The blocking has you seat in like this big chair.” You stepped out from behind the desks and pulled out a chair, placing it in the centre of the room. “Sit down, we’re going to put it altogether.”

Steve gingerly sat in the chair, positioning himself the way Mrs. Blackburn had instructed with his legs splayed wide and his right elbow propped on his knee, holding his head up. With a heavy breath he started again “If music be the food of love, play on…fuck!” you looked up from your work curiously “I forgot the line already! I keep thinking about the words and the meaning and the emotions and the meter-I can’t do it all.”

You nodded, pulling the pins out of the pattern and marking the pieces numerically. “Tap your foot to the beat of the words, one less thing to think about.” You said, capping the pin box. “Do it one more time and then we’re done. They’re finishing up at the theatre now, we have to vacate ASAP.”

Steve tried your trick. It worked. He was shocked. You knew so much about this stuff. He didn’t know anything about any of this. He felt like a doofus. But you helped him through. He thought it was a onetime thing, but every rehearsal you’d take him aside and work on the words. Mrs. Blackburn had cut the thing down to about two acts, still longer than most parents wanted to sit through, but better than five acts and two intermissions. He didn’t know how he was going to do this at all. Still, he felt safe with you watching. He could perform to you instead of the audience.

For your part, you liked working with Steve. You didn’t think that you would, but he was pretty self sufficient with the piece after you gave him your Cliff’s Notes version of the text to help him understand the scenes he had to do and the context of the play as a whole. And he was funny. You didn’t know that he was funny. And he hated Tammy. Anyone who hated Tammy was a friend of yours. She was brutally annoying in rehearsals and at this point was refusing to kiss Gordon. And poor Gordon was more than over having Steve there, he swore that the guy was doing something to distract Tammy. Of course he was, he was existing in her world for the first time, but you were quick to defend him, because he was trying. It wasn’t his fault that Tammy couldn’t keep it in her pants or that Heather was more focused on her costumes than her performance. Still, nobody understood why he was there.

Sat with Steve at the back of the Hawkins Community Playhouse, you decided to ask him. “Hey,” you asked quietly. Gordon and Tammy were doing their little love scene on the stage below and Mrs. Blackburn would kill you if she could hear you talking. “Can I ask you something?” Steve nodded, looking up from his script.

“Why are you doing this show?” Steve frowned and you backtracked quickly “I mean, this isn’t your bag I just was curious…”

“Honestly?” Steve asked. You gave a half nod, trying not to appear too curious. “Mrs. Blackburn promised me that if I did this, she’d pass me for the year and that I can skip out on the final.” Your eyes blew wide. You were pissed. Not because he was only doing the show for a decent grade, but because you still had to prepare a monologue performance to perform for your final on top of all this work.

“That bitch…” you murmured “I wanna skip out on the final!”

Steve laughed “Ask! She was only gonna pass me, I haggled for the final.”

“She’d never. She wants to work me to death, I swear.” You chuckled darkly. You flipped up the tan suede Bodice you built, the lace dangling loosely from the eyelets. It looked good. It would look better on Nicole, for now it would have to look good on the floor.

Steve was called up to the stage and you returned to Mrs. Blackburn’s side, watching the ending go down, as Viola’s true nature is revealed and Sebastian is reunited with his sister. It was a messy scene, with the Malvolio plotline cut there wasn’t a scheme to reveal or a villain to unmask, so the scene became instead a bit of a wedding. You still wished you’d done A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, you would’ve actually auditioned for that show. Still, Twelfth Night was turning into a half decent show. You hadn’t expected Steve to bring anything, but he played the duke like a sort of well meaning dunce, a loveable yet hopeless fool. He just seemed to have fun, especially when Nicole and Dale were acting silly behind him. He just seemed to have fun with them, unlike Tammy and Heather who had no interest in playing and seemed to be fighting for who could look the most bored. It had been a long day, it was nearly eight o’clock at night and Mrs. Blackburn had sent her husband to go pick up pizza for the cast an hour ago. Everyone was exhausted, but you were supposed to do a full fitting for the cast after they were done.

Thankfully, Mrs. Blackburn ended the torture. “Alright,” she clapped once, calling an end to the scene “Let’s call it quits there. Y/N has brought all the costumes for the show with her today, let’s have a try on and then we’ll take our pizza to go. Sound good?” the whole room let out an exhausted half cheer and you picked up the massive duffel bag you’d brought from home.

“I hope everyone remembered their shoes,” you said, pulling out the first hanger, holding the intense yellow brocade with the golden Bodice for Tammy to take. “Heather, your stuff is here, right?” Heather scoffed, taking the three off the stage and picking up her own bag. You handed Nicole her dress and passed out the brown faux burlap pants and white puffy shirts. You’d made separate vests for each character-Steve’s a rich navy blue, Dale’s a jaunty royal purple with a matching jester cap from the prop closet, and Gordon a dull olive green. Their colours would have to do to differentiate them to the audience. Everyone left to do their try on and when they returned you were transported to the ren faire.

You stepped off the stage, joining Mrs. Blackburn in the fifth row. You smiled; the brocade looked lovely under the lights, as did the silver buttons you’d put on Steve’s vest. It was a bit wide. “Alright, Tammy you’re good to change, Steve stay put.” You jumped back onto the stage, stepping behind him. Up close, it was hard to look at him. He was too attractive. You were stunned that any man could look sexy in a stupid puffy shirt, but there Steve was, ruining your work relationship with him.

“Stay still, I’m putting pins in your vest, I don’t want to poke you.” You whispered, pulling a couple pins from your cushion. You felt Steve suck in a deep breath as your fingers grazed his lower back, tingles running up his spine. You pulled the material in a bit, pinning it flat. You noted that you’d have to add a couple darts to each side to make it fit better. It only took a few moments, but when you came back around to look over Steve he looked as if he might faint. “Steve,” he looked to you with blown out eyes “Breathe.” He nodded twice and you stepped off the stage. It was only a week until performances. He must have been scared shitless.

Steve was scared shitless. Of you. He didn’t know how to act when you were watching him. Well, he knew how to act, you’d trained him to play Orsino, but he didn’t know how Steve fit into your relationship. All he knew was that when he had to kiss Heather at the end of the show, he only had you on his mind. He couldn’t even look at you when it was over, he felt like he’d cheated on you. Which was insane, but the feeling stuck in his gut.

When the day of performances came around, Steve was shaken. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t told any of his friends about what he was doing and yet word had gone around the school. All of his friends were coming opening night, he swore with pitchforks and rotten fruit to throw. When he got the theatre at four o’clock that afternoon, however, the whole cast was in a tizzy.

Heather was an hour late. And, according to Nicole, she wasn’t coming. “Her father’s hosting a benefit at the Carmel Country Club tonight, there’s no way that she’s showing.” She moaned. Mrs. Blackburn was already in the phone book, looking up the number of the club. She left to make a call, promising that Heather would never do such a thing.

Tammy was crying off her makeup in the corner, with Robin consoling her while trying to not get blackened tears on her white shirt. “She’s going to ruin my show! She’s ruining it!” she sobbed.

You were stood in the corner, unsure where to place yourself. Luckily, Mrs. Blackburn returned quickly. “I’ve just spoken to Heather,” she announced. The room fell into a hush.

“And?” you asked, looking up from the hot rollers you were putting in Nicole’s hair.

“And she’s not coming. She told me about this and I said it was okay. I guess I forgot.” Mrs. Blackburn replied. You knew that was bullshit, but you held your tongue.

“What’re we going to do???” Tammy cried out. That sent the room into an uproar, everyone talking over one another. Steve stayed silent. In truth, he was a bit glad to be rid of Heather. Maybe they wouldn’t have to perform.

“Now, now as we know in the theatre the show must go on!” Mrs. Blackburn cried. “Y/N, as stage manager, has been learning the blocking and pacing for the show. She will go on as Viola and I will make a speech before we go on! It’s all we can do!”

Everyone turned to look at you. You turned your attention to Mrs. Blackburn, walking over to her and whispering in her ear. “If I do this, I don’t have to do the final. You grade on this.” She looked you over and then turned once. You turned to the cast and sighed softly, nodding “The show will go on.” You shrugged, heaving up your trapper keeper.

“She doesn’t look right. She doesn’t have a costume.” Tammy whined.

“I will go to the school and get what we have left. I’m sure we have a pair of trousers and a puffed shirt for her to wear.” Mrs. Blackburn grabbed her purse off the makeup counter “Girls, work your magic on her.”

You put the last roller in Nicole’s hair and she grabbed your arm, pulling her into the chair next to her. “Grab that green skirt from last year!” Nicole called after her teacher “You’re gonna wear this dress for the opening. I’ll wear the skirt and whatever else she brings back, now let’s make you Viola.”

You were poked and prodded and burned until you were as close to looking like Heather as you were going to get. Then, you were stuffed into Nicole’s dress. Thankfully, Mrs. Blackburn had found two leftover puffy white shirts and a bodice, and the decision was made that you’d wear the rouge dress and she’d wear the green skirt from last year. It was a nice enough gesture, as was Tammy being forced to give up her extra pair of character shoes, which she did begrudgingly at the behest of Robin.

And then, you were stood offstage. And you were terrified. You’d never done this before. In your four years of stage managing, no one had ever called out of a performance, you’d never had to take over a role last minute. Your mind kept focusing on the discomfort of the costume. Nicole had tied your bodice too tight. Tammy’s shoes were too big. The skirt was too long. You were too wrong for this. You wanted to run. And then, the lights came up on Steve. Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke the opening lines so well and Robin began her first flute solo. Steve was doing wonderfully. With his left foot tapping lightly on the wooden stage floor, he knew what he was saying, even with distraction surrounding him. Internally, he felt as close to someone else as he’d ever felt in his life. Steve didn’t like that you weren’t in the audience to watch him, but he couldn’t see anyone with the lights on anyway. The audience clapped as he finished his scene and left with Dale, the lights going out fully as Robin cleared her chair and music stand and Gordon carried off the throne. Steve reached out and squeeze your shoulder with a kind smile.

“You have this,” he said softly. You heaved out a breath and stepped on the stage. You went right to the centre and right up to the edge, sitting down so your legs dangled off. You had no idea how Heather did this. You were too close to the audience. As the lights came up, you looked down at the lines in front of you. Dale stepped onto the stage in a sailor’s cap. He really had to play everyone in this stupid show. He nodded to you with a smile.

“What…” you voice came out in a whisper. No one could hear you. You took a breath, closing your eyes before trying again. “What country, friends, is this?” you asked loudly.

Dale’s smile grew. The scene was actually happening. “This is Illyria, lady.” He said, doing his best to sound like an old man.

The first scene was bumpy. Dale wanted to show off a bit and make the audience laugh, even though the scene was an info dump, which meant that you could just read the lines back to him and follow the blocking. You were more comfortable moving than you were speaking. But it got easier. Once you were dressed as Ceserio and working with Steve, things went smoother. You knew those scenes very well, the lines were almost memorized on your part from playing scene partner to him. Steve was fun to work with, he constantly made you smile.

It wasn’t hard for you to pretend to be in love with Steve. You felt like you were. Well, maybe not love. But like. Like a whole lot. And you were sure that he liked you to. Or maybe he was just that good of an actor.

The show went so fast. It was refreshing. Sat in the booth, it was a slog to get through, but onstage it went quick. You were nervous over the ending. You knew Heather’s last scene was a kiss with Steve. It wasn’t the passionate, intense kiss that Tammy and Gordon would do a scene before, but it was still a kiss. No matter how he felt about you, this was going to change your friendship forever.

You joined the cast last on stage, the who’s who of the plot being broken down, Steve was supposed to be mad when you came onstage, but he smiled like he’d seen what heaven looked like. You smiled up at Steve as the changed scene began, cutting the duel that leads the group into their explanations of the mix ups. Mrs. Blackwell hadn’t had the heart to cut a bit of Viola’s dialogue, so it lead the group into the explanations instead.

“After him I love, more than I love these eyes, more than my life, more by all the mores than e’er I shall love my wife.” You had no direction for what to do with the line. Heather had said it dramatically towards the audience. You turned your attention to Steve, caressing his face with your thumb. It was greedy, you were using the scene to get a bit of affection from the boy. You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Steve seemed bewildered but happy, he fit the moment perfectly.

The scene continued as planned, with all the reveals shown to the characters and couples happily coupled off. Sebastian and Olivia were revealed to be married and that all was okay between Viola and Olivia once her gender was revealed.

Steve turned to you, smiling ear to ear “Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst love woman like me.” He took your hands in his squeezing them tight.

“And all those sayings will I over-swear, and all those swearing keep me as true in soul as doth orbed continent the fire that severs day from night.” You replied, matching his giddy grin. The kiss was coming soon, he had one more line and then he’d plant one on you.

“Give me thy hand,” you both looked down at your still clasped together hands. The audience chuckled. Steve pressed on “And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.” You and Nicole rushed offstage and quickly changed you into the dress again. You were all butterflies and pins and needles, shaking in your loose heels. Nicole brushed out your skirt and smiled, escorting you back onstage.

The audience clapped politely on your return, you tried your best to smile although was hard to breath with Steve looking at you like that. He scooped you up in his arms and kissed you quickly before you had a moment to react. You swore that he had a line before this happened but you didn’t care. Your script was out of your hands anyway, he’d knocked it out of your hands when he lifted you off the ground. You swore you were flying.

And then you were on the ground. Steve cleared his throat. He was blushing madly. He remembered his line. He turned to Tammy, who was holding back a laugh before turning back to you.

“Cesario, come! For so you shall be, while you are a man; but, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino’s mistress and his fancy’s queen.” He announced, grabbing your hand and sweeping you off the stage, Gordon and Tammy in close pursuit. Dale and Nicole still had a scene, which Mrs. Blackburn had changed for them to share. You weren’t paying attention to them though.

“Nice work,” Steve breathed, squeezing your hand in his.

“You surprised the hell outta me,” you chuckled “Made me lose my script.”

“You look really pretty like this,” Steve said. You looked at him carefully. He was sweaty and shy, his eye barely met yours.

You smiled “Thank you, you look good in cheap period costumes.” You knocked your hip into his, making him stumble just a bit. He grabbed your hip, pulling them parallel to his.

“Yeah?” he asked, bring his left hand to grab your chin.

You smiled “Oh yeah, definitely,” you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again as Tammy and Gordon ran to grab you for curtain call. You didn’t care. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to fake the way he looked at you. And you swore the world went silent in that moment, nothing standing between you and the swirling stars and hearts in his eyes.

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piracytheorist · 3 years

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A Kiss for Good Luck (6/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This is one of my favourite chapters that I’ve written for this fic. Hence why it’s the longest so far, and the second longest overall.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 5.4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 6: Killian Jones, October 31st 2000 – October 19th 2011

The girl pulls back when someone whistles at them.

“Nice catch, Captain,” Cruella tells him.

Killian just shakes his head. She's not drunk enough yet. He turns to the girl. “Ignore her. She's just pissed that there's too many adults around.” He throws a glare at Cruella, hoping she'll get the message. Luckily, she does and walks away without any further comments.

Looking back at the zombie princess in his arms, he's only now noticing how detailed her costume is; he was too stuck looking at her eyes before.

The girl opens her mouth to say something, but her gaze suddenly focuses on something behind him and her face falls. She tells him she'll be right back, but she never comes back.

Apparently, she and her mother were renting the villa across the street, and it has caught on fire.

Cruella grabs him and takes him to the car before any fire trucks or police officers arrive and find them and their very stolen car. They leave the car where they first found it and sneak back inside Silver's house without getting detected at all.

However, it's not their sneakiness that Killian considers the first luck he's had in years. It's the sudden visit from a social worker the next morning, the very first he's seen in his whole time in Silver's house – and he would swear that even in the short periods of time he wasn't there, no social worker ever made an unexpected visit. It shows.

They're all taken away, and for the first time Killian truly feels relieved to leave that house. It's only one year until he ages out of the system, and wherever he spends that year will be better than that place.

His next foster home is in Brighton; it's the first time he's moved that far away from London, but he's too disillusioned to hope it will be any different.

Yet it feels so, from the first moment; the guy is outside, waiting for them despite the chilly weather. It's the first time Killian has felt that a foster parent has been waiting for him. There's another teenager with him, and Killian can see a girl peeking at them through a window.

When the social worker takes Killian to them, the man offers his hand.

"Welcome, lad,” he says. “My name is Nemo."

Killian swallows hard, looking at the man's hand. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea was his mama's favourite book. She'd tried reading it to him some times, but all he can remember now is the protagonist's name, Nemo, and his submarine the Nautilus.

"Of all fucking names," he whispers and walks past him into the house. He can hear the social worker blabber some excuse in his favour to Nemo, but he couldn't care less.

He goes upstairs, throws an angry glare at the girl from before who's now peeking from a door, and he gets inside the first open door he finds. Sure enough, it's a bedroom. The blue on the walls, curtains and bed sheets are a nice touch. He throws the plastic bag with his few clothes and possessions on the floor and he flops on the bed.

Oh. It's soft, and the sheets smell nice and fresh. At least his sleep will be a bit easier here.

He feels a knot in his throat when he considers that that guy, Nemo, apparently made sure to provide a warm welcome for him.

He grunts when he hears a knock on the door.

"May I come in?" Nemo says.

"Whatever," Killian says and sits up on the bed, bringing his knees closer. As Nemo comes inside, Killian kicks his shoes off. Maybe he can help keep the sheets smelling nice as long as he can.

"I see you've made yourself at home already."

Killian sighs, ready to mock him for his patronizing words, but Nemo says,

"I hope you like blue. I've got sheets and curtains in a few more colours, if you want to pick something else."

Killian looks up at him. When was the last time that someone cared what colours he liked?

"May I ask what's wrong with my name?" Nemo says, sounding a bit amused.

"Nothing."

After a short pause, Nemo asks, "You've read Jules Verne's book?"

Damn it.

Killian stays silent, dropping his eyes.

"Okay," Nemo says and takes the chair from the desk, swinging it to face the bed and sitting down. "Killian, right?"

He just scoffs.

"Come on, lad. I saw your papers. It doesn't mean I know a thing about you."

"Really? Didn't you see the time I was taken in for alcohol possession?"

"I saw it. What should that say about you?"

Nemo is talking so casually that Killian can't help looking up again. Nemo's expression is soft.

"What did you want me to figure from that information?" Nemo says.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting to know you. I'm trying, at least."

Killian's chest feels heavy. No other foster parent ever tried to do that with him. They just let him in, put out a plate of food for him, and shouted at him whenever he was restless. They never tried to start a conversation with him.

And Nemo's effort is overwhelming him.

"Okay," Nemo says calmly, standing up. "I'll set up the table, but you can eat whenever you feel like it. There's warm water for a shower, and, if you do want to talk at some point, I'll be here." He then leaves, closing the door behind him.

Killian brings his knees closer to his chest and starts sobbing softly. Nemo is... he's nice. And he's trying. And Killian is a fucking mess and he'll ruin it, and Nemo will send him back...

He pulls himself together, wipes his tears and opens the door quietly. He can hear three voices from downstairs; Nemo's, and he guesses, the other two belong to the boy in the porch and the girl who was watching him. He walks down the stairs, careful to not make any noise, and sits on the floor right next to the opening to the kitchen.

He doesn't remember the last time he sat with someone for dinner. At least, sitting down and chat and feeling comfortable. Both children sound very comfortable with Nemo. The girl, in fact, while she seemed shy at first glance, is the most talkative of the three.

Killian's heart drops when he realizes he probably scared her. How would she react if he joined them at the table? Can he join them?

He stands up and goes back to his room. He's gonna ruin it anyway, what's the point of building anything there?

He only comes out the next morning, assuming he'll be told to go to school.

Nemo is in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. "Oh,” he tells Killian as soon as he sees him. “Good morning. Are you hungry?"

He's starving. He just shrugs.

"The eggs will be ready soon. I didn't expect you to wake up that early. You can have anything that's on the table."

There's quite a lot on the table. Jam and bread, honey, cake, tea, a small cheese assortment, even bacon.

Killian just sits down and starts nibbling on some bread, watching Nemo. He's making scrambled eggs, and Killian's mouth waters at how good it smells. He looks down, trying to hide his teary eyes.

It's just food that smells nice. Why is he reacting like this?

"Did you sleep well?" Nemo asks.

"I guess," Killian mutters.

"If you need anything for school, notebooks, pens, let me know and I'll get you some. When you come back you can let me know if you're missing any books."

"Okay."

"Hey." He turns around, facing him. Killian doesn't dare look at his undeniably soft expression. "I mean it."

"I know."

Nemo doesn't say anything else. He finishes the eggs, then the other two kids join them and introduce themselves to him as Will and Tink. Tink seems a bit wary of Killian, but the two kids talk with Nemo as Killian sits with them, even though he's finished eating. He can't find it in him to isolate himself again. He will ruin this, but perhaps he can let himself feel some warmth before he loses all of it.

The first day of school goes surprisingly well. From the first recess even, a boy in his class approaches him.

"Hey, you live with Will, right? Will Scarlet, from eleventh grade? I'm Robin, he told me there would be a new kid at his house."

Killian feels like he's in preschool, as if students will be approaching him and asking him to be friends. But Robin and Will are fun, his professors are nice and he even finds himself paying attention to some of the classes.

He's not used to any of it. When school is over and he follows Will and Tink home, he fears he'll wake up in Silver's house and realize it was all a dream. Just next to the fence gate of Nemo's place, he finds a ten pound note on the ground and he wants to scream.

Someone is clearly toying with him.

He walks in briskly, ignoring Will telling him that there's lunch ready and he locks himself in his room.

He doesn't know what to do, what to feel; it's all too good to be true. Can he really trust it will stay that way? He's lost everyone he loved. If he tries to see Nemo as anything more, if he sees Will as a friend...

It's gone dark by the time Nemo knocks on his door.

"Killian? Will told me that you haven't eaten. Are you feeling alright?"

Good, now he's worried about him.

"You don't have to tell me anything. I just want to know if you're okay."

Killian feels his eyes fill with tears again.

"I may not look like it, but I can break this door. I don't want to invade your space, but if something happened to you-"

Killian runs to the door and opens it wide. Nemo's face falls; there's no doubt he sees Killian's reddened eyes.

"Oh, my boy," he says.

Killian bursts out in sobs and wraps his arms around Nemo. He doesn't care if it's a dream, or if he'll fuck it up eventually. He will take what he can, what he needs, for now.

Nemo is calm, he holds Killian and doesn't ask for an explanation.

"If you ever want to talk to me, I'm here. But I'm not pressuring you. Only if you want," is all he says.

"You can't," Killian says between sobs. "I'm cursed."

"There's no such thing."

"No, I am. My family... they all died. My father- left me. If you care for me you'll- you'll die too."

"I don't believe that. You shouldn't believe that either. You were just unlucky."

It's all too easy, to blame it on bad luck. To think it's just gone away and he can sit back and relax and things will be good for him now.

And he's not used to easy.

"Do you want me to bring you some food? You'll feel better."

He shakes his head, keeping Nemo close. When was the last time he was held like this? He's forgotten how good it feels. And he's not ready to let go, to hope that things will stay like this.

It takes three months. Nemo is patient, and Killian's urge to sneak out fades away. Will and Robin are good company, and he starts focusing on homework again. Tink starts trusting him, and Nemo's place slowly feels like a home. For the first time, there's a wall where he can hang his drawings on, a frame to put his family photo in and a surface to place it on. While he was staying at Silver's place, the only reason he wasn't dropping out of school was his fear of the reaction Silver would certainly have. Now he genuinely believes he can graduate – even if he'll have to repeat his last year.

Nemo believes in him too. Killian is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but as time passes he starts thinking that maybe the proverbial neighbor is one-legged.

It's what helps Killian agree to Nemo's suggestion that he start talking to a therapist. If he's looking for a bright future, he wants to be emotionally stable enough to really live it.

One month before his finals, Killian feels more stressed than he'd anticipated. Five months ago he wouldn't have cared if he'd failed completely. Now he wants to succeed, if anything, to make Nemo proud. He didn't expect that. But he's known better than to hope that high, and on the first day he tries to study, all he thinks is how he's going to flunk and ruin the second chance he was granted.

That same evening, Nemo knocks on his door, which he's been leaving open more and more often.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” he says.

Nemo sounds happy. Probably completely oblivious to how all his efforts with Killian were in vain. Not that it will matter much, will it? Killian is just a visitor- no, more like a parasite. At least, in a few months he'll be able to work and have his own income, so he can have a job and rent his own place as he retakes his last year.

But he's constructed an exterior neutral enough to not allow Nemo any inkling of his worries. The man's tried hard enough, there's no reason for him to carry Killian's burden too.

But Nemo also looks a bit nervous. “Look,” he says. “You may say it's a bit too fast; Will and Tink have been living here longer, not that I think of them any higher or lower than I think of you. And, maybe not the best timing, what with your finals coming up and all.”

Killian's heart sinks to his stomach; Nemo has already predicted the outcome and he's sending him away. He feels his exterior start to crumble, so he lowers his eyes. Nemo will give him the ceremonious speech, then Killian will start packing his stuff.

At least, Nemo was kind enough to buy him a decent rucksack to replace the garbage bag Killian had for keeping his stuff in, and a frame for his family photo, and Silver wouldn't be eligible for fostering yet. Few places could be worse than that one, and Killian only has a few months before aging out. He'd have to face-

“Killian, are you alright?”

He realizes tears are running down his cheeks. Oh, no.

“It's nothing.” He quickly wipes the tears away.

“Son, I'm adopting you.”

Killian freezes. He looks up to see Nemo smile.

“I don't know what you thought this would be, but I'm really doing it. I'll be adopting Will and Tink soon, but I don't want to risk it being too late for you. I already see you as family, and I want to make it official. Papers don't mean much to me, but they are a way to provide for you later on.”

Tears are flowing freely now.

“But I have to ask you, do you want me to adopt you? You can say no-”

“Yes,” Killian says in such a low voice he's not sure if Nemo heard it. He doesn't dare say it again, because he feels a shout bubbling up in his throat, and it's very likely that if he shouts that loud, he'll be shaken awake, back in Silver's cursed place.

But how lucky is he, that while still staying with Silver, he's had such a wonderful dream? What happy thoughts that he never had in that place could have created such a grand illusion of happiness?

“It's okay, my boy.” Nemo's voice is steady. He's smiling, but there's a note of sadness on his face. “I've already done most of the procedure; I just wanted to know if you wanted me before I completed it. But it's okay.”

“What is?” Killian manages to keep his voice a whisper.

“I know it's a lot to process. I also know you're happy, but it's okay if you can't show it now.”

Is that what this is? The therapist did mention something about Killian's emotional responses, and how especially his stay with Silver has... blocked them? He can't remember, it's too much right now.

“It's alright. Do you want to be alone?”

Killian's response is just a small nod.

Nemo nods back. “Don't feel pressured. I don't expect you to say anything at all. I just want you to feel at home. For real.”

As if Nemo can predict Killian's exact reaction, he walks out and closes the door just as Killian bursts into sobs. He grabs his pillow and buries his face in it, trying to muffle the sound.

Five months – and a half; that's all he had before aging out. And it's there, just a bit before that grim finishing line, that Nemo came and took him in as a son.

A son.

He has a father. He'll probably never call him that, though. Nemo deserves something more than the word Killian used for the man who left him and his brother. Nemo is more than that.

He is everything. And that's exactly what Nemo deserves. More than a... a son who can't express himself properly, even if Nemo is apparently willing to deal with that.

He looks at the book he's been trying to focus on for the past hour. There's no chance he'll manage to focus now, after such a bomb.

But, maybe, the best late reaction he can have is to put his life in order. Not just for Nemo's sake, but for his own most of all.

His finals are extremely easy; he misses a ton of information, but every single test asks the exact things he did manage to learn that past year.

Six months ago he wasn't expecting to graduate; what he expected even less was to have someone be proud of him for that.

And not just Nemo; Will and Tink too are happy for him.

To celebrate, Nemo rents a boat from a friend and they all spend two weeks in the summer sailing across the south coast.

Killian is entranced by captain John Shakespeare, Nemo's friend and the boat's owner. One day, he asks him to teach him how to steer the boat.

"I think I'm in love," he tells Nemo when Shakespeare leaves him on the helm to go adjust a sail. "Can you ask Shakespeare something?"

Nemo seems to freeze, his mouth falling open. "What do you mean?"

"The boat! I want my own boat! Or... work in one! I don't know! Anything!"

He smiles wide at him, and Nemo's confused expression turns into a mirror of Killian's. "Actually..." Nemo says, "he might have mentioned he's looking for some help."

Killian has the best summer in six years – since the summer he went in Boston, that is. Maybe it is, finally, the time to embrace it. He gets a sailing license before even starting to – officially – learn how to drive a car.

He loves his job, and Shakespeare is a great boss; after just one year of Killian working with him, he jokes that he wouldn't mind leaving Killian in his place when he retires.

Killian is happy; he has a family, a job he loves, and finally, hope. For better things to come.

Killian has been thinking of Nemo as a father, even though he never used the word to him. Just two years after being adopted by him, Killian gets a second father; Nemo marries Shakespeare, his boss, of all people. But it doesn't feel weird. They're all as happy as ever.

He takes himself out; Will moves to London to study, but Killian and Robin stay friends and when Will visits, they all go out together.

He has a few flings; they're all short-lived but ending smoothly, and he slowly gets used to attracting people's attention – of the good kind. He had more pressuring issues during his teenage years than worrying about his appearance, so he's now coming to the conclusion that he's grown into a quite handsome look.

It's a rare occasion, but still common enough for him to wonder whether there's a pattern, that his eyes stay stuck to his drink instead of looking around, as he remembers that girl dressed as a zombie princess. God, he was a goner with her. He's too old now for the butterflies and carefree crushes of adolescence, but still, through his dates and flings, he has never felt the same.

Would it have been any different, if he had gotten that girl's name?

He's twenty-four when things start to change. A woman with black curly hair and a presence that makes his knees feel weak comes on a Sunday and rents a boat for a day-long trip along the coast. His knees feel even weaker, but with a different purpose now, when he spots the wedding band on her finger.

He allows himself some fantasies; it's hard for his mind to not wander at the sight of her on the bow of the ship, her hair flowing behind her. She looks like a bird who has finally been let out of a cage, free to roam the world.

The sea has meant freedom to him for a long time now, and he can't help feeling it means the same to her.

Her name is Milah, and that night he dreams of her.

He actually has to restrain himself from looking at the few information she gave to Shakespeare before hiring the boat; he's better than this. She's married, she has her life, and he owes to respect her privacy.

He's successfully accepted that he'll never see her again, when the next Sunday she's renting his boat again. And the next. And the next.

He's now twenty-five and for the first time he decides to push his luck. He's known Milah for nearly a year, and on her part, she always initiated a discussion; the more she talked, the more he got to know about her, the more he fell in love with her. And she didn't miss one single Sunday cruise.

On their last cruise they got tipsy together and she confessed that if it were only for her deadbeat husband and not the son they have together, she'd ask Killian to take her away and never bring her back. With a quick glance, he noticed that she'd taken her wedding band off.

The very next time she buys a cruise, right before they prepare to head for the port, he kisses her. She doesn't even seem surprised; neither is he when she leads him to the cabin below deck, then starts undressing both herself and him.

Three months into their secret relationship, her husband, Gold, finds out. It's a few very difficult trials for their divorce, and Nemo and Shakespeare are disappointed in Killian.

"A married woman," Shakespeare says pointedly.

"I love her." Killian retorts. "You should know that the law means nothing."

"You want to compare?” Nemo says. It's the first time Killian has seen him upset. “Do you realize how much we had to hide? And why? I couldn't be married to the man I loved and keep you. I couldn't even tell you anything! And so we waited. It hurt, but we waited. Because otherwise, lives could be ruined."

"Nothing was ruined. Her husband was an ass to her already."

"But he'll get full custody of the child, and the child will hate you," Shakespeare says. "That's what both of us were thinking. The children. You."

He's too proud to let their words shake him; and what's done is done, anyway. Milah gets only one day a week of seeing her son, and her husband makes it clear that he doesn't want Killian anywhere near the boy.

Before the divorce, it was Sundays he had with her. Now it's Sundays he doesn't, but he's happy she gets some time with her son. And for the kid, too; he knows all too well what it feels like to have one parent leave.

He is happy, but it's costing Milah a lot.

"I wish you two could meet," she says one Sunday night as they hold each other in bed. "You're the two most important people in my life, and it really sucks to only have to be with one of you at a time."

"Maybe it will get better. Maybe Gold will change his mind." He pauses. "Or maybe he can go fuck himself and I'll be with you next Sunday anyway."

Her lips twitch. "It's not just him. Jack, he... he's..."

Killian's heart falls. "He doesn't want to see me."

She looks at him, but before she can say anything to comfort him, he says,

"It's alright. I'm not the best role model anyway."

"Don't say that. He's just too young. I wish I could make him understand that me and his father would have broken up anyway."

"Maybe it's better how it is now."

"What? Why?"

"He's got an outsider to blame. Not his own family." He squeezes her hand. "Few things are worse for the psyche than thinking a monster of a parent."

"You think he doesn't think that of me already? His cheating mother?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope he thinks of me as the one who seduced you away."

Milah had a relatively normal childhood, so it's not easy for her to get that sentiment. In truth, Killian wants few things more than getting to know her kid, the most important person in her life. To make the situation clear and rid him of the burden of having to spend his childhood blaming and hating someone. But it's all too complicated, and Jack is still young.

"There's no need to rush into it. There's time," he says. A smile creeps up his lips at the thought that they will stay together at least until Jack is old enough to understand.

The smile spreading on her lips tells him she thinks the same.

Milah never hides how happy she is to be with him, despite what getting with him cost her in the first place.

Nemo does a good job trying not to judge Milah, but Shakespeare isn't as willing.

"What are we comparing here? Being discriminated against for daring to love a person of the same gender with having poor communication skills and not breaking out of a bad marriage you were privileged enough to have without any bumps along the way?"

"John," Nemo says.

"I know, I know, I'm judging without knowing. You're very lucky Milah's ex was kind enough to let her spend Christmas with them. I wouldn't be shutting up if she were here either."

Lucky. Of course he is.

Shakespeare doesn't argue with Nemo suggesting he should spend New Year's Eve with his brother and his family, so Killian has the chance to bring Milah to meet Nemo.

Despite the work Killian has done on himself and his self-image, there are still times he thinks he doesn't deserve Nemo.

When the year changes, Killian feels indebted to him for sacrificing his New Year's kiss with Shakespeare so that Killian and Milah can have their first one together.

But still, lucky overall.

Nearly three years have gone by since Milah's divorce – since they found each other – and still her ex has only changed how often Milah can see her son, not the conditions under which she can.

"You know, I've been thinking," Killian says, "Gold won't like me no matter what, and I don't care. But what do you think Jack will think if I take his mother somewhere amazing, and bring him some really cool gifts back?"

"Buying my son's love? How progressive," she teases him.

"They would be some super amazing gifts if they could buy someone's love," he says in mock deep thinking. "I was only thinking about him seeing that I give a damn."

"What are you planning?"

"I've... set aside some money for a trip. A nice trip. I have some great memories from a trip to the States, but not the best after that. And I was hoping, and, my therapist told me it's not a bad idea, that a second trip there may, you know..."

"The United States?" She smiles. "Where?"

"Wherever you want. Probably not something overly expensive-"

"New York City." Her smile grows wider.

"It does happen to have cheaper plane tickets than, say, the west coast-"

"Yes," she says with a finality as if she's the one leading the trip.

Perhaps she is, Killian thinks with a smile. He would let her lead him anywhere.

Killian convinces Milah to break the rules, just once; it's not that hard when she herself wishes she can have Killian and Jack meet.

Jack is still reserved with Killian, but he's open about wanting an iPhone, a baseball with the New York Yankees logo, and a figurine of the Statue of Liberty. Killian promises him he'll do his best to find them.

"No phone, Killian. He's only eleven," Milah tells him later, when they're alone.

"I 'will' do my best. But customs is a good excuse to not buy it, and it's not like he cannot pester you about buying him one from here," he says, smiling.

The time for their trip comes, and as they settle into their tight seats right in the middle of a four-set seat, Killian recognizes a flight attendant as an old classmate, and as his luck would have it, she recognizes him as well.

After the boarding is completed but before lift-off, the flight attendant comes and carefully lets them know that there are two side-by-side seats on first class whose holders didn't get aboard, and if they get them now they can keep them for the rest of the flight.

"Wow," Milah says as she stares out her window now, holding Killian's hand tight in excitement. "My first trip abroad and immediately getting a free update. Though it's our first together," she smiles at him, "and I wouldn't mind staying cooped up in the other seats with you. But it is fucking awesome."

His idea proves to be excellent. He knows that, no matter what happens, he will never forget how happy she was to explore the city, to see the view from the Top of the Rock, to watch the sun set while sailing over the Hudson River on Clipper City... okay, not that that wasn't big for him too.

They decide to top off their trip by going out clubbing on their last night. It's a bit hectic, but the drinks are great, and the music is good, and the mood brings them into further dancing, and drinking, on Killian's part.

"Don't worry, baby," Milah says, a bit tipsy herself, "I'll take care of you even if I have to carry your sorry ass to the hotel."

He ends up so drunk he can't even stay standing up while waiting for his turn in the single bathroom. The queue disperses soon after a woman comes to sit next to him, apparently as drunk as he is. It's his turn, but he hates to leave her waiting. He gestures with his hand towards the bathroom door.

"Go ahead."

"No, it's okay," she says, her words slurred together. "I can wait."

"Go, please. I'm not one to leave a lady waiting."

"Oh, how a gentleman... what gentleman..."

He shakes his head a little. What has she had? Not much worse than what he's had, he manages to think as his brain seems to slosh inside his skull from just that last movement.

"Can I kiss you?" she says, finally.

What the hell. It's just a kiss, right? He shrugs.

He sees her come forward, then her lips touch his and start pulling them apart.

(A/N: Since Milah's son and the man who betrayed Emma had to be two separate people, I called Milah's son Jack; in the show, the original casting call for Neal's character called him “Jack”, so my choice is an allusion to that.

Also, I am shamelessly borrowing the idea of pairing Nemo with Captain Shakespeare from the movie Stardust, as inspired by some very creative people on tumblr, though I cannot remember which of those lovely people first created the idea. His first name here is borrowed and anglicized from the character Captain Johannes Alberic, the character from the book Stardust that Shakespeare in the film was recreated from.)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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shiishki · 3 years

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okay wait, i changed my mind. you should answer all of these questions as well, if that's what you want from me >:)

oof there's a lot of it, that's what i get for wanting to be ✨aesthetic✨

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

vowels (and the importance of being me) - hunny

honeypie - jawny

pretty young thing - michael jackson

mirrors - justin timberlake

sunflower - red orange county

paradise - rude-a

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

a therapist.

ok someone else.. uhh,, my grand grandma because i only have scratches of memories but i dunno if that counts since she passed away...

*rummages through ancient scripts* uhh ok someone who isn't dead.. uhm,, tommie? yeah I'd like to meet them if i could meet anyone on earth

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

ok, the closest german, english or polish book? nvm i have english

"suddenly was. So I just said thank you a few times too, and Mum" ironically this is one of the normal lines in this book

4: What do you think about most?

the fact that I'll have to do something after school. and I don't know if i want to go to college or get a job bc i have no legitimate idea on what to do with my life. it gets overwhelming, just the lack of knowledge about the actual experience.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

with, tho i sleep with just shorts in summer

7: What’s your strangest talent?

not sure if it's a talent, but i can fall asleep anywhere

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

girls are pretty. boys are pretty

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

by me, yes. no one else has written a poem about me specifically. nvm, tommie wrote one and it shall rest on my wall, or desk, i need to find a place for it

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

uhh i think last month?

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

i don't think so, but i am hella afraid of the possibly gigantic, terrifying things in the ocean depths that humans haven't discovered yet

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

yep, beloved legos as a lil child

13: What’s your religion?

i can't ever remember the name, but i believe gods (from all religions) exist in some way or form. so i believe in different pantheons and etc.

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

walking my doggo, skateboarding, thinking about how to make the lives of my characters worse

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

behind it.

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

uhmm the arctic monkeys? or the strokes

17: What was the last lie you told?

i know what i want

18: Do you believe in karma?

yes, the rule of three specifically

19: What does your URL mean?

i don't know. it's something me and my sis came up with and that's just my whole identity now.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

uhh greatest weakness.. i can't finish things. strength is that I'm very stubborn so maybe I'll finish that thing out of spite

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

i grew up thinking crushes were like unicorns. my ex was odd enough to argue with that i didn't love her if i didn't have a crush on her. but I think if i had to guess.. selena gomez, especially in the role of alex russo in wizard of weverly street

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

i write angry letters. sometimes they're sad letters. i write a lot of letters. except i never send them out and no one made a movie about them :}

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

jars and witchy bottles, books? scented candles

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

phone calls are stressful enough as is, i don't need you to see my reading off what i frantically wrote to not stumble over my words

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

i think so, yes, but that won't stop me from becoming better

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

hate flies buzzing right by my ear, love cat purring

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

what if I'd been born in a place where it was illegal for me (nonbinary) to live, in a time when others thought of me as a curse?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

they be chilling.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

right arm, doggo, left arm, pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

fresh air and doggo, because doggo is with me and I can't live without open windows

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

i dunno tbh

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

which one is less homophobic?

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

every gender is my opposite gender. selena gomez and justin timberlake

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

to make it easier for people down the line

36: Define Art.

make thing, thing goes woo

37: Do you believe in luck?

yis

38: What’s the weather like right now?

it's nice actually, very sunny, slight breeze

39: What time is it?

12.59 am

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

i don't, but i once crashed into a fire department vehicle with my bike. bike ded.

41: What was the last book you read?

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

i legit ass don't know what gasoline smells like.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

many variations of my name, aka. Luce

44: What was the last film you saw?

i think it was Robin Hood: King of Thieves, but it might have been that half of spider-man homecoming i managed to watch with my poor internet

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

oh man i dunno... it's not an injury, but i was very sickly as a lil kid and almost died :)

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

once, years ago

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

hmmm horizon zero dawn i think

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

proud pansexual ^^

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

not really, i don't think they're big enough to be actual rumors,, meh

50: Do you believe in magic?

yis

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

meh. they suck, i know they suck, that's it.

52: What is your astrological sign?

cancer ♋

53: Do you save money or spend it?

i attempt saving. attempt

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

for my own money, sweets. i bought lizards for my cats so they can brush their teeth from my dad's amazon acc

55: Love or lust?

luv

56: In a relationship?

nope, i buy my own cookies

57: How many relationships have you had?

1, kinda toxic toward the end, very stressful, don't recommend

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

nu ><

59: Where were you yesterday?

on the fields walking my doggo

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

yep, a pastel pink hoodie in my closet uwu

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

yis, thicc warm socks

62: What’s your favourite animal?

cats

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

cuddles and food.

64: Where is your best friend?

bold of you to assume i have a best friend.

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

tommie-hildebrandt, kageyuji, nekomas-kuroo, joyful-soul-collector

66: What is your heritage?

I'm a demon boi from Poland tho that's not a thing to be proud of, i mean, look at the economy. awful.

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

sleeping, trying to sleep.

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Pinkton. or Satan.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

this is such an odd combination of words i had to look it up. yea.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

a friend who won't laugh at me when i ask them to order smth for me because I'm too anxious to.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

excuse me? i am saving the doggo wtf. f u boss, I'm gonna sell my tragic story to the news.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

a) i tell my parents. b) live the hell out of them uwu c) nope uwu.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

history maker - dean fujioka :]

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

3332

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

communication, trust, some more communication.

77: How can I win your heart?

let's not pretend to be something else to please each other, and bring some bitter chocolate.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

maybe. it could. i don't have a say in it since my sanity is held by tape.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

eat the pizza. stop caring about others not liking me/parts of me. just living for myself uwu.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

uh i dunno how the american sizes work and i don't wanna look it up so, 39, 40 fits too.

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

demon boi

82: What is your favourite word?

socks.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

the bloody organ that sits in your chest and pumps blood into your body so you don't die.

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

uhm im not sure if that counts as a saying, but fake it till you make it

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

blinding lights - the weeknd

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

oh a normal question people use for ice breaking, sea blue and pastel variations of it.

87: What is your current desktop picture?

like my wallpaper? or the actual picture that sits on my desk? or how my desk looks like atm? it's ugly, a lot of papers and pens and schoolbooks.

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

donald trump. or the next asshole who'll try to take the rights of the lgbt and poc away

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

this. this is the question.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

yo there's a pizza somewhere in the refrigerator, want me to heat it up? we can have a sleep over and talk about our feelings :3

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

telekinesis! or shapeshifting! i could do such fun things with telekinesis ^^ yeah I'd totally eat some radioactive veggies

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

that time my "friends" got me into shoplifting, half-hour is more than enough to punch some sense into my brain and develop good music taste

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

can i save this one? i don't think i have an experience horrible enough to be erased haha

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

sleep as in.. uh no thank u. but I'm down for a sleep over with sam smith ^^

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

just me? what about my pets? my fam? it's lowkey illegal for me to go just anywhere without them owO

uhhmm, greece. imma become part of the greek pantheon out of pure spite. and maybe toronto canada.

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

not any that i know of o.o

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

i think i may have but i honestly don't remember

98: Ever been on a plane?

nope, i dunno if i like planes, but I'd probably sleep if i were on one.

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

yeet.

#that was long #probably because my stubborn ass wanted to make pretty formatting #shiishki.rambles #shiishki.interacts with tommie

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Hello, are there any Cassandra Cain fans/stans that could help me out with her characterization? I’ve just started to get into writing fanfiction (I haven’t posted any, and am working towards getting more confident with writing the characters in general so hopefully I’ll post some someday) and I haven’t been in the fandom long. Cass is a confusing character for me to write, mostly because I feel like she’s written differently in everything she’s in. And her personality absolutely got erased and overhauled in the New52. I’ve read some of her Batgirl run (it was awhile ago ngl) and I read the storyline where she was introduced in the New52 and the Rise and the Fall of the Batmen (I think that’s the arc she’s involved in with Detective Comics). Idk, more under cut.

My goal in writing Cass is to make her seem like a real person and I’m drawing more on pre-New52 than post-New52. I feel like she used to have so much more to her than just being like a perfect person and the sweetest person in general. Not that she can’t be sweet (I love cinnamon bun Cass too), but she used to have much more grit to her personality it seems like. I’m blending the two personalities, and I’d really like to focus on her love for dance, it’s one of the changes I really liked, and of course her connections to her siblings because I love sibling dynamics. Currently I’m working on a fic where she ends up dancing with each of her siblings. I like the idea of writing her as a bit snarky or sassy (the kind of person that just stares at you with the “really” expression when you do something dumb), more introverted, a bit of a little shit, self deprecating, but genuinely kind hearted, driven, and a perfectionist. I also don’t want to write her as being a magic character that instantly knows what’s wrong with a character. Yeah, she can read body language, but her family is good at hiding things, they’ve been trained recognizing body language and I’m guessing some of them have worked to have good control over their own. My interpretation is she can tell what people are feeling but not why, and how they’re going to move. I’ve written a little bit of the fic so far (um please don’t feel obligated to read through it, any comments on how you think Cass should be written is helpful) so I’ll post it below. Thanks for reading this far if you made it XD.

I don’t have a title for this lmao but the fic starts here:

“Hey.” Dick gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he hopped down from his spot on the water tower. “You know who’s my most favorite, strongest, most beautiful, spectacular-”

Cass groaned; he was making the face. He was wearing his Nightwing mask, but as she turned to look, she could already tell he was making the face. Dick ignored her groans and continued “-most perfect, amazing, gorgeous, sweetest, nicest, kindhearted, thoughtful-”

Cass pulled away; she would not be doing what he asked. Nope. The last time she heard Dick talking like this, Barbara ended up agreeing to dog sit for Titus. The dog chewed everything in the clocktower; they were still finding ripped up socks in various locations. “He’s so well behaved” he said. “It won’t be for that long” he said. “You’re the best thank you so, so much” he said. On the bright side, Dick had bought her new ballet shoes to replace the ones Titus tore through. But they’d taken weeks to break in and-oh he was still talking.

“-smartest, wisest, funniest, loveliest, badass, awesomest, funnest-” Cass placed her hands on her hips and stood up to meet him. The stakeout had been going fine on her own, at this rate she probably didn’t need his backup anyways, so if this was something stupid, she could always tell him to leave. She gave him her best “bat-glare” as he continued to mumble on compliments. “fantastic, reliable, trustworthy-” his voice grew smaller as she continued glaring. He cleared his throat “sister of all time?” He finished.

Cass sighed and leaned back against the tower’s support. “What do you want?” Dick gave her a weak smile, embarrassment radiated off him. That couldn’t be good.

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase.” Thank heavens for that. “But like, just know I love you so much.” Cass wished she could stick her tongue out, maybe the domino mask was the way to go. She settled for lightly shoving his shoulder. He grinned at her, doing his best to seem casual, but slight tension in his neck gave away his discomfort. Dick was always hard for her to read, he was a performer from birth, and had excellent control of his posture and facial expressions. He gave himself away in movement, in the lack thereof. He could paint the perfect mask, but it slipped slightly when he moved. He was nervous, anxious, exasperated, and worried. Cass was intrigued.

“What is it?” She said, more gently than before, turning back to watch her mark. She could hear Dick let out a deep breath.

“It’s Da-Robin. He got invited to a formal.” Cass turned back and cocked her head. “Don’t give me that look, you know how he is.” He said, shifting his weight. “It’s a school event, so they’ve been learning ballroom dance in gym. But I got a call the other day from the gym teacher saying he’s not participating.”

“Why should he?” Cass asked. “You shouldn’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.” Living with the family long enough had taught her that. If the kid didn’t want to dance, he shouldn’t have to.

“Yeah, I know.” Dick replied a bit flatly. He moved to crouch where she had been sitting and focused on the building across the street. “But I don’t know if he doesn’t want to, or if he’s just embarrassed.” Cass thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose he grew up with many dance lessons.” He added a bit apologetically. She shook her head.

“Have you talked to him?” She asked. Dick sighed.

“I tried. But he kept switching topics and when I pressed it, he locked himself in his room. Which is why I’m concerned.” Cass hummed in affirmation. It made sense.

“Why haven’t you tried teaching him?” Dick wasn’t a bad dancer, and he’d always performed quite well at the galas.

He looked back at her sheepishly. “I gave it a go last time I was at the manor. But he stormed off before we could get anything done. Something about me being an embarrassment to the family.”

Cass rolled her eyes under the cowl. “What did you do?”

“I just wanted to do some jazzercising to warm up, what’s wrong with that?” Dick spluttered in response. Cass lightly smacked the back of his head. “So anyways, I lost my chance at it. I can’t even play music without him running away.” He continued, ducking away as she tried to tap him again. “Besides, you’re probably a better height to practice with for him.” She scoffed in response.

“When’s the gala?” She asked. It slipped out without her permission. She wasn’t getting involved. The kid could figure it out on his own. Couldn’t he?

“It’s next weekend.” He replied and sighed. “I don’t want him to miss it. He never does stuff that’s age appropriate.” Oh, no. Not that card. Cass would not be involved, she had work to do. She stepped back to lean against the tower again and bit her lip. “And some girl in his class asked him to go. Her name’s Maps and she’s a really good influence on him.” She crossed her arms tighter. Damian was rude to her. He called her Cain. Not. Getting. Involved. “She’s so energetic, it helps him loosen up-” Damnit.

“Fine.” Dick whipped around to look at her, not bothering to hide his disbelief. She squirmed internally. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the kid. It was just easier to spend time on her own. The kid was better off without her influence anyways.

“Are you sure, I could ask Steph or I don’t know-” He continued.

She cut him off. “I’ll do it. I don’t mind.” The others wouldn’t work. Dick knew that going into the conversation. They were too…loud in their judgement. Steph would laugh at the wrong time, Tim would say the wrong thing, Jason didn’t have the patience for the kid’s temper, and Duke would be a safe bet, but was away on Outsider business for the next two weeks.

Dick practically melted in relief. “Thank you so-”

“You owe me, big brother.” Cass reminded.

“Anything you want, little sister.” He promised. “Are hugs acceptable as a down payment? I could kiss you right now.”

“Eww.” Cass made a face under the mask but strode forward as he opened his arms and stood for a hug. He eagerly wrapped her in a bear hug. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re winning sister of the year award.” He said as he released her.

“You’re making me cookies.” She retorted. Dick grimaced.

“Can I buy them?” He asked hesitantly. She shook her head.

“Homemade, with love. And I’m watching.” She added, smirking under the mask. Dick sunk back down into position.

“I’ll do my best.” He promised. Cass snickered. The last time Dick tried making cookies, he apparently caught his oven mitts on fire. There was still a bit of cookie dough on the ceiling he hadn’t noticed yet.

A flash of movement jolted her back into reality, their mark was making his move. She shot her grapple, and Dick quickly followed suit. “I’ll text you the plan tomorrow.” He promised as they leapt into the night.

Thanks so much if you read this far, and please comment or send me feedback directly if you have the time and don’t mind. I’m sorry if you completely disagree with how I characterized her (or Dick/Damian for that matter) I’m mostly relying on Damian’s canon interactions with her and Dick’s half canon half fanon personality (I know they don’t get on great in the comics...but sibling dynamics) and the rest of this portion of the fic would focus on Damian earning more respect for her (and learning to call her Cass - not Cain).

#i don't know how i feel about posting this #this is the first time i've posted some of my writing #and it isn't betad or anything #please help me #i don't know what i'm doing #i don't even have an AO3 account cuz i'm such a noob #it's gonna take time #a whole lot of precious time #but someday i will hopefully post a fic or two #if i ever finish one of them...#cassandra cain #batgirls #batfam #batman #dc #black bat #orphan

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vikingpoteto · 4 years

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27, 9, pick any two bats

To no one’s surprise I pick Jason and Tim + cleaning wounds + “Listen, I know it’s hard, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Red Robin looks around his kitchen and tries to list 5 things he can see. The pictures of his friends held by magnets on the fridge. The pile of dirty mugs in the sink. The unread papers spread on the table. The closed window. The trail of blood leading to the counter where he’s sitting. He makes a mental note to clean that up in the morning. Before that train of thought leads him somewhere else, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 4 things he can touch now. The leather of his cowl that he slowly peels away. The cold surface of the counter. The hard wall behind his back. The needle between his fingers. Another deep breath. 3 things he can hear. The clock ticking against the loud silence. Traffic and distant sirens. His mildly ragged breath. He opens his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have any cracked ribs. Another deep breath. He can smell antiseptic and also something coppery. He licks his lips. The one thing he can taste is the bitter pang from the antibiotics he took.

Tim Drake glares at the needle. This isn’t the first time he had to stitch himself up. This isn’t the first time he had to take care of his own wounds.

However, this is the first time he’s the one and only responsible for it.

In another life, he would do a patch job, emergency stuff only, and then get to Alfred as soon as he could for a double check. In a time that felt like a dream now, he would have the latest health tech available and Cissie hovering over his bed while Cassie fussed about how he irresponsibly hurt himself, Bart made a joke out of everything and Conner, of all people, would be the one getting Tim proper care. Less than a month ago, the most deadly organization of the world was making sure Tim was getting the best care available. While his trembling fingers put the thread in the needle, he thinks of the almost healed scar from a damn splenectomy. He doesn’t know what Ra’s people had done to him, but he’s been recovering unnaturally fast, especially considering his immunity.

Tim bites his tongue and looks down at his battered outfit. He could go to Leslie’s clinic. But it’d be stupid to go all the way there for a couple of bruises and a wound that would probably take less than five stitches. Tim could go to the cave, but… No. He puts the needle down and starts pulling his shirt out. He can’t completely muffle a pained groan and he hates the way it echoes in his empty kitchen. It’s been less than a week since he left Dick, Alfred and Damian. He’s an emancipated adult by all means. Bruce trained him to be independent. He can do this.

Except… as soon as he reaches for the antiseptic, he hears a noise coming from the living room. Tim freezes. You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the nights to have a robber breaking into his apartment, tonight? Did it have to be tonight?

Painstakingly, he jumps to the floor and reaches for his staff. He has half a mind to get his cowl, but he thinks Tim Drake defending himself with what could’ve been a broomstick is easier to explain than Red Robin just hanging out at his place. If he’s lucky - and, after tonight, he feels like the universe owes him - he’ll knock out the robber before they see him.

The most ridiculous thing about all this is that he feels like crying. He doesn’t know why. He barely remembers the last time he cried. Probably right before he realized Bruce could be alive. As much as he’s in pain now, this is no reason to cry like a baby. Especially not in front of a robber.

Tim silently hides by the side of the fridge and listens. The person in his living room is good. He can barely hear their steps. He can tell there is only one of them, however, and, judging by the way the sound become louder, they’re coming towards the kitchen. Partly to focus on his hearing, partly to ignore the way his eyes are glazing over, he closes his eyes, listens and waits. He waits. He waits a little more.

Ignoring the way his muscles ache in protest, he swirls around and aims for the gut, hoping to knock the air out of the robber. Gloved hands grab his staff and the invader takes a step back before recovering his balance.

“Woah,” he says in a familiar voice, “easy there.”

Tim raises his gaze to face him. Red Hood lets go of the staff in order to remove the helmet, revealing Jason Todd’s frown. Tim feels his shoulders slumping.

“What the fuck, Jason?” Tim hisses. He feels his voice will break if he tries to speak up.

“I should be the one asking that.” Jason puts his helmet aside. He takes one second glancing around until he finds Tim’s medical supplies. “Is this sanitary? Shouldn’t you be doing first aid in your high tech basement?”

He should. It would’ve been more practical than getting the whole first aid kit and bringing it up here. However, using his medical bay for the first time… It would make it all too real. Too definitive. Tim can’t tell Jason that.

“Medical bay isn’t finished. Kitchen or bathroom were my best options,” he lies.

“Hm,” Jason says as though he doesn’t believe him.

Tim could lie to Batman if he needed to, but, for some reason, Jason seems to always know the truth.

Without another word, Jason takes off his gloves and leather jacket. He drops them aside and walks to the sink. Tim doesn’t ask Jason how he knows where Tim lives - he won’t insult Jason’s detective abilities like that - but he does frown at the older boy as he strides through Tim’s kitchen like he owns the place.

In fact, Tim doesn’t want to ask anything. He wants to scream at Jason to go away. He wants to lie down on the cold floor and not move for days. It’s comical in a twisted way that Tim had been just thinking longinly about the time in which he wasn’t alone, and, now that he has company, he wants nothing but to go back in time and hide inside the cupboard until Jason goes away.

“What are you doing?” Tim croaks.

“Washing my hands,” Jason says simply. He turns to Tim and waves at him to come closer.

It’s a testament to how miserable Tim feels that he does it without questioning. Jason arches an eyebrow at him and points at the counter where Tim had been sitting not long ago. Tim doesn’t move, even as Jason wipes his hands dry with paper towels and reaches for the hand sanitizer in Tim’s medical kit.

“Jason,” Tim insists. “What are you doing?”

Jason sighs. “One of my guys told me this new vigilante, this Red Robin guy, took an ugly beating near the harbor while he took down one of Sionis’ turfs.”

“It wasn’t an ugly beating,” Tim mumbles.

“Wasn’t it?” Jason asks, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Was it easy to fight fifteen guys at the same time, Superman? Did it feel wise to bring a freaking staff to a knife fight?”

“I won!” Tim says.

“Yeah, and which victorious mighty hero is bloody and purple all over?” Jason barks. “Sit your ass down, Replacement!”

Tim flinches and… freaking hell, his eyes are stinging again, which is the most absurd thing ever.

Jason sighs one more time, but this time he sounds… Well, annoyed isn’t quite the right word. He does sound somewhat irritated, but there is something else in his tone. Discomfort? Embarrassment?

“That’s not… Ugh, I’m sorry, alright?”

Except that’s actually worse.

Moments ago, Tim wanted nothing but to be seen. It was pathetic. He wasn’t even that hurt and tonight hadn’t been special. It was just the first time he went out for patrol since he moved into his new apartment. He didn’t stop Poison Ivy, didn’t get into a scuffle with Harvey Dent. He just put away a bunch of low level henchmen even if he miscalculated how many of them would be there. Such a small feat, but there was a part of him that wanted someone to acknowledge that. To see all the bruises and bloody scabs, to pat him on the back and tell him he was great for how hard he was working.

How childish.

Now that there is someone and he seems to be fully aware of Tim’s misery - enough to apologize for speaking a little too loud - Tim only feels small and stupid. He should’ve hidden it better, he shouldn’t be in this sorry state at all.

The last time he saw Jason, they made amends. Just returned to Gotham after his mishaps with the League of Shadows, Tim found him to let him know he was aware that Red Hood was active again. Jason had said - albeit not in so many words - he lamented trying to kill Tim one year ago. Tim had told him it was water under the bridge by now and they agreed to work around each other, even if Jason still didn’t meet Dick eye to eye after last year. Then Tim had promised himself he would become strong like that. Jason had been through hell and back so many times and he always bounced back on his own. Why couldn’t Tim?

Maybe that’s why it felt like rubbing salt to the injury when Tim glares at Jason, the boy he was supposed to replace, the man whose shoes were too big for Tim to fill, and Tim’s vision is blurry with tears and his voice is overflowing with frustration when he asks yet again:

“What are you doing here?”

Jason meets his gaze. His brown eyes show clear unease, but he doesn’t look away. His brow is furrowed as though this is painful to admit, but he finally says:

“I heard you were probably hurt like that,” Jason gestures at Tim’s bare torso. “I knew you weren’t going to the cave for aid, so I brought the aid to you.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t go there either,” he states simply.

Tim bites his lip. “You dealt with your wounds alone after you came back.”

“Yes,” Jason says. He gestures at the counter again. This time, Tim sits. “I know it sucks. You ever tried stitching your own back? It’s really fucking hard.”

Tim looks down and doesn’t say anything. Jason brings a damp cotton ball to Tim’s wounds and stats methodically cleaning them. Tim doesn’t flinch, even when it really stings. Even when he feels like shame and guilt are all going to drown him.

“How did you do it?” Tim finally asks.

“The back stitches? A mirror and one of those grabby claw things, whatever they’re called…”

Tim glares at him.

“So serious,” Jason complains. Then, in a calm voice, “I did it the same way you were doing before I got here. If I didn’t I’d die. Guess I wanted to keep living. You’d be impressed with the things people do when they have no other option.”

“You’re incredible,” Tim admits quietly. “I’m not like you. I’m not strong or… I gotta do this alone. I don’t know how.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying out loud all the things he struggled to keep hidden for so fucking long. Jason doesn’t seem surprised with the confession though. He keeps calmly checking Tim’s injuries.

“Not strong, huh? Which one of us took fifteen guys in a fight and won?”

“You know what I mean, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason grabs the needle Tim picked earlier and checks it before starting to work. “I know. Except you don’t gotta do anything, Timbers. And I don’t mean the vigilante thing. Fuck, I know none of us can quit this fucking life. We’re in too deep. I meant you’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. That’s what fucked up the old man. That’s how you lose yourself.”

“What’s that?” Tim scoffs. “You sound like a shrink.”

Jason looks up and smirks. “Maybe I have a shrink.”

Tim frowns. “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jason.”

He chuckles. “Okay, so… I know it seems crazy, but she found me and asked me to join my crew in exchange for taking off this explosive thing that Amanda Waller put in her. And she’s crazy competent, so…”

“No,” Tim interrupts him. “You did not let Harley Quinn join your crew.”

“Actually, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy,” Jason has a shit eating grin even as he finishes his stitch job. “They’re a package deal. Ivy showed up a couple of days after Harley and I couldn’t get her to leave so…”

“You’re working with Harley Quinn and letting her give you therapy sessions,” Tim says. “Am I on a parallel Earth? Have those guys killed me and I’m hallucinating?”

“A lot changes in a year, Timbers, you’ve been gone for a while,” Jason shrugs. “People change too.”

“Not that much!” Tim protests.

“Is that so? Then how come you gave me, what now, three, four second chances?” Jason glares at him.

That catches Tim off guard. He takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tim asks, genuinely confused.

“I came back, I tried to kill you. You let it go. I get arrested, you help me to break out. I thank you by losing it after seeing B’s clusterfuck of a testament. You come back like it was nothing and tell me you hope to do business in the future. And you think I’m insane for giving shelter to an abused lady?”

“I’m not saying you’re insane for helping her. I’m saying I wouldn’t trust her advice,” Tim corrects. “Besides I know what you’ve been through. I understand, even if the others don’t. You’re still a hero. Why wouldn’t I help you get back in the game?”

“Because I could hurt you again, you moron,” Jason frustratedly points out.

“You could also be helpful. I decided it was worth taking the chance,” Tim states.

“Yeah, you did,” Jason whispers, using the bandaging as an excuse to avoid Tim’s gaze. “You’re the best of us, Tim. I’m not letting you crash like I did so many times.”

Tim just stares, his lips parted in shock.

That’s when he feels the dam breaking and tears finally start to stream freely down his cheeks. He sniffles and makes that horrible choked up sound of someone vainly trying not to cry. Jason keeps tending to his injuries even as Tim’s body shakes with barely contained sobs and Tim doesn’t know if he’s ignoring the meltdown out of mercy or because he simply doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s probably both.

By the time Jason finishes wrapping up Tim’s many scrapes and rubbing medicine on countless bruises, Tim has managed to contain his sobs and is gingerly trying to wipe his face and pretending he doesn’t feel like he almost drowned.

“Listen, I know it’s hard, Baby Bird,” Jason mutters, a tad awkwardly. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s not just you against the world.”

“Then what, is it the two of us against it?” Tim tries to quip.

“Maybe,” Jason says. “You did a lot for me. It’s about time I start deserving it.”

“I didn’t do it because I wanted you to pay me back.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here, dumbass,” Jason takes a step back. “I’m done. Go get changed into a pair of sweatpants or something. I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of 2am cereal.”

Tim lets out a chuckle. “I’ve eaten cereal at 2am before, Jason.”

“Not mine, you haven’t. Chop, chop, kid, we don’t have all night.”

Tim listens to him.

He should know better, after all he had experienced new beginnings before. All of them inevitably lead to crashing and burning, some rather spectacularly too.

However… There are a few firsts here. This is the first time someone truly understands. This is the first time Tim doesn’t feel like he’s entering a challenge, that he has to earn his place as Robin, as Young Justice’s leader. He feels like his place had been earned, like there’s a small beacon of hope after a long struggle.

Tim lets himself accept it.

#wingsdingsandpurplethings #jason todd #red hood #red robin #tim drake #red bros #batfam #poteto writing #sorry it took me so long leaps

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awkwardbluefish · 3 years

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Moments Captured in Time

Bruce was tired. Exhausted really.

Despite the burning behind his eyes and the damp drapes of curtains that were his eyelids he continued to work, continued to gaze at the luminescent blue screen before him. It was quiet in the cave, yet the migraine continued to pulse behind his eyes and tighten in their sockets. Some would argue Bruce wasn’t really working, they’d be right in a way. Technically he was working, but the only reason why was in avoidance of something he did not want to go through.

Sleep. He was avoiding going to sleep. Because Bruce knew when he let the curtains fall and the false peacefulness usually bought by darkness then the nightmares would kick in. The memories would burn, flickering in his head like a burning candle despite how desperately he tried to make it to stop. He didn’t want to remember that night. He didn’t want to remember the boy he had failed, the boy he told himself he would protect. He didn’t want to remember the night he had failed his own son, just because he wasn’t fast enough, because he wasn’t clever enough.

For a second, he closes his eyes, let his shoulders sag. The memories begin like a broken record and his heart burns because he knows he was too slow. His heart thumps in the cage he calls his ribs as the visualising begins. There was nothing left that night, nothing left besides a broken boy. There was nothing there of that building but ash and smoking debris. His chest aches because he remembers there was no pulse but checking anyway. He remembers broken ribs shattering under his palms as he pumped, desperate for a single breath. Desperate for five more minutes with his Robin, his son. It hadn’t have worked, his boy remained dead. He stayed a corpse, a life snuffed out far too soon by a psychopath. He was gone.

“Bruce,” the voice forces his eyes to peel a part, cracking them open to see a darkened screen. A sigh escapes his lips as he rolls his shoulders, hearing the bones crack and groan like a hollowed-out house with only the abandoned ghosts left in those walls.

“I’m working Alfred.” His voice is rough, low, as if it’s been through a grinder and barley made it out. He’s not working, a plain as day lie. Alfred doesn’t say anything to that, staying silent.

Bruce forgets sometimes that he isn’t the only one who lost Jason that night. He’s not the only one mourning the boy’s loud absence. He brows wrinkle but no words escape chapped lips. He won’t apologise. Cant. He’s the reason Jason’s gone. He doesn’t deserve to cry, to mourn, when it’s his fault.

“I see.” His father murmurs, and the sadness behind his words slice at his heart, leaving a gaping wound that bleeds sluggishly. Bruce stares at the dark screen as Alfred sighs and in the reflection of a crystal-clear screen he can see the sagged shoulders, the weary tilt of the brow. Out of all of that he zeroes in and the thin envelope cradled in his fingers. Bruce doesn’t ask but Alfred answers. “Master Timothy gave this to me. He noticed you were upset and believed you would enjoy this.”

The envelope lays on the keyboards. Bruce doesn’t reach for it, lowering his head as he thought of the small and brilliant boy. The boy who wiggled his way into his life, made himself such a home that Bruce couldn’t even bare to imagine forcing him out off. He’s failed Tim. Not like he’s failed Jason, god forbid, but he hasn’t been kind to the boy as of late. He’s snapped at Tim, the ocean eyed boy who gazed upon Bruce with such awe he never quite knew what to make off it. He’s taken his grief out on him, the kid that absolutely adored him. That loved him.

“He’s a good kid.” Alfred says. He doesn’t stay after that. But the words echo in Bruce’s head. He knows the words left unsaid. Don’t lose him too. Don’t push him away like you’ve done with Dick.

Eventually Bruce reaches out, lifting the envelope into dried up and broken skinned fingers. Carefully, gently, he opens the letter, watching as paper breaks as it clings to glue. Carefully he pulls the slim piece of something out of the paper cage, breath catching and throat clamping tight as the picture shimmers in the dim lights of the cave.

It was Jason. It was Jason, in his bright costume, alive and happy. It was Jason laughing, his wiry and far too thin arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, doubled over and Bruce can hear his laughter, loud and booming echoing in his ears. Its Jason, laughing at Bruce. Bruce, dressed up as Batman, egg yolk slipping down his cowl. The lighting of the alley shadows his features but Bruce knows he’s smiling because he knows this moment, remembers this moment. It had been nearing Easter, and Dick had created a competition that night to see who could egg Batman the most. Jason had caught him by surprise and Bruce remembers, despite the slimy yolk sliding down his back, cold and thick, he had been so proud of this boy for the surprise attack.

Tim. He had taken this photograph.

Bruce licks his lips, ribs caging in his heart tight. His heart is warm, blood bubbling in his veins. A small laugh breaks free from his lips, his eyes crinkling and heart clenching. He cradles the picture, a moment frozen in time and he smiles, pretending there wasn’t tears clogging up his eyes. A hand cradles his lips and he ducks his head, caving in on himself. In this picture Jason was alive. In this picture Jason was happy. In reality he was neither.

Swallowing down the tears he blinks his eyes, revelling in the fact it was just a tad easier this time despite the tears dampening the curtains even more. He shakes his head, unwashed bangs tickling his forehead. Body aching, heart hammering he forces himself to his feet, photograph clutched gently in his hands. The walls that usually held him up, made him strong, made him invincible, made him Batman, collapse in a pile of debris. Moment by moment, they fall. Salty drops fall down his chin, drenching a grey, sweat damp shirt.

Steadying himself he presses his palms to the black leather chair, focusing on breathing. Vaguely he realises he’s trembling. There was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound, all of this forced out of him by a picture. The sobs were stifled at first as he attempts to hide the grief from the world, from himself, then, overcome with the wave of emotions he just breaks. All the defences he built up those upcoming weeks wash away by salt tasting tears. It was pathetic, the picture he was painting, one of grief, loss and broken devastation.

He had to pull it together. He had to see Tim. He needed to know if there were more, he needs to see these moments frozen in time. He needed to see Jason alive, even if it was just through a picture. He inhales sharply, unfolding himself from the curved form over the chair, picking up the debris of his walls and building them up all over again. The shutters come down; his emotion being walled off behind a mask of coping. He’d wear it around Tim, he had too. He just had to keep it up a little bit more.

Slowly he focuses, roughly scraping his balled-up fist against his cheeks, ridding away the evidence of his loss. Tim took this photograph. Could he have more?

He finds the boy resting on the couch. His face is scrunched up, eyes screwed up, creating wrinkles as he bites at his lips between his mutterings. He’s sitting there, mouth moving a mile a minute as he shifts through contents in an old shoe box. Bruce can’t make out the words, he never could when Tim murmurs like that, voice trying to catch up with his mind. He never minded it though, knowing this was how Tim sorted through his thoughts. He never does it during a stakeout, fingers always taking over and tapping along his knees and up his thighs so Bruce never had a reason to complain.

“You’ll draw blood,” Bruce’s voice echoes in the room. His voice is thick, deep and absolutely wrecked with grief. He swallows, tries to force a smile to his lips when the startled boy jumps, much like a startled cat. It falls short, watching Tim’s eyes fill in panic as he zeros in on the picture still clutched like a prized possession withing Bruce’s fingers.

Tim opens his mouth and Bruce can see the impending apologies about to spew from his lips, so, he steps forward. His lips clamp shut, tight as a clam and Bruce fiddles with the white edged border around the delicate photograph. God forbid, he was scared. He shakes his head and he knows he looks absolutely terrible and wrecked and he knows Tim can see it and he knows he thinks he’s done something wrong. But he hasn’t. Tim has done something absolutely perfect.

“Do you have more?” He asks and his chest burns but it’s nothing compared to his throat, coals stuck in the back of it.

Tim gazes at him, analysing. Then he nods, small and soft. His small, frail body shuffles over, cradling the shoe box tight to his chest. When Bruce doesn’t move, too scared too, he pats the cream cushion next to him, not meeting his gaze as he stares into the box with acute determination.

The weight shifts when he sits down and a small smile twitches at his lips when Tim’s raised along with the pillow. The boy isn’t bothered, smiling his small triumph when he finds whatever it is, he’s looking for. Carefully he pulls it out and holds it to his chest, eyes flickering to Bruce’s desperate expressions and nodding. He licks his lips, holds out the photograph at arms length.

Bruce nearly snatches at it, afraid that it would disappear into thin air. Despite the urge he’s slow, fingers twitching hesitantly a second away before Tim gently, forcefully, passes it to Bruce. His gaze flickers to the other picture, lips twitching by the way Bruce crinkles the edges with his grip. He makes no move to take it away and Bruce is grateful, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give Jason away again.

It takes a while for him to look at it, watching Tim give an encouraging nod at him that contrasts with the terror hidden behind those ocean orbs. He was scared he was doing something wrong, that he’d just hurt Bruce more. He could see the hidden worries behind those eyes. He was scared Bruce wouldn’t like it and Bruce could not stand that look on his childs’ face. He smiles, numb as it is, and trails his own blue piercing eyes to the photograph lying on his palm.

His eyes rake over the picture, devouring all the little details in a second. Despite that all he truly makes out is Jason, his boy alive and happy. There’s a huge grin on his face, mouth full of glimmering teeth. The domino covers his eyes but Bruce is brought to tears at the mere thought of how bright they are, how bright they were.

Any resolve crumbles and the pictures tumble out of his hands. He reaches out, desperate to cling to reality. His arms cradle around the boys’ shoulders, bringing him to his chest with a yelp muffled into his shoulder blade. Limbs are everywhere, bones digging into his thighs, arms and chest. A nose is pressed deep into his breast but it was nothing but good. The tears begin sliding down his cheeks again and Bruce was always and ugly crier but at this moment he couldn’t care less. Gently he cuddles the boy to him, burying his face into coconut scented locks, swallowing thickly, coals burning in his throat and his chest as he cries. He makes no sound, chest heaving and he feels oh so small hands weaving themselves around his back. His boy hugs him back, hesitant and nervous and Bruce brings him closer, having half the mind to place the brown shoe box digging into their waists on the crystal coffee table.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and the boy he manhandled onto his lap stiffens in surprise and if that doesn’t hurt Bruce than he has no idea what will. “Thank you, Tim, these are brilliant. Thank you for showing me.” He whispers, like it’s a secret only Tim is allowed to hear. The boy slackens in his hold, slowly and then he’s digging his cold nose into his shoulder blade and Bruce is laughing, tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes staining red the more the tears willingly spill.

“You can keep them,” Tim murmurs into his chest. Bruce’s voice is too wrecked, too broken to even speak. He swallows around the coals logged in his throat and manages to hum. Tim hums back and Bruce chuckles wetly, hearing Dick whisper in his ear about Tim being a Bruce translator.

“I’m so proud of you,” his words crack as tears begin to dry and crust on his cheeks and stubbled chin. Tim hums again, seemingly content with the silence. “I knew you knew our secret. But taking pictures of us? Absolutely brilliant, little ninja. You’ve done good. So good.”

Bruce says nothing after that, not when the arms tighten almost painfully around his waist, not even when his shirt dampens. He doesn’t tell Tim this is the first time he’s willingly cried in front of anyone without resistance. He doesn’t say this is the first time he’s laughed, smiled on the day of Jason’s death. He doesn’t tell Tim he’s the only reason why Bruce is keeping together. He doesn’t tell Tim he’s the glue keeping this small and broken family together. What he does tell Tim, is that he loves him.

#I’ve never felt so inspired before and you can thank Niul for that!!#tim drake #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dc #my writing #mine #angst

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

There! Finalized my model sheet for my HPMA girl, Anastasia Read! You can read more about her here at this moodboard post I did for her, but basically she’s a Gryffindor who dreams more than she talks and is determined to be the heroine of her own fantasy story.

Some more info about Ana under the cut...

Ana doesn’t resemble her biological parents, John Read and Bonnie Pinkstone-Read, much at all except in hair color (both are also brunettes). Her soft, endomorph frame, strong shoulders, and bluish gray eyes come from her maternal grandfather. As an adult Ana’s even taller than her mother Bonnie, who’s very petite all the way around.

Poor Ana is actually quite self-conscious about her weight, thanks in no small part to the, um...attempts at support from her mother Bonnie, who frequently expresses “concern” about Ana’s health because of her size. At school she wears a highwaisted skirt to hide her tummy, as if she wore a skirt like all of the other girls’, she’d look like -- in her mother’s words -- “a sack of potatoes tied in two.” It’s also the reason she always wears pants, tights or leggings -- she thinks her legs are very chubby and unattractive. Despite her roundness, however, Ana’s also always had very strong shoulders and is on the taller side compared to her other female classmates, which helps her put off a tougher image.

Bonnie Read’s biggest foible as a mother is her immaturity. She wants to be Ana’s “friend” more than a mentor most of the time, and so has difficulty enforcing discipline or even in setting a good example. Bonnie almost immediately dated three other men after divorcing John, all of whom either pointedly ignored or expressed open resentment toward her daughter Ana, before she finally met, dated, and married her second husband. Bonnie’s dependent personality and (as mentioned) subconscious weightism doesn’t help matters either.

Ana’s father John Read is an active-duty soldier. He’s actually an incredibly absent father who never really had much interest in having a family, but Ana’s always put him on a bit of pedestal, partly because of her image of him having become a soldier for noble reasons like serving his country and partly because him not being there to actively be a poor parent like her mother Bonnie made it easier for Ana to romanticize John in her mind. Ana writes to John very frequently. John doesn’t write back much at all.

Ana’s best mentor figure is her stepfather, Bradley Pinkstone (a wizard and Gryffindor alumnus himself). He and his two grown sons Jasper and Preston (a Slytherin and Gryffindor in their day) are very affectionate toward Ana, which kind of weirded her out at first, considering she’s not their blood relative and she’d assumed they’d hate her...but oh, was she ever so glad to be wrong! The new Pinkstone-Read family live in a rather pretty brick house in Stratford-Upon-Avon.

Her best and favorite class is History of Magic, but she tends to enjoy all classes where she can write essays. She’s always been miles ahead of her classmates when it comes to writing, especially considering that there are no specific writing or grammar classes taught at Hogwarts. Just about every written assignment Ana’s ever submitted has gotten an O.

Contrariwise, she struggles in classes that are more “physical” like Care of Magical Creatures or Flying.

Despite not getting into Flying class or Quidditch, though, Ana does take time to practice flying on her own at night when no one else is around. She finds moonlit broom rides incredibly romantic and great inspiration whenever she’s suffering from writer’s block.

Ana’s an avid journal keeper! She goes through a good five of them every year. She generally magically shrinks her finished creativity journals for easier storage, and she always hexes whichever one she’s currently writing in order to make sure no one else can open it. (If you’re somehow lucky enough to get her permission, she’ll open her creativity journal for you so you can read it and look at the doodles she did.)

Her favorite authors are Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Hans Christian Andersen, and William Shakespeare. Her favorite type of movies are high fantasy like The Princess Bride, Stardust, and The Lord of the Rings.

Ana’s also huge into Japanese manga! Her one true love is Sailor Moon, but she’s very fond of shoujo manga titles like Cardcaptor Sakura, Ouran High School Host Club, and Fruits Basket.

Ana’s favorite musical genre is symphonic metal, introduced to her by her oldest stepbrother Jasper. Her favorite bands are Within Temptation, Evanescence, and Nightwish.

As a teenager, Ana falls in love with the Victorian Gothic and steampunk subcultures, the first of which Jasper dabbles in and the second of which Preston is hard-core into. Being an INFP, she loves the creativity, historical bent, and romanticism in both movements. At the Pinkwood-Read family’s formal Christmas parties, you’ll often see all three of them wearing top hats with their holiday ensembles.

Ana does NOT make friends easily, but once you do become her friend, she’s always got your back. Her BFF is Hufflepuff Robin Isherwood @cursebreakerfarrier. She also gets along pretty well with Gryffindor housemate Lorcan O’Donnell @unfortunate-arrow, Slytherin Jordi Prewett @cursebreakerelmswood, Ravenclaw Noa March @that-ravenpuff-witch and Hufflepuffs Mitch C. Hodge @department-shoe-stud and HG Gray @ljthebard1. They all either call Anastasia “Ana” or “Annie” -- her stepfather and brothers call her “Anya.”

Upon finding out how much her BFF Robin likes flowers and plants, Ana went out of her way to collect some books on the Victorian language of flowers. (Her brother Jasper gave her a hand with finding some good ones.) One Valentine’s Day she even sent Robin a friendship bouquet of irises, goldenrod, oak-leaved geraniums, and southernwood without any sort of note -- not that it was necessary, given that flowers’ message translated to “Just wanted to let you know you’ll always be my best friend.” (Everyone else assumed Robin had this mysterious secret admirer.)

If anyone rubs Ana the wrong way, they can expect a formal dueling challenge. Ana is witty on the page, but not verbally, and she’s upfront and honorable enough when she’s angry to want to “take it outside” and settle the dispute on the dueling field the way a knight would avenge a slight to their king’s honor, rather than be backhanded or sneaky about it.

Ana may be cisgender and identify as straight, but she is the ULTIMATE LGBT+ ally. Even when she was a kid, she would get very hot under the collar about homophobia, racism, or any other sort of prejudice, thanks to her Gryffindor sense of honor and her INFP sensitivity, and after Bonnie married Bradley and Ana met Jasper (who’s transgender FtM himself), Ana became all the more passionate about LGBT+ rights. She only becomes more vocal in her support after some of her friends come out of the closet too.

Ana’s greatest fear is being insignificant. This is depicted in boggart form as the whole room around her suddenly becoming huge, to the point where she’s as tiny and helpless as a mouse.

Ana’s Patronus is a black swan. If she ever became an Animagus, she’d be a large brown and gray tabby cat with oddly colored bluish gray eyes.

I could see Ana one day becoming a well-regarded author of fiction books for young magical children.

#hpma #anastasia read #my art #art #about anastasia #robin isherwood #henrietta gray #jordi prewett #mitch c. hodge #lorcan o'donnell

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queerbutstillhere · 4 years

Note

Hiya!! Wow u still doing amazing prompts? How about a soulmate AU for Jondami? Where Kyptonians feel a "click" once they meet their soulmate and that even if they date someone else they can feel as much love that the feel for their mate.

(Hi! Sorry it took this long! I hope you get to see this! And I hope it is good!)

When he was young, his dad explained it to him. Told him how they, as Kryptonian's would often have "soulmates". Said he wasn't sure if Jon would experience this, since he was only half kryptonian, but it was best to just be prepared.

He explained how there was this click. Why everything seemed off and disfunctional, how it felt like everything was just shifted to the left a bit. Why Jon felt odd, like the world was buzzing at such a low decible that he could just barely hear it. And he told Jon that this may stop one day, or he would just stop noticing it.

It was this way because of their soulmates. And once he met his soulmate, things would just click. Everything would be normal and right again. He would feel the shift. So he needed to pay attention if that happened, watch who he had been with. Clark explained that he could still fall in love with people other then his soulmate, Clark had done it so many times before he met Lois, but it would never quite be as perfect as it would be with his soulmate.

Jon took this very seriously, and from that day as a young child, to an eleven year old when he felt it, he paid great attention to all his interactions.

And then he met Robin.

And his world shifted back into focus.

His meeting with Robin hadn't been fantastic, they had tried to kill each other, multiple times. But Jon couldn't ignore the fact that the first time he touched Robin, he physically felt this snap inside him. A Click. In fact it startled him so much that Robin got the upperhand and would have seriously hurt Jon, had Bruce not stepped in right at that moment.

Jon had been shaken up for days after, and refused to tell his parents why. So they chose to believe Robin had done something to their precious child. And they were furious. But he needed to tell someone, and when his older (yet younger?) brother popped in for his monthly visit, he managed to drag Kon outside.

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong? You're looking a little green. Been exposed to any kryptonite recently?"

Jon shook his head. He did feel a little sick. They were sat on the roof of the barn, staring out over the cow pastures.

"Jon?" Conner asked, joking tone dropped, now just concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor? I can take you to dad if you don't want Clark and Lois to know?"

"No! I'm not... I'm not sick. And why is Lex a better option then Dad?!"

"He does care what I do? Also I thought you liked Lex."

Jon didn't respond, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Kon, did dad explain the soulmates thing to you?"

"Sure did. Why- oh my God, did you? Who is it?! Did you tell them?!"

"Shh!" Jon hissed, glaring at his brother.

Kon immediately sobered, reaching out to wrap an arm around Jon.

"Who is it, Jon? What's the matter?"

"It's... Robin."

Conner blinked at him a few times in confusion.

"The... The demon spawn? Tim's little brother?"

Jon nodded a couple times, pushing his face into his knees.

"... Wow. Okay. That's. Yikes. Didn't he try to kill you?"

Another nod.

Kon gently rubbed his back. "Well. It's okay, Jon. You don't... You're only eleven, you don't have to do anything about it. Maybe- maybe it's best not to tell anyone else? Clark and Lois might-" Kon cut off with a small sigh.

Jon just groaned and pressed his face harder against his legs.

"It's okay," was Kon's comforting mantra as he hugged his small brother for a moment.

And it was.

In the end, Jon practically forgot about it. He grew up, was Damian's partner, became his best friend, hung out with him all through highschool. He almost forgot about the soulmate thing. Except sometimes he'd notice how much sharper his world was when he was with Damian, or how much happier he was around him.

But he fell in love in highschool, had his heart dramatically broken when his girlfriend cheated on him, even spent a whole evening bemoaning his sad life to Damian as they ate vegan ice cream on the roof of the barn, wrapped in fluffy blankets.

He thought he maybe fell for Damian, his senior year of highschool, but Damian was off, traveling abroad, so it was easy to forget, and then he spent his summer after working and barely saw him. And then Jon was off to college, barely saw any of his friends, let alone his best friend who lived in another country at this point, stopped superheroing, just focused solely on college.

It wasn't until his senior year of college that he realized his world had fallen back into disarray, that things were off again.

It wasn't until senior year that he remembered Damian was his soulmate.

He sent Damian a simple text.

-Hey, next time you're in the states, we should hang out. I know it's been a while, but I'd love to catch up!

Two days later, he got a response.

~Hello! Sorry for not responding sooner. I am currently in Gotham, actually, would you like to meet up this weekend?

Well that was easier than anticipated.

-Yeah! Sure, I can come down there if you want? Does Sunday work?

~Yes. You can come for lunch if you wish. It shall be at noon.

-I'll be there :)

So Sunday Jon showered and flew to Gotham, wearing fairly nice clothes. As nice as it got for a college student with an unpaid internship. Okay so it was pretty nice clothes BECAUSE of his internship. He didn't fly much these days, but it wasn't like he forgot how to. He just headed to Gotham and plopped himself on the front step of the manor, taking a moment to sort himself, straighten out the wildly tangled hair, smooth down his burgandy sweater and fix the cuffs of the button down he had on underneath it. And then he rang the doorbell.

It was only a brief wait, and then the door swung open to reveal one of many black haired blue eyed brothers of Damian's. Jon's memory immediately kicked in and reminded him the buff one with the white streak was Jason.

"Hi, Jason!" He said with a grin.

Jason, who had scruff and bags under his eyes and smelled like cigarettes, grunted.

"Welcome back, kid. It's been a while since you've been around."

Jon smiled and shrugged. "Well, I've been busy with school and all that."

Jason shrugged in return and opened the door, letting Jon in

"Do I still need to take my shoes off?" Jon asked, pointing at the pile by the door.

Jason looked at it, then at Jon. "To save the old man's back, we'll say yes. I don't even know anymore."

Jon raised an eyebrow and took off his dress shoes, following Jason further into the house.

"I think Damian's in the kitchen with Alfie."

"Okay. Thanks Jason!"

"Uh-huh."

Jon headed into the kitchen and did indeed find Damian, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he helped Alfred cook. He looked up as he heard the door open, and his eyes widened slightly. Jon felt the same thing happen to him. Because man had Damian grown up. Of course Jon had seen his social media and seen this, but it was completely different to see him in real life, just a few feet away. He was wearing a green sweater, and black slacks, black dress socks on his feet. His olive skin was dark, darker then Damian had ever been while living in Gotham. His black hair was short on the sides and back, and still the same long, fluffy top.

"Jonathan, hello!" Alfred said cheerfully, the elderly man smiled at him.

"Hey, Alfred."

Damian seemed to snap out of his daze, glancing down at the food he was stirring then back up to Jon.

"Hello," he said with a smile. He set down his spoon and washed his hands quickly.

"Hi."

Damian stepped closer. "Has it been too long to get a hug?"

Jon chuckled and stepped into him, wrapping his arms around Damian and hugging him tightly. Damian's arms slipped around his waist and returned it, his chin on Jon's shoulder.

And there it was again. The click. The settling of his universe. The reminder that things were okay and good and right.

"It's good to see you," Damian murmured gently, his eyes closed.

Jon hummed gently. "Yeah. It's been a while."

He didn't want to let go. He felt safe hugging Damian. He felt warm and happy.

Damian started to pull back so he let go and watched Damian head back and return to stirring his food.

"So watcha cooking?"

"Sauteing asparagus, lunch is almost ready. Grandfather, could you go get the others and then get them seated in the dining room?"

"Sure, my boy," Alfred said with a smile and then headed out, walking a little slower then Jon last remembered.

Damian watched him leave, eyes full of concern. Jon was too busy reeling in the fact that his ears weren't buzzing anymore and that things didn't feel slightly blurry.

"He's not moving as good as he used too," Damian commented softly, and then shook his head a bit.

"Anyway. How are you? How is college?" Damian asked, smiling.

"College is good. Was good. I'm almost done now. I've got an internship at an architectural firm."

"Oh. Nice. You were going for interior design, right? Or was it architecture?"

"Architecture."

"That makes sense...."

Jon chuckled, looking around the kitchen which was still the same.

"So you finally gave up on the glasses?"

"What? Oh yeah. I don't do a lot of superboy stuff anymore so no one really recognized me as him... I plan to change my uniform and add a mask here soon though."

"That's smart."

"Do you, um? Do you still do vigilante stuff?"

"Oh, in Europe? Some, but you'd be surprised at the lack of supervillains over there. But yes, I do some over there."

Jon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Can you grab that pan for me?" Damian pointed at a casserole dish.

"Sure!"

Jon grabbed it and followed him out to the dining room. The rest of the family was there, getting seated, fussing over Alfred. Jon ended up following Damian back into the kitchen and helped him carry out a few more dishes that all looked expertly cooked and foreign. And then they sat down and ate. Dinner was great, the Wayne family had fun catching up with Jon. And then after, Jon and Damian went for a walk around the Manor, enjoying the nice spring weather.

Jon knew he needed to tell Damian but he didn't know how. They just walked and lightly chatted and caught up. Finally they reached the gardens and Jon reached out grabbed Damian's hand, pulling him to sit on a bench.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay? What's wrong?" Damian asked, concern filling his face.

Damian showed emotions so much more freely know. Jon had known him for over 10 years now, so this was kinda surprising.

"There's this. . . " He sighed.

Then he stood and started pacing.

"Kryptonian's have this thing. . . They have soulmates," he started explaining, not looking at Damian. "We can feel when we meet our soulmates, it's like this click when we first touch them and-"

"Oh," Damian said. "Interesting. Is there any changes after?"

"After? After the click? Yeah, before, things feel off and for me there's like this buzzing noise. After things just felt more clear and like the world is more focused."

"Interesting."

"Damian. Damian there's a reason I'm telling you this," Jon said, turning to him.

"Why-"

"Because the first time I touched you thirteen years ago, I felt that click."

Damian blinked.

"And when I hugged you again today, I felt the click again."

"Oh," Damian said softly.

"Yeah.... I'm sorry for throwing this on you, but I had to tell you. And we can still fall in love, outside of our soulmate, but things will always feel off."

Damian wasn't responding, just nodding slightly. Jon went silent, crossing his muscular arms and watching him cautiously.

"Well."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry. Should I go? I should go. I'll let you think about it-"

"Jon, wait!" Damian exclaimed, standing.

Jon had already been flying, so he stopped, blinking.

"Thank you, for telling me. And especially thank you for not telling me earlier, when we were younger. I would not have known how to take it and I undoubtedly would have run away from you."

Jon smiled softly, touching back down to the ground.

"And I'm sorry, for being a horrible friend back then."

"It's okay, Damian. You weren't as bad as you seem to think."

Damian just shook his head slightly. He stepped forwards and hugged Jon again.

"Give me a little time to process this, okay? I'm not going to run away."

"Okay."

Jon smiled to himself as he hugged Damian for a minute, as he felt that warmth and safety.

And then he stepped back. "It was good to see you, Damian."

"You too, Jon."

They waved to each other and then Jon took off up into the air, heading back home.

A few days later he got another text from Damian.

~ I think I'm going to be in the states for a while.

- Yeah? That's cool! I'm sure your family will be happy to hear that.

~ yes. They were.

~ Would you like to get dinner sometime? So we can talk.

- That would be amazing.

~ Thursday?

- Sure, around seven? I can come down there if we push it to 7:30.

~ No, I'll come to you, so seven is fine. Send me your address and I'll pick you up. Dress nicely, business casual.

- Okay, I'll see you then :)

Three weeks later, they were dating.

Send me prompts!

#damian wayne #jon kent #damijon fics #damijon #damianxjon #soulmate #soulmate au #soulmates #prompt ask #prompt #give me prompts and shiz #writing prompt #ask me #send me asks #ask me anything #thanks for the ask!#queerbutstillhere #queerbutstillhere writes

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elsb-hrngtons · 4 years

Text

A Wonderful Day at Pride

Thank you @opaldraws for your prompt of Robin/ Heather/ Carol at pride

for Harringrove for BLM, i went a bit over 1k but i really hope you like it :)

Read here on Ao3

There’s a bizarre thrum of electricity running through Robin’s body right now, a healthy mix of anxiety and anticipation, butterflies that have morphed and mutated into something more akin to angry wasps that refuse to settle in the pit of her stomach. She assesses her reflection one last time, knowing that if she takes even a minute longer Carol and Heather are likely to crash through the bathroom door and drag her out. She worries her lip and stains her teeth with a frankly unnecessary shade of pink lipstick that Carol insisted she wear for the occasion, admires the way the glitter she was attacked with moments ago shimmers in the fluorescent lighting of the hotel bathroom, the hotel bathroom in downtown Chicago, the one Steve insisted on paying for. Taking a few steadying breaths she readies herself, its now or never , and unlocks the bathroom door.

In their hotel room Heather and Carol are lounged on the huge king bed, hair and make up immaculate as always, outfits hugging them in all the right places that make Robin’s mouth water, she can’t believe how many times she’s almost lost her nerve, almost never made it here at all, and now she’s gazing over the stunning pieces of art that are her girlfriends and knows, no matter how scared she is, having the two of them to hold her hand makes the angry wasps of anxiety worth it.

Robin has never been to a Pride march before, wasn’t even really aware they were a thing, not until she started feeling more comfortable with herself, comfortable enough to admit who she is, who she loves to herself. And of course once she started admitting it to herself, it became a little easier to tell the people she really cared about too. Steve was the first one to draw her attention to Pride and what it is, subtly suggesting maybe she should go, offering to go with her for moral support, although Robin knows it was a little bit for himself too. But then the girls got wind of Robin’s desire to go, and as unsure as she was about it, they sensed this was really important to her, sensed it was Robin’s next emotional stepping stone into really accepting who she was, and well that was all the motivation they needed to organise the whole thing with the help of Steve’s wallet, to ensure it was the best possible experience Robin could hope for.

They make it to the parade, follow the endless crush of bodies all adorned in colourful flags, ostentatious outfits and enough glitter and body paint to make the Las Vegas strip look dull. Carol pushes her way through the crowd, gripping Robin’s and Heather’s hands in a vice like grip until they reach the front, Robin takes in her surroundings with wide eyes and a childlike wonder, drinks in the atmosphere of hundreds if not thousands of like minded people, all congregated in one place to celebrate, to celebrate their love, celebrate themselves, it’s invigorating, inspiring and as the afternoon goes on Robin begins to buzz with a newfound confidence she never had before. For the first time in Robin’s entire existence she feels free, has been dragged directly into the light after a lifetime in the shadows, and she loves it, is addicted to it.

With her new sense of assuredness she turns to her side where Heather is leaning into Carol, eye’s fixated on the crowd just as in awe as Robin, she brushes her hand gently up and down Heather's bare arm until Heather turns to look at her with a soft and adoring smile on her face. Robin can feel her affection brim over the edge, she’s overcome by it, overwhelmed as she grabs Heather by the face with both hands and kisses her in public for the first time ever, feels Heather melt into the kiss which helps her own tensions, her own anxieties wash away, distantly she can hear cheers and whoops from the crowd, and a small part of her hopes they’re for her. She does the same for Carol when she feels the warmth of Carol’s fingers brush against her shoulder, feels the tickle of her hair as she rests her forehead against Heather’s back hugging her behind, as Heather steps aside she has to bend at the knees and Carol has to stand on her tiptoes so one another lips can meet, gets swept away in the adrenaline of the kiss, of the crowd and hooks her hands underneath Carol’s knees and lifts, makes room so Carol can wrap her legs around Robin’s waist as the kiss deepens and gets more intense. Robin’s never felt more in love, with her girls, with herself, with the world.

The parade dies down, but the party doesn’t the masses of people all keyed up on life and various other substances are raring to continue into the small hours, and the girls are right there with them, Robin has never really been a party girl, but on this occasion she doesn’t want the party to ever end, wishes every day could be like this, is enthusiastic as Carol suggests they follow a couple of revellers they met in the crowd to some party in downtown Chicago, doesn’t question it just lets herself get carried away with excitement.

They find themselves in some kind of abandoned building, practically an empty shell except for the support beams and windows, the whole place is decked out in rainbow memorabilia and twinkling fairy lights, there’s a pop up bar over on one side and a DJ set up on the other. A huge crowd gathers in the middle a mass of sweaty bodies all slammed close together grinding and gyrating their hips, same sex couples everywhere always practically one step away from fucking right there on the dance floor, some men have given in to the relenting heat and have removed their shirts, women have removed as much clothing as their comfortable with, some evidently more comfortable with showing off their superb bodies than others, Heather and Carol practically have to pick Robin’s jaw up off the floor.

The party’s fun, they spend the night dancing amongst the throng of strangers, strangers who have all become friends for a day, the girls keep plying Robin with more and more alcohol and the more she drinks the looser she gets, the more relaxed, she’s giggly and touchy feely, can’t help the way her hands itch to touch the soft skin of her lovers, gow her body somehow knows the environment she’s in to be able to freely touch and show affection to the women she loves, to pepper them with kisses and whisper sweet nothings into their ears when she envelops them into her arms. But the nights over just as it feels like its beginning when the cops raid the place, at first Robin doesn’t really understand but then figures they were serving alcohol pretty freely this evening and Carol, Heather and herself can’t be the only minors present tonight.

They manage to escape the chaos, narrowly miss getting caught as they run hand in hand down the streets of Chicago back to their hotel, all giggling, all amped up on adrenaline. The journey back takes twice as long as it should, each girl taking turns in asserting their dominance dragging the others into quiet alcoves or pushing them against walls just to get their hands and lips on each other, it strikes Robin for the first time since the day began that this is everything she’s ever wanted, to be able to display her love for the whole world to see, just like normal couples, she doesn’t ever want to return to the cold shadows of her past, doesn’t want to hide who she is anymore.

As they get back to their room Robin flops on the bed utterly exhausted and still riding her high, Carol kicks her shoes off and crawls up the bed next to her, rests her head on Robin’s breast and sighs, Heather isn’t far behind.

“Did you enjoy yourself today Birdie?” Carol asks as she traces circles across Robin’s stomach.

“Yeah i really did”

“Me too” Heather chirps as she plays with Robin’s hair.

“I love you both so much, thank you for today” Robin says not for the first time that evening.

“Aww we love you too baby” Heather smiles as she leans up to kiss Robin’s cheek

“You’re both okay i guess” Carol smirks

“Carol!” Heather squeals

“Kidding. I love you both too”

Robin lies there holding her two girls tightly and listens as both their breathing evens out, too wired to fall asleep but content to just exist in this room, soothed by the feeling of their heart beats steady in their chests and the sounds of the city playing as the backing track to her whirlwind of thoughts. She sighs happily and thinks to herself, best day ever.

#Harringrove for BLM #opaldraws #Keg Girls #Keg gang #Robin x Heather x Carol #Robin Buckley #Heather Holloway #Carol Perkins

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itsfalloutgirl · 4 years

Text

Birds- Tenry/ Teddison Fic

Once, there was a woman that Teddy Altman loved, and was taken away from her. There was a man that she loved and lost too, but not before she had a chance to share her most secret story with him. Tenry/ Teddison. Teddy loved Henry so I decided to remember him, even though canon certainly won't.

Set right after Put Me In, Coach (season 8 episode 7). Rating is MT. Hope you enjoy!

read on ff.net- here read on AO3- here

*******

It is funny how liquor can give you courage.

Teddy knows she is not suddenly braver than she had been just a few hours ago, but she had had a few too many sips from the flask Grey brought to the field, and the substance (tequila, if she can guess, knowing the resident’s drink of choice) has worked like a magical drug.

She is not drunk, just a little light-headed, and she is smiling into the kiss as Henry’s fingertips strike her lower back gently beneath her blue baseball jersey shirt.

She has been meaning to tell him for a while now, meaning to poke around the one wound that never really healed properly, and as a doctor, she thinks never will. She never found the right time until today, the words almost rolling off of her tongue but then stopping just by her lips. Yet something about this night, this moment, feels somewhat final, and she is afraid that if she won’t speak tonight he will never know her story.

So she takes a deep breath and all the boldness she can master before breaking the kiss and whispering “Henry”.

He hums in response to hearing his own name, his eyes still close and his forehead leaning against hers, and she can feel him trying to catch his breath.

“There is something I need to tell you.” She opens her eyes as she feels the hand on her back stills and his warm body drifting just slightly away.

Teddy can see every thought that courses through her husband’s mind in his deep green eyes. He is afraid that their happy little marriage bubble has finally popped, and that something horrible is on its way, something that might break them.

“Is everything OK?” He asks, trying to hide the little tremor in his voice, in a manner of a man who is used to getting more bad news than good ones.

“Every single thing is perfect.” Teddy reassures him, as she wraps her arms around his neck and her fingers slide into the hair on the back of his head. “There is something I need to share with you, and I am afraid that if I won’t say it now, I might keep it inside of me for the rest of my life.”

Henry nods, before interlacing their fingers and sitting on the couch behind him.

“Not here” She whispers, pulling him up from the sofa. “Bedroom,” she orders “and take these off of us, slowly, please.” For some unknown reason, the idea of being naked as she unravels her truth makes her feel slightly more comfortable, like if they are both physically vulnerable , it will make her feel just a bit safer as she tells him the story she had never told to a living soul before.

The surgeon closes her eyes as her husband does exactly as she asked him to. He guides her to their bedroom, where he slowly puts her down on the bed, as if she was some kind of a delicate princess. Their shoes and coats were already long gone, abandoned somewhere near the door of their brand new apartment, yet he takes his sweet time getting her undressed, and if she hadn't been the one asking him to do exactly so, she would have called it agonizing.

First goes their shirts, then their pants and underwear, until they are both left lying in that bed, naked as the day they were born, nothing but their own skins between them, two souls wandering, clinging, desperate to be one.

He lies half on top of her, his head rested on her naked abdomen, and with every breath she takes she feels the weight of him grounding her, reassuring her that she is safe and loved in a world that has been so lonely and cruel to her for so many years.

Her hands start to wander down Henry’s body, and it is easier for her than to start speaking, for she knows that in the moment she will reopen that old scar, her blood will start shedding out of it.

“Teddy” there’s somewhat a warning to his voice. “If you want to talk before we do anything else, you need to keep those hands to yourself, otherwise we will do a lot of things that don’t involve much talking.” She smiles, as if she was a kid getting scolded for stealing a candy from the grocery store.

She feels his weight lifting off of her, then she hears him say “Come here” as he leans against the headboard.

Now her head is resetting on his chest, as he coaxes her “ Please, tell me what is troubling that genius mind of yours. Whatever it is, I promise you I can handle it.”

She feels his hands on her lower back again, painting an unknown pattern, and she frowns as she inquires “How is that a fair game? I wasn’t allowed to touch you but you get to have your way with me?”

“Because I want to make sure that you know I am here, holding you, no matter what.”

They lie there, in their little silent bubble, for what feels like a small forever, before she finds it in herself to talk about the best and the worst time of her life.

“Birds.” Teddy says softly, and a small smile is spreading across her face as the first tear rolls down her cheek. “That was the first thing I noticed when I first met Allison Robin Brown. I was looking down at a map as I was crossing the bicycle lane, and she was riding her bike, it was a too hot for the season fall day in 1998. I don’t even remember why I needed the map, I am a New York born and raised.”

The tears are rolling down her face now, full steam ahead, and there is no trace left of that smile that appeared just a minute ago. She knows he can feel her tears on his body, so she props herself up on her elbows, looking deep into those loving green eyes, and she prays silently that he will continue to look at her the same way after she is done with her story. That he will still see her the same way he always did, ever since the moment they met in the surgical wing elevator.

“I looked up and said ‘get those birds out of my way, Pollyanna’ and then I noticed the army boots she was wearing and her floral dress. A frown that turned into a smile as our glances met, a set of big brown eyes and a head full of curly, messy hair. And I have never felt that way before when I looked at someone for the first time. It was like I was punched straight in the stomach, like someone physically robbed the air out of my lounges.”

“This was the moment I fell in love with her, yet it took me so long to admit that to myself. And there hasn’t been a day since that I haven't thought, what would have happened if I had let myself love her, fully, unapologetically, just a day earlier.”

She goes silent then, and when she looks at him, she figures she had done it once more. This gorgeous man, lying naked in her bed, had fallen in love with her the moment he laid eyes on her, and it took her so long to admit to herself, and to him, that she had fallen for him too.

Yet he says nothing, gives her the so needed breathing room, because they both know tonight is not about their relationship, but about a relationship left buried in the ashes of a national tragedy. “I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. And when she asked me to move in with her and her girlfriend, Clair, just a few days later, I couldn’t bring myself to say no, even though there was a little green monster raising its ugly head inside of me every time I saw them acting like a couple.”

“So I pushed that emotion down, and I convinced myself that we were just best friends, and that I thought Clair was just not good enough for her. That was obviously the furthest thing away from the truth. Clair was a surgeon, just like me, and she was kind and funny. Practically the perfect girlfriend.”

She goes silent again, just for a minute. It's not like she has to recall those events, she remembers them as vividly as if they had happened just yesterday, and probably will remember them long after she forgets her own name.

She has met her fair share of people who lost their loved ones. She lost her own two parents, and she knows that memories of people you loved and lost fade. The sound of their voice, their smell, the color of their eyes. Time heals and earases. But not when it comes to Allison, never when it comes to Allison. Her regrets will never let her forget, even though forgetness might have numbed the pain pressing down on her chest, every minute of every hour of every day of every year since she had been taken away from her.

Henry gives her an encouraging nod, and she continues. “Until one night I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I was jealous. And not just jealous of them having the perfect relationship while I was single. I was jealous of Clair going to sleep every night and waking up every morning in the bed of the woman I love. Clair was pulling an all nighter at the hospital that night, and I had to down two glasses of wine before gathering the courage to talk to my best friend, if you can believe that.”

Teddy smiles, then she feels the salty taste of her own tears in her mouth.

“I was the one going to sleep in Allison’s arms that night, and when we were lying there in her bed after we had sex for the first time… The only equivalent I can think about to that feeling would be using heroine, or something of that sort. So for a long time after, I lied to myself it was just the rush of sneaking behind everyone’s backs, the rush of exploring my sexuallity, the rush I felt when she did all those things to my body I didn’t even know were possible. I was so good at self manipulating at that time that I almost had myself fooled. I never managed to get Allison to believe me though, and she had never pushed. She would whisper into my ear that she loved me, but I couldn’t admit just how much I loved her back, not out loud and not even to myself.”

“Because you see, Henry, my love for you is like a ship finally finding a harbor. You are my safe haven. You make me so happy, and you make me feel secure and content. And I love you, with all of my heart and all of my soul. But when I finally let everything that kept me chained go, and let myself really fall in love with Allison, I finally understood why they call it falling in love. I felt, and still feel my love for her with my whole body. I feel my love for her in every one of my 206 bones. It physically hurts, even as she was still alive.

“Loving Allison Robbin Brown was a constant rush of adrenaline in my veins. I loved her to such an extreme, that I felt as if I was facing death everyday, and everyday I was winning. It felt like a stream of electricity rushing through my veins every time I was around her. I have never loved anyone, man or a woman, to such extent, never before, and never ever since. We had this pillowtalk, on September 10th 2001, and we promised ourselves that we would tell Clair the next day, and that we will start a life of our own, together. And on September 11th, 2001, I went to the hospital, and she went to work at the south tower. And it was a perfectly normal day, until it wasn’t anymore. What’s funny, you know, is that I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. I had to get into the hospital early in that morning, and I didn’t want to wake her up and rob whatever was left of her sleeping hours.”

She notices her husband cries with her right now, big fat tears rolling down his eyes, and she loves him for that. She loves him for feeling everything so deeply, exactly as she does.

“I’m sorry.” He says, rubbing the tears away from his face with the back of his hands.

“Don’t be.” She pushes herself up his body, and places a soft kiss on Henry’s lips. “I want you to promise me you will never be sorry for whatever it is you are feeling.” She raises a brow, and waits for him to say the words she wants to hear.

“I promise.” He says, and she notices he still cries as she slides down the bed back to her place.

“So when the city heard that loud and awful noise of the metal and concrete monster finally giving in at 9:59 AM on that Tuesday, I felt my heart giving in with it. I felt numb, but at the very same time I felt everything. Sad and confused, and so angry I saw the world in a fire-like shade of red. And when I realized I will never see her again, I was ready to go and be with her. I was ready to take my own life, and some of me is still there. I left a part of myself in that crappy New York City apartment, standing in front of the sink, sleeping pills that I stole from the hospital in my hand, ready to join the love of my life. I never took a single pill.”

“Suddenly, I had this crazy idea. I had to stay alive and avenge Allison’s death in the best way I could think of.I went and enlisted, and I was on my way to training the next day. I didn’t even stick around to attend her funeral. I never looked back, and I promised myself that I would never step foot in the city that was supposed to be my home, but failed me so badly and took the person I loved the most, the city that robbed me from everything I had.”

Teddy climbs up the bed again, and presses her lips to Henry’s. “I carried the weight of this story alone for ten years, and on some days, it felt like I was carrying the weight of the whole entire world on my shoulders. Until today. Thank you for listening, and loving me for who I am.”

She kisses him again, a bit more fire this time. He places a hand on her shoulder to push her back, just a little bit, just enough to allow him to talk. “You made me promise I would stop apologizing, so I just say thank you. Thank you for trusting me enough to share this story. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you.”

“Henry” she sobs. “Can you please make me feel something else other than the paralyzing pain in my chest?”

He nods, and then wraps her in his arms.

They both cry as they make love that night, and if a different name slips out of her lips as she comes, the name of a woman she loves, forever frozen in time, well, he doesn’t say a thing about it, and neither does she.

#grey's anatomy #teddy altman #henry burton #allison brown #grey's anatomy fanfic #teddison #tenry #tenry fic #teddy x henry #teddy x allison #my fics #angst #hurt and comfort

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

What now? (p3)

where they finally establish a routine.

Neil watched with forcefully detached disdain as Robin showed Kevin the ropes of Exy: His reluctance grew as he watched Kevin catch on straight away. Then he realised that:

a) Kevin was an incredibly quick learner, and

b) Kevin was thoroughly enjoying himself.

That meant he was most likely going to join the team. Neil stood behind the plexiglass and waited with his fingers strung together behind his head, waiting for the kids to scramble off court for a break.

He didn’t truly have anything against Kevin. It was just the idea of being forced to encounter Andrew Minyard multiple times a week and consequently being driven up the wall.

Some of the kids’ parents were hellish to deal with, yes. But none blatantly voiced their dislike of Neil, or looked at him like he’d be fun to run over.

It was between seasons: He usually did team reviews so that new kids could try out and get onto the waiting lists for the fall season next September: Then he’d form a team of those new-comers to practise together throughout the spring season, occasionally versing his league teams as practise. Right now, he was watching a bunch of kids scrimmage and cause an absolute ruckus of themselves: He always let them have a free-for-all at the end of tryouts, to work off the stress and anxiety that being tested always granted.

Parents were no longer watching avidly in the stands, instead, mingling with one another.

Neil bashed his fist against the plexiglass, waving them off the court. They filed off sullenly, packing up their things and saying goodbye to one another as they sipped on water bottles and snacked on fruits and granola bars.

Robin sidled up to him, smiling through her exhaustion. “So?”

“What.” He said, flatly.

“Can he join?” She pointed to Kevin. “He’s very good. He’s going to be better than me. Because he’s taller. I think.” She frowned.

He frowned. “He can join, if he’d like to.”

“My team?” She bounced excitedly.

He looked at her with veiled exasperation. No, he’d say for the millionth time. Teams were divided up into ages, but Robin was in 1sts, and Kevin would be placed into the newcomer’s team for the next fall season.

“Kevin! Kevin! Neil says you can join.” Robin waved the young boy over, who was aimlessly pushing hair out of his eyes as he untied his shoes. He looked up, sheepish, as he shuffled over. He’d be taller than Neil in the next few years. That wasn’t surprising: Most kids in Neil’s older teams were taller than him.

“I’d like to.” Kevin said. “But I don’t think Dad will let me.”

Neil frowned. “Why?”

“He doesn’t like you.” Kevin pouted. “Because apparently you’re an idiot.”

Neil glowered. “Is he picking you up tonight, Kevin?”

Kevin nodded.

That’s how Neil found himself marching over to Andrew Minyard’s sleek, black sport’s car, rapping harshly on the tinted glass with Kevin cowering a few feet away, and an angry little Robin at Neil’s elbow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The sarcastic drawl of Andrew’s voice made the hair at the back Neil’s neck stand. He felt his fingers curl against the smooth leather, hoping that his fingers scratched the stupid car and left some sort of mark on the arrogant bastard’s materialistic pride and joy.

“Whatever problem you have with me,” Neil snapped. “It’s entirely unjust to not let Kevin join the activity he wants to because of it. Grow up, pull your head out of your ass, and think about what’s the best for your child.”

Andrew gazed at him coldly and said nothing. Kevin scrambled into his father’s car, curled into the corner furthest from Neil, behind his dad.

Neil stood back, letting Andrew wind up the window. He watched as the car left.

“Will he let Kevin join the team?” Robin worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. Neil took her tiny hand in his own.

“I don’t know, Robin.” He said truthfully.

It had Andrew frothing with anger. How dare he tell Andrew what was best for his own damned kid. Like he was a better parent than Andrew, like he had more experience, like he wasn’t just as fucked up and terrified of making his own kid’s childhood hellish and continuing the cycle of abuse.

Andrew had never forbade Kevin from playing exy in the first place!

Asshole. Fuck him. Fuck him!

“Andrew, seriously. Just fuck him.” Nicky examined his nails, tutting at how he’d already chipped his manicure. “Your anger is clearly just pent-up sexual tension. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Gross.” Aaron complained through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Fuck you.” Andrew grumbled, sinking lower into his chair. It was Tuesday night, Family night, where Aaron left his white-picket-fence and perfect wife, and Nicky spent his night off. They usually did it at Nicky’s apartment, but he was in the middle of packing up to move into his boyfriend’s apartment.

Kevin was fast-asleep upstairs, having worn himself out playing that stupid sport. It might be good for him to join a team sport, Andrew considered. It would also mean he’d go to sleep easier, if he was tired. There was nothing stopping him from joining the team, except maybe Andrew had made his opinion of Neil Josten too obvious, and then Kevin had gone talking, and now he had Neil-Too-Hot-For-His-Own-Fucking-Good-Josten barking up his ass about parenting.

Fucking hell.

“He does sound like a massive asshole, though.” Nicky winked at him. “Though I’m not the one attracted to smart-mouths.”

“Fuck off, Nicky.”

“I’m trying to watch the game, here.” Aaron said, only mildly irritated. “Nicky, shut your damned mouth. Andrew, stop being such a hypocrite. Kevin, are you okay?”

Andrew shot up to look at his son, who had covertly snuck down the stairs from his room. He had a small fox plushie in his arms, his hair a wild mess. Andrew would need to cut it again soon.

“Sorry, Dad.” He curled his shoulders in. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Andrew stood immediately, ignoring Nicky as he stage whispered “God, I still can’t get over how cute that is.” He took Kevin into the kitchen and sat him on a barstool, getting cocoa out of the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Luckily, Kevin liked no sugar in his, so it wouldn’t keep him up any longer than necessary.

“Nightmare?”

Kevin shook his head.

Andrew leaned onto the counter opposite him. “Kevin, is this about Robin Josten’s father?”

“Why don’t you like him?” Kevin burst out. “I really want to play exy, and I know that there are other teams than Robin’s team, but I liked playing with Robin, and there are other kids from school on the team, but you don’t like him, so -”

“Kevin.” Andrew said, calmly. “You can join Robin’s team. I would never stop you from doing so. It’s the most localised team anyway, and they’re very good.”

“But why don’t you like Coach Josten?” Coach Josten, oh my god. Andrew had a sudden, inappropriate mental image of Neil Josten in small running shorts and a low-cut tank top. Jesus Christ.

“When you and Robin were fighting at school, her father and I weren’t very friendly to one another.” Andrew put his entwined hands under his chin. “I just wanted to protect you from someone who was being mean to you. But if you and Robin are friends, I’ll try and get along with her father for you.”

Kevin sipped on his hot cocoa. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Andrew stood up. “Okay. Good. Did Robin’s father say how to apply for the team?”

“His name is Neil.” Kevin supplied, unhelpfully.

“Right.” Andrew said, drily. “Fantastic.”

So much for avoiding the fucker.

The South Carolina Exy League, who had ordained Neil as the Exy junior’s coach, owned Columbia’s court and had provided him with a small office on the second floor of the facility. It was a really nice court, which was well-kept, the expenditures mostly from the adult’s league. Neil’s office was just as well-kept, though that was out of his own pocket. It meant the funds for the kids’ teams could be kept to the minimum, so he didn’t mind.

Usually people knocked at his door when it was closed, so when the door banged open, Neil was already expecting the worst.

Andrew threw the application papers onto Neil’s desk. The suit blazer was tight across broad shoulders, and everything about him screamed expensive, down to the shine of his shoes. He must have presented in court.

“Fuck my son around and I’ll kill you.” Andrew warned. “Don’t tell me how to fucking parent, either.”

Neil huffed. “Fabulous impression that you’re giving off here.”

He pointed at Neil. “Don’t test me.” The door slammed behind him.

Well. That was that.

lmao what a mess

#single parent au #dad!andrew #dad!neil #kid!kevin #kid!robin #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #aftg #jem writes

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chaoticquips · 5 years

Text

Wrapped Up

A reminder that @linklyshow is a wonderful person! An angel, best boy.

Continuation to my Coraline AU, although this is more like the end of the movie whoops!

The door slams shut behind him. He’s too busy trying to catch his breath and slow down the mounting panic to really revel in the cold draft that washes over his back.

It’s all normal again. No magic, no bugs, no sand filled needle creatures trying to grab at him-

It’s over.

When he moves, there’s a slight sting to his thigh. Grazes left from their fingers-

He pulls off his- Robin’s -glove and tucks the door key inside with shaking fingers. A wave of relief comes in and settles in his stomach as nausea. Numbly, he slides down against the wall until he’s slumped against it.

He almost... died in there. In a little door in a little house in the middle of no where with no one to even realize he was gone.

Shaky breath in. Shaky breath out. Repeat. He grips the glove tightly, feeling the outline of the key on his palm. It helps a little bit, reminding him of-

The front door opens. Wally scrambles to his feet in what can only be enthusiastic relief.

“Mom! Dad! Oh my god, I missed you so much!” With tear-filled eyes, he barrels into them. Hugs them tightly and breaths in that wonderful, parental smell of home. They’re home.

“Whoa! Slow down there, kiddo, you act like you haven’t seen us in ages!”

That’s... that’s not...

Eyes wide, he whips his head up to see none other than-

“Uncle Barry?!”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Iris laughs at his side. She smooths a hand over his wild hair and Wally realizes what a mess he looks.

And that he’s still clinging to them like a life line.

He quickly lets go, sniffling. “S-Sorry! What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, your parents wanted us to come see the new place, get our opinion on it since, well...” Barry rubs the back of his head.

“You seemed lonely, all by yourself.” Iris cuts in, giving him that soft smile of hers that makes his chest feel a little too tight. A little too loved. “Sometimes new environments can be hard to settle into, it’s easier to have some sort of familiarity around, right?”

“What better familiarity than family, right kiddo?” Barry ruffles his hair and Wally chokes back a laugh that almost shoots out of his mouth like a sob.

“But it looks like you’ve been adjusting fine?” Iris says, shaking off her coat to hang on the rack next to the door. “Look at you, all dirtied up! What have you been up to today, Wally? Hopefully nothing too dangerous?” She shoots Barry that secret little look she sometimes does that makes him all nervous.

“What’s the look for, hun?”

“Oh, you know.”

Wally feels the weight on his chest disappear. A laugh trickles out as he takes their- warm, soft, real -hands and leads them into the house.

“There’s a garden outside, you wanna see it?”

“Sure! Let’s get you cleaned up first so your mother doesn’t have a fit.”

“Iris, we’re heading outside, he’s going to get dirty anyway-”

“Barry. Need I remind you of the dog incident?”

“I’ll shut up now.”

He can’t stop the smile on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Gah!” At the sudden voice, Wally falls backwards and drops in the deep pit he had just climbed out of.

“Oh, shi- shoot! I’m so sorry!” Hands suddenly pulling him up, too quickly too quickly, the world spinning as Wally rubs the winded feeling out of his chest. Taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, sitting up against the stone wall, he feels hands on his shoulders.

When he opens his eyes, he glares.

“Oh, you.”

“Uh, yeah. Me.” Robin says nervously. He’s wringing his hands together and actually looks a little... guilty? Wally sighs.

“Whaddya want now, gonna make fun of me again?” Wally moves to stand up but is swiftly pushed back down by Robin’s surprisingly firm hands.

“No!”

Rather than the firm, chunky feeling of Robin’s coat sleeves going over his palms, Wally realizes he’s looking for the soft feeling of gloves. He’s looking for warm, soft blue moonlight on a rooftop where he was taken off guard by someone surprisingly kind to him.

His face tingles where the Other Robin had...kissed him.

To push back the rising embarrassment and incoming blush, he immediately tries to focus on the stupidbutreallykindacute way this Robin styles his hair.

God dammit.

“I.. I wanted to apologize, for calling you weird.” Robin moves from a crouched position over Wally’s lap to sit with a hard thump on the ground in front of him. “I shouldn’t have said that, I really shouldn’t have. It’s just...” He sighs.

“I dunno, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” Wally snorts.

“You don’t say?”

“Shut up.” He whines out, nudging at Wally with his foot. “Point is, I said some stupid stuff I shouldn’t have about you and I feel bad. I thought you were like the other kids.” He’s hunched over himself, taking off his glasses for once and rubbing at his eyes.

Curiosity at what the weird kid who’s been harassing him all summer actually looks like strikes Wally like a harpoon. But he’s still kinda pissed, so he looks at Robin’s shoes instead before he sees anything.

... Jesus, those are some expensive shoes.

“What other kids?”

“The ones I go to school with. They... they say shit about me all the time and I didn’t realize you were just joking around. Defensive measures and all that.” He shrugs, voice muffled by his coat sleeves.

“Doesn’t make it all right though.” Wally says.

“Yeah, I know. It really doesn’t. Trust me, I’ve been beating myself up about this.” With a half hearted chuckle, Robin lifts up his left, bandaged hand away from his face, but stays hunched over.

“Wha- literally? Dude, what-”

“L-Like I said, I’m beating myself up about it and now I’m getting yelled at for doing that, so I’m apologizing.” Robin cuts in. A hot flash of sadness and anger rips through Wally.

“... So you’re just apologizing to me so you wont be in trouble anymore? If that’s all, fine, you’re forgiven, now go-”

“God dammit, no! I don’t want-!” Robin’s voice cracks as he slams his bandaged fist on the ground. “I don’t- I didn’t mean! Look, I’m trying to apologize!”

“Yeah, and you’re really bad at it!”

“I know!” He yells out.

“I mean, most people would have the decency to look me in the face if they were going to apologize-”

“I know, but I-!” Suddenly he stops. Wally watches the anger flow out of his body and hears him take a deep breath.

“You’re frustrating as hell, you know that right?” He says quietly to his expensive shoes.

“Hey man,-”

“Let’s start over!” He yells, pouncing forward and covering Wally’s eyes with his hands before he sees his face.

“Wha- dude! What the hell!” Wally reaches up and grabs at his hands, pulling them off. Belatedly he remembers the other boy is stronger than he looks. He doesn’t get far until his head nearly hits the wall behind him with the force of the other boy’s hands returning to his face.

“Let’s start over! First impressions are everything, right? We just got off on the wrong foot.”

“A few dozen times.” Wally mumbles.

“Just-!” Robin stops and sighs. “...Do you think we could be friends? If we actually tried this time? I wont call you weird, you don’t call me weird, no arguing unless it’s banter because it’s actually kinda fun with you.”

“Mm, I didn’t know friendships had rules.”

“Less rules, more like guidelines. A, what do people call it? A bro-code?” It’s the most anyone has ever tried with Wally before. He honestly feels a little touched his creepy neighbor is trying so hard.

“I... I think I can work with that. Y’know, considering how desperately you wanna be friends with me.”

“Oh shut up!” He can’t help but laugh at Robin’s expense and he’s pleasantly surprised to find the other boy laughing too.

“God, you’re a mess.” Robin laughs out.

“Me?!”

“Yes!” It takes them a second to calm down, but finally Robin’s hands pull off his face ever so slightly.

“I...I’m gonna take my hands off, ok? Then we can start over.”

“Dude, why are you nervous? You’re not horribly disfigured or something like that, right? Like, I don’t care if you are, it’s totally fine, just-”

Robin takes his hands off Wally’s face and gives him a smile so blinding he can’t tell if it’s the sun or not.

Wait, no, it’s definitely the sun. He had his eyes closed for too long.

“...So?”

“So what? I can’t see anything man, gimmie a second.” He rubs at his eyes while Robin stays strangely quiet. Then he clears his throat.

“Hi! You must be Wally West, right? I believe you’re renting one of the rooms in the Pink Palace, right? I’m the son of your landlord, Dick. It’s nice to meet you!”

When Wally opens his eyes, he almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

Dick Grayson, acclaimed child prodigy and adopted son to billionaire Bruce Wayne, is sitting in front of him.

Directly in the dirt he had dug up for the tulips he had been planting.

When Wally just stares at Dick, his smile shrinks and he moves to pick at his bandages. He averts his eyes from Wally.

“I-I heard you were into science, right? That’s partially why you moved here, so you could go to the academy on scholarship? Or was it to take special summer classes? That’s pretty cool either way.”

“You’re-”

“I’m more of a math guy myself, y’know? And, uh, acrobatics but you probably already knew that.”

More silence.

“...Would you like me to grab you water or something? You look kinda pale-”

“You’re telling me,” Wally cuts him off, “That the creepy little shit who kept waking me up in the middle of the night to knock on my bedroom window, who stalked me for most of the summer, and almost got me killed is none other than the Dick Grayson.”

“Um. I resent the creepy part and... yes?” Wally takes a deep breath.

“Hoooooly shit.” Wally rubs his face with his hands because, wow. Didn’t see that one coming.

“But you get now, why I had to-”

“Hide your identity and be a total weirdo? Yup. It’s all coming full circle.” He makes a little circle in the air with his finger and Dick punches him gently.

“Hey!”

“Unbelievable. That’s... good God, I’m friends with a celebrity.”

“Don’t go telling the world, ok? Mostly because people are, y’know.”

“Nah man, my lips are sealed. Besides, you said it yourself, who would I tell?”

“...”

“...Too soon?” Dick gives him a half smile and helps him to his feet.

“So, uh, what did you mean when you said I almost got you killed?” Wally snorts.

“That is a long story that I’m 100% sure you’re not gonna believe.” Dick does his little half smile again and Wally decides that he thinks it’s fitting for the other boy.

“Try me. We’re friends now, I’m legally obligated to believe everything you say.”

“Alright.” Wally looks the other boy up and down, hand on his chin. Dick rolls his eyes with a grin.

“Your shoes are way too expensive for gardening.” In mock offense, Dick puts a hand on his own chest.

“Oh yeah? Well your jeans look too new to be gardening in!”

“My jeans?Take a look at your- dress pants? Really?”

“I might have taken a reaaaally long break from my ballroom dancing classes at the summer house. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m gonna, especially when your nanny yells at me for being a bad influence on a ‘high-class citizen’.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alfred would never yell at you. He’ll just give you the scariest silent treatment and cook your favorite food slightly off so that there’s something funky about it, but you don’t know what.” When Wally gives him a strange look, Dick starts laughing about how Wally looks funny when he’s confused.

Wally realizes rich people are fucking weird.

Wally also realizes he really wants to reach out and hold his hand.

Then Wally realizes that without the glasses, Dick has really pretty eyes.

He’s so screwed.

#OH YOU KNOW....#just one boy having a good time #sorta???#its a yes their arguing is flirting and my mind can only be slightly swayed on that #fics #my work #birdflash #superheroes #dc #thank you for my lovely coraline au commissons linkly!!!!#i love them so much

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