#i had another tag i was gonna put here - what was it??? will add later if. i remember | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drewmorg4n · 9 months

Note

Perhaps a soft and somewhat smutty transmasc insert x negan fic where he’s heavily focused on the readers surgery scars, just tracing them with his fingers and kissing them cause I just know that man has a scar kink

(Also this is just a fully self indulgent req)

Glass Scars

pairing: negan smith x trans male reader

wc: 4,621

tags: smut, fluff but it’s negan so you know, scar kink, oral (reader receiving), only masculine terms used

an: (this is such a basic fic title but my mind blanked out and i couldn’t come up with anything else) i know this literally took forever for me to finish but i think it’s worth it? maybe? idk but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading :)

dni: cis/fem people…it’s self explanatory

(i tried to add in a really sexy gif here but i’m stupid and it didn’t work so </3)

“Jesus christ, that was a fucking shit show.” Negan exhales heavily. He’s currently hunched over, hands on his knees, completely out of breath.

After running into a small horde of walkers, you and Negan had to basically fight your way through them. There was nowhere to simply stay put and wait it out as they came at you from all directions and quickly boxed you in. Honestly, you were sure you were about to kick the bucket right then and there, but luckily Negan kept an eye on you and stepped in to help you as needed. You truly don’t know what you would do without that man. Die, probably.

“Yeah.” You agree softly, panting. Your pants and tee are basically drenched in blood and some small bits of guts, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You have to stop yourself from gagging a few times as the smell of it all finally hits you. “We’re going back, right? I really need a shower.” You mention tersely, grimacing at your current state.

Negan sighs. “Fuck, babe. C’mon, you look so hot covered in blood.” He exasperates, slowly striding over to you and enveloping you by your waist, gently pulling you close.

You roll your eyes, though the small smirk attempting to cross your lips eventually betrays you. “Negan, please. This shit smells awful and feels disgusting.” You whine softly, starting to pull out of Negan’s grip even though you really don’t want to.

Negan kisses your cheek before you get too far away from him, his lips tinted red after. “Well, I think we’ve gathered enough supplies.” He mentions, glancing at the few duffel bags that you’d both dropped when the horde approached. “Yeah, let’s go back. This shit does feel fuckin’ disgusting.” He agrees, his form suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

You nod in response, feeling relieved about Negan’s decision. After tucking away your knife and checking yourself over - making sure you didn’t drop anything - you make your way over to the bags and haul one up, resting heavily on your shoulder. As you move to grab another, Negan moves in the corner of your eye, catching your attention. You glance over and watch him for a moment; he slowly peels off his leather jacket, seemingly in a bit of pain. His white tee underneath is damp with blood, the fabric clinging to his skin. He may be in pain but he also looks extremely attractive like this. You can’t help the way your eyes skim up and down his upper body, taking notice of his hard nipples protruding his tee.

Just as he turns his head to look at you, you also turn, attention back on the bags. You repeat your previous movement with another bag, though luckily this one is a bit lighter. Still, the strain of them on each of your shoulders is definitely gonna hit you later.

As you try to make the weight as bearable as you can, Negan comes over and gathers the rest of the bags; three in total. Negan then leads the way, walking a short distance back to the truck. It was honestly a stupid idea to leave it, but the spot you guys were trying to get to wasn’t accessible by the road as it had been blocked off, which really left no other choice but to walk. You definitely wouldn’t be coming this way again without a few more men.

Just a few minutes later you’re piling the bags into the bed of the truck and soon after making yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. The drive back to the sanctuary shouldn’t take too long, but things aren’t always set in stone out here. You guys could stumble upon another horde or maybe even some people. All you can do is just sit back and wait.

You drift in and out of sleep throughout the whole ride, Negan’s hand a comforting warmth on your thigh. He laughs at you every time your head bobs forward, on the brink of sleep. You only have enough energy to groan softly, exhausted from your previous exertion.

Eventually you’re home, parked in the small parking lot beside the sanctuary. Negan squeezes your thigh a few times, getting your attention. “C’mon.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the building. “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” He offers softly, though his voice is deep and husky.

“Mhm.” You hum slowly, still half asleep and feeling very groggy. You manage to get out and step onto the gravel, hearing it crunch beneath your boots. The sound brings a wave of comfort over you, knowing that just an hour ago you were on the verge of death. The slam of Negan’s door rattles you from your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You take a moment to gather your bearings and close your door, then you slowly make your way to the back of the truck towards Negan.

“I told the guys to get the shit in the back. I’m dying for a shower.” He sighs dramatically, waiting until you’re close enough so he can take your hand in his. He then leads the way, entering through one of the side doors and ascending a few flights of stairs before stopping at the third floor.

He trails down the long hallway, stopping at the door to his room. He lets go of your hand and enters his room, immediately chucking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He’s absolutely ridiculous but you love it.

Following him inside, you close the door behind you and lock it as usual. When you turn back around the only piece of clothing left on Negan is his boxers, which happen to also have a few spots of blood on them, probably from the thick liquid seeping through his pants. Lastly, he removes his boxers, sighing in relief.

You’ve seen Negan naked hundreds of times now but each time always feels like the first, sending a shock up your spine and a shiver throughout your entire body. He’s just so alluring and gorgeous, no matter how many times you’ve seen his body; he’s perfect.

You eventually begin to follow Negan’s lead, undressing. You move extremely slow as you’re still very exhausted, but Negan seems to notice this and is quick to step in and help. He unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants, undoing the button and letting your jeans fall down your legs. You hold onto his shoulder as you step out of them and kick them aside. The same movement is done when removing your boxers.

Negan’s hands are on your waist in an instant, skimming them up and down your sides, lightly scratching his nails against your skin. You have to bite back a moan, though it’s not from arousal; Negan’s hands just feel incredibly good and cause you to become even more tired.

“C’mon. I’m gonna fall asleep if we don’t shower soon.” You warn slowly, smiling softly as your eyes begin to close unwillingly.

Negan chuckles deeply, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Alright, alright.” He concedes, his hands coming to a halt. “I just love touching you.” He whispers, lips gracing the shell of your ear. He then plants a few gentle kisses along your neck, ending with a quick nip.

“Yeah, well, you can do that in the shower, y’know.” You point out teasingly, earning another chuckle from Negan.

“You fuckin’ bet I will.” He growls lowly, leaning in for one last nip to your neck.

From there, he finally obeys and leads you to the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower. You both idle for a minute or two as the water begins to warm up, eventually shivering a bit from the cool air touching your skin.

Negan steps in the shower a moment later, pulling you along. The warm water rains down on your head, running down your body and effectively warming you. Before you know it Negan’s massaging shampoo into your hair, the sudden touch startling you a bit. You quickly relax into it, though, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

A good minute of massaging and Negan’s maneuvering you around the shower, letting the spray of water hit you directly. He gently rinses out the shampoo, placing a kiss to your temple afterwards.

“Thank you.” You say softly, warming even more at Negan’s lips against you. “Let me do you, too.” You offer, moving to reach for the bottle of shampoo and pouring some out onto your hand. After lathering up your hands you reach up and run your fingers through Negan’s hair. He smiles at the feeling, dipping his head down a bit so it’s less of a reach for you.

Once his hair has been thoroughly washed, you help him rinse out the shampoo, wiping away any suds that get too close to his eyes. You give him a quick, chaste kiss after, amused when he furrows his brows and pleads with his eyes for more.

“Later.” You counter, though you’re not even sure if you’ll be awake later. With the way you feel currently, you assume you won’t be, but who knows.

“Why do you always play hard to get?” He chides lowly, swooping in close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You roll your eyes, offering a soft smile. “Negan, we’re both covered in blood and I’m fucking exhausted. I just wanna shower in peace.” You explain a bit firmly, though the smile covering your lips has yet to drop.

“Well, I can surely be of service.” He assures with a wink, immediately moving to grab your washcloth. After rinsing it out he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up the cloth. He then starts cleaning you up, rubbing the cloth against your skin to get rid of the dry bits of blood. Continuing on, he does the rest of your upper body and then your lower, humming pleasantly once he’s done and sees that you’re clean.

After he rinses out the washcloth and hangs it back up, he again grabs the bar of soap and lathers his hands this time. While you watch him, you immediately know what he’s about to do.

Negan settles himself behind you and slips a hand around your waist, resting gently against your lower stomach. His other hand follows but rests on your groin, soon moving down and slipping your cock between his fingers. The motion makes you gasp, feeling arousal start to build in your gut. When his fingers move down just a bit then back up, you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips.

You honestly thought you were way too tired to get worked up, but clearly you were very wrong about that. You know Negan is still just cleaning you up, but of course his movements are painfully slow - most likely on purpose - which isn’t helping your increasing arousal.

Eventually his movement concludes, removing his hand. You sigh at the lack of touch, somewhat wishing Negan would put his hand back even though you’re still exhausted.

You take a moment to gather yourself before you copy Negan’s actions, offering to wash him off. He lets you do as you please, ridding his body of sticky blood. When your eyes manage to drift down, you’re sort of surprised he’s not hard. With the way he was touching you, you fully expected him to be.

As you finish up, Negan’s hands rest on your chest, trailing down and stopping right above your diaphragm. “Couldn’t see your scars when you were covered in blood.” He comments softly, eyeing your chest. His thumbs glide along them, from edge to edge.

You’re quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to even say to such a comment. His thumbs continue to trace your scars, side to side. “That feels good.” You say, lifting your head to look up at him. He looks totally entranced, eyes following the movement of one of his thumbs.

“Do you know how much I truly adore your scars?” He asks gently, eyes unmoving from your chest.

“Well, I could guess.” You chuckle softly. A smirk creeps onto Negan’s face in return, eyes finally looking up to meet your own. He dips his head down and places kiss after kiss along your neck, trailing them down to your collarbone; each kiss elicits a warm flush throughout your entire body.

Eventually, you completely lose track of time, though; the water runs colder and colder and soon you’re almost shivering.

“Negan, c’mon. We used all the hot water.” You note, slowly pulling yourself out of his grasp. He practically whines at the movement, hands moving quickly to pull you back into him, though you refuse and step back, turning off the water. “I’m freezing.” You grunt softly, looking up at him with annoyance.

“You know I’m a fuckin’ human furnace, babe.” He winks, his usual sly smirk covering his lips. He moves to push aside the shower curtain, stepping out after. He grabs one of the towels set on the counter and unfolds it, holding it up in front of him. “C’mere, let me warm you up.” He offers, softer than before.

You reluctantly step out, quickly wrapped up in the towel with firm, warm arms surrounding you. Negan first dries off your hair, ruffling it with the towel until it’s just damp, then moves onto your body. He’s quick but gentle, working up then down, making sure you’re all dry. Now, without cold droplets of water covering your skin, you’re much warmer but you still feel a deep need for actual heat.

Right as you’re about to head out of the bathroom, aiming to find something warm to wear, Negan stops you with a gentle grip on your forearm.

“Wait. Don’t get dressed.” He requests quickly, loosening his grip on your arm.

You furrow your brows. “Why?” You question curiously, confused.

Negan doesn’t respond for a moment which just manages to confuse you even more, but the light pink blush tinting his cheeks distracts you until he does. “I just like seeing you; your scars, the rest of your body. I love it.” He admits softly, his voice trailing off into a whisper. His cheeks are now red rather than pink, which tells you he was probably nervous to confess such a thing.

Negan’s statement has you at a loss for words, though. Of course he’s not necessarily the softest person, he’s always sarcastic and vulgar, causing him to usually say all the wrong things, but throughout the time you’ve been together, his soft side peeks out more and more each day.

“Oh.” You sigh, trying to muster up the right words to say. “Thank you. I-I-“ You stutter, quickly stopping yourself from continuing. You can’t believe the second you’re vulnerable you immediately start stuttering. Although it’s somewhat expected, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Negan smiles, holding back a soft chuckle. “It’s alright, baby.” He assures, noticing the nervous expression etched onto your face and wanting to bring you some comfort. “I’m gonna dry off. Just go wait for me.” He nods, quickly kissing your cheek.

You give him a soft smile and then you’re turning around, heading out of the bathroom once again. You end up following through with Negan’s request, ditching your clothes completely. You’re not even that cold anymore, the embarrassment and slightest bit of adrenaline warming you. Once you slide onto the bed, making yourself comfortable on top of the silk sheets, you finally relax. After today, you definitely need a break from beyond the walls. Knowing Negan, he’ll probably be hesitant to let you out again unless he’s by your side, but you’ll worry about that when it happens. For now, you let your limbs go limp and sink into the soft mattress as you wait for Negan.

A few short minutes later the bathroom door squeaks open, revealing a naked Negan. He wastes no time getting into bed; he pushes apart your legs and settles himself between them, his chest against your stomach. He really is a human furnace.

Soon enough you feel his lips against you, kissing up and down your chest, your nipples, your scars. He hums contentedly as he kisses along each scar, from one edge to the other; he doesn’t miss a single spot.

You work your hands into his hair, combing it back as he continues his relentless kissing. After a few minutes, you realize you could definitely fall asleep like this; Negan’s lips grazing your chest. You’re already exhausted, so why not? You let yourself slowly drift off, eyes feeling heavier and heavier as each second passes.

“You’re so perfect, baby. So handsome.” Negan mumbles deeply, his throat and lips vibrating against you.

His soft words cause your eyes to pop open, feeling overwhelmed with affection and love. You somehow still haven’t gotten used to Negan’s praises; each time he says something even remotely good about you, your stomach flips and twists with the strongest feeling of appreciation. You’ve never felt so loved in your entire life.

“Kiss me.” You plead softly, almost whispering. He makes a noise similar to a hum but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. You pull on his hair gently but he resists, ignoring it and continuing his kisses along your chest. “Negan, please.” You groan, tugging on his hair again, though a bit harder this time.

He releases a throaty moan at the harsh pull of his hair, finally relenting and moving up your body, coming face to face with you. His usual sly grin is smeared across his lips, cockiness clearly flowing through him as he idles in front of your face, not making any attempts at moving closer and kissing you.

Feeling annoyed, you hurriedly grab the nape of his neck and pull him close, crashing your lips together. He chuckles at your gesture and struggles to kiss you back for a moment, but rather quickly he settles down and starts moving his lips against your own.

The movement of your lips started off fast but is beginning to slow and match Negan’s pace, which you really don’t mind. As long as you’re kissing him you have nothing to complain about.

Negan’s tongue dips into your mouth slowly, licking past your lips and grazing your teeth with his tongue. The moan that slips out of you is purely accidental but Negan certainly finds the noise pleasurable as his lips curl up into a small smirk.

His hands then skim up your body, stopping below your pecs. Once again he begins to smooth over your scars, each of his thumbs moving back and forth. You have no clue why he seems to be so obsessed with them, but it’s honestly a very relieving feeling knowing that your scars don’t bother him.

Suddenly Negan bites your lip, not hard but the gesture somewhat surprises you. As you relax into it, it feels good, almost intoxicating. Again you moan, wishing he would bite just a little bit harder. As if Negan is capable of reading your mind, he bites down harder a short moment later, eliciting yet another moan from you.

Fuck, his teeth feel so good latched onto your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. The sensation of it is almost overwhelming. An immeasurable amount of pressure and heat builds within your groin, quickly becoming unbearable. You grind your hips up, coming into contact with Negan’s cock, his warmth pressed against you lightly.

“Please.” You ground out after pulling out of the kiss, panting. Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point, you just want to be pleasured, touched. Anything.

Negan hums lowly, smirking as usual. “What do you want? Hm?” He inquires deep but soft. He begins placing kisses to your neck and slowly trails them down to your nipples, kissing each one wetly as his thumbs continue to caress your scars. “What does my pretty boy want?” He murmurs into your skin, his lips vibrating against you softly.

Unwillingly, your hips buck, connecting with Negan’s lower chest. He chuckles against you, lips around one of your nipples. You open your mouth to speak but find that you simply can’t. Instead of words coming out of your mouth, a loud moan slips past your lips. Without even thinking you grab Negan's hair, both hands twined into bundles of strands. You pull up, even though that’s not the direction you want him to go in, you just desperately need to tug on something.

Negan groans softly at the pull of his hair, humming lowly after. Before he kisses down the rest of your torso, his tongue darts out and ever so slowly licks across each of your scars, making you shiver.

“Jesus.” You gasp softly, a bit shocked. Negan must really have a thing for scars. Either way, his tongue feels good on you, tracing side to side.

Once he seems to have his fill of your scars, he kisses down your stomach all the way to your groin. You whine as you feel his lips getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area, resisting the urge to roll your hips. He places feather light kisses to the inside of your thigh, trailing them up and down. He’s kissing everywhere you don’t want him to; not that it doesn’t feel good but you’re so pent up with arousal that it’s starting to hurt.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you quickly tug, his head now hovering right above your cock. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing, his usual sly smirk covering his lips.

“Are you gonna tell me what you want now?” Negan asks lowly, feigning curiosity. “Cause I’ve got no fuckin’ clue.” He chuckles soft and deep, resuming his kisses; he’s so full of shit it’s painful.

Negan’s lips are now incredibly close to your dick and you want nothing more than for him to finally put his mouth to work on you. When his kissing doesn’t stop, you finally obey and voice your needs.

“Suck me off.” You whine softly, voice barely reaching a whisper. Your hips roll involuntarily, crotch brushing against Negan’s scruffy chin. Even that slightest bit of friction has you moaning again, just hoping Negan will put a stop to his teasing and finally give you what you want.

Negan laughs darkly, eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. His tongue darts out and skims across his lips, biting it softly as he slowly puts it back in his mouth. “I can’t decide if I should make you beg for it or not.” He teases, smirk never faltering. His fingers rub along your hip, digging in just slightly.

You tighten your hand in Negan’s hair, pulling on it. “Please.” You whimper softly, desperation filling your voice.

Your begging causes Negan’s smirk to grow even wider, his teeth gleaming at you. He’s clearly enjoying this but you’re not sure how much more you can take. You’re so pent up with sexual desire it’s unfathomable.

Negan then begins to plant kiss after kiss to your groin, leading down to your sensitive cock. The second his lips come into contact with your dick you can’t help but buck your hips. Negan’s fingers are quick to dig into your hips and hold you down, though his kissing never stops.

The slight sting coming from Negan’s nails digging into you isn’t unpleasant, it’s actually extremely endearing and only turns you on even more. You’re quickly pulled from the sensation by Negan’s tongue gliding along your cock. You almost scream at how good it feels, though it’s more of a choked moan which is honestly a little embarrassing.

Your embarrassment is very quickly disregarded once Negan’s lips close around you, gently sucking what he can into his mouth. Your grip on Negan’s hair tightens immensely, fearing you may rip out chunks of it, though you know he really wouldn’t mind which would definitely be comical in another situation.

Negan continues his gentle sucking, slightly bobbing his head. You’re still rolling your hips though there’s not a lot of movement since Negan is keeping you in a steady hold.

After about a minute or so, Negan begins to suck harder along with digging his nails deeper into your hip. Both sensations mixed together have you going crazy, heading towards the edge. Whimpers begin to flood your mouth, dripping out like liquid. You simply can’t stop yourself, nor do you want to. Your own moans almost accentuate your pleasure, which is odd but you’ll gladly take it.

Negan then hums while he continues his incessant sucking - almost as if he’s also moaning - sending ripples of vibration through your groin, intensifying your pleasure even more.

“Jesus christ, Negan.” You pant, arching your back off the bed completely. You can feel the way your legs are trembling, indicating your climax is approaching. Practically your entire body is covered in a layer of sweat, droplets running down your face and chest. You’re about to burst at any moment.

You can’t even control the movement of your hips, it simply has a mind of its own, bucking hard and fast into Negan’s mouth, though he’s still holding you down as best as he can. Eventually, though, he relents and let’s go, giving you free range. Holding onto the back of his head, you fuck into his mouth repeatedly.

He’s happy to let you use him until you finally come, hips stuttering and shaking as you continue to roll them. It’s such an intense, overstimulating feeling, but at the same time it feels like pure heaven.

Your whimpering only gets louder and louder as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling with pleasure. “Fuck.” You whine, voice hoarse and wavering.

Negan chuckles, which sends another vibration through you. It’s too much, though. You’re officially overstimulated. You yank Negan’s head off of you by his hair, freeing yourself from his mouth.

“Shit.” You pant, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm roll through you. Negan looks up at you with half lidded eyes, smiling softly. There’s a single string of saliva leading from his lips to your dick, which elicits a small chuckle from your throat. Using your thumb, you gently wipe it away.

“Thanks.” Negan chuckles, resting his head on your lower stomach.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, smiling. “C’mere, let me return the favor.” You decide, smoothing your hands along his upper back.

Negan yawns. “I already came.” He states, looking back up at you. “You’re just so fuckin’ sexy when your cock is in my mouth, making all those pretty noises. Only had to grind against the bed for like, two fuckin’ seconds before I came.” He explains easily, feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about the noises you were making.

“Oh.” You mumble softly, extremely flustered from Negan’s admission. “So, you ruined the sheets?” You question, yanking his chain.

Negan huffs a laugh. “Probably.” He agrees, chuckling. He slowly crawls up your body and places a gentle kiss to your lips before laying down beside you. He’s quick to pull you into his side, arms wrapped around you.

You sigh and relax into his hold, resting your head atop his chest; the hair there manages to tickle your nose every now and then, but you really don’t mind - you wouldn’t change it.

As you listen to the sound of Negan’s heartbeat, you quickly find yourself drifting off into sleep, body and mind completely exhausted. You refuse to fight it and eventually you slip into a deep sleep, cradled by the only man you’ve ever wanted.

#negan smith #negan #negan twd #negan smith fic #negan fic #negan smith x reader #negan smith x male reader #negan smith x trans male reader #negan x reader #negan x male reader #negan x trans male reader #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fic #twd fic #my fic

204 notes · View notes

shieldofiron · 10 months

Note

We have totally totally never talked about this before but I’m gonna bring it to your asks

Big (dilf? Kind of? Maybe) dom Billy who’s just like the most experienced kinkster ever but refuses to wear clothes that aren’t knitted and has the strongest prescription glasses and refuses to get a phone more modern than the brick

Then Steve who’s like hyper modern party animal and is immediately like “I want him” the moment they meet but keeps trying to drop thirst traps on tiktok and obviously Billy doesn’t even know what tiktok is

It’s a comedy of errors which I love

Oh I do like it. But I think I'm gonna add... Doctor Hargrove and Nurse Harrington into the equation.

Heather was always trying to show him her phone. He didn't necessarily see the appeal, but it was easy enough to just sit through whatever inane video she wanted him to watch. He was tired from a twelve hour shift might as well just let it happen.

Today he was really annoyed because his new t-shirt had a tag and he'd cut it out but he could still feel the scratching even though he'd taken it off hours ago.

"Can it wait until later?" Billy sighed, closing his eyes and resting against the back of her couch.

"No, it cannot wait until later," She tossed her hair to the side, "It's you, Billy."

"Me?" Billy shook his head without even consciously thinking of it, "Like when I texted you to pick up that lube I like?"

"No, and I'm not doing that by the way," Heather's perfectly painted lips quirked up into a smile, "No, it's a video of you."

"Someone took a video of me? What? Is that legal?" Billy leapt for her phone, grunting when she pulled back quickly and he flopped to the couch.

"It was at that grocery store you go to by the hospital that has terrible produce, not like, in your bathroom," She shook her head.

He sighed, "Okay fine."

He fully expects to see some video of him doing something clumsy, but instead it's just him, at a far distance. He's wearing the scrubs he wore on Monday, with the Scotty dogs, and he's still got his stethoscope on, yawning in the bread aisle. The video doesn't show his face, but it's unmistakably Billy, down to his old school digital watch.

A cheery robot voice says, "When you see your work crush outside of work." The video then cuts to a darkened car dashboard.

"I don't even know if I got groceries. I blacked out," A man's voice says with a laugh.

Billy frowns, "What is this?"

"It's tiktok, Billy," She swipes up and it cuts to one of Heather's favorite astrology videos, that she's showed him before.

"Wait, go back to the guy," He asks, grabbing for her phone.

She rolls her eyes, "Okay fine. Like you don't get enough ego boosts at the club with everyone begging you to be their dom."

"This is different. This is, actually me," Billy reaches out but she navigates back to the first video, tapping until another video fills her screen.

"What people think you do as a male nurse," the same cheery robot lady's voice says. A beautiful man fills the screen, wearing scrub bottoms and a silly costume nurse's hat.

"I'm here to take your temperature," The man bends close to the camera, brown eyes sparkling as he shamelessly angles his hairy chest towards Billy.

"Oh no," The man puts his hands to his cheek, "It seems you have sexy sex disease. I guess I'd better..."

He turns, arching his back just a little and Billy's mouth goes dry. beauty marks are scattered across his toned back, and he looks back coyly over his shoulder. The video cuts off.

"What I actually do as a male nurse," The robot voice says. It cuts to the same guy, his pretty fluffy hair a mess under a thick headband. He's got glasses on, and ugly, the Grinch themed scrubs.

"And you say it got stuck up there by accident?" He purses his pretty pink lips and writes something on a clipboard, "Okay, sure."

Billy laughs, "Heather, how do I get to this on my phone."

"Oh my god," She rolls her eyes, "Spare me from the Nokia."

"Well, then, what... how do I see the other videos?"

Heather complains, but as she sets him up on his ancient laptop. He has a tiktok account now, that only follows one thing, NurseStevie.

Heather watches a few more with him and then laughs, "I gotta go meet Barb for dinner. But I'll give you a hint. He works in pediatrics."

#harringrove ficlet #harringrove #asks #max i hope you like it #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove #doctor au

237 notes · View notes

fullsunised · 11 months

Text

and love.

ɴᴄᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ¹ : ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ 'ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'

. ★彡 genre: fluff

. ★彡 trigger warnings: swear words

. ★彡 requests are being worked on, apologies for the delay

. ★彡 a/n: uh, this is gonna be like scenarios ig. imma do other groups as well changed my layouts and shit

❝ 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔❞

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

lyric making sessions in the studio were you're favourite. mark didn't have to hide what he felt in that room. the only room where you could be as intimate and honest as you want. today was another one of those sessions. it was 2 in the night- when both of you were exhausted from everything that happened for the whole day, your bodies demanding rest but your heads running on full power, because they knew today might be the last day you could spend time together considering you were going on tour. that would last you three long months.

"Do you think I should add...hmm let's see- oh do you think I should add like- uh I don't know", you groaned in frustration. the nerves in your brain working ay full capacity to put your feelings into words. but unfortunately for you that's not working. your boyfriend, mark chuckled softly. his fingers grazing the strings of his guitar. he strummed the instrument to release a melody that filled your heart with warmth.

how can him just doing the bare minimum fill your heart?

"What you looking at?", mark asked his eyebrows raised. you just grinned shaking your head. silence covered the room. you only have today until the next few months but none of you said a word. it could be that there was so much to say but so little time- or it could be that you have nothing to tell each other at all, after all, it's been 3 long years since you started dating.

you went back to scribbling ideas. nothing really striking your head. meanwhile, mark watched you. his eyes crying with love. he was so head over heels for you it wasn't even a joke anymore.

"Like the moon in the sky, you come to my mind every night"

you suddenly stated picking up words from every corner of your brain. mark looked down at you, sprawled on the floor from the couch with wide eyes before he rested his guitar aside and snatched the paper from you to write something. you waited impatiently. what was he doing for so long??? in less than five minutes mark was done writing.

you stood up from your seat and went next to him. mark gave you a wide grin later handing you the paper. your eyes scanned over the lyrics, the smile on your face growing wider and wider with every line you read. when you were done reading, you're eyes met his before disappearing and forming moons on either side.

mark felt his heart stop. is this what love meant? to adore the person so much that you feel like you're dying? he didn't know that. all he knew was the you in front of him will be the you he wants to be with forever. the three words that wretched his heart for so long finally left his lips.

the three words he's always been meaning to tell you, finally reaching you.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 ] ࿐ྂ

it was renjun's therapy day and you had no reason to be here except for the fact that you're boyfriend asked you to tag along. you were lead into an empty room full of white canvases. renjun was told to paint his feelings onto the whiteness. and it seemed like he was suffering greatly, because he couldn't put anything onto the blankness.

you sighed feeling every bit of your energy drain away by the passing minute. who would've known a therapy session can be so boring. a whine escaped your lips as your head fell onto the table. this wasn't your first attempt at complain but it seemed like every other one, this was ignored by your boyfriend too.

deciding its high time you show him how it's done, you picked up some brushes, some paints and a canvas opposite renjun to show him your talent. for the new few minutes or more like an hour, it was nothing but silence. both of you focusing on your pieces too much that nothing else mattered.

renjun was the first one to finish his- he started way before you anyways. it wasn't until now that he realised his girlfriend was also busy creating something herself. "What are you doing?", he asked only to he ignored. Guess karma is real after all. he took a seat and waited. he knew how easy it was to break your focus so he let you be.

but his eyes never left you. he observed every little detail about you. this image of you in an artist apron, with brushes in your hair, paint on your face, etching into his head forever. no matter how many times he looks at you, it still feels like the first time. he stopped breathing when that one strand of hair fell onto your face and you tried you're hardest to blow it away.

he could be dead right now, and he wouldn't mind it. when it seemed like you were done, he walked towards you. "Nah, show me your's first", you asked hiding your's away. he rolled his eyes turning his canvas to you. a blue sea, a couple standing in the water. it was breathe taking. you're boyfriend is talented, but not as much as you and you stood on that.

with a smug grin on your face, acting like you've just done the next revolutionary thing, you turned your painting to him. his eyes widened before he started laughing right in your face. your proud smug was replaced by a pout. "You're so mean. I tried my best!", you whined throwing your painting away and taking a seat.

renjun, who couldn't stop laughing sat next to you. his eyes watering, a hand on his stomach because why was his girlfriend the cutest and the dorkiest shit ever.

"You're so adorable, I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

it didn't take you two a minute to smash lips together. After not being able to see each other for almost 3 months or so, it was a reward to be around each other. jeno was busy with dream and their new comeback while you were just you, having so much on your plate.

pulling away for a spilt second, you connect lips again no wanting to let ago so easily. jeno pushed you against the wall, his hands resting on your exposed waist, rubbing soft circles while you two made out. that went on for about a few minutes, until the door bell rang.

a whine escaped your lips as soon as you retracted lips. he left to answer the door and collect the delivery he had ordered before coming over to your's. "Let's eat first, I know you're hungry", he stated leaving a soft peck on your lips.

you roll your eyes but give in, considering how your belly just rumbled. taking a seat on the couch, you played something on the huge TV that covered half of your wall. "I still can't get over your huge dorm", he said opening the boxes.

chuckling you take a bite of the fried chicken, a groan of pleasure leaving you instantly. jeno looked at you wide eyes, his gaze softening not long after, his eyes disappearing as he watched you eat. just you eating is filling his heart with warmth. your attention shifted to the screen, your favourite anime catching your eye.

"How many times will you watch Saiki.K?"

rolling your eyes, you shove another piece into your mouth. "Saiki is the love of my life", you state sighing proudly. jeno smiled at your antics, impressed with the way you were gobbling everything down. he adored you for every little thing you did, for how hard you worked, for how you smiled no matter what, for how you could light up a room with just a grin.

jeno before he had even realised, found himself wrapped around your fingers, his heart in your hands. he wasn't afraid of you breaking it, he was afraid of loosing it to you, permanently- which in his eyes again wouldn't be a bad thing. his eyes stayed on you, just you smiling at the screen, with a mouthful of food. his muscles moved faster than his brain could.

"Y/N, i love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ] ࿐ྂ

"mark said they'll be here in fifteen minutes", cyou hum pouring yourself a glass of water, chugging it down instantly. your eyes then drifted to your boyfriend, who had the biggest pout humanity has ever witnessed resting on his face, for the past twenty minutes or so. why? because he was upset, he has to leave and that he won't be able to see you for another week. a smile makes it way to you, cooing internally at how cute hyuck is being, but you'd never admit it, considering how he already has enough inflated ego.

reaching the couch, you take a seat next to him, spreading your legs on the table. donghyuck latches onto your arm, snuggling his head into your chest, a whine escaping his lips at your lack of response- desperation. cause he was desperate, trust him, very desperate to stay with you even for an hour or a minute longer. he was already planning ways to come see you in between practise, or to call you over during the middle of the night.

"Your comeback is soon you know", you reminded him while taking a bite of the chocolate he got you, as a present, today. he whined again, resting his head in the crook of your neck, the grip on your hand growing tighter because he doesn't want to let you go. when he could find all the comfort he needs, right next to you, with you in his arms, why is he putting all this hard work for? don't get him wrong, he loves his fans and his job, but you, the way he loves you was different, it was the love that made him crazy, like right now.

sighing, you ran your fingers through his hair. you truly loved hyuck with all your fucking heart, but if he didn't leave now, all your schedules- like a ton of them that were lined up for today would be paused, even worse cancelled. "Come on, we can see each other next weekend hmm", you tried persuading him but he wasn't listening. a tune of whines filled your ears, as he climbed onto your lap and locked you up with both his arms.

cupping his cheeks, you made him look at you. "sunshine, stop behaving like a kid-", he looked down refusing to meet your eyes. sighing you let a promise slip up, well, if it makes him happy then anything for him. "I'll come visit you someday in between, what do you say?", you offer only to find his face light up like the night sky. it was as if he's been waiting for you to make that statement. slapping his arm after seeing right through his antics, you point to the door that someone started knocking.

he looked at you, before pressing his lips against your's in a long, slow kiss, the one that would last him until however long you see each other again. you smile against his lips, feeling all your energy drain right under his touch. donghyuck pulled away with his heart running miles an hour, his stomach full with butterflies, and the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him. you wait considering how he was still sprawled on your lap, and he says the words you'd definitely grow to adore.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐀 ] ࿐ྂ

"I'm so tired, I'm sorry", jaemin whispered in your ear, his arms wrapping themselves around your back while he watched you cook your dinner for today. you give him a soft smile, kissing his cheek later turning your attention back to the food that was sizzling on the pan. "It's okay. don't worry about it". his grip around you tightened, his chin now resting on your shoulder. jaemin felt really bad, you were tired and top of that you promised to cook him food.

as one of the best cooks known to the industry, he was more than happy to have you cook for him, feeling utmost blessed for having you on his side, closer than everyone else. "You know, our company is making me cook for all of my close friends, it's a new content for my youtube channel", your soft voice flew into his ears making him grin widely. with his eyes closed he hummed. "Will you be able to handle that?". you nodded plating the two side dishes you've prepared. "It's okay, even though i'm an idol I love feeding people", you state taking a bite of the ramen you cooked. with the same chopsticks, you fed jaemin some, who groaned at the taste.

"It's just ramen"

he shook his head pulling you closer if that's possible. silence fell over you two, the comfort feeling too good to be true, which it was considering how you had to run again to make schedules. "I'm so proud of you", he suddenly muttered drowning the back of your neck in soft kisses. chuckling you wiggle under his touch, feeling the tickles spread all over your spine. "That was random". he gave you the widest grin, turning you on your heels to make you face him. his eyes stayed in you for a second longer, taking every part of you into his brain. making sure to leave it there permanently, just like he left every part of you in his heart. you wrapped your arms around his torso, smiling.

his lips softly touched your's, jaemin pouring every ounce of love from all his cells into you, for you. you've never imagined yourself to fall so hard for someone, to look forward to touching someone so much, that your heart physically hurt from it- jaemin could say the same too, every part of him yearned to hold you, touch you. this magical feeling was just enough to keep you two going. pulling away, he let his eyes linger again. from your eyes to your lips to your nose. "I'm like so proud of you, thank you for doing so good, and thank you for being mine", he whispered into the tiny space that separated you. "I know, and I am too", you give him the widest of grins he had ever seen, the one that he had on his face right now.

jaemin knew he didn't have to look far, to find you, the one he'd give his forever to.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆] ࿐ྂ

chenle was nervous. like his heart is slowly sinking down to his feet, his brain rotting away with every time the long hand on the clock he has been staring at since the past three hours moved. according to your manager, you were meant to be home at 12AM but it was two now, and you were no where to be seen. sure, he had sent you multiple texts, he even texted your manager to find out how long until you were home, but none of you replied. no, he wasn't nervous because he was worried what would've happened to you, but he was nervous because of the ring that stood on the table in front of him.

no, he isn't planning to ask you out. considering how you had been dating for only about a year or so, he knew asking you out, engagement were very far away, but he also knew you were the one he'd be spending the rest of his life with, whether you like it or not, but either way that wasn't the point. the point was, when he was on his world tour, he stumbled upon this couple rings set, which without a doubt he found absolutely stunning, therefore he bought it. he has, after a lot of convincing from himself, decided to give it to you today.

ha! as on cue, he heard the passcode on your door being typed. with a long sigh, you walked in to find chenle judging you real hard. "What?", you asked taking your shoes off, later dropping your bag onto the floor and falling onto the couch. with the reflex faster than lightning, he pulled the ring into this pocket, without you noticing it. "Why are you this late?", he interrogated crossing his arms. you rolled your eyes, tying your hair up, feeling all sticky. "the practise, had to go longer cause we had to change some steps", you state ready to take a shower. he gives you a green signal letting you leave while he battled with his own nerves.

in less than twenty minutes, you walked out, your hair tied up. "Did you eat?", you question pouring yourself some water. he nodded, slipping the ring box onto your couch. quenching your thirst, you rush to fall into his arms, the desperation for peace evident in your actions. chenle chuckles letting you it on his lap, his arms secured around you. "I missed you", you whispered kissing his chin. he nods causing you to lift your eyebrows up in question. the boy was pissing his pants but he knew he had to do it. taking the ring he once hid, he put it in front of you. your eyes widen as soon as he opens the box, two very similar looking rings coming into your vision.

"Y/n, I think you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, so I want you to have this. this is a promise I make- to have you by my side forever. if you say no, I'm gonna be so embarrassed so your gonna have to give me a minute-", he started rambling on and on, the point he was trying to make lost. your smile widened, before you stretched your hand out. chenle breathed of relief, all the drained blood coming back to him. after slipping the ring on your finger, he slapped your arm.

"What was that for?", you screech offended. "For scaring me", he mumbled sticking his tongue out earning an eye roll from you. "Also, I forgot to mention-", you perk your ears up looking at him.

"I love you"

╰─▸ ❝ 愛 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 ] ࿐ྂ

"Is this your new comeback?", you question sitting in front of the mirror watching as your boyfriend practised. jisung nodded scrolling over to play the song, he has been practising for the past two hours again. your eyes never failed to follow his every movement, like he never failed to impress you with his skills. he didn't even if you blinked miss a beat, hitting each and every one of them perfectly. you knew jisung was unmatched with his talent, he was for sure one of the best dancers in the industry. which is why precisely, the competitive spirit inside you hit.

while he danced, you stood next to him and copied each of his movements, and you almost succeeded, this one step casually being your downfall. your eyebrows knit together in concentration, your hands copying and playing the same move over and over again, but something definitely felt wrong. jisung who had now paused his practise, watched you, a lovestruck smile plastered on his face. "What the fuck", you curse before adding numbers to the step, hoping it would make you learn the step better but it didn't.

jisung watched you struggle, cooing and smiling at your adorable self. his eyes stayed on you, also, using his phone to click pictures of the very concentrated you because that was a rare sight to see. y/n, the idol who was good at everything was struggling, oh, he's definitely using that to make fun of you later, and perhaps uploading it on bubble for your fans to see too. a groan left your lips, frustration evident on your features, the urge to give up filling you up. "Do you need help?", he asked chuckling. you shake your head, wanting to figure it out for yourself, but failing miserably.

he lets you do it for another twenty minutes, until you turn to him, your eyes pleading for help because anything and everything you wasn't working. letting out a soft, but deep voiced laugh, that never failed to mess with your insides, jisung plays that part of the song to brainstorm how he did it. "It's really simple, do this, that and yeah, that", he demonstrated and the step you have been struggling with for the past thirty minutes, became the easiest step to ever exist. you replicated what he showed exactly, and it worked.

"You're a genius baby", you breathe doing that step over and over in excitement. jisung grinned with pink ears, the ability to stay flustered around you taking action. you ran to play the song again, and this time both of you did it all perfectly. you cheered latching onto his arm, the smile on you bright enough to light up a whole room. while watching you being cheeky, jisung had realised what you truly meant to him- a home, a warm, safe space where he could be all he wanted. you genuinely filled him with happiness, when he was around you all he wanted be was a lovestruck teenager. with you still around his figure, jisung whispered the words which lit up your eyes.

"I love you"

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗗.

231 notes · View notes

wikiangela · 3 months

Text

tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway.

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script.

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

#tease tidbit tuesday #death cast buddie au #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #angst #buddie angst #mcd #i don't know how yet but eddie will die in this one bc apparently ive been in the mood to break my own heart lmao #i wanted to say maybe i'd share smth happier tomorrow but i don't think i have any happy wips im actively working on rn???#there are happy wips in general but im not really in the mood/inspired for those rn #ran out of happy when i finished the natalia fic i guess lol #who even am i lmao what's with all the angst and sad im usually all about fluff 🤣#(gonna share some more of alive shannon tomorrow!)#btw if you haven't read the books and have questions hmu but also i'll try to make everything clear in the fic lol #but also SO recommend the books they're so good and so sad and I think about them like at least once a week (the prequel wrecked me)

49 notes · View notes

rockerscentral · 1 month

Text

ROCKERSCENTRAL MASTERPOST🎸

(A rockers-related Rhythm Heaven ask blog!)

Info can be found under the line break.

___________________

The Basics: (or the General Info)

This blog serves to be a more creative way for me to share all of the ideas that I had planned out for the Rockers, along with some other guys, mainly following a story-esque format that follows their "backstory" and how they had originally met up to become the well known rock duo they are now!

Following up on the text above, just to clarify and put it straight, the blog will not start out with the both of them right away, and will likely follow the perspective of one or the other.

While there will be art for a bunch of the asks, especially for standard posts that are needed to progress the story, I cannot guarantee that there will be something drawn for each ask, though I do wish to try and do so. That applies to whether it's a colored sketch, actual drawing, a simple doodle, etc.

Some characters may have different names than some that may be commonly used as a fan-name from the fandom, the main case of this going to Student (name being Jamie.)

This whole blog's going to be a headcanon fest, considering how a majority of this is me making shit up for the most part, so please keep that in mind if you see different portrayals for one thing or another.

Additional Notes:

If you are running another character-based blog, it is completely alright to interact with this account! Just keep in mind that this is technically taking place in the past, which means that any asks that are sent that mention anything that could be in regards to any present matters /foreshadows anything about the Rockers will likely be ignored.

While it may not be prevalent for the long run start of this blog, I do ship the Rockers together, and would probably come up at some point very later on when the time comes, so be weary of that if you don't like the ship and such.

This blog is only being run by me, myself and I ( @submaskudari ), so things might be a bit slow depending on the situation.

I will also answer asks that are out of character for those who wish to know anything from me specifically ^_^

Unless there is only one character that's available for asks, please specify who you are sending an ask towards, otherwise it may be pushed back out of confusion.

___________________

Blog Rules:

Don't be a weirdo in the asks LOL

NO METAGAMING.. I have no idea how that'd play out anyways, but this still applies :sob:

Try not to spam the ask box, or be repetitive with asks.. I'm just one guy, and sometimes it might take a moment to spot it.

Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Proship, and all of the other bad shit is not welcome here, so please see yourself out if you fall under said criteria.

Please be kind!! I am just a little guy, again.

___________________

Tags:

# (insert character name) + ask: Asks that are directed to said character #main art reblog: main blog posts that either feature Rockers/ Blog-related content. #refs: Simply the refs I work off of for the characters I draw here. # (insert tumblr user here): Asks sent by said user/blog. #asks: Ask posts in general. #ooc ask: Asks that are related to the blog, but are directed to the blog owner (me) rather than an ic ask for the characters. #masterpost: what do you think LOL #sillyart: probably gonna be labled under shitposts or verrry bad doodles, just goofing around! #rockerscentral: tag for chrono-order posts, asks or non asks

#djschoolcentral: april fools posts (chrono order, too)

___________________

This will be updated time from time as the blog progresses, rather it'd be for rule additions or something else. If anything, I'm probably going to add a blog Q&A for any additional questions that anyone may have, so feel free to ask!

#masterpost #rhythm heaven #rhythm tengoku #rockers #rhythm heaven rockers

27 notes · View notes

camilaxmartin · 1 month

Note

gonna put them emoji’s again💀😭 so it would be: 🥑🍬🌸🐝🎨🍄

I love using these TOTALLY USEFUL emoji’s so I picked em🥰

you don’t use avocado/bee/mushroom everyday? what are you even doing?🙄

BUT ANYWAY

🥑: you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

probably @bunnylove1 and @blookyag, idk why tho honestly, just getting the vibes they’d help somebody out with hiding the body💀 (it’s a compliment, i swear-)

🍬: post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character:

okay uhh- (don’t cancel me plz) i respect with my whole heart that alastor is asexual and (?) aromantic but i don’t get the hate people receive when shipping him with someone? as far as i know being on the spectrum means he can still date? like i know, he doesn’t show any interest in that but if its just for a silly au or for a cool drawing then what’s the fuss about? i’m not talking like about erasing that part of him because that’s a big no no for me, but like…? respecting it but still having fun with his character? i saw a great tiktok explaining my thoughts exactly so maybe i’ll link it here if i can find it (add the link here later camila:) (besides all that i project a lot of myself onto alastor (still debating if im aromantic or not) and i want to explore myself with his character (if i can even phrase it that way) so all the hate and shit really bother me, you know?)

(another thing more about whole thing not a character is that “whatever it takes” is in my top 4 songs and i don’t get the hate it gets?? i love this song?? it’s so great?? two latina (?) girls singing together?? cmon??)

🌸: do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them:

i do actually! i have a dog and three rats:) (also had a rabbit but he died not so long ago and he was like my whole world so i got a tattoo to remember him, i’ll add it as well just because i can)

🐝: tag your biggest supporters and say one nice thing about them:

@kimmyisachiisaiakuma - ugh of course?? like in my head we are already besties fr fr, what can i saaaay😭 idk i love you and how supportive and just friendly you are!!:) and god of course, i love your art?? but i’ve already said it a thousand times??? so here’s one thousand first??

@bunnylove1 - just how supportive you are towards my stuff and how with exactly one request i felt like we also became besties? maybe it’s just me but yeah😭

@blookyag - liking my every post and responding to every single one of them!!! she’s a treasure, really. i’m surprised someone cares about my rambling this much💀

@informist - i’ve noticed that she’s also reacting to a lot of my stuff and she’s so quick with it like?? idk it makes my heart jump okay? i love attention from people even when it’s just my stupid rambling😭 (#iamanattentionwhore 😗😗)

@rougecreator1 - liked a lot of my posts as well, and somehow i feel like they enjoy my stuff? idk tho?😭😭 yeah just noticed interactions in my activities:)

@riveramorylunar - i feel like we were more active on each other’s accounts when i was still in my lady lesso era, but idk i really liked you then and i still love seeing your stuff pop up on my main page:)

and of course, all of my lovely anons who send me their ideas that i can’t wait to write!!:)

🎨: link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it:

okay so like it changes every day?? but for now i must say this one:

click!

why? simple. a. brokerdoll b. the marvellous style? c. i want to draw like that d. just… just look at it okay? e. lesbians.

(and a special mention for THIS as well, as it’s the first time someone ever drawn my oc and besides the fact that she looks so pretty here it’s just… idk i just love it okay, she stole my heart)

🍄: share a headcanon for one of your favourite ships or pairings:

let’s start with the fact that i even have a favourite account for all the headcanons about brokerdoll which is @vypridae (adore all the hcs, really)

buut! my personal headcanon is:

• carmilla didn’t really expect to fall for velvette, i mean in my head she just saw her as so… respectless and dumb and stupid and careless and carefree and wild and free and pretty- wait

yeah, so in my head velvette was the first to initiate anything and at first carmilla was like “ha! no way, you stupid girl” but then she started to think more and more about velvette as the time went on and one day she just got along the fact that she might be attracted to the young overlord and somehow… went with it? like she didn’t make a big deal out of it… but velvette definitely did, despite the fact she was actually the first one to say or act on her attraction in any way.

(i need to write more headcanons for them, they’re literally eating up my brain)

#camilarambles #ask camila!#camilaanswersasks #brokerdoll

22 notes · View notes

sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.8k

A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together.

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.”

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down.

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly.

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who’s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics #fic: ralph

168 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Note

I’m jumping on the baby fever train! Choo choo. But I don’t have any money for a ticket. I’m a transient riding the rails with my stick and bindle. all I can offer you is half a tin of beans and the company of a scraggly dog that follows me on my travels. I’ll let you pet the mutt I’ve named Sparkplug if you’d be so kind to spin me a little yarn about Santi having a baby with a reader with whom he had a one night fling…. *shakes can of beans at you* I’ll even let you have the first bite o beans.

Why thank you!! I will let you take the first bite of beans if I can sit next to Sparkplug. May I call him Sparky?

Alright, heat those beans up while I weave this tale (this tale that got too long, oh my god I hope the beans are still warm)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, angst, ends in fluff

It's hard to tell Santiago what happened

He gave you his number, but he did so in a way that he obviously doesn't expect you to use it.

It was in like a passing, 'let's get dinner some time' but said in a way that he clearly never expects to see you...Ever again.

So when you use the number, when you call and not text, he sounds confused. Confusion melts to flirty intrigue, jokes about coming back for seconds.

You ask him to meet you for coffee. You barely know this guy, this is big news. A public space would be better.

Santiago comes in all cocky, grinning. He must assume you're gonna fuck in the bathroom.

You wait until he's two sips into his coffee to tell him that you're pregnant.

You try not to be too offended when he asks, "Are you sure it's mine?"

"You're the only person I've had sex with since, like, last year, so...Yeah.”

Santiago leans back in his seat, eyes sweeping your face before he turns back down to his cup of coffee. You can see his jaw working.

"What do you wanna do?" He asks.

You've been asking yourself that since you found out. You haven't told anyone in your family about this, none of your friends. You've been stewing and worrying alone.

"...I don't know." It comes out of you quietly, shaking like a rattle.

Santiago doesn't coddle you. He doesn't tell you that it's going to be alright. He just tells you that he'll support whatever you wanna do.

"What if I wanna have it?" You ask.

"I'm not gonna try and stop you."

"Would you want to be involved?"

Santiago sighs, and your chest twists with discomfort. You have to stop yourself from raising your hand to protectively and defensively rest on your stomach.

“With what I do, I’m not...I don’t spend most of my time in the States.”

“What do you do?”

“Is that important?”

“That’s a pretty stupid question if I’m gonna have your kid.”

Santiago grimaces, leans in and lowers his voice, and tells you.

It’s startling, but not wholly surprising. You’d seen the scars, the dog tags.

“Look,” Santiago adds. “I’m just—I’m trying to set your expectations here. If you decide to have it, I’m not necessarily going to be around.”

“No, I—” You shake your head. “I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

Santiago nods a touch, though he doesn’t seem to believe you.

“I’m leaving at the end of the week,” He says. “Think you’ll decide by then?”

“Maybe.”

“...Don’t rush it. I was just wondering.”

And then Santiago slides out of the booth. “You’ve got my number. Let me know.”

You do let him know. You call him two weeks later, and tell him that you’re keeping it.

“...Alright,” He says.

You don’t ask if he wants to be involved, if he’s mad at you. They’re answers that you’re not sure you want.

“I’ll send you updates if you want updates,” You tell him. “Either way—You know, no worries.”

“...Sure.”

The space that he puts into these answers is concerning, but you try not to read into it.

“Bye, then.” You hang up without another word and toss the phone onto your bed. Then you look down at your belly and poke it. “Guess it’s just you and me, huh, kid?”

You send Santiago updates.

You start getting checks. When you text him about them, he just says, ‘Baby shit is expensive’.

He tells you he won’t take any of it back, even when you try. The two of you settle on an amount for him to send regularly.

You only send him ultrasounds and doctor’s notes—not pictures of the bump, or thoughts that you have on names, or the progress of the nursery.

You’re eight months along when your buzzer rings late at night. You frown, pushing yourself up from the couch and setting aside your nearly-decimated pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“Who’s that?” You murmur to your belly as you head for the door. You press the ‘talk button’ and ask who it is.

When Santiago’s voice crackles through, you’re briefly stunned. And then you hit the ‘open’ button.

You stare down at your maternity PJs, and the swell of your belly peeking out between your sweatpants and top.

When there’s a knock on the door, you jump just a little. You take in a deep breath and swallow thickly before you open the door.

Santiago looks as surprised to be there as you are. He searches your face for a moment before he says, “Hi.”

“Hello.”

His eyes drop to the swell of your belly and his mouth works wordlessly for just a second. Then he asks, “Can I come in?”

It’s weird being around him. There’s no crackling sexuality between the two of you as there was that first night, and far less tension between the two of you than there was at the coffee shop.

Santiago just looks around, then down the hall. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, and you nod, saying, “The one on the left.”

Santiago goes, and you follow. He takes his time after he flicks on the light, looking around the cool mint green of the nursery—the crib, the toys, the rocking chair, the changing table and dresser.

“...You’ve got clothes?”

“In the dresser and the closet.”

“Diapers?”

“Uh-huh.” Then, “I got a lot from the baby shower.”

Santiago nods a little, walking over to the dresser and pulling the drawers open to look at them before he nudges it shut again. He turns to look at the window, the baby monitor, then you. “...You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just takes a moment and says, “I’m going to be, um...I’m back in the States—for good.”

“...Okay.”

You don’t ask if he’ll be nearby, if he has plans. They’re questions that you don’t think you want the answers to.

“...Will you tell me when you go into labor?”

“Yeah, of course,” You insist, “I was always gonna—I mean I wouldn’t have not told you.”

“Okay.” Then—“I should get going. I have to unpack.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you—“Nearby?”

“Bout five minutes away.”

You tell yourself not to read into it, not to expect support, but it makes your heart tick up in your chest. You just nod, and step back to let Santiago out of the room, and follow him down the hall to your front door.

He stops at the door and turns back to you, looking at your belly.

“Can I, uh...” He starts, brow furrowing a little. You lift your shirt wordlessly and reach out, taking hold of his hand and placing it on your belly.

You see a shift in him, and he takes a step closer.

You watch him raise his other hand, gently smoothing his hands around your stomach. You lift your eyes to his face, taking in his warm, watering eyes, his full lips pursed into a thin line, and his lashes fluttering as he blinks rapidly, perhaps trying to hide his tears.

You hope the baby has his curls.

Santiago becomes a more frequent visitor in the last two months of your pregnancy.

He starts visiting not only to check in on how the baby’s doing. He starts speaking with you, too. You start getting to know the father of your child.

It’s...Kind of nice. The film of nerves and distance drop away, and the teasing and smiles that led you to sleep with him in the first place sneak back in.

A week before your due date, you sit on your couch with Santiago, watching a movie, Santiago’s hand absently resting on the swell of your baby bump.

“...Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” He suddenly asks.

You glance over at him and nod, “Yeah.” Then, “You wanna know?”

Santiago glances down at your belly before turning back to the tv.

“Nah.”

You smile a little bit, turning back to the tv. “Alright.”

“I can wait.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s only a week.”

“Sure, Garcia. Keep protesting, I’m finding it cute.”

When you go into labor, Santiago is the first person you call.

He’s at your apartment in three minutes.

When your baby girl is born, Santiago is right there with you, telling you to push, telling you you’re doing an amazing job

As Santiago cradles the baby, as he strokes over her tiny nose, he mutters, “You could’ve just told me it was gonna be a girl.”

You smile tiredly up at them, eyes on the bundle. “You actually waited the week. I’m impressed.”

Santiago spends the first few months close to you. He starts to sleep on your couch.

When that begins to bother his neck, you offer to let him sleep in bed with you, “Just so you—Oh, don’t look at me like that—”

“You want another one already?”

“That is not funny, Garcia. But you know what, fine, sleep on the couch, enjoy the crick in your neck.”

He starts sleeping in your bed. He has a few changes of clothes at your place.

He has a level of involvement that you never thought he’d be around for, but you’re incredibly happy with.

The two of you are also becoming more...Friendly.

You don’t know if it’s the fatigue, or the fact that you wake up in his arms most mornings, but Santiago is being more affectionate with you these days—touchier, lighter to tease.

It’s still not like that first night—things have shifted in a way that you can never change, and you know it.

Seeing the way he is with the baby helps, too.

Santiago is so good with the baby.

He’s calm. He speaks to her in tender tones. He sings to her in spanish under his breath when he’s trying to get her down.

He encourages her, teases her, is always careful with her.

Santiago is present when you need him to be. And he’s pretty sweet with you, too.

He takes the baby to give you an afternoon, spoils you with little surprises—from a gift card for a pedicure to your favorite candy bar.

You’d never thought that it would be like...This with him. You thought you’d raise the baby alone, and that Santiago would drop in every few years to see how the kid is doing, if that.

“...She’s sleeping better now,” You tell him when the baby is around five months old.

“Yeah.”

“So...” You bite your lip, watching him wash the dishes, “So you don’t have to...I mean—” You go quiet when he looks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean...” You avert your eyes as it seems to click with Santiago.

“I’ll stop crowding you,” he says.

“No! That’s not what I—I just, you’re paying rent for an apartment you’re, like, never at. It doesn’t seem fair to you, it’s a waste.”

“I deal with it.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean you should.” And it’s stupid to say, but—“So you should move in.”

Oh. No.

Santiago freezes for a second before he reaches out, shutting off the faucet.

“You sure about that?”

“Sure,” You offer, a little nervey, “I mean, I know it’s only five minutes away, but I’d miss you—She’d miss you, you know.”

Santiago turns to face you, and your heart thumps roughly in your chest.

“You would miss me?” He repeats.

“...Yeah,” You admit softly.

Santiago drops the dishtowel and crosses the kitchen. He cups your face and draws you in for a tender kiss.

It’s like an electric shock, it shoots right through you. Your eyes slip shut, and you raise your hands to grip his shirt tightly.

Santiago crowds your back against the counter, his hands wandering your body covetously.

You bite back a whimper, and then groan as the baby’s wails come through the baby monitor.

The two of you part, and Santiago takes a step back, muttering, “I’ve got her.”

You tug him back in before he can get far, planting another warm kiss on him before finally letting go. He grins at you as he goes.

You raise your hands to your face once he’s gone, hiding your own grin, and its softening when you hear Santiago’s voice through the monitor just a moment later.

#Santiago Garcia Imagine #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia headcanon #Pregnancy cw #pregnancy mention #Tw: pregnancy

703 notes · View notes

nights-nonsensical-ramblings · 4 days

Text

okay so I watched the knuckles series (by following the example of the pirates of course ) and I have to say while it was a very enjoyable watch, I have no clue what I watched and I’m mostly confused and have come away feeling mostly neutral. I don’t hate it, but it hasn’t dug its hooks in like other sonic things have for me.

Like some bits I very much enjoyed watching and would happily see again and others I couldn’t stand and dread the idea of watching again.

there were plenty of moments where Knuckles went against what I adore about him, and others that perfectly capture what I adore about him. Boy was so adorable though. Loved lots of the expressions he made.

okay I’m gonna get a bit more specific from here and cuz I got no clue what’s going on with the tagging and it gets long I’ll put it under a cut.

So it’s kinda hard for me to remember what happened, but I will say I love wades mother, she was amazing, loved her and Knuckles’ dynamic and would welcome it if she appeared again. (Also, new headcanon unlocked that knuckles is such a mamas boy he’s a magnet for motherly figures)

I really am not a fan of his sister Wanda tho. The childish sibling banter did entertain me at first (and made me think that knuckles was going to reflect on his relationship with his brothers) but it went on too long and just made Wanda feel like she never matured past being a bratty teenager. (And judging by what I’ve seen I think she’s gonna be on ‘top _ worst sonic characters’ lists for a while)

my opinion on Wade himself hasn’t really changed. I have no strong feelings towards the guy

We didn’t get as much as I wanted, but I loved the Wachowski family stuff. I needed so much more of knuckles being the trouble kid and the family trying to help.

It’s pretty annoying that the start of the show set up Knuckles learning to chill, be a kid on earth and settle in with his new family. Only to drop it basically immediately and the closest thing it has to a resolution is Knuckles finding his jam.

and yeah, I could see plenty of moments where they had the perfect opportunity to explore knuckles on a deeper level but chose not to. But I am glad they at least hinted at it with those expressions I keep raving about

On that. Cuz Pachacamacs appearance was what springboreded what was going on in a different direction. What is going on here? Is this a Knuckles thing? But Wade speaks to him to, but that was under knuckles’ guidance? I think? So can anyone in this world talk to spirits? Can only certain people be spirits? I mean. One Knuckles got over the initial shock he accepted the fact he was talking to a dead tribe member (I’m also sad that nothing was done with the idea that in this universe Knuckles and Pachacamac were alive at the same time) I got so many more questions on how spirits work in here, but I’m just gonna move on. (Although, maybe this sets up knuckles speaking to Tikal 👀. Or maybe his dad or even his mum.)

But considering what Pachacamac’s role is in the games making him so comedicly focused felt weird. Yeah this universe has different events. But still feels weird cuz of how we know Pachacamac.

I don’t even know what to say about the whole fire powers fire demon (who’s heavily implied to be iblis) I need way more time to think what is going on. Like does any of the pre existing lore apply? If so those are some WILD implications. If not, did that mean they just made this guy like iblis cuz it’s a fire creature that fans will recognize??

A minor thing but I can’t hear our house without thinking of the chemist warehouse add. And a few of the other songs are strongly associated with other things and I couldn’t help but think of them when they played. I don’t see this as a good or bad thing. It is just a thing.

hmm. I had more thoughts but after that ghost tangent I can’t really remember them. I guess I’ll have to come back later with another post if I get them back.

So, for now my closing thoughts are: it’s not a terrible show. Lots of writing choices I disagree with, but I don’t nessicaily think they’re bad. And there’s definitely enjoyment to be found (more if you watch it with some friends) but it’s not really to my taste. Especially with how much irs advertise as about knuckles and then not. Some moments made me very happy some made me want to nope out some I don’t even know.

congratulations to Wade fans, I’m gonna find what bits I wanna cherry pick and I’ll be on my merry way.

#knuckles the echidna #knuckles series #knuckles spoilers #knuckles wachowski #knuckles series spoilers #night’s sonic stuff #Night’s analysis

15 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Caving In [5]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 10,370

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, mention of torture, mentions of previous homelessness, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of bruises, a mention of a previous broken bone (Jason), mentions of abuse (nothing is in detail)

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: I know this a week late but I couldn’t edit this last week so here we are!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The rest of the night passed in a blur. You hung out with Gar until eleven. You just watched two of his favorite movies and he gushed about them the whole time. You were pretty excited to start training with Jason but watching movies Gar helped the time pass by a lot quicker. It didn’t even really feel like you watched two movies. And you even felt bad about bailing on a third movie when it got later but you knew you’d be late if the two of you started another one. You promised you’d continue the marathon tomorrow though and that seemed to please him. So, you went to your room and waited out the extra hour.

Apparently, everyone is normally in bed around midnight if there isn’t something going on. Rachel went to bed two hours ago and you haven’t seen Dick since he checked on you and Gar around 10:30. Gar’s door is shut and there isn’t a light coming from under the door when you exit your room. You’ve always been more of a night owl, it’s always been the one time when you could be completely alone. Even in Gotham, the streets were quieter at night. It almost felt peaceful even but as you walk down the hallways and into the living room, you spot Gar sitting on his laptop on the couch.

“H-hey?” You ask as you get closer. “What’re you doing up?”

Gar looks at you with raised brows. “Couldn’t sleep, you?” He vividly remembers you saying you were going to bed and you don’t look panicked as if you had a nightmare again.

“Same.” You lie with a nod. “Walking sometimes helps.” You don’t like lying, but sometimes it has to be done. You want to trust him to not say anything, but you’re not really sure if you can. For all you know, he’ll run right to Dick and tell on you and Jason before training even starts.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Gar’s hand goes to the top of the laptop as if to be ready to shut it.

You almost say yes because you like his company but this is a secret between you and Jason. Gar doesn’t seem like the type to disobey authority. You don’t want to drag him into a mess you and Jason are potentially causing for the next week or so. What he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’m okay.” You say. “Thank you though, I’m just gonna….walk a bit but I’ll come get you if I change my mind.” Gar nods, understandingly, looking a little sad but confused by it. You didn’t decline after last night’s nightmare but you are now. He isn’t sure why, he feels like there’s something going on but it’s also none of his business so he doesn’t say anything.

You finish your walk to the training room, putting your guilt about lying to Gar in the back of your head. When you enter the room, Jason is right there, waiting. A part of you thought maybe he’d still be mad and stand you up. It’s a pleasant surprise that he’s actually here.

“Midnight.” You wiggle your phone, the screen lights up at Jason.

“Cutting it close.” Jason taunts with a mocking grin.

“Shut up.” You shake your head, walking up to him. “Where do we start?”

A chuckle leaves Jason’s throat, amused by your eagerness. Finally, someone else who gets it. “Have you ever punched someone?”

“A few times.” You shrug. “It wasn’t really my thing.” You scrunch your nose.

“How wasn’t it your thing?” Jason questions, his brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” Your eyes go left and then right, trying to figure out what he’s so confused about. Some people don’t like to punch other people in the face.

“Seems like you'd be into hitting people.” Jason chortles.

Your survival instincts is actually why he thinks that. The whole dealing with torture for a year thing, living on the streets of Gotham, your overall detached sarcastic attitude, it all makes him think you wouldn't be afraid to throw the first punch.

“Rude. No,” You shake your head with a laugh. “Like I said, people didn’t hate me and I wasn’t one to throw a punch. I talk a lot of shit for someone who’s only been in a handful of fistfights.” You shift your weight. “And….close hand-to-hand combat is a bit sketchy. Shit starts going south, you’re fucked. I threw knives.” You state nonchalantly, watching Jason's face contort in surprise. "People fear knives, everyone thinks they stand a chance in a fistfight."

Jason's brows knit together, trying to piece all of this together. “Knives???? And how did you manage that?” He didn't see that coming.

You shrug. “Guy at one of the shelters, he taught street kids how to defend themselves. Self defense and he had a thing for knives.”

Jason lets out this booming laugh, his head tilting back. “Yeah, uh, Knife Guy? Like, that’s what he was called, right? Shelter by the library?”

“Yeah,” You let out a shy laugh. “Yeah, white hair, scar across his left eye?”

There’s this feeling in the pit of your stomach you can’t identify knowing that Jason knows who you’re talking about. The guy had been around for years according to his stories and rumors. So, of course Jason would know who he is. But, it’s still weird because had any of yours and Jason’s circumstances changed within a year of each other, you likely would have run into each other. You wonder if you would have hated him or been too infatuated with him to focus on anything else if that had been the case. You settle on the feeling being bitterness.

“Yeah, that’s the guy.” Jason gives you this understanding smile. “Okay, so he taught you knives and how to punch?”

Jason didn't care much for the guy. He didn't really know what he was doing, even before Jason's training he knew that. But, it was better than nothing. Time and time again, Jason witnessed other kids who got picked up by dealers, by other kids, by scarier adults. A lot of kids knew to just start screaming bloody murder and it'd scare off the person because it draws too much attention, usually. But, other times, some sort of defense was needed and no one else was helping. Something is better than nothing, that's what Jason thinks anyway. But, the knives, the guy had a thing for that and he rarely ever missed.

“Kind of.” You shrug. "It was mostly knife work I learned from him. Let's be honest, him and the library are the only reason anyone actually goes to that shelter willingly." You grimaces. The staff kind of sucks there. They aren't very nice and the food is somehow worse at that shelter. But, beggars can't be choosers.

Jason walks over to the table containing throwing knives. He picks one up and flips the blade towards him, offering you the handle. “Let’s see what you got then.”

You smirk at him and it’s been a while. You’re not very confident in your ability to hit a target but you won’t let Jason know that.

“I am rusty, so remember that.” You chuckle, taking the knife from him and walking in front of the target. You aim as you were taught, realizing your vision is still a bit compromised but you take the throw anyway. It sticks at the very bottom of the target. “Well, fuck.” You groan.

“Not a sharpshooter that’s for sure.” Jason chuckles.

“Give me another!” You spin, glaring at him. Jason does as told and you spin around, arming again and this time, it’s closer but still far off from the bullseye.

“Least you get it on the target, I guess.” Jason teases you. “Maybe you should get some hand-to-hand in, might do you better.”

“Fuck off!” You grow annoyed and you were never a sharpshooter but this is ridiculous. You should be closer, at least. It’s why you chose the knives. You’re better at it but this is not it. You won’t let Jerry take this away from you either. “Give me another one.” Jason hands another one over, crossing his arms. He is a little impressed with you making it on the target. He can tell by how you move your arm, it hurts. It’s shaky when you pull back and you step into it with a shaky leg. That’s why you’re missing but Jason lets you throw again before saying anything. This one is worse than the first one. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You groan, throwing your head back.

“Did you want some advice now? I mean, we can do this all night. It’s pretty funny but I could help.”

You stare straight ahead, rolling your eyes before turning to face him. "Enlighten me."

"You're in pain and you gotta fight through it." Jason picks up a knife, spinning it in his hands as if to show off. "Go faster. Stop thinking so hard about it. You always think that much? Cause, if you're in a fight, you don't get that."

"No!" You yells to defend yourself. "Of course, not but I haven't done it in a while and yeah, it’s kind of painful." Usually, when you were to throw a knife, there wasn’t a lot of thought, not after a while. Your eyes and arms just worked together. Again, it’s not that you were a sharpshooter or anything, but your movements were fluid and you usually hit whatever you were trying to, even if it wasn’t a perfect target. But, this is different. It feels like you’re starting over in a way because hitting this stationary target that isn’t even that far away should have been easier.

"So?" Jason challenges you. "It should be like getting on a bike." His eyes widen as he stands toe to toe with you, dangling the knife. "Just throw it." His grin is taunting and you keep your eyes narrowed at him.

You take the knife from him and does what he says. You don't think about it and just spin around, throwing the knife just as it comes into view. The knife sticks just a few inches from the bullseye and you get this smile on your face that’s drenched in pride and relief while Jason's is proud.

He can’t help the way his heart skips a beat with the smile on your face or with the way you spin back around, confidence oozing from you. Your eyes are bright and this is the first time you look genuinely happy. Jason’s stomach flips as you eye him with pride and in the moment, a subconscious part of him swears he never wants to see you anything but happy and proud.

"See? Stop thinking so fucking much." Jason chortles, brushing off the bubbles in his stomach.

"That how you function?" You quip, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason shrugs. "Working pretty well." He spreads his arms out. "Robin."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You let out a sigh.

He has a point. But, you hope that maybe he'll be really good at this training. But, you both can stick it to Dick and maybe it'll be a way, in a roundabout kind of way, for Jason to show Dick what he can do. Maybe that'll be enough for Bruce. You can train carefully but successfully. You think it should be enough because while you have so far been enjoying his company, the way he just beams like the morning sun when he mentions Robin, you want him to be able to get back to that. You don’t have to know him in depth or for very long to know he deserves it.

"No bad though." Jason nods his head at you.

"Was that a compliment?" You wiggle your brows at him.

"Yeah, fuck off." Jason chuckles softly as he looks to the floor and back to you. "Alright, you wanna do that or you wanna fight?"

"Fight." You answer, the smile falling from your face as you nod at him once. You'll get back into knife throwing when you can train with everyone else. You were always better at it.

Jason walks to the center of the floor, you following him but keeping your distance. "Do you do know how to punch someone?"

"Assume so." You shrug. "Knife Guy did teach me that."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Show me."

You hesitate but walk towards him anyway and make a fist and punch him lightly in the arm. Jason bursts out laughing and you can't be serious.

"That's a joke, right?"

"I don't want to actually p--"

"I can't train you if I don't know if you can even punch someone. Aren't you still mad at me from earlier?" Jason questions. He was sure you’d be okay with a friendly sparring session. He didn’t think you were actually someone who didn’t like to punch people.

You shrug a shoulder. "I don't have many grudges."

"Start, it'll help." Jason quips, there’s a roughness to his voice and you wonder what grudges he’s hiding. "Just fucking hit me, it's not like it's gonna be worse than anything I've had before."

You roll your eyes but do as he says, actually putting some force into it and Jason just blinks at you. He can't tell if you just don't know what you’re doing or if you’re weak as a person or if being malnourished has made you weak and that's why you suck at this. You’re going to be a part of the team and he's gotta get you to be stronger than this if your powers aren't going to be fool proof like Dick likes to think.

"That's pathetic." Jason nods.

"Thank you. I used to pride myself in not being very violent." You scoff.

"You're a Titan." Jason almost pleads.

"That's why I'm here so you can teach me to be more violent and actually kick ass. I'm not who I was before. I said used to." You only acted in self defense, life or death, scared situations. But, you want to be ready for anything. Act first, think later kind of mentality from now on.

For a second, Jason wonders if this is a good idea. He wasn't a super violent person before Robin either. He's had his share of fistfights, of course, nothing on this planet will get Jason to shut the fuck up and people don't normally find it charming. He had no choice. It's always kill or be killed. But being Robin gave him a free pass to kick ass. Sure, the criminals all deserved it and it was mostly under the watchful eye of Bruce, but it was a free pass and maybe some of that went to his head like when he beat up a bunch of cops when he was helping Dick. Does he want to put someone else through that? Is that what Dick meant with all that talk about not being Robin? Jason can't imagine another life, sure he fights more but it's also the most himself he's ever felt and there's a sense of feeling complete being Robin. Maybe that's just one of the consequences of finding yourself, losing a part of yourself.

"I'm also injured." You continue. "I could punch harder if it didn't hurt."

"Okay. I'm gonna teach you how to throw a punch and a proper kick then we're gonna spar." Jason explains, earning raised brows from you. "So, I can see what you can do and what you can't right now. It'll be easier for me to figure shit out, not gonna push you too far."

"Alright." You agree. "Show me, then."

Jason walks you over to the punching bag and takes your hand in his and you can't help but notice the difference between how his hand feels compared to Gar's. It's cold, more calloused. It's rough like all he does is beat his fists into things which by the looks of the fading bruises on his knuckles, that is all he does.

He makes a fist with your hand and then stands behind you, using his feet to move yours in a proper position. His hands are on your hips and there's a second where his heart stutters. He convinces himself it’s because he just doesn’t want to get caught and you’re just starting. It’s not because his hands are on your hips and you look over your shoulder at him with nothing but endearment.

Your stomach flips under his touch and you don't know what the flipping in your stomach is. You can't even tell if you like it. It's different than the flipping with Gar because this feels....like adrenaline. It's a rush like running through the streets at night, the sky cloudy and the air muggy but something feels so good about it. Refreshing even. But Gar is a calming and comforting flip, butterflies even. He's the safety of a house after being out late at night, where the bed is the most welcoming place on earth. Jason makes you want to go skydiving, something you'd never do in a million years and Gar makes you want to curl up by a fire with hot chocolate and a pet dog.

"You're gonna wanna move your hips when you punch, gives you more momentum, stronger punch." Jason explains as he walks in front of you.

"Like this?" You throw a punch and the bag moves.

"Yeah, like that." Jason gives you a soft and proud smile, something you never thought you'd see coming from him. "Keep going but try putting more force into, as much as you can."

You do as you’re told and Jason gives a few pointers here and there on your form. But overall, you aren't doing too bad given your lack of experience and it makes Jason feel important. It's the first time since leaving Bruce that he feels important. Someone needs him. It's for fighting, but needs him nonetheless and he's doing a good job helping you. It feels really good. And after a few minutes of you hitting the bag, he feels it's time to show you how to kick properly without breaking a toe.

Jason does a few examples and you always thought the kicks of any type of fighting look so ridiculous when there isn't a person at the receiving end. Jason makes them look a little less ridiculous though and you follow his lead. You try to do what he does and he tells you what you’re doing wrong and what you’re doing right. He's surprisingly good at constructive criticism. Dick might not like what Bruce turned him and Jason into but as far as you’re concerned, they were taught well otherwise Jason wouldn't have any idea what constructive criticism even is and would just be badgering you about what you’re doing wrong.

"So," Jason starts as you grab a drink of water after a few rounds of kicks and punching bag hits. "How's this gonna work with your whole...combat thing you do?" Jason asks. "Because part of this is teaching you how to block but if you can dodge everything already?"

You shrug. "I can try to ignore it?" You offer.

"Is that something you can actually fucking do?" Jason quips with a chuckle.

"I don't fucking know." You laugh. "Probably, I did for a while with Jerry."

It’s not something easy to ignore. It’s kind of like trying to ignore a raging migraine. It doesn’t hurt but it’s throbbing and it’s annoying. But, you’ve done it before in a far worse situation. Jason, you know he’s not gonna hurt you. This is just training, some (Jason) might even say this is just fun. So, you think ignoring it might be helpful for right now but you swear you can’t make a habit of it.

The acid is one thing, it’s not something you like very much but the combat clairvoyance is nice. It’s useful and no one would ever know that’s what it is. But a part of you worries that if you ignore it enough, it won’t be as effective. The last thing you want is to be stuck with powers and then the one you like to not even work properly because you spent too much time ignoring it.

Jason nods. "Right. Alright, well, I won't actually try to hit you hard." Jason huffs but there's still a smile pulling at his lips. "Not a fair fight."

"Ha-ha." You mock. "No, that's fair." You laughs softly.

"You just have to block me, that's it." Jason shrugs as if it’s the easiest sentence he’s ever said. Something tells you blocking Jason isn’t going to be that easy even with him not trying very hard.

"Okay." You rest your water bottle down and follow Jason to the center of the room.

Jason takes position and you mimic what he's doing, not really understanding the purpose but roll with it anyway. It gains you a smirk and a head shake from Jason before he asks if you’re ready. You nod and Jason moves towards you, the sparring starting.

You feel the throbbing of the back of your head with Jason coming at you. It's throbbing and aching, a constant state of feeling like someone waking you up banging pots and pans right against your ears but you push through it. Ignoring the signals from the back of your head, you use your arms to block him to the best of your ability. It's not much actually but you saw him spar with Gar and Rachel earlier, he's holding back a lot. He's slower and there's almost no strength in his punches or his kicks. He's being careful not to hurt you and there's something really nice and reassuring about it. He just wants to help. But then you miss one of the blocks as Jason's leg comes up, connecting with your right flank.

You let out a scream and drop to the floor, holding your side. Jason stands in shock, questioning how it hurt that bad because he swears he didn't kick you hard, it was more of just a tap.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Jason moves to his knees in front of you, you hunching over, fighting back tears as the stinging intensifies.

Your eyes are slammed shut with your forehead pressed against the floor but you give him a thumbs up. "Fine, I...I'm...I'm fine."

"I-I'm sorry." Jason mumbles. "I didn't--" His hand is hovering over your shoulder, not sure what to do or how he can help.

"Not your fault." You cut him off, your words sharp and short, not mad. "Fuck." You look up to him, your eyes a little red.

"Let me see--"

"No." You shake your head. "It's fine...I just...need....a minute." Your words are breathy as the pain makes your heart race.

"Y/n, I'm really sorry." Jason apologizes with sad eyes wreaking of guilt.

"It's a bruise, not your fault, didn't tell you how bad." You mumble, as you try regain your breath, the pain fading just a bit.

"How fucking bad is that bruise? It should be getting better by now." Jason's voice raises with touches of anger and worry.

He's pissed you didn't tell him how bad the bruise still was. He still would have helped you but he would have minded his kicks and punches a lot more. He would have avoided that side. You were going easy enough that it would have been simple for him. He'd never hurt you on purpose. And he can only assume it's the boot print. It's the one bruise you specifically mentioned and bruises in the shape of boot are usually pretty bad and linger but he thought you'd tell him if it were that bad.

You suck in a breath as the stinging fades a bit more. "Pretty bad, I guess." You mutter. "Didn't think it'd be a big deal."

"That worked out real fucking well." Jason groans. You dodge his eyes and Jason feels guilty. It's not really his fault but you just wanted to train. If anyone would understand that, it's him.

You go quiet for a second and you feel bad but you’re just desperate. Being hurt makes your feel weaker and you hate feeling weak. You know that it's okay not feel completely okay and take time to heal an injury but you just don't think you have that kind of time. It's terrifying knowing Jerry is still out there, even if he stands no chance against the Titans. It doesn't matter because he's out there probably living his best life and you just want to live yours.

"I-I'm sorry." You mutter out, still dodging Jason's eyes. "I-I...I, uh, I don't like feeling weak and, ya know?" Your brows furrow. "Um..." Your jaw clenches. "Telling you how bad it is, it's just admitting it to myself and I don't...I don't want to do that." Your eyes finally lock on Jason's and his heart sinks.

He lets out a sigh and rests his forearm on his knee. "You're not weak, alright? Some dickwad did that to you, alright?" He shakes his head and something about you make it really easy to open up. It's easy for him to open to Gar because Gar doesn't judge. He just lets him talk and that's kind of what you do but you offer this sense of genuine understanding, even with stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile. You're plenty different but on the surface you're so similar Jason finds it easy to talk to you. "I got hurt once, as Robin." Jason states.

"What happened?" You ask.

Jason's jaw clenches. "I didn't listen to Bruce, it got me a little hung out." Jason explains. "I broke my collarbone. It sucked because had I listened to Bruce it wouldn't have happened and then he benched me until it was healed, obviously." Jason scoffs as if to still be mad about it and you have a hunch he's madder about not being able to be Robin than he is about the broken bone. "I tried to train with it broken though." Jason lets out a laugh. "Bruce caught me and it got fucking ugly, he was pissed." There's a simple smile on Jason's face. "So, I get it, alright? But, if you don't tell me, I can't help you. I know how fucking keen you are to tell people shit, but this would help."

"Thanks, Jay." You say and Jason's heart flutters, no one's ever called him that before. He likes it when you say it. You let out a sigh and decide to show him the bruise. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Do promises mean something to you?" Jason asks, his voice slightly snarky.

"Yeah, of course. All we have is our word. They don't mean anything to you?"

Too many people have promised Jason things over the years and none of those promises ever worked. His dad promised he'd be there for him, always, because his mom was down and out. Then he was an idiot working with Two-Face and got himself killed. His uncle promised to take care of him and then drank himself to death. Cops promised he'd be okay but he hasn't felt okay a day in his life, not until he put on the Robin suit but that was because of Bruce and because Jason took his life into his own hands. And now it's been tugged away from him. Social workers promised they'd find a really good home for him. They didn't. Teachers promised they would help but they gave up on him. No one's ever been up to the task of really and truly helping him but they all promised they would. They all promised he wouldn't be alone. So, no, Jason Todd doesn't believe in promises.

"No." He scoffs, keeping it short. "People say they promise just to get shit from you."

Your eyes are sad and your heart breaks for him. You don't really know him all that well but you know everyone else is wrong about him. You can tell. No one gives him a chance to be good but you will. You don't trust anyone either, not after everything. It's so easy to break trust and nearly impossible to get it back but you want to trust people again and you want Jason to trust people, trust you. You trust him.

"I won't make a promise to you I can't keep or make a promise just to get something from you." Your voice is small, filled with candor but you keep your eyes locked on Jason's and suddenly it all feels a little too real for him. He feels like you’ve put him under a microscope and is looking for signs of a deadly disease.

"That a promise?" Jason quips back, a bite in his voice but you don't take the bait.

"Promise." You nod your head just once. "I keep my promises. I've never broken a single one."

You’re this puzzle he can't figure out, something of a Rubix cube. He doesn't understand why you even care. You don't even know him but you treat him better than people who've known him his entire life. A part of him even thinks it's some sort of prank, he's waiting for the cameras to come out and say he's being Punk'd. But, your eyes are sincere and warm and welcoming. He drown into you if you'd let him.

"Alright," Jason sucks in a breath. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

You shift carefully so your flank is facing Jason. You lift up your shirt just enough to show him the bruise. Jason's jaw nearly drops as his brows furrow and pain shoots through his entire body. The bruise is, in fact, a boot. He can see the tread and he thinks about old episodes of CSI and how they'd use shoe prints to pin the killer. He swears they could do that with this shoot print because it's so vivid and he wants to know how you didn't have any internal bleeding over it. The whole bruise is dark. It looks agonizing and maybe Dick was right about you not training.

"Shit." Jason lets out a breath as you pull your shirt down and face him.

"Yeah...it kind of hurts."

"No, shit." Jason huffs. "That's..." Jason pauses he swears that he would hunt down Jerry himself right now if it weren't for you sitting in front of him. "I hope you get to hunt him the fuck down one day." His jaw is clenched and it makes you smile.

"Yeah, you and me both." You let out a half-laugh half-scoff.

Jason lets out this dry laugh, his blood boiling. It's just not fair and Jason knows life isn't fair but it should be for you. "I'm serious, I'll hunt him down if you don't want to."

You give him a large smile. "I appreciate it but he's my battle. It's why I don't why you tell Dick. I'll find him one day."

"You'll have the best training in the world." Jason holds his head up high giving you a cocky grin. "I'll make sure the fuck doesn't stand a chance against you."

You almost forgot what it's like to have someone so protective of you. The only person who was ever like that was your mom but it never resorted to something like this. It was just that one time with your dad showing up and the usual things like defending you against nosy soccer moms or putting her arm across you when she had to slam on the brakes in the car too quickly. This is different because Jason doesn't know you but he'd protect you anyway.

"As I said, you're not so bad, Jason Todd." You grin at him.

"Told ya, I'm the best." Jason boasts.

"Yeah, I'll give it to you...this one time." You laugh softly.

"It won't be the last, babe." Jason quips and you roll your eyes. If it were anyone else, the arrogance that radiates off him like bad cologne would be annoying. But, it’s cute on him.

"Mhm, whatever you say, BaBe." You mock him, widening your eyes.

Jason lets out a laugh and you think he's cute when he laughs. You wish he did it more. "Alright, come on." Jason moves to your left side and pulls your arm, putting it around his neck. "We're gonna some ice on it before it gets worse."

You look up at him. "You're not mad, are you?" He doesn't seem mad anymore but you just want to make sure.

"No." Jason shakes his head. "But can you fucking tell me next time?"

"You got it, boss." You give him a thumbs up, standing up with him and wincing with the movement of getting to your feet.

the two of you start your walk, opting to remain quiet this time. You feel safe with him. His grip is tight around you, but not too tight. He’s holding you close to him and you swear he’s probably the safest person in the world. Jason, though, he just feels understood. He thinks if he offered to help Rachel, he wouldn’t but if did, she’d cringe or make some nasty comment about it. But, you, it’s like you just get it and of course, Gar gets it, too. The two of you understand him better than anyone ever has. In this moment, Jason swears to himself that if it comes down to it, the people he’d save over anything and everyone, including himself, are you and Gar.

With every step, you wince and you’re starting to understand why Dick wanted you to wait. You'll never admit that he was right because you’re too prideful for that but you get it now because this pain is horrendous. You knew it would hurt if you got hit but you highly underestimated just how much. And because that wasn't bad enough, Gar is still planted on the couch when the two of you enter the living room. Jason and you freeze for a second as Gar makes eye contact with you.

Busted.

"What are you...what...what happened?" Gar gets up from his seat as concern coats his words, you and Jason just standing there, at a loss for words. "Are you okay?" Gar asks you before looking to Jason and then back to you.

"I'm fine, Gar." You pull your arm away from Jason's neck and make your way to the couch, favoring your right side. Gar follows you while Jason goes to the freezer for an icepack.

Gar sits on the coffee table in front of you. "He didn't....?" Gar asks, knowing full well that Jason would never but needed some type of reassurance.

You sigh knowing you can't hide everything from him, he already knows too much and if he goes to Dick about it, this whole thing will blow up more. You do not want to get anyone in trouble.

"You can't tell Dick, okay?" You ask and Gar nods while Jason comes back, handing the ice pack to you as he takes a seat on the coffee table in front of you. "Jason is helping me train since Dick won't let me yet."

"That's stupid." Gar states, mostly referring to the both of you teaming up to do this. Dick just has your best interests at heart and Jason should know that better than anyone.

"That's what I said." Jason adds in.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You agreed to it." You mutter. "I neglected to tell him about a bruise and he tapped it."

"Tapped?" Gar questions.

"Swear, I barely touched her."

"Yeah," You shrug. "It's just, uh, it's pretty bad, I guess." You look down before looking at Jason as if begging him not to tell Gar further details about it. You want to spare him the sight of it. "It's a shoe print so." You clear your throat.

"Holy shit." Gar mumbles, shaking his head.

"Yeah," You suck in a breath. "I thought it'd be fine but it is not. The others are healing fine, a little faster than I expected actually but this one is just taking a little longer, I guess." You shrug your shoulders. "So, it was just an accident."

Gar sits for a second, obviously, he knew it was bad. He looks at your face every day. But a vivid shoe print on your side seems to have crossed a line he didn't know he even had. He's pissed and Gar isn't someone that gets pissed often. How can someone do this to you? You’ve got a smartass mouth but that's not a reason to do that to someone. It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, no one deserves that and there's a part of him that almost wants to hunt the guy down.

Jason, on the hand, kind of wants you to show Gar. As he said, whatever Gar imagines is going to be worse than what it actually is. And Jason knows from first had experience that Gar isn't going to make it weird or anything. He'll just be understanding and maybe even he'll want to find the guy. But, Gar would actually understand more why you want to train. However, Jason isn't going to say anything. He promised.

"Okay," You nod your head finding the silence and wide eyes from Gar a bit uncomforting. "You're making it a little weird."

"Sorry." Gar apologizes, shaking his head. "It's just pretty messed up."

"It's fucked." Jason locks a knowing stare with you, matching the conversation you had the night before. "Piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk around free."

"We're not going after him, Dick will kill us." Gar protests though, if Jason or you went after him, he can't blame either of you. Even before knowing about this bruise, he wouldn't have blamed you.

"No one is going after him." You state. "If anyone were going to, it would be me. I said I don't hold many grudges. This isn't a grudge, it's vengeance, karma. Eye for an eye. My eye for an eye, no one else's. But the plan is not to seek him out, just be prepared if he seeks me out."

"Is that why you're training?" Gar asks.

"Gotta be prepared." You dodge his stare and Gar gets you wanting to search the tower a little more now. You’re fully convinced he'll come looking for you if he finds out you’re alive. If you’re alive and you start telling people what happened and who did it, he'll be fucked.

"The guy still deserves the same shit he did to you and then some." Jason remarks.

"Yeah, well, he's also not my fucking problem." It’s harsh but it’s also true. It’s very fresh and maybe in a few months, you’ll feel differently about it. But, for right now, he is not your problem. He isn’t your problem unless he comes looking for you.

Gar's attention snaps back to you with the comment. "What if he does it to someone else?" Gar asks, almost feeling like siding with Jason.

You shake your head. "I'm not seeking him out. I spent a year trying to escape and I won't risk it again." You’re being candid with the two of them and you don't feel too bad about it, actually. The both of them together make it easier. Gar has the calmness and level-headedness you need whereas Jason is the hot-headed one that you prefer in conversations like this, probably because you like the idea of killing Jerry. "I'm not...trying to be a bitch but.....did you do anything about that doctor?"

Gar shakes his head. "But he didn't do that," He gestures toward you. "To any of us. This is different."

"I guess." You shrug, readjusting the ice pack. "Look, I don't want anyone to know how bad it was, okay? I tell you two because I happen to really like the both of you and talking to you. I don't want anyone else to know how bad shit got, alright? Any of it, okay?" You plead with them and Jason nods along, he doesn't like people knowing the deep and dirty secrets his heart carries either.

"Why not?" Gar asks. "If Dick knows, he can help catch him."

Of course, to some extent, he can understand it. It's something that's hard to talk about. Talking about trauma is never easy. He remembers Jason finally breaking down and telling him stuff, he did in a very matter-of-fact way which just made Gar worry about him. But, after a little bit, Jason had a real conversation about it and why he doesn't like to talk about. It makes it real, people look at him differently. You and Jason are so much alike it seems that Gar wonders if that's how you feel about it, too. If so, he wishes you didn't because talking and letting people in, does help. Gar would know.

You admire Gar's endless optimism but you’re a glass-half-empty kind of person. "You know how people say trauma makes you strong?" Gar nods. "It doesn't, it just desensitizes you. Not feeling anything is not a strength, it's a weakness. Being terrified of sleeping and letting your guard down for more than a minute, that's not strength. I will not look weak to anyone, ever again so fucking help me." Your stare is harsh and your mouth is pressed into a straight line.

Listening to someone say they don't feel anything besides a sense of fear and paranoia, it's not something Gar has heard before even if that is how someone has felt. He can't imagine the kind of pain must put someone through. He didn't really get it until now and maybe now he understands why it was easy for you to talk to Jason. Jason seems like he doesn't feel much, Gar seems like he feels too much. He gets why you don't want anyone to know, as much as it pains him, he'll swear he won't tell anyone.

"Okay." Gar nods.

"Thanks, guys." You suck in a breath. "I'll be fine, like, really. It'll fade and one day I'll be okay but I'm not close to that yet." You show some slight optimism.

You aren't sure you believe the words you said or not but looking at the concerned faces of both boys, you felt like you needed to say something. You don't want them thinking you’re about to jump off a building or something because that's not it either. You do feel safe here and while you aren't sure if you'll recover from everything, you do know there's a chance if you’re here with these two because they make life after the trauma look appealing and fun again. They make it look like you can move past it, either in a heroic, aggressive way or in a happy-go-lucky way. They make it seem possible and that's all you really need.

"If I ever see him though," Jason starts, not thrilled with the idea of letting this piece of shit just be free. Maybe that's the issue with being a Titan for him, he wants the fight and Dick won't let him. At least Bruce let him fight. "I'll kill him."

"How do you even know what he looks like?" You ask, narrowing your eyes and you catch Gar stiffen in front to you as Jason’s eyes glance to Gar. "Oh my gosh, did you like, Google me or whatever?"

"No, we didn't fucking Google you." Jason quips, his eyes slightly narrowed. They did not Google you.

"Research me? Using some type of Wayne tech?" You retort. "You know what I mean."

"Well..." Jason gains this sly smirk and he's not all that apologetic about it. There's not a doubt in his mind if the roles were reversed, you would have done it, too.

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't here to kill us." Gar says apologetically.

"Wait, so, you guys knew this whole time and didn't say anything?"

"We're sorry." Gar apologizes for the both of them while Jason just shrugs. Gar gives him a dirty look.

"Sorry we ran your blood through the computer." Jason's tone is almost mocking, he isn't all that sorry about it. He feels a little bad about the invasion of privacy, especially since you did actually tell him what happened. But, it was for the safety of the Titans, or so he tells himself.

Your face contorts and you can't really tell if you want to be mad about it or not. On the one hand, that's an invasion of privacy. Did Dick also do that? Is that why he's so trusting? But, on the other hand, you would have done the same thing and getting mad would just make you a hypocrite. Though you have questions about why they were so confident to use your blood. But, that’s an entirely different thing to unpack that, in all honesty, you didn't even wanna know.

"I...okay." You shake your head, choosing to move on from it. "So...why didn't you guys just say you knew?"

It's Gar who shrugs and speaks up before Jason can have some sarcastic quip. "We didn't want you to know and make you uncomfortable and we weren't really sure what happened. That's not actually in the file."

"We figured." Jason says, looking away from you.

"Ahh." You say. "Anyone else with you two?"

Gar shakes his head. "Just us." Gar clears his throat. "Rachel, knew though. We didn't tell her anything though."

"Hmm." Your eyes narrow for just a quick second. Rachel knew the boys were going to look up who you are and didn't tell you? Alright then. But, you don't say anything about it. Gar is at least her friend so maybe she didn't want to throw him under the bus for someone she doesn't even know. "Well, since you already took it upon yourselves to look into me," You suck in a breath. "Anything you actually want to know that I haven't said already?"

Gar looks at Jason and they're both almost certain this is some sort of trap. They're not entirely sure how but it has to be. You can't possibly be open to just discussing whatever questions they have about anything prior to coming here. You haven't been that open about anything. But Jason takes it as a challenge, if it's a trap, he'll walk right into it.

"How'd you end up in the system?" Jason asks, jerking his head up slightly. He kind of assumes it's the whole breaking into cars thing but he's curious.

"Busted breaking into a car because no one told me that hubcaps were the smarter option." You give Jason a joking glare, your voice holding tints of sarcasm. "I fucking tripped, can you believe that? Pavement was slick and I slipped." You let out a laugh.

When it happened, it was definitely not funny. It was disappointing and you felt like a failure. But, tonight, there's a part of it that you find funny. You ran those streets a million times in the pouring rain and never had any issues but that one night, you slipped. It's so dumb.

"Fell from a fence." Jason laughs.

"You guys tried to escape from the system?" Gar looks between the two of you. Of course, seeing what you’ve been through so far, he gets it but the entire system can't possibly be like that.

"Fuck yes." You and Jason say simultaneously.

"Clearly," You continue. "I had the right idea."

"Yeah, foster care is a fucking joke even if it's not as bad as what's his face." Jason shakes his head. He's had his fair share of time spent in foster homes and most of them weren't that bad. But, it wasn't the best time of his life either.

"Assuming you never got the lovely experience?" You ask Gar.

Gar shakes his head. "I went with Dr. Cauldon when I got better after he fixed me."

You offer him a sweet smile. "You're lucky." You clear your throat. "Uh, I mean, there are a lot of foster homes and stuff that aren't bad, of course, right? I mean, I met someone who ended up in a really good home. It's just..." You scrunch your face, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"Do you want to take the risk in ending up in a bad one?" Jason asks the rhetorical question, finishing your thought.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Yeah, I knew a few people who ended up fine in their foster homes. So, it's not horrible but when it treats you like shit..." Jason turns his head at Gar.

"You turn a little bitter towards the system as a whole because the system should be in place to protect us. But, I was better off on the streets." You set the ice pack on the couch beside you. "So, I mean, you're lucky you didn't have to navigate it."

"I'm seeing that." Gar lets out a breath.

Lucky was never a word Gar would have used to describe himself. His parents die of a mysterious disease, he also gets the mysterious disease and the only way to survive was through a weird doctor. Then, he gets better and he's not even allowed to leave the manor. Of course, he did anyway but he wasn't supposed to. It's not like it was horrible at Doom Manor or anything because it wasn't but it also wasn't freedom or very fun. It was just existing to Gar and he never considered that to be lucky, not until meeting the Titans anyway. They've all had pretty horrible lives, actually, the more Gar thinks about it.

“So, any other questions?" You ask, mostly looking at Gar.

He has one but he's not sure if it's really appropriate. He mostly just wants to know what happened before Dick found you. Did Jerry really just leave you there alive and if so, why? Did he actually think you were dead? He's just curious how it all happened, he's glad it did but he wonders. On the other hand though, he doesn't want this to get uncomfortable or weird, although you seem to be comfortable with Jason asking questions.

"Did, uh, he really just leave you in that alley?" Gar asks.

"Uh..." You stutter, brows furrowed. You don't have much memory of it, actually. "It's kind of hard to remember." You suck in a breath and suddenly you’re nervous. Something about Gar asking makes you nervous, maybe it's because even when Jason is serious, you have a hard time taking him seriously where Gar, despite the quirkiness and softness and smiles, when he asks, he always seems serious. "I tried to come up with a plan for awhile to escape but I was always chained up and I didn't get to develop super strength or anything. Um....so...." You shake your head, wishing you had a hoodie on suddenly, feeling too exposed. "I figured it was do or die at some point." Your head hangs and you remember the day you made your decision.

It was a regular day for you, chained in the basement and injected with something new. Jerry got mad and that led to the same old situation. This time though, it broke you. There wasn’t anything different about it but it broke you. The exhaustion had finally set in and you were tired. You knew you’d give up soon, you could feel it in your blood so you hatched a half-assed plan.

"Let me preface this by saying that I didn't want to die, not really. I was just exhausted from it all and I needed to get out of there because he was gonna kill me at some point." You state looking between the boys and you feel the mental fatigue deep in your brain like a permanent virus just waiting to be activated again. "I-I decided I'd piss him off real bad one day." You say through gritted teeth, Gar and Jason hung onto every word.

The energy has shifted. It always felt light-hearted despite the seriousness of the discussion. You were joking and so was Jason, Gar giving you looks of disbelief but this is not that. Sometimes what the mind can do to someone is worse than anything someone else can physically cause.

"I knew he'd get really mad and one of two things would happen. One: either he would kill me and I'd be out of my fucking misery."

Gar winces at the thought, that's what you thought about? Having him kill you? And Jason can't fathom it. No amount shit he's been through has pushed him that far. He knew, of course, because you told him but it was very casual. This story while the same as the singular sentence you said about it, feels drastically different and far more upsetting than it did before.

"Or two: he'd beat me so bad he'd think I was dead and dump me somewhere." You tilt your head to the right. "It was risky and not calculated but to be honest, I did not give a flying fuck what would happen. Guess, he thought I was dead and now I'm here." You shrug. "I got good at staying calm so I didn't fight back. In a way, I supposed I faked my death." You scoff as you roll your eyes.

The room falls silent as you finish and you feel like you said way too much. You didn't mean to go that in-depth about it but you kept looking at Gar and his sad eyes and you just couldn't help it. He wanted honesty and you couldn't not give it to him, not with the look on his face. But, now you regret it because the look of sorrow on his face feels like it's going to be permanent when he looks at you and that's the last thing you wanted. And even Jason is just silent. The kid is literally never silent. He just said what you did was badass last night but apparently giving context, changes the attitude about it.

"As I said, I didn't want to die. It just...ya know?" You furrow your brows, dodging your eyes from the boys as you think of how to form your words. "You hit this breaking point at some point where you just can't take it anymore and that's the do or die moment and sometimes that's literal. It was for me. Do or die because I just could not do it anymore. I wanted to escape if that.... clarifies anything. I...I just wasn't....given more options."

"Why didn't you use your powers? You said it's because you were afraid he was going to kill you but if that was the plan anyway..." Gar's voice is raised a little like he's upset by what you did which, is fair. But, he's known you for three days and he doesn't have a right to be upset by it.

"I wanted to escape." You state, sympathizing with him being upset by it. "If I used my powers and he happened to have some, too, he'd definitely have killed me. That was the only way I could see to have a shot to live outside of that fucking basement."

"That's so fucked." Jason shakes his head and it's the same reaction he's had all night but is there anything else to say about it? It's all fucked.

"You've said that." You nod.

"It is. Still think it's badass you just took it though." Jason shrugs, not quite sure how to process any of it and Gar is taking it very seriously. Based on what you've told Jason, he thinks maybe you’ll shut down if something quick-witted or sarcastic or snarky isn’t said.

Gar gives Jason a disapproving look. It's not badass, not to Gar. It's sad. No one should be out there just shrugging off their possible death to escape a bad situation. Jason was at least right about it being fucked. But it's more than that. There is a deep, almost unbearable ache in Gar's chest looking at you and realizing that most of the bruises he can see, including the ones you normally have covered up, are all new. Most of them seem to be turning into shades indictive of healing though, which is good. It's hitting him how fresh of all that still is to you and maybe you’re right that trauma doesn't make people strong but to Gar, you are. To deal with that and come out the other end, willing to trust him and Jason now, after three days is incredible.

You don't seem desensitized talking to them. It's trust and while he wants to do everything in his power to protect you, he also admires you because he knows he could never have made that life-or-death decision. He would have fought to get out or just taken whatever was given to him.

"Please, don't apologize." You say, looking at Gar. You know he's going to, he has the whole time and you don't want or need it. It doesn't make any of it better. "It's not something--" You’re cut off as Gar just pulls you into a hug and your eyes widen.

The hug is gentle like he's afraid if he gives you a proper hug maybe you'll shatter into a million pieces like fragile porcelain. But it's how he knows to communicate best and it's better than apologizing again or just echoing Jason. This is something distantly Gar. And you have a sad smile as you hug him back and you do like his hugs. They're comforting and he's so warm. You wonder if that's just a Gar thing or if it's the mutant part of him that makes him so warm. But you like how it quiets the roaring in your head like a tunnel muffling the sounds of rain. You like that you can feel the warmth through your bones, the constant ache of just existing eases and you don't really want him to let go. But then he does because hugs don't last forever.

"Thanks." Your smile is shy as you look at him while he pulls away and Gar's cheeks burn.

Jason has one furrowed brow, Gar glancing over to him. "Don't fucking hug me." You burst out laughing as Jason looks a little too serious. Sometimes Gar gets into a mushy mood and Jason will never admit it, but he does kind of like when Gar gets like that. But, he’s trying very hard to break the tension in the room.

"Why would I hug you?" Gar scoffs through a laugh. Jason looks like he would murder anyone that showed any type of physical affection toward him right now. Gar isn't stupid.

"Way to ruin a moment, Jason." Your laugh starts to subside.

"You're welcome." Jason huffs, a smirk on his lips.

He didn't really ruin a moment exactly, he did however, break the tension. Shattered, actually. The sadness in the air disappeared with his single comment. Though, you wish you could have known where it would have went with Gar after the hug, just what he would have had to say if anything. But you won't complain for a good laugh.

"So, back at it tomorrow night?" Jason asks, cornered smirk at you.

"Fuck yeah." You agree and Gar lets out a defeated sigh. He can tell you two are going to cause trouble together.

"Can I come? Since I know about it now." Gar asks. Maybe he wants to be the look out or help. Or maybe he wants to be there in case Jason gets carried away, not that he thinks he will, but just in case, of course. Or maybe it's just as simple as Gar wanting to hang around you some more.

"I'm cool, you?" You ask Jason.

"Yeah, of course, man." Jason nods at Gar and they do say they're best friends but this is the first you’re actually getting see it. You think it's cute.

"Awesome, I'm gonna go to bed then, you guys?" You ask.

"Yeah," Gar nods with wide eyes as he stands up.

You give Jason a cornered look and Jason would normally stay up, just a little longer. There's no such thing as too much training. But, you did have an eventful night and maybe he could go for a little more rest tonight.

"Yeah, alright." Jason gets up from his spot and the three of you walk to your rooms.

Jason gives you both a quick "night" before heading into his room and shutting the door, leaving Gar and you. Jason can take a hint. Now, it's just Gar and you, standing outside your room and neither of you are sure why. You're going to bed but you opening up makes Gar feel closer to you. He'll never understand what you went through but he can try. He can be there if you need him to even if it's just to scream or sit in silence. It doesn't bother him either way. And you like how calm he makes you. No one's ever been very good at that. You’ve always had a fire about you and he calms it, not dampens it, just calms it. You like the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you and how much he listens. The only thing, you wish he would stop with the sad eyes but maybe he will now that he knows everything. Maybe, hopefully.

"Okay, I'm gonna go to bed. Goodnight, Gar." Your smile splits your face as you open your door, waving at him softly.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Gar says as he starts to walk off but before you close your door, he turns around. "If you, uh, can't sleep or have a nightmare...." Gar pauses not really knowing how to phrase it without it sounding presumptuous.

"Gotcha." You finish, holding a honey-like smile. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Gar sucks in a breath and this time, you both go to your rooms, doors closing behind you.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @thatfangirl42 // @ghostkingblake

#gar logan #jason todd #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #jason todd x reader #gar logan fanfic #gar logan fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #caving in

129 notes · View notes