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peanutbutterwrites · 1 month

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My Good Looking Boy - Part Four

warnings for series: angst, struggles with self worth and self esteem, issues with appearance, childhood trauma, and mentions of death and murder.

summary: taking place after the southern raiders, zuko and katara finally learn to understand each other a bit more and long held on to feelings come to the surface. the gaang go and watch the ember island play and chaos ensues with katara's feelings.

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

author's note: and here comes part four! this is where the story really starts to take a turn, so thank you to all your patience, here is zutara and where she finally starts to (maybe?) understand her feelings. part five might take me a bit longer, i lowkey ran out of motivation so I haven't started it yet, but hopefully not too long. as always, please let me know what you think and enjoy!

also thank you so much for all the notes and reblogs on this story, I really appreciate all of it! <3

word count: 2.1k

Katara made her way downstairs fully dressed and hair tied neatly into a half top-knot. Her red two piece consisted of a tight, cropped tank top with flowy and breathable pants she had managed to snag from the old clothes left here. It was clearly designed for the frame of a teenage boy, so Katara chose to ignore what or rather who they were made for in favor of just enjoying the freedom they allowed.

She knew it would be her job today to gather what was necessary to feed the group, along with multiple other things, so she wanted to get that particular job done as soon as possible. Over the last few days, the comments made about her in the play affected her less and less. Yes, she did talk a lot about hope, isn’t it important to have hope during such a difficult time? And yes of course she did the housework, who else would? Pushing aside what had been on her mind, the conversation with Aang, she grabbed the basket next to the entrance and dug through the makeshift wallet to see if she could afford to go into town today and continue to save. Zuko and Toph were only able to save so much money, and Katara absolutely refused to let the kids continue with scamming people; it had turned out rather horribly for them in the past. With her nose to the wallet, her visibility was severely impaired and she slammed into a rock hard surface.

“Ow!” She yelped as she fell backwards, but she felt a hand grab her wrist and yank her back upright.

“Oh, sorry.” Zuko murmured, still holding her wrist.

“S’ok.” She whispered right back, frozen in place. He noticed that he was still holding on to her and flushed as he slipped his hand behind himself. In doing so, he examined her full outfit and his flush turned into his full face overheating. He recognized those pants quite easily after all.

“So, uh, where are you off to?” he choked out.

“Oh, well, the market. I think we have enough money to get some actual food.”

“That’s good.” It was painfully awkward. They stood there, each shuffling in place debating on their next words.

“You know-”

“I could-” They both began at the same time.

“Uh, sorry, you go first.” Katara mumbled, looking anywhere but the boy in front of her while a light dusting of pink covered her cheeks.

“I was just thinking, I’m done training Aang for today. I could come with you.” Opening her mouth, rejection her go-to response, she closed it, opting to think for a moment instead.

“You know what, why not.” She half-smiled up to him and he let his own hesitant smile crawl its way up. Walking side-by side they made their way down the dirt path towards the day market that was no doubt in full swing by now. “About the other night,” she began, “I never got to thank you. I’m sorry you had to see that but, uh, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Katara. I told you before, I’ll always be there for you. No matter how big or small the issue is.” She smiled softly at him.

“And I’m sorry for assuming your childhood was, well, privileged.”

“I mean you’re partially right. I never had to worry about food or clothing, nothing money could buy anyway.”

“So then what was it? What put the idea in your head that you’re worthless Zuko.” Silence fell over them and the only sound noticeable was the crunch of the dirt and gravel beneath them as they continued to the village. “Oh, I’m sorry. I overstepped, didn't I?”

“No, you didn’t. It’s just hard to talk about. I don’t like to talk about it either.” Katara nodded in understanding and gently grasped his right hand in her left. Zuko dropped his eyes to look into hers, shocked she was finally accepting him and willing to listen. It was the first time he didn’t feel pity or condensation in someone’s gaze when this topic came around.

“Well, I’m here for you too, you know.” Silence. After a few minutes walking, he began.

“I spoke out of turn.” She turned to him and squeezed his hand as they kept walking to give him support. Tilting her head to the side, she made it clear she was listening. “A statesman, one with many years of service and honor, wanted to use a young squadron as a decoy. He wanted to sentence them all to death just so we would get the advantage in a battle with a surprise attack. I argued against it. I was only thirteen at the time, but it seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do, to speak for those boys who were unable to speak for themselves. But in speaking out of turn, I disrespected him, threatened him. He challenged me to an Agni Kai to learn respect.”

“An Agni Kai? You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Yes, it’s a battle between two firebenders. It’s meant to be life or death.” Katara tensed as anger began to rise in her.

“But you were so young.”

“It didn’t matter to him. I insulted his place of authority, so foolishly I agreed. I knew I could beat an old statesman so it didn't bother me.” He gripped Katara's hand harder as he continued. “But it wasn't him I had to fight in the Agni Kai. When I turned it was my father.” Katara’s breath hitched in horror. “He claimed by arguing in his war meeting I disrespected him more than the statesman.” He softly shook his head as he continued, “I refused to fight him, he thought that I was weak, a coward. So he gave me this.” He looked at her in the eyes and her own widened in horror. Her teeth ground as Katara felt rage like she’s never felt before. White, hot, outrage. The fact that Zuko had been burned was something she could make her peace with, everyone had their scars, visible or otherwise. But for a parent to do that to their child? She wanted to scream out in anger, to march into the palace at this moment and kill that man. But she knew Zuko didn’t need that right now, she knew he would only end up comforting her instead.

“I, I’m so sorry, Zuko. I never imagined.”

“I know, it's okay.” They began walking again in silence, but Katara’s hand never left his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t heal it, I don’t have the spirit water anymore otherwise I wouldn’t hesitate.” He hummed softly and rubbed his thumb over the top of hand.

“It's fine Katara, it wouldn’t fix anything. Just make me a little more easy on the eyes.” Katara stopped in the dirt road and Zuko only paused when he felt her hand leave his. “What’s wrong?” He frowned, turning to look back at her.

“You, don’t think you’re attractive?” He flushed in embarrassment and crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“Well I mean, isn’t it obvious?” He left out a humorless laugh.

“I think you’re beautiful, Zuko.” It was just a whisper, but to him it felt like so much more. She was looking him dead in the eye, no hint of embarrassment or lie. He felt himself stop breathing. Not bearable, decent, hot, but beautiful. She thought he was beautiful. And for some reason this word shook him. His gut flipped nervously and he had to swallow down his tears that threatened to unleash at any moment.

“Well, thank you. Katara.” He said, his eyes still piercing into hers that kept their intensity. She simply nodded and gathered his hand back into hers as they continued their walk into town.

They were able to haul a decent amount of food back, as surprisingly Zuko was pretty good at haggling with the older merchants who ran the stalls of the day market. Even after such a heavy topic, Katara found herself watching him with pride. His ability to live and forgive, to be kind after suffering such horrific actions against him made her eyes twinkle with emotion. He carried the heavy basket all the way back and offered to help her with the cooking as well.

“I think you are officially the most helpful member of the group, Zuko. Thank you!” Katara spoke cheerfully as they boundered into the entrance of the summer home. Zuko smiled after her and gave a small chuckle.

“I think that’s my favorite title I’ve earned yet.” He put the woven basket down in the kitchen, he began unloading their haul into their proper places as Katara let out a breathy laugh and went to gather the new laundry. Thankfully, the rather large fountain on the property made it easy to wash all the clothes. The next thing she knew she was bending water into the dirty clothing and Zuko was bringing out the tea set the house had been equipped with. He placed the pot out on the edge of the fountain and began brewing her tea as Sokka and Suki came down from their bedroom.

“Good morning! I guess you guys went to the market huh? Couldn’t find you anywhere.” Suki mentioned and Katara nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, and Aang’s lesson with Toph should be over soon so I thought some tea would be nice.”

“I’m sure your hot leaf water will be greatly appreciated, Zuko.” Sokka teased and Katara frowned.

“You do realize he has helped more today than you’ve in the past two weeks, Sokka.” Sokka froze and Suki let out a loud and exuberant laugh.

“Since when are you defending him?!” He said with a high-pitched voice crack and Katara had to fight with herself to stop from laughing outright.

“I’m not defending him, it's just the truth Sokka! And even if I was, it doesn’t matter.” Sokka’s mouth dropped in shock.

“I think she’s right, you guys really need to help out more. She’s always doing all the housework.” Suki mentioned as she took a small cup of piping hot tea from Zuko. Sokka let out multiple gargled and disgruntled sounds with a small “you don’t help either Suki!” while she yanked him down to sit and hushed him.

“Oh hey sugar queen, sparky.” Toph joked as she and Aang returned from their earthbending practice.

“Oh tea! Thanks Zuko!” Aang cheered, after a long morning of practice he must be exhausted and grateful for the break.

“Here, Aang.” Katara reached over to grab some bread she had been able to get at the market. “Relax and keep your strength up, we still have our lesson.” she smiled down at him and his apprehensive smile brightened quickly. Katara knew she couldn’t let personal issues get in the way of her teaching Aang, the world being at stake was of far greater importance than her confusing feelings. Zuko took a seat next to her and handed her a cup of tea, to which she smiled warmly at him and thanked him for.

“No seriously Katara, did something happen? Cause I swear, even after your guys’ trip you weren’t this buddy-buddy.” Sokka finished with Suki elbowing him in the side and him huffing out an exasperated “what?” to her. Zuko tensed up, his grip on his tea strained and contemplated grabbing Katara right then and there to stop her from saying anything. But she made her decision before he could.

“Oh be quiet, Sokka. We aren’t ‘buddy-buddy’, and nothing happened. Gosh, would you give it a rest?” She huffed and crossed her arms in an irritated fashion. Zuko visibly relaxed and took a long sip of his tea, shooting Katara a grateful smile. She knew he would tell the others in his own time and resolved to let it happen naturally versus forcing him to have that conversation right now.

“Karara!” Aaang, called out after gulping down most of his tea. She perked up at his voice, “Let’s start training now.” He smiled and she nodded in response, promising she’ll be back in time to cook dinner.

#zutara #atla #zuko x katara #zutara imagines #avatar the last airbender #zuko #katara #zuatara fanfic

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teaberrii · 3 months

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Chapter 3: Starting Point

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

Tomorrow is the big day: the day you’re finally discharged from the hospital.

Throughout the week, Dan Feng never visited or contacted you. You noticed early that he put his number in the phone he gave you, but you never contacted him. Ever since he left that day, it’s been dead quiet, and you’ve been focusing on work and recovery. However, that doesn't mean he'd occasionally sneak into your thoughts. You've come to accept that Dan Feng only looks like Dan Heng, but that doesn't stop it from reopening a wound that once caused endless sleepless nights, therapy, and medication. Yet this time, the pain came with a childlike curiosity that tempted you, something that you refused to acknowledge let alone satisfy.

It’s almost dinner time, and you’ve been working as Stelle had brought you your work laptop—at your request—early in the week. You save your work, close your laptop, and reach for your phone on the nightstand.

No call. No message.

It’s not Dan Feng you’re waiting for. Your fiancé messaged you earlier that he would be dropping by with takeout… again. It’s something you noticed. Perhaps he was too busy to cook for you as he did for the past years you two were together, but every time he’d visit you, it was always takeout and none of the homemade food you used to enjoy together. No matter how busy he was, he'd always make you something of his.

It’s been nearly two hours, and he’s still not here. You’re heading to the hospital entrance when you give him another call, but the line goes on… and on… and on until you see him walk inside the building. You're about to call his name when you see a woman—an old classmate and your fiancé’s friend from college—run up to him. She looks almost the same from her college days. At least, her red lipstick never changed. She hands him what you think is his phone, and then with her hands on his shoulders, she leans up and kisses him on the lips.

Your eyes go wide. Your hands fall to your sides, and you almost drop your phone. He'll push her away, you think… but he doesn’t, which confirms your worst nightmare. You clench your fists, and with your face almost red with anger, you snap a photo with your phone. Then, you turn around and walk away.

Your fiancé pulls back and then says:

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

The woman pouts. “Don’t get so worked up. So what if she sees? She’s cheating on you too, isn’t she?”

“She—”

She puts a perfectly manicured finger to his lips. “You don’t need to make excuses for her. Her heart has always been with Dan Heng, and now that this new guy showed up… Of course, they’ve been talking behind your back. She’s always been using you… to get over her heartbreak over what happened to Dan Heng. You deserve so much better.” She puts a hand on his cheek. “It’s time to end things with her.”

Back in your room, you’re desperately trying to convince yourself that he’s not worth the pain or the anger, but that’s not enough to stop a few tears. As you’re trying to calm down, you hear your phone buzz. You walk over and see that it’s from that good-for-nothing man. You know exactly why he’s calling. Right when you came back to your room, you immediately called for a nurse, telling her that you'd be refusing visitors for the remaining visiting hours.

You stare at your phone that’s still going off. After ringing for the third time, you pick up.

Your fiancé says your name in a panic. “They said you were refusing visitors. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Isn’t that a question you should be asking yourself?”

“...I don’t…” When he falls silent, you almost scoff.

“Let me make myself clear. I don’t like second-hand things, but some people do. So, why don’t you scurry back to the person who actually wants you.”

“Y-You think I wanted to do something like that? Of course not! But, you’ve been making me feel so insecure!"

"From what?"

"You've been talking to Dan Feng behind my back, haven't you?" You have no words for how confident he sounds.

"And if I told you we haven't talked at all, would you believe me?" You sigh. "Whatever. We're done. I'll move out tomorrow."

Then, you end the call and block his number.

◆◆◆

The night has gotten significantly colder when Dan Feng returns to Wangshu Inn, the place he’s been staying for the past week. He’d read about the place in Bailu’s journal where she described it as a beautiful hotel that preserves the beauty of traditional elements. The exterior reminded him of a temple while the interior had architecture that rivalled those found in ancient Chinese palaces. Giant lanterns lit up almost every hotel amenity; their bright, warm glow was as welcoming as the attitude of all the staff. It's a place that reminded Dan Feng of home. As he walks across the lobby, a slim woman with long, light brown hair and bangs and brown eyes looks up from the receptionist's desk. Verr Goldet is the name on her gold nameplate on the left side of her dark red overcoat.

“Good evening, sir." Her smile carries one of genuine warmth. "Welcome back.”

Dan Feng gives a polite nod and heads back to his room.

During the week, he’s been studying and researching the human world, something that once felt familiar but was now a distant memory. He’s not surprised Xianzhou has changed so drastically since his parents were in power, but Dan Feng is pleasantly surprised that this technologically advanced city still preserved some traditional landmarks, including the palace he once called home, which is now a bustling tourist destination.

The night was still. One could hear crickets and owls in the distance, but the palace was quiet. No one would’ve guessed that someone was awake.

Dan Feng was in his chamber, sitting on a woven mat in front of a low table made out of the finest wood in the nation. He flipped the page of the history book he was reading when a familiar voice came from behind the sliding door.

“Brother?”

What was Dan Heng doing out so late at night? Dan Feng closed his book.

“...Come in.”

Dan Heng, dressed in a long white robe with green and gold accents and a dark green sash around his waist, quietly entered his brother’s room. Upon seeing the book his brother was reading, he asked:

"Are you studying even at this late of night?"

"No, I'm not. Just a bit of light reading."

"...Light reading?" Dan Heng asked, noticing how thick the book was. He sat on a woven mat on the other side of the table. "How is the studying for the exam, by the way?"

"What do you think?" The slightly playful tone didn't go unnoticed.

Unlike Dan Heng, a skilled swordsman and general of the nation's military, Dan Feng found his place in academia where he spent countless hours researching, experimenting, and writing papers. The National Scholar Proficiency Exam also known as NSPE was a test for those in academia to rise above the ranks and grant them various opportunities such as opening universities and programs and drastically increasing their chances of getting direct funding from the palace to support their research.

Because of Dan Feng's status and obvious family connections, there were many opposed to him taking the exam as some speculated it was “just for show” and that he would get a free pass because of his parents. But throughout his academic journey, he never relied on them, proving his place and worth with his skill alone.

If Dan Feng passed, he’d be the youngest scholar to ever take the exam and succeed.

"So, what's keeping you awake, Brother?" Dan Feng asked. "If I were to venture a guess... it's our parents's latest attempt to find us a wife."

“...So, you’re aware.”

“Oh”—Dan Feng rolled his eyes—”if only you knew what the maids talk about.”

It was no secret that the king and queen were hunting for a suitable bride for their sons. Being a powerful nation, there were many neighbouring kingdoms where the royals were looking to marry off their daughters. But, the economic and military benefits to Xianzhou weren't enough, which was why their parents politely declined.

“It’s starting to get out of hand."

“Just noticed it now?" Dan Feng picked up his book and walked to a large wooden bookshelf on the other side of the room. "Focus on other things"—he put the book in its rightful place—"and let them have their fun. Reasoning with them won’t work anymore.”

“...You may be right. But, I will not participate anymore.” Then, Dan Heng said a woman’s name, a name that Dan Feng was also familiar with. She wasn’t of royalty but came from a family of skilled calligraphers, and her father taught the brothers calligraphy when they were young. It was how they knew each other, and they surprisingly kept in touch even until now. Now, she was a textile designer working in town. “...She is someone important to both of us, but I wish to give her a life of happiness.”

Dan Feng turned around. “Are you asking for my blessing?”

“I’ve seen how you look at her, though it’s only something I’ve noticed recently.”

Perhaps Dan Feng wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he thought. While he admitted that he had been growing some fond feelings for his childhood friend, he wouldn’t call it love. But then again, romantic love was something he’d never experienced. Who was he to say that it wasn’t? Regardless, Dan Feng was still figuring out his feelings when his brother dropped this bombshell on him.

“...You’re serious about her.” Dan Feng was careful not to let his voice wander up to sound like a question.

“I am.”

He wasn’t sure what to feel about his brother’s conviction. Dan Feng respected how his brother had said it without any hesitation, but there was also something else. Frustration? Refusal?

“...Have you confessed to her?" Dan Feng asked. "Surely, not yet… considering her circumstances.”

Her failed arranged marriage was no secret. Most, if not the entire village, knew about the man’s infidelity with a woman from another village, and their childhood friend had gotten the brunt of it. Ridiculous gossip like “because she wasn’t womanly enough” or “because she’s too focused on her work” came about, but she had told the brothers the truth of the matter:

“We didn’t love each other,” she had said. “How could we? We don’t match.”

“I’m waiting for the right opportunity,” Dan Heng admitted. “And, your blessing would mean a lot to me.”

Then, for the first time, Dan Feng did something he considered to be unreasonable.

“...Let’s talk after my exam, shall we?”

Wearing a white bathrobe, Dan Feng is sitting on a chair, sipping his tea. He glances at his phone on the small, round table, and he suddenly thinks of you.

Was your fiancé cheating? If he was, did you find out? Dan Feng never sticks his nose into other people’s business, but… if his hunch is right, your fiancé is cheating, and it’s only a matter of time before you find out. He puts his empty teacup back on the coaster. If his hunch is right, then that’s one more similarity between you and the woman he used to love. You never confirmed that you and Dan Heng were romantically involved, but your fiancé’s initial reaction was too much for Dan Heng to have been just a friend. So, perhaps Dan Feng should thank your fiancé and his inability to control his emotions.

While Dan Feng has been catching up to all the advancements in the human world, he’s also been researching reincarnations, but he hasn’t found anything new than what he already knows. Dan Heng is living proof that reincarnations happen. But, if you really are her, why are your names different? Soon, Dan Feng’s mind goes on a spiral: Who are your parents? What do you do for a living? How did you and Dan Heng meet? He uses two fingers to rub the space between his eyes.

You’re driving him crazy in the worst way possible.

He looks at his phone again. Is it a blessing or a curse that he doesn’t have your number? Then, he narrows his eyes and looks over his shoulder.

“Livin’ the good life, are we?”

“Get off the bed,” Dan Feng says flatly.

Sampo swings his legs over and leans forward so his elbows are on his knees. “Hey, at least I took off my shoes before I got on, right?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well… my big ‘ol boss got wind of me saving a human… So, I’ve been banished.”

Now, this is unexpected.

“...Banished?”

“For the year.”

Dan Feng turns back. “What a punishment.”

“...Well, here’s the thing, my dragon friend…” Sampo stands and plops into the chair on the other side of the small table. “If the Aeons aren’t caught, the two of us… we’ll be stuck here forever.”

Dan Feng scoffs and swings one leg over the other. “...You sold me out, didn't you?" Sampo shrugs with a not-so-innocent smile. "What about everyone else?"

“Regardless of the result, they’re free to go back.”

“...Answer me first. Why did you help me save her that night?”

Sampo puts his hands behind his head. “You asked me to, didn’t you?”

“And you’d do anything I say?”

Sampo’s cat-like smile is back. “She was cute.” Then, he makes a gesture as if he’s whispering to someone. “Too young and too cute to die just yet.”

Dan Feng imagines throwing his teacup at him. If he still had some of his power, he’d make it happen in a blink of an eye.

“What? Looks like you’re not satisfied with that response.”

“I want a real response, not that ridiculous garbage you just told me.”

Sampo puts a hand over his heart and looks offended, but he really isn’t. “Gosh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." A soft sigh. “All right, fine. I’ll let you in on a secret, but I’m sure you already know… I heard her say a name that’s too similar to yours not to be a coincidence. Dan Heng… He was your doppelganger, am I right?”

“...That’s it?” Dan Feng deadpans. “That’s the reason?”

“I figured she might have something to do with these untimely deaths. Dan Heng wasn’t supposed to die that day, but this woman was. They… oh, how can I put this? They switched places. If that didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have been able to save her.” Sampo stands and walks to the balcony. “As I told you before, people have been dying when they aren’t supposed to. Your doppelganger was one of them. And since that started happening when the Aeons disappeared, she could be affiliated with them without knowing who they really are.”

Dan Feng crosses her arms. “In other words, you want to use her to find out where the Aeons are. And what if she’s never met them?”

“She knows your doppelganger, which means she must know something or have connections to his family. She’s our beautiful, little starting point.” Sampo sighs as if satisfied. “Ah… This adrenaline. Feels so nice to get a change of pace once in a while. It gets awfully boring just taking souls.” Then, he walks over and swings an arm around Dan Feng. “So, start using that charisma of yours, and let’s get Aeon hunting, hm?"

Dan Feng stands and walks over to the room service phone. “...Hi. Yes, I’d like to report an intruder." A small pause. "...Room 1220."

As soon as Dan Feng puts down the receiver, Sampo frowns. "I thought we were friends, Dan Feng. I thought we were behind this."

"Friend or not..." A firm knock comes at the door. Sampo snaps his fingers and is shocked when nothing happens. Despite his constant finger snapping, it still isn’t working when two guards walk in and seize him. "Neither of us should ignore the rules of this world."

“...This is a huge misunderstanding,” Sampo says to the two guards. “This guy's playing games!"

“Rule number one,” Dan Feng says, his hands behind his back. “Nothing in the human world comes for free, not even for The Reaper.”

Sampo frowns as he's escorted out, and then Dan Feng closes the door.

◆◆◆

It’s only noon but you and Stelle are having drinks at March’s house.

Your luggage, holding all of your things from your ex’s house, is placed neatly by the door. You had gone early in the morning to grab them, and while it was awkward, you obviously weren’t going to shy away from it. After hearing about what happened, Stelle offered you to stay at her place. March had photoshopped the photo you took and replaced their heads with the ugliest images of cartoon poop she could find because replacing them with any animal would be an insult to said animal. Then, she also offered you a place at her apartment.

While you’re grateful for their offers, you know their families are visiting and staying with them starting tomorrow since a month ago. So, before telling them, you already came up with a plan. It’s not like you had nowhere to go. You never sold the apartment left behind by your parents when they passed. When you got engaged almost a year ago, you rented it to an elderly couple. So, it's just a waiting game for their contact to end until you can move back in. Thankfully, it's set to expire by the end of next week.

For now, you booked a room at Wangshu Inn for a week while you wait.

“What a scumbag,” March says, slamming her wine glass on the table. “But damn… He went after you for years. I can’t believe he’d just throw all of that away.”

“No matter how much a woman tries,” Stelle says, “they can never erase the worries of an insecure man.”

You groan and lean your head back on the sofa behind you. “...And I still don’t know who has my necklace.”

After booking a room at Wangshu Inn, you called the pawn shop and asked about the necklace. But to no avail.

“...Maybe… Maybe it’ll show up when you least expect it!”

You give March a little smile. “Thanks, but… I doubt it.”

“You know… There may be one good thing that came out of all of this…”

March and Stelle glance at each other, and March nods with a wide smile. “Mm… Oh, yes, I think you’re right.”

You look at them. “...What are you two thinking about?”

Suddenly, your friends are on either side of you. March, still with that smile, asks:

“Dan Feng gave you his number, didn't he? Let's call him!"

“No.” Then, you sip your wine.

“Why not? You’re single!”

You slowly turn to March with an unamused look.

“You have to contact him eventually, don’t you?” Stelle asks. “You said you’d show him around town.”

“When I have time,” you say. “Right now, I won’t with all the moving and work I have to catch up on.”

“But, I’m sure he’d like to get an update on how you’re doing,” March says, sounding but failing to sound convincing.

“Right… Because I'm sure anyone would love to share that their fiancé cheated.”

March pours you more wine. “Well, you could, like, just don't mention that! Okay, but seriously... Is Dan Feng rich? Like, did you see the outfit he was wearing? And that watch?”

"That outfit isn't hard to find," you say. "There are a bunch of cheap options for the same look."

Stelle puts her elbow on the couch. “But, I do wonder… What does he do for a living?”

“Yeah!” March nods eagerly. “I’m curious, too! It makes me wonder if he’s Dan Heng’s cousin twice removed or something. Or, maybe Dan Feng’s the heir of a rival fashion company. How's that for a plot twist?”

“You have a wild imagination, March.”

March nudges you. “If you don’t wanna talk to him, can I? I’ll keep it short… Promise!”

After seeing March’s eager expression, you cave, and hand her your phone. She clicks on Dan Feng’s contact and turns on the speaker. As the phone tries to connect, your hands start fidgeting. He won’t pick up, you think. All of that talk about you showing him around was just—

“Hello?”

You shouldn’t be that surprised, but your eyes still go wide. You look at March. She looks at you, and your face almost goes pale when she gestures for you to talk.

“...Don’t tell me you’re going to say you accidentally dialled my number.”

Everyone turns to the phone, and you awkwardly clear your throat. “...My friend wants to talk to you.”

March gives you a deadpan look, and you hand her the phone when he suddenly says:

“But I’d rather talk to you.”

March quickly puts a hand over her mouth while Stelle almost gasps.

“How’s your recovery?” Dan Feng asks.

“...Um… Well, I was discharged today.”

“Congratulations.”

“...Thanks.”

“Now, before I go on… That fiancé of yours. He’s not going to suddenly take the phone away and start yelling, is he?”

“We broke up.” You’re careful not to sound too hostile and angry about it.

“...Ah. And is another congratulations in order or should I be offering my condolences?”

You’re quick to catch on. Is this his way of trying to get information on what happened? Maybe you’re overthinking it. So, instead, you say:

“We didn’t match. So, I suppose you could congratulate me.”

There’s a small silence, and then:

“I see. Then, if that’s the case… Congratulations. You deserve better.”

March gives you two thumbs up and a wide smile.

“Because of my current circumstances, it might be a little while before I can show you around,” you say. “So, if you don’t want to wait, maybe you should ask someone else.”

“I fully intend on getting my tour around the city, and if waiting will get me there, then it is what it is. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready. But if this is a way of rejecting my offer of friendship, I’d rather you tell me directly.”

March and Stelle are staring at you as if this is a life-or-death situation.

“It’s not,” you say. “I really—”

“Then, I’ll be waiting.”

You lift the phone away from your ear, surprised that he ended the call.

“Oh, my God!” March is almost slamming the table. “That was… That was…” She immediately looks at Stelle. “Help me, Stelle!”

“Offer of friendship… That’s something I’ve never heard before.”

“It’s innovative!”

“All right. Is everyone happy now?” you deadpan.

March and Stelle exchange a glance.

“Well, it’ll have to do for now,” March says.

You finish the rest of your wine. Then, as you and Stelle help March clean up the table, you say:

“Is it just me, or are you trying a little too hard to set me up with a stranger I barely know?”

“...For now,” Stelle says, and you turn to her, not expecting this response.

“He’s a stranger for now,” March clarifies. “Look”—she swings a friendly arm around you—”we’re not saying you have to go and date the guy. But, it won’t hurt to meet some new people!"

You’re about to say your opinion, but Stelle is quick to add:

“We know you want to focus on work, which, hey, we totally support. But, he genuinely doesn’t seem like a bad person. At the very least, we'd be making a new friend."

“...Besides…” It’s one of those rare times that March has a serious look. “...I somehow can’t shake off he has like… some kind of connection to Dan Heng.”

So, it’s not just you.

“Or, maybe it’s because I miss him a lot…” March continues quietly.

“...I miss him, too.”

March hugs you as Stelle, standing on the other side of you, puts an arm around you and March.

◆◆◆

Wanting somewhere quiet, Dan Feng had gone to the nearby library as there was an upcoming wedding at Wangshu Inn, causing a lot of commotion. He’d quickly learned how to use a computer, and for a couple of hours, he’d been finding out all that he could about his brother’s life, which surprisingly didn’t take that long.

His brother was an only child and the heir to Lunae, a large fashion company, but was involved in a tragic accident when the private jet carrying him and his family crashed into the ocean. Despite a thorough investigation and finding the black box, investigators were puzzled that they couldn’t pinpoint the reason behind the crash. The bodies of everyone on that jet had also strangely “vanished.” Investigators couldn’t find any human remains, but there was no way that anyone could’ve survived considering the impact and location.

Dan Feng clicks on an article. His eyes scan the page, and that’s when he sees it. It’s a photo of you surrounded by reporters. Half of your face is covered in shadow, but nothing can hide the solemn, broken look on your face. Dan Heng wasn’t a celebrity, so there was very little about his private life. But this accident had brought those connected to the family, including you, his girlfriend, into the spotlight.

The mystery had generated a lot of buzz when it first came out and conspiracy theories went wild. Some speculated it was the pilot who had a suicide mission. Others speculated there was someone else inside the plane who murdered the family and tossed their remains elsewhere before the plane crashed.

Dan Feng opens a new browser and types in ‘Lunae’.

Established more than a century ago, the fashion house is known as The House of Moons, originally specializing in East Asian designs. But after the unfortunate accident, Tsaritsa, a distant relative of Dan Heng’s mother, took over and reorganized the management team. While Dan Feng doesn’t recognize anyone from the list, there is one person who stands out.

A distinguished-looking man who goes by the name ‘Pierro’. That angular face and sharp look in his eyes that pierces through one’s soul… It reminds Dan Feng of a similar man back in his time, a leading general of the military from a neighbouring nation who did not see eye to eye in political matters with Dan Feng’s family. Their names are similar, and their appearance heightens the possibility of Pierro being a reincarnation. Or, is he simply a descendant?

Dan Feng closes the browser and leaves the library, going over in his mind what he’d learned.

While he's not certain, the crash might have happened because of some extra… help. Considering the crash happened within the last decade, the Aeons would've been wandering in the human realm. But, if the Aeons were involved, how did they meet Tsaritsa? And… why would they help her? Was there an internal power struggle before all of this happened?

As soon as Dan Feng enters the inn, there’s a familiar woman at the receptionist counter. With his hands behind his back, he walks across the lobby, his steady footsteps sounding quietly against the wooden floor. He’s a short distance away when he hears you thank the receptionist. Then, with a small mischievous smile, he says:

“Guess I didn’t have to wait that long to see you.”

Chapter 4

Tag list: @lunavixia

#dan feng x reader #dan feng #dan feng x you #imbibitor lunae x reader #imbibitor lunae

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purple-plum-petals · 1 year

Note

may i request sun/moon pining headcannons? (romantic) like them coming to terms with their feelings, them remembering every detail about you, them refusing to let you neglect yourself etc ? thank you! :]

—⊱ Dreaming of Our Future ⊰ || Sun/Moon X Reader Pining Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Daycare Attendant, Sun and Moon (FNaF: Security Breach) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Nothing! Genre: Headcanons/Scenario, Angst and Fluff (Happy Ending), Romantic Relationship (Friends to Lovers) Word Count: ~1,500 words Request: “may i request sun/moon pining headcannons? (romantic) like them coming to terms with their feelings, them remembering every detail about you, them refusing to let you neglect yourself etc ? thank you! :]” Author’s Note: But of course! These two are some of my favorite characters ever and I love being able to write more about them! I might have repeated myself in this ask since I’ve written a few things about Sun/Moon falling in love before, but the other asks were just never specifically pining headcanons. It also ended up being a bit more angsty since I had to look up what pining was because I needed a definition refresher, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I’ve been having writer’s block recently due to a mixture of stress and no motivation, so I hope these aren’t too bad haha.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

☀️: Sun comes to the realization that he’s in love with you very quickly. He’s the type of person bot that will become very attached to you if you show him even the slightest amount of positive attention, something which eventually snowballs into a full-blown crush. He accepts his feelings towards you, but he doesn’t do anything to actively pursue you. After all, you’re a human and he’s a robot – you’re both very different from each other in a lot of ways, such as your statuses and the fact that he can never leave the confines of the Pizzaplex. You two would never be able to have a “normal” relationship.

☀️: Sun is just happy to be able to be by your side whenever you decide to spend your time with him, drawing together and talking about how your separate days went after all the children have been picked up. You always have quite eventful days at work, and he isn’t quite sure how you manage to handle it all; you’re truly an inspiration! Sun loves listening to you talk about anything and everything, but he especially loves hearing what you do before and after your shifts at the Pizzaplex. He daydreams about being able to leave with you, go home together, make dinner as if you were a couple… it hurts him so much to dream, but he can’t stop himself from doing so if you are in them.

☀️: He knows that his… feelings for you aren’t good for his own wellbeing, but he just can’t stomp them out like an unruly flame when you look at him the way you do, your eyes shining with glee and your smile so wide it’s causing the skin under your eyes to crinkle. Why does his chest hurt? He doesn’t even have a heart, at least not one like you do. He asks you one day if you think he has a heart. You take a moment to think as you draw on the paper in front of you absentmindedly, telling him you do think he has one – he loves the kids, he has things he’s passionate about… it only would make sense that he has a heart, at least in the metaphorical sense. That makes him feel better knowing you see him as more than just a machine following code, but he still won’t do anything outright like telling you how he feels about you.

☀️: Sun has quite a lot of storage in his memory system, so he is easily able to remember everything and anything about you that you’re willing to tell him such as your favorite food or even something that caught your eye while you were shopping. He can’t do much with that information considering he’s pretty much confined to the daycare, but he’ll always do what he can to show that he cares. For example, if you’re having a bad day, he’ll throw together a card illustrated with your favorite animal drawn with crayon in your favorite color with Sun’s handwriting telling you he’s always there to talk if you need him.

☀️: He is an amazing friend and a very supportive figure in your life, always filling your usually boring and sometimes draining workdays into something you can actually look forward to. That’s why when you found yourself catching feelings for him, you weren’t exactly surprised. You and Sun had been hanging out like you usually do when all the kids leave when you accidentally let your true feelings slip during a conversation. Sun froze completely, staring you down with milky eyes as you tried to play it off as a joke – the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend – when he suddenly asked, “…you do?”

☀️: You couldn’t lie to him, so you told him the truth; never before had you seen Sun light up the way he did at that moment. He picked you up in his arms, twirling you around as he exclaimed that he loved you as well – that he had for so long. You both were happy but, for Sun, it was like the vice-grip that had been squeezing his chassis for months had finally removed itself from his person; he felt light for the first time in ages. Now, after you left, he could daydream knowing you loved him back and that, maybe one day… you two could have a future together.

🌙: Moon realizes he’s in love with you just as quickly as Sun but, unlike his twin who immediately accepts that he has feelings for you, Moon does everything he can to push them to the side. He probably even starts actively trying to avoid you in the hopes the feelings go away. Alas, it only makes his non-existent heart want you even more. Like Sun, though, he believes you two could never be together considering how different you are from one another, both species-wise and status-wise… You’re a person with a life outside the Pizzaplex, and he’s forever confined to the place of his creation.

🌙: Moon looks forward to being able to see you even if he wishes you didn’t have him so tightly wrapped around your finger; he wondered if you realized the hold you had on him. You’d usually sneak into the daycare while the children were asleep, the two of you often playing with the deck of cards you usually snuck into work so you two could play. You were so adorable when you lost for the fifth time in a row, quietly accusing him of cheating with a slight pout on your lips. Well, you were playing with a highly advanced AI, of course he was going to win – something of which he told you with a smirk. You just playfully pushed his arm, the area where you touched setting his sensors on fire and only causing the pain in his chassis to deepen… he needed to be more careful with you.

🌙: Unlike Sun, Moon doesn’t allow himself to dream of the possibilities you two could have together if you were to become a couple. It would be foolish to do such a thing, dreaming of a future that would never come to be. Moon wasn’t one to purposefully put himself through emotional hell even if the possibilities his mind could conjure up would be nice to think about. One night, though, he found himself dreaming of holding you in his arms, curled up together in a bed as you peppered his face with kisses – oh, how he wondered how your lips would feel on his faceplate. Would they be smooth and soft, or perhaps slightly chapped? He stopped himself before he could imagine any further, though, not wanting to put himself through any more unnecessary turmoil.

🌙: Moon notices when you’re not taking care of yourself – it’s quite obvious if you haven’t been getting as much sleep or haven’t been eating as often as you should be. While the kids are asleep, he’ll hand you small snacks like granola bars or fruits, as well as a juice box, saying something about how your stomach growling might make the kids think a monster entered the daycare with a low chuckle. If you appear tired, Moon has no qualms about you using his and his brother’s room to take a quick nap – if anyone comes around asking where you are, he has no problem covering for you. After all he loves you you’re his best friend and he wants you to take care of yourself.

🌙: Moon is caring in his own somewhat backhanded way, but you’ve truly come to treasure him and his friendship during your many months of knowing one another. So, when you realize you wish his touch would linger more or have to fight off the urge to kiss his faceplate whenever he makes you laugh, you’ve realized you’ve fallen quite hard for your robotic coworker. Not wanting to deal with those feelings right then and there, you didn’t see Moon during your break that day… or the next. However, after a couple of days of not seeing you, he found you and demanded asked why you had been avoiding him as of late when you accidentally let your feelings for him slip out.

🌙: You both stood there, looking at each other with wide eyes and, at least in your case, reddened cheeks. After a few moments of silence, Moon started laughing – straight up laughing at you. You felt embarrassed and mortified, tears forming in your eyes as you started walking away before he grabbed your hand gently, smiling brightly as he told you between the light chuckles still echoed out from his voice box, “I love you, too, starlight – I’m so… happy.” While Moon still didn’t think you two would be able to have a traditional relationship, at least now he would be able to daydream about it knowing you felt the same way.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

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hazbin-hotlee37 · 20 days

Note

Lee!Vox with Ler!Velvette would be cute :3

Fuck, motivation has gone poof! Anywayyyyyyssss

TW: Mentions of eating disorders and bad self care habits

Getting your mind off things

Lee!Vox, Ler!Velvette

“VOX!”

The TV headed demon in question jumped slightly, lifting his head from the desk where he was sleeping and running a hand down his screen. He sat up with a wince, his back aching. Fuck… What time was it?

“Vox, you missed the damn meeting and left me there with Valentino-... Damn, you look like shit. The fuck happened to you?” Velvette asks after she spun Vox’s chair toward her. The Media overlords appearance was very off from usual, looking disheveled instead of pristine.

“Nothing… I’ve just been trying to work on the Angelic Security shit…”

“That random idea you pulled out your ass? Why waste so much energy on that?? The extermination was canceled”

“Yeah, but what about the next one! I want to get this shit out there so the bitches aren’t breathing down my neck over it next year!” Vox said with a sigh.

“Yeahhhh, no. Come on, you haven’t left this damn cave in days.” She responds as she takes Vox’s hand dragging him out of his chair and out the door.

“I’m fine, Vel-”

“Don’t make me get Valentino” That shut the Media overlord up, he loved his husband, of course! But…… Valentino was already on his ass about this type of thing, if he learned the real reason as to why he wasn’t in bed with him at night… God, he did not have the mental capacity to comprehend that lecture.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on, I’ll get you something to eat” Velvette says as she pushed Vox into her room/living area. Vox stumbled a little but followed.

“I’m not really hungry right now, Vel” Vox mutters, he knows he should eat something… But the thought of food right now only made his stomach churn…

“Don’t tell me-... That thing is coming back?”

Vox shrugged and looked to the side, fidgeting with his sleeve slightly.

“Have you told Val-”

“No. And he doesn’t need to know, I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re not, V! When was the last time you ate? Or slept? Or even took care of yourself in the slightest??” Velvette says, concern clear in her voice. “You’re gonna work yourself to your second death at this point!”

“I know, I know… I get it, It’s just hard to suddenly change something you’ve done since you were alive.. For years! I’m trying my best… but sometimes it creeps back…” Vox says his voice going quiet near the end, he sat down on the couch and sighed.

“...Bloody hell, V, I didn’t realize you were this fucked up” Velvette says with a joking smile, trying to lighten the mood as she sat down next to the Media demon.

“Who down here isn’t..?” Vox says with a slight smile, he then jumped and gasped quietly when he felt Velvette run her claws up his side. “V-Vel-”

“Come on, Vox, we both know you need a bit of a pick me up” The fashion designer says with a smile as she squeezes the TV demon’s sides.

Vox squeaked and tried to bring his knees up to his chest but Velvette just pushed his legs back down and started scribbling her fingers over his tummy.

“Nahaha! V-Vehel, nononono NOhohoho! Ehehek!” Vox giggled and batted at the Social Media influencers hands but didn’t really try to push her away.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Voxy, can’t handle what you dish out? Don’t think I forgot when you got me and Val the other day! So take this as a pick me up and revenge!” The fashionista says with a smirk as she started to squeeze and drill her thumbs into the Tech demon’s hips, giggling when he shrieked.

“VEHEHELVEHETTE! NAHAHAEHEHEH- I Cahahan’t-! Ehehehek!”

“Shush! God, you’re so bloody loud! At this point, Val’s gonna kick down the door!” “Ihihihi’M SOHOHORREHEHE-” “Blah, blah, blah. Whatever, I’ll slow down a lil, don’t want you passing out on me. Tino will have my head” Vel says with a softer smile as she plays with Vox’s antenna, making the TV headed demon’s giggles melt into something softer.

“Ohoho gosh…” “Yeah, yeah, just take a load off, alright? You deserve it…”

#hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #mentioned Valentino #lots and lots of fluff #soo much fluff #Headcanon: Vox is fucked up #Eating disorder mentioned but not directly #Hinted at #Ler!Velvette

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quaissants · 1 year

Text

FOUR ୨୧ CHOI BEOMGYU

cast. classmate! beomgyu x gn! mc ༝ pantone. fluff .. aouad au ༝ length. 967 ༝ cw(s). mention of zombie apocalypse & food .. gyu wears glasses

tfw. so i’ve been very inactive on this blog but there’s no way i’m missing this special day. (i took a prompt from nightprompts.. i think- and twisted it a bit.) for the second year in a row, happy birthday to my biggest supporter, to the one who never fails to defend and attack me, my bubba.. matty 💛

beomgyu used to dangle his feet over the deep end of life. he’d often think about jumping into it; surrendering himself to chance. but having control was safer, so he’d shuffle over to the shallow end.

‘i’ll do it some other time,’ he’d constantly promise to himself. a dumb decision, really; especially after almost losing it altogether. honestly, he shouldn’t be so hard on himself—how to survive a zombie outbreak isn’t included in any schools’ curriculum.

that’s why it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that he has no idea what to do now. roaming the quarantine camp doesn’t sound appealing, especially not on an empty stomach..

come to think of it, maybe that’s what beomgyu should do. his assigned nurse did tell him that the mobile canteen’s serving lunchboxes. finding a place to demolish eat the overdue meal will be challenging, but he can tackle that matter afterwards.

for now, he must look for the treasure.

“excuse me- uh, hello- sorry-” falls out of beomgyu’s mouth frequently. he didn’t think that asking for help would be this hard, but when everyone is caught up in their own endeavors, he’s questioning his belief.

just when he’s about to try again, he hears someone calling his name. or maybe it’s his stomach begging him to hurry his search..

“hey, choi beomgyu!”

..okay that definitely wasn’t his tummy.

curious and confused, the bespectacled male turns around. to say his stomach twists and flips is an understatement (he swears it’s given up on functioning altogether) as you walk up to him, elegantly weaving between the passersby.

“for a second there, i really thought my mind was playing tricks on me.” you tell him, unaware that beomgyu’s is malfunctioning. “it’s nice to see you got out of the school too. of course, minus the scratches, but still, alive.”

this is supposed to be the part where beomgyu says something like yeah, same or i’m glad you’re okay too.. but the brunet is not sure if that’s going to happen. see, even with the bandages and the specks of exhaustion that remain in your bright eyes, he still believes you’re gorgeous.

and he knows that your mere presence is threatening his control over his heart’s erratic thrumming.

he must have wasted too much time daydreaming, for you bring up another topic, “oh, are those new glasses?”

“y-yeah, well.. you see, i lost the other one on the way here so i have to wear this oldie. it’s not the right prescription but i guess something similar’s better than nothing.” he chuckles awkwardly; a lopsided smile and pink dust dabbed on his cheeks to complement the look.

“that’s true.. does that mean you won’t need these anymore?”

he’s about to question your mysterious words when you pull out a familiar object from your coat pocket. thin, silver frame.. asymmetrical nose pads that almost never did their job..

there’s no way..

“i found them in the music room, figured i’d bring them along in case i bumped into you. the others said i shouldn’t be too optimistic but i didn’t listen. in fact, these glasses became my motivation so i made sure to take care of them.”

the last words are spoken so softly, as if they weren’t meant to be heard, but he did. maybe it’d be better if he didn’t, because now he’s willing to give up his heart to you. forget about self-control, he’ll do anything you tell him to.

(obviously everything outside of legal boundaries is not included.)

“can i..” at your nod, he removes his current pair to put on his old spectacles. it takes a minute and a few squints to adjust, but he’s certain of one thing: he missed his glasses. “thank you for looking after them, it feels so good to see clearly again.”

“don’t sweat it, they weren’t a problem-” you pause, only to lightly push the frame up the bridge of his nose. you’ve already done so much for him, that would have been enough for the lovestruck boy. but you just have to brush his bangs away from his eyes, right?

“alright, i’m gonna head back to my tent now. hopefully i’ll see you around!”

hopefully? beomgyu’s not about to let that amount to nothing more than a wistful thought.

“wait!” you stop and turn around so eagerly, were you expecting him to say something else? the flustered male’s not about to get caught up in that observation so he hastily asks, “i know we almost just died a few hours ago but i was wondering.. maybe- no, would you like to go have a late lunch with me?”

..maybe this wasn’t a good idea. judging by the contemplation dusted upon your visage, you’re thinking of a reason to reject his request. he won’t be surprised if you do—you’re one of the cool kids, while he’s a wallflower who’s only noticed when he says something funny—but a no would be enough-

“sure, i’d like that a lot.”

his whole body has shut down.

“wait wait.. hold on, did you just say yes?”

the laugh that the brunet never failed to hear whenever he made a joke falls from your lips again. this time, you got a radiant smile and echo of his earlier words to accompany it. “it’s about time you asked me out. then again, i guess now is better than never.”

and that’s how beomgyu ended up sharing a table and stories with you. of course it didn’t end in the canteen, how can it when he walked you to your tent—well, now yours and his. by the end of the day, beomgyu’s more than sure that he’s an absolute fool for you, but he doesn’t mind these newly realized feelings.

in fact, he’ll consider diving into possibilities more often.

𓆩♡𓆪 ─┈ taglist. @stealanity @strxwberry-skiess — send an ask / dm to be added !

#k-labels #hiraya-m #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu scenarios #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt #beomgyu #choi beomgyu

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harleykeeners · 3 months

Text

Be My Life Line (Please)-Parkner

Peter Parker/Harley Keener

Prompt: Peter Parker is overwhelmed. His Dads happen to be called out on a mission the same week his life decided to fall apart. With 4 tests, massive presentations, and no parents, Peter starts popping pills to cope with the pressure of everything crumbling around him. Harley finds him and accidentally makes it worse.

Word Count: 9282

“Hey, kid. Just checking in, we just landed. Everything good?” Tony asked.

Peter put the phone down as he sighed, “Yeah, everything’s great.” Lying through his teeth, Peter started to make his way to the medicine cabinet.

“That’s good to hear. Hey, we should be back in 3 days tops. Just gotta wrap something up here with Nat quickly, something about some rogue spies, I don’t even know at this point.”

“Sounds like fun. Well, I gotta go, got things to do. Be safe, love you.” Peter hung up and just… stared into the mirror. He closed the medicine cabinet and walked away. Tony and Stephen were suddenly pulled away for a mission Peter (and apparently Tony) knew next to nothing about. Which was normal.

Except it had to be this week.

It had to be the week Peter had his Calc and Physics midterm.

It had to be the week Peter had an English and History test.

It had to be the week Peter promised to help MJ with Academic Decathlon practice.

It had to be the week Peter was set to present his work to the other head scientists at Stark Industries.

All in all, he had too much this week. Too much, all at once.

Normally, whenever Tony and Stephen were out, Peter would ask Pepper for help. Well, with Pepper being promoted to CEO, that was next to impossible. After Pepper, Peter would go to Happy. However, it appeared the universe was dead set on making Peter’s week terrible. Happy was preoccupied with training new bodyguards and media specialists (which wasn’t his job?).

So, Peter was alone. Alone with a crammed schedule.

He took solace in his bedroom, the lights low with just a lamp over his desk. He figured the best course of action was tackling everything one thing at a time. Or else he feared he would drown.

Peter found it kind of funny, how all of his teachers decided to assign work the same week his internship project was due for a presentation. He figured he’d start with his Physics review. The packet had 60 questions, and he hadn’t started yet. His midterm was 40% of his final grade. He couldn’t afford to fail- which he doesn’t think he will- but better safe than sorry.

As he stares at the packet, Peter wonders why he cares so much. Maybe it's because everyone tells him how “lucky” he is. How he has to make his Dads proud. How he has to live up to his Dads expectations. How he has to prove he’s “worthy” of the life he has.

He knows it’s irrational.

But, it's still enough to motivate him to study himself into an early grave.

He stares at the paper… and completely blanks out.

Friday alerts Peter that it is time for dinner. Normally Tony would make dinner, (or at least leave Peter some leftovers), however, he left in such a rush that Peter had to make his own dinner. The only issue with that is, Peter easily loses track of time. Peter would find himself burning several meals and leaving the oven on multiple times.

It’s not that Peter is a bed cook, just not a safe one.

Tony had banned Peter from the kitchen multiple times.

Worse comes to worst, Peter will cook. However, he’d rather not. Whenever Tony and Stephen would usually leave, Pepper or even Harley would come over and cook. They’d make a day of it.

As Peter stares into the fridge, he really starts to contemplate calling or texting Harley. However, he imagines it’d go something like this:

“Harls, how do I make pasta?”

“Peter, you can not be serious…”

Once Peter sees that there isn’t food, he goes back to his room. He doesn’t want to waste more precious study time. Besides, he wasn’t that hungry. Dinner could be a bit later.

Peter went back to his packet and about his day.

Before he knew it, Friday alerted him it was midnight.

“Great..” Peter muttered. He hadn’t eaten and still didn’t understand certain problems in his review packet.

Peter gave up and started getting ready for bed. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. He set his alarm and then remembered, Tony wasn’t here to drive him. He’d have to take the bus.

Peter set his alarm for 5 A.M.

After a quick shower, he settled into bed and checked his phone. No notifications. It seemed his Dads were busy.

“Goodnight,” Peter says to himself. He could feel it, this was going to be a hard week.

Initially, Peter thought he’d be fine. His Dads joke about how it would be a trial run for college. Peter would be responsible for getting to school, work, and all the house chores. “I’ll be fine,” Peter said. “Go! Go save the world!” Peter ushers his Dads out the door after a quick goodbye.

He wishes he went with them.

The alarm hurls him awake. Peter fights every force known to man, plus some, to get out of bed. His phone's brightness slightly blinds him, and he sees the time says 5:10 A.M. and a text from his Dad.

Dad: Have a good day! Just killed a weird alien, will bring goop as souvenir!

9:45 P.M.

Peter hurls himself out of bed and makes his way into the bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Peter shouts as he hops into the freezing shower. He laughs to himself, “Oh, the universe is out to get me.”

Pro: Peter was no longer sleepy.

Con: Peter was freezing in the middle of January, in New York.

He rushes to pack his bag, making sure to shove his review packet in there. Peter hoped to do a few extra questions on the bus. Racing downstairs, Peter quickly grabs a banana for breakfast and races out the door.

“Next bus in 30 minutes,” reads on the bus app. Great, that only means Peter just missed the bus.

He sat at the bus stop, regretting not dressing warmer, and started working on his review packet. The smell of weed hit him as a few people started to gather at the bus stop. It frustrated him that he had to smell weed this early in the morning. That was the main reason he asked Tony to drive him to school.

He wasn’t a fan of starting his day with the horrid stench of weed at 5:30 A.M.

By the time the bus came, Peter had to fight his way on. He ended up standing in the alley, holding on to the overhead rails for support. Any plans to keep studying went out the window.

The morning bus was always oddly crowded. People getting on would shove and jostle Peter, and he simply got used to it.

As luck would have it, Peter forgot to grab his headphones. The nice thing about the morning bus was that no one tried to talk to him. He quietly watched the street view and the soft fall of snow outside.

He found comfort in the route. It was the same route every day. It was a constant.

When he finally got off at Midtown, the time was 6:45 A.M. Peter had 15 minutes before class in which he can continue his studies. He found a small corner by the school and settled down.

“Yo, you got those practice questions I asked for?” MJ asks. She seemed to appear out of thin air and scared the shit out of Peter.

“Oh, no. Sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” He answered as MJ opted to sit next to him. Peter forgot that MJ was in the hospital with her mother and needed help with Academic Decathlon practice questions.

“Ah, don’t sweat it. I just need them before Thursday.” She looks over his shoulder at the packet. “Last minute cramming?”

Peter nods and sighs at the same time. “Yeah. I think I’ll be fine but can never be too sure.”

MJ laughs and quips back “Yeah, don’t be like Flash. He’s going on and on about how he knows he’ll ace it but” MJ leans closer to Peter, “If you look at him closely, you can see the panic in his eyes.”

They shared a laugh before MJ got up to roam around school a bit before class. Peter was feeling a bit more confident, however, his test anxiety was acting up. Bad enough that he has to take this test at the end of the day. Now he’ll just be anxious all day.

Throughout the day, Peter’s head started to hurt. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, mixed with his empty stomach, and his anxiety that started making his head spin.

It was fine, he just needed to get through this midterm. That he forgot about until yesterday. That was worth 40% of his grade. That could tank his 96% “A”. That Flash 100% bombed if his face at lunch was anything to tell by.

If Peter played his cards right, he just needed 81% to end up with 90%. He needs to end the semester with an “A”. He can only afford to get 12 questions wrong. He should have studied earlier. His head is spinning. His palms are sweating. When did it get so hot?

Peter flips over his test and quickly skims the questions. He doesn’t remember what happens next.

He walked out of the classroom, feeling relief that it was finally over. Until he remembers he has to go on patrol.

Peter really didn’t want to go on patrol as he had his Chemistry midterm on Thursday. But, Spider-Man can’t just disappear for a week. So, despite his better judgment, he calls Ned to take his bag.

Normally, Peter loves patrol. He loves swinging from building to building and helping those in need. Peter finds that being Spider-Man is one of the few moments he can truly be himself. No pressure from school, friends, or his Dads. Spider-Man is his window to freedom.

And right now, Peter wants to slam the window shut. Right now, Peter needs to be studying. However, just as he thinks that Peter sees a cat in a tree.

“Hey! Someone a little stuck?” Peter asks the cat, not really expecting a response. (However, he doesn’t ignore the possibility of a talking cat.) Luckily, the cat doesn’t try to scratch him. Peter easily scoops up the cat and returns it to the ground.

“I feel like I should find your owner…” The cat ends up running away behind some home, allowing Peter to conclude that it was an outside cat that simply got stuck.

He wishes his patrol ended there. Over the next 3 hours, the universe decided to line up every petty crime back-to-back. First, Mr. Delmar found himself behind gunpoint. Then, some teenagers decided to rob a gas station. Followed by three guys causing a commotion on the subway. And the cherry on top of this picture-perfect night was a woman getting mugged right as Peter was going to go home.

Peter knows he’s there to help. But sometimes, sometimes he wishes he could be selfish and take the day for himself.

He swings by Ned’s window to collect his bag and makes his way home.

“Welcome home, Peter. It is currently 9:37 P.M.” Friday announces. Peter simply groans and makes his way to the shower. One thing he feels he must do is shower after patrol. Even though he should go to bed, Peter needs to study.

The relief Peter feels as the hot water hits his shoulders is unparalleled. It's the first moment of relaxation all day.

As Peter gets dressed, he notices the clock strikes 10 P.M. That gives him roughly an hour to study. He silences his phone to avoid all distractions and hits the books.

Dad: Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you yet

10:12 P.M.

Pops: Hope you’re doing well, Peter.

10:19 P.M.

Dad: Sleep well, kid. Love ya

10:35 P.M.

He doesn’t notice the missed texts. Peter wakes up on his desk.

His phone is screaming at him from across the room. His head hurts and the lights he left on blind him.

“Shit,” He thinks. Peter pulls himself from the desk, his back in agony and his head pounding. “Friday, what time is it?”

“It is 6 A.M, Peter.”

“Oh, shit.” Peter thinks. “I’m going to miss the bus.” Immediately, Peter throws on the first thing he sees and races out the door. No time for breakfast. Now that he thinks about it, he missed dinner yesterday.

As he rushes to the bus stop, Peter realizes the bus is approaching. Luckily, there's a line of people to get on so Peter makes it on in time. Way too close for comfort.

By now, his head is pounding. He keeps forgetting to eat and he’s not getting enough sleep. He’s still sore from patrol and he’s anxious about his tests. And now, he’s out of breath from chasing the bus.

It’s not like today is going to get any better. Peter knows he still has to do the Academic Decathlon questions MJ asked for. Plus, he needs to finish patrol quickly to review some formulas that were wrong on his internship project.

Once again, MJ finds him sitting in the same corner, now reviewing Chemistry. Peter sees her from the corner of his eye and prepares to let her down again.

“Before you ask, no, I still don’t have the AcaDeca questions. I’m sorry, I’ll try my hardest to get them done by tomorrow.” Peter doesn't promise and he isn’t even sure what he just said is true.

He doesn’t really know why he can’t just tell MJ he doesn’t have the time to do them.

Well, Peter knows why.

He doesn’t want to let her down. He doesn’t want to admit he can’t do something. He doesn’t want to admit he bit off more than he can chew. Peter wants to be someone people can rely on. But right now, he can’t even rely on himself.

“No sweat, just let me know if it’s too much. I can always ask Ned to do them instead.” MJ calmly answers back.

Peter should tell her that would be better, but something stops him.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter finds himself saying. "Do you have any Advil on you?”

“Yeah, why? Headache?”

Peter nods his head as MJ hands him the small pill. “Slept horribly.” He doesn’t even bother getting water and dry swallows the pill. MJ shoots him a look of sympathy and understanding.

“Happens to the best of us,” she says. With that, MJ bids Peter farewell and he resumes his studies.

When 3rd period rolls around, Peter is hit with the fact that he indeed has a history test today. He’s not panicking, just annoyed he forgot. It seemed like things were slipping from his memory recently.

The class is silent as they take their test and Peter starts to feel dizzy again. He didn’t eat during lunch and instead kept studying. He drinks some water, which does help him a little, but right now Peter just wants to put his head down.

He finishes his test and makes a dash for the bathroom. He just needs a minute to breathe. “Okay, just calm down. Just relax and focus,” Peter thinks as he splashes water onto his face. He begins to form a list and organize himself:

Patrol.

Internship formula.

Chemistry Midterm.

English test.

Academic Decathlon Questions.

And dinner.

He keeps forgetting that one.

Peter just needs to better manage his time. Other than that, he sees no reason to be overwhelmed. He’s just all over the place. However, his head wasn’t feeling much better.

The nurse can’t give him any medication so Peter will have to wait till he gets home.

The bell finally rings and Peter makes a dash for an empty alleyway. He doesn’t bother giving Ned his bag as he simply webs it to the wall. Peter jumps into his suit and begins his quick patrol. No more than an hour, the city gets Spider-Man for one hour and that’s it. Today, Peter Parker is needed more than Spider-Man.

Rushing to wrap the patrol up, Peter ends up slamming into a pole.

“Fuck!” He shouts and concludes patrol then and there. His arms are throbbing but that doesn’t matter, Peter still needs to get home and review his project.

The tower is freezing, and Peter makes a run to the bathroom. With no time to revel in the soothing hot water, he quickly cleans up the sweat and blood and changes into his comfort clothes. The other interns will simply deal with Peter in Harley’s hoodie and sweatpants.

Before going down to the lab, Peter goes to the medicine cabinet. His head is killing him and the pain in his arms isn’t going away. He looks at the bottle of Advil and opens it. He takes two for his headache and two more for his arms.

As he swallows the pills, Peter realizes that he hasn’t eaten yet. However, he then remembers Friday exists. “Friday, could you order a pizza and deliver it to the lab for me?”

“Of course, Peter.” Friday happily responds.

With that settled, Peter heads to the lab.

Peter is face to face with the whiteboard and one problem on it. He’s been going over it for hours. He keeps ending up with a remainder, however, it ruins the machine's code. All the other interns have taken a stab at it and none have been successful.

“This is going to be the death of me.” One of them says, which by the size of their eye bags, seems to be right.

“I swear I’m going insane. How do we keep getting a remainder? We’ve used every rational method…” Another intern says.

“We have to be missing something super obvious. Maybe, we need a new set of eyes?” Peter says and then realizes his error. They have all been staring at the same problem for the better course of an hour now, and probably all have tunnel vision.

The only issue is, they've run the problem by every intern.

“Are you going to call your Dads? I bet they could figure this out.”

And that comment struck a nerve in Peter. Mainly because he knows he can solve this. He’s solved this type of problem thousands of times before. But for some reason, he’s stuck.

They have to figure this out, as they are set to present this robot to the pantheon of scientists at Stark Industries on Thursday.

“Wait…” one of the interns speaks up, “Isn’t Harley in today?”

Peter silently cries tears of joy.

The universe is throwing him a bone.

Harley is an intern in every way but legally. Peter rushes to call the front desk and hunts Harley down. “Send Keener to lab 37, immediately. Tell him it’s life or death.”

They all let out a sigh of relief, finally having a small break from the same numbers on the whiteboard. It’s 8:45 P.M. and Harley is met with five interns surrounded by several cups of coffee and energy drinks.

“What’s going on?” Harley asks in a slight panic.

Peter doesn’t answer. He simply hands him a dry-erase marker and places him in front of the whiteboard. Harley doesn’t need direction, as Peter can see his mind running as he stares at the problem. They all leave him be.

Peter takes the time to pick up his pizza and eat a bit. He forgot how good New York pizza is. With some food in his stomach, Peter quietly sneaks off to take another pill. His arms are still throbbing and his head is killing him. At least now he has some food in his system.

He comes back to see Harley on a completely new board, the previous one filled with equations.

“Still can’t crack it?” he asks.

“Darling, I think you finally got me. What the hell is this?”

“I have no idea. We’ve been stuck on this for weeks and keep getting a remainder, which then causes a system error in the bot. Thought you’d be able to figure it out.” Peter answers.

“Do you guys still have your previous proofs?”

“Yeah, right over there.” Peter points to a stack of paper on a nearby desk. Harley nods and ruffles through the stack, his eyes quickly skimming the numbers.

Peter goes off to grab some water. He gets the compulsion to check his phone and notices he has a few texts from Tony and Stephen.

Dad: Just checking in, all good?

6:11 P.M.

Dad: Would you like an alien finger as a souvenir?

8:24 P.M

Peter laughs at the messages and sends back a quick selfie to make sure Tony knows he is indeed alive (despite what his body is telling him). To his surprise, Tony replies right away and they spend a few seconds discussing TSA guidelines for transporting severed alien fingers.

Harley then speaks up and asks, “Peter, what’s the square root of -1?”

“It’s i.” He quickly responds. The square root of -1 does not exist, so its i, which stands for an imaginary number.

“Right, and who wrote this?” Harley calls him over to review some work. He points to some long equation where there’s a smudged number.

“Does that say 1 or i?” He asks.

Peter sees red. They have all spent weeks looking over this problem, going slightly insane, all because of some poor penmanship.

“That’s supposed to be an i..”

“Yeah, but then they added it to the equation as if it were a one- which throws everything off-”

“By one,” Peter concludes. “That’s why we keep having a remainder.”

In a moment of pure blinding rage, Peter throws all the work onto the floor. His entire team had spent weeks refining their robot, all because someone misread a number. Peter was fuming.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Peter shouts.

This grabs everyone's attention. They all gather around Harley, who's picking up the paper on the floor. “Hey, at least we caught it now and not in front of the professionals.” Harley tries to reassure Peter.

The group nods, but Peter doesn’t care.

He’s beyond exhausted and at the end of his patience.

He quickly checks his phone and sees that it’s 10:22 P.M. He’s even more frustrated as he still needs to shower and do homework. However, before he storms off he speaks up, “Next time we do something like this, we are all making our numbers and variables extremely legible.” He doesn’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces and storms off to his room.

The entire fiasco was making his head hurt even more, so Peter pops another pill before bed. At least he ate today. Peter will take the small victory.

He lost track of how many pills he took today.

Before going to bed, Peter realizes that he doesn’t care about bothering Happy. He calls Happy and -borderline begs- him to take him to school. Happy agrees and Peter is over the moon he can sleep in a bit more.

The extra hours of sleep do wonders for Peter. He’s able to take a shower without rushing and is even able to eat a light breakfast. Peter allows himself to stop and breathe. He feels like he hasn’t had the chance to.

“Kid, are you ready to go?” Happy calls out as Peter quickly packs his bag. He nods and they both make their way to the cars. Peter hops in the back and, to his surprise, ends up falling asleep.

(It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He looks like shit.)

It was a much needed power nap, and Peter felt slightly better. He says goodbye to Happy and makes his way to his corner. He sees Ned sitting there, eagerly waiting for him.

“Woah, dude are you okay?” Ned asks with concern. Peter simply waves him off and says he’s fine. Ned doesn’t question it and simply changes the subject to the Academic Decathlon training they have in two days. With that, Peter remembers that he needs to finish those questions. He makes a mental note to finally start them.

Peter knows he has his English test today, and he honestly can’t be bothered to review. He knows he’ll be fine.

Instead, he begins the Academic Decathlon questions he promised MJ he’d have ready for tomorrow. Now, the challenge with that is that he needs to come up with questions that are challenging- but not impossible. Which is extremely difficult.

He promised MJ 30 questions: Ten math questions, ten science questions, and ten history/geography questions. In the first two sections, Peter had it in the bag. He pulled several problems from projects he’d seen in the labs and even a few Tony used on his suits.

The history/geography ones stumped him. This was MJ’s field of expertise, not Peter’s.

However, Peter’s too stubborn to ask for help. It doubles as reviewing, in a weird way. Peter pulls several articles from various historical moments and begins crafting some questions. He convinces himself that he’s reviewing his reading compression skills.

By the time his English test rolls around, Peter has managed to complete 26 questions. He’s running on pure adrenaline and 2 more Advills, but he’s getting it done. Like clockwork, Peter blanks out during his test. He’s sure he did fine, English wasn’t ever challenging to him.

However, he can’t afford to worry about that. In the grand scheme of things, that test was less than 1% of his stress. He almost forgot about his Chemistry midterm tomorrow. Plus, he had his presentation and AcaDeca training the following day.

Peter sometimes wishes he knew how to say no.

Patrol was starting to feel more like a job. Peter dreaded it and that frustrated him because Peter loved helping people. He loved seeing people smile and making their day. Being Spider-Man is one of the things Peter’s the proudest of. However, he can’t help others if he can’t even help himself. That’s evident by the empty pill bottle in his bag.

Once again, Peter is convinced the universe is out to get him. Everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. Mr. Delmar gets held at gunpoint, the bank has two attempted robberies, Peter counts seven muggings, and finally, some punks thought it would be funny to rob the pawn shop run by the old lady. Honestly, he couldn’t catch a break.

And it was one after another. Spider-Man didn’t stop and was constantly moving between crimes. He was getting overwhelmed and his movements were getting sloppy. The worst part was that Peter wasn’t pulling back his punches. There was so much going on at once that controlling his strength was the last thing on his mind.

That’s when he finally accepted he had a problem.

He saw the blood on his hands and the horrified looks of the criminals he was hurting. Thankfully, most civilians had fled the area so they didn’t witness the grotesque image of Peter decking them with ease. So Peter had to call the cops and the ambulance to patch up the bodies he left behind.

He was getting irritable and irrational. He has to cut the patrol short. Spider-Man is becoming more of a danger rather than an aid.

His knuckles are busted open and he has bruises all over his chest. When he gets home, Peter downs another 6 pills to try and numb the pain. He hasn't eaten and he hasn’t showered but that isn’t his concern. He sloppy puts on some bandages over his wounds and immediately hits the books.

By now it's 8:48 P.M. and Peter is about to pass out. He’s staring at his desk with his chem packet and AcaDeca questions all spread out. He’s almost done but he's beginning to see spots. His head is pounding and no matter how many pills he takes, the pain isn't going away. It hurts to move and he’s hungry and he knows he stinks.

Finally, it seems the universe has him beat and Peter snaps.

Peter- against his will- breaks down. He’s crying his eyes out and his head is killing him. Peter can feel a migraine coming on and he doesn’t think he’ll survive. He begins hyperventilating and he runs for more pills. Whether or not they work doesn’t matter, Peter’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

By this point, Peter’s blocked out all his surroundings. Therefore, he doesn’t notice when Harley walks onto the floor and calls for him.

“Hey, Peter! So, for our presentation, I was thinking we should maybe revisit the previous reversion with-” Harley stops dead in his tracks when he finds Peter.

Peter knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew he was destroying his body. But Peter was ashamed.

He was too prideful to ask for help.

Harley simply looks at him, and Peter knows what it looks like. His hair is a mess, his hands are bloody, his face is bruised, his eye bags are heavy, and the empty pill bottle on the floor seals the deal.

“Peter, what did you do?” Harley asks with worry and anger in his voice.

“I’m fine. Harls. I’m just stressed.” Peter waves off. The last thing he wants is for Harley to lecture him. “I’m okay, you can go. I have homework I need to finish.”

“No! I’m not gonna sit around and watch you do this to yourself!” Harley yells. He starts to pace the living room back and forth, shaking his head and looking in shock.

“You preach on and on about how drugs are the downfall of our generation and now- what? You’re popping pills? Peter, what the hell?”

Peter feels awful. He feels like shit. He wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Peter knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he's in the wrong. But… he just wants to help people. He just wants to meet their expectations. And now… he feels like a failure, and Harley is only rubbing salt in the wound.

“Harley, please…” Peter breaks down and Harley snaps out of his angry trance.

“Please, just hold me.” Peter wails as he falls onto the floor. He holds himself tight as he tries to process the millions of thoughts swimming in his head. Harley suddenly drops to the floor and begins to comfort Peter.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I’m so stressed. And it started small.” Peter starts. He isn’t sure if he hears Harley ask questions, but now he can’t stop talking.

“I was just having such bad headaches and taking them made it better. But then I started taking them whenever I got stressed and- I was so stressed this week. Patrol was so hard and they helped with the pain, and I lost track of how many I’ve had. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, but I already feel like shit, Harls. I don’t need you reminding me of the failure I am. I already know that! I let you down, I let my Dads down, I let myself down. I let everyone down!”

“I just want my Dads.” Peter sobs into Harley’s arms. “I’m so tired…” Tears are filling his eyes and it's getting harder to breathe. His chest feels tight and he’s in so much mental anguish and physical pain that he isn’t even really present at the moment.

Harley rocks Peter back and forth. He runs his fingers through Peter’s hair and kisses his forehead. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I snapped. I just… I care about you so much I got worried.”

“Where are my Dads?”

“I’ll call them right now.” Harley then forces Peter to look at him.”Tell me what you need. Tell me how I can help you.” Peter can’t verbally answer but he simply signals towards his chest. Harley removes his suit and notices the black and blue bruises with dried blood. Harley also notices Peter's greasy hair.

“Let me make you a meal and run you a bath,” Harley whispers into Peter’s hair and hugs him tighter.

While Harley goes to the bathroom, Peter passes out on the floor, finally allowing himself some peace. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He wakes up to the smell of chicken soup and Harley gently shaking him.

“Hey, the bath’s ready. I called your Dads and they’ll be here in the morning. Also, I talked to Ned. You’re not going tomorrow.” Harley says as he lifts Peter onto his feet and helps him remove his suit.

“Harls, I have to go tomorrow. I have my midterm and I need to give MJ the questions I promised her.” Peter answers.

Harley simply shakes his head. “I say you take it next week, however, if it bothers you that much, after tomorrow you can go. I’m sure Tony can sort that out with your teacher. But you need to take at least a day off. And if the presentation stresses you out that much, I can cover for you.”

Peter should feel relieved but he doesn’t want to give up just yet. He’s done so much to make it through this week, he just wants to see it to the end. “Can we talk about this later?” Peter asks.

He’s down to his boxers and Harley has a full view of the bruises littered all over Peter’s body. Peter can see Harley is fighting the urge to say no, but instead, he simply nods his head and kisses his cheek. “Sure, just go get cleaned up.”

Peter agrees and makes his way to the bathtub. Nice that Harley probably figured Peter can’t stand long enough for a shower.

The water is warm and sends immediate relief throughout his whole body. Peter sinks into the tub and lets the water engulf him. He looks at his body and notices just how severe his injuries are. He should probably have Stephen check those out when he gets back.

After an incredible half hour in the tub, Peter finally gets out. He didn’t realize how much he truly needed that.

He changes into some light PJs and finds Harley by the kitchen island with a bowl of chicken soup.

Peter can't remember the last time he had an actual meal. Harley sat next to him as Peter slowly drank the soup. “So, what about tomorrow?” Harley asks.

Peter checks his phone and realizes it's 10:41 P.M. He had two options: he could either take tomorrow off, or he could suck it up.

“Would you mind helping me study?” He asks. Before Harley protests, Peter cuts him off. “I have my midterm first thing in the morning, after that I’ll have Happy take me home. That lets me give MJ the questions I owe her.” Peter didn’t go through the worst week of his life only to not see it till the end. He was stubborn like that.

Harley didn’t seem to like the idea, but he agreed nonetheless. When Peter finished his soup, they both headed to his room and Harley quizzed him on a few problems. Peter was feeling okay, his anxiety was just through the roof.

They both called it quits at around midnight. Harley crashed on the couch and Peter was out like a light.

He only had two days left. He was so close.

When the morning rolls around, Peter wishes he chose to stay home. He is groggy and tired, but still feeling the best he’s felt all week. He assumes Harley was already up and making him breakfast while he went to shower.

They had both agreed that Peter would skip patrol. He was in no condition to help anyone and would probably just hurt himself again, which isn't helpful to anyone.

To his surprise, however, his Dads were home. He walked into the living room to see Stephen making breakfast (no sign of Harley).

“Good morning,” Peter says as he goes to hug his Dad.

“Hey, Harley told us what happened. Just text us when your exam is over and we’ll come to get you. I also need to check your injuries, Peter.” Stephen said as he lightly tossed Peter’s hair and serves him a small stack of pancakes.

Peter silently hopes Harley didn’t mention the pills.

By the time Peter finished his breakfast, he wanted to vomit. He hadn’t stomached that much food all week and his body was trying to reject it. He holds it down as Tony pulls up to Peter’s school. “Text me the second you’re done. Promise?”

Peter sees the worry in Tony’s eyes and simply nods. He already feels guilty. He doesn’t need the reminder. (Looks like Tony understood that.)

As Peter gets to school, he immediately tracks down MJ. He hands her the questions, doesn’t wait for a thank you, and runs to the bathroom.

He can just feel vomit rising up his throat. His eyes are losing focus and he’s currently heaving over the toilet. “Maybe I should have stayed home,” Peter thinks as he stares into the mirror over the sink. His dark circles are getting worst and his skin is breaking out. He splashes some water on his face and quietly reminds himself that he’s almost done. “Just two more days.”

The bell rings and Peter heads off to his classroom. He’s taking his midterm first thing in the morning and right now, he’s fighting to stay upright.

Almost routine, Peter receives his test and flips it over. He knows he knows the material, he just has test anxiety. The studying he did with Harley definitely helps, so he’s confident he’ll do fine.

He ends up blanking out. He doesn’t remember much of the exam, nor many of the questions. However, he feels lighter, like a weight has been taken off his shoulder.

Peter ends up vomiting in the bathroom.

He’s heaving over the toilet and clinging on for dear life. His throat burns and the aftertaste of his breakfast is in his mouth, with a mixture of acid. He’s drenched in sweat and can’t see straight and he feels a migraine coming on.

Quickly, he texts Tony that he can pick him up. Peter gets off the floor and washes his face in the sink. His face is sickly pale and the lights are blinding him. Out of habit, Peter reaches for his pockets to get a pill, only to realize that he doesn’t have any.

That movement alone scares him.

He’s worried he’s feeling dependent.

When he leaves the bathroom, he quickly tracks down MJ in the library. “MJ, here are the questions I promised you. I’m so sorry they’re so late.” He profusely, but rapidly apologizes to her as he hands her the packet.

She doesn’t even look at them, instead places her hand on his shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Pete, are you okay?” Just being forced to look at her is giving him a headache. The library lights are a blinding yellow and he can hear noise from the hallway.

“Yeah, just a little headache,” Peter says, but MJ still looks at him with worry. “MJ, I’m fine.” Peter doesn’t even believe in himself. He has that gazed look people have after they vomit their guts out and a small twitch in his eyes due to the lighting.

It seems like she doesn’t believe him either. Before she speaks, before she pities him, Peter runs to the office, knowing Tony will arrive any second.

As he waits in the office, he decides it's better to wait in the bathroom. The office had too many people talking, stapling, and filing. The office had too much noise.

That was the main thing he hated about his powers, his senses were heightened, making his migraines a hundred times worse. He’s on the brink of tears when the receptionist yells out his name to alert him that he’s leaving.

It seems that Tony notices so he doesn’t speak, simply thanks the staff, and ushers him into the car. Tony shuts off the radio and hands Peter a jacket in the backseat. Immediately, Peter covers his eyes and attempts to drift off to sleep. He’s just realizing how tired he is, mentally that is.

The ride home is a much needed break. He only has to get through tomorrow’s AcaDeca practice. (He’s not expecting to stay conscious during class).

When they do eventually arrive at the Tower, Peter can’t stand. His body has completely given out on him. Tony ends up carrying the boy inside and up the elevator to the medical compound.

“Okay, kid, you’re scaring the hell out of me. What happened?” Peter wakes up on one of the medical beds and is met with the horrible blinding lights in his face.

He’s too overwhelmed to talk and simply points to them, silently begging Tony to turn them off. He does, thankfully.

“I took on too much,” Peter says. “Everything just pilled up on the same week, and you guys weren’t there, and I don’t know how to say no..” The tears finally begin to spill as Peter talks. His head is killing him and his body is sworn and the voice in his head is nagging him even more. The look on Tony’s face says it all. Peter let him down, Peter disappointed him, and Peter worried him. “I’m sorry, I thought I could handle it.”

Tony doesn’t answer and simply steps aside as Stephen appears to tend to Peter’s medical needs. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands off to the side and looks at the ground. Peter can’t read his face, he can’t tell what's going on in his head. Is he angry? Upset? Not knowing is somewhat worse.

When Stephen finishes, he tells Peter that he’s simply dehydrated and only has a few bruises, nothing extreme. Seems like most of his injuries were healed due to his enhanced abilities.

No one says anything. They all look at each other and quietly leave for their own spaces. Peter can’t muster the courage to tell them what happened. Right now, he just wants the ground to swallow him whole. Peter makes it to his room, takes a much needed shower, and tries to sleep. He’s awakened, however, by Tony at his door with a plate of food.

“Oh, thanks but I’m not really-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Tony coldly states and Peter shuts up. He hands Peter the plate and Peter realizes he isn’t leaving until Tony sees him clean the plate.

Reluctantly, Peter ate. His body needed to get used to consuming food on a regular schedule, not just every other day. When Peter finishes, he hands Tony the plate and apologies once again.

Tony doesn’t say anything, instead reaches over and kisses his forehead.

The next morning is a little better. Peter feels well-rested and his stomach isn’t doing flips. (He’s happy he kept his food down this time.)

He knows today his only task is to make it through the AcaDeca training (which would be easy, as he made the questions), and make it through his internship presentation. That alone takes the pressure off him, with a bonus that it’s Friday. Peter desperately needed the weekend.

He doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajama pants. He just throws on a hoodie and walks out the door. When he gets to school, it seems like MJ and Ned plotted to corner him. They both catch him in his usual corner and block any exits. “Pete, you gotta talk to us. Are you okay?” Ned starts out sweetly.

“Yeah, you look like a bus hit you on the way here,” said MJ. He laughs at her bluntness but assures them that everything is okay. (It’s not, but he thinks he’s getting better)

Today is just about staying awake- if he can even manage that. His migraine is still lingering and the school bells still hurt, but he thinks he’ll be okay.

Peter is proven wrong the minute he sits at his desk. Once he’s in his chair, his head is on the desk and he’s out cold. His body is catching up on the sleep he’s missed all week. No one bothers to wake him up, and if they did, Peter didn’t notice. Today marks the first day Peter slept in every class. Usually, he’d chug coffee to keep himself awake, but today he just couldn’t find the strength.

Every time the bells ring to switch classes, he’s violently jolted awake. Some teachers tried to check up on him, however, Peter still refuses any help and claims he’s okay.

When the final bell rings, Peter is beyond overjoyed. (No more loud bells in his ears.) He quickly makes his way to the auditorium for the AcaDeca training and throws himself into a chair.

Slowly, the rest of the team makes their way inside and immediately, “Parker, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Flash speaks up. And Peter can’t even be mad, he knows he looks awful. Flash saw him completely passed out in chemistry and history. Thankfully, MJ shuts him down and begins the training.

As MJ begins reading out questions to the team, Peter gets a text on his phone.

Harls: Hey, hope you’re feeling a bit better. The presentation got moved to 7 tonight, btw. Xx

3:56 P.M.

With a sigh of relief, Peter relaxes a bit and is able to focus on the training. While most of it was pretty easy, given that he made the questions, MJ threw in some surprise ones as well. The team discussed strategies and tactics, but Peter didn’t really listen. He patiently waited for the MJ to call the meeting to an end before he bolted out the door.

Tony was already outside the school. He’s patiently waiting in what appears to be Happy’s car. Peter hops in and just slumps into the seat. “Remind me to never take on any more responsibilities,” he says as he throws his bag into the backseat.

Tony laughs and replies, ‘Kid, you and I both know that you need to learn to say no. It’s about you taking on too much- well, partially that- but it’s also that you take on extra when you can easily say no.”

Peter thinks about that for a moment before responding, “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just say no to someone in need.” By now, Tony is pulling onto the road as Peter leans his head against the window. “That’s true, just be mindful of those who need help and those who are taking advantage of you. Remember, put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.”

What Tony says rings true, and Peter sits with it for a bit. Maybe people are taking advantage of him. Or maybe he just took on too much. Right now, Peter is too exhausted to figure out which one applies to his current situation.

Eventually, Peter allows himself to close his eyes, finally allowing himself a moment of peace. (Sleeping on school desks is never comfortable, ignore if anyone tells you otherwise.) As he lays back against the seats, with the soothing hum of the car, Peter drifts off to sleep.

When they arrive at the Tower, Tony isn’t sure whether or not to wake Peter. It looks like he’s finally comfortable and finally resting. However, one quick glance at the clock and he knows Peter would be upset if he didn’t wake him up in time to review for his presentation. “Hey,” Tony starts gently shaking Peter, “We’re home. It’s 4:30 P.M. Figured you and Harley would want some time to prep for tonight, and maybe even have some dinner before.”

Peter musters up all the strength he was to get up and make his way out of the car. He thanks Tony and sluggishly drags himself to the lab. The bright lights from the Tower and the constant jostling are enough to wake him up a tad, but he’s still rather dazed.

As he enters the lab, Peter is met with Harley and his team all frantically reviewing. Harley is pointing at people and assigning roles as he catches a glimpse that Peter arrived. “-And you, get Peter a coffee, please!” The intern runs off and quickly returns with a cup of expresso for Peter.

“Alright, what do we need to go over,” Peter says as he takes a sip of his drink- and suddenly he feels much more awake. Harley begins running down everything they’ve covered. Who will be discussing the prompt, the robot, the calculations, and its real-world implications. “We just need someone to finalize the posters. Do you have the files, Peter?”

Peter nods, taking another sip of his expresso. (He can feel his entire body shaking.) “Yeah, I got them. Just to clarify, it’s one poster showing the rendered robot, another showing the entire crew, and one more for the overview and prompt?” Harley nods as Peter sets off to work in the corner. He and the team had agreed that he would begin the presentation and introduce their design, leaving the math to the other interns and Harley, who was far more awake and present. Peter quickly notices that he’s drank all of his expresso, and goes off to get more. His body is shaking and he feels dizzy, but he needs to stay awake. He just needs to make it through tonight.

Opening his computer, Peter finalizes all the posters and sends them down to the printing lab. He takes it as his excuse to get up and walk around, making sure his legs don’t fall asleep. He starts looking over all the reports, research, and calculations they did, and everything looks good. However, you can never be too sure.

Harley seems to be stressed out of his mind. “Okay, we start in an hour. Anything else we need to get done?” he frantically asks the group. After a series of ‘no’, Peter mentions that he’s going to pick up the posters and bring them up and that it should be the final thing they need. Harley lets out a sigh of relief and opts to join Peter as they both head downstairs.

The ride down the elevator is calming. Peter takes it as his chance to drop his head onto Harley’s shoulder. To this, Harley brings up his hand and begins playing with Peter’s hair. “I’m so tired..: Peter says, mumbling into his shoulders, The expresso is making him shake and he refuses to drink more, genuinely concerned for his health. “I know. You just need to do this one last thing, then you’re free.” Harley says as he places a light kiss on Peter’s head before they step put the elevator. Thankfully, the printing lab was empty. Both boys quickly gather the posters and then stand there for a moment.

“You know, I’m really sorry I snapped at you,” Harley says quietly. He’s looking down at the floor and won’t look up. “I was just so scared, I’m sorry if I made it worse.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Peter starts, “Yeah, it hurt, but I needed the reality check. I was so far in my own head that I didn’t realize what exactly I was doing. I didn’t consider how it’d affect me, or you…” Peter replies. They both look up and meet each others’ eyes. Peter notices the beginning of tears forming in Harley’s eyes and he makes his way over to catch them before they fall.

“I had a stumble. I’m…” and Peter wants to say that he’s okay, but he doesn’t want to lie anymore. He wants to fall over. He wants to cry. He wants to go to bed. “I’m getting help,” he concludes. Harley nods in approval of that statement and makes his way to kiss Peter’s foreahead. I’m just happy you’re okay,” He whispers.

Peter smiles and after a few seconds of enjoying each others embrace, they pull apart and begin to head back upstairs. By now, it’s 6:17 P.M., and Peter chooses to get a meal and a shower in before he presents. He is fighting to stay awake, as the espresso is wearing off and he can feel himself crashing soon.

After a quick warm shower, Peter finds himself a plate of food waiting for him at the table. Stephen is in the kitchen cleaning dishes when he noticies Peter. “Hey, I saved you a plate. Nervous?”

Peter immediately begins to scarf down the food. He feels slightly more refreshed after the shower, however the food finally makes him feel complete. His stomach is no longer growling and he’s not so light headed anymore. After a little small talk with Stephen, Peter feels a little more relaxed. They fall into a casual conversation, delicately avoiding the topic of Peter’s situation. He’s thankful, truly. He feels guilty enough and hearing about how it hurrt those around him just makes him feel worse.

By now, its 6:48 P.M. and Harley comes rushing into the kitchen. Without forming a coherent sentence, Peter understands what Harley is trying to say. “Robot. Present. Prep. Now.” Immediately, they both get up and begin bolting to the lab. In the distance, they hear Stephen wish them good luck.

The reason they were both so stressed was because of their reputations. It meant the expectations were even higher. These weren’t scientist that were just impressed because Peter was related to Tony Stark, these are people who couldn’t give less of a shit about Tony’s fame. However, they took it into account when setting the expectation.

When they make it to the lab, the other interns are also franctincally reviewing flash cards and pacing around the room. Peter luckily didn’t need to prepare for much, he just reviewed the outline of the introduction. Instead, he opted for drinking more espresso, trying to make it through the final push. His reward after this would be a long awaited nap.

As the scientist enter the room, Peter escapes into his safe space. If it was nay other day, he’d be fully present and in the moment, which might have caused an anxiety attack. However, Peter is just too tired to give a fuck. He disappears into his safe space and puts on his confident persona.

He goes trough the overview and introduction smoothly. Not really remembering where he is, just that he’s talking. Peter isn’t even present in the moment when the team begins to discuss the calcutioans and revisions they went through.

Peter only snaps back to reality when the board claps and congratulations them. Their faces ins’t giving anything away, he can;t tell if they’re disappointed or impressed. But honestly, he doesn’t care.

They end up finishing at 9:51 P.M. and Peter is beat. He can hardly stand up straight, and Harley is supporting his every step. When they finally making it to his bedroom, Peter dones;t even bother to get under the sheets. He falls onto his bed and the minute his head hits the mattress, he is out like a light.

Harley chuckles at the sight and draps a blanket over Peter, before kissing his forehead. Peter finally gets a break after, what he considers to be, the worst week of his life.

End.

Reposting the fic I posted here a few months ago. Wanna get into formatting more on tumblr!

#peter parker #harley keener #parkner #peter x harley #peter parker x harley keener #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction #i love them #mlm #gay

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jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Caving In [3]

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

Words: 7,023

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, a nightmare, flirting, fluff, jason and reader trauma-bonding, talks of abuse (it’s not super detailed), mentions of food being withheld, gar feels like his trauma isn’t “enough” (unrelated to the trauma-bonding), mentions of death, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of bruises

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

A/N: So, this is the chapter where I decided to change who the fic was about because I mean hi lol so this chapter is Jason heavy 😂 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 movie came to a close twenty minutes ago, Rachel already off to her room to get some sleep but Gar and Jason are still in the living room with you asleep. Gar doesn’t want to move you, he’s never been a big fan of waking people up when they’re asleep, especially when it’s obvious they haven’t slept very much. On top of that though, he’s not sure if waking you up would scare you and then you’d burn him or something. So, he figures it might be best to just let you sleep. Jason volunteered to hang out with him for a little bit anyway.

Jason looks over and his eyes just land on you. You look peaceful and kind of nice when you’re not being a snarky bitch to him. Though, he does kind of give as good as he gets not that he’d ever admit that of course. And maybe he likes that you actually have a bit of fire in your words when you talk to him. Gar and Rachel normally brush off his mean and sarcastic comments and Dick can never be bothered. You though, you play along and maybe he thinks it’s a little fun.

“Why are you staring at her, dude? It’s weird.” Gar looks away from his phone to look at Jason.

Jason shakes his head, grabbing his own phone to scroll through Twitter. “I wasn’t staring.” He mutters, his cheeks turning a bright red.

“Yeah, you were.” Gar insists. “Don’t make it weird, she’s nice and it’s cool to have someone new around.”

“I’m not making it fucking weird, man.” Jason sighs before he looks back over, glancing between Gar and you. “You gonna go for it though?” Jason raises his brows with the question, choosing to deflect.

Gar’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I just said don’t make it weird.” Gar’s voice goes up an octave with his words. “She’s been here a day.”

Jason chuckles more to himself than at Gar. “I’m just trying to figure out the rules. You’re my friend and I don’t wanna overstep, man.” He has this grin that absolutely says he will overstep if not told otherwise.

Gar’s forehead wrinkles with Jason’s words and if it were anyone else, maybe he’d be surprised by how fast he wants this move but it’s Jason. The same guy who uses 420 and 69 (or both together) as passcodes so Gar can’t actually be too surprised. And Gar also knows that if he doesn’t answer Jason, Jason is going to do what he wants. He’s an asshole, sure, but he’s not a half-bad friend, actually.

“I don’t know.” Gar shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

Jason hums. “So, I can go for it then? If I want?” Jason asks and then quickly follows up with more. “Not that I do, I’m just asking.”

“Right.” Gar deadpans and you aren’t an article of clothing they’re swapping because it’s nice or something.

You’re a living breathing human being who has the right to make your own decisions. Of course, Gar knows that’s not what Jason is getting at during this or anything. He’s asking if he can flirt or try to actually get with you if you’re interested but it doesn’t make Gar feel any better. You’ve been here a day and maybe Gar just wants you to settle in before Jason jumps down your throat about it. And, to be completely fair, Gar does think you’re very pretty but he actually wants to take the time to get know you before he decides if he’d even be interested. He’s just here having fun learning to be a Titan.

“Maybe we just let her come to us if she’s interested.” Gar proposes, a partial way to get Jason to drop it. “After, she actually gets settled.”

“Hey,” Jason defends himself, but his voice is still quieter than it normally is. “It’s just a question, she seemed to be comfortable around you is all.” Jason glances to you once more before going back to his phone. “Obviously.”

“Can we drop this? She is right here.” Gar slightly shifts in his seat, not enough to wake up you.

“She’s asleep.” Jason scoffs before looking back at Gar who just looks annoyed. “Alright, damn chill out. I’ll leave her alone for a while.”

Gar nods, not having anything else to add on the topic and Jason drops it. The boys go back to their phones and have some conversation here and there about Twitter threads and TikToks they find. Nothing substantial really comes from any of it but both of them enjoy the time. Gar actually likes hanging out with Jason like this, he hasn’t had a best friend in a long time and this feels normal to him. Turning into a tiger usually makes him feel a little freakish, especially after spending so much time at Doom Manor where they were pretty much described as freaks. It was hurtful, he just wants to be normal and having movie nights with Jason and Rachel feels normal.

It doesn’t matter how much trauma any of them have when there’s a movie on and they’re just hanging out. It’s just them and when it’s him and Jason, that’s all there is. Normalcy. Even with you, a new girl, sleeping on him. In a way, it even feels a little comforting with you laying your head on him because he’s not a scary tiger. He’s just a boy.

After another half hour, Jason leaves Gar to head to the training room. Gar tried to convince him to go to bed but Jason doesn’t listen to anyone so now it’s just Gar and you. He’s getting tired himself and he’s heavily debating on waking you up so he can go in his own bed. But, the debate doesn’t last long because suddenly, you shoot off of his shoulder, heaving for air. You sit forward, eyes wide as Gar slightly jerks away from you as a reflex.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks, leaning back over and forward to get a look at your face.

You suck in a breath, your chest heaving with every breath and your heart pounding. You barely even comprehend you’re still in the living room when Gar asks you the question. All you can do is nod and try to breathe. This is really going to be your life now? Tortured in reality by a psychopath and now tortured in a dream state by the same fucking psychopath? How the fuck is that fair? You finally escaped only to be haunted by your dreams in a place you actually kind of, sort of, feel safe in.

“Nightmare?” Gar asks, not moving from his position.

You turn your head to the right to look over your shoulder back at Gar. “Y-yeah.” You nod softly before looking forward, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

Gar’s brows furrow. “For what?”

“Uh…” No one’s asked you what you’re sorry for before. You’re always supposed to be sorry for either getting angry or upset or having a smart-ass comment. There’s always something you’re supposed to apologize for. “Falling asleep, falling asleep on you….” You pause. “Nightmare.”

“You,” Gar leans forward some more, a little closer to you to try and offer you comfort in the only way he knows how. “You don’t have to be sorry for any of that. It’s okay.”

You glance over at him and the way he looks at you make you feel like porcelain. Fragile and weak. It’s not a feeling you like very much. But his eyes are warm and kind, so kind that they make you want to tell him your whole life story without ever coming up for a breath of fresh air. And it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps.” Gar offers with a welcoming but small smile.

You look over to him again, your eyes dodging his this time. You can feel the flame in your belly flickering, it wants to go out so bad. It’s been wanting to go out the last few months, the last few months you were held. At the beginning, it was bonfire in your stomach. The second even a drop of gasoline were to land, it would all blow. But the gasoline never dripped or spilled. It sat in the corner and taunted you and the flame died down. And you’re so tired of it.

You want the fight back and maybe talking about it would help you feel better but you don’t want to feel better. You want to be pissed and angry and furious and you want the fucking fire back so you can hunt the bastard down yourself. But then you look at Gar again and he’s soft. It’s like you’re this tea light and he’s a glass lamp over you. Not burning out the flame but keeping it going just enough to function.

“Um…” You pause, leaning back against the couch. “It’s just….uh…i-it’s like I’m back there again.” You admit. “A-and he-he’s right there.” You stutter while Gar watches. “J-just f-fucking taunting me, k-knowing I-I can’t do anything. Fuck.” You swallow hard, not even realizing you were practically holding your breath.

Gar turns in his spot so he can better face you, never moving away from you. “What happened?” Gar asks calmly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gar adds on, never wanting you to feel pressured about it.

You hang your head, then shake it. He’s going to give you the look. The pitiful look you got when your mom died. It’s the same look everyone always gives, you’re guilty of giving the look, too but it makes you shift and it make you feel uneasy. You get it, feeling bad for people who experience trauma. It’s natural but you don’t find it comforting and maybe you would find it easier if he had something snarky to say. Make it easier with humor, it’s what you do anyway.

“W-what’s the worst thing you’ve heard someone go through?” You ask, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Gar sighs, thinking about it but he didn’t think very long before he starts talking, thinking maybe if you know what he’s seen and heard, it’ll make you trust him enough to talk to him. “Rachel, probably.” He answers honestly. “Her mom, who wasn’t her real mom, was shot in front of her. Then, she was locked away,” Gar says. “Only for a few hours but locked away for her powers.” He adds in. “Then,” He pauses and your brows go up in surprise. “We found her real mom who convinced her to bring in her demon dad to save my life. He possessed all of our friends and then got them to almost beat me to death in front of her.” Gar lists, reliving all of it in quick images. “Trigon,” You look at him quizzically. “Demon dad.” Gar clarifies. “Killed her real mom and then Rachel killed him.”

You sit there for a second and you really thought you had it bad. Of course, what you went through was still terrible but you do not want to play trauma Olympics with Rachel that’s for damn sure. But, Rachel seems okay, weirdly enough. You aren’t sure how long ago all of that was but Rachel does seem okay and even happy which gives you the one thing you haven’t had in months. Hope.

“Well…okay.” You nod slowly, taking in the information.

“Oh!” Gar says, remembering to add more. “We were also being chased by people who were trying to kill her because of her powers.” Gar lets out a breath, his nonchalant add-in almost makes you laugh. What the fuck?

You blink a few times. “I….I don’t even know what to say to all of that.”

“Yeah,” Gar chuckles softly. “It was pretty crazy.”

“No fucking shit.” You laugh softly. “That’s fucked up.”

Gar nods. “Yeah, but she’s okay now.” Gar assures you.

“She seems to like it. This place help?” Your eyes glance to your hands and then back to Gar.

Gar nods once more. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “I think it does.”

It’s helped him a little bit. But, he doesn’t think his trauma is worth talking about. It’s not as bad as Rachel’s or yours. It was a disease, sure his was different, but it was a disease and people get diseases all the time. Some people live and some people die because that’s how it works. He turns into a green tiger but is that really trauma? In the grand scheme of the conversation? Gar doesn't really think so. So, he keeps the idea of the Tower and the people helping him cope to himself.

“I-it was just…hell.” You suck in a breath, deciding to tell him a little bit. “I was there for a while and this,” You gesture over your face. “Was pretty normal.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I-I, uh, I-I thought he was gonna…kill me for a while.” You swallow. “I think he wanted to.”

“I’m sorry.” Gar’s brows knit together with sympathy and there’s the look.

You can’t handle the look, not from him. Clearly, he’s seen and heard a lot but now maybe you don’t want to burden him with your shit. He’s been through his own and clearly knows Rachel’s, you can only assume he knows some of Jason’s shit, whatever it is. To you, Gar seems like the person everyone goes to with their problems and you don’t want to stick that burden on him. Not with eyes as caring and gentle as his. It breaks your heart to even be sitting here telling him anything. So, you quit.

“Um…” You shake your head “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shut down and Gar just nods.

“It’s okay.” Gar assures you as you get up from the couch.

“I’m…I’m gonna walk.” You fake a smile at him. “Clear my head. Thanks for letting me sleep, Gar.”

“If you need to talk, you can talk to me.” Gar stands up with you, worried he overstepped. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No.” You cut him off quickly. “You didn’t…it’s not like that. I….just. It’s so fucking fresh and you….” You suck your teeth, brows furrowing together as if you’re in pain. “You make me feel normal and I don’t wanna ruin that.” You divert your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry…thank you.” You look back up at him before turning on your heels and head into the left hallway, disappearing into the shadows.

Gar watches you disappear, kicking himself. He thinks he made it worse. He’s just trying to be there for you but he’s slowly figuring out that that’s not something you want. Not in the talking about-it way, anyway. It’s like you just want to be distracted from it all which Gar can’t blame you for. He can only really imagine what happened from his and Jason’s little bit of research and what information you did give him. His heart aches for you but he’ll never push you to tell him anything. Instead, he goes to his room but he leaves the door cracked just in case you change your mind.

You find yourself wandering the halls until you reach the training room. There you find Jason back at the punching bag. You pull out the phone Dick gave you earlier today and it’s three in the morning. Suddenly, you feel even worse about falling asleep on Gar given how late it is. But, you choose not to focus on the guilt in your stomach and instead on Jason. You stand in the doorway, confused why he would train at this hour. Is he insane?

“Do you ever stop training?” You ask, arms crossed as you’re leaning against one of the sliding doors.

Jason jumps, spinning around quickly. “Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” Jason almost yells at you.

You snicker with a shrug. “Few seconds.”

“What do you want?” He asks and he’s as snarky as ever which makes you happy. It’s like he treats you normally. Not that the others don’t but you can tell it’s like they’re tip-toeing but Jason doesn’t.

You walk in just a few feet, looking around before looking back at Jason. “Was just walking around.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

Jason didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the night. He kind of figured if you woke up, you’d just go to your room, not walk around. Or maybe, you’d be with Gar but you’re here in the training room with him. And maybe despite the snarkiness, he wants you to stay. Maybe the comments will make you want to stay, for entertainment. You seem to like the challenge.

“You’re the one punching a bag at three in the fucking morning. You’re being weird, dude.” You snark with the raise of your brows and Jason deadpans before returning to the bag.

You watch him a little longer and this is your opportunity to ask him to help you. No one else is here and you can only assume Gar went to bed so it’s just you two. He’s clearly dedicated so maybe he’ll want to help anyway. If not, you figure you’ll just hold the little bet over his head.

You close the distance, walking over toward the punching bag. “You’re so….”

“Charming?” Jason glances at you as he punches the bag. “Amazing?” He punches again. “Hot?” He flashes a cocky grin and you sigh.

“I was gonna say snippy, actually.”

“You’re fucking annoying you know that?” Jason snarks.

“Mmm.” You click your tongue a grin pulling at your lips as you point a finger at him. “There it is.”

“Seriously, what do you want?” Jason stops, facing you with annoyance.

“Train me, Dick said I’m not ready.” You hold your head up, crossing your arms across your chest.

Jason pauses, the question catching him off guard. You don’t actually look like you’re in any condition to train, not that Jason really ever agrees with Dick. Bruce doesn’t think he should be Robin but Jason knows he’s ready to get back to it so in a way, Jason understands why you’re asking. Feeling ready, but the adults want to think they know what’s best. It’s shitty. But Jason likes a good fight.

“What happened to you?” The snarkiness leaves his voice as he nods his head up at you and you’re taken aback. Jason, not asking a snarky question? Now, that’s weird.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your voice is level, eyes slight narrowed.

Jason pauses. He’s actually just curious. He knows his motive for wanting to train harder and better and faster than everyone else but what’s yours? Unless yours is going after whoever did whatever it was to you. But now you have powers so you could just take them out with those. You don’t need the combat, really. Jason just wants to know and maybe he has a little more stake in it. He does care about it, even though he acts like he doesn’t. He’s not completely heartless. Plus, maybe it’ll give him bonus points.

“Curious.” Jason shrugs, eyes glancing from your socks to your face.

“You just wanna see all the trauma?” You raise and Jason shrugs, his brows raising quickly as if to be saying ‘why not’ and his nonchalant attitude with the mix of snark gives you enough reason to challenge him a little but take the risk in having to spill. You take a few steps towards him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You close the small distance between you standing just an inch away from him. Jason’s breath hitches in his throat for just a second as he looks to you. The look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine and he’s ready to play the game.

“Asked you first.” Jason doesn’t move from his stance, instead he holds still, looking at you with his eyes locked on yours and he sees a grin coming to your face.

“Alright,” You take one step back. “But don’t make it all emotional or some shit.” You plop down on the floor in front of him, sitting with your legs crossed, Jason taking a breath finally.

He said he wouldn’t. He told Gar he’d leave you alone for a little while but what is he supposed to do when you initiate it? Jason is not gonna back down from that. And, he thinks it’s fun. You play the game and lean into the challenge instead of backing away. It’s only when Jason goes to play, too that you switch it up like a game of cat and mouse. It’s thrilling a little.

Jason chuckles but follows your lead. “You always sit on the floor?”

“You always in here?” You quip.

“Shut up.” Jason shakes his head but a smile still tugs at his lips. “So, spill your guts.”

“It’s not getting that deep, bud.” You scoff but match the smile.

This is what you were thinking when talking to Gar. Gar makes it feel vulnerable, talking about it. That’s not how you want to feel about it. You want to feel strong and fiery. It’s not Gar’s fault, you can tell it’s because he just really, truly cares and feels bad about whatever it is. But, Jason, it’s like he cares but only out of curiosity not because he’s trying to save you or help you.

“Mom was killed by the Joker,” You start, gauging Jason’s face as you talk. “Dad’s a meth addict, a great parental figure obviously.” You say sarcastically. “Went into foster care, Jerry.” You grimace with his name and you try to dodge the feeling of agony and fear when you say his name. “Was my foster dad if you can even call him that.” You scoff. “He wanted to make superhumans. He used me as a test subject, I think for himself to see if anything would work. I had so many things injected I lost count over the year. He kept me chained in a basement and because none of that was quite bad enough, the fucker decided to beat me, too when I didn’t show signs of powers. He’d withhold food, all that shit. I survived mostly off of chicken noodle soup. He beat me so bad, I guess he thought I was dead and dumped in an alley and now I’m here.” You keep your voice nonchalant and steady, listing off your past like some recap of a sitcom.

Jason keeps his eyes on you and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s rare to get him speechless but here he is, without a single word in his head. How is he even supposed to respond to that? It just sounds terrible and horrifying.

“How long did he keep you like that?” He settles on the question, knowing talking about the events in Gotham is a sore spot for him.

“A year, I think. Lost track a bit.” You answer with a shrug, silently begging him to have something snarky or sarcastic to say because now it’s all too real and you wish you could turn back the clock and not say anything.

“That’s fucked up. He’d just experiment on you and fucked you up cause he could?” Jason asks as if not really believe what he’s hearing. People are terrible.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“Fuck that guy, he’s a piece of fucking shit, alright?" There’s a fury in his voice this time and it makes you smile just a little bit. He’s not sorry, he just thinks Jerry is a shitty person.

“No shit.” You huff.

“It worked though, he gave you powers. Why the fuck wouldn’t you have used them?” Jason’s expression changes to confusion. “I’m not blaming you.” Jason defends his words, feeling like it might have come off a bit like victim blaming. “I’m just curious.”

“I was afraid he’d kill me knowing that it worked. I…uh, I learned how to stay calm when he’d come at me so I pissed him off really bad a few days ago. The calmer I was, the more angry he’d get.”

“You got him to do that to you on purpose?” Jason practically yells.

He’s not sure what he expected, really. He kind of just thought it got too bad one day. It lead you to that alley. He didn’t think you actually got someone to do that to you.

You nod, a feeling of shame taking over. “I couldn’t escape any other way. I knew if I could piss him off really really bad, he’d come at me like never before. I could pretend like he killed me or put me into a coma, caused a massive brain bleed, ya know? Something, he would dump me somewhere. It was that or he was gonna kill anyway.” You pause. “Backfired a little, he did come back and I guess thought throwing a few more punches would wake me up.”

“You just played dead the whole time?” There’s a pain in Jason’s voice and he thought this could turn into something of fun, quick-witted jokey conversation but he just feels like you kicked off a cliff.

“Oh, no, I was actually knocked unconscious most of the time while all of it was going on.” You nod casually.

“Fuck.” Jason lets out a breath before continuing. “That’s kind of badass though.” Jason states giving you a grin, you shaking your head and jerking backward in confusion. “You just took him beating the fuck outta you. That’s fucking crazy.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, dude’s got a hell of an arm and a kick, a-fucking-parently.” Jason’s brows raise as if to be asking for context. “Found more bruises when I showed today, got a nice boot print on my back.” A scoff leaves the back of your throat.

“Fuck that guy, alright?” Jason says, growing angry at the conversation. Who does that to someone for no reason? He kicks ass every night in Gotham as Robin but those people deserve it. What did you ever do to this guy who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe? It’s not right. “He’s a piece of shit and you didn’t deserve that shit. I'll hunt the monster down for you if I have to.”

You furrow your brows. “That’s a kind offer.”

“I’m fucking Robin!” Jason tosses his hands out, gesturing into his chest and outward again. “It’s my job to hunt those dickweeds down!”

You let out a genuine laugh. He is pretty funny actually and he’s not the Robin that let the Joker kill your mom. You actually think Jason would kill the bad guys if he were allowed to. “Mhm.” You hum. “Which is why you’re the best Robin.”

“You think so?” Jason asks, the joy in his voice makes you giggle. “I know I am but Dick and Bruce...” He pauses for a second. “They don’t think so.”

“Well, Dick and Bruce don’t know shit.” You hold your head up high, and you truly think Jason is the better Robin. You’ve seen the YouTube videos.

“Thanks.” Jason offers a sincere smile. “That why you wanna train? Hunt him down yourself kind of deal?”

“Yeah, if I ever see the piece of shit I don’t wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. I wanna beat the fuck with my bare fucking hands like he did to me.” There it is, the fire you’ve been looking for. You want him to suffer at your own hands. No one else, just you and him and you want to watch everything he worked for crash around him. You want him to be bloody and bruised and beaten like you have been for a year.

“Good, he fucking deserves it. Dick will probably hunt him down if you tell him.” Jason informs you. “He used to be a detective and he worked a lot of cases with shitty parents. I think he went out as Robin and kicked their asses.”

You smile. “Good, people who beat kids deserve what’s coming.” You laugh softly, stretching your legs out beside Jason’s and leaning back on your hands. “Your turn.”

Jason nods, pulling the leg furthest from you up so his foot is on the floor and his knee is bent while he leans back on his hands. “Dad was killed by Two-Face, mom’s a smack addict, uncle drank himself to death.” Jason rambles off as if it were nothing and your eyes squint for just a second. You’re nonchalant because it’s easier that way. Is it easier for him to be like this, too? “Gotham, right?” Jason scoffs, looks down and away from you.

“Special kind of fucked up there.” You say, not looking away from him. “I’m really sorry.” You say, your heart aching for him, something you didn’t really expect given the banter between you. “How’d you get here then?” You ask, instead of asking for details about those he lost knowing you don’t like to talk about it and assuming he probably doesn’t either.

“Caught stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile.” Jason chuckles, his cocky grin back on his face as he looks to you, clearly proud of himself. He expects you to be impressed with his courage to steal from Batman of all people. But that’s not what your face is telling him.

Your eyes narrow and then you look up before squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Hubcaps.” Your voice is exasperated, eyes closed before looking back at him. “Fuck.”

Jason laughs, knowing what the expression is now. “What? You robbing cars?” He shakes his head. “Nah, you gotta get the hubcaps, more likely to get money from that. Less likely to get caught, too.”

“Fuck you. You got caught, too!” You glare at him.

“Because it was the fucking Batmobile.” Jason tilts his head back with a laugh. “He didn’t wanna press charges, instead, he took me in.”

“Oh, to have been so lucky.” You snark with the roll of your eyes.

“Yeah…” Jason sucks in a breath. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” You scoff with a smile. “I wish I would have been smart enough to rob the Batmobile!”

“Everyone says it was dumb.” Jason scoffs.

Bruce said it was dumb, the cop said it was dumb, Dick, Gar, Alfred, everyone but every single one of them completely neglect the need to survive. Jason's been in and out of the system his entire life. He got lucky that he didn't end up like you in all of the time he was in the system. It was lucky. He lived on the streets, no job, no GED, no diploma, he had nothing. Stealing the hubcaps off cars was how he got money for food. The Batmobile? He knew he'd get more money for it. No one wants to talk about why he did it, just that it was "dumb".

“Well, you got to move in with Batman and even if you succeeded, you would have gotten money. That’s a win-win.” You give him a smile and a laugh because you really wish you would have done it. You get it, you’re the one who gets it.

“What I said!” Jason defends.

“So, that it? Parents and guardians suck?” You pause. “So…why're you here then? I think you're a great Robin, seems a bit weird you're here." You question because you want to know what he did. If stealing hubcaps wasn't Bruce's red flag, what was it?

Jason’s face grows something sad and you’re watching, not sure what he would be sad about. He seems so happy about being Robin. What is there to be sad about? Dick said Bruce wasn’t the best, but was it that bad? Is the guy who dresses up as Batman every night actually a horrible person? Is it all just a show?

“He’s making me take a break.” Jason looks to the ground, his face settling somewhere between annoyed and sad.

You nod. “Ah, what’d ya do?”

“Well,” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There was the joyrides in the Batmobile and then riding a motorcycle in the manor.”

“I-you…I don’t know what to unpack first. Batmobile or the motorcycle. Why? For both, I guess?” You question.

Why would he risk that? Getting thrown back to the streets or worse? You run the questions through your head but you don't need to ask him because you know. It's what he does. It's what you do. You’re asking Jason to go behind Dick's back, knowing that Dick doesn't have to let you stay. It's a risk and sometimes the risk is worth it. Maybe it's genetic, to be some sort of fuck up. Or, in this case, maybe it's just environmental.

Jason shrugs. “Seemed fun, I guess.”

“You know what I think.” You point a finger at him and Jason deadpans but gestures a hand out for you to proceed. “I think he doesn’t give you enough attention.”

“You a fucking shrink now?”

“Fuck no.” You chortle. “Just an observation. Seems like you like a lot of attention.”

"And why the fuck do you think that?"

"You're a smart-ass." You chuckle as if it should have been obvious. "The risks you take, the fact everyone has something to say about you tells me you intentionally start the shit so they do talk about you. Talking about you in any context is better than being forgotten." You explain and Jason just watches you growing annoyed. He thinks he's so hard to figure out but you have him pegged in five minutes.

"Fuck you." Jason huffs. He does not like being analyzed.

"No one wants to be forgotten." Your voice is quiet and the annoyance suddenly leaves Jason with your tone. You notice the way he looks at you, not with sympathy or pity but with a genuine understanding and you deflect. "And if you keep saying fuck you, I might take you up on it." You wiggle your brows at him and Jason's jaw opens slightly, feeling as if he's just gotten whiplash.

He can play this game. He won't let you get one over on him. This is Jason's game to play and win.

"Fuck. You." Jason taunts you, leaning forward slightly.

You think it's funny. You’re just messing with him but the way he doesn't even bat an eye at it, it energizes your blood in every way. Talking and messing with Jason makes you feel so normal. He doesn't do that little dance thing that Gar does, where he's so worried about stepping on your feelings. Jason just blurts shit out and calls your bluff. It's fun.

"Tell me how you really feel." You challenge him.

Jason wants to go there because he doesn't think you'll commit to it. Maybe you'll pull away or laugh but he'll have won because he didn't back down first. It's like this silent game you're playing and Jason can't tell who the ringmaster is. He swears up and down it's him, but you take the challenge and maybe he's a little worried you'll win.

You make him feel....not useless right now. He has felt useless since being sent here. Dick didn't want him to stick around and help but he kept Rachel and Gar around. He couldn't stop Trigon, he never even stood a chance. But, with you, you don't know any of that shit. It's just you two with no expectations of anything. It's the two of you and your trauma bonding and this little game. He wants it to be a long game though, drag it out and see who wins then.

"I don't think you like attention." Jason states, your brows furrowing and you didn't expect him to be the one to back down.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re awake when no one else is. You choose Gar to hang out with. I'm guessing you did a lot of the crime at night and not just because it was easier. It's Gotham, day crime is also pretty fucking easy. Guessing you haven't told anyone else what happened because you don't want them to look at you.” Jason explains in the same way you did but this time, with a bit more bite in his voice.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Maybe you’re also a bit transparent around him. “Mmm who’s the wanna-be shrink now?”

“Fuck off.” Jason chuckles. “Have you told anyone else? About what happened to you?”

You shake your head. “No, uh…” You furrow your brows, shaking your head once more. “I almost told Gar but….he makes it….too…”

“Real?”

“Yeah and vulnerable. Dick’s too serious about it and I haven’t talked much to Rachel. You always have a smartass comment though. Makes it feel more like a joke. And....we have Gotham in common, ya know?”

Jason nods with understanding. He doesn’t really like talking about any of it either. None of it really. It’s why he always says it so nonchalantly. It’s easier to brush it all off than boil in the feelings of sadness and regret. It’ll eat him alive if he thinks too much about it.

“Yeah, you make it easier, too.”

“Was that something nice you just said?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason groans. He nods his head up at you quickly. “How bad are the bruises?” You raise one brow at him. “I’m not a complete fucking asshole, alright? I don’t actually want you to get hurt.”

He’s thinking of caving. He gets you and you get him. Jason doesn’t have confidence about where this will go by any means but he’s confident he can trust you. If it were Jason, he’d never fucking quit if he were told he couldn’t train. He’d be training recklessly if he had to. You, at least had the brains to come and ask him for help. You’re not dumb, you’re desperate and Jason gets it. But he doesn’t want to contribute to your injuries if they’re that bad.

You think for a few seconds. They’re not great. Most of them are a deeper shades which means they’re further away from healing but you have a few older ones that have turned lighter in color. You know those aren’t the ones him and Dick are concerned about. And you could lie to him, it’s not like he’s going to pin you down and check for himself. But that doesn’t really feel right. Especially with him being nice to you and honest.

“What’s your definition of bad?” You ask, just trying to see how well you need to answer his question.

“Do they hurt?” Jason asks, not sure how to answer it.

“Well, yeah they’re bruises.”

“You know what I mean.” Jason groans.

“Yeah, they hurt. Like walking kind of hurts and bending certain ways hurts.”

“And you wanna fucking train and make it worse?”

“Do you ever rest? If you get hurt being Robin, do you rest or do you train?”

“Fine.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost the battle. “But you know you’re not gonna run into the guy this week, right? The tower is secure so you don’t have shit to worry about.”

Jason caves. Training helps him deal with the bullshit. It makes him feel like he has a purpose. Being Robin is the one thing he does really well and it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, something he’s never felt before. All the bullshit that happened before, it doesn’t matter when he’s Robin and when he’s training. He wants to give that to you.

“I know but I wanna be prepared. I wasn’t prepared last time.” You answer honestly. You will never let anyone do that to you again.

“You’re fucking crazy, ya know?” Jason chuckles softly.

“So are you, bud.” You get up. “Well, good talk. Lots of trauma bonding, but I’m gonna try to go tot bed.” You opt to end the conversation just in case he changes his mind but you’re a little disappointed. You do enjoy talking to him. Just like this.

Jason pauses for a second, looking up at you. You’re a human person and you have similarities in your traumas. It’s a little refreshing in a fucked up kind of way. No one else really gets it because it’s different, having a parent actively abandon you is different than dying. In a way, Jason thinks it’s worse. His mom picked drugs over him. He wasn’t good enough to love, by his own mother, and the only one who’d actually get that here is you. But, he knows that you might also benefit from actually talking about it with someone who can offer some actual support about it. It did help when he talked to Gar about it once.

“You should talk to Gar.” Jason says from the floor as you were on your way out.

“About?” You turn to look at him.

“What happened to you.” Jason gets up from the floor.

“Why?” You think it’s a bit weird to bring that up and now. You both just said it’s weird making it feel vulnerable and real.

Jason shrugs. “Might help, dealing with it.” He sucks in a breath as if it’s hard for him to even say. He hates talking about it but Gar will just listen. He’s the one person Jason has actually had a heart-to-heart to about it.

“Afraid I might…break him.” You laugh softly. “Ya know? Like he’s already seen some bad shit and he is…. unfathomably kind. I don’t wanna ruin him.”

Jason huffs but there’s a smile peaking onto his face. “He looks at the ligature marks on your wrists whenever you’re not tugging on your sleeves. Whatever he’s imagining happened to you is always going to be worse than what actually happened.” Jason says, his voice a bit flat and you can see this is a struggle for him to say and you wonder why.

“Like in horror movies. Choosing not to show the violence because what we imagine will always be scarier.”

“Yeah, I’m just saying, he’s a good listener if you just wanna be pissed about it.” Jason chuckles. “He’ll let you bitch about it.”

You smile at him and shake your head. Everyone here wants to talk so much shit about him which hey, maybe he deserves usually. But, you see through his bullshit because you do the same shit. It’s not cold-hearted, it’s a coping mechanism. A way to protect yourselves from getting hurt again. You get him, you get it and it makes you happy because he gets you, too.

“You’re not so bad, Jason Todd.” There's a genuine sweetness to your eyes as you say it and Jason doesn't believe it.

“I am the best.” He opens his arms, palms up, the arrogant smile beaming.

You roll your eyes, feeling bubbles and butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, sure, goodnight, Jason.” You emphasis his name as you turn to leave and it sends Jason’s heart spinning.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” His voice is actually kind as he watches you leave.

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