#Because I understand people refusing when I ask them to hurt me. But they can’t list qualities factually:

[the-hitspam]

I think I’ve realized what the pattern is between people who leave me and people who don’t. Those who left me and those who haven’t both answer that they haven’t left because they’re my friends when I ask, but those who stay can detail how they see me, both my positive and negative qualities, while those who leave are never willing to detail my negative qualities, and most have not detailed any positive qualities, no reason to stay except because I’m their friend. And if you don’t know why someone is your friend, are they your friend? Or are they someone you’re just attached to until you actually realize that you’re trapped by inertia?

[abbyromanoff]

Can I request a top! Jane Banner x fem!reader, with angst,smut and fluff at the end, where, reader is a new police and Jane is her superior & she take a like in reader months later but try to hide it, making reader feel bad then you can do the rest as you want

HATE ME? OR LOVE ME?

PAIRINGS: Jane Banner x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,220

WARNINGS: smut, love hate relationship, kinda enemies to lovers, angst, Jane hiding her feelings, cunnilingus, pet names, r getting stood up, making out, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, top!Jane, fluff, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“That’s the problem, Y/N, you can never do anything right!” The words rang through your mind on repeat. Your superior was the one who spit them, letting her built-up anger rise to the point of overfilling, and you were the one to suffer. You knew she despised you, and if it was up to her, you wouldn’t have been hired in the first place. You didn’t mind, you were used to being disliked throughout your life and came to an acceptance of the fact. And it wasn’t because she was your boss that it affected you so much, it’s because you liked her in ways you shouldn’t like your higher supervisor.

She would watch your every move, each step haunting her mind. You expected it was so she could find an excuse to report you and see you go, but it was really because she just wanted to admire you any chance she had. You wouldn’t understand, which is why she kept quiet. It pained her to see you frown, but she couldn’t let herself get as close as she wanted to. So, instead of remaining neutral, she decided to take her frustration and fill your heart with the hurtful words she’d mutter.

People suggested you report her, but you didn’t want to. You’d rather take the glares than see her separated from you, or even worse, be forced to leave for good. You instead took to ridding yourself of the sleep you needed and thriving on the suffering you enforced, all while she painted your mind. You couldn’t even focus on the comments, only focusing on the beauty that expressed them. That’s what you hated most, that you couldn’t hate her.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if your other person doesn’t arrive in the next five minutes, we’ll be forced to remove you. Unless you’d like to place your order, that is.” The waiter smiled apologetically, and you guessed he had dealt with this before, a guest being stood up and holding hopes they’d arrive. You were ready to give up and leave with a small apology for wasting their time, that was until you noticed a woman stepping forward.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Jane looked in your direction, her eyes widening at your low-cut dress. You looked so beautiful, just like you always did.

“Y/N, nice to see you here.” You rolled your eyes with a groan, handing the menu to the waiter before standing. She furrowed her brows slightly, nodding the man off as you tried to walk past her, only for her arm to grasp your shoulder in an attempt for you to stay.

“Woah, relax now,” She started. “Where do you think you’re going?” You took a deep breath before turning, eyeing the woman with a clenched jaw.

“Home. Why, you going to follow me there too?” She chuckled, releasing her grip when she realized she didn’t have to force you to stay.

“I just might.” There was a short beat of silence before you blew a breath, getting ready to leave before she repeated her actions.

“Alright, what do you want? I’m off work hours, you can’t keep me.”

“Gosh, don’t be such a fucking bore. You got stood up, so I was trying to do the right thing and ask you if you’d like to join me instead.” You didn’t believe her, there was no chance she had good intentions when it came to you. She hated you, why would she ever want to change that?

“What, so you can make up a lie that you need to pee so I’ll end up being stuck paying the bill?” She remained relaxed, refusing to feed into your annoyance and letting you get a reaction. She got hers already, now you were just dying to get some sort of revenge.

“Look, I know we don’t get along all the time-“

“We never do. Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking dick, I’d actually be willing to strike up a conversation with you.” You stated calmly, and she tightened her grip at your interruption. No one interrupts her, especially when you’re beneath her. But, she let it go past her, maintaining a tense smile as she pointed to her seat. There were only two chairs, either she was on a date or was eating alone. And with her lack of empathy, you guessed it was the latter.

“Well, maybe this is me trying to redeem myself. C’mon, you know we both have nothing better to do. I’m waiting for my mother to arrive, and you’re going home alone.”

“How do you know I’m going home alone? Maybe I’m going home to my wife and kids, maybe I’m going home to my family, maybe I’m going home to my cat-“

“Alright, I get it. If you really have places to go then you wouldn’t have been waiting for your date to show up for half an hour. But, if you really don’t want to, then you can leave.” You debated between your options, dinner with a woman who hated you, or going home to imagine being with the same woman. She’d hold you tight on the couch, kiss your forehead while your legs laid across hers. Her soft giggles showing her whitened pearls. Then she’d kiss you goodnight as she tucked you into bed, joining you soon after and returning her arms to their righteous spot around you.

You blinked twice, trying to register that you were in fact forced to live in the present time when all you wanted was to experience the daydreams you escaped through.

“Fine, I’ll stay. But don’t think I wanted this.” She smirked, letting you sit before pushing your chair in. You saw your previous table being occupied by a happy couple and smiled sadly, wishing you were taking their current places. You didn’t care for the view the seat had, but the one they each held was better than anything.

“Can we get the Le Medoc De Cos wine for the table, please?” You failed to understand how she didn’t miss a single beat, she must be a regular.

“Of course, ma’am, is there anything else I can start the two of you with?” He turned his gaze to you respectfully, and you grinned warmly.

“Uh, I’ll just have a glass of water, please.” He nodded and returned to the back where you assumed he was preparing the carefulness of the wine.

“You don’t order water at a restaurant like this, dumbass.” She scowled while her eyes remained on the menu, occasionally letting her eyebrows lift in a small excitement as she read the ingredients.

“Well, I think we both know I don’t have the funds for the wine you got.” It was true, you were only just starting a few months ago and were still considered young by most, it was nearly impossible for you to make the same as her.

“You’re not paying the bill, don’t worry about prices.” Your eyes widened as you looked at her dumbfounded. She lowered the paper and returned your gaze, making you evert your own slightly.

“We’re cutting this in half, I’m not letting you pay the bill and then use it against me for the rest of my life.”

“Oh my fucking God, will you relax with the assumptions? I’m not that big of a bitch, no matter how much you think I am.”

“I would calm yourself on the language, young lady.” Jane turned to see where the voice came from, only to sigh as her Mother came into view. She gave a tight-lipped smile and stood, giving the older woman a small hug and resting her hands on her arms.

“It’s great to see you, Mom.” She brushed her off, pulling out her chair as your boss was left stranded. She gulped, glancing towards you as you gave a small greeting to the guest. She took your hand with a small shake, something Jane rarely saw.

“Sorry for the intrusion, I’m your daughter's coworker and we happened to be dining in at the same place tonight.” She looked to her child for more description, and you feared you spoke wrong.

“Y/N here got stood up tonight and I thought I’d do the right thing and invite her to eat with us, I hope you don’t mind.” The reminder brought a roll to your eyes before you disguised it with a clearing of your throat, catching the attention of both.

“Oh, not at all! It’s lovely to meet you, dear.” The entire dinner went on with minimal chatting, you started to assume you were intruding on their special night. You grabbed your phone, excusing yourself to the bathroom with shaky hands. You refused to lift your gaze for the entire walk until you reached the door. When inside, you placed your hands on the marble countertop and sighed, letting the tension from the week release. Suddenly, you heard the door open with a small squeak and turned, only to see Jane looking back at you.

“Please don’t leave.” Confusion wrote itself across your face before you chuckled softly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“And why is that?” She licked her lips and bit them softly, knotting her arms together as they laid across her chest.

“I can’t stand that woman and I definitely don’t want to deal with her alone.” She admitted, but you didn’t understand her hatred for her mother. You picked up on the small comments throughout the dinner, but you guessed it was playful nature when she’d give a small laugh in response, only now did you realize they were most likely fake.

“And…I guess I enjoy having you there to, you know, ease the awkwardness.” You were planning on cutting the meal short for yourself, but you understood her request. Even if she was technically using you, you didn’t want her to suffer through something like this, you still cared for her.

“Fine, I’ll stay.” She seemed relieved by your response and rushed forward to greet you in a grateful hug, only to come to her senses moments later.

“Oh, right, uhm- sorry.” She gave you one last smile of appreciation before exiting, returning to her awaiting mother.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I was just checking in on them.” She took a bite of the food, instantly regretting the action as the heat filled her senses.

“You know, you two make a really cute couple.” Not only was it hot, but now Jane was nearly choking on the steak. She pressed her fist against her chest a few times before clearing her throat.

“Uh, we’re- we’re not dating, Mom.”

“Look, I know you don’t believe in love, and trust me, after your father, I thought I never would either. But, love comes random, you can’t choose who you fall for. Besides, I may be old but that doesn’t mean I can’t spot the sexual tension between you two.” The sudden outburst sent heat waves to your boss's cheeks.

“Mom! There is no sexual tension between us! They hate me, if anything, I’m a complete dickbag to them.”

“Because you don’t want to accept that your dream of being alone forever is fading into something new. So, please, do me a favor and stop being a baby.” She saw you stalking back out of the corner of her eye and grinned as she stood. Jane was still stuck in thought, her forehead creased together as she, once again, started to bite her lip.

“Well, I believe I should be leaving now. It was so lovely to meet you, dear, I know me and my daughter loved your company.”

“Awh, you’re leaving already?” You brought her in for a short hug while she nodded, turning to her daughter to say a short goodbye. You wondered why she didn’t do the same with her as she did with you, but you brushed it off.

“Alright, I’ll ask the waiter for a box, are you saving your food?” Her Mother was now out of the building and you could get rid of your facade. She shook her head as she came back to her senses, your voice filling her ears as they dinged in excitement.

“Why not get a dessert? I mean, we’re already here, no point in leaving yet.” You eyed her with suspicion and she only pestered on.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you? Why are you being nice all of a sudden?” Her mother's words rang in her head once again as she got a true, genuine look at you. She always thought you were a heaven-sent piece of artwork, but now you looked ever more angelic. She didn’t know how you did, but you did.

“I just want to get dessert, is that so bad?” You huffed out a breath and examined the menu, your mouth watering at the descriptions. When the waiter came over, he kindly took your requests along with the papers. There was a silence that roamed over the both of you, Jane found it comforting. She knew you probably didn’t feel the same, but being able to have a moment with her thoughts that filled of you was always her peace.

“Dove chocolate cheesecake for you, ma’am,” She smiled in appreciation and took the dish before he turned to you. “And the chef’s special Tiramisu for you, Miss.” You repeated Jane’s movements, leading him to stand over the table with his hands together in front of him.

“Would you or your wife like anything else before I hand over the bill?” You blanked for a moment, chuckling awkwardly to yourself as you glanced up at him.

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Yes, actually. Would we be able to have a refill of their water, please?” You turned to look at her now, tilting your head to the side as she acted oblivious. He nodded and returned shortly with your new glass and the bill. You examined the total with widened eyes.

“The lady with you paid for half already.” He stated before leaving the two of you.

“Why didn’t you correct him?”

“For what?”

“Don’t play dumb, for saying you’re my wife.” She shrugged with a mouthful of her food, leading you to eventually give up and bask in the flavors the dish greeted you with.

The two of you were walking out of the restaurant, Jane holding the door open for you and leading you to your car. She hoped you parked as far as possible, just so she could get an extra few minutes with you. Her hand longed to interlace with yours, but she held back in fear.

“I hope you enjoyed tonight.” She spoke when you stopped in front of the vehicle she recognized as yours. You nodded with a thin line on your mouth before she said her goodbyes. She turned around with a sigh before stopping herself when she heard your voice.

“Yeah?” She saw you stalking forward, your head down until your body was mere inches from hers.

“I actually did enjoy tonight, thank you for inviting me.” She smiled gently when you lifted your head to glance at her, her impulses failing her as she placed her hands on your hips and drew you in. Her lips touched yours in a soft, searing manner as you sunk into it.

“W-what?” She gulped fearfully, pulling away as your hooded eyes searched hers.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-” Her words were cut short as you pulled her back in, groaning as her body molded against yours. She placed her hands on your bottom, smiling gracefully as her tongue was granted entrance. She pushed you against the hood of the car, feeling your arms wrap around her neck while your thighs parted enough for her to place her knee between them. You instinctively grinded against the soft skin that greeted you, resulting in a muffled moan to escape.

“Wait-” She furrowed her eyebrows as she rested her forehead against yours, instantly following your request.

“I don’t want to do this here. Will you come home with me?”

Her slender fingers drew in and out of you in a hurry, her hot breath fanning across your face as you mumbled out pleas. She found her gaze falling to the connection between you two, shuddering as your tight hole accepted a third digit. Your legs wrapped around her form, your chest heaving with every inhale. Your nipples hardened from the gush of wind before a gasp left you, Jane’s wet mouth finding it as her free hand led yours to the neglected breast. You toyed with the hard bud, fluttering your eyes shut as you bit your lip.

“No, let me hear you, baby.” She dreamed of hearing everything you released, she wasn’t going to let that be stripped away from her.

“Jane-” Her name wasn’t her favorite word, but hearing your soft whine made it a blessing to her eardrums. Her clit throbbed in delight, begging to meet yours.

“Yeah?” Her jaw was now resting on your shoulder, her lips right next to your ear as she left pecks down your neck. She hoped they’d leave a mark, just so everyone would know you belonged to her now. But, in reality, you always have.

“Need to cum- fuck! I need it so bad.” Your fingertips came to scratch at her scalp softly, your legs starting to shake the closer you got. Your coil tightened the more you held back, yet it begged to let go.

“I need you, Jane.” The stumbled sentence brought a stall to her movements. She only continued her thrusts when a whine bounced off the walls, the creator being the person beneath her.

“I know, I need you just as bad, darlin’.” She felt liquid spray against her crotch as you cried out, clawing at any part of skin you could grapple onto.

“Oh, God, ‘feels ‘o good!” Your babbles brought a dark chuckle to the woman. She thrived on the fact that she was the reason you were like this. You were no longer crying from her harsh words, you were crying from how good she made you feel.

“No, no, we’re not done just yet,” She informed when noticing you tried squeezing your legs shut.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love, I find it so fucking hot that you squirted for me, makes me so, so wet.” Your cheeks reddened, your eyes unable to meet hers when her finger came in contact with your chin. You hadn’t noticed her pulling out of you, the bliss of the moment being too heavy for your mind to keep track of your surroundings.

“Don’t you taste fucking heavenly?” She forced you to suck the sweet nectar coating her digits, chuckling as you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. You moaned around them, suckling every last drop.

“Spread ‘em, angel,” You whimpered, shaking your head in disagreement. “I said, spread ‘em, you can take another, you will.” You obeyed slowly, feeling her fingers instantly spreading your folds as her tongue came in contact with your sensitive bud.

“More, baby, I want you to struggle.” Her lips instantly wrapped around your clit, the sounds of your juices being evident as she sucked harshly.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

[starkwlkr]

Hi can you write a verstappen reader x charles where they're dating in secret but max founds out and he gets mad, you can work out the story, maybe a lot of angst but a happy ending, I love your writing.

friends don’t kiss friends | charles leclerc

btw max and charles hate each other in this so i apologize in advance for all the lestappen fans <3

Max would kill Charles. No, he was going to kill Charles. It was an exaggeration, but it would probably come true.

Y/n Verstappen knew her true feelings. She knew what she wanted and what she wanted more than anything in the world was to be with Charles. He was caring, loving, the perfect man in her eyes. But Max would never allow his older sister to be with him.

So they saw each other in secret.

Max had almost caught the couple once. He had stopped by his sister’s apartment in Monaco and saw Charles’ Ferrari parked outside. When he knocked on the door, Charles opened it thinking it was the food they had ordered.

“Y/n, it’s your brother.” Charles called out to his girlfriend. “Excuse me mate, go to go.”

“Leaving so soon?” Max asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a family lunch tomorrow. Good to see you.” Charles said coldly.

Y/n appeared, having changed from Charles’ shirt to one of her own. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.” Y/n said to Max, who was busy glaring at Charles.

“I didn’t think I’d have to. You’re my sister.” Max replied. “I was just about to ask Charles here why he could come over but I can’t.”

Charles’ heart started beating faster. What was he supposed to say? Confess to their secret relationship? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m having sex with your sister!’

“I asked him to.” Y/n spoke. “He mentioned he wanted to make something for his family lunch tomorrow so I told him he could borrow my book where I keep all my recipes.”

“Then where’s the book?” Max asked.

Y/n then brought out a book she had been hiding behind her back. She then handed it to Charles. “He was just leaving, Max.”

Charles grabbed the book. “Thank you.” Was all he said before he walked to his Ferrari. Once inside, he watched Max start to argue with Y/n. He started feeling guilty knowing he was the cause of it.

He wanted to be able to kiss Y/n in public, hold her hand, take her on dates. He was sure Y/n wanted that too, but if she ever revealed that she was dating her brother’s rival, the name Verstappen would no longer belong to her.

After that day, Charles was more careful when he visited Y/n. Instead of taking his Ferrari, he would order an Uber to her apartment. Sometimes he would spend the night because Y/n convinced him to. (And also because those were the nights Max wasn’t in Monaco so they didn’t have to worry about him coming over)

Y/n was happy with Charles. He treated her with respect, she did the same to him. Their love was real, something Max would have trouble understanding.

When Max finally found out, he refused to talk to his sister. It was during the inaugural Miami Grand Prix. Y/n had watched her brother win the race while her brother came in second. It was a good weekend so far. When the podium ceremony came, instead of wearing hats, they were given football helmets. Y/n laughed at Charles, who found her in the crowd of people and winked at her.

After the ceremony, she made her way to the Red Bull Garage. She wanted no more than to celebrate both Charles and Max, but that would never happen. When Max found her, he grabbed her forcefully by the arm and dragged her to his driver’s room, ignoring her insults she had thrown at him.

“You fucker! You’re hurting my arm!” Y/n punched Max’s shoulder, trying to get him to let her go. Finally, they reached the room where Max had let her go and closed the door behind them. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“How long has this been happening?” Max asked.

Y/n saw the look in Max’s eyes. He was furious. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said.

“Don’t act dumb. How long have you been sleeping with him? Days? Weeks?” Max threw his 1st place football helmet to the ground.

“It’s my life. You don’t get to control who I see!” Y/n tried to leave, but Max held her back. “Let me go!”

“Why are you doing this to me? Why him?” Max asked. He felt betrayed.

“I’m not doing anything to you. He loves me.” Y/n defended the love of her life.

“Does he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know him. I know how he is, how he thinks and he’s the worst.” Max went on.

“Well I know him too and I know he would never hurt me. But you are. You’re my brother, Max.” Y/n felt a tear go down her cheek.

Max shook his head. “You’re not my sister.”

Those words hit Y/n hard. Why wouldn’t they? Max was always there for her, cared for her, loved her. That day, Y/n and Max stopped talking.

When Charles found Y/n, she was a crying mess. She had explained everything to him.

“He hates me. He said I’m not his sister anymore.” Y/n cried to Charles in his driver’s room.

“Hey, you’re going to be okay. You’ve got me and my family. They love you more than anything. We’re going to be okay.”

Charles kept his word. The Leclerc family became her own. When she attended races, the Ferrari garage became her home instead of the Red Bull garage. She would sometimes pass by it, but never looked inside or asked for Max. They were strangers now.

Y/n spent all the holidays, birthdays and anniversaries with the Leclercs. Soon enough, she was planning a wedding with Charles.

“The invitations came in.” Y/n told Charles as she showed him the wedding invitations she had custom made.

“They look great, mon amour.” Charles kissed her cheek. “Lorenzo and I are going to take Arthur suit shopping. He says he can’t find the right one. I’ll be back soon.”

Y/n nodded and kissed Charles’ lips. After he left, Y/n was all by herself in their shared apartment. She picked up an invitation and stared at it. She was finally going to get married. But of course something was missing, or rather someone. She still wasn’t in contact with Max. Sure they were at the same events all year, but they never asked for each other. She missed him everyday.

When they were younger, Y/n always thought Max would attended her wedding. He would be by her side, dance with her, but none of that was happening.

Yet.

Charles hated lying to his fiancée. He hated it with a burning passion, but he knew he had to to something about Max. Truth was, Arthur had found his suit the day after Charles and Y/n announced their engagement. Now Charles stood in Max’s apartment. Kelly had let him in while Max had just gotten out of the shower.

“What are you doing here? Did you let him in?” Max asked Kelly.

“She did. I’m here to talk to you about Y/n.” Charles said. “We’re getting married.” Kelly excused herself and left the two men to talk.

“And you want me to congratulate you?” Max scoffed.

“No, I’m here to invite you to the wedding. She’d want you there believe it or not. She does care about you, Max—”

“Then why did she have to fall in love with you? She could’ve had anyone and she chose you.” Max interrupted. “She chose you over her own family.”

“She didn’t. You disowned her. You left her hurt. She cried every night for three weeks and guess who was there? Me. I love her and if you can’t see that then you’re obviously blind as shit.” Charles dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “That’s the address.” He put it on the coffee table.

“What? No proper invitation?” Max rolled eyes eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

The day of the wedding finally came. Y/n couldn’t wait to call Charles her husband. She stood in front a full length mirror admiring her white dress. Pascale had helped her with her hair while she applied her makeup.

“Thank you again, Pascale.” Y/n said to the older woman.

“You look beautiful. Charles is going to cry when he sees you.” Pascale smiled. As Y/n looked at herself in the mirror, Pascale heard a light knock on the door to the dressing room. The Leclerc woman walked to the door and slightly opened it thinking it was Charles trying to take a look at Y/n’s dress. She was surprised to see Max in a suit.

Pascale looked back at Y/n, who was too busy fixing her veil. She then turned to Max. “Does she know?” Max shook his head. Pascale sighed and asked Max to wait. She closed the door and walked back to the bride. “ma fille, there is someone here to see you.”

Pascale’s words made Y/n froze. She could only think of one person. She turned to face Pascale. “He can come in.” She nodded at the woman.

As Pascale went to let Max in, Y/n started to take deep breaths. Was she actually ready to face Max? She didn’t know. Was it even a good idea for him to be there? Again, she couldn’t tell.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I’m going to check on Charles.” Pascale excused herself and left the room.

Y/n had her back turned to Max, only this time she was looking at him through the mirror. “You look dumb.” She said.

“So do you.” Max replied with a dry laugh. “You look pretty.” He cleared his throat.

Y/n laughed. She knew how Max was when trying to compliment someone else. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well your future husband insisted I come. He told me you care about me.”

“I didn’t stop, Max. You’re my brother.” Y/n finally turned around to face him. “Why do you hate Charles so much? He makes me happy.”

“I guess I didn’t want you to leave me.”

Y/n’s heart broke. Everyone knew how hard Jos Verstappen was on his children, especially Max. Over the years, Max had gone to his older sister for comfort, something Jos was unfamiliar with.

“I know it’s selfish of me. You can hate me all you want, hate me until you die, but I just want to say I’m sorry for everything I ever did and said to you. You’re always going to be my sister.” Max confessed.

Y/n wiped away a tear. “I don’t hate you and I’m not going to hate you until I die. You’re so fucking dramatic.” She laughed through her tears.

“I can leave if you want me to. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.” Max nodded. He was about to leave the room when Y/n spoke once again.

“Stay.”

The wedding was the most beautiful wedding Max had ever attended. He sat next to Charles’ brothers. As he looked at Charles and Y/n, he felt proud of the life his sister had made.

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest announced. Charles didn’t have to be told twice. He kissed Y/n as if it was the last time they would ever kiss. To them, it was like they were the only ones in the room.

“You know, Y/n once told me her and Charles were just friends.” Max whispered to Arthur, who lightly laughed. “Friends don’t kiss friends.”

[dyaz-stories]

found an island in your arms || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, eun hyuk deserves a hug and he gets one, eun hyuk is a little controlling towards the reader

previous one-shot

A/N: my entry for day two of @neohumanmonster's Turning a New Leaft event! Prompt: Change in Nature. While this is in relation with yesterday's entry, there is no need to have read it to understand this one, it just provides a little more context.

Eun Hyuk is more tense lately, more irritable. Everyone can feel it, though most people chalk it up to the dwindling rations and the growing fear that the army simply isn’t coming to save you. You can tell that Eun Yu doesn’t believe in that, though, and neither do you.

Eun Yu doesn’t seem to have an actual explanation for her brother’s out of character behavior. She pokes and probes and throws out cutting remarks to see what sticks, but she doesn’t seem all that worried either.

“He does that sometimes,” she answers you bluntly when you ask if she thinks Eun Hyuk is doing alright. “There’s probably something he wants to fix. I’m sure he’ll get there. He just needs a little push.”

That doesn’t satisfy you. You don’t like to sit idle while people are in pain, don’t like to sit idle at all, actually, even if someone is hammering that you’re doing it ‘for the greater good”. But the thing is, you and Eun Hyuk… don’t get along that well. You clashed a bunch in the beginning, before you were outvoted by the people who thought Eun Hyuk would bring them safety, at least. It was a short-term solution, what he was offering, you’d argued — to which he had replied that yours was a death sentence.

You still admired him. The decisions he had to make on a daily basis couldn’t be easy ones to make, nor were the sacrifices. Of course, you still often believed he chose wrong, but you had to admit that he had kept most of the group alive until now, and considering the circumstances, that was truly impressive.

You just wish that he would let you do more. Instead, he’s constantly getting in your way, particularly when it comes to helping the infected. ‘Your abilities could help the whole group’, he’d say. ‘We can’t afford to lose them because you trusted someone you shouldn’t have.’ It drove you insane, how easily he’d interfere, always with these pseudo rational arguments that you never really bought were genuine ones.

It felt as if they were just for show, and as such you never felt all that guilty for going against his orders.

You weren’t dumb. You wouldn’t put others in danger unless they were willing to risk themselves for something. But you also refused to let others get hurt through your own inaction. So if you had to sneak around to see Hyun-Su’s in order to treat his wounds and bring him food, then you’d do as you damn pleased, and neither Eun Hyuk nor anyone else had any say in that. It was your life, and it was your decision.

Still, you can’t say you’re thrilled when you find Eun Hyuk waiting for you when you exit Hyun-Su’s so-called room. He’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, and he gives you an annoyed look when you come out.

“What did I tell you?” he asks you coldly.

You grimace. The two of you are almost the same age, and you hate that patronizing tone he insists on taking with you.

“Hyun-Su needed help,” you say. “There is a limit to what even you can ask of me.”

He’s silent for a while. You notice him clenching his fists, and something unusually dark passes in his eyes. His jaw tenses, a vein bulges on his forehead. You think you’ve done it now, that you’re going to get an earful — even if you still don’t quite understand why. There’s simply no reason for him to care that much, and the lack of control is blatantly unlike him.

You’d run into him often, before this whole— thing— started. He was always quiet but sweet, would smile politely when you got in the elevator, maybe exchange niceties with you when you met in the lobby. He’d leave early and come home late, with the look of someone who hadn’t taken a breather all day, but it never appeared to have any effect on his temper.

That’s what’s throwing you off right now. How angry he seems to be.

After what feels like an eternity, he exhales, relaxes his hand.

“I guess you’re right,” he says, but his voice sounds too even now, like it’s forced. “I can’t force you to do anything. I just wish you’d consider that—” He cuts himself off the second his voice becomes strained again, looks away from you.

None of that is normal for him.

“Eun Hyuk,” you say, taking a step towards him. “Is there something wrong?”

He stares in your eyes for a second, and for that second, you think that maybe he’ll give you an honest answer.

“Everything is wrong,” he says in the end, and again, you know it’s nothing more than a half-truth. Then again, you can’t blame him for not telling you. “Can you even remember the last time thing went right for us?”

It’s not that he’s lying, it’s just that you know he’s not being genuine, and so you don’t bother continuing that line of discussion. It unnerves the other residents when you drop a conversation that is clearly going nowhere, makes them think you’re avoidant, but you think Eun Hyuk understands it. Close enough, anyway.

“You should still tell someone,” you tell him.

“I— What?”

“I get why you wouldn’t want to tell me,” you say with a shrug. “I still think you should tell your sister. Or Jae-Heon, I guess, if you’re more comfortable with that, but I get why it can’t be me.” You take a step towards him, put a hand on his shoulder. You do it slowly, as if you were trying not to spook a skittish cat. Eun Hyuk glances down at your hand, but makes no movement to get rid of it. “I’m here if you need me.”

He scoffs, looks away from you, pushes his glasses higher on his nose. But you don’t let go, and he doesn’t actually move away from you.

“I mean it,” you say softly. “If you want to talk, or if there’s any other way to help you. Just let me know.”

He closes his eyes. You wait for it to sink in, then take your hand off, hoping you haven’t pushed a boundary already. As you break contact with him, though, he grabs your wrist without warning, and pulls you into him. Your chest collides with him as he wraps both arms around and his chin comes rest on your shoulder.

You’re surprised by how strong his embrace is, how he clearly doesn’t want to let go.

“Eun Hyuk?” you squeak.

“Just— Just give me a second,” he says, voice so low you barely hear it. “Please. Just let me have that.”

You feel your heart almost breaking at the desperate plea. Slowly, you close your arms around him, start rubbing his back. You’re not sure what’s happening, not completely, but you know he’s warm against you, and you know you need that contact, too.

Seconds go by, until he takes a step back, clearing his throat. He refuses to meet your eyes, but you don’t miss that his cheekbones are dusted pink now.

“Sorry, I—” Then he lets out a long exhale, and appears to get himself back under control. “You offered.”

You’re not fooled in any way by that, but you still nod.

“And the offer still stands. If you need any help, you know where to find me.”

Another long exhale.

“You— Why— Why would you—”

“Because you need help,” you answer. “You’re the one who’s looking after everyone, and I want to make sure there’s someone looking after you, too.” Eun Yu does, sure, but Eun Yu’s a kid, and that’s a lot of responsibility to put on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Eun Hyuk mumbles, still not looking at you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then he gives you a vague nod and leaves the hallway without once looking back.

Your eyes follow him, worried. You’re afraid he’s reaching his breaking point. This situation is revealing things about people, about yourself, too, even if you don’t like looking at it. Clearly, it’s changing you.

You can only hope that Eun Hyuk will withstand that change — and be by his side for as long as he needs you to.

hope you're enjoying this! tomorrow's entry will be for hyun-su ^-^ as always, reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home

[0asisbliss]

what’s your opinion on phantom troupe getting reader high/drunk but instead of making them giddy/disoriented they go the opposite direction and start venting about people only wanting for for selfish reasons (sex, money, protection) and are just unconsolable, sobbing mess ♥️

A/N: Sorry for such a late response.🤍 Sorry for spelling errors.

Uvogin:

•Uvogin stole a bunch of your favorite wines for you two to enjoy on a late night

•He wants you to enjoy yourself

•He thinks your always up tight so when your the opposite of giddy, and energized his mood is totally busted.

•When you finally show him your breaking point somewhere in Uvogin’s heart it breaks

•You tell him about how much you hated being alone in a society like this

•All of the disgusting things people do that you witness makes you want to throw up and evermore cry.

•This makes Uvogin sympathetic, and almost angry.

•There has to be someone making you feel this way, and he’s going to find that person.

Chrollo:

•Comforting

•He sits there and holds you close to him wanting to give you what the world refuses to obviously

•Gives you small kisses on your forehead

•When you give him you reasoning for feeling this way he gives his input and tries to understand you the best way he can

•Though he steals, and kills just like the people your describing he can’t help, but understand where your coming from he gets it.

•Chrollo honestly never likes seeing you cry it hurts a certain part of him that cares about you

•Kinda like Uvogin he might have a motive to find whatever is making you feel this way

Shalnark:

•Tries to get you drunk so you could tell him more about yourself

•The moment he senses your sadness he bring you to his chest a lays kisses all over your face.

•I headcannon Shalnark as a fucking sweetheart he hates seeing you cry

•Mumbles little why do you feel this way? And. It’s okay’s. While rubbing slow circles on your back.

• “Is there someone making you feel this way? Y’know you can tell me.”

•Feels as if you shouldn’t feel like this because your the exact opposite of what your explaining.

•Physical affection on TOP

Feitan:

•Got you high trying to get you to loosen a bit more up around him

•Is kinda awkward since that’s basically what he does to some people

•Even though the thought never passed his mind to treat you that he feels shitty

•Tries his best to cheer you up

•After your done he asks if you want to keep talking about it or change subjects

Pakunoda:

•Understanding

•Caresses your hair

•Coos you, and tries to understand why you feel this way and want you to open up more about yourself.

•Wants you to stay over her place tonight

•Feels better when you stop crying

Phinks:

•Please go easy on this man

•As soon as you start crying he panics not knowing what to do

•When you explain to him your reasoning he looks down knowing he does some of those things to people

•How would you react if you found out what he does

•You’re his sweetheart. He doesn’t want you to be upset.

•He’ll always do everything in his power to make you happy.

[madi-writes-things]

Stay… (Jake Webber X Reader)

Summary:

“I’m at the hospital” “What do you mean?!”

Word Count: 1,046

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Head Injury, Use of Y/N

You almost never fight, but everyone has their breaking point… and tonight appeared to be both of yours. It wasn’t even anything big. Jake had to go to an important dinner meeting, and you felt left out. By the time he got home you were already in a mood, which only pissed him off. He was just trying to help, but you refused to tell him what was wrong.

“It’s not a big deal.” you lied through your teeth. It hurt your feelings when he didn’t invite you to dinner, when you knew for a fact that the other influencers had brought their partners. “Don’t worry about it” your words were laced with venom.

A look flashed across his face that was unreadable, but his words quickly filled in the context. “Oh… so that’s what we’re doing?” He was really starting to get mad now. It was too late to tell him that it really didn’t matter, and that you just want to forget about the whole ordeal. “You refuse to tell me why your mad, and you just get pissy when i ask… I’m done trying to have a rational fucking discussion with you”

You knew that he was right, but his words just made you more upset. “I shouldn’t have to fucking tell you why I’m mad Jake, maybe if you thought about anyone other than yourself you could figure it out!” At this point tears were streaming down your face, and you could see that they had started to form in his eyes as well. You didn’t mean for it to come out that harsh, but you also didn’t know how else to make him understand that he really hurt you.

“I can’t stand you when you act like this…” He turned to walk to your shared room as he said this. The pain in your heat grew tenfold hearing him say he couldn’t stand you. You knew he didn’t mean it, but that didn’t soften the blow. You immediately walked into y’all’s room and stated grabbing clothes from your drawer, quickly packing them into a tote bag. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He looked confused.

“Since you ‘can’t stand me’ right now, i figured I’d get out of your hair… I’m going to a friends house.” You watched as he tried to think of something to say, before eventually deciding to let you go. You both needed some space and time to reset.

You quickly packed enough clothes for a week, before going down to your car. You wanted him to stop you, but you knew that he wouldn’t. You don’t blame him, you knew he didn’t want you to go… but you also know that he needed space too. As you started driving you realized that you didn’t know where you were going, you decided to find a lot to park in and call a friend.

As you exited the highway you noticed that traffic was coming to a stop, so you started to slow down. A strange sense of panic rushed over you as you looked in your rear view mirror. Oh shit oh shit oh-

***

You woke up 3 minutes later to EMS crowded around your car. You quickly roll your window down and ask what happened. As they explain what happened you reach up to touch your throbbing head, only to see blood on your hand as you pull it away. You got very light headed at the sight of the blood, and suddenly everything was dark again.

***

As soon as you got to the hospital you knew you needed to call Jake. You waited until thy were done with your exam, partially because you wanted to know how bad it was… but mostly because you were scared that Jake wouldn’t answer. How were you supposed to know that Jake had been crying since you left, just hoping you would call. The phone rang three times before you heard a sleepy voice greeting you.

“Y/N?” You realize that you didn’t responded fast enough when he speaks again. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m in the hospital.” Your voice breaks a little at the end, you haven’t stopped crying since you woke up in the ambulance. Unfortunately for the EMS people you refuse to talk abut anything other than the fight.

“What do you mean!?” This broke you, you couldn’t handle the thought of Jake being mad at you anymore. “Y/N, where are you?”

You told him what hospital you were at, and that you were okay. Jake was there in less than five minutes, you didn’t question how he got there so quick. As soon as you saw him you started crying… again. You could see the look on his face change from worry to relief to shock within three seconds of finding you. You understood why… the nurse had let you look at yourself in a mirror, and it wasn’t good.

Once he registered that he had found you, he rushed to you. “What happened, are you okay?” He reached up to inspect the bruises and small cuts on your face. You flinched away. It hurt to move your face, and someone touching it right now wasn’t something you wanted to think of.

“I’m so sorry… for everything” Jake quickly assured you that hew was sorry too, and that it wasn’t your fault that any of this happened. “They said that i could go home as soon as i got a ride.”

***

As soon as you and Jake got home he started making a bed on the couch. It didn’t register what he was doing at first. “You can take the bed, I’m sure it isn’t good to sleep on the couch after an accident.”

He was being so respectful, but all that you wanted was for him to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. “Don’t…” It was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear it, you didn’t know what to say. “Can you please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone.” He followed you to y’all’s shared bed, doing his best to hold you without upsetting a bruise. You fell asleep to him telling you how much he loves you, and you’ve never felt safer.

———————————————————

I hope that y’all enjoyed it, feel free to send a request my way.

-Madi <;3

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 33

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 30, part 31, part 32

“No,” Wayne says. Nothing more to follow. Just no.

“I know it’s a big offer,” Steve continues to explain. “But Dustin brought it up and I wouldn’t have accepted it if it wasn’t a good idea.”

The offer is too much. Too big. Too unnecessary. Wayne can figure all of this out on his own. He doesn’t need someone’s charity. Especially a rich boy’s charity.

“And I heard you out. But now I’m saying no.” He walks down the hall, away from the waiting room. He hears footsteps following him but can’t seem to care.

“Did you actually?” Steve insists. Coming up next to him. “Because I would back off if I thought you actually heard me out.”

Wayne doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He doesn’t even want to think of the offer. It’s a ridiculous thing to even think of in the first place. There is never a reality where Wayne would accept this, so why would he hear Steve out. Whether it was Dustin’s plan or not. It’s not his job to pander to what other people want for him.

It was the end of this discussion, and Steve needed to know that.

Wayne stays silent for the rest of the walk to Eddie’s room. Stopping outside of the door with a thick sigh.

“Kid, I appreciate the offer, I really do. But my answer is no, and you need to respect that.”

When he opens the door, Eddie’s sitting up on the bed. Looking confused and a bit intrigued. It’s a cruel thought, but Wayne misses when he was in the coma and anything he said, Eddie didn’t hear. Or at least, couldn’t react to.

“What offer?” he asks, putting down the puzzle he was doing.

“One that doesn’t matter, because it’s not happening.” Wayne sits down, giving Steve a look that he hopes makes him drop it.

Eddie would probably be on Wayne’s side. He hopes. But there’s something between him and the Harrington boy that he doesn’t understand. Something that he doesn’t even think they understand quite yet.

All he knows is that Steve is here a lot more than he used to be. Ever since that blow up, him and Eddie have been closer. There are days when Wayne shows up and it’s just Steve. Sitting close to Eddie and they’re just talking. Whispering between each other like there are other people in the room. There aren’t, but apparently that doesn’t matter.

It scares Wayne, just a little bit. He knows Eddie is gay. He told Wayne himself a few years ago. Scared out of his mind and a bag already packing in his room. He was ready to be kicked out and skip town. When Wayne would never. Not about this, or anything really.

Eddie was his kid, through and through. There was nothing that would make that change. Even with the murder allegations. It wasn’t going to make Wayne think differently about him.

But now, he’s scared. Because Eddie looks at Steve with some kind of awe and reverie that he’s never seen. Wayne’s not stupid, he knows what that means.

Doesn’t mean he likes it, but he knows it.

He has no clue about Steve. What this would mean for him. Whether he’s accepting, or maybe gay too. There’s nothing there for him to go with. All he knows about that is from stories, and none of them are good.

But when he looks at Eddie with the same look in his eye. Giving back as much as Eddie gives. Wayne’s starting to think that there is more there. There shouldn’t be, but there is.

He’s refusing to think more about this. To wonder if that is going to go anywhere. Or that he’s right. Because it’s rude to speculate about people. Especially about this. So he doesn’t. And does all at the same time because he feels the need to look out for Eddie. Eddie’s already been hurt so much, he doesn’t need heartbreak on top of it.

So living in the same house with this kid is not a good idea. Even if it means bringing Eddie back to the motel while he looks for a place to live. That is better than putting Eddie in a situation where he could get hurt again.

“Dustin had this idea,” Steve starts, not listening to Wayne’s silent protest, “that you and Wayne could come and stay with me for a few weeks. Just until you find a permanent place to live.”

Eddie continues to look confused. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and I had this whole long speech to try and convince him before Dustin could get to him, because he will no matter what happens. But Wayne didn’t want to hear it.”

Eddie leans back in the bed, trying to wrap his mind around it all. “And you would be ok with that?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah. It’s not the first time I let someone stay when they needed to. I let Mrs. Mayfield stay when she was looking for a new house. And this one time, Robin’s house has to get fumigated, so I let her, and her parents stay for the few days they were kicked out.”

Wayne takes a bit of surprise to this. It somehow makes the offer more genuine.

“Your parents don’t have a problem with this?” he asks. Realizing this is the first time that Wayne’s ever even mentioned them to Steve.

He hasn’t heard Steve mention them at all. Or anyone, for that matter.

Steve scratches at the back of his neck. “They kind of officially moved out of town after the mall fire. They’ve been back a few times, around holidays, but only for a day or two. If it weren’t for me still living there, they would have sold the house already.”

“Didn’t you get, like, badly injured in the mall fire,” Eddie asks. Looking sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Steve said with another shrug. “They stuck around for about a week after it happened to help me out a little. But after that, they were gone.”

Wayne’s not sure how he’s supposed to react to this. He would never have imagined moving away without his kid. Even if they were an adult, which Steve barely is. Wayne would still stay until it was the kid’s choice to leave. After that, there would still be a room with all of their old things. A space that they could stay in, if they ever needed to.

Apparently, that’s not the same for everyone.

He rethinks over the offer. Taking out his own stubbornness, as much as he could at least. It’s honestly really kind of Steve to offer up a space in his home for them. For anyone. With a house that big and only him in it, it had to be lonely. Maybe for a while, he and Eddie could make it a little less lonely.

“What was the rest of the speech?” Wayne asks. Causing both Steve and Eddie to look at him with shock. Wayne ignores it. “You said that you wouldn’t stop until I heard you out. I’m hearing you out.”

Steve smiles just a little bit before launching into all the benefits of moving in with him. There was a gym in garage that had everything Eddie needed to do his physical therapy from home. And a ground floor bedroom with a bathroom so he didn’t have to use the stairs. A pool that Steve could fill if Eddie wanted to do some water therapy. Plenty of space for Wayne and Eddie to live comfortably while Wayne searches for a place to live.

Plenty of empty bedrooms for storage if Wayne needed it. He doesn’t know why that stands out the most to him, but it does.

They were right. It would be nice to bring Eddie back to a place that had an actual bed. Somewhere with a lot of space for his recovery. Somewhere where Wayne could save up most of his paychecks for a house.

He might actually find a place a lot nicer than what he was looking at now.

Wayne accepts the offer before he can find a way to reject it. Hoping that it’s the right decision.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[absentlurker]

Have a little Ficlet!!!

~~~~~~

Wayne sighs heavily as he walks into the trailer after a long night shift. The lights were off in the living room except for a small Coca Cola night light plugged in above the kitchen counter. He locks the door before dumping his keys on the kitchen table before taking off his jacket. He kicked off his boots after hanging his jacket on the back on the table chair.

Wayne grabs his boots and placed them against the wall beside the front door before walking down the short hall to Eddie’s bedroom door.

He paused before the cracked door when he heard voices softly talking. Eddie and Steve, Wayne thought to himself and started to walk away but paused when their voices started to rise a little in the bedroom.

Nosey old man, Wayne chuckles at himself as he turns his head so he can hear better.

“I know you’re scared to get hurt again, baby,” He hears Eddie say. Wayne’s brows furrowed, “but you can’t let that stop you from letting people in, Steve.”

Wayne hears Steve huff and it’s quiet for a moment before Steve says weakly, “You don’t understand. I think about if we don’t make it and I’m just sick to my stomach.” Wayne hears some movement and Eddie’s bed squeaking as he moves.

“Honey, what’s the alternative?” Eddie questions with a hum, “are you going to let us go because of a maybe? Baby, I can’t see the future but you gotta take risks sometimes.”

Steve doesn’t say anything which worries Wayne because god, Eddie would beside himself if Steve were to break up with him. He’s so gone on that boy.

He’s surprised how calm Eddie sounds when he says, “You know, I’ve been there.”

“Huh?” Steve questions, “what do you mean ‘you’ve been there’?”

Eddie takes a deep breath and says, “When I moved in with Wayne, I had convinced myself I wasn’t gonna trust him.” Wayne stops the noise that threatens to escape at the confession. What?

“What? Wayne?” Steve asks and he hears Eddie’s voice crack as he laughs at Steve’s surprise.

“Yeah, man. I was terrified to let anyone in again. After my dad-“ Wayne’s heart aches as Eddie’s voice breaks, “Well, you know…I didn’t want to let anyone in or love anyone because what’s the point, you know? They’re just going to hurt me and they didn’t understand me anyway.” Eddie snorts softly, “Did you know I didn’t even speak to Wayne for about six months when I first showed up?”

“Really?” Steve asks softly. Wayne remembers those days. God, they were so difficult. Wayne constantly felt like he was doing everything wrong back then.

“Yeah, I honestly don’t know how he managed. I was such an asshole to him for no reason back in the beginning.”

No, Wayne thought, you were a grieving little boy who lost everything he knew.

“He didn’t give up though. God, I still remember when I came home from school when I was like eleven. I had a black eye because I got in a fight over something I don’t remember and I was just angry all the time. I refused to tell him what happened and honestly, I was trying to start a fight with him.” Eddie admitted distantly, “I guess I wanted him to yell at me and prove he was just like everyone else and you know what he did?”

“What?” Steve whispers, he sounds as invested in his story as Wayne is even though he was there.

“He grabbed me and hugged me so tight,” Eddie sounds choked up and honestly, so is Wayne. “He-he said, ‘boy, I understand you’re angry and you miss your old life but I’m going to be here even if you build concrete walls around yourself. And I’m going to love you and care for you and if you think for one second I won’t go down to that school and raise hell because of your face, you gotta thing comin’” Eddie laughs to himself, “and he did! He stomped down to that middle school and told off the principal for not expelling that boy who hit me.” Eddie snickers softly, “Jesus, that was great.” He hears Steve laughing quietly.

“I knew I loved him then,” Eddie continues, “and I wasn’t even mad about it. It was a risk because it was still in the beginning and he could still hurt me one day but you know what?” Eddie sounds content, “He hasn’t. He probably doesn’t understand everything I do and say because dude, I can be so weird sometimes,”

Steve interrupts with a laugh before saying, “True.” Wayne nods in agreement.

“Rude. But he doesn’t care and he loves me anyway.”

Wayne hears Eddie move around before he says, “Stevie, I’m asking you to take a risk with me. I know you’ve been hurt and it’s made you doubt yourself about love and relationships but the planet is going to keep spinning with or without me and don’t you wanna see where it goes?”

Steve sounds on the edge of tears when he says, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Yeah?”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, you goof.” Wayne smiles to himself when he hears the obvious sound of lips smacking together.

“You won’t regret it, Stevie, I’ve got a good feeling.” Eddie tells him playfully.

Wayne turns away from Eddie’s door to walk back down the hall with a smile on his face.

Maybe he didn’t mess up that much trying to raise that little ten year old who showed up at his door all those years ago.

~~~~~~~

(inspiration for this was from the song the alternative by Lyn Lapid)

[adverbally]

Searching for a Trail to Follow Again

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “The Night We Met - Lord Huron” | wc: 1,111 | rated: M | cw: nonexplicit sexual content | tags: Eddie’s insecurities, not really breakup sex, kind of more like goodbye sex, at least until Steve knocks some sense into Eddie, hopeful ending

———

Eddie has never understood the concept of breakup sex.

Either you were ending the relationship and didn’t care if you never saw the other person again, or you were still in love and devastated that they didn’t want you anymore. What closure could someone get from that?

He wishes he could go back to that ignorance. Now he knows that not all relationships end because the love is gone; now he understands wanting to make the last time special, to savor something you will probably never have again. Sure, it hurts to know the end is coming. But the end is coming whether you know it or not, and Eddie would rather be able to plan for it.

Their end is here. Tomorrow, Steve will be taking his community college credits to Ball State University to become a teacher. He’s so excited to start his deaf education program and work with kids like him. Eddie’s excited for him too, except that Muncie, Indiana is over 200 miles away from Chicago, where they’ve both been living with Robin.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Steve, but who wants to go to school with a partner chaining them down when they could be meeting new people, enjoying their youth? Who wants a loser like Eddie holding them back? Wannabe musician, part-time bartender, part-time record store clerk, full-time disappointment.

As much as Steve protests that line of thinking, he concedes that he won’t be able to make the trip back to Chicago often, between his coursework and his internship and working part-time. He refuses to call it a breakup, though; this is just a temporary disruption in their relationship.

Eddie wishes he had that confidence. Instead, he’s kissing Steve like it’s his last night on earth and committing everything to memory in case he never gets to touch Steve like this again. The lean muscle of him, the freckles that dot his skin, the coarse hair against Eddie’s fingertips, the taste of his sweat. The way Steve can’t seem to get enough of him, reluctant to let their lips part for more than a moment. The sounds he makes, low moans and gasps and quiet praise and Eddie’s name, over and over.

Afterward, they lie curled around each other in Eddie’s bed. Steve’s belongings are already packed and loaded into the truck he rented. The finality of everything is setting in but Eddie is determined not to be dramatic, just this once. He’ll enjoy Steve while he still has him and not waste the precious hours they have left.

“Maybe you can visit me sometime,” Steve suggests, like he wants to ask Eddie to come but doesn’t want to be too direct about it. Like Eddie isn’t grasping for any crumbs of Steve he can gather.

“If you want me to, I will,” Eddie promises.

“Of course I want you to.” Steve is quiet for a minute before he speaks again. “Are you saying goodbye to me? Was this– it felt… I don’t know. I don’t want to leave with you thinking you’ll never see me again.”

How can Eddie explain that that’s how it feels? Steve is going to be at school for two or three years; that may be a short time in the grand scheme of things, but compared to how long they’ve been together? Compared to how many other people Steve has dated and slept with? Just because Steve has undeniably ruined Eddie for anyone else doesn’t mean the reverse is true.

So instead of trying to explain, he says, “You know, they say it’s, like, scientifically proven that you never forget the person who gave you your first kiss or the one who took your virginity.”

Steve laughs. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“It is!” Eddie insists. “And yeah, you weren’t my first kiss, but you were my first everything else, you know? And I don’t get to be that for you.”

“They may not be as glamorous, but I’ve had plenty of firsts with you,” Steve argues, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Eddie. “Like, I had never laughed until I cried during sex before you. And I had never been to a metal concert until that one I saw with you.” His voice is soft when he continues, “I don’t think I’ve ever really, truly been in love with anyone but you, either.”

Eddie gnaws on his own lip, pulling at the dry skin until it starts to bleed. “Just because I was the first doesn’t mean I’ll be the last. There might be someone else out there for you.”

“Yeah, there’s probably someone else for you, too. It doesn’t matter, I don’t want someone else.” Steve’s hand is gentle on Eddie’s cheek, caressing the stubble along his jaw. “I want you. As long as you want me back, I’ll want you.”

“I just— I don’t want you to resent me when I’m not there.” Eddie can’t look away with Steve holding his face, so he can’t hide when he tears up. “I worry you’ll realize you’re too good for me, or you’ll wish you didn’t have to deal with me anymore or something.”

Steve looks devastated. “Baby, am I that bad at telling you how much you mean to me? I love you. I’ve loved you for two years, and I’ll keep loving you forever.”

Eddie sniffs as Steve helpfully wipes under his eye with his thumb. “That’s not always— What if the love isn’t enough?”

“What if it’s not?” Steve challenges him. “If we couldn’t make it work, what would you do?” When Eddie doesn’t respond, he continues, “I’d rather be with you now, really be present and enjoy our time together, than worry about some hypothetical. And even if it does end someday, I would rather face the pain of losing you than never have you at all.”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” Eddie admits, almost ashamed. Here he is, making Steve comfort him when he should be focusing on Steve.

“I get it if you’re scared. I’m scared, too. I’m gonna be in a new place, studying hard, and I’m not gonna have you there to make it better.” Steve’s smile is fond and a little teasing. “But we can still talk and send letters. And three hours isn’t that long of a drive.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah. You’re right, of course. I want to be here for you. Even if I can’t always be there.”

“So be here now, and be here when I come back.” The kiss Steve lays on his cheek is chaste, but it might be the most intimate feeling Eddie has ever experienced.

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and steve get drunk lolz), random guy at a bar being an asshole

summary: in which it's a halloween night full of partying, fun, and maybe one too many drinks

author's note: ohohoh this was so fun to write !! happy (almost) halloween<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have laughed.

Because doing so did not help in convincing Steve that the costume he was wearing did not look ridiculous, and instead your laugh only made him frown at you.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just a bit surprised to see how you looked.”

You didn’t expect the Robin costume you got for Steve to shock you as much as it did, and it was mainly because of the green pants he had on; because perhaps they were a bit too green. It confused you a bit because the pants hadn’t looked that overbearing and bright when you bought them from the costume shop— but, granted, it had still been in the bag with the rest of the clothing items for the costume, so you didn’t get to see too much of the pants. And with the red shirt he had on that had the signature “R” logo in the corner of it, for a split second, Steve looked more like Christmas personified than Robin, and that was what made you laugh. It wasn’t even a full laugh, it was more like a breath of a laugh. 

“Why can’t I be Batman and you be Robin?”

“Because that’s not an accurate representation of us,” You answered him immediately. “I’m clearly the Batman in this friendship. And I’m older.”

He rolled his eyes at you and you knew exactly what that eye roll said— “You’re only two fucking months older than me.”

“Why can’t Robin be Robin?” He asked. 

“You already know the answer to that. She and Vickie are doing some vampire couples costume thing.”

Robin being a part of the costume had been the initial plan— Steve would’ve been Batman, Robin would’ve been Robin, and you would’ve been Catwoman. But, when Robin bailed so that she could do the couple’s costume with Vickie, you refused to be Catwoman anymore because you didn’t want to spend the night constantly telling people that you and Steve weren’t dating and just decided to do a duo costume that looked way too obviously as a couple’s costume for “fun.”

“And we can’t even change the costumes now because we have to be at The Hideout in an hour,” You reminded him. They were having a Halloween party there and Eddie’s band would be playing at some point during the night, they were all going dressed as zombies, and a handful of other bands were going to be playing too. “You should’ve tried this on yesterday when I bought it.”

Steve only rolled his eyes at you again even though he knew you were right. You hopped off the kitchen counter and followed him as he walked back into his room. You sat down on the side of his bed and he went into his bathroom, looking in the mirror and running a hand through his hair. 

“Robin’s the cuter one of the duo, anyway,” You told him. “Girls will love it.” 

Steve still didn’t say anything yet, so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You should change the pants. These ones are way too bright and they kinda hurt my eyes. Maybe put on those darker green ones you have. People will still easily understand the costume, so it’ll be okay. And the rest of the costume is perfectly fine. Also, when you put the yellow cape on it’ll tie everything together.”

He still stayed quiet so you got up and walked over to where he stood still looking at himself in the mirror, and you poked his arm. “Can you please say something so I can stop giving you an ego boost by rambling about how good you’ll look tonight?”

Steve laughed a bit. “No, you should keep going.”

That time you rolled your eyes at him. “Ha ha. Fuck you.” You walked out of the bathroom and started heading to the bedroom door. “Anyway, I’m gonna put my costume on and then we should take a few shots before Vickie and Robin come get us.” 

“I thought we were gonna keep things mostly PG tonight?” Steve asked as he began rummaging through his closet for the pants you mentioned. “Because of what happened two nights ago.” 

Somehow you simultaneously winced and laughed at the mention of that Wednesday night. Where you and Steve sat in the living room drinking and watching random bad movies he brought home from Family Video; the alcohol actually managed to make the movies somewhat bearable to watch. It was an impulsive decision that left you both with horrific hangovers in the morning as you forced yourself to go to class and Steve begrudgingly went to his twelve o’clock shift.  

“Okay, I know that we’ve still only barely recovered from that night, but you don’t have to work tomorrow, and I’m not gonna have any school shit to worry about, so tonight we can just have fun without any of the consequences of what happened last time.” You turned around and smiled at him. “The type of fun that involves a lot of alcohol. And it’s Halloween so I feel like it’s bad luck if we don’t partake in underage drinking.”

“Very solid points.” 

“I’m gonna pretend that you weren’t being sarcastic right then and instead just believe that you actually do agree with me,” You said before finally leaving his room and walking toward yours. 

Your costume was already lying on your bed— a black cropped shirt with the signature Batman emblem on it, a black cape, and black jeans that were probably the tightest pair of pants you now owned but they made your butt look great so you overall counted them as a win. Getting dressed took no longer than five minutes, but then you spent an extra five minutes rummaging through your closet to find your black hightop Converses until you remembered that they were probably buried in the heap of shoes that always sat by the front door. You knew that wearing anything other than sneakers would’ve probably been better for the look of the costume, but last year you made the mistake of wearing heeled boots with your pirate costume, and although they did make the outfit look great, your feet were absolutely dead in the morning and you never wanted to experience that pain again. Therefore, tonight, sneakers would be the way to go.

You noticed Steve in the kitchen— with his pants changed and the rest of the costume on— when you left your bedroom and started heading toward the shoe pile by the front door. You reached into the pile, pushing aside a pair of his Nikes and then grabbing your Converses. 

Steve opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the bottle of tequila. You stopped tying your shoes for a second and looked up at him, immediately noticing how the bottle was close to empty. 

“Jesus, I didn’t think that we devoured so much of it the other night,” You said as Steve opened up a different cabinet to grab two mugs to use as makeshift shot glasses. 

“I vaguely remember us saying that if we drank more, the bad movies we were watching would start to actually make sense,” He said with a laugh as he started pouring. You couldn’t help but laugh with him because that sounded exactly like the type of drunken logic the two of you would have. “Also, I really wish Robin hadn’t bailed on the group costume because you look much cooler than me right now.” 

You only laughed more at his words as you went to grab two sodas from the fridge. “Next year, you can take full reign over our costume decision and I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

He smiled at you. “I will fully hold you to that.” 

“I’m already scared for whatever you end up deciding,” You said as you picked up one of the mugs and then Steve grabbed the other. “But, anyway, cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t remember exactly where Steve or Robin or Vickie were, but with your slight inebriation that realization didn’t worry you that much.

You had tasked yourself with grabbing more drinks for yourself and Steve from the crowded bar, but before you could even walk up to the counter, a guy dressed as a cowboy stopped you and decided to start a conversation. 

It was pretty dark and the music was loud, so you could barely make out what he was saying after he said his initial “hello,” but with the way he was smiling at you it was fairly easy to tell that he was flirting. And even though you were tipsy and he was a little bit cute, you weren’t in the mood to reciprocate. 

“I should go,” You interrupted him for the first time in the past five minutes. You attempted to make your voice sound as nice as possible because it was easier to say that excuse instead of the entire truth, which was that you simply didn’t want to talk to him. “I gotta get back to my friends.” 

Either the guy didn’t hear what you said or he decided to completely disregard it all because he said, “I’ll buy you a drink.” 

“No, thanks,” You told him, making sure your voice was loud enough so that he could clearly hear your answer.   

“Come on, let me be the Robin to your Batman, or better yet you be the Robin to my Batman,” He said and before you could scoff and roll your eyes and simply walk away, he reached out to firmly grab your waist. 

You immediately pulled away from him and were about to say something along the lines of “Fuck you,” but you were interrupted by arms circling around you from behind; it was a touch that felt so familiar that you instinctually leaned into it. 

“She already has a Robin to her Batman so fuck off,” Steve said and you had to try your hardest not to laugh at his words. It was always in moments like these, where guys were being dicks and didn’t take no for an answer, that you’d happily play the fake dating card with Steve. 

When the guy walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, you turned to face your friend and leaned in close to him so that he could hear you over the music. “Thank God for you, Steve Harrington.”

His mouth was close to your ear. “I knew that I shouldn’t have let you go alone to get the drinks.” 

“You were chatting up that girl dressed as Tinker Bell, so I thought I’d be a good wingwoman and walk away.”  

“She left with her friends.”

From the sound of his voice, it was hard to tell if he was sad about it or didn’t really care. “As your wingwoman, should I help you go after her?”  

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay, she was a little boring.” 

“Got it,” You responded with a quick nod. “Can we get a drink now? Talking to that asshole sobered me up too much.”

Steve glanced at the bar. “Eddie’s supposed to be on in five minutes and the bar looks even more crowded than it was ten minutes ago.”

It was your turn to look in that direction and you immediately knew that with the amount of people surrounding the counter, you and Steve would be waiting there for much longer than just a few minutes. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled and then looked back at Steve. “Okay, let’s go back to Robin and Vickie. Aside from helping to get that random guy away from me, I’m even more glad you’re here right now because I fully don’t remember where we were standing.”

“I had a feeling that would happen too,” He said with a small laugh before slipping his hand into yours and leading you toward your other two friends. 

There was no way you would’ve been able to find the semi-secluded corner near the stage that Robin and Vickie were standing by if it weren’t for Steve, and you made a mental note to not leave his side for the rest of the time all of you were at The Hideout. 

“Woah, no drinks?” Robin said when she noticed you two. She and Vickie were holding hands and once again seeing them in their matching vampire costumes made your heart squeeze at how adorable they were. “Are you two actually gonna be sober like us for the night?”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening. But, I do promise that I’ll be the best and most functional drunk person ever so you don’t get super annoyed with me,” You said, smiling at her, and when Steve laughed at your words, you playfully elbowed him. 

“I love you, truly, but I kinda doubt that will happen,” Robin responded but still smiled back at you. “Oh, also, like five minutes ago, Vickie ran into this girl she knows and she told us about this party happening two towns over. We should go to it after Eddie’s set.”

“I don’t know the guy throwing it, but apparently, his house is huge,” Vickie chimed in and you nodded.

That was probably one of your favorite parts about this stupid little holiday; how quickly plans could change or be adjusted, and most of the time it would lead to you having more fun than you had initially anticipated. And plus you’d rather have free drinks at the house of this random guy than buy more at this bar or any other one.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The time was inching closer and closer to midnight and the party seemed as if it was at its absolute peak. So much so that Vickie had to park on a completely different block because of how crowded with cars the actual street was. 

Steve was carrying you on his back as you all walked to the house; he had been reluctant at first but ultimately couldn’t say no to your persistent “pleases.”

“This reminds me of last Halloween when your feet were hurting because of your shoes, so I also gave you a piggyback ride then,” He said and then glanced down. “This time you’re wearing sneakers, though, so this feels a little unnecessary.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “This is always necessary, Steven.” 

Robin and Vickie were a few feet behind you two, hands intertwined as they went into a conversation that went unheard by you and Seve because you were laughing at him saying that him carrying you right then proved why he should’ve been Batman tonight.  

“And they’ve never dated before?” Vickie asked and Robin immediately shook her head. 

“No, it’s never happened. It’s weird. They’re weird,” She answered as she continued looking at you and Steve. Sometimes she felt as if the idea of you two dating was something that she could see as clear as day— it did seem like it would just make so much sense. But nothing ever happened, and at this point of knowing the two of you, she honestly didn’t think it ever would. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.”

Vickie laughed a bit at her girlfriend’s words. “Aw, well, I think they’d be cute.”

It was only thirty minutes into the four of you being at the party and you could finally say that you were no longer just tipsy. You’d probably end up regretting this in the morning because of the hangover that was imminent, but right then, you were glad you were drunk because it finally made your pants feel completely bearable. And Steve was as intoxicated as you were, maybe even more so because it somehow took little to no convincing to get him to play dumb games with you. 

It started out as truth or dare, but then one of the dares was to do a round of hide and seek, and then you decided to do more rounds of it because since both of you were drunk, it made the childish game even more fun to play. And since you were in a place that you two were completely unfamiliar with, it also made it funnier to play.

You weren’t sure whose turn it had been— who was the hider and who was the seeker— but you and Steve somehow ended up outside in the backyard, lying side by side on the grass and staring up at the sky. And you were laughing at a joke that you now couldn’t remember if it had been you or Steve who told it— you honestly couldn’t even recall the joke itself, but you just knew it had been funny. 

You shifted and turned on your side to face Steve and after a moment he did the same. 

“Thank you. For always being there for me,” You told him and then lifted your head so that you could kiss him on the cheek. “You’re quite literally the best person in my life.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his lips. “You always get so sentimental when you’re drunk.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s the only time I let myself get super cheesy with you, Stevie.” Your drunkest of moments were also usually the only times when that nickname would come out. “But, I do hope you know that even though I don’t say it all the time, I always do feel this way. I always think about how insanely fucking glad I am to have you in my life.” 

“Don’t worry, I know.” He nodded at you and then smiled wider. “And I’m insanely fucking glad to have you in my life too.” 

He was Steve. Your Steve. Your best friend Steve. The Robin to your Batman. That couldn’t change. Ever.

So, why the fuck did you get the sudden urge to kiss him on the mouth instead of that all-too-familiar spot on his cheek again? 

Of course, you didn’t do it, and, of course, neither did Steve. Instead, a silence settled over the two of you for a bit.

“Come on, let’s head back in,” Steve said after a few moments. Somehow he was always the logical one in moments like these. 

Still, though, you felt the tiniest bit disappointed. But, you’d completely forget about that feeling, that fleeting thought, by the morning. 

Steve stood first and then reached out to pull you up. One of your hands was still intertwined with his when you walked back into the house. 

The party was still in full swing, and when the front door opened and a handful of new people walked in, that didn’t necessarily shock you. But it did make you smile widely at the people coming in because you recognized a familiar face. 

“Eddie!” You immediately went over to him, practically falling into his arms as you hugged him.

Since, due to your drunkenness, you’d actually forgotten that you all told him about the party after his band finished their set and he said he’d meet you there later, it felt like so much more of a coincidental, happy accident that he was there right then. You weren’t even fazed by his zombie costume, which had freaked you a little earlier because of how good and realistic it looked. 

“Hi!” He exclaimed, matching your enthusiasm while also smiling and laughing at your current antics. “You’re drunk.” He then looked at Steve who was behind you. “Wow, and you are too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Eddie laughed a bit. “I can just see it all over you, Harrington.”

You stopped paying attention to their conversation and let your mind wander as you looked around at all of the random people in the house that were dancing and laughing with their friends.  

I should get another drink.

“That’s a bad idea,” Eddie said to you. 

You laughed as you looked at him. “I didn’t even realize I said that out loud.”

“Another reason why both of you need to be cut off for the rest of the night.” 

You knew that he was right, but that didn’t mean that you had to outwardly agree with him. Instead, you smiled at him and said, “I never thought I’d see the day where Edward Munson became the mom of the group.”

“Sometimes I like to turn over a new leaf,” He gave you a wry smile back and then poked your side which only made you laugh. “Where are Robin and Vickie?”

“That’s a good question,” Steve said and looked around for a quick second before meeting your eyes. “Do you remember the last time we saw them?” 

“I’m pretty sure it was right before we started playing truth or dare,” You answered and tried to think about exactly how long ago that was, but failed to do so because your memory felt too fuzzy right then. “I have no perception of time right now, so that could’ve been hours ago, honestly.” 

“It’s actually kind of funny how you two always somehow end up playing that game whenever we go to parties,” Eddie said. 

Steve shrugged. “It’s a stupidly fun game to play when drunk.”

“We also played a lot of hide and seek tonight,” You added and smiled.

Eddie only shook his head and laughed a bit. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eddie, if you’re feeling left out, we can play another round of hide and seek with you.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

“Oh, there they are,” Steve said, and when you looked in the direction of where he was pointing, you saw Robin and Vickie sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the movie that was playing on the huge television. The most random scene was on right then, and the sound coming from the TV could not be heard over the loud music that was playing throughout the house, but you immediately recognized the movie as Friday the 13th; which was actually pretty fitting because even though it wasn’t literally Friday the 13th, it was at least a Friday.

You then realized that the time was probably so far past midnight, so maybe it actually wasn’t fitting anymore. But, it was still a Halloween party, so technically any scary movie could work. 

Your mind then started listing off other scary movies you didn’t mind watching— Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining—  and you suddently couldn’t remember why you were even thinking about scary movies in the first place.

Eddie was definitely right; you really didn’t need another drink. 

“Hey,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Eddie was now sitting with Robin and Vickie and watching the silently playing movie with them, and you and Steve were turned around leaning back against the couch. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Batman?” 

You laughed for no particular reason aside from how nice it felt to do so right then. 

“I think I’m starting to hit my peak. So, I need to capitalize off of this feeling before things start going downhill and I start begging Vickie to take us home so that I can pass out in bed.” You looked up at Steve and met his eyes. “Are you down for a few more rounds of hide and seek?”

His mouth quirked upward in a small smile. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt like you were choking, and that feeling was what pulled you out of your sleep. Your eyes were still closed as you reached up to touch your throat and immediately felt that your cape was still buttoned around your neck, but it felt so much tighter than how it did last night.

Your eyes opened just a bit and you saw Steve sleeping next to you, and you also noticed that you were in his room. He was on top of the blanket, still fully in his Robin costume, and you were under the covers. Somehow your cape had gotten tangled up underneath the pillow Steve was laying on. You groaned as you unbuttoned it, finally breathing normally. 

You shut your eyes again, trying to will yourself back to sleep because you felt like you could use a thousand more hours. But, for some reason, you couldn’t fall asleep, and instead all your mind could focus on was Steve’s soft snoring. 

Anytime you two ended up sleeping in the same bed or same room, his snoring rarely ever annoyed you, but this time it managed to do the opposite. And now you also needed to pee. 

With a sigh, you got out of the bed and padded over to Steve’s bathroom. You kept the light off because you refused to see how you looked right then, and also because the abrupt brightness would’ve only contributed to your growing headache. 

Steve was awake when you exited the bathroom. He was on his back, eyes open as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“You almost woke up next to a corpse,” You told him, your voice actually sounding much more hoarse than you expected it to be. 

He turned to look at you. “I feel like a corpse.”

“You were sleeping on my cape. I was almost strangled to death.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“I don’t really understand why we didn’t change out of our costumes when we got home. I also don’t remember why I decided to sleep in your bed,” You said as you got back in bed and pulled the blanket over you again. You tried to think back to last night, when you and Steve got back to the apartment, but right then it felt too hard to put the pieces of what happened together and you felt too hungover to do so. “Where are my pants?”

“I slightly remember you saying something about how much you “fucking hated them,” so you took them off before you got in my bed,” Steve answered.

You laughed. “Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar.”

He sat up, letting out a tired groan in the process, and started getting out of bed. “I need a shower.” 

“Me too,” You agreed with a nod but still leaned back and let your head fall against the pillow. “But, I also really wanna go back to sleep.” 

“We can be lazy on the couch all day,” Steve suggested. “Watch random sitcoms and order takeout for lunch and dinner.” 

His words were enough to get you of the bed and you smiled at him. “I love that idea.”

It wasn’t until you were in your room that you finally noticed that the time was somehow only nine in the morning. A part of you felt like it should be illegal for you to be up this early after the night you’d had, but your shower was helpful at washing away most of your tiredness and dull headache. 

When you emerged from your bathroom thirty minutes later wearing your favorite hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you smelled coffee in the kitchen. 

“You’re awesome. You’re amazing. I love you. Thank you so much,” You said to Steve when you walked into the kitchen and he handed you a warm mug.  

“No problem,” He told you before taking a long sip from his own mug. “Also, while I was in the shower I had a thought; no more drinking for us. Not until Thanksgiving when we have to deal with our families, and alcohol is the only thing that will make getting through that holiday bearable.”

You nodded at that. “I completely agree.”

You were about to open the fridge to grab the carton of milk so that you could add some to your coffee, when you noticed the new polaroid picture that was hanging on it, pinned up by the Statue of Liberty magnet you and Steve got in New York when you took a trip there back in June.  

“When did we take this picture?”

Steve looked at the polaroid and his eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly can’t remember.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We look so drunk, holy shit.”

So drunk but also so happy. Your cheeks were squished together so that you both could fit in the frame and happy drunk smiles took over your faces. You could tell by how much of a close up the picture was that you were the one that took it. 

It was a little funny, but also sort of fitting, seeing that picture among the other ones already on the fridge— including a group photo of the kids when they spent the night over at the apartment just a week ago, and one of Eddie smiling and holding your and Steve’s shared pet hamster, Harold. 

You grabbed the black Sharpie that was someohw always sitting on the kitchen counter— perhaps it was for this exact reason— and you wrote on the empty white space at the bottom of the new polaroid. 

Halloween ‘85. Batman & Robin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[operationandre]

Do you think cal sh’s? If you do, how do you think he hides it from his family

honestly… yes i do. now, i know there are quite a few people that hate what i’m saying, and i don’t really understand it but i respect it. my belief that cal does sh comes from studying his character. (maybe a little bit of projection too, but you can’t blame me.) when it comes to hiding it from his family, i think he has a couple ways of doing it.

i think he does it in places that he can hide quite easily like his thighs, his upper arms, and his hips. these places would make sense when we think about what he wears throughout the movie: baggy shirts and pants constantly. the only time we don’t see him in that kind of outfit is at the dentist where his mother probably asked him to dress up a little, but he is still covered.

also, another factor that leads me to believe he most likely does sh is his attitude towards death. he accepts it; he basically yearns for it. he knows of andre’s plans to flee, but he refuses to take them seriously. he speaks of his imminent death with acceptance, as if he had been waiting for it for a long time. while this could just be him being realistic, it definitely has some underlying themes. we never see him trying to come to terms with death, even at the start of the campaign. he is welcoming it like an old friend.

circling back to hiding it from his family: i think cal has always been a bit secretive to everyone, especially his family. this cage of solitude he’s placed himself in greatly aids in his hiding of sh. whenever there is something wrong, his family does not realize because he doesn’t act any different than usual in their minds.

one more thing: i don’t think he sh’s in the same way every time. yes, he uses knives—he has a butterfly knife and a couple more that we know of—but he also uses impulsive and dangerous thoughts. he takes common sense and the innate urge to protect oneself and throws them out the window, as seen in the poetry club scene, the driving with their eyes closed scene, and the scene where he flat out asks chris what the best weapon to hurt someone is. while this is not a direct threat on himself, it is a blatant disregard for his safety. it is a very serious but overlooked form of sh.

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Your Voice (Jude Jazza x Reader)

Jude Jazza x Fem!Reader (Jude's POV/Perspective)

SFW -- WC: 1765

Fluffy, sweet indulgent nonsense that I thought of whilst avoiding sleep at 3 in the morning about a week and change ago lol.

Alright, so this is my first reader insert in thirteen years! I have been working on this for the last few days in between work and whatnot and most of the time was like, 10% writing and 90% worrying if I was writing this bastard man that I have grown to love very rapidly correctly or not. I'm open to suggestions on how to improve, I just ask that it be kind/respectful, please. :)

Thanks a million to @judejazza for inspiring me to work on this! You're awesome and I hope you like this!

Also! No beta, we die like the dude in the prologue.

Today had been long and irritating.

You had tagged along with me and Ellis today, as usual. An early morning of routine business turned into a busy afternoon of hunting down people who had broken contracts and taking them to task. That quickly escalated, and you nearly got yourself hurt. Again.

We had just gotten back to Crown Castle a few hours ago and had gone about our business. It had been a couple of months since your initial one-month tenure had come and gone, and you had stupidly decided that you were going to stay.

I couldn’t understand why. Crown wasn’t a place for someone like you—soft, kind-hearted, and ridiculously naive. You belonged somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by the dark and violent world I—and all of us—were steeped in. Yet, here you were, stubborn as hell, refusing to leave. Maybe you thought you could change us, make us better. Foolish. But damned if it wasn’t… endearing. Tch. I must be getting soft.

As I walked through the halls of the castle, I noticed light peeking out from under your door. You were still awake? It was definitely past midnight at this point. Curious, I approached the door and knocked with the knuckle of my index finger.

“Oi, Princess! The fuck ya still up for?”

“Oh! Come in, Jude!”

I opened your door and stepped inside, pushing the door shut with my foot, my hands in my pockets.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your head cocked to the side curiously.

I raised an eyebrow and spoke, “I asked first.”

“I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a book from the library and try to read myself asleep but… then I got sucked into the story.” You admitted as light pink dusted your cheeks, returning your attention to your book. You were sitting on your bed, atop your covers, eyes scanning the pages of an open book in your hands. Your room was lit by the lamp on your desk near your typewriter, casting a dim warm glow over everything, including you. Your hair framed your face, and you were dressed in your nightclothes like you had started getting ready for bed but never actually went to sleep.

I strolled up to your bed and plucked the book from your hands.

“Hey! Give that back!” You swung your legs under you, trying to swipe the book from me. “Jude!”

Ah, that cute little face and the way you said my name when you were all frustrated would never get old.

“Why? Ya readin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?” I teased, holding the book just out of reach. I took a step back, skimming through the pages. “Is that why ya can’t sleep? Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered?” My eyes scanned the words.

She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral, where the moonlight filtered through the cracks and bathed her in a silvery glow, her heart pounding with the weight of forbidden love.

I rolled my eyes. Tch. How boring. Just some romantic penny dreadful. Figures. You would be into this kind of shit. Star-crossed lovers and all that nonsense.

“Ya realize none of this is realistic, yeah?” I asked, waving the book dismissively. Your cheeks puffed into an adorable pout, and I chuckled.

“I don’t read it for the realism, Jude,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “I read it because it’s entertaining. Fun.”

“What’s so fun about somethin’ so obviously false?” I asked, flipping through a few more pages while you leaned over, trying to grab your book again. I held it out of reach. “Yer gonna get it back when I decide ya can have it back, got it?”

You sighed, crawling back into bed, sitting against the headboard. “That’s better.”

“Why are you playing keep away with my book?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Repayment for nearly gettin’ yer clumsy ass hurt again.”

You growled lightly. Adorable. “But I didn’t! You were there!”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, well, ya shouldn’t need me to save ya all the time. Learn to stay outta trouble.”

You gave me a defiant look, your chin lifting slightly. “I’m not helpless, Jude. I can take care of myself.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah? Then why were ya about to get skewered earlier?”

Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening. “I was just… distracted.”

“By what? Thinkin’ of garbage like this?” I asked, holding up the book and waving it lightly.

“It’s not garbage!” you shot back, your eyes blazing with a fire I rarely saw. “It’s a good story, and I like it.”

“Tch. It’s drivel, Princess.” I glanced at the open pages, scanning a few more lines with a sneer. “Moonlight, forbidden love... absolute nonsense.”

You crossed your arms, a stubborn set to your jaw. “If it’s so bad, then why don’t you prove it by reading some of it?”

I raised an eyebrow, a chuckle rumbling in my chest. “Ya want me to read this crap? To ya?”

“Yeah, I do.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I bet you can’t get through a single page without falling asleep.”

My tongue ran along my bottom teeth beneath my lip as I walked closer to you and leaned down, towering over you. “Is that a dare, Princess?” I looked at you, my smirk widening into a grin. “Alright, but don’t blame me when ya realize how bad it is.”

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a satisfied smile. “But you have to read it properly. Like you mean it.” You shifted, laying down on your side, facing me, your head cushioned perfectly by your pillow.

I snorted. “Fine. But if I read this and prove it’s trash, ya gotta stop readin’ this stuff.” I lightly tapped the spine of the book to your forehead. “It’ll rot yer little brain even more than it already is. Got it?”

Your eyes sparkled. “Deal.”

I sighed, sitting down unceremoniously into a chair that was by your bedside, my ankle crossed over my knee. “Alright, let’s see what has ya stayin’ up all night.” I cleared my throat, holding the book up to catch the dim light. “She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral…”

My mind drifted through the pages at first, words blurring together without much meaning. But then, something in the story caught my attention, and I found myself tuning in, focusing on the text. Gradually, I realized my voice had softened, losing its earlier sarcasm. It settled into a steady rhythm, low and even, as I read for a few more pages.

Every so often, I glanced up at you. Your expression, once filled with intense focus, began to relax. I watched as your eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. You looked so determined to stay awake.

I trailed off mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow, my lips curling in another smile. “Oi. Sleepyhead. Still there?”

I got a mumbled affirmation in response, to which I chuckled through my nose and nodded. I set the book down before getting to my feet, careful that I didn’t make too much noise doing so. Well, at least you were about to finally get some much-needed shut-eye.

Before I could move away, you reached out and grasped my fingers with a gentle hold. My eyes widened as I looked between you and our hands.

“Wait. Don’t go yet.” Your eyes were trained on our hands, another faint blush spreading across your cheeks. “I want to hear more of the story.” Your voice was low and shy.

“Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head as I observed you, another smirk lifting my lips. “Can’t get enough garbage, can ya, Princess?”

“No, it’s not that.” Your blush deepened. “I just… I like the sound of your voice.”

Damn. Didn't see that coming. You’re clueless. Who the hell would say something like that? My voice—harsh, grating, like broken glass or nails on a chalkboard and that's what you wanted to hear? But of course, it’d be you, wouldn’t it? Blind to every possible warning, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes. Damn you. And damn me for sticking around.

My hand was still in yours, your skin soft and warm against my calloused fingers. Your gaze lifted to mine, and you looked so… pitiful. Pleading.

I sighed. “Yer daft, ya know that?” I moved to sit back down, your hand still holding mine. Crossing my ankle back over my knee, I reopened your book, propping it up on my thigh. I glanced at you; some of your energy had returned, your eyes shining with that dumb happy look as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“Thank you, Jude.” Your voice was soft and sweet, making my heart lurch. I kept my face impassive.

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet ‘n listen.” My tone lacked most of its usual bite as I found the last page I had read.

My fingers were still in your grasp. Strange. I could’ve pulled away at any point, but I didn’t. Maybe you thought if you let go, I’d leave. While reading, I moved my hand, lacing my fingers around yours. I didn’t look up, focused on the page, but I heard a small gasp before you squeezed my hand slightly. Damn. Almost enough to make a man melt.

Without pausing, my thumb began rubbing yours absentmindedly. Your skin was soft, untouched by the harshness of this world. What a novel thing in a place like this.

It wasn’t long before I heard your gentle snoring. I chuckled softly, watching you for a moment. So peaceful. Dreaming without a care while a man you knew was dangerous held your hand and read you to sleep. You were insane.

I stood, marking the page I had stopped on, and set the book down on your nightstand. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from yours and shrugged off my coat, covering your sleeping form. You immediately melted into the warmth, your shoulders relaxing as a lock of hair fell across your cheek. My fingers hovered above you.

Do I dare?

Taking a breath, I gently moved the errant lock from your cheek without touching your face. You scrunched your nose, muttering softly before settling back into sleep. My hands found their way into my pockets as I gazed at you a moment longer.

“Sleep well, Princess,” I murmured under my breath. I crossed the room to turn your lamp off and then made my way to the door, pausing at the doorframe for one last look over my shoulder before exiting and closing the door quietly behind me.

This was fun! It was nice to slip into old shoes again and write something that I used to do so frequently. I may do more of these! Lemme know if you want to be tagged, should I decide to do more in the future!

Thank you, all! Have a great day!

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: cheating (not by reader or osamu), mommy issues and generally parents issues. Reader thinks she is unlovable (she just like me fr.)

Content: osamu x reader, Angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.

A/n: This is the end y'all! I wanted to make it longer but i know myself and i would just leave it unfinished at some point, so i thought this might be a good "ending", but good news! I'll still write some drabbles and snippets about yn and osamu's lives in this AU! like their first times and shit. idk, i'll see. I'm sorry if this disappoints you, I don't care.

Osamu thinks that everything in your house screams of you.

It’s not his first time in your home, but the vibrant hues and light shades remind him of your joyful personality; the white marble floor completes the water green and pink of your walls. Some canvases are hanging in the living room and a knowing smile forms on his lips as he recognizes your touch in a few of them. The colours and the delicate strokes all bear your signature, a reflection of everything that is you.

He wanders his eyes around, noticing details he didn’t notice in the past and taking in everything he can.

“Pasta with yogurt is delicious.”

Osamu looks horrified at your statement. He thought you were perfect in all shapes and forms, never had he ever expected you to come up with such a daring, unacceptable, banned-from-his-restaurant-worthy comment.

“This is it. I’m leaving.” he declares, rising abruptly from the table, as if ready to sever all hia ties with you and your questionable taste in food.

Your laughter fills the room before you grab his arms and your hand grips his shoulder, “I’m just joking!! Please!” you plead.

“No, you are not.”

Resigned, you raise your hands in surrender, “Okay, I’m not. but it’s actually good! You can’t judge anything until you try it!”

He only scoffs and sinks back into his seat, his attention on the Zucchini Lasagna with Zucchini “Ricotta” that you both made together. It was easier than you expected, and despite your protests, Osamu refused your assistance in any way,  insisting that you simply observe and learn.

The way his hands work in the kitchen left you in awe, and also a little flustered. Who wouldn’t be after seeing those healthy, strong arms of his being put to work?

The final strike was his calm, soft voice, effortlessly explaining everything you didn’t know without making you feel foolish. His tone was void of any patronization and he remained kind and understanding even when you asked questions that might seem obvious to others in the culinary world.

When the result of your (his) hard work was ready, it was late enough that you asked him to stay and dine with you, not wanting to let go of him yet.

(You never want to let go of him.)

“I don’t need to try it to understand that it will taste awful.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Miya.” you retort playfully, adopting the guise of a wise sage.

Though he doesn't voice it, Osamu hates being called Miya by you.

“You know what- leave it,” he grumbles. His scrunched-up face from the irritation he felt earlier relaxes when he takes a big bite of his dinner and you can’t stop the grin that makes its way onto your lips. Such a goofball he is.

Both of you finish your plates in silence and silence has never been so comfortable, if not with him.

In the past, you always felt like a fish out of water, you knew you were different but not the “cool and edgy” kind, no, you were just straight-up weird, and you believed that most of your friendships and relationships with others did not work out because of this.

Over time, you worked on yourself, learnt to talk to people in socially acceptable manners, and learnt to keep your mouth shut when you had to; Sometimes, your thoughts still race ahead of your words, leaving you dizzy, but you’ve made progress. You’re doing much better now than your younger self, and that is enough.

Osamu never makes you feel different.

He has always been kind and understanding, even on days when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Even that day, when you were just a stranger soaked with rain, seeking shelter and comfort in his shop.

It was a cloudy day and you were exhausted from work. Darkness dwelled in the sky when your world shattered again.

It was late evening when your parents called, and of course, it ended up in a fight with no end.

You hated it.

You missed them, every once in a while, but you couldn’t stand being around them. 

You always had a tricky relationship with your mother, a paradox where you wished her well while hurting her because she hurt you. You loved her and cared for her while wanting to run away from her and never see her again. 

(maybe you only loved the mother you hoped she would be.)

To make matters worse, your boyfriend wasn’t answering his phone. You needed him - needed his hugs and kisses and a silly movie to escape reality.

And when he didn’t reply to yet another call, you decided to go to his house in hopes of finding him, but when you got to the main gate of his building, your heart stopped.

You had your fair share of heartbreaks, but at the age of 24,  you weren’t one to play around with idiots who can’t have a stable and serious relationship. Your boyfriend seemed perfect initially, he was everything you thought you couldn’t find and the first two months were like a dream. Then, the reality slapped you hard and you saw the imperfections in your relationship: he never called, never let you see his phone (not like you ever asked, privacy is important to you, but when he takes away his phone even just to go to the bathroom, or when he snatches his phone from you when you use just to make some silly selfies, it makes you feel like he might be exaggerating a tad bit.), and most of all, he didn’t want you to meet his friends yet. 

You thought he might be just shy, maybe his friends weren’t your type of people, maybe he had been discussing a surprise for you so that’s why he wouldn’t let you see his phone. You found justification in everything because really, you liked him. 

Maybe that’s why when you saw your boyfriend of 8 months making out with the barista “you didn’t need to worry about.”, you felt like hundreds of thousands of needles were ripping your skin apart and just then, as if the clouds could feel your pain, they started to mourn, pouring heavy rain on your head, screaming at the top of their lungs and letting all their suffering pour down as if taking revenge of everything the humans have done to Earth.

At first, you felt numb, a numbness that comes from not believing what you are seeing, then started the loud thumping of your heart, making your bones tremble in despair, and your breathing became unbalanced, stuttering through your mouth; and worst of all, you were in the middle of the streets and the rain was growing faster and louder.

(but nothing was louder than the scream you let out inside your head.)

With heavy and slow steps, you walked away, oblivious to the water dripping down your temples, feeling utterly lost.

You didn’t know where to go. Your house was just a hellhole of everything that would remind you of him. You wanted to run away, and that’s what you did.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs ached, and the rain drenched you completely.

You were hungry and thirsty and cold and heartbroken and so fucking lost and-

A light.

A warm, inviting light accompanied by soft hums and melodies gets your attention.

From the tables inside the structure, you suspect it to be a restaurant, or perhaps a fast food, you don’t know. All you knew was that you needed warmth and a seat, so you pushed the doors open.

“Sorry, we are close-” A man looks your way, holding a dirty cloth and detergent. He must have been cleaning. 

Your eyes widen, a little panicked, because you had no idea it was so late and when you look down- 

oh god, you just walked into a closed restaurant, and you are soaked and you dirtied his floor all over again, he is so going to berate you and kick you out-

“Nevermind. Come in.” his voice sounds gentle, kind even; you wonder why he hasn’t screamed at you yet. You just ruined his floor, didn’t you?

He pulls a chair back and waits for you to sit, you oblige in silence, though a little hesitant, “Wait here, I’ll be back.” is all he says before disappearing from your sight.

While you stare at the texture of the tables and tiles, the events of the day come back rushing to your mind, the fight with your parents, the dead cat you found on the streets and your boyfriend cheating on you. Everything was a mess, and you felt so lonely. There was a tight knot in your chest, a heavy weight of unshed tears, and it became heavier with each passing second.

A plate comes into your view with hot rolled spaghetti seasoned with tomato puree and basil and you can’t stop the grumbling of your stomach at the sight of such delicacy.

Your face heats up as you hear a small laugh from the man standing next to you; you opt to hide your embarrassment by eating everything that was laid in front of you. You take a bite of the hot strands, swirling your fork in all the wrong ways (when have you ever done something right?), and the taste fills your mouth, cascading in your stomach and the tight knot between your lungs comes undone, your eyes get blurry and tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

Fuck, you really did not want to cry now, but you can’t stop it. You sob and hiccup and keep eating all the same, while the cook stands next to you in silence.

The kindness of a stranger and the cruelty of your beloved crashed down on you like a tsunami and all you could do was eat and cry. Miserable, you thought to yourself.

Later, a hand came down your head, a soft pat accompanied by a low, comforting voice, “It’s going to be okay.” it said, and you believed it.

“Yachi was asking about you, y’know. Tsumoto, too. They said they missed your yapping.”

You gasp, feigning a shocked expression. “Hey! It’s called  ‘having a conversation’!”

He snorts, “Sure, if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” Osamu collects the empty plates from the table and helps you clean up the kitchen.

You huff as he dries the dishes you wash, his taunting endless. When you glance at the clock, it’s already around 10 pm, and you wonder if you took too much of his time. Someone like him should never waste his time over someone like you.

“By the way, Aika gifted me two tickets to the opening of the “Fishy and Cheesy Aquarium” near the bridge because she can’t make it.” he says after a while. 

You sputter out your drink, laughing at the ridiculous name.

“What the fuck is that name?!” you try not to snort like an ugly pig in front of him (you fail.) He just shrugs. “Also who’s Aika?”.

“Oh? I thought you met her! Remember the girl with long black hair and green eyes who entered my restaurant a few weeks ago? She’s Rintarou’s sister, but since me and ‘Tsumu have known Rin since we were toddlers, she’s like a sister to us, too.” a fond smile takes place on his lips, a smile that he rarely gives to clients, a smile reserved for family.

All the pieces fall into place in your head, and somehow you feel relief and joy and you curse yourself for feeling that way. You shouldn’t be allowed to feel happy now, but you are, and your heart’s already thumping out of your chest when he says his next words: 

“So, I was saying, since ‘Tsumu is away for two weeks and Rin just hates crowded places with too many kids, would you like to go there with me?”

And of course, you say yes before your brain can even comprehend what he’s asking of you. 

You are quite sure he is just asking you out as friends do, but what can you say? you are a hopeless romantic, after all.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

[xdacted]

The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace. 

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better. 

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point. 

It was like losing a piece of myself. 

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did. 

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school. 

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen. 

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything. 

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it. 

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad. 

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name. 

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down. 

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it. 

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world. 

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts. 

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it. 

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch. 

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off. 

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house. 

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them. 

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them. 

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest. 

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us. 

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion. 

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression. 

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks. 

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left. 

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close. 

“Hi,” She whispers back. 

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes. 

“Is there -?” 

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow. 

What a drama queen. 

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear. 

Hm. How strange. 

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly. 

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me. 

A secret then. 

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong. 

But this - this was different. 

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. 

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling. 

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him. 

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed. 

Maybe I was a bit psychic. 

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand. 

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful. 

A peace that’s so very addicting. 

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic. 

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods. 

Before I know it, they are both standing. 

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement. 

“I told you!” I cry. 

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare. 

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry. 

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory. 

But what a beautiful memory it will be. 

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea. 

It is perfect. It is home. 

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back. 

“What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear. 

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth. 

“What happened?” Carla demands. 

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with. 

I can hardly breathe. 

Anger coils tight within me. 

Fucking vultures. 

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex. 

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own. 

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him. 

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.” 

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room. 

This wasn’t right. 

Summer is our time. 

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away. 

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat. 

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face. 

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles. 

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors. 

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through. 

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn. 

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself. 

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse. 

I take a tentative step forward. 

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful. 

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go. 

My brother is good. 

And the world is cruel. 

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable. 

And Charles. 

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear. 

That Charles. 

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is. 

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them. 

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him. 

I hold him and let him fall apart. 

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him. 

I gesture for him to come and he does. 

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back. 

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does. 

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest. 

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do. 

We always will. 

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

[lavenderarts]

LRB I’m being so deadass when I say I’m happier and safer and more secure in my relationships for deciding to live by the idea that things that weren’t said to me outright were not said and are therefore not my damn problem. For the first time in my 28 years of life I know people I have never had an argument with, EVER, because when something is going on we talk about it instead and it doesn’t become emotionally heated and hurtful. Like I try to look back and think of a time my best friend hurt my feelings and there just. isn’t one. For the first time, I have no laundry list of grievances I can never address because all the people in my life refuse to tell me when I’ve upset them and expect me to never get upset with them and lash out at me if I ever need something.

I’ve spent my life going from one abuser to the next with no one to truly support or look out for me or tell me I deserved more, I felt like an emotional dairy cow — I was always expected to lavish care and attention onto my ‘friends’ and never get mad at them and just accept it when they lashed out at me for things beyond my control or mistakes they never told me about. I was supposed to take it and continue to nurture, to solve all their problems unendingly, because they were going through a hard time or struggling with unmedicated mental health issues or simply didn’t know how to behave yet so it wasn’t their fault; and if I ever had a need in return I was tossed in the garbage because I was not allowed to want support or care. Do you know how crazy it feels to go from 2 decades of that to suddenly being faced with someone who is proud of you for setting boundaries? To someone who earnestly celebrates your accomplishments instead of getting bitterly jealous that you’re better at something than they are? To someone who defends you when you’re not around and won’t allow people in their life to disrespect you for the sake of keeping peace? To someone who you know, without a doubt, will be in your life forever instead of feeling your grip on a relationship slowly slipping away and everything spiraling out of control around you because your usefulness has run out and you didn’t get the memo you were no longer wanted?

It’s insane. You can just decide, anytime you like, to stop doing the emotional labor of divining other people’s feelings via magic. You can set a standard that people either tell you when an issue has come up so you can properly apologize and work out a solution together or they can solve it themselves, but you won’t be taken to task for problems you weren’t informed existed. And you can simply remove people who don’t follow that from your life. Obviously you can’t be mean and uncompromising — you have to hold yourself to the same standard you’re demanding, and you have to be honest without being insulting or manipulative. You’re being honest for the health of the relationship, not to be unkind. You can still intuit; if I think I might’ve hurt someone’s feelings you can literally just ask. You can say “Hey, I feel like I might have upset you earlier, did I? If so I’d really like to apologize and talk about it a little bit” and that’s not inappropriate. You’ll come across people who REALLY do not fucking like that and will try to make you feel like you’re demanding or dramatic or weird for it — I did, and getting told that I’m “too much” for expressing my opinions confidently and wanting honest communication in my relationships almost broke me — but you aren’t. You’re making a choice that is right for you. People aren’t obligated to stick around if they can’t understand and respect that choice.

I don’t act like this because I don’t trust people, it’s the opposite: I trust other adults to handle their emotions like adults and be able to assess if my friendship with them is worth the discomfort of an open conversation every now and again. I trust my loved ones to tell me if I hurt them and allow me the opportunity to apologize and modify my behavior. It’s because I trust people that I require this level of frankness, and if that trust is broken and I’m not confident it can be repaired, we go our separate ways. Easy.

You can just do all this. You’ll find people who fuck with it. Stop being a fucking doormat and find people who love you, not just how you serve them.

I can’t thank my friends enough for loving me and being willing to be honest with me. I never want to go back to how alone I felt, and being supported and cared for by you makes me sure I’ll never have to.

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Philza flinches. He doesn’t understand why Tommy is suddenly shouting at him for supposedly exploiting his instincts. But he does understand the way Tommy’s wings puff up, bracing to be hit, and it makes Philza freeze as he watches his hatchling throw open the door and storm out of his life. 

“Would it make you more comfortable if I remove your feathers?” 

Tommy stumbles slightly at the threshold, then scoffs, throwing a glare over his shoulder. “As if you would. It’s too convenient to force my instincts to feel safe around you.” That would explain why Tommy isn’t looking at him. Philza can’t breathe. His chick doesn’t feel safe?

Tommy is confused and wary when Philza removes the hatchling’s feathers and hands them back. It only grows as Philza asks if he wants the ones woven into the nest removed as well. The fact he’s at a loss as to why someone would respect his boundaries hurts almost as much as ripping out where Tommy’s feathers mark him as part of the flock. 

But he does it, since that’s what Tommy needs to feel safe, even if Tommy is suspicious of his attempts. Horrifically, he discovers almost every act of affection was interpreted as manipulation, especially the parental ones. Philza winces as Tommy declares he wants to self-preen from now on, decrying the bonding experience as nothing more than manipulation. 

But- hadn’t Tommy liked it? Philza isn’t stupid, he’s figured it would hit close to memories of his abuser. That’s why he’d been so careful to frequently ask if he wanted to stop. But Tommy had coo’d back every time, asking him to keep petting his wings long past the point they were tidy. Like he wanted to stay in Philza’s arms forever. That’s why Philza asked to make their flock official, he’d thought… Tommy had seemed so happy…

Philza feels confused, and awful, and worried. “You know you can let me know when I’m making you uncomfortable, right mate? You can always tell me to stop and I will.”

Tommy doesn’t believe him then. 

But slowly he starts to, tentatively testing the waters over the weeks and waiting with bated breath to be punished for it. As if it’s such an overreach to demand the basic bodily autonomy of people asking permission before showing physical affection. As time passes, he rejects it more and more, growing comfortable asserting his own wants. Philza aches with the desire to tuck his chick under wing, but swallows the increasing distance. It’s good that Tommy feels safe refusing what Philza wants. He’s healing. Philza’s empty arms must be a good thing. 

And naturally, he becomes a little turd with it once he feels safe enough, but Philza can’t exactly resend the promise and so ends up being forced to just stand there while a zombie attacks him since “swinging that sword around makes me uncomfortable Phil, I thought you said this was a safe place.” But Tommy’s delighted laughter makes up for it, even if Philza forces him to replace the golden apples he wasted to survive. He doesn’t mind the little pranks.

But something in Philza panics when Tommy finally abandons the nest to sleep in a bed. He can’t sleep at night, tormented by the keen awareness his nest is empty. Instincts howl to find his chick, because no matter how he fights it that doesn’t change the imprinting. Verging on falling prey to parental instincts and dragging the boy to the safety of the nest, Philza sneaks out the front door and slumps against it. He can’t break that trust, he just can’t. But neither can he sleep with an empty nest. 

His movement sends a few dogs barking, and it isn’t long before Techno looms over him in the cloak of midnight. Philza holds himself a little tighter. “My nest is empty,” he says hoarsely. Techno lurches to action, till assured Tommy is perfectly safe. “He doesn’t want to be my hatchling. It hurt him too deeply last time.” And yet his instincts care not, crying in panic. Philza buries his face in the knees drawn to his chest. 

“Would you be able to sleep if something else filled the nest? Like, could the instincts tell the difference?” Philza has no idea, but as exhausted as he is he’s willing to try. Or, till Techno volunteers himself, because Philza really doesn’t want to make his instincts Techno’s problem. Techno shrugs. “Probably a lot less awkward for me than it is Tommy, given how long we’ve known each other. Might as well try.” Not that Techno cares to be viewed as a piglet, but his feelings were bruised when the broody Philza categorized him as a threat. “We’re a flock, aren’t we?” 

“Always.” So Techno burrows into the nest, rooting it up till Philza’s feathers ruffle disapprovingly. They’re different, and Techno likes it that way, but the dozens of little instances where their instincts misalign get under his fur sometimes, like a wedge between them. But they both refuse to let it stop them. The hesitance is drowned in a yawn, and Philza nestles over him. It’s a reassuring pressure, reminding Techno of the sounder he long aged out of. Soft feathers wrap around him, and after a few sleepy coos, Philza drifts off, finally assured that his nest is barren no more. Techno smiles, glad he could help his friend. He wraps an arm around Philza’s feathered back, and likewise accepts the embrace of slumber. 

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