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jhilsara · 14 days

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The Midnight Owl

Summary: After Spencer is shot he can't do much in the field for a while, being stuck to the offices in Quantico. His insomnia starts to amp up and instead of an urge for McDonald's at 1 AM he finds himself desperate for a new book and a coffee. Somehow, he finds the Midnight Owl, the late night bookstore/cafe open at weird hours with a cute southern co owner who probably gets the same amount of sleep as he does.

She also makes the best coffee that is disgustingly sweet. Exactly how he likes it.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: Mentions of Season 5 100 episode and canon typical BAU themes

Artwork and beta read by @aninaska

The one with the late night bookstore

If Spencer could pace, he would, but his new semi-permanent crutch situation was impeding his mobility. He hasn’t been able to sleep, much less relax with the knowledge of Hotch being stabbed by George Foyet in his own home. Or how it’s clear that he’s playing an extreme game with the BAU, but mostly Hotch. Spencer didn’t even want to think about poor Haley and Jack being thrown into witness protection. These were scenarios Spencer knew came with the job he does, but seeing it happen to people he knows and cares about, makes his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine if it was his own mother being threatened. It sends a cold chill down his back. He needs a distraction.

Spencer’s eyes drag over to his used and abused bookshelf. Looking through his collection trying to find something to read. Even for a distraction he’s not very interested in rereading any of the texts on his shelf. His go to comfort of Sherlock Holmes doesn’t even seem all that appealing at the moment. He needs something that isn’t about criminals or detectives right now. Too bad nothing else on his shelf seemed to catch his eye. Spencer eyes his clock and the analog clock on his wall tells him it’s two in the morning. He’d be lucky if anything besides a dingy twenty-four-hour cafe was open, much less a bookstore.

He sighs and looks over at his discarded laptop on his desk. He boots it up to see if maybe he could at least check how early the library opened. He could try to sleep but his insomnia was eating away at him, trying to focus on anything else but work seems harder and harder. Spencer had to get out of his apartment. He looks up the library hours as well as a few bookstores. Just trying to see how soon he could sit down and avoid the never-ending running in his brain. He’s surprised when he finds a bookstore that was advertising its hours as open. Surely that was wrong. He spots the phone number on the webpage, and he decides to call to double check.

The line rings for roughly two seconds before it’s picked up, a melodic voice on the other line states, “Midnight Owl, this is Margaux how can I help you?” The cadence of the woman’s voice much too chipper for the middle of the night.

Spencer’s shocked into silence for a moment before he responds, “I thought the hours posted were wrong...” He finds himself stating.

“Nope!” She replies, unbothered by his blunt response. “We’re open 24/5, only closed on Fridays and Saturdays!” She tells him brightly, “You wouldn’t be the first to call thinking we posted our hours wrong though. More common than you think.”

He coughs awkwardly and finds himself nodding even though she can’t see it. “Okay, great, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem, swing by some time we have the best drinks crafted by yours truly!” She jokes with a soft laugh trailing her sentence. She drawls out the end of her words in a way that has them twisting together as sweet as the tea he’s almost positive she drinks.

“Have a good night.” He states before hanging up the phone.

He looks at the address listed and finds that it’s just up the street, barely a block away.

Spencer eyes his crutches for a moment debating on whether he should go or not. His good leg shakes in anxious movements as he sits on his couch. What were the odds that there was a bookstore up his block that was open at odd hours that catered to him? He knew the odds; they were incredibly low . He shrugs to himself and hobbles to grab his crutches, he’ll check it out. Why the hell not? If it’s too good to be true he can add it to the list of places he’ll never visit again like that one coffee shop downtown that burns everything he’s ever ordered.

He desperately needs to get out of his apartment.

Margaux's night at the Midnight Owl was going slowly. She had a few of her regulars wander in, which she was happy for since they had only officially been open for four months. There was a couple that sat on the loveseat in the cafe every Thursday night reading their books together and drinking the cafe’s famous homemade lavender lemonade. Not that she could brag about it, her co-owner makes pastries and premade drinks. All homemade family recipes. On the opposite side of the store was the guy who came in every other day to check for anything new. He grabs a coffee and roams the stacks for an hour. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he doesn’t. He comes in at the same time though, so Margaux thinks he works a graveyard shift.

There were a couple of students at a table in the cafe section clearly up studying and writing papers. The semester for school had only just started a month ago, but the influx of students coming and going was increasing by the day.

She loved her little bookstore, and during the day they were popping. A rising trendy place for local university students. Margaux preferred the quiet of the nights though. It gave her time to make orders for books, restock, and change out displays. It was the methodical cleaning and sorting that kept her sane. Margaux’s daytime life was overly complicated and having her own corner of the world was nice. It felt like a safe bubble that didn’t necessarily feel like work.

She’s in the middle of compiling a list of books to reorder that have already sold out when the front doorbell chimes telling her someone just entered. She’s behind a stack finishing what she's writing on her notepad when she calls out, “Be right there!”

She bounds around the stack to the counter to meet the newcomer, “Welcome in! How can I help you?” she asks happily pushing her short hair behind her ear nervously.

She scans the guy from head to toe, he’s definitely new. He looks like a grad student, probably around her age. His mousy brown hair is tied back into a low ponytail and he’s in a well-worn Caltech shirt and sweatpants. The oddest thing about him is the crutches he’s sporting as he comes in. Margaux sends him a warm smile.

Spencer looks at the woman standing at the counter and finds she is not what he expected her to be. She looks like the moon; her round face is framed by dark midnight hair that hits just above her shoulders. It almost looks like it’s reflecting blue under the warm ambient light of the bookstore. Her dark blue eyes are like the ocean as they meet his hazel forest ones. Spencer almost loses his train of thought as he takes in the bookstore worker’s soft round features that just made her seem so inviting.

It takes a second before he registers that she asked him a question. “Oh, yes,” he rushes out awkwardly. “Is the cafe still open?” He questions, tilting his head to the empty-looking bar on the other side.

Margaux nods happily, “It is! I’m the only one who works the night shift, so I run the register and the cafe. Would you like something?” she asks him, already walking toward the counter that holds the cabinet of pastries and coffee machines.

“A latte would be great actually.” He says in a much clearer voice.

“Can do.” She grins at him radiantly and it’s so infectious he finds himself returning one to her. She turns and almost has a skip to her step as she walks, far too awake for him to deem reasonable for two in the morning.

Spencer watches her as he slowly moves forward on his crutches, she almost dances around the machines as she makes his latte. She’s humming to the music that he’s finally registered playing in the bookstore. She’s radiating a warmth that Spencer doesn’t get to see much day to day except for the one and only, Penelope Garcia. Garcia looked and acted like the sun, one giant ball of pink and blonde energy. He watches Margaux move around her workstation making his latte and it’s seamless how she moves, it’s her second nature. She’s just at ease here, which settles his uneasy nerves about trying a new place out in the middle of the night. He looks around and sees a few people mingling about.

Spencer takes time to look around the store and notices how it feels much more lived in than any box stores he’s been to. The overhead lights aren’t fluorescent like a normal store but a few well-placed wooden chandeliers that are carved to look like vines. Every other light is a floor light or table lamp that has mismatched covers and stained glass. He turns to the large windows, and he guesses the store probably gets great sunshine when it’s daylight. The multiple house plants by the window and on the empty tables being a good indicator. The ambiance is so inviting, not to mention the amount of comfortable faux leather seating he sees.

He could imagine spending a lot of time here, it was just so cozy. Spencer can’t imagine he would have missed this place opening but with all the cases they’ve been busy with, he actually isn’t surprised at all.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by her placing the drink on the pickup bar, “So what ails you?” Her voice carries to him and her head is tilted as she looks at him expectantly.

“Excuse me?” He finds himself stuttering out.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “Well, it’s the middle of the night and I’ve never seen your face in here before.” She states the facts like it's so obvious.

“So, what’s buggin’ you?” Her voice drawls out sweetly as she looks at him expectantly.

It’s almost like the lights in the cafe frame her from behind, bright and dazzling. She’s clearly personable and Spencer isn’t used to people with Margaux's personality being overtly kind to him. He’ll see how long it takes her to dismiss him like most people do. It doesn’t annoy him like it used to, he expects it really. Especially when his own team and friends do it almost regularly.

She’s waiting patiently for his response with unwavering kind eyes.

“Insomnia,” He settled on admitting to her, he gave her a tight lined frown. “I needed a new book; I’ve read through my catalog.”

Margaux’s eyes light up, “That’s my specialty! I mean, I make a mean latte, but my favorite part of this place is the books.” She whispered conspiratorially.

“So,” She comes around from the back of the bar and puts her hands on her hips, “What genre were you looking for? Or was it a specific book?” She asks him.

“Fantasy, preferably. I’ve read all of Tolkien and Gaiman’s works.” He tells her.

She nods in understanding her blue eyes giving a quick look of him from head to toe, “You look like a man who’s read The Hobbit and American Gods .” She said, almost more so to herself.

Spencer gives her a quizzical look, unsure if he should be insulted or not. Margaux reads his face and her own cheeks flush with embarrassment. Her hands start moving exaggeratedly as her voice pitches, “Not in a bad way! I promise, I’m here for a well read person! Not that you have to have read those two authors to be well read, I just-” She takes a deep breath and stops herself.

“Sorry, I just mean, you look like you’ve probably read some of the most popular titles in that genre.” Her voice grows smaller, and her face is bright in a flush as she was rushing through her words, drawling out her words in that voice that sounds like sugar. She bites the inside of her cheek forcing herself to stop talking.

Spencer chuckles and shakes his head, “I get it, you’re good.” He tells her reassuringly.

She sighs in relief, pushing her bangs out of her face nervously, “Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant you probably want something different and not recommended every time you ask for fantasy.”

Spencer just gives her a smile, “I appreciate it.” He shifts his weight on his crutches to awkwardly sip his latte.

Margaux ushers him over to one of the comfortable chairs with a nice side table lamp that has beautiful green and red stained-glass roses on it.

“Here sit, I’ll grab some recommendations, and you can let me know what you think.” She doesn’t even give Spencer a chance to rebuttal before she’s off and disappears into the stacks.

The silence that followed her absence was overwhelmingly loud, except for the soft music playing from the speakers. Spencer takes his time drinking his latte and it’s delicious. Better than the place the BAU grabs coffee from, and much better than whatever was in their coffee pot at the office.

Margaux pops back out from the stacks within ten minutes holding at least five book options for him to sort through.

“These all have different sub-genres but are fantasy in nature. Let me know if any look good to you.” She hands them over to him happily. He notices her biting the inside of her cheek again, as she watches him look over the books.

Margaux’s rocking on her feet, as she watches Spencer thumb through the books, reading the summaries keeping his face neutral. She’s picking at her nails trying to not seem like a dog waiting. She should busy herself with something else besides trying to gauge Spencer’s reaction to the books, but she can’t help it.

Spencer pauses on a book with a bright colorful cover that was in the middle of the stack. It’s the only one he pauses on and Margaux’s face lights up.

“I loved Howl’s Moving Castle !” Her voice pitches up in enthusiasm. She starts talking with her hands again, “It’s fun, and the cast of characters who, in a magical world, feel so relatable. The two leads also have great dialogue! I was genuinely laughing out loud.” Margaux’s face is split into a grin as she explains the book to Spencer without spoiling anything.

She’s so filled with joy as she talks about the book, it doesn’t take him but a second of listening to her to know he’s sold. He’s reading this, her genuine joy selling him on it. He doesn’t have to look through the rest of the stack, though he’s sure she’s likely read all the books she offered him.

“I’ll take it.” He said, moving to stand up to purchase it at the counter.

She moves to stop him, “Don’t worry about it! You can pay on your way out. You look like you’ve been struggling with those crutches.” She tells him waving him back down to sit.

“Just relax, drink and read. It’s what the Midnight Owl’s for.” She chirps happily shooting him a triumphant look as she moves to walk back to the counter.

Margaux goes back to working on creating an order for books back at the checkout counter. She has the work desktop open back to the list of books she was cross referencing for prices. She goes back and forth from looking at her handwritten list to researching prices from different distributors.

The couple who was there earlier finally get up, waving goodbye to Margaux.

“Have a great night y’all! See you next week.” she tells them with her own wave that’s brief as she makes her order.

The only noise in the store is some shuffling and the music playing overhead and Margaux humming along to it. It’s a mix CD she burned a few years back and most of the songs are still her favorite. She keeps meaning to make a new one, but she just hasn’t had time. Her eyes wander from her computer to check on her new customer reading. She doesn’t want to hover, but she is trying to gauge if he’ll be a regular or not. She hopes so, he seemed nice enough.

Spencer can feel her eyes on him occasionally, he can see her fidgeting behind the counter. Every other song he can spot her leaning out of the corner of his eye to look over to him. He tries to hide his grin; he knows that look well. She’s trying to see if he’s enjoying the book. Spencer tries to read at a normal pace, even though he can read twenty thousand words per minute, that defeats the purpose of him trying to get out of his apartment to just devour this book. Plus, he kind of enjoys watching the store clerk.

She’s full of energy and he has no idea where it comes from, but it’s almost a nervous energy. She’s constantly moving, either fidgeting or walking through the stacks to check or tidy the books. She’s also passed in front of him a few times to check the cafe machines or even grab a pastry he’s sure has been there for too long, and she feels bad about selling it.

Spencer stays there for a few hours; he really doesn’t notice how long until the door opens and the bell chimes again.

“Morning!” The new woman cheers sleepily.

Margaux waves at her, “Morning Josie. There are still a few pastries left from yesterday, but I put them in the back fridge for you.”

The new woman waved back, “Thanks, I’m going to prep for today.”

Spencer finally looks at the time and realizes it’s five in the morning, he sighs standing up. He grabs his crutches and pushes himself toward the counter to pay for his book. If he’s lucky he could get an hour or two of a nap before work.

He gently slides the book over to her and her whole face brightens, “Have you liked it so far?” she asks him.

Spencer grins “It’s charming. You were right about the cast, it’s a great blend of characters that shouldn’t fit as well as they do together.”

Margaux’s nodding excitedly. “I don’t know if you’ve gotten to a certain part, but I won’t spoil it, I loved how they explain the magic that affects Sophie! It was a fun book.”

Spencer hands over some cash to pay for his book. “I’ve liked it so far. I’ll have to ask for another recommendation.” He tells her.

If Margaux was a dog, her ears would be pointed up and tail wagging, she cannot contain her pure joy.

“Absolutely! Anytime, it’s one of my favorite things.” She pushes her dark hair back and she looks down at the table nervously pushing his book back toward him with his change.

“I’m always happy to see a returning face.” She said looking up at him, her indigo eyes sparkling. “I’m Margaux by the way, I don’t know if I introduced myself.”

Spencer takes the book and his change; she smiles brilliantly at him, and he feels a little enchanted by the bookstore clerk. He returns it. “Spencer. It was nice to meet you.”

He gives her a small wave before walking out, crutches pushing him forward.

The one about Halloween

Margaux has decided that she does not care if it’s only September, she is decorating for Halloween. Maybe it’s that she’s festive or maybe it’s from growing up in a southern community that went all out for decorations, but she is determined that the Midnight Owl will be the place to be for October. She’s also planned a few events for the spooky month for all ages.

She has a few reading hours planned for children during the day, costume contests, and some trick or treat candy lined up to buy. Her shopping list was filling up quickly. For the nighttime events she’s gotten together with Josie to throw a movie night every Sunday night at eight in October. She’s already planned a lineup of movies to play and popcorn to order. Margaux still can’t decide on having two movies or not, a family friendly one first and then a scary one. She’ll figure it out.

To say she’s bubbling with excitement is an understatement.

She was in the middle of dragging out one of the boxes of decorations from the attic when the door chimes open.

“Welcome in! Help yourself to shop or if you wait a few minutes, I can fix you a drink at the cafe!” She shouts from behind the large box she's carrying. It’s not heavy, filled mostly with paper and plastic decorations. The box itself is just quite large and it blocks her view when she’s walking.

“What are you doing?” A soft chuckle passes through, and she recognizes it immediately. It’s her new favorite regular.

She sets the box down in a huff behind her counter and looks at Spencer exasperatedly.

“If you must know, I’m preparing for Halloween.” She said matter-of-factly.

Spencer’s hazel eyes light up, the same way he gets when he’s about to tell her a long list of facts about something. She loves it when he gets excited. It’s contagious.

“Oh, please continue then. It’s never too early for Halloween.” He said happily.

Margaux let out a burst of laughter and it echoes in the room, “Thank you! Finally, someone who understands.” She teases him.

Spencer’s been coming in almost every night since his first visit. It’s only been a month, but Margaux loves talking to Spencer. He’s full of endless information and he loves to read just as much, if not more, than she does.

He has an unfair advantage though. He had admitted how quickly he could read to her in passing a few weeks ago and her jaw dropped. She didn’t believe him at first.

“Okay, that’s the fifth book you’ve finished in like two days Spencer. Are you even actually reading them?” Margaux had teased him, when he returned to the shelves looking through her selections.

“Of course I do. I just happen to read twenty thousand words per minute.” He said easily running his fingers along the spines of the books as he pursues.

Margaux scoffs, “Yea right.” She rolled her eyes. “Just say you skim through them.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I’m serious, I have an eidetic memory too.” he tells her.

She blinked at him a few times in disbelief before just bursting into a fit of small giggles.

“Wow, I wish I could read that fast. I’d get through my TBR so much faster!” She said impressed.

Spencer pauses looking at her, trying to assess if she’s trying to make fun of him or not. Her face is split into a wide grin, and he realizes she is intrigued by this little tidbit. She didn't think it was weird, that he’s weird.

Spencer felt his face flush a bit, and he just shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s just a really cool fact about you.” She said like it was obvious.

Spencer mouth tighten into a fine line, and he shook his head, “That would be a first.” he had mumbled under his breath.

She didn’t press him, but she did file away in the back of her mind his response for later. Clearly Spencer wasn’t used to someone reacting positively to this tidbit about him.

Margaux looks at Spencer as he stands there watching her. He’s in his work clothes, which she’s used to by now, but it’s the opposite of what he wore when they first met. He’s in a purple button up shirt that he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. His cardigan is hanging off his faded brown leather satchel sitting against his hip. He’s leaning on his crutches as she assesses him.

“C’mon,” she says waving for him to follow her. “Let’s make something fall flavored to get rolling with the season.” She suggested a small smile tugging at her lips.

Spencer just nods and follows her toward the cafe section.

“Are you a fan of pumpkin flavors or do you prefer other autumn flavors?” She asked him as she walked around the counter to the coffee machines.

The pickup counter for the cafe doubles as a normal place to sit and Spencer grabs a stool to sit in, leaning his crutches against the counter.

“I only like my drinks sweet. Flavor isn’t too important.”

She hums in acknowledgement and gets to work on making him a drink. “I’ll just surprise you then.”

Spencer brings out a few books he’s reading and places them on the table. While Margaux’s making his drink she asks him, “What’s your favorite book to read to get into the spooky spirit?”

He perks up, “There’s plenty of options, I think I prefer something classic like The Shinning or maybe even an old compilation of ghost stories. Those are always good.” he said passionately.

“Ooh! I’m obsessed with the paranormal!” She gasped in excitement.

Spencer feeds into the enthusiastic response, “Did you know there are a multitude of categories of the paranormal? Most people only associate it with ghosts or demons, but ufology and cryptozoology are also subcategories. Personally, as interesting as ghost or demon possession stories are, I’m far more fascinated by cryptozoology and the creatures that different areas of the world claim to see and state they have proof of.”

Spencer realizes he’s rambling and tries to cut himself off, but Margaux's eyes are wide as she actively leans against the counter giving him her rapt attention.

She notices his abrupt stop and she tilts her head, “Keep going, you have my full attention! I’m trying to get into the spooky spirit!” She drawls out, her rich accent seeping through.

Margaux turns to grab his drink and hand it to him. It's in a nice burnt orange colored mug, “It’s a maple chai latte. Felt like fall to me.” She said quietly, having a matching mug with him. She leans against the counter and bats her hand at his forearm.

“C’mon tell me more!” She giggled.

Spencer stared at her in awe for a moment, before he tried to hide his expression through drinking his latte.

“Ghost hunting became popular in the early 2000s, but it’s been around since the 1920’s and even before then there were popular ghost stories told throughout history! Humans have always been interested in the afterlife which is why we’re probably so fascinated by looking for proof of the afterlife.”

Margaux nodded and sips from her own mug, “Have you ever watched those ghost hunting shows before?” she asked curiously.

Spencer shook his head no. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”

She hums in thought, “Yeah, that checks out. Well, they’re super cheesy and trashy. Love them to be honest.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asked, leaning closer toward her against the bar.

It felt like it was only the two of them in the bookstore. Inside their own bubble, the world moved slowly inside the confines of the Midnight Owl.

“This is gonna sound so awful!” She laughed lightly shaking her head, “There’s a show called Ghost Adventures, and the main guy, Zak Bagans, he’s such a dick to the ghosts! He instigates all the time, and I mean, regardless of if ghosts are real, he goes in hot ! Not to mention he always throws his costar Aaron into the worst places! It’s just insane, absolute trash.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

“But you love it?” Spencer asked.

Margaux gives him a deadpan stare, “Oh absolutely, it’s the best kind of quality trash.”

She burst into a fit of giggles and Spencer couldn’t help but find it contagious.

“Aaaaaaanyway~” She drags out, moving to grab her box of decorations.

“Wanna help me decide how to decorate?” she asked him, grabbing a pumpkin garland out of her bin and tossing it dramatically over her shoulders like a scarf.

Spencer brushes his loose hair out of his face and nods. He may still be useless on crutches, but he could help her... Kind of.

Margaux empties the containers of the bin on the counter where Spencer’s sitting and he quickly grabs his mug to lift it up to avoid being knocked over from the avalanche of orange and black. She smiled at him apologetically before trying to dig out her favorite decorations.

Spencer’s face is twisted in a look of frustration as he sits in the corner reading. He came in a while ago and besides his drink, he hasn’t spoken much to Margaux.

Which isn’t a bad thing, tonight was one of her busier nights. It was mid-October, and the festivities had been nonstop. Tonight was vampire night, which upon entering the building Spencer was already grimacing. There was a special drink deal on the board hanging above the cafe for anyone buying a vampire related book. Twilight , Dracula , Carmilla , Interview with a Vampire, just pick a title it was an option with its own fun themed cafe drink that was absolutely red.

It wasn’t like Margaux knew he had just finished working on a case that involved vampirism, but the odds weren’t in his favor for finding an escape from the most recent case. Halloween season had its ups and downs he supposed.

There was no way of explaining his slightly irritable mood. Spencer hadn’t mentioned his work to her. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t feel like explaining that he spent most of his waking hours profiling serial killers. In the past it hasn’t made the best openers in conversation. It’s also nice to have this small corner of his life not be coated with unsubs, victims, and death. It’s just his favorite bookstore.

Spencer looked up to see Margaux making more drinks, the cafe was popular tonight. She’s chatting up another woman who’s laughing at the joke Margaux’s telling her. The other woman is holding a book that Spencer is positive is a vampire novel.

“And I have one raspberry mocha for a Carmilla lover!” Margaux’s voice rang out and she handed over the drink to the customer.

“Come back Sunday for our movie night, we’re playing Beetlejuice !” Margaux said and waved goodbye to the customer.

For eleven o'clock at night Margaux was busy. Busting out drink after drink and ringing up books at the cafe register. It was her idea to do a deal with a themed book and drink combo, but she didn’t expect to still be busy into the night. She hadn’t even had a break in customers to say hello to her regulars.

For business, this was great, for her own mental health, she was struggling. She just needed it to slow down enough to catch her breath. She should have scheduled someone else on shift with her, but she wasn’t about to call for help now. It was her mistake, and she’ll live with it. She will make a note to make sure someone is on shift with her tomorrow night for a different themed deal.

After another round of five more customers Margaux finally has a break. She sighed leaning against the counter and took a grounding breath. She doesn’t move for a minute, just catching her breath before she looks up and catches Spencer from his chair looking at her. She shoots him a shaky smile that is supposed to be reassuring but actually looks like she's about to cry. Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he decides to get up and go toward her. The cafe was still bustling but no one was sitting at the counter. Spencer shoves his book into his bag, grabs his crutches and hobbles to the counter.

“Busy night?” he asked, already knowing the answer but trying to see how she was doing.

Margaux’s midnight eyes look up into his hazel ones and she looks worn. “In my head, the whole vampire bomb and Halloween themed event seemed like a good idea. For profit, absolutely. For my sanity? I never wanna see another Twilight shirt or raspberry flavored item for a while.” she said in a groan leaning against the counter.

“What is Twilight ?” Spencer asks her.

He doesn’t know anything except that it has something to do with vampires and its popular enough that the victims of the latest case were also obsessed with it. He knows it’s a book, but besides that, he has no clue.

Margaux blinks at him for a moment, trying to deduce if he’s being serious or not. “Very funny Spencer, I know you’re not asking what the pop culture phenomenon Twilight franchise is.” She replied with a laugh.

After a moment of looking at Spencer’s confused face she realized he was in fact, unaware. Her eyes widen.

“Wait, wait, wait, you seriously don’t know? I mean it’s like everywhere. The second movie is coming out in less than a month. I don’t think I’ve sold so many copies of a book in my life. I can’t keep New Moon on the shelves.” she said almost exasperatedly, but the smile on her face gives her away. If Spencer didn’t know any better, he’d think she was getting a kick out of it. He knows by now Margaux won’t make fun of him; she’s elated for a completely different reason.

“I just know it’s popular and about vampires.” He replied with a shrug.

“Oh my god, I get to explain Twilight to you.” Her face splits into a massive grin, her energy returning quickly.

Spencer quirks an eyebrow at her, “I thought you were over hearing Twilight?”

“No, no, no, no! This is totally different!” She’s almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve read all the books, I’m gonna let you borrow my copy next time you’re in! Actually, I’ll give you the first two since you read so fast!” her words are running together in a run on sentence she’s talking too fast. Her accent came through stronger than ever with her eagerness.

He doesn’t have it in him to turn her down, she’s so thrilled. Spencer just finds himself too caught up in her own joy to tell her he had no interest in the book series. He finds himself agreeing to her letting him borrow her copies.

“I can buy them if you need me too. I don’t want to take your copies unless, you’re sure.” He offers.

Margaux shakes her head, “I can’t keep them on the shelves long enough for you to buy them. Just go ahead and take my copies.” She moves to make Spencer a drink that isn’t one of the red blood themed drinks on the menu. “It’s not a big deal. I do have a lot of sticky notes in there though, my friends and I read it for a book club night.”

He sits up a little straighter, suddenly becoming more interested in reading these books. Not because of their pop culture relevance but because he could read Margaux’s commentary. There was something special about that, sharing a book with annotations.

“I’ll bring one too.” He finds himself offering before he can think.

Margaux’s face glows as she hands him a chai latte. “I’d love that! It’ll take me a bit longer to read than you will.” she joked lightly.

“It’ll be worth it; I haven’t had someone to talk to about books since my mom.” He said looking down at his drink, his eyes growing distant for a split second.

Margaux opens her mouth to ask but quickly shuts it, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself. She might be nosy, but she knew when to not pry. It was how Spencer seemed to be somewhere else in his mind, if only for a moment. It was enough to know that she had no business asking him to open a can of worms he maybe didn’t want to. Instead, she turns around to grab a set of fake vampire teeth to put in her mouth. They were small and awkward and not cute by any means, but if she could get him to smile, that was all she needed.

She patiently waits for Spencer to look back up at her as she rests her head in her palm and keeps her face neutral. The fake teeth are making her mouth uncomfortable, but she’ll survive.

When Spencer does look up and sees Margaux dramatically batting her eyes at him and grinning madly with children’s plastic vampire teeth, he can’t control the bubbling laughter that takes over him. His shoulders shake with the full body movement, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Where did you get those?” he asked through his fit.

She turns to spit them out into the trash, her mouth disgustingly filled with drool from the uncomfortable teeth. She covers her mouth and grabs her own drink to flush out her mouth.

“They were a gimmick for the themed drinks tonight.” she finally replied. “Good for a quick joke not for actually wearing.” she said groaning.

“Pretty sure they are made for children’s mouths.” Spencer teased.

She shrugs and sighs, “Well, being a vampire for Halloween is off the list of options this year. I don’t want to wear those for a whole night.”

“Probably better off.” He said trying to not immediately focus on Dante and his manager coercing a mentally ill young woman into committing vampire ritual like murders.

“Yeah, the whole thing with that celebrity kinda left a sour taste in my mouth.” she mentioned grimacing.

“Dante?” Spencer asked for clarification.

“Yeah, it was all over the tabloids,” she pointed to the magazine stand by the main register. “Got them in this morning.”

Spencer tries to not make a face as he sees them, “You read that?”

Margaux lets out a loud snort of a laugh. “No, no, no, oh god!” She stands up a little straighter and pushes her dark hair out of her face. “I don’t trust a TMZ article as far as I can throw it, but those murders are real. Making it look like vampire bites... that just skeeves me out.”

Spencer drinks from his mug but nods his head in agreement. He didn’t peg her to believe paparazzi reports. The magazine articles would be wrong anyway; they didn’t make the arrest until that afternoon. It was refreshing to see someone not believe everything they read.

“If vampires are off your list, what other costumes are you thinking about?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“No idea.” Margaux groans out in irritation. “I usually do group costumes with my friends but, kind of hard when they live 600 miles away.”

“South?” he asked.

She snorted with a roll of her eyes, “Aw geez what gave it away?” she teases with an exaggerated drawl, making her accent thicker than normal.

Spencer shakes his head in amusement. “Very funny. Why move here?”

Margaux tenses up, avoiding his doe eyes. She looks down biting her lip nervously. “It’s uh, a long story.” she said quietly.

Her body almost looks like it’s trying to shrink in on itself. Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to understand her body language. Whatever it is, she’s not ready to share it.

Instead, he tries to be reassuring that he’s not prying for information.

“I’m a transplant too. I grew up in Las Vegas.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’ve never been, is it really just the strip filled with casinos or are there nice pockets of peace and no tourists?” she asked.

Spencer sighs, “It is a lot of tourists. There’s plenty of local places, ones that are only there if you’ve grown up knowing how to get to them.” he told her in a quiet voice, almost conspiratorially.

Her mouth splits into a smile that reaches her eyes, her dark indigo eyes sparkling, “So you’ll be my tour guide, right?”

Spencer’s face heats up from the suggestion and Margaux’s giggles fill the room.

“I’m just teasing you,” she pats his arm reassuringly before going to grab a pastry from the front display.

“Come on and split this last cookie with me, I know I'm not going to sell it.” She said grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and warming it up before cutting it in half.

Spencer’s face is still tinted pink but the soft cookie and the way it melts when he bites into it and seeing Margaux look happier than earlier, it's enough for him. A small corner of peace in the world inside the Midnight Owl.

The one after Haley’s funeral

Margaux’s sitting at the checkout counter reading the book Spencer most recently traded with her. It’s one of the Sherlock Homles books, which she had admittedly never read before. She had watched plenty of films and shows but reading it never really crossed her mind.

She joked about making Spencer watch The Great Mouse Detective when she finished so she could explain her first introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He had no idea what she was talking about, which Margaux found charming in its own way. She loved introducing Spencer to the pop culture media that just filled her brain. Even if it was trashy. She had promised him The Great Mouse Detective was anything but trash. A childhood classic for her.

She takes her time reading the books Spencer gives her. He started leaving small post-it notes for her in them with commentary and questions. It was like they had their own language, and it was books. Even if he let her borrow a genre, she had no interest in, she suddenly was invested. It was a way to get to know him, and in turn he took her books happily. Her annotations were way more scattered brained and filled with tiny commentary to herself.

She saw Spencer reading one of her books she let him borrow and he laughed, loudly, in the middle of the store. They were both flushed in embarrassment. It was a busy night, filled with university students studying late at night, so it was mostly silent besides the music Margaux was playing through the speakers. She also knew she had written something insulting about one of the characters on that sticky note. She got creative with her insults, and she had completely forgotten to take that out before giving it to him. Spencer had teased her about her comments on Gale from The Hunger Games for the rest of that night.

She’s in the middle of The Hounds of Baskerville when the door opens. She looks up to greet them but her face falls when she sees Spencer. She slowly closes the book and moves to walk toward him.

His eyes were hollow and the normal dark circles under his eyes seemed impossibly darker than usual. Spencer just seemed sad and defeated. Margaux had not seen this side of him and all she wanted to do was press her thumb to his forehead and smooth out the furrow of his brow. To get him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Hey honey, what’s wrong?” she asked gently walking toward him. She reaches out to rub his arms affectionately, “What happened?”

Her voice is soft and sweet, the way she said honey with her drawl feels like a hug. Spencer just needed a minute. One second of peace. The image of Haley’s body unmoving with blood still fresh behind his eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” His voice comes out a little rough. He’s haggard from the flight from Nashville and he really didn’t want to go home.

The only comforting place he could think of immediately was the Midnight Owl, Margaux. Her warm voice and comforting drinks were the only things he could stand to be around.

Margaux’s face softens at his words, and she tilts her head, “Do you need a hug?” she asked softly.

There’s a shaky sigh that escapes Spencer’s mouth and he just nods his head, unable to form the words.

Margaux pulls him into her embrace gently, her arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly. She rubs soothing circles into his back and Spencer holds onto her waist. Her body radiates heat and it's comforting as he shoves his face into her shoulder. She smells like vanilla, cloves, and parchment paper and his whole body relaxes into her. She holds onto him until Spencer pulls away, not wanting him to feel like he was burdening her. The store was empty anyway, it's been a slow night.

He takes a deep breath before peeling himself off her. He moves his hands to hold her arms so he’s supporting himself. Margaux’s eyes soften as she looks him over, her hand coming up to cup his face.

“You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” She whispers softly.

Spencer relaxes against her touch and doesn’t say much, just hums in response. He eventually finds his words, “My friends wife died recently, and it just, it was a shock.”

He doesn’t want to get into how Haley died. That his job makes him and his coworkers targets. The people they love. George Foyet died at Hotch’s hands for killing Haley and attempting to kill Jack. Spencer watched Hotch’s face crumble, fall and lose what he loved the most. He knew Hotch didn’t want to divorce Haley, he loved her and his son with his whole heart.

That love had cost him Haley’s life.

“Oh hun,” Margaux’s voice brings him back, “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m just processing it.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, you’re allowed to process and grieve, especially if you knew her.” She tells him firmly. “C’mon, go sit down and I’m gonna make a delicious warm drink and we can just relax alright?”

Spencer gives a tiny, tight smile and lets her grab his hand to pull him to one of the nicer chairs. He sets his cane against the armrest and is floored by how easy everything is with Margaux.

She doesn’t push or pry for information, let’s him ramble, and Spencer doesn’t think he’s had a real friend outside of the BAU in a long time, much less someone his age. As much as he loves his team, there are times where they don’t understand him. It’s a lot easier to be himself with Margaux. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know what he’s doing most of his days, and he could argue with himself that she doesn’t know him. Almost 90% of his life is the BAU, and who is he if he isn’t Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI agent in the Behavioral Analyst Unit? A small part of him hopes he would be the person he becomes when he enters the Midnight Owl.

He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice her walking over with two steaming mugs.

“Here, it’s just tea but I think you need a relaxing drink. No caffeine.” She said her tone is sweet as she looks him over.

She sits on the arm rest of the chair cradling her own mug. “Can I try something?” she asks him.

Spencer is drinking from his mug, but he mutters an agreement under his breath.

“Lean back fully in the chair.” she instructed.

He does as he’s told, he lowers his hands to his lap, mug still warmly pressed into his hands. Spencer isn’t sure what she’s trying to do until her hands are running through his hair, feather light. She’s not massaging his scalp, just the lightest of touches as she cards her fingers through his long hair. Spencer’s eyes close and he almost moans from how the tension leaves his body immediately.

Margaux lets out a tiny snort but continues the motions.

“My momma used to do this when I was little.” She whispers to him, keeping her voice low.

“I would be asleep in an instant.” she emphasized with a quiet snap of her fingers.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open to look up at her, his big doe eyes looking up to see Margaux’s soft features look highlighted in the warm glow of the lamps. She looks down at him and tilts her head.

“I might pass out like this.” he murmured in a low voice.

“You can if you want. Promise I won’t let anyone bother you... not that anyone’s coming in anytime soon.” She drawls out looking around at the empty shop.

“Just a quick nap, twenty minutes.” he told her, voice already fading and his eyes growing heavy.

She doesn’t respond to him, just continues stroking his hair until he falls asleep. He feels the warm mug leave his hands and he hears ceramic clank onto the wooded side table next to him.

Margaux watches Spencer sleep, giving him much longer than twenty minutes. His dark circles told her enough, he needed this nap more than he was letting on. It takes less than five minutes for Spencer to pass out. His body relaxed into the chair with all tension leaving his body. She slows down her movements until she feels safe enough to stop. His small snore telling her he was asleep.

She moved to stand and went back to her duties, which wasn’t more than inventory tonight. Mondays were always slow.

Margaux moved about the bookshop, filing away books, crossing off things on her checklist, and besides the few customers that came in for less than twenty minutes each, the night was quiet. Enough so that she let Spencer sleep much longer than twenty minutes.

Spencer sleeps peacefully for most of the night. She checks on him occasionally, and besides the few snores, he’s sound asleep.

Around four in the morning he stirs awake, blinking blearily and looks around the store. Margaux hears him and pokes her head out from behind a shelf.

“Good morning sunshine!” She teases in a chipper tone.

Spencer looks at her confused before looking down at his watch. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked, tone not accusing, just confused.

Margaux shrugged and made her way over to him, “You looked like you needed the sleep.”

She gently reaches her hand up to smooth the furrow of his brow. “You’ll die young from all that stress you’re carrying on your shoulders.” She tells him softly. The way she’s gently touching his forehead is like she’s trying to erase the stress and pressure.

Spencer sighs into her touch, “For sleeping on a chair, it was pretty peaceful.” he murmurs.

Margaux snorts in amusement. “Well, at least I know they’re comfy.”

“I sleep on planes frequently, so this is much better.” he tells her.

“Travel a lot for work?” She asked.

Spencer just nods. Not wanting to explore too deep into his job. The job that was leaving him sleepless most nights.

“Do you feel any better?” she asks quietly.

He nods solemnly. “Better than when I arrived.” he said with a shrug.

Margaux frowns but doesn’t push, she pushes his hair back again giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m a good listener if you ever need to talk. Promise.” She puts out her pinky finger in the childish gesture of a pinky promise.

Spencer finds himself smiling, finding it charming. Regardless of his problem with germs, it doesn’t feel so intense with Margaux. She’s not a stranger anymore. He hooks his pinky with hers.

“Not now.” He whispers. “But someday...”

“Someday.” she reaffirms.

The one about family

Spencer’s surprised to see that Margaux isn’t working one random night in November. He knows that, of course, Margaux can’t possibly be working every single night he comes in. It just throws him off when he doesn’t see her immediately. The sunshine woman behind the bar making him a new sickly sweet coffee to try. She’s only ever missed one day max two, so he doesn’t think much of it. Just a blip on his night.

One night without her suddenly turns into half a week. Everyday Spencer walks in and it’s not her bright bubbly voice greeting him. It’s one of the handful of people who work the late-night shift. They aren’t strangers, Spencer’s ran into a couple of them occasionally. So, when Spencer comes into the bookstore to see, yet again, Robert, manning the front desk lazily flipping through a magazine, his mild frustration turns to worry. Margaux’s been gone for four days and none of her coworkers seem to know why.

What if she’s sick? What if something happened to her? Did she take a vacation? Is she in danger?

The thoughts consume Spencer so much he almost calls Penelope to track her down. Or at least give him her address to check on her. He pulls himself together and realizes that it would be a bad idea and an invasion of her privacy. He’ll just have to wait it out.

Spencer does wait, mostly because he’s forced too. The BAU never truly stops working.

When he finally sees Margaux again it’s near the tail end of November and way too close to Thanksgiving for his liking. He feels like she’s been gone for ages, but it’s only been two weeks. The door chimes behind him as he walks in, he’s expecting to see her big dark indigo eyes light up with a smile on her flushed pink cheeks. The way she’s always greeted him.

Instead, he sees a side of Margaux that he’s not used to at all. She looks tired, exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes could compete against his natural ones. She’s wearing glasses which he’s never seen on her before. Her hair is haphazardly tied up, and Margaux’s in a large well-worn sweater that reads, ‘Read Banned Books’. He doesn’t think she’s slept much, if at all, since he last saw her.

She looks like a zombie, barely functioning.

She doesn’t even register Spencer enter; she’s standing at the checkout counter finishing a transaction with a customer. She’s swaying on her feet the whole time.

Spencer lets her finish the interaction before coming over to the counter, concern clear on his face.

“Margaux?” He says her name softly as he approaches.

Her eyes fly up to him and widen a little in surprise, her body reacts with a small flinch. “Oh god Spencer!” She gives a soft laugh her hand coming up to clutch her chest, “You scared me! I didn’t hear you come in.” she tries to calm herself down.

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and Spencer can tell. It doesn’t take a profiler to see she’s not herself. Her eyes are only half open, her hands shaking from what he can only assume is the obscene amount of caffeine she probably has in her system. Everything just seems muted, not in the bright colors he used to seeing her be framed in.

“Are you feeling okay? You’ve been gone for a while.” he prompts, trying to get something out of her. A clue to what might have happened. Anything.

She shakes her head, “I’m fine, everything’s fine.” She said a little too quickly.

Spencer doesn’t buy it, but he’s kept enough secrets to himself to know he probably shouldn’t go looking into friends’ private lives. Some things he knows he’d rather keep to himself... but seeing her like this, he wants to help.

She avoids his eyes and starts to play with her hands on the counter. “I-” she opens her mouth but promptly shuts it again. She bites her cheek with a frown plastered on her face.

“Sorry, it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She says quickly before turning to grab some books from behind the desk to busy herself with.

She doesn’t want to talk about or think about it. It’s been a long two weeks, and she just needs some normalcy. Something that she knows she can do and enjoys.

Margaux feels Spencer’s eyes burning into her. She’s trying to keep her usual high energy, she truly is. Everything has been so rough this month; she just needs a break. The bookstore was her solace. The Midnight Owl wasn’t just a job, it was Margaux’s home. Her safe haven.

She didn’t want to bring her real life here, not when sometimes her only highlight is seeing Spencer and sharing books back and forth. If he starts asking about her life outside the four walls of her shop, she doesn’t know if she can hold herself together. Not today.

“Margaux,” he opens his mouth trying to get her attention again.

“Really Spencer, it’s fine, I’m fine!” she tells him, a short tone to her voice.

She spins on her heels to walk somewhere, anywhere, else. “You know I have your book actually, let me return it. I left some notes in there.” She makes it five or six steps before she falters and sways again. Spencer reaches out to grab her and steadies her.

“Forget the book Margaux, you don’t look fine.” He makes her face him. “You look exhausted.” He chastises her.

She deflates immediately and lets Spencer guide her to a chair. He gently sets her down and he pries the book out of her hand and places it on the side table.

“Sorry, you don’t have to take care of me.” she murmurs feebly swatting him away. “I just...” Margaux takes a deep breath. “I had to take dad to the hospital on Tuesday and it’s just been downhill all week...” she admits timidly. She pushed her glasses up her hairline and pressed the heels of her palm to her eyes.

“I haven’t gotten much sleep.” she admits.

“You’ve run yourself ragged.” Spencer lowers himself to be eye level with her. “Is he home now?” he asks gently.

“No, they’re keeping him one more night.” She said with a heavy sigh.

Her arms fell in between her knees, and she leans her head back exhausted. “It’s just been hard this past year...” Her voice is small and lingers with sadness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

Spencer maybe doesn’t like talking about his hardships, but he’ll listen to Margaux’s if she lets him. He wants to desperately ease her mind, see her smile.

She looks up at him, eyes wide as she assesses him. “I don’t want to put my problems on you Spencer.” She gives a tight smile. “I’ll figure it out.”

Spencer reaches out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t mean that you’re inconveniencing me. I'm just worried.”

She sighs, already feeling him chip away at her. She didn’t stand a chance against his big doe eyes looking at her like she was fragile.

She takes a deep breath before answering him, “My dad has ALS, he was diagnosed a few years ago... I’ve been taking care of him.” she admits.

“Where we were, the doctors just weren’t cutting it. So, I did some research and of course there were stellar doctors in DC... plus my baby sister came here for university so I just thought... maybe it would be easier. On all of us.” The tone of her voice gives her worry away.

“Anyway, he just, he had an accident and fell down the other day. His legs are finally giving out and he’s being so stubborn about needing a wheelchair.” Her voice shakes and she closes her eyes.

“It’s been a long week.” She finally admits looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.

Spencer understands. He’s spent most of his life taking care of his mom because of her own illness. While Margaux’s dad is suffering from something different, he understands. Probably more than she realizes.

“I get it, I do.” he tells her. Margaux goes to retort, but he cuts her off. “I took care of my mom for a long time. She...” He pauses looking at Margaux, debating for a moment on if he should tell her.

“My mom has schizophrenia, and I committed her when I was eighteen.” he tells her with a tight frown.

“It’s hard to take care of your parents, especially when it’s their job to take care of us.” He tells her sincerely.

Margaux has tears pricking her eyes, “Oh Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I’m telling you this because I understand. I promise I do, it’s not easy.”

Margaux takes a shaky breath; her heart feels like it’s a thousand pounds. “Does it ever get easier?” she asks softly.

Spencer squeezes her hand, “No, it doesn’t. There are happy moments though. Moments where you know you’re doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult.”

She sniffles and wipes her face, “Thanks, I uh, I needed that.” she said with a small smile.

It’s getting closer to Christmas. The bookstore is decorated and busier than ever. There’s a handful of special events but between people coming in to buy presents and university students staying all night to study for finals, Margaux has her hands full.

There’s a second staff member working nights with her this month until the holiday break starts for the store. Which Margaux and Josie were adamant about closing the bookstore between Christmas Eve and New Years. If someone needed a book that badly they could go to a big box store.

What she really doesn’t need right now is her baby sister coming to her place of work and harassing her about Christmas and their dad.

“Bridget, I don’t have time to discuss this with you right now!” Margaux hisses out at her younger sister. “You didn’t spend Thanksgiving with us and daddy really wants you to come home just for Christmas.” She chastised her sister with a frown.

Margaux has a pause in customers for the moment, but she knows that the large study group is coming in half an hour like they have been for the past week and half.

“That’s not fair Maggie!” Her sister groans in frustration using Margaux’s nickname. “I made these plans months ago; Mark really wants me to spend Christmas with his family.”

Margaux crosses her arms and looks at her baby sister sadly. “Birdie, we don’t know how much time we get with dad-” she starts but is cut off.

Bridget’s face scrunches in disgust at her sister’s words and huffs exaggeratedly. “Good god Maggie! He’s not gonna die over the holidays, stop fucking guilt trippin’ me over every decision because it doesn’t revolve around dad!”

Bridget’s annoyed and Margaux can tell, she always tries to skirt around her problems when she’s frustrated. She thinks Margaux’s trying to back her into a corner.

“Birdie-”

“It’s Bri. I go by Bri here.” Her baby sister crosses her arms and looks at Margaux in annoyance.

“Look, I know dad’s sick, I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were Bridget.” Margaux said defensively.

She rolled her eyes, “I didn’t decide to pack everything up and move dad out to DC. Just because you’re closer doesn’t mean I’m going to stop living my life to take care of daddy.”

Margaux bites her tongue. Trying to not fight with her sister, but her irritation rises in her throat. Burning words of resentment linger in her mind.

“Fine. Would you please just call him on Christmas and please come by after the New Year. He really misses you.” She tries to plead with her sister.

Bridget just waves goodbye as she walks out the door, “Will do. See you next year Mags!” she almost ran out the door.

Margaux deflates, her shoulders dropping. She almost doesn’t hear Spencer walking up next to her holding a gift bag in his hands.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” he said.

She looks up at him and smiles at her favorite regular. Her friend. She thinks they’re allowed to call each other friends now. He already saw her cry and that was a big step for her.

Margaux shakes her head, “Yeah, we’re not as close as we used to be.” she mumbles under her breath.

Spencer nods his head. He never had any siblings, but he can read her face well enough to know she’s not thrilled.

“It’s fine.” she shrugs and gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She leans against the counter. “What’s that you got there?” she asked, changing the subject.

She’s pointing to the gift bag in his hands. She tilts her head curiously.

“Oh, this is,” he flushes for a split second rushing his words out. “This is for you. I know you’re closing for the holiday soon and I don’t know if I’ll have a last-minute work call or not so., I brought your Christmas present.” He fumbled through his words quickly, but he held out the small bag for her.

She lights up immediately. Her eyes shimmer with excitement. “Aww, Spencer! This is so kind thank you!”

She bends down below the counter and grabs her own item, “I actually have your present too.” she said shyly, handing him a wrapped package.

Spencer is quiet as he gently takes the gift from her, a tiny smile on his face. He brushes his hair back out of his face as he looks at her softly.

“This is so kind thank you.”

Giddy giggles consume her, and she holds the gift bag. “Should we open them together or do you want to wait until Christmas?” She asked.

Spencer shakes his head, “No no, you can open it now.” he reassures her.

Margaux smiles, biting the inside of her cheek and opens her present. Under the tissue paper is a sweater that’s twice her size and it’s the softest thing she’s ever felt. She pulls it out and it’s a purple crocheted sweater with a beautiful sun right in the middle. It reminds her of one of the tapestries from the late nineties that would have been in Practical Magic or something like that.

“Oh Spencer, this is perfect.” she says quietly holding it tightly to her chest. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

Margaux pulls off her cardigan and immediately shoves the sweater on. She nestles herself inside it and grins widely, “It matches your scarf!”

Spencer just takes in her joy and how she lights up, and he’s happy he could make her feel better.

“Well go on open yours!” she said excitedly pushing her wrapped package toward him.

Spencer gently peels back the wrapping paper and uncovers a white box; he opens the box to find a ceramic mug. Its custom made, with some uneven texture. It’s glazed a speckled purple and wrapped around the bottom is a quote, “Some books are so familiar that reading them is being home again.” -L.M. Alcott

Spencer is quietly inspecting it, and Margaux starts explaining. She pushes her midnight hair behind her ear, “I uh, I took a pottery class in my free time this past year. Since you’re here so much I thought you would like your own mug.” she said hesitantly.

Spencer’s eyes widen, “You, you made this? For me?” he asked in surprise.

She nods, looking down at the counter nervously.

Spencer makes his way around the counter and pulls her into a tight hug. “This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me.” he whispers to her.

She returns the hug holding Spencer tightly. She presses her face into his shoulder, and she feels infinitely better than how her night started.

When they pull apart Margaux plays with the edge of her new sweaters' sleeves, a small blush on her face. “Do you go visit your mama for holidays?” She asked him.

Spencer shakes his head, “Not all the time. My job doesn’t usually care if it’s a holiday or not.” he tells her.

She nods, “Well, I hope you get to this year Spencer. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

He takes a shaky breath and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try to see her soon.”

Margaux nudges him lightly, trying to keep the tone light, “Want a fresh drink in your new mug?” she teases.

Spencer chuckles but nods his head. “I’d love that.”

“We’re about to test run if I’m actually good at pottery. So, fingers crossed it doesn’t leak.” She jokes moving to the cafe counter at the back of the store.

Spencer watches her walk away, with a skip in her step like the first night he came to the Midnight Owl. The way she easily glides through the crowd and chatters with customers and giggling.

She shines bright like a star, like the sun.

A/N: This is the first part of a series of long one shots following Margaux and her relationship with Spencer Reid. This starts in season 5.

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #original character #season 5 criminal minds

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toulousewayne · 8 months

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Batfamily Shenanigans:Head-canons Pt: 4

The Wayne family attends Gala all the time. Some have for years, but that doesn’t mean that all enjoy them. Bruce and Damian attend them purely for appearances, Dick is there to kept his siblings from burning down the building, Jason always sneaks in as different undercover identities, Tim has to go because he has to also keep up appearances but most of the time you will find him indirectly call the investors idiots. Duke and Steph are at the snack table, Cass sticks next to Babs at the table and they watch the chaos together. Alfred joins them sometimes.

It comes as to no shock that Tim has severe Narcolepsy, but Dick and Bruce have insomnia.

Damian watched Tim while he sleeps. No one knows when he started but he always tells the other it’s because Tim is prone to falling. Which is lie but no one ever stops him.

Stephanie is very skilled mechanic, sometimes when there’s down time she’s found repairing or working on of the bat bikes or the Batmobile.

Dick Grayson is color blind. It’s only when he comments on Stephanie’s brown sweater that Jason points out to him. Barbara and Bruce knew the whole time and just thought he was doing it to be funny, it comes as a shock to Dick though.

Duke and Cass go to the flee market every Sunday. The buy fresh produce and eggs for Alfred. Cass even thrifts a few clothing pieces.

Speaking of Clothes, no one has all their clothes anymore. Jason’s hoodies are always stole from the manor, his safehouses in the city and out of the country it doesn’t matter. They’ll usually end up in Cass, Tim or Steph’s closet. Dick’s T-shirts are public domain at this point because all his siblings have at least one of them. Barbara can never find her fuzzy socks until she visit the manor next and find them on Damian and Stephanie’s feet. Tim’s jewelry is always around Cass’ neck. Damian is the only safe because no one can fit his stuff but he does get Duke and Tim’s clothes they’ve outgrown.

Cass will sometimes spend time with Alfred in the cave repairing the suits. She’s very good at sewing.

Selina is lactose intolerant, Bruce finds this hilarious.

Duke took dance classes sense he was eight. He can dance the waltz, break dance, ballet, jig, salsa, and a few others.

Bruce allowed Tim create the design of the newest bat tech.

Alfred enjoys his tea with sugar and crème, Damian of course likes sugar and lemon. They have weekly tea parties in the sunroom with Alfred the cat and Titus.

Dick has the most mixed playlist of songs. So, whether he’s on a steal out with Bruce, driving Damian to soccer practice, or even just cleaning his apartment by himself he’s got something for everyone.

Barbara loves Amy Winehouse, she plays her record several times a day in the Clocktower.

While on the subject of music, Tim can sing and it was very embarrassing when his family found out. Tim was in his room singing with his headphones on but his door was open and he didn’t realize how loud he was. Dick and Steph came across him singing. Stephanie record it and sent it to the group. Tim was embraced by his family for his beautiful voice and they wanted to hear more, but poor Tim wanted the world to swallow him whole. Jason can play guitar and Dick can’t sing well but he can also play guitar in addition to the bass.

Damian is able to find his family with little tech involved. The OG Titans came back to the tower after helping Donna with a mission and Robin was perched in their living room. He gave Wally a heart attack. Tim was having a game night with Conner,Bart, and Cassie and the scream Bart unleashed when they found Damian in the kitchen starring at the pizza boxes on the counter and questioned Tim on lack of a proper diet.

Clark has nearly broken the sound barrier twice over not being able to hear Bruce’s heartbeat. Luckily both times Bruce had to slow his heart rate to be near death to escape sticky situations and both were ended due to a worried Krypton.

“I wanted Red Claw to think I was dead, I had to slow my heart rate to throw her off.”

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO SAY THAT TO ME, I WAS IN AUSTRALIA?”

Speaking of the Man of Steel, when Dick was freshly Robin and before Clark married Lois, the Boy Wonder tried to set up his father and Clark on several blind dates. Once he canceled a date of Bruce’s and rescheduled a business dinner for Clark and the two ended up on a romantic balcony date in Metropolis. They were both shocked and a blushing mess. It got worse when the waiter address the “Happy Couple” has was instructed from the reservation that Dick set.

Robin got an ear full the next morning from Bruce but to Dick it was worth it and even Alfred may have pulled a string or two.

Another time Bruce couldn’t watch Dick and Alfred was visiting London for the next week and Bruce had to Wayne Enterprises Event. He asked Clark if he could watch Dick for the night and of course he offered.

Not even five minutes after he left did Dick turn to Clark,”So, your dating my Father?”

Clark was as red as his cape and he tried to explain to Dick they are just friends. “Whatever you say Clark, but just curious would you take his last name or will he take yours? Because honestly I don’t see why you can’t use both—“

Clark cover his face as the young bird continued to show his support for his favorite ship.

“Are you also gonna adopt me too now?”

“Okay, time to see what time your Father’s coming back.” He sighed.

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ar3s-r4t-qu33n · 23 days

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Johnny's Bluffing

CW for discussion of potential sexual assault, toxic/unhealthy relationships, stalking, obsession, and, of course, murder and cannibalism. Nothing like, too crazy I think? But especially this one section on sexual assault, it's brief but separated out so it's quite easy to skip if that makes folks uncomfortable.

Hi I am currently in a really bad insomnia cycle and as such haven't slept so I'm sure I'm gonna have missed something that immediately prove me wrong, but here we go:

I don't think that certain members of the Family know that Maria is alive, and especially Nancy. This theory sort of delves into a lot of different stuff, I wrote and rewrote this a fair bit and idk, this is what I ended up with. It's a lot of my personal interpretation of both the written text and the way lines are delivered, as well as my own analyses on characters and how I personally think the timeline of events went (Danny and Virginia dying before the gang even show up in Newt, Maria being the 'Definitive Final Girl' and surviving to the very end, but never getting to escape the Slaughters/Johnny. That isn't to say that she dies, but Sally is the first and only person to escape until Stretch if she is canon to this timeline now that Choptop is on his way) so idk, I hope you like what I've been thinking about I guess?

Nancy and Drayton both have several voice lines that refer to Maria being in the past tense. So does Johnny, but my theory here is that he is playing into this line of thought so they don’t realise that he is still keeping her.

I will source my way of hearing all of the voice lines at the end.

Starting with Nancy, she has several;

‘It didn’t have to be this way, you know? You just had to come looking for that floosy of yours, didn’t you?’

‘Your little friend had it coming. Looking at my Johnny that way- he’s a sweet boy!’

‘You ever hear the saying murder starts in the heart? … I think my Johnny liked that girl…’

The first two are obviously extremely defensive over Johnny and are meant to taunt the other Victims over Maria’s ‘death’. The last one, however, feels almost like a realisation. This line has confused me for a long time, because it sounds like two different once spliced together, but they are, in fact, connected. This is the only time that Nancy ever speaks about Maria in any other way than pure disgust and defensiveness. Another interesting thing about Nancy is that she does not hate her husbands. She murdered all three of them, none of them were able to give her a baby of her own, and yet she defends them from Sissy, she keeps them all in her basement man cave, and even when talking to Hands, she’s apologetic about Harold to him. She still holds a fondness for them, it seems, and I feel like maybe this is what makes her finally realise that Johnny actually, truly loves Maria. For Nancy, she loves people to death, and that type of love extends to Johnny, too. Sure, he’s still alive, and could easily kill her now, but she permanently scarred his face when he tried to leave her. I don’t believe that Nancy isn’t above murdering Johnny to keep him with her, and I think this admittance leads to her realising that Johnny actually did love Maria. Of course, she can’t say ‘love’, that’s a bit too far, but at the very least, she will acknowledge that he likes her, and these days, Johnny doesn’t seem to like anyone, not even her. It’s also interesting to note that she says this after losing sight of a victim she was chasing. She says herself that she hasn’t hunted like this in a while, it seems as if physically chasing people down to kill them is making her reminisce on her feelings about murder and love in a way.

But all of that to say, she believes Maria is dead. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she’s dead now, and maybe she plans to talk to Johnny about it later, maybe not apologise, but try and make it easier on him now that she’s realised just how much she meant to him.

Then we’ve got Cookie.

‘Look, I’m sorry about your friend… but… I’m afraid you done landed square dab in the shithouse!’

‘We didn’t have much choice! Couldn’t let Johnny spring no lovechild around here. It ain’t personal! Now get back here!’

There is obviously a lot less here, the former being Cook or Drayton’s more humble, car salesman type approach to everything, apologising sincerely that their friend had to die… but now so do they, so how sorry can he be, really?

The second is far more interesting. I’m still sort of working out the kinks with what I think on all this, but it implies not only that the whole family knew about Johnny’s feelings for Maria, but that there was a worry about something more than just his feelings. A genuine attachment, the possibility for a child.

Now, one thing I wanna throw in real quick is that a lot of people think Johnny assaulted Maria once he kidnapped her. And I personally don’t think that that is true. And it’s more than just ‘noooo not my pookie he would never!’, I feel as though Johnny’s feelings for Maria are beyond sexual, or beyond purely sexual. I’m not gonna get super into it because I wanna make a whole post about just their relationship, but in short, Johnny knows he’s hot shit. He knows women love him and men do too, and he uses that all the time to lure people to their deaths. Maybe he fucks them first, then kills them, who knows. But this is a man who is used to being sexualised and uses it to his advantage, like a reverse femme fatale, almost. A lot of his lines are sexually charged and he speaks seductively low at times, even flirting on the odd occasion. However, Maria is in love with Danny and is a sweet girl in the seventies. There is no way she’s heading off to knock boots with the pretty boy at the bar no matter how charming, persistent, helpful… always somehow exactly where she needs him to be… is. She’s kind, she’s sweet, she brings out the best in people, we know this about her. And when there’s no sex, when it’s not about fucking them and killing them… Johnny has no choice but to fall completely head over heels for her. It’s no surprise that the day she’s heading out of town, maybe to go back to see her boyfriend, that is when her car breaks down. Johnny’s oil stained gloves, the fact that he’s designed to look like he helps at a gas station, his friendship with Uncle Hands, the fact he lives in a junk yard? This man knows mechanics. He knows cars. And he is definitely not above tampering with an already busted old car to ensure it stops before she can get away from him. It’s just his luck that she happens to break down by his family’s land. All this to say, I don’t think Johnny assaults Maria once he has her. Not only because that would be a lot, like, in general, for this game to go from goofy cannibals to sexual assault by one of the game’s most beloved characters to one of the game’s most beloved characters, but because I don’t think Johnny is the type. He’s pretty and charming enough that people want him, he doesn’t have to take it, he earns it. And he wants Maria to give it to him, for him to earn it because she wants him. He likely spends his time down there with her trying to get her to fall for him and forget about Danny. He wants her to want him. Or at least, this is my personal interpretation.

Maybe she does begin to fall or maybe Drayton’s complete lack of any and all sexual knowledge just makes him think they’re already going to pound town, but he was worried about a baby. That’s something I wanna explore in the future, why he’s so worried about Johnny and Maria having a baby, but moving on; again, Drayton is seemingly fully convinced that Maria is dead.

For Johnny I wanna take his lines one at a time, but it is important to note that I think some of these lines are referring to someone else and not Maria, but also some of these are in present tense, he either slips up or sometimes on purpose mentions things that could hint to her being alive to the Victims.

‘You wanna know how your friend died!? … I can show you!’

‘Your little friend put up a better fight than this… come on! Make it interesting, will you!?”

Pure just bluffing to get them angry and scared. It could also be referring to Danny but more on that a different time.

‘That’s what I get for taking it easy on them. Time for them to join that little friend of theirs…’

‘You’re gonna look real nice next to that friend of yours…’

Again, if my belief that Danny not only went to Nancy’s a lot earlier than the others is true and that he has been dead for a good few days before the gang shows up, then this is absolutely about him, not Maria.

‘You kinda remind me of your little friend’

To Ana about Maria, obviously, and comes across as quite flirtatious. He’s figured out that not only does Maria have a sister (if she never told him), but that Ana has no intentions of leaving there without her. I interpret this as Johnny taunting her, making her his new priority to get rid of. I said he loved Maria, I never said he loved her in a healthy way, alight? This is The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, not the Notebook (never seen that movie)

‘You should have never came here looking for that girl!’

I don’t need to explain. Pure possessive Johnny in his raw form.

And finally, the infamous;

‘You know… I was actually kinda fond of that girl, I-I didn’t really wanna hurt her… but… family first, you know?’

Johnny is an agitator. Almost all of his lines are trying to fuck with the victims, playing with his food. Egging them on to hit him, teasing them about being too slow, the way he calls after them as he hunts them down, he wants to see them upset and charged, he wants a good fight, he wants to feel something. The main part of this line is just that, I think; he wants them to believe that even though he cared about Maria, he fucking killed her. He wants them to be angry, to fight him, to hurt him. The end is guilty. Incredibly guilty sounding, and I don’t think that’s out of a guilt for killing her, since… well, Maria is alive and kicking. But more a guilt about his family in general. ‘Family first, you know?’ he’s almost saying it so himself, as if that’s what he should think, what he should be doing. But he is actively betraying them and knows that once everything blows over, he’s going to keep on betraying them for every day he keeps Maria alive. And he also knows that even if he feels all of this guilt, he will do it anyway because he loves her, and he can’t let his family have her. She is the only person who is truly his, who represents what life could have given him. I have another analysis I made on TikTok that I’ll repost here soon, but it essentially goes like this; Johnny and Danny really aren’t too different. Scrappy orphans who are good with mechanics. Except Danny got to go to college, travel freely, meet the girl of his dreams, and Johnny is forced to be someone he doesn’t want to be. He isn’t not a killer, but he also could have not been a killer. Maria is everything he has not been allowed to have; naivety, kindness, softness. And now that he has her, and once everyone else is out of the way, he has no intentions of letting that go.

So he is pretending that she is dead. And for now, it is working. I have a feeling in the canon story of the game, the victims stumble upon her somewhere once they’ve already caused enough trouble for the family, and then all bets are off. Once they find out she’s still alive, it’s a new game for Johnny, a choice; does he kill her, make his mother proud and live the only life he knows because even if he leaves, he knows he can’t be any better? Or does he take her away and try, try to be a different man in the softness of her love?

Rush Week could be the result of either of those. Either he kills her, and becomes an even worse, even colder killer, now able to handle a situation like in the game completely on his own, or he takes her away to start a new life and just couldn’t stop the urges; the Bad Man needs to feed. He stays late after work or pretends he has a night shift and gets his fill on blood and chaos before stumbling home, washing it all off, and returning to Maria’s (definitely traumatised at this point from seeing her friends and sister murdered (don’t worry about Danny I’ve got thoughts on him shhh) in front of her and ‘rescued’ by Johnny) arms.

That was a lot... Please tell me what y'all think on this, again, a lot of my personal interpretation on a lot of things, but isn't that what art is for?

Sources for the voice lines:

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Johnny All Voice Lines (youtube.com)

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Black Nancy All Voice Lines - YouTube

Texas Chain Saw Massacre Game - Johnny All Voice Lines (youtube.com)

Promised I'd tag @bloodfeeder when I finished this so here ya go!! :)

#johnny slaughter #maria flores #black nancy #drayton slaughter #tcm game #tcm #rush week tcm #tcm rush week #the texas chain saw massacre game

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sundrop-writes · 9 months

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Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part One: The Psychic and The Tiger

Summary:

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship.

Nothing except maybe... your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn't possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn't possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right?

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 13,100

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst (on the basis of mutual angst but they’re both deep in denial), accidental invasion of someone’s privacy (by accidentally reading their mind), some light canon violence (practice sparring/practice fighting), the reader character is disabled - the reader character is 100% mute, the reader character suffered with tumors that were partially cured by Doctor Caulder’s serum, the reader character suffers from migraines and seizures due to remaining brain tumors, the reader character has the ability to read minds, the reader character uses ASL because she is mute, mentions of the reader character having insomnia/difficulty sleeping, mentions of Rachel having a one-sided crush on Gar, the reader is described to exercise a lot and be physically fit but I don’t allot that to a certain body type (I am not excluding her from being fat when I write this), in a lot of passages - the reader is implied to be fat actually, mentions of the reader masturbating, a wholesome family game night that doesn’t really belong in a smut fic lmao, somewhat graphic descriptions of vomit (from illness) (it only occurs in one short section of the fic), passing mentions of disordered eating - but not due to poor body image or mental illness more in the form of restrictions on ‘junk food’ and not eating properly at meal times, dream sequences involving sex - hair-pulling, groping, biting, making out, (implied) shower sex, dirty talk, praise kink, penis in vagina sex (unprotected), mind fucking (but not in the way that you think - sharing sex with someone while having a sexual connection). All of the smut/sex in this chapter is of the day dream variety, but it is still described in graphic/detailed ways. I believe that is everything.

A/N: I find it so ironic that this was freshly reposted on my other blog when I got shadowbanned. So let's try this again, shall we? At least this is beautifully edited and updated for your eyes. I think this is literally the perfect version of this fic with the new additional scenes. So if this is your first time reading it, please enjoy, and if you have read it before, I hope you can enjoy it again. And because I am back in my Titans era again - definitely stick around for more of my Gar bullshit. I love him with my whole heart, and there will definitely be more Gar stuff from me.

...

Mind reading is most definitely not what people think it is.

It’s not at all how movies portray it to be. And it’s definitely not how you imagine it to be when you think about having the ability to access someone’s private thoughts.

To this day, you still remembered when Gar showed you the British television show Misfits, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way the character’s mind reading power was portrayed.

To most of Hollywood, it’s as if a person’s thoughts were a simple string of words laid out in their head, a simple script being read in their voice. As if you can accidentally overhear someone thinking about a certain topic, like one overhears a conversation.

In reality, it was vastly different for you.

There was no easy way to explain it, to describe the way it felt to enter the complex vastness of the human mind, but you often tried to put it into words. For one, you were thankful that it took you concentration and intent to use your powers. You never accidentally overheard someone’s thoughts the way a person can hear voices or loud music, or a television in the next room. It kept you from a lot of awkward situations. And most importantly to you, it kept you from barreling into a person’s most private space - the sacred stronghold of their mind - unless it was deemed completely necessary.

From what you had realized, it required you making eye contact with the person in order for you to enter someone’s mind.

“Ah yes. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all.” Doctor Caulder had remarked when he had discovered this about your powers.

Ironic. Thematic, actually, considering that his serum had cured you of a physical blindness. One caused by a brain tumor that any doctor was too afraid to operate on in order to remove. Doctor Caulder liked to credit himself and his serum with giving you the gift of ‘a greater sight’, one that allowed you to peer deep inside others. A gift that he said allowed you to help people.

To you, though, more often than not, it just felt like invading people’s privacy. And that was something you definitely didn’t enjoy - whether it was ‘helping’ people or not.

Something you had learned during the minimal amount of time you had used your powers: people can be divided into two types of thinkers. That you found out very quickly.

The first type are people whose thoughts come in the form of rich, visual landscapes. People who show off their thoughts almost purely with visuals, imagining things that might happen, remembering things that already have in vivid detail. Those people are typically the easiest to navigate, in your experience - but their memories can be the most painful and vivid if you go too deep.

The second type are people whose thoughts come more in the form of narration - a voice inside their head speaking about their intentions or the information pumping through their mind.

Although, unlike what most people would think, that voice is not usually their own.

Most times it is the voice of a mentor or parent, someone who guided and built their thoughts from childhood, someone whose voice sounds firm and thoughtful in their mind. Or sometimes it could even be the voice of a TV character or a radio host, because listening to that piece of media so often caused that voice to clone in their mind and become stuck there accidentally.

Entering the mind of someone like this can be tricky - their thoughts are difficult to navigate, because they are hard to grasp and become tangible.

Occasionally you come across someone with a more unique mental landscape, someone in emotional turmoil or someone who simply never had a linear train of thought to begin with. Entering the mind of someone like this is more like a thousand screaming voices and flashing lights, all at once. Incredibly difficult to decipher, a sensory overload to take in.

But those are only surface level thoughts. Your powers gave you the ability to dive deep into the cave of someone’s mind, to explore the winding halls of their memories, their subconscious. To feel their emotions, to help them work through their traumas, their pain. If they allowed you to delve that deep. Only if they invited you in.

More often than not, you simply preferred to stay the hell out of other people’s minds. To simply give them the privacy they were owed.

Which is why when it happened - when your powers started slipping out of your control on that stupid fucking day - you hated it more than you could be proud of it. Even if the information you discovered cemented a dream into reality that you’d been having since the day you met Garfield Logan.

It had been a Saturday morning like any other.

Well, one as routine as to be expected when living the Titans lifestyle.

Moving into the Tower was actually nice to attempt to put down roots considering what you had been through over the past year or so. When you originally uprooted your life in Covington, Ohio to follow Gar, you certainly hadn’t expected the wild path he would lead you on. A path that would lead to you getting kidnapped by a doomsday cult and tortured, being lured to a house in the middle of nowhere and mentally tortured some more. All in all leaving that house with absolutely no sense of direction in your life, mentally scarred and broken.

But you never blamed Gar for getting you into trouble. In fact, you were glad to be there to support him through everything that had happened.

Gar was your best friend, your person, and you would have followed him anywhere.

So naturally when he moved into the newly reopened Titans Tower, so did you. Dick didn’t fully understand the extent of your abilities, because in order to show people, you had to violate their privacy, and it wasn’t always something you were keen on doing. He simply trusted Gar at his word that you were more than capable of becoming a Titan.

That blind faith Dick had put in you, backed by Gar’s word, that heavily motivated you to train hard in all other areas to ensure that Dick knew Gar could be trusted. To pull through on that promise and show your worth.

That’s why you were up so early that morning. You liked to get a head start on things. You liked to be up before everyone else to prove that you were working hard on your training, working hard on studying the things that Dick wanted you to know.

At least, those were the excuses you had prepared if anyone asked. Or the things you told yourself to escape the reality of it - to say that you were using your time wisely these days.

Truthfully, you were never very good with sleeping.

Between your chronic headaches, pain that left intense aches down your neck and spine, and the awful nausea that it plagued you with, and the strange dreams that your powers seemed to be paired with, you didn’t often get much sleep.

You were still figuring out how your incredibly strange dreams coincided with your ability to breach other people’s private thoughts. But you guessed that it was simply part of that whole ‘greater sight’ thing. Especially considering that those dreams seemed to depict the future in some way.

You often found your sleep disrupted by these dreams - visions of death or violence or even strange faces you had never seen before. And more often than not, you decided to pursue more productive activities than tossing and turning in your sheets until your alarm rang.

Strangely enough, one of the very first dreams you’d had after being injected with the serum had been a strange setting where you were garbed in a giant, poofy white wedding dress, getting married to a large green tiger who wore a black bowtie among his bright green fur. At the time, you had genuinely convinced yourself that it was just a strange fever dream caused by the serum. Up until you’d met Gar, and something in the pit of your stomach told you that he was the green tiger in question.

But you had never told anyone about that dream, and probably never would.

It’s something that was very far from your mind as you enjoyed breakfast early that morning.

Dick usually let everyone ‘sleep in’ on Saturdays - as much as Jason complained that sleeping until eight was not a luxury, he and the others usually still took advantage of it. But you were up long before sunrise on that day.

You were sitting at the kitchen island, absentmindedly snacking on some dry cereal with your journal open in front of you. You were sketching a picture of something you had seen in one of your dreams. A girl with waves of silver hair and eyepatch that you didn’t recognize, but had a gut feeling was important somehow. You glanced up at the sound of footsteps coming into the room, and found yourself surprised but happy to see that it was Gar.

He was clearly still half asleep, his eyes barely open. He wore plaid pajama pants and a green pullover hoodie, hair still adorably messy and uncombed. He looked so utterly soft and cuddly, something that made those undeniable butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach.

When you looked over at the clock attached to the stove, it was barely five-thirty in the morning. The sun was just kissing the sky orange to your right, casting a warm orange glow across the entire room through the many tall windows. You were almost shocked that anything other than Dick’s fist hammering on Gar’s door had gotten him out of bed this early.

“Morning.” He grunted at you as he tiredly stumbled toward the fridge. He opened it with haste and grabbed the carton of orange juice.

Of course. He wanted a snack.

He uncapped it and gulped it with enthusiasm, not bothering to get a glass or even close the refrigerator door. The sharp light of the halogen bulbs and the cool air pouring from the appliance almost hurt you, your overly sensitive eyes and skin picking up on the sensations more potently in the soft morning light of the room.

Gar turned around, the carton still poised to his lips. He took large swigs that made his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and he kicked the fridge door shut behind him as he finally put the carton down on the counter, exhaling a large, nasty burp. He looked at you with a sleepy smile, almost making you mad with how cute he could be after doing something like that.

You were about to comment on the disgusting nature of his habits when something strange happened - something that had never happened to you before.

You locked eyes with him, and with absolutely no intention or purpose on your part, you were struck with a flood of his thoughts. A vision, a vivid painting brought to life by his imagination.

It was a distinct, full picture of the two of you.

He had you pressed against the kitchen island, his hands commanding and warm on your hips, like they belonged there. His body was firm against yours, tightly pressed against you as if trying to spite the clothes you wore - and his lips were on yours in a demanding kiss. It was entirely passionate, downright hungry. He left gentle nips on your bottom lip as you ran your hands through his sleep mussed hair, your gentle tug on it forcing a moan from his throat, his tongue pressing into-

A gentle gasp coiled in the back of your throat as you were shocked back to reality, finally able to force yourself out of his mind.

You had no idea how the accidental violation had even occurred in the first place, but to stay there and indulge in it would only be continuing to do him a great injustice. When you dared to let your eyes flicker back to his face, he was staring at you with a strange look - his brow slightly furrowed, worry dancing across his mouth. Clearly he wanted to ask you what was wrong. You hadn’t greeted him or said ‘good morning’ in any sort of fashion yet, and now you were just sitting there, frozen on your stool, every inch of your body tight as ice at what you had just seen.

“Did you want some?” He asked, picking up the orange juice carton and holding it out to you.

It was adorably ignorant of him - to think the strange look that had struck your face was over some dispute about orange juice. That you were annoyed because he wasn’t sharing well enough. You simply shook your head in the negative and began gathering your things as quickly as possible, trapping your pencil between the pages of your notebook as you scrambled to get out of his sight.

You needed time to think.

You had no idea what the hell had just happened, but you sure wanted to avoid him until you could figure it out. Until you could get it under control. You raised your hand and signed something about showering to him. But your movements were quick and sloppy and you didn’t look at him for confirmation that he understood before you barreled out of the room. You were too eager to hide in your bedroom until you were absolutely forced to see him again.

…

It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it before.

You had thought about it a lot, actually.

But he had been far too good a friend for you to ever risk losing that friendship over your stupid lust - over some stupid schoolgirl crush that you were sure would go away. And the whole uprooting your life and having a demon from another dimension invade your mind and show you the darkest parts of yourself thing definitely made you put your crush for Gar on the back burner.

It’s not like you were blind to how entirely perfect Gar was. He was handsome, he was cute - so entirely adorable in his boyish looks and his sweet smile. So cute and excitable, with the way he could be bashful, yet confident at the same time when spurting out random facts about video games or going on and on about seemingly any subject that excited him. And you quickly realized that he had more than boyish charms the first time you had seen him shirtless - accidentally caught him changing when living together at Caulder House - and you saw his gorgeous physique on display.

You had been smitten with Gar since the very first moment you had met him, actually.

Back then your crush was something that should have been glaringly obvious to him. You could barely maintain eye contact with him within the first few days of knowing him, you were always so flustered around him. That, on top of the playful teasing of your housemates, wondering when the two of you were finally going to admit that unspoken thing you had going on.

But when the two of you left Caulder House and set out to explore the world - it had remained unspoken.

If Gar had known about your crush on him, it had never affected the way he treated you. Your friendship grew so strong so quickly, and you never wanted to lose that. You never wanted to lose him. So you settled for platonic couch cuddles and late night multiplayer and him letting you sleep in his bed whenever you got a bad migraine.

And then Rachel came along. And you saw the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. And even though you thought you had probably lost any chance of ever being with him the way you had dreamed of - you still packed your bag and squeezed into the back of Dick’s Porsche with him when he begged for you to come.

Naturally, you were spinning at the revelation that apparently, he had thought of you the same way you thought of him. You almost wanted to convince yourself that it had been a mistake. That it had just been a fantasy you had cooked up inside your own mind. It’s not like you didn’t have many, many fantasies about Gar running around in there.

But no. You knew distinctly what it felt like to use your powers. Being inside the private cave of someone else’s mind - even touching the surface of its depths is a unique experience. And doing it by mistake feels no different than doing it on purpose.

You had no clue what had caused your powers to go off by mistake, but you definitely knew the feeling of using them.

Those were most definitely Gar’s thoughts that had invaded your mind. Gar’s thoughts about kissing you, handling you with such intense passion. Your skin startled to crawl with a unique heat as you remembered the vision so vividly. You heaved a great sigh as you flung yourself backward onto your bed. You gazed over at the clock. It was almost time for training. You wouldn’t be able to hide from Gar for much longer.

…

You were just glad that training that day consisted of blindfolded sparring.

Dick seemed very surprised when you volunteered to go first after he introduced the unorthodox exercise. But to you, it was a simple logic that had you eagerly chopping at the bit to get a piece of cloth covering your eyes. If you were blindfolded, there was no chance of you catching Gar’s eye. Or anyone’s for that matter.

You had no idea if your powers were simply spinning out of control, or if it was an unintentional emotional reaction triggered by Gar’s presence. You weren’t quite sure which was worse. If it was a case of your powers going rogue, growing stronger somehow, then perhaps you’d have to start wearing a blindfold all the time.

If it was specifically something with Gar, then… maybe that was worse. It probably signaled something deeper with you. Your feelings for him clawing at your unconscious, begging to be spilled to the open air. Which you really weren’t eager to let happen anytime soon.

You were almost relieved when Dick paired you off with Jason, saying that your skill set ‘complimented’ his. He explained that he wanted the two of you to try the blindfolding exercise together while he quizzed Gar and Rachel on logic puzzles in the other room. At least Gar would be required to be away from you for a while, and you’d have a very slim chance of catching Jason’s eyes. You didn’t want to know what kind of things he was thinking, what secrets he had. Definitely not.

As the two of you sparred, you were entirely unfocused, your thoughts swimming.

Jason caught you off guard, and easily swept you off your feet completely as he struck you hard in the ankle with the wooden practice sword he was wielding. You grunted gently as you hit the floor, and rolled over on your back, defeated. You reluctantly removed the blindfold as you caught your breath, and saw him standing above you, offering you a hand to help you up. As you blinked against the sharp light meeting your eyes, you accidentally caught his gaze, making direct, certain eye contact with him.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. You breathed a small sigh of relief.

“You okay, Fancy Hands?” He asked, leaning down so his helping hand was closer to you.

It was a nickname he had affectionately given you the first time he’d seen you use ASL when you had met - back at the safe house in Chicago. Back when Jason had used Dick’s tracker to find him and you all met the surprise second Robin for the first time.

At the time, you had been surprised to find out that Jason actually knew quite a few signs because one of the kids he’d been in foster care with had been deaf. You had explained to him that your hearing was perfectly fine - your mutism was because of a surgery during your childhood that had removed a tumor from your throat and had left your vocal cords damaged. It was something that had occurred long before your life had become about powers, a green tiger, and one too many Robins to count.

In the present, you were simply thankful that your powers didn’t seem to act up with him.

In response to his question, you nodded, taking his hand.

He helped you to your feet quickly, and you found your own practice sword where it had fallen. You then replaced your blindfold once again. Though it was slightly troubling to know that this sudden shift in your powers only seemed to be triggered by Gar - that knowledge did help you focus a bit more on the lesson.

As you focused, you blocked two of Jason’s hits with your sword and landed a swift, sharp hit somewhere on him.

“Ow!” He whined. “Take it easy, Fancy Hands, this is only supposed to be practice.”

You giggled, smiling to yourself.

…

It had been a few days since then.

And you had been strategically avoiding Gar.

At least, avoiding him as much as you could without arousing major suspicion. It was a pretty large living space, and with only four other people in it, it was next to impossible to come up with excuses to avoid him entirely. He was your best friend, after all. If you just quit spending time with him entirely, that would cause him to ask way too many questions. And you definitely couldn’t give him the answers to any of those questions.

You had made a hard agreement shortly after you had met him - you promised that you would never use your powers on him without his explicit permission unless it was some kind of emergency. A life or death situation. You both easily agree that his brain was his brain, and like every other person on the planet, it was his private sanctuary. He was entitled to that privacy. He deserved that much. Everyone did. That’s why you always tried to avoid using your powers at all costs.

You didn’t want to explain to him that you had accidentally broken your promise - that you had seen some of his most private thoughts. On top of that, it was like a giant tease toward your feelings for him. Feelings you shouldn’t even have for your best friend.

So in the meantime, while you were trying to figure out how to reign in your powers and stop from having another freak accident like the one in the kitchen, you stuck to what you considered ‘safe’ activities with Gar. Things the two of you could do together that would absolutely minimize eye contact between the two of you.

Things like: studying Dick’s allotted mandatory reading material, where your eyes would be safely glued to the pages of a book. Playing video games with him, where your eyes would have to be on the screen. And you always made sure you sat next to him at the dinner table, where your eyes would be parallel to his, or stayed safely on your dinner plate.

You had been doing just fine until another accident happened.

Of course, it happened because of factors you hadn’t taken into account.

You had been up late in the training room, something you did often. Because of your hesitance to use your powers, you liked to exercise often to be in peak physical condition in case fighting was ever necessary on your behalf.

On top of that, you and Jason had somewhat of a silent rivalry going. You had kicked his ass quite a few times during training sessions, and though he would never say it, he liked how you kept him on his toes. So now you were always trying to quietly outdo the other. Something you were caught up in thinking about as you floated down the hallway toward the bathroom on light feet, your toiletry bag in hand, hoping Jason hadn’t beaten you to the shower.

What you were not at all expecting, was to collide heavily with a half-naked, still wet from the shower Gar. With neither of you paying attention to where you were going, you smacked into each other at a fair speed, him waltzing out of the bathroom and straight into you. Your toiletry bag went flying, and with the zipper undone, your products scattered out across the floor.

“Shit, oh my god, I’m sorry.” Gar quickly apologized, being the entirely sweet person that he was.

You both leaned down in unison and began picking up the mess of bottles and other products. You forced yourself to keep your eyes steadily on the floor, not daring to look toward his face, no matter how much you missed his sweet smile and those big brown eyes looking back at you. You couldn’t risk it, not if you would make that unintentional invasion of his privacy once again.

Gar’s chest twinged with sour notes as you avoided his gaze. Usually, you were always so pleased to be around him. He thought that he had done something wrong. Something grander that he had somehow failed to perceive.

“I guess I better watch where I’m going, huh?” He chuckled, trying to make conversation with you.

Truthfully, he just wanted a reaction out of you - he needed to see your smile like wilting plants needed rain. He worried that he wasn’t going to get it anytime soon.

You kept your eyes glued to the floor, making it an exercise in self-discipline.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his dripping wet leg and the edge of the fluffy, white towel he was wearing. You knew he was shirtless and it was far too tempting to look.

When your hand went for the bottle of conditioner at the same time as his - you accidentally brushed over each other. You felt a unique heat creeping up your spine. Like magnets, like a plant growing toward the sun - like any natural reaction that self discipline can’t be stopped - your eyes flickered up and met with his.

And once again, you became trapped in the depths of his dangerous gaze.

You were sucked into his mind before you could stop it. In a millisecond, all of your senses became consumed by another vision of his imagining.

You were surprised to find that it was a scene of you, alone.

It was a way you had never viewed yourself before; getting the chance to see yourself through someone else’s eyes, even if it was only imaginary, was quite a strange sensation.

The scene was an outside perspective of yourself showering, as if someone was staring at you through the clear glass door. You had to admit that it was positively erotic. The way the bubbles cascaded down your skin, the way your hands rubbed your flesh as you washed yourself. The dream you stopped the smooth lathering partway to grab and grope at your thighs and breasts, moaning lightly under your breath as you did so.

You had never thought you could be so… dreamy.

You didn’t remain alone in the shower for long, though.

As if out of nowhere, Gar appeared behind you, his naked body almost eclipsed by yours, save for his delightful broad shoulders and his head as it poked out around yours. You had never seen a more appealing sight in your life. His gorgeous face with wet hair stuck to his forehead, the grin that came across his cheeks as he looked at you. His arms came to wrap around your waist as he gently brushed a loofa across your stomach. He began kissing along your shoulder, licking his tongue across your neck and boldly moaning at the taste of your skin-

You forcefully pulled yourself from the vision. As you rocketed back to reality, it was like having ice water thrown down your back.

The surrounding warmth of the imaginary shower was gone, and you were once again in the cool night air of the hallway. You gazed across Gar’s face, taking in the wide-eyed, clueless expression he wore. He almost looked worried for you, wondering why you had spaced out like that. He had absolutely no idea of what you had just seen.

You snatched the bottle of conditioner out from underneath his palm and shoved it into your bag. Miraculously, you stood up on shaking legs, turning around and going to escape back to your room.

“Didn’t you wanna use the shower?” Gar called after you quietly.

Right. Your shower.

You whipped back around, nodding at him in passing - but you kept your eyes locked on the floor as you sped by him. You practically ran into the bathroom before he could make any comments about your strange behavior.

You shut and locked the bathroom door behind you, sealing yourself in the smothering heat and steam that he had left behind. When you glanced over at the mirror and saw that he had been drawing funny faces in the condensation - something that was so terribly Gar it almost hurt - you felt even worse about violating his privacy. Even if it was an accident.

You tried to let the guilt go as you scrubbed away at your body. You told yourself that it wasn’t your fault.

Eventually, you found yourself only reminded of his steamy fantasy as the bubbles ran across your skin. You had never felt sexier, never felt more attractive in your entire life than you did in his eyes, in his imagining of you completely naked.

The biggest reason that it boosted your confidence? His mental image of you was so strangely honest.

In his dream, you weren’t cartoonish or overdone by his lust. Even though he had never seen you naked before, your breasts weren’t ballooned out or perkier than they should have been. There wasn’t a great amount of fat trimmed from your body, as if he desired you to be thinner than you were. It was so gratefully you - but it was a hot, sexy, fantastic version of you. A version that he apparently wanted to have shower sex with.

The very thought had you pulling down the extendable shower head and holding it between your legs, getting off to the way Gar thought of you. It was perfect - until Jason’s banging on the bathroom door, complaining that you had been taking too long, interrupted you.

…

Gar’s hands were all over you.

It left you absolutely breathless, giving you no room to escape the pleasure he was delivering. He had turned you into a quivering, moaning mess. His mouth was between your legs, on your neck, on your breasts. His perfect lips were hot on your own, trying to trap the indescribable sounds you were making for him. You were completely pliant to him, to his needs, a melted puddle of want under his ever giving hands.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned into your ear, finally lining his cock up to your throbbing entrance, finally ready to give you what you needed most. “I can’t wait to watch you cum on my cock.”

His dirty words only fueled the every growing desire that was mounting inside you. You keened out pathetically as he finally pushed inside you. His cock ignited you with a sharp electricity, filling you up so perfectly.

You were shocked out of your strangely wonderful dream by a pounding on your bedroom door - Dick coming to wake you up for training.

“Morning jog in twenty minutes.” He called out through your door, making you groan into your pillow.

There wouldn’t even be enough time to relieve the hard painful throbbing between your legs before you had to get out of bed.

As much as you loved the man who had so graciously taken you in and now acted as such an amazing mentor to you - you really hated Dick Grasyon sometimes.

…

Gar had been plaguing your dreams since you had discovered the kind of thoughts he had been having about you. Of course, he had been the subject of plenty of your daydreams - but this was so much stronger. He had invaded your subconscious and made a home for himself there.

More intense than any fantasy you had ever cooked up yourself, every single time you closed your eyes - he was there. You could feel his lips on your skin, could feel his hands on you. It had become more difficult than usual to sleep, and when you did, you woke up with a light sheen of sweat covering you, your pussy soaked and throbbing, absolutely needy for him.

You knew it would be wrong. It would absolutely be wrong if you acted on your feelings for Gar now, well-informed that he was attracted to you too. That he might want the same things as you. It was so undoubtedly wrong to take information you had discovered with your powers and use it for personal gain like this.

But, on the other hand, you knew the only reason he was plaguing your mind so much - you had some hope that he felt the same way. That he returned your big, scary feelings.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t know for certain if he felt exactly the same way that you did.

Yes, you had seen him imagining kissing you, imagining doing sexual things with you. You knew that he thought of you in an erotic way. But that only meant he wanted to fuck you.

It certainly didn’t mean that he wanted to be seriously romantic with you or that he wanted a serious relationship. He also could have sexual fantasies about Jason swimming around in his head - ones that you hadn’t seen.

Nothing about what you had seen said he was in love with you. So if you told him about your feelings for him unprompted, not only would you make yourself look like an idiot, but you would eventually have to tell him about the things you had accidentally seen. He would never forgive you for violating his privacy, and you would be heartbroken.

Sometimes you really wished you could just be normal.

…

“Well, this is fucking stupid.” Jason griped, throwing himself down onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, we all know that, Jason.” Rachel quickly agreed. “But if Dick comes back and doesn’t see us having Happy Bonding Board Game Fun Times, then he’ll make us run laps or balance plates on our heads again.”

She proposed an easy argument in favor of shutting up and co-operating as she unpacked the many pieces of the board game that Dick had gotten you guys - Trivial Pursuit. Something ‘fun and educational’, he had explained.

You laughed under your breath at Rachel’s comment.

Dick wanted the four of you to spend more time ‘bonding as a team’. He had explained that one of the reasons the Old Titans worked so well together out in the field was because they did casual, friendly activities together as well as training together. He wanted this new team to be as strong as the old one.

You thought maybe this sporadic encouragement of bonding had been brought on by how you had been acting. With your dreams growing more intense each night, you had been increasingly turning down Gar’s invitations to play video games together, or study together. You had even started making up excuses to take dinner into your room or skipping dinner altogether in favor of eating bowls of cereal when no one else was around. And you knew Dick had noticed.

But you also knew that you weren’t the only one to blame.

The whole ‘team bonding’ thing could have easily been prompted by Jason’s increased agitation with the living situation, his eagerness to leave you all behind and get back to Gotham. And the fact that Rachel, like you, now rarely came out of her room.

This always left Gar in a strange situation where he was desperate for friendship but everyone pulled away from him, everyone wanted to isolate themselves but him. You felt increasingly guilty about it. You felt so bad for abandoning your best friend. But every time you looked at him, even without making that dangerous eye contact, heat began to rise in your face as flashes of his fantasies or your wicked dreams began popping into your mind.

But now you were all being forced to spend time together. You couldn’t avoid it so easily. You knew there was no excuse you could cook up to get out of it. And like Rachel had said, you didn’t want yourself and the others to be plagued with some dumb punishment like running laps if you could just be playing a board game instead.

All four of you were sitting around the small coffee table in the living room area of the open concept space, the fire pit sending warm waves over you as the dark sky went on boundlessly through the tall windows. The lamp above your heads and the city lights cast a warm glow over everything, creating a beautifully pleasant atmosphere that made it easy to ignore your problems.

Dick was gone out on some ‘errands’, and made you all promise to play the game and spend some time together while he was gone.

“I like board games.” Gar smiled, picking up one of the pieces and inspecting it. “Of course, I do prefer multiplayer online. But some old fashioned tabletop is good to throw in there every once and a while.”

You smiled at Gar’s comment. He was so wonderfully nerdy. Undeniably one of the reasons you had developed feelings for him in the first place.

You were seated beside him on the plush rug, crossed legged, your knee just barely brushing against his. It felt strangely normal to be like this, pretending like nothing odd had happened between you in the weeks past. You were enjoying the feeling, indulging in actually getting to hang out with your best friend without worrying about romantic feelings or any of the other bullshit.

“Could you not be a total dork for like… five seconds?” Rachel quipped, raising an eyebrow at Gar.

Gar threw the game piece at her, and it bounced off her chest before it disappeared somewhere on the floor, making her look for it. You laughed.

“Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.” Jason groaned into a small throw pillow from the couch that he had pulled into his face. “I don’t want to play this dumb fucking game.”

‘Are you afraid you’ll lose?’ You signed.

Seeing as Rachel didn’t know that much ASL, and Jason wasn’t even looking at you, his face still covered by the pillow in his little tantrum, Gar interpreted for you.

“Are you afraid you’re gonna lose?” He announced to the room in a tone ripe with sass.

Rachel smiled at the challenge, looking over her shoulder to see how Jason would react.

“What? No.” Jason snapped, sitting up and tossing the pillow behind him. “It’s just a stupid game. I’m sure there are far better things I could be spending my time doing.”

‘Then play.’ You signed, making steady eye contact with Jason, challenging him.

“Then why don’t you just play?” Gar spoke, adding a few more words. Not that you minded. You thought it was generous and sweet that he had rushed to learn ASL in the first few months of knowing you just so he could communicate better with you. It was one of the things that had made you fall for him so hard, so fast.

Jason’s face was struck with the realization that you were the one challenging him, not Gar. His eyes flickered between the three of you, and then he settled into a seat on the carpet beside Rachel.

“Okay fine, how do you even play this stupid game?” He grumbled quietly, snatching the instructions from Rachel.

‘Why don’t we make things interesting?’ You said, knowing you could aggravate Jason’s competitive side even more.

And in the back of your mind, you were thinking about the fact that if you were too focused on winning the game, you wouldn’t be too focused on Gar. You wouldn’t be thinking about the fact that he had shifted closer to you, and his thigh was pressing more into yours, spreading a deadly heat across your skin under your clothes.

“What, like a bet?” Gar responded to your words rather than translating them to everyone else, and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Yes, a bet.’ You quickly clarified.

“Are you challengin’ me, Fancy Hands?” Jason posed. “You wanna lose even more disastrously to The One and Only Robin?” He added on, his words dripping with that usual air of cockiness.

‘Second Robin.’ You reminded him.

Jason knew enough sign language to know these symbols. Especially the one you had specifically taught him for the bird with the same name as his caped alias. So even though Gar failed to translate these words for fear of starting a genuine fight, Jason responded to your feisty words.

“The One and Only Robin, now that Dickhead Grayson is retired.” He proudly corrected you.

‘Whatever.’ You shrugged it off. ‘We’ll see if any Robin can win the board game he calls so stupid.’

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason chided. “What kind of bet did you have in mind?”

‘Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.’ You explained.

“Loser does all the dishes for two weeks.” Gar explained it to him.

“Loser between the three of you.” Rachel corrected with a smirk.

“Loser between the two of them. I’m just the messenger.” Gar quickly told her.

“The winner gets the last Twinkie from my stash.” Jason added, upping the ante of the bet.

Gar and Rachel’s eyes practically began glowing (especially considering what their powers made them capable of) at the mere mention of junk food.

Dick had pretty much banned any food that was considered unhealthy. He said it wasn’t good for training. ‘Why put garbage in the tank? It doesn’t make the engine run properly’ he always nagged.

The few times you and Rachel had been ‘caught’ coming back from a 7/11 with a bag full of goodies, he had made you read the labels out loud to ‘justify what you were putting inside your bodies’, and blah, blah, blah. So you liked eating sugar? Big deal.

Eventually all his nagging just made you guys give up, or eat your doses of junk food outside the house (during the rare times he actually let you guys out). But of course, it just made Jason more determined to sneak things in. And of course, with his delinquent mindset, he had come up with a perfect system that involved wearing an overly large coat and keeping food in a false bottom drawer he had created in his room. He had started making you guys do him favors in exchange for snacks, but a lot of the time, it was worth it.

“Ante up!” Rachel ordered. “Twinkie on the table!” She smacked her palm flat on the table, glaring Jason down until he rose from his seat to go retrieve the desired item.

…

You were enjoying game night far more than you thought you would.

Everyone was, actually. Rousing laughter and chatter filled the room as you all took your turns, argued over the rules, and raced to see who would win. Your mind was distracted far from any sexual thoughts of Gar. You weren’t focused on the things you had accidentally seen when mistakenly crossing the threshold of his mind, or the heated dreams it had caused you to have. For the first time in weeks, a great worry had been lifted from your shoulders.

Which was probably why it happened. You were probably a fool to think you were safe - to think this new power you had discovered couldn’t act up just because you were sitting around with your friends, innocently playing a board game.

Gar turned to you, picking up one of the trivia cards to ask you your question as your turn came around.

“Alright, science.” He announced. “How many bones are in the human body? Is it A: 206, B: 104, C: 198, or D: 236?”

When he had finished reading it, his eyes flickered up from the card in his hand and met with yours. You were damned by fate as you were once again drawn into the depths of a hot, wicked fantasy of his creation.

It was another third-person perspective of him and yourself, a portrait of perfect intimacy.

In the wicked fantasy, he had you pinned against a wall, both of you completely naked - his sweet, bare flesh pinning your heated body against the surface. His breath mingled with yours as pressed kisses into your mouth, clearly torn between claiming your lips over and over again or the simple act of breathing. He wasn’t sure which was more precious - the taste of your mouth under his or the bits of air he needed to survive.

He had one of your legs hitched up around his hip, your knee up around his back, giving the perfect view as he shoved his cock inside of you. He was so large - hot and heavy, splitting you open with his monster cock without hesitation as your needy cunt dripped around him. He let out a grunt as the wet slide of your pussy enveloped him, loving the most tender touch of your warmth on his aching cock.

The fat around your hip bloomed through his fingers as he held you steady, hammering his hips against yours. It created a wet smacking sound that sent electricity shooting through you, the fantasy so palpable that you could almost feel the thickness of his cock tearing you open - you could almost feel the heft of those mighty nine inches dragging against your deadly hot inner walls.

You admired the glisten of sweat on his rippling back muscles, the hot grunts that poured from his swollen lips. You loved the sight of your nails digging into his skin as you gripped his shoulders, desperate to hold on.

“You’re so good for me.” He murmured against your panting lips, his voice deep, absolutely thick with sex. “I love this pussy so fucking much.”

“Y/N?”

This time it took Gar’s voice echoing in your ears in the real world to pull you out of the vivid daydream.

“You okay?” The pure sweetness of his tone, the quiet caring had you quaking almost as much as the heft of his daydream cock.

Your pussy throbbed hard between your thighs and your face was burning hot. You could feel the beginnings of sweat glistening on your forehead, and you hoped that your physical reaction to what you had seen wasn’t too obvious in the dull lighting of the room. Perhaps you could blame it on sitting too close to the fireplace.

You dared to let your eyes have a once-over of Gar’s face, hoping not to be pulled back into the stupor once again. He was looking at you with that familiar wide-eyed, positively clueless expression. He was sitting there thinking about fucking you up against a wall and he had absolutely no clue that you knew.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rachel scoffed. “It’s a pretty softball question.”

Fuck, right. You were supposed to be playing trivia.

You had genuinely no idea what the question had been, and wouldn’t dare ask Gar to repeat it for fear of giving yourself away, so you simply picked an answer out of the blue.

‘C.’ You gestured the sign for the single letter, hoping it was correct if it was supposed to be such a ‘softball’ of a question.

“Wrong.” Gar sighed, placing the card in the used pile.

“I thought it was 207?” Jason wondered out loud, sounding genuinely confused. “Oh wait, that’s the joke answer.”

“Ew.” Rachel cringed. “Don’t be gross.”

“Hey,” Gar placed a gentle hand on your forearm where it was resting on the table, capturing your attention. “Are you okay? You really zoned out for a minute there.”

Oh god. He was being so sweet and caring. You almost hated it, because you knew you couldn’t tell him what you had truly seen. You couldn’t explain what was truly wrong with you.

‘I’m fine.’ You assured him, pulling your hand naturally out of his warm grasp to communicate. You hoped he wouldn’t notice that you were pulling away from him to avoid the heat of his touch and refusing to look at his face.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Gar.” Rachel smiled.

You nodded.

“Some people’s brains just get fried when they’re asked to be smart on the spot.” She added on - this being sass that was clearly directed at Jason. It made you laugh.

It then moved on to someone else’s turn, and you were glad the focus had shifted away from you.

…

Just like everything you had touched lately, game night turned into a disaster.

Jason realized he wasn’t going to win after he lost one too many pop culture questions. Ones based on movies and shows that he hadn’t even seen. And he claimed it ‘wasn’t even fair’ because he was being questioned based on material that he had no knowledge of.

When Gar and Rachel told him that was just how the game worked, he proceeded to pull the ‘I was poor growing up, of course I didn’t watch those movies cause I didn’t have a TV’ card. When that got him no sympathy, he flipped the table. A screaming match broke out between the three of them, and everyone stormed off to their separate corners, leaving you to clean up the pieces. Quite literally.

You managed to find and pick up all the game pieces in the shaggy area rug, and you put them back inside the game box. You figured they might be useful in the future in case everyone made up and did want to play the game again sometime. One of the last things left on the carpet was the crushed Twinkie, which had been smashed by the weight of the coffee table when Jason flipped it over.

It was still nicely inside its plastic packaging, but it had become a crumbled mixture of cake pieces and artificial frosting, rather than the golden log it once was. You shoved it in your pocket - it was definitely something Gar would still enjoy. Though your relationship with him was strange and strained lately, you would still give it to him.

You put everything back in the living area exactly as it had been, not wanting to tip off Dick to what had happened. He already had enough reasons to be on Jason’s case, you didn’t want to give him one more. Even though Jason was a bit of a parasite, you thought it was basic decency to have his back.

Just as you were finished tidying, Dick returned through the elevator, heaving several bags of groceries in both his arms.

“How was game night?” He smiled at you as you came over to take a few of the bags from him.

You smiled back, giving him an exaggerated thumbs up with your free hand.

You knew he had picked up some basic signs in the time of knowing you, but he was nowhere near as fluent as Gar, or even Jason. So you stuck to simple ASL with him, or gave him exaggerated facial expressions. Or just wrote things down on paper or texted like you did with most other people.

“Good.” His voice held an edge of relief to it. “The four of you should be spending more time together. It’s good for team morale.”

You felt slightly guilty for lying to him, but you didn’t want to get the others in trouble for something that really wasn’t their fault. He couldn’t force you guys to enjoy spending time together if it wasn’t going to come naturally.

You put away the groceries in relative silence. Once you had finished folding the reusable bags and putting them away, you were going to escape to your room when Dick caught your attention once again.

“Um, one more thing.” He said, stopping you in your tracks, making you turn around to face him. You looked at him with curious eyes, and he continued speaking. “It’s probably none of my business, but… is there something going on between you and Gar? You guys used to be like… best friends, and now you hardly ever spend time with him.”

You felt a dizziness overtake you - that hard drop of your blood pressure from feeling so caught.

It was like the days when you had first met Gar, when your feelings for him were so bold and unrestrained. And anytime someone mentioned his name around you, you practically melted into a puddle.

In response to Dick, you simply shrugged. You knew that you looked entirely guilty as your eyes darted around the room - to the counter, the floor, the dull embers in the fire pit - anywhere but at him.

“Listen, I know this life can be pretty isolating. Especially when you have unique powers. Which is not something I know personally. But I have seen you struggle with it - with using your powers, holding back that unique ability you have when you should be using it and living up to your potential. And I’ve seen Gar help you through it in ways that no one else could.”

Dick’s words, coming from such a steady and authoritative voice did shock you. You were surprised that he considered your powers to be a ‘unique potential’ - rather than the dangerous, privacy invasion tool that you always saw it as. You were even more surprised to hear that he had observed the ways Gar had helped you when you struggled with the decision to hold back or not, the moral confliction of it all.

“It’s good to have someone like that. Someone you can rely on. Someone who knows what it’s like. You just… you shouldn’t push him away. You probably need him now more than ever.”

His words were solid concrete in the otherwise quiet room, weighing down your already heavy heart.

Even though he had no idea why you had been pushing Gar away, strangely… he was right. You finally looked up to find your mentor’s cold steel gaze staring you down.

‘Thank you.’ You mouthed the words along with the sign, just in case he didn’t know what it meant.

He nodded at you, silently releasing you from the conversation. You mindlessly put your hands into the pockets of your sweater as you walked away, and you felt the gentle crinkle of the Twinkie’s wrapper. You decided that you should go visit Gar before you went to bed.

When you approached his bedroom door, you were surprised to see that it was open. You peered inside, peeking your head around the corner, and you found Gar sprawled out on his bed. His laptop was on his stomach as he stared at the white-blue glow with a bored expression on his face. He was likely studying. Trying this best to.

You knocked on the open door to make your presence known. He jumped slightly as you broke his concentration, but he quickly recovered from being startled. He sat up fully and put his laptop to the side, the screen still open and casting a glow into the dimly lit room. You didn’t wait for an invitation to come in, and his gaze was drawn to you as you walked into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

“Y/N. Hey,” He smiled at you, pleasantly surprised that you had come to see him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

A small twinge of guilt flared in your stomach.

You felt bad for avoiding him for reasons that weren’t truly his fault. You felt bad for putting a strain on your friendship with him because you couldn’t control your stupid powers. You felt bad that you couldn’t just tell him the truth.

And a huge part of you felt even worse that you couldn’t control your own lust simply because you knew that he felt somewhat lustful toward you.

As your eyes glanced at his wide thighs spread out on the bed, even covered by his jeans, your pussy ached. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way those thighs had worked as he thrust his cock in and out of you when he had you pinned to the wall in that fantasy. You hated how your mind was so hyper-focused on something that wasn’t even real. Maybe it was just hotter and more wicked because you knew it was a fantasy of his creation. It drove you more insane because it was something he apparently wanted just as badly as you did.

Even if you could never tell him you wanted it as badly as he did because of the way you had found out.

‘I thought you might want this.’ You signed to him.

Past the hazy fog of your lust clouded thoughts, you remembered why you had come to see Gar in the first place. You took the smashed, pathetic Twinkie out of your pocket and presented it to him with a small grin.

“Oh thanks!” He was eager to take it from you, ripping open the packaging and taking a bite of the crumbling cake.

“Yeah, definitely still good.” He assured you with his mouthful, giving you a cheeky smile and a thumbs up.

You were happy that you had finally done something right. You gave him a small thumbs up in return and went to leave again. But he was quick, abandoning his snack on the bed and jumping up to interrupt your path before you could escape.

“Y/N, wait. I was hoping we could talk.” He said quietly, his voice full of a strained hope. “I miss you.”

Even as he pleaded for your attention, your eyes were stuck at your feet. Rather than daring to look up at him, you stared hard at the space where his green socked toes stood in front of yours. You had no clue what exactly was triggering these ‘episodes’ with your powers, but you knew it had something to do with him. You couldn’t risk it, not again.

You loved how almost all of his clothes were green - a choice he often made because he said it was easier to match his hair the way it now naturally grew from his head. The color would forever remind you of him whenever it came up in life. He had taken everything green in your life and possessed it as his own so that it made you smile whenever you saw it. So that anything green would make you mourn for him long after he had left your life in one way or another. You hated it and loved it at the same time.

“If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I wanna fix it.” His voice flexed under the weight of his pain.

It was intensely difficult for you to listen to.

It sliced through you like a knife.

Your selfish acts, your uncontrollable, stupid powers and the way you ran from the consequences had somehow convinced him that he had done something wrong.

Tears pricked your eyes.

You racked your gaze carefully up his body, and your eyes landed on a piece of vanilla cake crumb that had gotten stuck to his chin from the Twinkie. Just the look of it, something that was so foolish and unserious and so Gar in this very serious moment made you crack a smile. Instinctually, you reached over and brushed it away with your thumb.

He sighed out a half-breath that could be perceived as a laugh when he realized what you were smiling at. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously at the thought of his own clumsiness.

‘You have done nothing wrong.’ You assured him, keeping your eyes locked on the wall behind his ear. ‘You never do anything wrong. You’re so good.’

“Then what is it?” He pressed. “Will you please just look at me?”

He used a gentle hand on your chin to force your eyes towards his, and before you could stop it, you were caught up in it again. You were once again sucked into the complicated swell of his beautiful mind.

But this time it was distinctly different. This time it wasn’t some heated fantasy, wasn’t some painted imagining.

This was a memory of something that had already happened. It was most definitely a memory you knew well. Although this time it was like you were watching it from the outside - or rather, you were watching it from Gar’s perspective.

It was a vision of you knelt on the bathroom floor, puking into a toilet. The sounds of your own sickness easily made you cringe. Gar didn’t flinch or feel any disgust though.

You could feel his emotions like the grooves of a record, carved into the memory and being replayed. All he felt was a great wave of sadness for you. Instinctually, not really knowing what else to do, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on your back as your muscles lurched with another wave of gags, forced by your body’s ill-made systems.

It was a specific night that you remembered well.

You had only been in Doctor Caulder’s care for a few weeks at the time, but it had become evident that even though the serum had cured your blindness, your intense migraines and even the occasional seizures caused by your brain tumor still persisted.

You had crawled to the bathroom with the intention of dealing with your ailments in privacy. But Gar’s room was right next to yours, and he had heard you groaning in pain, had heard you throwing up and gasping for breath because of the pure force of the vomit.

So he did the only thing he could think to do. He got a glass of water for you to rinse your mouth when you were done, and then he simply sat with you, trying to bring you some comfort in your time of need. He felt hollow and useless as you heaved into the toilet, nothing left in your stomach to give up but bright green stomach bile, your body forcing every last bit of it out as the migraine raged on.

When the heaving stopped, he pulled you into his lap. He was ready with a warm, damp cloth to put on your forehead, and a towel to wipe your mouth. You relaxed into his calming touch. He bloomed with pride at being able to hold you in his arms, being able to keep you safe, even if he couldn’t heal you from what ailed you.

‘You can leave.’ You signed to him.

At the time, he understood it well, even with just a few weeks of studying under his belt.

A small wave of offense went through him. He didn’t want to leave you. Why would he leave you in such a weak state? He wanted to help you. That’s why he’d gotten out of bed in the first place.

“I’m not gonna leave.” He told you. “I won’t leave you. Ever.”

At the time you had been far too sick to really take in the weight of his words. But now, lingering in the memory, you could feel the determination sitting deep in his chest. The affection for you as it swelled inside him, the way he held you just a bit closer.

You were shocked back to the cold concrete of reality when he gripped your arm in the present, pulling you out of the sweetness of the memory by force. He spoke something that was muffled and full in your ears as you struggled to pull yourself out of the thickness of his clouded mind. The expression on your face must have told him you hadn’t heard him, because he repeated himself.

“Will you please just tell me what’s wrong?” He demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You lied, shaking yourself from his grip. ‘I have to go study.’

You ran from the room before he could confront you any further.

Your mind was positively drowning with thoughts about Gar. Did he feel the same way about you? Had he felt the same way about you since the two of you had met?

Your mind was so clouded that you slammed into your closed bedroom door before you could remember to actually turn the doorknob and open it. It left you cursing internally as you rubbed the sore spot blooming in the middle of your forehead.

This crush was going to ruin you.

…

Unfortunately, you couldn’t easily avoid Gar forever.

The next day, when Dick was giving out assignments, he paired up you and Gar for sparring practice right before he pulled aside Jason and Rachel for a quiz on the assigned reading material. You tried to wave him down, wanting to protest about having Gar as a partner - but of course, he didn’t read ASL. And he didn’t give you any room to protest as he spouted off about what kind of drills the two of you should be practicing and told you that he would come by in two hours to ‘check-in’ on your progress.

You wanted to scream. Sometimes, not having a voice truly, utterly sucked.

You thought perhaps it was Dick’s way of forcing you to make good on the advice he had given you the night before - forcing you to spend time with Gar so that you would stop pushing him away. But it was so damn inconvenient when you still didn’t know what was causing your powers to act up.

As you walked to the training room, you told yourself again and again that you could bear two hours alone with Gar. Especially because one of the drills that Dick wanted you to practice was blindfolded sparring. That was an easy way not to have your powers flare-up against your will. You told yourself that you needed to get back to normal. You couldn’t have Gar thinking that you hated him - thinking that he was the reason for your strange behavior when he was truly the best, kindest person in your life.

Well, technically he was the reason for your strange behavior. But not at all in the way he blamed himself for. And you wouldn’t have him thinking that he had fucked up your friendship somehow or pissed you off unintentionally for some reason he couldn’t even name.

You and Gar exchanged a few words - you agreed that you would wear the blindfold and try to defend against his attacks, and he joked that he would ‘go easy’ on you. It felt delightfully normal between the two of you for a few minutes.

He gave you one of his perfectly dorky smiles and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Beyond his wildly attractive body, beyond that sexual heat - you remembered why you had fallen for him in the first place. Those boyish charms, that gentle nature that made him so irresistible as a friend and so easy to yearn for as a lover.

When you put the blindfold on, it felt like a comforting shield against his wild daydreams, trying to buck free from his mind. You both picked up the wooden swords, and when he asked if you were ready, you nodded.

Unfortunately, you were not exactly on your game.

Usually, you were quite a skilled fighter. You could keep up with the likes of Jason Todd, who trained night and day just to prove how skilled he was. Your powers gave you slightly honed senses, giving you the ability to hear more acutely, giving you the advantage in a situation like this.

But that was part of the problem. You were picking up on Gar’s breathing, the heavy panting coming from his lips as he swung the practice sword and started to work up a sweat. Your concentration was clouded by the small grunts he made as he worked his muscles, and the careful, skilled movement of his footfalls as he charged at you.

He easily landed a few blows - gentle, purposefully light swats - on your arms and torso, and he distinctly noticed you not making any real effort to dodge or fight back. Your mind was too busy churning with the mental image of him sweaty from the effort, imagining those same grunts as he fucked you.

This crush was going to ruin you.

Gar stopped his movements, and you relaxed your body, pausing any half-efforts you were making to fight him off.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Do you have a migraine or something? Do you need to go lay down?”

Of course. He was concerned for your well-being. It was something that only made him sweeter, and only made you twinge with guilt at what had been going through your mind.

‘Fine.’ You responded, performing the sign with one hand, still clutching the practice sword with the other. ‘Keep going.’

You heard Gar sigh - clearly somewhat hesitant.

But then he swung his sword down again, and when you heard it whipping through the air, you made a distinct effort to block it this time. You raised yours up, blocking the blow. He let out a quiet chuckle, pleased now that you were better focused this time around.

You really tried harder.

You found yourself blocking his blows, using your own swift footwork, and even then - your unconscious distraction was apparent.

Usually you were better with your tactile awareness, but as the edge of the mats came under your foot, you didn’t notice. And Gar, ever concerned for your safety, used his non-sword hand to reach out and grab your arm. He quickly yanked you back from the edge in case you tripped and fell. He wouldn’t want you to hit your head on the concrete floor, even if it wouldn’t be a terribly grievous injury.

But he was pumping with energy from the mock fight, and when he pulled you in, he used far more force than he had intended to. It wasn’t a simple correction of your footing like he intended. He accidentally sent your distracted legs tripping over each other and sent you barreling right into him. With the momentum, you knocked him completely off his legs. You ended up falling right on top of Gar as he landed splayed out on the mats, on his back.

Gar broke into a gentle laughter, finding the entire thing to be quite amusing.

His hands naturally found your hips and warmth spread out from there, something that quickly overwhelmed your senses. You dropped your practice sword with a numb hand as you became entirely heated by the feeling of his rock hard body beneath yours. Upon instinct, you reached up, and pulled the blindfold up to rest on your forehead - which turned out to be a terrible mistake.

In that moment, you came face to face with Gar’s stunning, big brown eyes and you were once again sucked into one of his heated fantasies against your will.

Unlike the others, this wasn’t a picture you were viewing. It wasn’t something in his mind that you were only seeing from the third perspective.

No - you were in this.

Somehow, he had drawn you so deeply into his fantasy this time that you were in it, participating in it, truly feeling it.

In the daydream, you were sitting on top of him, easily paralleling your current reality.

But in this dreamy version, he was completely naked, and you felt the delightfully throbbing hum of his cock deep inside of you. Because it was just a dream, it wasn’t nearly as distinct as the real thing would have been. But the feeling quickly spread heat through your entire body. Especially when paired with the visuals his imagination had conjured up for you.

The feeling of his hands on your hips in the real world easily turned into a searing burn that you were sure you could feel on your bare skin. You looked down at him below you, as though you were really straddling his naked body, proudly riding his impressively large cock. His taut muscles rippled under sweaty skin - his abs flexing with the effort, his biceps bulging as he held onto you.

All of it so enticingly topped off by the sight of his face, his forehead glistening with sweat, stray green hairs stuck to it. The expression he held was almost beautifully pathetic as he struggled with such overwhelming pleasure - his lip snagged between his teeth, his brow heavily creased. Quiet, desperate whimpers escaping from his throat as he guided you to grind on his thickness.

You let out a sharp moan of your own, desperately aching for breath, and that chugging in your throat was the thing that sucked out of the deep fog of this fantasy.

When you looked into Gar’s eyes once more, you saw the look of dawning on his face. It was mingled with confusion, but you knew that this time, he had felt it too. He had felt you on a deeper level, and he knew, even if he couldn’t nearly explain it - the two of you had shared that experience on a deeper level.

And what’s more - out here in the real world, not in some sense of fantasy, you could feel his hardness throbbing against your leg. And it felt just as large and impressive as it was in all those dreams. You knew that your cunt was likely boiling hot against him, giving you away. And though the temptation to lean down and ensnare his mouth was so intense, the temptation to beg him to fuck you right then and there - something inside of you kept chanting:

‘Don’t ruin your friendship. He’s your best friend. Don’t fuck it up.’

And somehow, miraculously, fighting against all of your overpowering lust - you listened to that voice. You rushed to get off of him, scrambling off the floor to a standing position on shaking legs. You tried your best to ignore the entirely painful throbbing between your legs as your pussy screamed out for him, for his touch.

Naturally, Gar thought that he had freaked you out. He thought that the reason you had jumped away from him so fast was because he had a raging hard-on and you were intensely disgusted by it. In his mind, he couldn’t easily see it being the exact opposite reason.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He rushed to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. My body - my body just - reacted-”

Gar also rose to his feet, awkwardly tugging at the crotch of his loose workout pants to try and disguise it. You made the mistake of glancing at the tent and visually confirmed that it was just as large as he made it out to be in all of his fantasies (and yours).

‘It’s fine.’ You sighed to him.

You were once again making steady eye contact with the floor - trying not to get drawn back into his mind. But it only made Gar feel more awkward, more like he had wronged you.

Gar’s throat immediately numbed when you turned and left to charge out of the room. You were intensely surprised when you felt his hand on your arm once more - that firm, commanding touch pulling you back once again.

Wrestling with the embarrassment inside of him was a storm of anger.

The fact that even now, you were so unwilling to talk to him about any of the problems in your friendship. You just kept brushing him off. It caused a very uncharacteristic flare of annoyed rage inside of him that he just couldn’t swallow down. So with the hand that he wasn’t using to hide his boner, he kept that grip on your arm. He forced you to stay, forcing you to turn back and face him.

Him asserting himself like that, the show of force over you - oddly enough, it only added to the arousal boiling inside of you. A small whimper escaped from your lips, and you resisted the urge to smack a hand over your mouth in some attempt to hide it. You knew that Gar had definitely heard it when his face shifted from that tense anger to a look of sheer guilt. He thought that the grip on your arm had somehow hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated himself, quickly dropping the grip on your arm. He was glad when you stayed of your own volition this time. “But, can you just talk to me? Please?”

You hated to ignore his pleas, your own guilt curling in your stomach.

After a moment with no response from you, more anger splashed up inside of him.

“I hate this.”

He said quietly, his voice almost breaking under the weight of his pain.

“I hate how we aren’t close anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t spend time together anymore. I feel like I barely even know you…”

He quickly gained momentum in his ranting, his words picking up from a dull whisper. You crossed your arms, keeping your eyes on the floor. You knew that you were the perfect target for all of his upset - so you simply took it.

“This place is changing everyone!” He barked, motioning around wildly to the walls. “I’m living with my best friends and I’ve never felt so damn alone!”

As his words echoed in the open space, he looked at you with intensely sad eyes, obviously waiting for you to say something - waiting for an apology.

But any explanation you could give would mean admitting that your powers had gone haywire. It would mean telling him that you had been invading his privacy without permission. It was bound to screw up your friendship and leave him feeling just as alone. You clasped your fists tight, staying entirely still while he waited for an answer.

“Fine then.” He said quietly, absolutely defeated.

He was the one to charge away this time, harshly smacking his shoulder against yours in anger. He kicked down a rack of weapons on his way out.

You hear him let out a harsh, exasperated ‘fuck!’ when he got halfway down the hall.

At that point, you couldn’t help the tears that escaped as the pain surged through your chest.

Maybe you had fucked up the friendship in an entirely different way.

...

Keep Reading Here: Part Two - Our Past, Our Present, Our Future

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #gar logan #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #garfield logan

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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year

Text

Dreaming Of You

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader

Part One: The Psychic and The Tiger

Summary:

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship.

Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 13,100

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A/N: The first repost on this new blog! I am so excited about it. If you have any comments or questions about the fic, please let me know, and if you have read it before, I hope you enjoy this new version, and if you're reading it for the first time, I hope that it's a really excellent experience for you.