#and maybe Cupid will shove his arrow up my ass in time for me to write some other stuff

[familyvideostevie]

not doing a Valentine’s Day event bc between you and me I forgot it was a real holiday

[marvelobsessedteenager]

Playing Cupid

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff?? Hopefully lmfao, a sprinkle of angst, My Best Friend’s Wedding Spoilers? (edit: cuRSING LMFAO COMPLETELY FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE)

Summary: You’ve been playing Cupid your entire life, setting people up left and right, and have never put much thought into who would be your eternal soulmate. That is until you met Tom Holland. But you don’t know if he feels the same way you do, and you only find out when someone else decides to be your matchmaker.

A/N: Heyo! First fanfiction piece and mAN am I nervous, haha. Enjoy? Also, the scene that I’m talking about below is linked for those of you that haven’t seen the movie :)

-------

“I don’t know what to say, y/n/n. I’m going to look like a div and-“

Not wanting to hear Harrison’s complaining, you quickly pinch his lips in between your fingers and shush him, “First of all, you already look like a div and that’s pretty much never going to change.”

Haz rolls his eyes and grunts as you continue, “Second of all, it’s just a conversation, Haz. Amelia’s pretty chill and is probably the easiest person to talk to. You’ll easily fall into conversation with her. You guys like the same things, why do you think I chose her out of all the girls?”

Ah, yes. That was your job after all. Well, not a job job, though you wish you’d get paid for setting people up with each other. You’d be a billionaire before you reach the age of 25.

But it was your job as a friend to be like a bachelorette for others and help them reach the love they crave. It was quite simple, really. Harrison claimed it had been a gift you were born with - a power sent by the gods above. It seemed like everyone you’d pair up ended up thriving as a couple.

Perhaps it really was a gift, and you were destined to you use it for good.

Right now, you, Haz, Tom, and Harry were inside a cafe giving Harrison the pep talk before his blind date. Amelia was practically your best friend - besides the three dumbasses you were currently with - and was constantly grumbling about not being able to find a guy she genuinely likes. When asked about her interests, you noticed they were strikingly similar to Harrison’s, who was, coincidentally, also single. Ergo, you set them up, knowing they’d be the perfect couple.

“Now,” you run your hand through his untamed hair that he’d spent hours stress-tugging, “Go out there and talk to her. You’ll do great, Hazzy.”

He stares at you intently, blue eyes boring directly into yours, clouded with immense fear. You could tell he was on the verge of backing out, so you take this as your chance to lighten up the situation.

You sigh as you fix his collar while maintaining eye contact, “I’d totally be in love with your dazzling ocean eyes but you’re not my type so stop staring at me, and go stare at her.” You tease and look up at him through your eyelashes, tilting your head towards where Amelia was sitting, waiting for Harrison to ‘arrive’.

He chuckles, “Right. How could I forget?” He gives you a sly smirk, and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Your type is everything Tom is.”

He pulls back fast enough to catch your fleeting eyes and the slight blush that crept up on your cheeks at the mention of your crush.

Well, less of a crush and you’d admit, you’re maybe, slightly, completely and utterly in love with Tom.

Harrison, the one who’d introduced you guys - stating ‘fate has brought you two together’ - effortlessly guessed that you were head over heels for Tom. He even began calling you ‘Cherry’ whenever he saw you go red at the mention of his best friend.

Your friendship began when you went to your local pub for a light drink with one of your closest co-workers. She’d spotted a cute guy whose eyes never left hers, even from across the room. A pub quiz was starting in a few minutes, and you’d told her that that was her chance to go and see if the chemistry was as real as it looked.

Of course, being the good friend she was, she immediately tossed that idea out the window.

“I can’t leave you here alone,” she’d said. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for you to convince her to go. With the quiz starting in a couple seconds, you searched around for a lonesome guy and spotted Harrison.

You downed the rest of your scotch and strutted over to confidently sit beside him.

Before he even got the chance to speak, you opened your mouth and blurted out everything in a word vomit: “Hey, I’m y/n and my friend’s watching because I told her that I’d talk to you and start up a “romance” since that was the only way I could really push her to leave me to talk to the guy that she’s had her eyes on so please just shake my hand and we’ll sit here and talk or do the quiz or whatever the fuck you want, just go along with it?”

You ended it with a lopsided smile, your hanging hand awaiting his own.

Luckily, he’d laughed it off and clasped your open palm. You and him got on like a house on fire, and instantly became close. Later on, he introduced you to Tom.

You never believed in love at first sight, but, fuck, Tom sure was a sight.

“Oi, hurry up, it’s hot as shit in these disguises,” Harry whines as he tugs the collar of his hoodie, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head, “Anyway,” you clear your throat, “Remember, it’s just a girl.”

He closes his eyes, chest rising as he takes a deep breath and nods, “It’s just a girl.”

“Attaboy,” you turn him around and push his shoulders, “Go get her, tiger.”

You take a seat with the boys at a booth that was directly in the sight of your friends with Amelia’s back pointed in your direction. You watch with pride as Haz rolls his shoulders and walks over to Amelia, politely touching her arm. He sits in front of her and starts up a conversation, and has her shyly tucking her hair behind her ear and giggling.

“So,“ Tom says lowly, making you jump slightly at the sudden close proximity, “we just sit inside in these ridiculous disguises and watch them?”

You gasp, offended by his words, and playfully slap him across his chest, “These are not ridiculous. they’re fool-proof.”

“Right. ‘Cause no one wonder why we’re wearing hats and sunglasses inside. And it’s totally normal for the three of us to be hiding behind our menus.” He mocks, sending you a quick wink that would’ve made you weak to your knees had you been standing.

“Shut up Thomas, let me concentrate.” You giggle, pushing his face away, despite the gnawing feeling of wanting him even closer.

For an entirety of 3 excruciatingly long hours, you intently watch the couple, paying extra attention when they finally - finally - stand up to say goodbye.

You gasp as Harrison charmingly holds her hand and plants a kiss on it. You grab both Harry and Tom’s cheeks, shoving them into yours as you squealin delight, “It’s working!”

You feel Tom smile into your cheek, “You love playing Cupid, don’t you, y/n/n?”

“Oh, you bet. It’s kinda sad I don’t get to shoot people asses with an arrow to get them to fall in love but the reaction is enough to satisfy, I guess.”

Harry and Tom let out a loud laugh as you watch Haz walk Amelia out and return to the group with a dreamy smile.

“I take it it went well, didn’t it lover boy?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, as Haz jokingly punches his arm.

“She’s so..perfect. Honestly, it’s- I’m literally speechless. I asked her if she’d like to go on a second date and she said she’d love to.”

You grin widely at the revelation and was about to say how proud you are when you receive a text from Amelia, and immediately check to see if she was right. To your horror, she was.

You facepalm and slide your hand down your face as you bring your eyes to meet Haz’s, looking at him in disappointment.

What a fucking idiot.

His face drops, and he tenses, instantly panicking, “What? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something? Did she say something?”

“Haz, honey.” You smile sympathetically, “Maybe next time, check to see if your fly is down before the date.”

———

When the four of you return home, you cross out Haz’s name from the list on the whiteboard, and happily clasp your hands together as you turn to face the trio.

“All right, Haz’s mission has been a success.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah, even if she saw the Spongebob Squarepants underwear. Tell me, which character did she see? Sandy or Mr. Krabs?”

Harrison lets out an exasperated sigh while Tom and Harry high-five each other, “I told you guys, I was in a hurry this morning and this was the only one left.”

You let out an amused giggle but stop when Harrison glares at you and clear your throat. “Children,” you lightheartedly scold with an accusing finger, “settle down, it’s not that funny.”

“Yes, it is!” Tom manages to say through his wheezing, and your heart squeezes at how adorable he looks when he throws his head back in laughter.

“Anyway!” You yell, rolling your eyes, successfully grabbing the boys’ attention, “I believe it’s Harry’s turn” you turn to smile mischievously at Harry, who was now cowering in fear.

He fidgets in his seat and profusely shakes his head, “Oh, no, no. I’m good, honestly.”

“Harry, I’ve seen you cry while watching Bride Wars and cuddling a life-sized teddy.”

“So? It’s sad.” He mumbles.

“It’s a comedy, for god’s sake.” You frantically dismiss the subject, "Look, I’ve already found the perfect girl. Her name’s Sarah, she goes to the University of Arts, London, and has the same interests as you. Plus, she’s super smart, which should come in handy, especially for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” You chuckle, waving your hands around.

He shoots daggers at you before his face shifts, and you can practically see the light bulb go off in his head, “You know, you keep talking about us guys getting girls, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Cupid fell madly in love with Psyche. If you’re Cupid, there must be someone you fancy. Isn’t there, Cherry?” Harrison grills you, and you figure this is his way of getting back at you for calling the boy’s attention to his zipper.

“Uh,” you gulp, mind completely blanking. For the first time in your life, you practically had no comeback. No snide remark. No sass. Nothing. Your mouth went dry as your eyes briefly connect with Tom’s. He clenches his jaw and bows his head, trying to keep his lid on his simmering jealousy at the thought of you liking someone.

Someone besides him.

See, Tom was also completely head over heels for you. But because of your personality, it was hard to tell whether your flirting was just a part of you, or if you were genuinely into him.

There was always an unspoken spark between the two of you, and even if it was regularly being pointed out by friends and family members, neither of you have talked about it, nor confronted it.

It was just..there. Existing in every space, no matter the time, and though the both of you longed for one another, the profound fear of rejection and stepping over the ‘friendship’ line terminated the thought of any sort of engagement from both sides.

You simply dismissed the electricity in the air with a white, yet massive lie: “We’re just friends.”

“Well, this Cupid isn’t done with her job just yet. I still have to work on Tom, too.” You stupidly point out, mentally facepalming. Why would you say something like that?!

Great, you thought, I just forced myself to set up the love of my life with some girl and watch him happily fall in love with her and then he’ll get married and have kids and-

“I’ve..actually already got eyes on someone.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” You raise your eyebrows, flashing him an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I like someone. I might even be in love with her.”

“Oh.” You slap on a plastic grin before anyone notices your crest-fallen face, rapidly blinking away the tears that have gathered in your eyes, “I’m..happy for you.”

You feel hot flashes run down your spine and your heart shattering into multiple little pieces, each bit slicing your lungs until you felt like you were suffocating. You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, once succumbing to the hopes of maybe, just maybe, he would’ve fallen for you, too.

But, then again, who were you to get your hopes up? It’s Tom. There was no way in hell he would’ve wanted someone like you.

You clear your throat to try to get rid of the massive lump that was lodged in your airpipe and give him a humorless laugh, “Well, I guess you’re off the list, too.�� 

You turn and bit your lip, supressing the tears that were just on the verge of falling as you cross his name out. You sigh and make up an excuse to leave the boys’ curious stares, saying that you needed to go shopping for groceries and snacks for the upcoming movie night that you suddenly dreaded.

Maybe you should grab an extra bucket of ice-cream for yourself.

————

“Heyo! I got double the amount of snacks because I know you fat fucks will probably focus on the food rather than the mov-“ You look up and furrow your eyebrows at the unusual sight of an empty and peaceful living room. You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten just a bit. Maybe you really need some alone time to think.

“In here, darling!” Tom’s wavering voice calls out from the kitchen.

Or, no alone time.

Regardless of what happened a few hours ago, butterflies erupt in your stomach at the nickname before you attempt to shake them away, telling yourself he wasn’t yours, berating your body at its inability to control itself. You sigh, placing yet another plastic smile, and stroll over to the kitchen.

“Hey, Tommy. Where are the rest of the dudes?”

“Just you and I today, love.” He beams, and you could’ve sworn you caught a glint of impishness in his eyes as he walks back to the living room with a large pizza box in his hand.

But, no. Again, he isn’t yours. 

Though that didn’t stop the fire in your chest to grow with curiosity, nor did it stop the thoughts of something special happening tonight. Maybe a confession, your brain hoped.

Oh, great, you roll your eyes, now my mind and my body are betraying me.

You feign a sigh and look down at your arms that were filled to the brink with snacks, “Well,” you shrug, “can’t let the snacks go to waste.”

Once you were sure his hands were empty, you drop all the snacks on him, giggling when he threw his fists up, ready to punch.

“Y/n!” He lightheartedly rebukes you.

“Sorry, my love.” you mockingly apologize and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I’m gonna go get changed.”

You run out into your room before you see his reaction and slam the door, placing your head into your hands, mouth dropping at what you’d just done.

Did you just kiss him?! 

Wait, no. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was just a kiss on the cheek. A friendly kiss, no less. It’s not like you made out with him and told him you’re madly in love with him.

Wonder what would’ve happened if I went a little to the left and- no. No. Get a grip!

“Why can’t my body understand he doesn’t like me?” You whine in annoyance.

After putting on your comfy pj's, and cursing yourself underneath your breath, you waltz back into the living room, situating yourself at the other end of the couch, ignoring Tom’s confused gaze. Usually, there was not a single sliver of space between the two of you, but you figured tonight you’d have to control yourself.

“So, what’d the boys pick out?” You wonder out loud, trying to get rid of the tense awkwardness that settled in the gap between your bodies.

“Some movie called My Best Friend’s Wedding and- why are you sitting so far away?” You jump a little at the quick change of subject within a sentence.

“Wh-uh,” You stammer, rummaging through your brain for an excuse, “I might have a fever?” You state, though it comes out as a question. You add a fake cough to cover up for your lame excuse.

Tom stares at you skeptically before rolling his eyes, “You suck at lying. Come here,” He pulls you by your arms and places them around his waist while his circle your shoulders. Your typical position.

You felt confused. He liked - possibly loved - someone, yet continues to cuddle you and give you pet names. It felt like he knew something, a very specific secret, and was toying with your emotions. 

He offers you a slice of pizza when he saw your dazed expression, which instantly melted away as you began eating.

Neither of you focused on the movie, too busy moaning and eating away at the delicious pizza. Blindly, both of you reach for the last slice, resulting in mild hand-to-hand contact that set your body on fire.

You slowly look up at each other, eyes alight with warmness, before you narrow yours and snatch the slice away, “Mine!”

Tom seemed to snap out of his daze when you made a run for it, “Hey! That’s my slice! Y/N!”

He staggers to his feet, immediately running after your giggles that led him to the kitchen, where each of you was on opposite ends of the island.

Your lips curl into a menacing smile as you slowly bring the slice to your open mouth.

“Don’t,” Tom warns, gradually inching towards you.

“Or what?” You challenge.

“I..won’t talk to you for a week!”

With pursed lips, you look down at the slice, pretending to contemplate your decision before you shrug, “That’s not even a punishment-“

In a quick moment, you feel your stomach flip as you squeal and hit a hard surface, only to realize that surface is Tom’s rigid back. He’s currently holding your thrashing self over his shoulder, arms tightly gripping your legs.

“Put me down, you buffoon! I do not enjoy being this close to your ass!”

“Oh, please. Anybody would kill to be in your position.” He begins his walk back to the living room when you realize the slice laid face down on the ground, completely forgotten by Tom, but not by you.

You gasp loudly, attempting to reach for the idle pizza that seemed to be getting farther and farther away, “Wait, Tom! The pizza!”

He laughs and throws you onto the couch and lays on top of you, head on your chest. You pout and hope and pray to the gods above that he doesn’t hear the wild thundering of your heart.

You’re at the part of the movie where Julianne takes Micheal somewhere secret to confess her feelings towards him, and a snide remark casually slips from your lips.

“Those glasses make her look like Yzma from Kronk’s New Groove.”

“Oh my god, I can’t unsee that now.” He chortles wholeheartedly, and you feel the vibrations from his chest rattle your body. A jolt of love and happiness surges through your veins. His laughter was like music to your ears. You would listen to it all day if you could.

God, you’re so in love with this boy.

“Why didn’t she tell him before the wedding?” He questions after calming down, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You huff out in slight annoyance and pause the movie, turning your head to look at him, “Did you not just hear her whole rant?”

“I still don’t understand it, honestly.”

“Well..would you?” You ask, slightly afraid of the answer. You knew this question was a loaded one, that this wasn’t about the movie anymore. That is was time to confront him about what was killing you inside.

He furrows his brows, obviously caught off guard, “Would I what?”

“Um,” You suddenly sit up, body facing his, “Let’s say that we’re best friends-”

“You’re saying we’re not?” He cuts in, jokingly placing a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt.

“-And you’re in love with me.” You roll your eyes, despite the ache in your ribs resulting from the intensity of the banging of your heart. I’m actually doing this, you think. “You’ve been in love with me for a while now. But you’re scared that I might not reciprocate those feelings. Would..would you tell me anyway?”

You knew that that was not the plot of the movie, nor was it the reason Julianne didn’t tell Michael. This was your plot now. Your story. 

He blankly stares at you for a moment before he speaks, “Well,” he starts off softly, grabbing your hand, and for a moment, you fear this might be his way of letting you down easy, “Maybe I do want to risk it. If I want to let you know, maybe I’d set something up. We’d be at home, alone, watching a romantic comedy that seems to almost match our issue. But, maybe I don’t want their ending. The one where one ends up heartbroken and the other marries someone else.”

His gentle eyes finally meet yours, and you feel yourself softening, “And maybe I’m hoping you don’t want their ending, either.”

At last, you feel most of your insecurities melting away, knowing he felt the same way you did. He cautiously inches towards your face, and you do the same, lips merely centimeters away when-

“Wait,” you push at Tom’s chest, causing him to look at you with wide, panicky eyes, “So, I was the girl you were talking about earlier?” You wince, just an ounce of anxiety lingering.

Tom scoffs and shakes his head lovingly, “Yes, you dumbass.” He goes to lean in again, and you stop him. Again.

“Wait, wait, wait.” At this point, Tom closes his eyes and huffs in frustration, “Did you just spoil the ending for me?” You ask with wide eyes, staring at him in disbelief.

“Oh, for the love of-“

He crashes his lips into yours, and you freeze for a moment before melting into him. He pulls at your waist until you’re practically straddling him, lips never detaching from one another. They move in sync, almost like they were merely made to fit and function as a unit.

Just when it was getting heated, you reluctantly pull away when you hear a ruckus near the front door.

“YES! WHO’S CUPID NOW?” Harrison barges in, pumping his fist in the air.

“You set this up?” You disbelievingly question in between your pants.

“Well, I did most of the work.” He smirks and shrugs his shoulder, just as Harry appears from the doorway, punching him in the arm, “I helped, too.” He grumbles.

You glance at Tom and your eyebrows shoot up, lightbulb instantly going off in your head, “Wow, guys.” You praise, voice dripping with slick sweetness, “I can’t believe you finally got me and Tommy together. Now I can finally kiss him whenever I want and call him whatever I want.”

“Isn’t that right, babycakes?” You dramatically coo, cradling Tom’s red face in your hands.

His eyes light up as he finally gets it and plays along, “That’s right my cuddly-wuddly.” He murmurs, rubbing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss.

You titter into the kiss when you hear gagging noises accompanied by “Ugh, gross!” And “Get a room!”

Tom pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, “I love you.” He whispers, almost afraid to break the fragility of the situation. 

“Likewise, movie star.” You tease with a suppressed smile.

He shakes his head and lovingly rubs small circles on your waist when you hear Harry’s booming voice, “Why is there a dead pizza slice on the ground?”

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 4

Richie groaned as his eyes flickered open, and then squeezed right back shut. A beam of harsh grey light blazed in through his window, scorching out his eyes and sending a wave of pain and nausea throughout his entire body. Shit, he thinks to himself, How much did I drink? From the way he was feeling he wouldn't be surprised if he downed the whole punch bowl himself. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a shiver running down his spine. Pulling his blanket closer to himself, Richie snuggled into the couch cushions and tried, desperately so, to piece together the events from last night. The party had gotten started pretty smoothly, he remembers, the music picking up and the people filing in. He'd polished off a cup by the time Ben, Bev and Mike had all arrived and then went for a second one. Richie had been the great host he was always known to be, soaking in the attention like a dry sponge, saying hello's and giving compliments and flaunting his favourite voices. At some point, just as he was growing a little more tipsy, the three new kids arrived; Bill, Stan and Eddie. That's when Richie had a third drink. From there, things began to blur, just a little bit- he could grasp onto small wisps of memory, Eddie's asthma attack, his little tantrum, and then the cold smell of the rain as the two stood on the balcony side by side.

Richie's head was pounding all the more with the efforts of tugging back his thoughts. He decided to let the memory-digging go, since seeing through the fog in his mind took more effort than he currently had. He let his mind go blank and numb, simply soaking in the cloudy sun rays. The slight pang of dread that Richie felt next was result of a certain realization- he had to clean his stupid apartment. If this headache didn't let up, he didn't know if he could. Surely, the place would be trashed, because he encouraged that kind of party behavior and didn't mind if people got a little rowdy so long as they were enjoying themselves- the one thing that made him annoyed this time, though, was that usually Richie controlled his drinking a little bit better. He hadn't touched the faucet a single time in the last 12 hours or so, and mixing dehydration with excessive amounts of alcohol was a disaster waiting to happen. A door somewhere in his house creaked open, though he wasn't certain which it was. The way it slammed heavily led him to believe it was his front door. Maybe he should be alarmed, but he doesn't have the energy to feel anything other than discomfort.

"Richie!" The voice of Beverly rang through the house and brought with it splitting pain. Wincing, Richie let out a loud groan and some unintelligible mumbling close to a string of curses. Bev stepped into the room wearing a too-bright outfit consisting of a bright yellow hoodie and black jean shorts that would have threatened to burn Richie's eyes right out of his skull if they weren't still screwed shut. "I brought you coffee, get up," Bev threw herself down onto the couch, right on top of Richie's legs, crushing them underneath her. She wasn't heavy, so it didn't hurt, but it was sudden and jarring enough to draw some choked scream from Richie's throat. His eyes snapped open and he flinched back, shielding them from the still-burning sunlight with a hiss.

"Shit, quite the wake up call, Bevvie," He grumbled, pulling his feet from under the redhead just in time to see his other pal, Ben, stepping into the room with an apologetic smile. "Hey, guys, why don't you come in?" Richie's voice comes out sarcastic but still as playful as he can manage it. Beverly and Ben always stopped by without much notice- it was just how the three were.

"Headache?" Ben asked, though his tone said he already knew the answer, "Me too. The coffee'll help." Taking a seat on Beverly's other side, Ben sipped at his own drink. From the expression on his face, Richie took it that he wasn't too fond of black coffee.

"What 'bout you, Bev? How's your head?"

"You know me," Beverly clicked her tongue, jabbing her thumb in her direction, "The Queen of no hangovers. I'm just fine. That's actually the only reason I paid for your drink- I pity you and your weak, lanky-ass body." She reached forwards, grabbing Richie's coffee and shoving it into his hands. "Now drink. I have news."

"Oh? And what would this news be?" At last, Richie brought the drink to his lips, bracing himself for the dark, bitter taste that he had always despised. Just as he had expected, the urge to gag rose in his throat as the coffee went down. He held back that feeling of sickness, suffering through the discomfort and finishing off his sip with a grimace. Already, the throbbing in his head eased off just a bit.

"Well," Beverly looked over towards Ben, her grin stretching wide, "Richie, you know how I'm the greatest girl on the planet and you adore every thing about me?" Her lime eyes were physically glittering, as bright as the rainy-day sun itself.

"No, Bev, I had no idea," For this, Richie got a punch in the shoulder that sent his head spinning again, "Ah, shit, I'm kidding!" He reaches up a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, letting a weak chuckle slip by as he took another sip of his coffee.

"Well," Beverly continued without losing her smile, "I may or may not have gotten you that Eddie boys phone number-"

"What?" Richie cut her right off halfway through her sentence, his own voice bouncing around his skull and sending fresh, new waves of discomfort. "What did you say? Why? What did-" With a sip of his coffee, Richie shut himself right up. If he kept talking so loudly he'd probably vomit. With a shaky breath, he spoke a little quieter. "When, why and how?"

"For your information I advised her against it. I know it's not her job to play cupid, but... she's relentless when she wants to be." Ben leaned forwards to look past Beverly as he spoke, setting his now-empty coffee cup down on the table in the process. The redhead rolled her eyes, pulling out her phone and holding a hand out to ask silently for Richie to pass her his. As he pulled it from where it still sat in his pocket, she leapt into an explanation.

"Last night I spent some time with those two new guys, uh... Bill and Stanley, they're named. They were super worried for Eddie, especially after you left to go 'comfort' him- you'll have to tell me how the comforting went later, by the way-" Bev opened both hers and Richie's contacts lists, transferring Eddie's number onto Richie's phone, "Bill told me he thinks you're too loud for Eddie's tastes, but Stan said that you two would get along fine with a little time. So, since I'm the only one here who is moderately in tune with my emotions I took the big step for you and asked for his number. You're welcome." Richie's phone was handed back to him again. He took another sip of his coffee and realized he wanted a cigarette.

"I repeat- why?"

"Oh, come on, Richie, he's exactly what you look for in a guy! He's short and he's just a little bit of an ass- also, have you seen him? He's adorable!" Bev grabbed Richie by the shoulder, pulling him into a side-hug that yet again disturbed his easing headache.

"How do I even know he's into guys? What if he's straight as an arrow?"

"Rich has a point, Beverly," Ben spoke up at last, only to be pulled into a side-hug all the same by Bev's other arm, "Is it fair to assume these things?" Beverly rolled her eyes, letting her head lean sideways to rest atop Ben's.

"Fine, fine, I'll do some more digging before I force the two of you on a date together, but trust me- I have a sixth sense for these things."

"Hah!" Richie scoffed, smiling, "Bullshit you have a sixth sense!"

"Just text him or something, okay? Say you want to get to know the new kids better! Just give it a shot." All at once, the playful, light atmosphere in the room dampened, and Bev let both boys go, turning to face Richie entirely. "You deserve someone who'll treat you right, Rich." She took his hands in hers, a frown scrawling itself over her face, "So I won't stop helping until you do." Ben stood from his seat, crossing over to sit on the couches armrest on Richie's other side. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering up a small, warm smile. Richie felt a burning in his nose that often accompanied the urge to cry.

"I..." He swallowed down the growing lump in his throat, then let out a shaky chuckle, "Thank you, you guys. I love you both." Richie pulled both Ben and Beverly in for a hug, letting their presence soothe him yet again.

***

The bell above the door let out it's happy little jingle and Richie's head snapped upwards, a smile spreading over his face. The day in the cafe had been pretty slow, which was unusual for a Sunday, but it was just nearing the afternoon rush so he was still ready for a flood of people. The cafe had been empty save for two other miscellaneous college students chattering in the far corner until now, as three familiar faces make their appearances.

"My oh my, what a fine morning it is!" Richie leaned on the counter, his smile turning almost goofy as he sunk into the persona of the Southern Belle, "A swell day to you, fine gentlemen!" The three reactions he received were all drastically different- from Bill, he earned a smile, from Stan a roll of his eyes- but a playful one, at that- and from Eddie, Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, a scoff and a scowl.

"H-Hey, Richie," Bill waved as he arrived at the counter, scanning the overhead menus, "Can I hu-have a pumpkin spice with extra cinnamon?"

"But of course, sir Bill," Richie tapped away at his register, and then, with fluttering lashes, turned to Stan, "And what will you be desiring today, sir Stanley?"

"Black coffee please- and can I get a blueberry muffin as well?" Richie nodded his head and continued to tap away, before finally turning to Eddie, though the shorter man was preoccupied with sending a glare in Stan's direction.

"How can you drink that? You know that's like, 100% caffeine, right? You know it's not good to drink so much coffee? Until we're 21 coffee can mess with our brains and all sorts of shit." Stan let out a sigh, turning back to Eddie with a smile and a nod of his head, brown curls dancing with the action.

"Thanks for the warning, Eddie," he said sarcastically, "Are you going to order something?"

"No way." Eddie turned back to Richie, shaking his head, "Uh-uh."

"Alrighty then," Richie's smile was ever-lasting, amusement fluttering inside of his chest, "I'll get those ready for you in no time. You can go take a seat- word of advice, we're expecting a rush soon so you should go grab a good one." To accent his words, the door was pushed open, and in came another customer.

"I'll do that," Bill offered, and hurried away for a table.

"I have to go use the washroom- can you wait for the drinks please, Eddie?" Stan was already taking a few steps away, not giving Eddie a chance to decline, instead leaving him there sputtering, face overtaken by betrayal. He let out a huff, and moved for the pickup counter.

"Hey, Rich?" Ben called from where he was positioned by a sink, drying his hands, "Mind if I take over the register for a while? I have stuff in the back ovens that needs to be checked every few minutes." Richie gave him the A-okay in the form of a jazzy thumbs up, and then he was backpedaling towards the coffee machines to start on the drinks just ordered rather than ringing other people up. "Thanks,"

"Anything for you, Haystack!" Richie got quickly to work. A black coffee, a pumpkin spice latte with extra cinnamon, and a blueberry muffin. Easy peasy. Bev should be into work any minute now, too, to make everything here just a little simpler. With his headache mostly gone, Richie was on fire, speeding around the empty bar with practiced ease- after a moment of feeling Eddie's gaze burning into his back, he shot him a glance, catching his eye- Eddie looked away at once. "Can I help ya Eds?" Richie asked over his shoulder, seeing the way just a little bit of red climbed up Eddie's neck.

"Yeah," Eddie crossed his arms, wearing his usual grimace, "Are you aware of how unsanitary you're being right now? You aren't wearing a hair net, you didn't wash your hands after working the register- those are my friends drinks you're making and I can't just let you get them sick." Oh, that makes more sense now- Eddie was watching him, silently critiquing his work ethic. He wasn't just staring at Richie for the hell of it, of course not. Richie smiled to himself, pushing up his glasses and reaching for a cup sleeve and a lid for Stan's black coffee.

"Thanks so much for the tips, Eds,"

"Don't call me that."

"Fine, fine, sorry Eddie Spaghetti." There was a beat of silence, and then a,

"What? What did you just say?" Richie found himself laughing, putting the coffee in it's cardboard sleeve and securing the lid in place, pulling his pen out of his pocket, "Did you just call me 'Eddie Spaghetti'? What does that even mean?"

"It rhymes," Richie says matter-of-factly, and sets the coffee down after scrawling down a name, "Doesn't it?" Then, Richie is back to work with the pumpkin spice.

"Yeah, of course it does, but it's stupid." Richie let out a gasp, pressing one hand to his chest in feign offence.

"I'm wounded, Eds! Truly wounded," Plucking a new cup from the stack, he put it under the machine's nozzle and tapped a few buttons, flicked a few knobs, getting the coffee pouring, "It's almost like you hate me or something!"

"I do, basically. You're kind of annoying." Eddie's words came out muttered, and as Richie picked up the cup meant for Bill and turned in his direction he caught the way Eddie was picking at the counter top, eyes downcast. Richie thinks he's joking about hating him. Lid, sleeve, write down Bill's name- done. The cup is set down by Stan's and Richie takes a muffin from the display, slipping it into a brown bag.

"There ya go, Spaghetti Man," Richie sets the bag down on the counter and Eddie gathers everything up, "Do enjoy, and don't hesitate to come on by again some other time. Maybe I can whip up another low-caffeine drink for you, huh?" Richie meets Eddie's gaze through his thick-framed glasses, and for a quick second Eddie looks as if he almost smiled. Then, he shrugs his shoulders, spins on his heel, and wanders away to meet Bill. For just a second, Richie stares- it's entirely momentary, no more than a flicker of hesitation before Bev is calling his name as she arrives and he's snapping out of his daze. It was just the blink of an eye, right? No one saw that, no one at all, and even if they did it doesn't matter because he was just distracted. Just a tiny bit out of it for a heartbeat. Richie gets back to work, everything just fine, perfecto- at one point a few minutes later he hears Eddie's laughter ringing around the room in response to the name Richie wrote on Stan's cup- he was glad to know that 'Stanthony' had gotten a laugh, and even more glad that that laugh came from Eddie. Again, Richie caught himself- he was only glad it was Eddie who was laughing because he wanted to be his friend, and so far the shorter boy had been giving him trouble with that. That was all. If Bev and Ben noticed the little spring in Richie's step, they don't say a thing, and neither does he. The rest of the shift goes smoothly.

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part fifty seven/

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Just a filler, and imo its boring :/ feedback is always appreciated! I’m gonna pair ‘Wish You Were Here’ from the playlist for this one! moodboard credit goes to: @itsclaranotcarla

Warnings: language

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyes , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @natsuyaxo @awesomealmostdopestudent @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @malibubarbievince, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer@electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartistm @emmaelizabeth2014, @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @cranberribread, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @meetthesixxter. @xpoisonousrosesx, @sleepyjunhong @lovemythsworld @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks, @unknownoblivion, @love-struck-aries, @lavendersoundbarrier, @oskea93, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @xsixxx, @fentitrbl, @cruesixxlover1991, @kaitieskidmore1, @arianareirg, 

-May 14th, 1994-

 *Nikki’s POV*

I stepped into the tattoo shop on the strip, Greg, my tattoo artist immediately coming out from the back, “Hey man, you ready?” He questioned as he lead me through the shop and over to his area. I loved the smell of the sterile environment, the lights gave me a headache sometimes but it was tolerable. Some other dude was getting his leg worked on by another artist as he gave me a nod of acknowledgment. I pulled off my shirt and sat down in the leather chair.

We were gonna start filling in the octopus on my other shoulder that would lead down my arm alongside the Motley tattoo, flowers and the little Cupid figure I already had. It was also going to cascade down my chest as well.

I let my mind drift off as the buzzing from the machine started. The band was on a little hiatus at the moment. Music was still being produced, but just not at the speed I would like for us to be at. I guess everyone’s just tired or something. Vince has been using his free time with Sharise and Skylar and when he’s not with them he’s driving race cars. It’s a new interest of his clearly, I haven’t been to the track with him yet but I know Tommy has.

Mick has been off doing his own thing with Emi, they got married a few months ago so he’s off in la la land with her. I think she’s a total airhead but whatever. He’s happy so I’m happy for him.

Tommy is currently going through a separation with Heather but his ass isn’t even here to deal with it because he keeps jetting off to New York for some bitch he met. I remember when he told me, he said he was in love. Which honestly, isn’t the first time those words has came out of his mouth. It’s annoying though, he just takes off and doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going or how long he’s going to be away for. Whoever this chick is, she has him wrapped around her god damn finger and I hope Tommy knows what the hell he’s doing.

“You still got that?” I opened my eyes to look over at Greg as he wiped away the excess ink.

“Still got what?” I questioned as he chuckled, “That.” He pointed down to Vanity’s name.

“Yeah, so what?” I became defensive and pulled away from him before he brought the needle back down on my skin.

“What does your wife think of it?” He grinned as I rolled my eyes.

“She hates it and wants it covered up.” I admitted as I looked down at the cursive, rolling my eyes at the arguments Brandi and I had have over it.

“Shit, I would too if my lady had an old boyfriends name tattooed on her. I can cover it up if you want?” Greg suggested as he continued coloring in my shoulder.

I was quiet for a moment, “How would you cover it?”

He glanced at me, “Well, I could either black it out or we could put some roses over it or something like that. At least you’ve learned your lesson on tattooing someone’s name on you.” He laughed a bit as i shook my head.

“I don’t regret it, not one bit.” I expressed as he nodded.

“Where’s she at anyways? She skipped town on you?” Greg questioned as I nodded.

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care. Can we stop talking about her?” I demanded as he nodded.

“Say no more, Sixx.” He finally shut up and continued working on my shoulder as I sat there staring blankly at the tattoo flash art in front of me on the wall.

“So, how is Brandi? Did that little tattoo on her ankle heal okay?” Greg asked me as I smiled.

“Yeah man, she’s great. Thanks for doing that for me..but she’s good, we’re good. She’s at some photoshoot right now working.”

He nodded, “...Saw her playboy issue last month, you’re a lucky dog.” I chuckled at his words with a proud smirk on my face.

“Yeah, maybe I am. She’s hot ain’t she? Always got some swimsuit photoshoot poster on my mirror at a gig. Sometimes she’s naked, sometimes she’s not.”

Greg laughed, “Lucky bastard.” He shook his head before we continued tattooing.

After a few hours of a needle being driven in and out of my skin, we were finished. I stood in front of the mirror, checking it out, “Man, this looks so fucking sick. Thank you. I fucking love it.” I praised him as he continued to wipe it down. My eyes drifted down to my rib cage.

“So roses?” I asked him, pointing at her name as he nodded, “Yeah, I’ll free hand it. Draw one here, here and here. Maybe color it with some deep reds and purples. It will be like it was never there.”

“Let’s do it man.” I looked at him as he patted the seat again. I sat down and rested, feeling him take a marker as he started drawing on my skin.

It was time to get it covered up. To close the book on the Nikki and Vanity story. The trial and tribulations of two fucked up people trying to be together when they clearly don’t mash well with one another.

“Okay? How does it look, Nikki?” Greg asked, holding up a hand held mirror as he showed me. I nodded, “Looks good man. Let’s do it.”

*Flashback, Nikki’s POV*

I laid in bed with Vanity, hearing her soft breathing as her face nuzzled into my chest and her lips ever so softly pressing light kisses to my skin. I sighed in our embrace as I pulled her closer to me, that alone being impossible. Our legs were entangled together as we were wrapped around the burgundy sheets of our bed.

Her arm was slung around my waist, holding me tight, “I love you.” She mumbled to me as I kissed the top of her head, running my finger tips up and down her back.

Her fingernail traced her name on my skin as i squirmed under her touch, “Stop, that tickles.” I laughed a bit as she lightly pinched me instead.

“I didn’t think I’d actually like this, but I do. It’s like I own you now.” She chuckled, looking up at me as she propped her head up by her elbow.

“Own me? Kinda like how my band owns your ass?” I retorted raising an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes at me.

“That wasn’t my choice, and quite frankly I was taken advantage of while I was under the influence.” She pointed out, combing fingers through her messy bed hair.

I laughed a bit, reaching up to give her a kiss on the lips. “Taken advantage of? If I remember correctly, you laid there and took it like a champ. Which I mean, is usually what you do- Ow!” I let out a loud laugh when she punched me in the gut.

“So mean in the morning.” I mumbled, wrapping her up in my arms as I rested my head on her shoulder.

“We can always get it covered up if you want.” I suggested as she looked at me like I was crazy.

“What? No! I absolutely love my tattoo! I’m never getting it covered up! I’ll be an old lady in the nursing home flaunting it and telling all the other old ladies how much I partied with the worlds baddest rock band back in my hay days.” She explained with a laugh as she kissed my lips.

“And rolled around the bed with the lead singer, or wait was it the bassist- Ow! Nikki!” She groaned as I swatted her tattooed ass cheek.

“And I’ll tell all those old ladies how I got this groupies name tattooed on me.” I smirked as she rolled her eyes.

“Haha, so very funny.” She muttered before giving me another kiss, “As long as I’m your favorite groupie ever, that’s all that matters to me.” She whispered against my lips as they tugged into a smile.

“Shit, I don’t know baby. How am I gonna tell the other groupies that they aren’t my favorite?” I questioned as she swung her leg over my hips and straddled my waist.

“You’re gonna pull up your shirt, point at my name and tell them to come talk to me.”

*End Flashback*

I watched as Greg started bringing the the tattoo needle closer to my skin, “No! Wait! Wait!” I shoved his hand away as he stared at me.

“I don’t-I don’t want it.” I said, wiping off the purple drawing of roses from my skin, “I don’t, no I’m not getting rid of it. Not yet.” I panicked as I grabbed my shirt.

“Okay man, just relax. You don’t have to. Do it when you’re ready.” Greg smiled at me as I nodded, trying to catch my breath.

“I...does it make me a bad husband?” I mumbled, looking up at him as I put my shirt back on.

He didn’t answer me, instead he started cleaning up his station, “It doesn’t matter what I think Nikki. It matters to Brandi. I’m sure it hurts her feelings every time she sees it.”

I rolled my eyes as I put my sunglasses back on, grabbing my jacket and put it on too as I handed over some cash for him, “Till next time, man.” He nodded as I walked out the shop.

I shook my head, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I moved to the side of the walkway as someone with birthday balloons walked past me. I walked to my car before getting in and driving back home.

*Vanity’s POV*

“Happy birthday to you!!” We finished singing to Arianna as she smiled at the camera, “Blow out your candles, princess!” I cheered and she attempted to do so until I had to help her. I didn’t want to eat a toddlers spit riddled cake.

“Good job, baby!” I kissed the top of her head as Clementine snapped a few pictures.

“I want cake! And presents!” She shouted, giggling as I started cutting a piece off for her, handing it to her as she started eating it.

It was just me and Clementine celebrating her birthday. Mom had sent gifts from my siblings and herself. My grandparents had sent their separate gift which included paperwork for a future bank account when she’s way, way older. Tommy left gifts before leaving a few days prior to go back to California. But it was okay, by the smile on her face and high pitched laughter ringing through the house, her heart was full and that’s all that mattered to me.

I opened my mouth when she attempted to feed me a piece of her vanilla frosted rainbow cake, only to smear it all over my face, “Thanks Arianna, that is exactly what I needed.”

I glared at the camera when I heard the click, “Oh, that’s gonna be a good one.” Clementine smiles, “Good job Ari.” She reached out for a high five.

I wiped my face quickly before sitting down at the table and having Arianna crawl into my lap right after. She turned three today, even though it feels like she was just born yesterday. Now she’s walking everywhere and talking in broken up phrases. Shes Constantly telling me what color car passed us while we’re driving to the park. I signed her up for preschool which she will start later in the fall. Mom suggested it to me, that since she is getting a bit older and a hell of a lot smarter. Plus, it would give me a few hours of the day by myself.

I also wouldn’t have to worry too much about leaving Arianna with people I don’t know because Clementine works as a teachers assistant at the school she’ll be going to. So, I pulled some strings, signed a check and she was placed into the Butterfly class with Clementine.

“Mommy, open presents?” Arianna tilted her head to look up at me, her cheeks and nose completely covered in icing. I wiped her face as fast as I could before she started complaining and wiggling off my lap. She ran over to her mountain of presents as she pointed at all of them.

“I think she’s in overload, way worse then Christmas morning.” Clem pointed out as I agreed with her, smiling as Arianna started ripping open packages of pink and purple metallic foil with yellow bows.

“Well, what can I say? She’s spoiled.” Arianna ran up to me putting a Barbie in my lap, “Wow, Malibu beach Barbie? How cool!” She took the new toy away from me and ran back to all her presents.

“Just think, after going to preschool her next birthday party will include a whole bunch of screaming, drunk on sugary treats children running around your house.” Clementine giggled as I shook my head.

“Hell no, her parties will be outside from then on out. I love my kid, but I don’t want someone else’s kid touching my stuff with their dirty little sticky hands.”

We watched as Arianna tore through all of her presents, throwing the clothes to the side as her only focus was on the toys everyone had sent to her, “What did Uncle Tommy give you now?” I asked Arianna as she trotted up to me holding a stuffed bear. She handed it over as I looked at it. It was your simple fuzzy teddy bear, however it was wearing fake spiked cuffs around the wrist and a black shirt that read ‘Mötley Crüe’ and the bear even had tiny fake sunglasses on it.

I handed it back to her, smiling “We’ll have to call Tommy and say thank you, right Ari?” She nodded as she held the bear close to her chest.

“That’s sweet of him.” Clementine said, adding a swooning sigh as I rolled my eyes.

“Oh please, don’t act like that when you’ve been turning him down every chance you get, Clementine.” I barked back as she chuckled.

“Keeps things just a tad bit interesting, don’t you think? Plus, I haven’t turned him down. I have at least hanged out with him once every time he comes to visit.” She explained with a snarky laugh as I smiled back at her.

“Watch out Clem, he might get bored.” I chuckled as she gave me a frown.

“You really think he’d do that?” I glanced over at her, leaning back in my chair as I kicked my feet up on the table.

“God no, Tommy’s in it deep with you. He won’t stop till he has you. It’s only going to get worse from here on out. The flowers, the gifts, the cute little comments he makes that you say you hate so much.” I pointed out as I saw her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

“Plus, I think you kinda dig him too.” I shrugged, licking the frosting off my spoon as I wiggled my eyebrows.

“He’s sweet and everything, but I don’t know. He’s...you know...he’s-“

“A rockstar? He’s what?” I questioned, curious to what her answer would be as I glanced over at her.

“Well yeah, he’s Tommy Lee. He gets chicks all the time why would he want me?” She shrugged as I laughed at her words.

“Cause Clem, you’re fucking hot if you choose to see it or not. And Tommy is a man who loves to love women and you just happen to be in his eyesight right now.” I explained as she shook her head.

She sighed and looked at me, “Vanity, I know he’s going through a divorce. What if I’m just something to keep him busy? How do you know he isn’t just keeping me around cause he’s lonely?”

“He would’ve already taken you to bed if you were just something to keep him occupied.”

“And how could you possibly know that Vanity, what if-what if.” Clementine continued to express her worries.

I rolled my eyes, “You’re looking way to deep. I know Tommy pretty well and I’m positive he’s trying to take his time for like once in his life.”

She let out a huff as she picked up her paintbrush and started painting again, “I hope you’re right Vanity.”

I smiled, “I’m always right Clementine.”

*Fall of 1994, Vanity’s POV*

“Mommy! School time!”

I shot up to a sitting position, half asleep as i stared at Arianna who was at the foot of of my bed smiling at me. Her morning hair reminded me of Nikki’s.

I groaned, laying back down, “But I don’t want to go to school, princess.” I heard giggling as she crawled up onto my bed and sat at my side. I turned to look at her.

“No! Not for you! For me!” She said, grabbing ahold of my hand and trying to pull me up as she started jumping on the bed.

“It’s my first day of school, mommy!” She shouted with glee as I pretended to go back to sleep, “Mom! Wake up!” Her little tiny hands tried pushing me off the bed as I started laughing.

“Okay, alright. Let’s get up.” I rubbed my eyes, glancing to the alarm clock and seeing it was only six thirty in the morning. I was caught off guard when Arianna climbed onto my back and tightly wrapped her arms and legs around me.

“I had a dream about unicorns and, and they had wings made out of cotton candy.” She explained as I walked to the bathroom, her clinging to me like a monkey.

“Well that sounds super cool.” I chuckled, pulling her off me and setting her down on the floor. I brushed out her hair with minimal complaints and whining. She wanted it up in a ponytail with a neon green bow so I obliged.

She followed me to the kitchen, climbing up onto the dining table chairs as I quickly fixed up a bowl of Frosted Flakes and a sliced banana for breakfast before I started packing a lunch for her and making sure she had her backpack ready.

“I need to go potty!” She announced before running down the hallway. It was time for coffee.

After Arianna finished her breakfast, we went back to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth and finish getting ready. She lead me to her room and went to her closet to pick out clothes as I made her bed.

Arianna picked out jeans, light up shoes and a matching shirt to go with her bow, “You get dressed and go watch some cartoons, mom has to get ready.”

I went to my bedroom, opened up the curtains and straightened up my bed before getting dressed. I tugged on a pair of leggings and pulled a red hoodie on before slipping on a pair of flip flops. I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth and threw my hair up into a messy bun.

I glanced out my door when I heard loud rock music playing, “Ari! That doesn’t sound like morning cartoons!” I took one last look at the mirror before leaving and going to the living room.

Nirvana’s ‘All Apologies’ was playing as Arianna was slowly head banging to the music. I sat down next to her, “You like this?” I questioned as she nodded.

“Yes! It’s cool!” She chimed as I nodded in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”

I closed my eyes as she kept babbling about something until I heard Vince fucking Neil’s voice on the TV. I opened my eyes to see their music video for ‘Anarchy in the UK’. I sighed deeply when Nikki appeared on the screen before glancing down at Arianna who was amazed by the music. At least she has somewhat of good taste for a toddler. Way better then cheery nursery rhymes on repeat all day.

“Mommy he broke his guitar!” She pointed, “Uncle Tommy?!” And there it was, she made the connection and now it’s time for the question game.

“Mommy! Uncle Tommy is on the TV! Why’s uncle Tommy on the TV? Why do they have long hair? Why do they sound mean? When’s uncle Tommy coming back? Is he going to bring me a toy? Are those uncle Tommy’s friends?”

I smiled down at her, “That’s uncle Tommy’s band. He’s a rockstar and he makes music with those other guys. They have long hair cause they like it And they don’t sound mean, baby. That’s just the type of music it is. It’s rock n roll. And I’m not to sure when he’s coming back, but he’ll let you know don’t worry.”

She giggled, “But only girls can have long hair.”

I shook my head, “No, boys can have long hair too, it’s not just a girl thing.” I corrected her as she nodded.

“Oh, okay! Can we go to school yet?” She questioned as I glanced over to the clock, it was about a quarter after seven.

“Yeah, let’s get a jacket on and we can go.”

After a small traffic jam and me almost loosing my shit with Arianna laughing at the situation in the back seat, we arrived at her preschool. I helped her out of the car as she quickly grabbed my hand as we started walking up the stairs. We walked down a hallway with doors and art work littered across the walls, some teachers gave us a smile while other moms dropping off their kids gave me glares.

I saw Clementine standing at the door greeting other kids as she saw us, “Auntie!” Arianna yelled, letting go of my hand and running to her.

“Hi pumpkin.” She said, picking her up and giving her a hug, “Morning sunshine.” Clem spoke to me as I sent her a glare. I’m just not a morning person.

I knelt down next to Ari, “You know, you can’t call auntie that here. You have to call her Miss Clementine while you’re at school..” I told Arianna as she nodded, “Okay.”

“...cause all the bitchy moms will complain about it.” I whispered to Clem as she giggled.

I walked into the class with them, seeing other kids playing with building blocks and some coloring with the teacher, Miss Jackie. Arianna handed me her jacket, backpack and lunchbox as I gave it to Clem and she immediately went over to a group of kids and started playing with them.

“She’s gonna be fine.” Clementine told me as I nodded quickly.

I was trying to keep the water works from coming, “Van, look at me.” She nudged my arm as I chewed on my bottom lip, staring at her.

“She’s going to be okay here, alright? She’ll be more then ready for kindergarten next year. It’s good for the both of you.”

I rubbed my eyes, “I know, I know.” I smiled when Arianna came over to me. I bent down and fixed her shirt.

“You be good okay? I’ll be back in a few hours and be nice to the other kids. And please share the toys.”

“You can go mommy.” She gave me a kiss and then ran back to her little friends.

“Mommy, you can go now.” Clementine snickered as I rolled my eyes.

I gave Clementine a quick hug before glancing at Arianna one more time before leaving the classroom. Is this how every first day of school is going to be like? My daughter telling me to go away while I am trying not to freak out? But school is good, and Arianna needs to grow mentally and socially.

I sighed as I walked out the door of the school and headed back to my car, “You know this is the unloading zone, right?” I turned around to see a platinum blonde haired woman.

“It’s unloading for a reason, not put it in park and take your child inside.” She continued to bitch at me as I stared at her.

“Lady, I didn’t know. It’s my daughters first day here so back off. There’s no sign saying it’s the unloading zone.” I retorted quickly as she stared at me, pushing her knock off Gucci sunglasses to the top of her head.

“There doesn’t need to be a sign, everyone knows it’s the unloading zone. What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.” She questioned as I leaned against my car and stared at her.

“Vanity, what’s yours?” My voice oozed annoyance and I hoped it would give her the idea to back off, but she didn’t.

“Ginger Thomas, I run the PTA here.” She stuck out her hand, her nails were done cheaply too. I shook her hand and forced a smile.

“Cool, look I gotta-“ “Were having our annual back to school bake sale next week. We encourage all parents to join.”

I went from snorting rails of cocaine and banging rockstars to fucking being apart of the PTA? No thanks.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Me and Arianna have a lot going on next week.” I explained, when in reality there was nothing I just didn’t want to deal with the other moms.

“A child appreciates when the parents are involved, all studies show that.” She told me as I nodded.

“Yeah, Uh…I’ll make cookies for her on my own time. Thanks for the invite.” I smiled at Ginger before stepping into my car and driving away as quick as I could in a school zone.

I decided while Arianna was in school I was gonna stop by a few places and apply for a jab. I knew I would be bored with Arianna being at school for a portion of the day, so a part time job would be fun. I noticed a sign say Daisy’s Gentleman Bar and Grill off the side of a building. I parked my car and headed inside.

I walked through a small corridor before seeing a whole bunch of booths and tables surrounding a stage area that was covered by a red curtain. Not a whole lot of people were in here. Just a group of guys off in the corner smoking and laughing. I looked over at the bar, seeing no one behind it as I pulled out a barstool and sat down.

“Can I help you?” I turned around to see an older red headed woman wearing blue jeans, cowboy boots topped with a blue and red plaid shirt. It made me miss Texas for just a split second.

I stood up and stuck my hand out, “My names Vanity Blackwood and I was wondering if you were hiring for like a waitress or something like that.”

“Daisy Jackson.” She shook my hand before sitting down text to me, “A waitress? With a beautiful face like that you belong on stage.” I furrowed my eyebrows before the gentleman’s bar clicked in my head. I looked back over at the stage and put one and one together. It was a strip club.

“Oh, I don’t- no, I’m not a dancer or a stripper.” I chuckled as she nodded.

“Well no one is born a stripper, sugar. Do you have experience bar tending?” She questioned, but I shook my head.

“I have experience drinking, but not bar tending. I have a lot of experience as a waitress though. My last job, I practically ran the place when my boss wasn’t around.” I explained as she nodded and grabbed two waters for us.

“May I see your resume?” Daisy questioned as I stared at her.

I scratched the top of my head, “Um…I don’t have a resume. I’ve um, only had one job.”

She looked at me like I was strange, “You’re out job hunting and you don’t have a resume?” She let out a laugh, “Wow.”

I frowned, but she spoke up, “Tell me about yourself, Vanity.”

I nodded, “I um…I’m from Dallas but I lived in California for a while before I moved here. I have a three and half year old daughter. I was the head waitress and hostess at a diner in Los Angeles and all my customers always loved me. I’m rather nice and funny as I get along with pretty much anybody I meet. I really like shopping too..” I added a nervous chuckle because by the look on her face I couldn’t tell if she took me serious or not.

“What are your worse qualities?” Daisy questioned me.

“Um, my mouth gets me in trouble sometimes-“ Daisy let out a laugh, “Me too, sweetie.”

“And sometimes I loose my cool but I’m usually level headed. I’m really blunt and some people don’t like that as well.” I added on as she just nodded.

“So you could handle handsy drunks?”

I nodded, “Oh definitely. I have a lot of experience with that.” I blurted out as she tilted her head to the side in a confused manner.

“Uh…I mean…I use to party a lot so I know how people can get when they are extremely intoxicated.” I quickly added on as she nodded.

“Well, you have a cute little face and a interesting personality and I’m sure you’re trainable. Can you start tonight?”

My eyes widened, “Tonight? I would prefer hours during the day…” I trailed off as she smirked.

“If you can’t tell, we aren’t busy in the day. I don’t need another girl in the day time, only at night. Those are our busiest and best hours. You’ll be walking away with a lot of tips. The hours are from eleven to four in the morning when the bar closes.”

I thought about it for a moment. I’m sure I could find a babysitter for Arianna or I’m sure Clementine would be more then willing to stay the night.

“It’s only three days a week, so it’s not much. But you’ll make up for it in tips.” She continued as I shrugged.

“I don’t care about the money, but yeah. I guess I could start tonight.”

“Good, wear something sexy and I’ll see you at-“

“Hey Daisy! Where did you want these boxes again?” I looked over seeing a buzzed cut blonde haired dude holding a few boxes. I took a second glance when I saw his neck tattoo.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you were talking to someone.” He smiled at me, eyes drifting down my body and then back to me, “Have we met?”

“Jason, this is Vanity. She’s gonna start working here tonight as a bartender. You can put those on the back counter for me. Vanity, this is Jason. He’s a bouncer here.”

I nodded, his eyes narrowing at me “You look so familiar.” He chuckled as he left the boxes where she had asked, “Hey, Paul is asking for you.” He told Daisy as she rolled her eyes.

“Never work with your husband. I’ll see you tonight Vanity.” She patted my shoulder and went to the back.

I turned my attention to Jason as he was already looking at me, “You don’t remember me do you?” I asked with a bit of a laugh in my voice.

He sat down next to me, smiling “As much as I love to remember pretty chicks, I’m afraid I don’t remember…”

I shook my head, “It’s okay. Um, we met at a club a while ago you Uh…you gave me blow.” I whispered that part to him as the wheels in his head started turning.

“Oh! At Ivys! That’s right, that blue haired chick and that guy who I swear was Tommy Lee barged in. You never called me.” He pretended to pout as I chuckled.

“Yeah, he gets that a lot.” I smirked, “Yeah sorry about that. That blue haired chick kinda threw a fit over me doing blow.”

He nodded, “Well, you’re here now. I’m looking forward to seeing you from now on.” Jason rested just hand on my lower back as I smiled at him.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

*Later that evening*

“A…strip club? Vanity, can’t you get a normal job?” Clementine questioned me as we sat at my dining table while she painted and Arianna watched cartoons.

“I’m just gonna be a bartender! Not a stripper it’s totally fine.” I retorted as she sighed.

“What are the hours? During school hours?” She questioned as I smiled and took a sip of my water.

“Well, thats what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s only eleven to four in the morning for three nights…so I was wondering if you would consider staying on those nights. I’d pay you of course.”

She looked up from her sketchbook, “Vanity, really? You took an overnight job? What am I suppose to do on those mornings when I have to be at the school?” She asked as I shrugged.

“I mean obviously you can sleep too. She sleeps during the night so I’m not worried about that. She’ll be good for you, you know that! And I’ll tell her I’m just going to work and I’ll be back before she wakes up.” I clarified as she sighed.

“Tonight?” She groans as I nodded, “Okay, okay fine I’ll be her babysitter.” I squealed and gave her a huge hug.

“I swear, you better not turn into like an alcoholic being a bartender or whatever.” 

[frekydeki]

Cupid Can’t Fall in Love

Part 1

Summary: (AU) Eternal and true love is a business transaction for you. Soulmates are simply two file folders tied together with a golden bow. But when eight folders come across your desk, your job gets a little bit stickier with each passing day. Being a Cupid isn’t so easy as it sounds...

Pairing: (Jihyun x Reader) 

| Part 1 | Part 2: Upcoming 

It’d be beautiful. The golden grass, the falling sun, the gentle and warm wind, the serene silence… It would all be so beautiful if he wasn’t staring into your eyes so tearfully. You trace your eyes over his blue hair and follow the line of his jaw, then his neck, over his collar bone and to his heart. Your e/c eyes widen to the size of the moon; a glowing arrow burns frantically in his chest. You harshly draw in a breath and smack your hand over your own arrow, hammering in your heart.

         You can’t process the tear trailing down your cheek as you turn your eyes away and up to the scattered clouds in the sky. Why? How did this happen? It’s got to be a mistake…

         It’d all be so beautiful… If only you could fall in love.

         How… Did it come to this?

Working for Aphrodite isn’t the most exciting employment option. When you were first born, you took a little bit more to your father’s side, preferring to kick ass here and there. But after a run-in with a seething Achille’s, – you told Zeus to just kill the guy but he insisted you talk it out – you got your butt kicked so bad that even Ares himself worried over you. Your mom said your warrior days were over that day. Nobody defies the word of Aphrodite, after all, and that’s why you’re holed up in this stupid office. Battle armor feels much more natural than the pencil skirt and blouse you’re wearing, but this is what you have now; platform heels, scrunchies, paper cuts, and the sound of typing like chinese water torture to your ears. Lucky you, though! You’ve put in your two millennia to get a personal office, away from all the typing and scratching on parchment; its maybe one of your greatest achievements in the past two thousand years since Aphrodite and Ares put you on the bench.

         This tiny little office is your hell a little bit away from hell, you like to say. You still have mental break downs and panic attack under your desk, and you’ve forgotten what wood your desk is made out of; but at least you get some damn silence. Except for the obnoxious banging on your door that’s happening right now. Is it eight already? The dread of a thousand punished souls in the underworld escapes from your lips in a groan; you barely even filed the cases you finished yesterday. Nevertheless, you roll in your rock hard chair – Hera was kind enough to make you a small cushion, even if it looks like a grandma’s afgan turned cushion, you and your butt love it – to swing your door open at a dangerous speed.

         The young blonde before you smiles and points towards the soft close door.

         “Isn’t it great Ares installed those personally for you?” Her raspy voice sputters to you quickly. Her scrawny finger then points to the coffee mug in your hand, “Hey, is that coffee.”

         “Yeah, what el-“ Your hand becomes lighter as she snatches it from you and takes a long swig.

         “I haven’t slept in like three days,” She babbles to you as she puts the coffee back into your hand and turns to the cart littered with folders, “Finals are next week and I haven’t studied all semester.” You’ve grown used to the incessant mumbling that Angelia lets loose every morning while handing in your cases… She’s like this every week, even without finals. “Becoming a god sure isn’t easy work!” She loudly laughs before continuing on about offerings and the rules of appearing to humans.

         “You know, Angelia, if you didn’t spend all of your time programming social media sites for humans, you’d be able to get your work done.”

         “How else is a messenger god supposed to stay relevant? Dad already does all the messaging between gods, so there’s no work for a dumb college god like me.”

         “You’re in college… That’s your job right now.” Your lidded eyes meet hers as she blows a loose strand of curly hair from her face and drops two folders onto your lap.

         “Yeah but I’ll disappear if I loose followers.”

         “No. You won’t. You’re a god born of two gods, not a god born of need. There’s a clear difference. We survive whether or not humans worship us individually. Plus there’s other jobs for gods to do other than meddling and fucking around.”

         “Yeah but I wanna be a messenger god!” She whines as she drops four more folders onto your lap. “Only eight new assignments today. Lucky you.”

         “L… Lucky me?” You screech at her. “I already have two hundred and eighty- eight active cases!” She surrenders her hands and pursues her lips at you.

         “I don’t decide who gets what cases.”

         “Yeah but you could also maybe throw in a word to Aphrodite and be like, ‘Yeah, boss, don’t you think MC already has enough assignments right now?’ You know, maybe stick your neck out for a friend once in a while?” Angelia continues to stack cases on your lap, unphased by the explosive temper you let loose every morning, and you keep on crying up to her, “Are you listening to me Angelia? I’m drowning in stress right now! If I were a nymph I would’ve shriveled up and died three hundred years ago.” With your pouting expression and whiney voice, you can be compared to a kid whose mom put her favorite cereal back on the shelf.

         “But you’re not a nymph. Yay! You won’t shrivel up and die.”

         “But if I were a nymph I would have. Doesn’t that concern you? I could die!”

         “Gods don’t die.”

         “Yes we do!” You snap up to her grinning face, “And the leading cause is stress!” The over caffeinated girl isn’t moved by your whining, so you switch to a bargaining strategy quickly.

          “Okay, hear me out,” You begin with a lowered voice, “Maybe if you just slip these onto someone else’s desk, and then pretend that you didn’t notice when Aphrodite asks you “What the hell?” By then that Cupid would have already started the assignment so there’d be no point in bothering me to do it.” Angelia drops the last heavy file folder on your lap and shakes her head. You blink as the weight of your coffee is lifted from your hand again.

         “No can do, my friend.” She begins as she sips loudly from your coffee mug, before her face scrunches, “Too much creamer.” Angelia puts the mug back in your hand, all the while you watch her with eyes the size of the moon; is she serious right now? Of course you know there’s too much creamer in there; you just had a late morning so for all you care she can take her scrutiny and shove it. “Anyways, Aphrodite and Eros both said - very strictly, I might add - that these files are meant for your hands only. Anyways, I’m only part time, here. That all is way above my pay grade.”

         “Angelia,” You suck in a heavy breath through your nose to try and curb your frustrations with the shrugging girl before you say, “You suck.” At that, she laughs heartily. She giggles her good-bye to you over the sound of her clicking heels as she moves to give the next guy his shackles for the day. “Hey!” She turns over her shoulder to acknowledge your head poking out of your office, “You tell Aphrodite that if I get any more cases this week I’m going to go ahead and fall in love, ya hear?”

“Yeah, right. Someone like you, fall in love?” She snorts, “Not even Eros would take that assignment.” You lift your lip, eyebrows pinching together, and shout back to her:

“Go bother someone else… I’m gonna be here all night because of you.” She waves and smiles pleasantly, which you return half-heartedly. The door shuts gently, and you groan back over to your desk.

         Eight files don’t sound like much to the human ear, but these files hold every single aspect of the subject’s life, so it looks like the holy bible. It’s not that you mind the read all that much – it’s like a nice little short story – but it’s the paperwork and scheming that you hate with every fiber of your explosive being. You look to the mirror hanging on your wall after glancing through one of the files – these were all a little bit bigger than the normal case – and decide to put your work order in for their vial’s early; it’s going to take a while to gather their life essence. You grab a drachma and turn it about in your hand as you scribble the eight names onto separate blue ribbons.

         “Ánoixe.” You cough, watching the solid mirrors surface begin rippling like water after a stone is thrown into it. “Eudorus.” The rippling increases before orange begins to reflect in the mirror; it slowly stops to reveal the freckled and smiling face of your good buddy. “How are you this fine morning?”

         “Don’t play coy with me, MC. I know you’re only here to give me more work.” Your lips snap shut before you laugh lightly.

         “I’m sorry. I usually wouldn’t bother you about it until tomorrow but… I just got eight new assignments and they’re really big files. I thought I’d give you a head start on getting their essence for me.”

         “Eight!” He cries at you, his freckled cheeks becoming red and eyes watering. “You’re already drowning in work already!” He purses his lips and puffs his cheeks as he mumbles under his breath, “Mom really has to stop giving you so much work. You’ll keel over soon because of lack of sleep.”

         “Can you do this for me? I’ll buy you dinner tonight?” He smiles at you.

         “I’d do it even if you didn’t offer food, but since you did you can’t take it back now. Give me the ribbons and I’ll give ‘em to you at dinner.” You push your hand through the mirror, flinching as the humid air of his workplace gathers to your hand.

         “How do you even breathe in there Eudorus? It’s so humid.”

         “You get used to it after a little.” He stops as he eyes you, his lips parted and brows slack in what you can only dreadfully identify as one thing; concern. “Are you getting enough sleep, MC?”

         “With all these cases on my desk, I can’t afford sleep.”

         “We might be gods and all, but we need our sleep just like the humans.” You grin as you roll your eyes playfully.

         “You’re starting to sound like Apollo.”

         “If he sees you like this MC he’s going to tear you a new one about taking care of yourself, and you know he’s going to crack down on your eating habits! You’re worse than Hades sometimes…”

         “I know, I know… I’ll just avoid him at all costs.” Your half-brother grins at you before he waves the ribbons held lightly in his smooth hands.

         “I better get to work on theses. And you better to, if you want to cut down on those piles on your desk.”

         “You’re right. Have a good one, Eudorus.”

         “Yeah, you too.” You watch as your red-headed brother disappears, and the mirror hardens again. Staring at your reflection, you realize you really do look like you’re on your deathbed. Your skin is a shade or two lighter from its usual hue, hair messily tossed into a bun, your bags much more prominent, and lips pulled down in a frown much more than usual. You look away quickly, recalling Angelia’s words from earlier…

         “Yeah, right! Someone like you, fall in love?” You stare critically at the stack of finished reports you need to put in their rightful files; you will never have one of these for yourself… It’s strictly off limits for you as a Cupid. If you fall in love, you lose your job. Sometimes it makes you mad, other times sad, and some rare times, you’re glad.

         Filing cases is the easy part of your job; all the hard work’s done, now all that’s left is topping off the paired folders with golden ribbons and filing them into your large bookshelf for review and approval by Eros. Eros, that sleaze. It’s been at least a millennium since you went through the trouble of pairing him with Psyche and he still has the nerve to waltz into your office and flirt with you shamelessly. Plus, he gets to keep his job despite being head over heels for his wife; who cares if he’s a primordial? He should be held to the same standards as everyone else!

         That’s not what matters at the moment though, you guess. Getting these cases off of your desk is the priority! You managed to close thirty cases last night, so you just need to focus on getting them all patched up nicely. You glance to the new files on your desk; once this is done you can stick your nose into the new assignments. 

         “Is this a joke, mom?” Saying you sounded as loud as Zeus when he and Hades butted heads would almost do a disservice to your anger. You are livid, fuming, downright insane with rage. Her beautiful violet eyes snap up to your own as she gracefully pushes her blonde hair from her face and folds her hands in front of her.

         “Is what a joke, MC?” Most of the time, her voice would’ve calmed you down to the point of rational thought, but not today. You’re ready to body slam her into Tartarus. You wave the files frantically in front of you and drop them onto her desk, eyes on fire and steam running out of your ears. You’re an Ares level threat right now.

         “What the hell are these assignments?” You screech. Opening the top folder you drop the picture of the blonde on her neat, tidy desk. “Yoosung Kim, 21, college student. He’s fucked up right now, mom. He recently lost his cousin, who, might I add, is also one of these files. How the fuck am I supposed to make a dead woman fall in love? And how the hell am I supposed to make someone like Yoosung fall in love while he is like this?” She opens her mouth to respond but you slap another picture in front of her. “Jumin Han, 26, an executive who doesn’t know the half of relationships and trusting another person. I can’t work with this yet! And don’t you even get me started on Saeran and Saeyong, have you even looked through these files? And Jihyun? What the fuck is going on with this guy?” You feel a large hand plop down on your shoulder. A growl nearly comes from you as you look up to your father, his yellow eyes telling you to try and calm down. “Well when the hell did you get here?”

         “I was here the whole time MC. You just marched in, ready for the kill.”

         “Well if she wouldn’t hand me such bullshit cases on top of all my other cases I wouldn’t feel like murdering everyone on this damn mountain!” Ares chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement.

         “You sure are my daughter, but you’re almost worse than me. What have I always told you, little soldier?” Your mouth draws into a thin line, before you mumble your response so lowly that no one could understand you. “No matter how hard it gets, it is your duty, and so you shall finish it.”

         “It could also be Eros’ duty. Or Agata! She only has like, ten assignments right now.”

         “Yes, my dear. But Agata is also very new to working as a Cupid.”

         “She’s been in the department for two hundred years!”

         “These cases require experience and power greater than that of a two hundred-year-old nymph.” You draw your lips into a thin line and eye your mother critically. What the hell does she expect you to do with this? You’re originally a war goddess. You were meant to fight, not shoot people with metaphorical arrows and make sure they fall head over heels with each other!

         “This is the life you have now, MC.” Ares begins, for like, the millionth time this month. You grind your teeth and step away from him. You know that you have to content yourself with working in a quiet office, watching others fall in love, constantly typing on a computer, wearing these stupid pencil skirts and bows…

         “But I hate wearing these damn heels!” Is all you can screech, childishly. Aphrodite giggles as she stands and walks to you.

         “But they make you look so beautiful.” You send a harsh glare up to her; of course, she doesn’t even flinch cause your glares are as harmless to her as a feather is to a rock. “I trust you to handle these assignments better than anyone working here… Even myself. I wouldn’t have given them to you otherwise.”

         “How do you suggest I start these, then?”

         “Drink their essence and see what they need.”

         “I’m not a damned therapist.”

         “Hear, hear!” Ares uselessly calls as he resumes his seat on the couch. He shrinks a little when Aphrodite sends him a harsh, menacing glare; if there’s one thing all the gods have learned, it’s that Aphrodite – and possibly Persephone – are the scariest when they get mad.

         “Yes, but you will know where to go. I can assure you.” You puff out your cheeks and cross your arms.

         “Fine, but you owe me three weeks of vacation since I can’t go next week anymore!” You hiss as you take the files she’d gathered in her hands before you even simmered down – it’s like she knew she’d win you over – and stomp to the door. “I had tickets to the premier of the new marvel movie! Do you know how expensive those are?” You cry, ready to slam the door shut, but giving your mom one more, half-hearted stare.

         “You’re a goddess, sweetheart. You have an endless supply of money.”

         “That doesn’t mean I want to waste it!” And you move to slam the door shut, but it slows just at the end. You swear your eyeballs set on fire as you realize that your father installed yet another soft close door because of you.

         What’s your plan? Dive in head-first and get blind-sided at every corner like Zeus? No way, just thinking about that has you ready to start another war. You need a plan, a good plan, and as much information as you can get. Meaning you’re going to have to work with their guardians. Pompous, inconsiderate, above the law shit heads is what guardians are. In your millenniums, you’ve avoided most, if not all, contact with them. You don’t work well with big heads; they always mess things up because they’re always right, narrow-sighted, and rash. Add to that the state that these wards are in, you can’t imagine these guardians will be the best help… But you’ve got to take whatever you can get.

         And that’s why you’re sitting at a large table of seven guardians, enjoying a measly meal of chicken tenders and fries; ambrosia is too damn expensive these days. But you suppose that as the times have changed, your offerings and followers have fallen to a measly, absolute zero. No worshippers? No ambrosia. It’s a good way to stir up some envy here on Olympus.

         “So, what do you need, Cupid?”

         “I need to know about your wards.” You sigh as you plant a folder in front of each guardian. You point to the empty chair and raise your brow, “Where’s Mina’s guardian?”

         “Uh, she’s out on sick leave.”

         “I thought you guys were invincible?”

         “Well, after all the times she’s worked, I’m sure she needs a break for a little.” Aeneas snaps at you. You roll your eyes; guardians were specifically designed to do everything but need a break. You’d have to check in with Zeus later to see what the hell is going on with her.

         “Okay, whatever.” Continuing, you decide to get straight to the point, “Tell me everything you know about your wards. Why are they in the state they’re in?”

         “Some wards are harder to guide than others.” Jac gently speaks. You look to the soft-featured man, nodding your head. You know that… You’ve always treasured Jac as a guardian, he’s one of the few to look at you on equal grounds.

         “I know. I’m sorry if it felt like I jabbed at you. Could you all maybe explain to me what you’ve learned does or doesn’t work with these wards?”

         “Of course… We’ll do as much as we can to help…”

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [8/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/48475991

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #secrets

First Chapter

Author's Note: So the action scene I was writing became long and unwieldy and complicated, and threw off my planned chapter ending, so I had to put some filler. I hope you guys don't mind some Batfam chatter in its place. I'll try to get to the meaty action scene soon. ________________________________________________________________

Tim gets out of his shower at the Nest, reaching for his phone before his towel. The digital numbers tell him he hasn’t been away from the manor for more than an hour; Jason should still be okay.

When Tim left, the older man was sleeping like a log. He didn’t even stir when Tim tripped and accidentally knocked into his display of Gundam models. That’s a bit concerning—everyone in the family has been trained to sleep lightly and react to any inexplicable shift or creak in a room.

Clearly the infection’s taking it out of him…

He towels off, struggles into his gear and applies the spirit gum to keep his mask in place, then checks his phone again. Another ten minutes have passed.

It’s fine. Jason will be fine. There’s still time to get back.

He’s finding it a bit nerve-wracking, being Jason’s anchor; knowing that right now he’s the only one able to call back his mind if it meanders into self-destructive obsession. It constantly lingers on the edge of his mind that he can’t keep this up forever.

Eventually Jason will be beyond his reach if they don’t get the diviners back. And even if—when—they get them back, will Tim be able to just resume the way things were before?

He grips the edge of the counter beside the shower, forcing himself to breathe. He can’t let himself go there.

Table that problem until after Jason’s safe.

He straightens up and heads for the holding cell, where he finds Eros sitting cross-legged on his cot, wings out and hands wrapped around one of the edges of a painting Tim brought from upstairs. Insubstantial golden threads collect around his fingers and the canvas, like a spider’s web, but pulsing.

After several moments, the glow disappears, and Eros cracks an eye open. “Will wonders never cease—you let me finish this time.”

“You’re not leaving bodily fluids this time,” Tim retorts, and hurries to cut off whatever smart-ass comment is imminent. “We may have found the person who took your bow and arrows. We’re not a hundred percent sure, but it’s looking that way.”

Eros tosses the painting to one side, eyes gleaming. “That’s excellent news! Who was it?”

“Her name’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Never heard of her,” Eros says immediately.

Tim sighs, and brings up the holographic screen of his arm-computer; it projects a three-dimensional image of Cutter’s military file. A thin-faced woman with auburn hair and green eyes.

Eros blinks and then points a finger. “Hey! Clingy Redhead!”

Well, now that we have a definite connection…

“She also goes by Cupid,” Tim says, half-expecting to get another rant on appropriating the names of ancient Greek mythological figures.

Instead, Eros snorts and says, “Well, she’s welcome to the name, but I want my shit back.”

“How did she even manage to steal them from you to begin with?”

“I was really stoned?”

“You’re sure that’s all?” Tim presses. “There’s no way she could have had help from a god or someone who knows a lot about gods?”

Eros scratches his chin. “Well, I mean, anything’s possible.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Who in your family has a grudge against you?”

“Do you want the alphabetical or chronological list?”

“True. You’ve ticked off a lot of people in the past. From what I’ve read, things don’t really turn out all that well for the people you help.”

“I take offense to that!” Eros complains. “Any time I’ve genuinely joined souls fated to be together, there’s been nothing but happiness. The only time my matches have gotten twisted is when some divine prima donna gets their perizoma in a bunch and interferes.”

“Which brings us back to there probably being a god involved in all this. It would help to know which one.”

“There are usually signs, if you look hard enough for them.”

“What exactly do you think we’re trying to do?”

“No, I mean…” Eros folds his arms, thoughtful. “Every Olympian—every god that I’ve ever heard of, anyway—has a signature. Something they’re drawn to, habits that don’t just vanish over the centuries. Symbols they’re drawn to, whether they notice it or not.”

“We would have noticed in any of the crime reports by now.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It might be completely obscure. Like I said, we don’t always notice when we do it. If you find anything even resembling a pattern, let me know what it is. I might recognize it.”

“You didn’t recognize it when you were getting robbed.”

“I—was—stoned—!”

And that’s as far as we’re getting with that avenue.

Tim glances at his phone again; there’s still time. “Going back over everything again and trying to find symbols that might possibly be related? It might take longer than we have—I’m on a deadline here.”

“You could always just summon this Cupid woman.”

“If it were that easy, the government would have figured out how to do it ages ago. She’s trained specifically to avoid detection. There’s a reason we only found traces of her days after she’s been in a given location.”

“I don’t mean just pick up the phone and call her or satellite stalk her or whatever you capes do,” Eros dismisses, “I mean use the summoning spell for my bow and arrows.”

Silence rings.

I…did not just hear what I think I heard, did I?

Tim counts to ten. Twice. And then does it in Cantonese for good measure.

“I lose you there somewhere, pretty boy?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Tim replies, expounding far more concentration that he should be keeping his voice level. “You just arbitrarily decide, ‘hey, you look sufficiently frustrated, so now I’ll come up with some pearl of wisdom I could have shared earlier’, don’t you?”

“Screw you, birdboy, I don’t make the rules!” Eros spits. “I’m not a Magic-Ball, here to answer you whenever you humans come a-knockin’. Do you have any idea how much trouble that caused way back when?” Eros adopts a falsetto. “Oh, high-crowned goddess of love, woe is me, I’m a rich and spoiled daddy’s boy and can’t get no respect! Please steal the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world for me! Oh, most feared goddess of retribution, the boy I like rejected me, so after I kill myself, make him fall in love with his reflection so he starves to death while feasting on the sight of himself!” Eros shoots Tim an irritated glare. “You really think we came up with that crap? Trust me, things were a hell of a lot worse when we just up and did everything for you. And then, when you hairless apes realized we weren’t giving you everything you wanted anymore, you stopped paying tribute to us and jumped on the hobo carpenter bandwagon.”

“I’m Jewish,” Tim replies, unimpressed with the tangent.

“Yeah, well, so was he. Anyway. Do you know how many Olympians have wasted away when people stopped believing in them? Point it, we had to get used to holding back. Give a human the answers without them having to work for it, and you get Hiroshima.”

“Fine, whatever,” Tim growls. “How do we summon the bow and arrow.”

“Weren’t you listening? A spell.”

“We’re not big on magic around here.”

“Tough noogies. Do you want to know what to do, or not?”

“Get on with it.”

“Right. So first, you need a rose—”

“A rose? Now I know you’re messing with me.”

“Roses are my symbol, asshat, and they act as an instrument of grounding when channeling my will,” Eros snaps, causing Tim to hold his hands up in surrender. “Right, so get a rose and sharpen its stem to a point. Get Helmet Head and join hands with him, and he has to say—”

“Hold on. Go back—Red Hood has to be here for this?” Tim interrupts. He’s not sure that’s a good idea, considering the circumstances.

“Of course he has to be there, he’s the key to making the spell work.” Eros says slowly, like he’s talking to someone intellectually slow. “He’s the one who desires you most in the world, which is a powerful spell component. And he’s the only one in the world right now that has my blood running in his veins. Since I can’t be let out of this glass cage of yours, he’s the only other choice.”

Tim rubs his temples; of the two options, Jason is better than letting Eros free. “And naturally there’s blood involved…”

“All magic has a price,” Eros agrees. “Now, you have to get him to speak these words—” He grabs one of the nearby magazines and a pen, then scrawls something on the cover, “—and then you have to pierce both your palms with the rose. Wait until the blood stops flowing, and then use what falls in place to mark my symbol in the earth.”

He shoves the magazine through the hatch in the wall, and Tim frowns at the note. “This doesn’t look like Greek.”

“It’s not. More proto-Greek. Close to what the Minoans spoke.”

“The problem here being that no one knows what the Minoans spoke, least of all us.”

“Tall, Dark and Angry can read it. Consider it a perk of being infected with my blood.”

“Maybe the only one,” Tim mutters.

“Once the spell is complete, it will act as a beacon or magnet that draws the diviners to the symbol. And thus the one wielding them, wherever they are.”

“No offense, but this is ridiculous. It’s like something out of an episode of Charmed.”

“For your sake I hope you’re talking about the original and not the remake,” Eros sniffs.

“If you always had this spell in your back pocket, why didn’t you cast it when you realized your bow and arrows were missing?”

Eros’ expression becomes cold marble again. “The one who desired me most in the world is gone, remember?”

Tim frowns. “You’re the god of love. You could get anyone to desire you.”

“It doesn’t work like that, darlin’,” Eros smiles bitterly. “There’s a special kind of person for that to work, to activate the power of my blood. Someone with pure conviction, and that’s a rare trait to find. By the time I might track down someone like that…well, let’s just say it’s lucky for everyone that your brawny boy toy got tagged, because he’s got it.”

Tim can’t really argue with that, because Jason has conviction in spades. Even years later, he has never wavered in his dedication to his own version of Bruce’s mission, even if it’s at odds with what Batman stands for. He has no qualms about crossing lines if he must, and still believes himself to be in the right.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you that,” he allows grudgingly. “But that still leaves the problem of taking out Cutter herself. She’s no slouch, considering her training, and I doubt she’s going to want to give up her new toys without a fight.”

“What a shame you don’t know a bunch of people who regularly dress up in spandex and deal with this kind of thing all the time,” Eros drawls.

Tim rolls his eyes and wanders away and keys in Batman’s call sign to his comm. He knows Bruce isn’t going to like any of this, but he might be able to offer some perspective.

“B? You busy?”

“No.” The voice crackles in his ear. “Returning to Gotham now; I’m just over the Atlantic.”

“Find anything?”

“Yes. Your information on Cupid helped.”

“So did any other customer see her?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know. The coffeeshop has been shut down.”

Tim blinks, going over that information once more in his head. “What? Why?”

“Potential health concerns. Within the past week, three people fell into comas while visiting the shop,” Batman informs him. “There’s concern in the city of a possible outbreak.”

“That…wasn’t in any of my research.”

“The authorities only shut it down today, and the shop hasn’t been named in the media.”

“And how did knowing about Cupid help then?”

“I tracked down the barista. She remembered her.”

“So she was definitely there,” Tim says, breathing out in relief. Finally, something.

“Yes. And when I went to examine the scene, I found something on the bottom of a cup.”

“A…cup.”

“Yes. If there were an actual contagion spreading from the shop, chances are it would be passed via utensils or dishes.” Batman pauses, and then grants, “It took a while.”

“So what did you find?”

“A Svefnthorn.”

“A what?”

“An Asgardian formula to sink someone into a deep sleep. It’s their version of Stygian Sleep, but it wouldn’t work permanently on an Olympian. Different magic, different rules. But it would be strong enough to put something like Eros enough of a stupor that he wouldn’t notice the theft of his diviners.”

“And not many people would know that,” Tim muses.

“No.”

“I don’t know about you, B, but I’m leaning more and more toward the idea that Cupid’s got a god backing her.”

Tim gives a quick explanation of his conversation with Eros, as well as his method to track the bow and arrow.

“Convenient of him to mention it now,” Batman remarks in a neutral tone.

“That’s what I figured.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Figured that, too.”

“Wait until I return. We’ll decide how to make our move then. We need to be prepared—you can’t go into this blind.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, even though he doesn’t want to wait longer than he must. “See you when you get back.”

“Acknowl—”

Bruce’s comm suddenly cuts off, and Barbara’s voice snaps in his ear, “Red Robin, get back to Red Hood now.”

Tim’s heart leaps into his throat. “What happened? Is he okay? He’s supposed to be sleeping—”

“Well, he woke up. I was able to keep him on the line for about fifteen minutes before he stopped responding.”

Tim stumbles as he runs toward the garage. “Is he—?”

“He’s still putting out bio-signals. I sent Jeeves and Robin to check on him, but you need to be here yesterday.”

“On my way.”

For the second time in two days, Tim is racing toward the Batcave, a pit in his stomach.

I’m a moron. I shouldn’t have been away for so long. I should have called Bruce when I was already on the way, I should have just asked Eros questions without reacting, like I was trained to do, instead of bitching at him about a stupid spell. Get in, get the information, move on.

When he arrives at the manor, Alfred isn’t there to greet him, which sends alarm bells ringing in his mind. Taking the steps to the second floor two at a time, he doesn’t pause until he passes the bathroom outside of Bruce’s study.

Alfred is leaning over Damian, cleaning and dressing a bloody wound on the boy’s head.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, more breathless than he should be.

“Language, Master Timothy,” Alfred chides, unflappable as always. When Damian swears as he presses an alcohol swab to the wound, he adds, “And you too, Master Damian. I would rather this not need actual stitches.”

“I’ll live,” Damian snaps, jerking his head out of Alfred’s reach and glaring at Tim. “Todd’s losing it. He was becoming unruly again and Pennyworth and attempted to help him. Then he threw an alarm clock at me.”

“And you didn’t dodge it?” Tim cries, hurrying off.

“I was—I was attempting to shield Pennyworth from taking the brunt of it to the face!” Damian shouts after him, but Tim doesn’t dwell on something he would normally tease the boy about.

Now that he knows there’s nothing major, he needs to get to his room.

Tim returns to find Jason sitting on the floor in his room, pressing himself into the wall the same way he was doing with the holding cell. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at the strands in agitation; his entire scalp and forehead an angry red at the irritation and he’s knocking his head against the wall just shy of the force needed for a concussion.

Tim practically vaults over his bed to crouch in front of Jason, grabbing his hands away from his hair. He notices they’re bleeding, hangnails and dry skin picked and scratched open.

“Jason…Jason, I’m here. I’m sorry.” Jason’s expression loses some of its distant, frantic mania. “I had to speak to Eros. I really thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.” He swallows back the nauseous feeling creeping up his throat. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”

Jason blinks a few more times, clutching back at Tim’s hands as though to ground himself; it takes a bit before clarity returns to his eyes.

“I knew you were coming back,” he says shakily. “I mean…I did. But I didn’t? I couldn’t stop thinking you weren’t coming back. Even though I knew…” He trails off, gives a manic chuckle. “I mean, fuck, this is your room. This is your house, obviously you’d be coming back, but…” This time Tim can’t tell if the sound is meant to be a bitter laugh or choked sob. “I’m going crazy here, babybird.”

Cold, angry fury suffuses Tim’s body at how broken he sounds. At the fact that Jason Todd—the Robin he idolized, the one that’s always had to duck life’s hardest curveballs, the one that makes the hard decisions, who is supposed to be strong and fierce and good—is being reduced to this. Right before Tim’s eyes.

He’s vulnerable right now not because he actually trusts Tim, but because something is making him. Something is turning him into a victim.

At which point Tim makes a decision.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re getting out of here,” Tim insists, trying to tug Jason to his feet.

“Uh, that’s probably one of your worse ideas,” the other man replies cautiously, resisting the pull. “I’ll be fine. I mean, you’re here now.”

Tim’s heart clenches.

“Yeah. Right now I’m here.” What happens the next time he leaves though? But seeing Jason’s reluctance, he sighs. “Okay, Jason, it’s your choice. We’ll stay here until B gets here. Should be a few hours still. You can recover, and then we’ll all go together.”

“Where?”

“I might have a way to get the bow and arrows. Tonight,” Tim explains. “B wants to wait until he gets here for back-up, but—”

Jason stumbles to his feet, practically dragging Tim up with him. “No way. Let’s go. Right now.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, and I’m not waiting another minute if I don’t have to!” Jason snaps.

“But he was right, we probably will need back-up.”

“I’ve got all the back-up I need,” Jason insists, tugging Tim close by the shoulder, “Now come on, I need to get my helmet.”

⁂

Tim, paranoid freak that he is, isn’t keen on busting in on Cupid just the two of them and without an actual plan. Despite Jason’s confidence that they could easily take out someone like Carrie Cutter together, mystical weapons or not (and hell, he’s got mystical weapons too, if it comes down to it), Tim insists on being responsible and summons whatever Bats are still in the city to coordinate an actual impromptu sting.

Damian is already in the cave when they arrive, changing into his uniform. Jason grins at him. “No hard feelings about nearly braining you, right?”

“Tt. I look forward to you regaining all your faculties,” the kid retorts. “It will make beating you within an inch of your life that much more enjoyable.”

“Geeze, kid, you could just say you’re going to kill me. Fewer words.”

“Master Damian has already reached his weekly allotment of death threats,” Alfred remarks in a mild voice as he checks a line of tranquilizer rifles. “Any further instances and he will not be permitted to visit with Master Jonathan this weekend.”

Damian bristles at the word ‘permitted’ but doesn’t argue beyond a mutinous scowl.

Jason whistles appreciatively, both at the implicit power Alfred has over the kid (and let’s face it, the entire family), and the collection of sedatives laid out on the table. The concentrations range from human-sized targets to someone of Wonder Woman’s constitution. Since there’s no way of knowing whether Cupid intends to show up alone or with her divine ringer, Tim maintained that it was better to be safer than sorry.

Jason is eager to get out, tired of waiting and antsy. His skin itches, which has been a symptom ever since this whole infection thing began. As he rubs at his neck, he tries not to feel like he’s being pulled in a million different directions. He wants so many things right now—a fight where he doesn’t have to hold back, a cold shower, to sleep for eight hours, to run his fingers through Tim’s hair—

Jason shakes himself.

At least one of those things is imminent, so he decides to focus on that.

Finding Carrie Cutter and taking her out. Getting Eros’ diviners so he can get himself back to his normal level of screwed-up. Leaving Gotham in his rear-view long enough that he won’t have trouble looking anyone in the eye for a wile.

That he won’t have trouble looking Tim in the eye for a while.

The cave seems less claustrophobic this time around.

Jason attributes that to the fact he’s not locked in a giant glass box like a creature at a zoo. Also, the conspicuous lack of looming disapproval that is Bruce Wayne.

“Remember, Jason—non-lethal,” Tim says as Jason they both go through the routine gear and weapons’ check before suiting up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason replies, reaching around Tim to grab a few extra flash grenades; he doesn’t need to draw his arm along the length of Tim’s shoulders, or lean into him a half second longer than acceptable, but it’s a small comfort after his recent attack of paranoia. “Not like B would have left anything capable of doing actual lasting damage, since my stuff’s been sitting out here nice and open the past few days.”

“Lethal and doing lasting damage are two different things.”

“Not in B’s mind.”

“He knows there’d be no point to removing or tampering with your things. You have enough caches around Gotham to replace anything he might take.”

Jason shoots him a suspicious glance. “And how do you know that?”

Tim smirks at him, and Jason’s heart stutters.

That expression’s been turned on him before, but usually he’s just done something to piss the other vigilante off. This time, it’s almost conspiratorial, like he and Jason are in on the same joker. And holy hell, that should not be as hot to him as it is.

Eros’ blood. Supernatural roofie. I wouldn’t actually think so under normal circumstances.

But a niggling thought at the back of his head thinks that even once he gets cured, his mind is going to go directly back to that if Tim ever turns that look on him again.

The sound of tires squealing against stone and metal grating echo in the cave, and everyone looks up to watch Batgirl peel in the cave on her bike.

“Hey guys,” Blondie says, dismounting her bike and grinning at them. “I heard we were throwing ourselves headfirst into trouble?”

“That’s not what I said,” Tim mutters from his spot at the computer, scrolling rapidly through several different satellite images of Gotham.

“It’s what I heard.” She turns her gaze on Jason, surveying him with pursed lips. “Why is the homicidal maniac out of his cage?”

“Steph!”

“I’m not a maniac,” Jason informs her.

“I notice you don’t argue the homicidal part.”

“I don’t lie about important stuff. Unlike some people in this room.”

“Everyone in this cave lies for a living.”

“Not me. You’re the ones who are so concerned about secret identities. I died, remember?”

“Who here hasn’t?”

“Not you, from what I hear.”

“Six minutes dead is still dead.”

“Try six months.”

“Try almost a year and a half,” Damian cuts in.

“Is this really the time to play Who-Was-Dead-Longest game?” Tim asks, shooting an exasperated look in their direction. Jason’s pretty sure it’s mostly directed at Blondie, but he still feels a measure of guilt.

“It’s really not,” Dick’s voice carries down the stairs from the upper level. He dismounts, cape flowing behind them and fixes them with a disapproving look. “And if you can’t get along, we’re not doing this tonight. We’re already a man down since Cass is still in Hong Kong and Babs has Duke en route to Greece.”

“Greece?” Tim turns away from the computer, confused.

Debating for a moment whether it’s something he wants to share or not, Jason decides to fill everyone else in on what Barbara told him.

Tim’s expression becomes dark. “I’m liking this entire situation less and less with every passing hour.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick sighs. “I still think we should wait. This is an op we shouldn’t run without Batman.”

“You’re already here,” Tim points out.

Dick frowns at him. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“Screw that,” Jason interrupts. “I’m not waiting for him to drift on in here. He won’t get here for hours and I want this done now.”

“We have to do something,” Tim agrees. “Not just because of what’s going on with Jason, but the longer Cupid’s out there, the more likely she’s continuing her murder spree.”

“Planet don’t stop spinning just because B isn’t in Gotham. People all over the world gotta do shit without relying on him to show up. I know I’ve learned not to hold my breath.”

“Jason!” Dick and Tim chorus, shooting him disapproving looks.

“That attitude is why you will ever be the disgrace,” Damian sniffs. “I agree with Richard. This is a bad idea.”

“You’re right. You should stay here,” Tim says.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Drake!”

The kid looks about two seconds away from stomping his foot.

“He’s messing with you, Dami. If he didn’t actually need you, you wouldn’t be here,” Blondie offers.

The kid scowls. “I do not need you to coddle me, Brown. I am aware of Drake’s methods, basic as they are.”

“We don’t know the timeframe we’re working with,” Tim goes on, getting up from his place at the computer and approaching Dick with a mulish expression. “Jason could be fine for the next five hours until B gets here, or he could progress to the next stage of the infection. Despite monitoring his symptoms, there doesn’t seem to be a standard rate of mental decay, and that’s thrown off by outside factors anyway. We still don’t know what all-out succumbing to this could look like.”

“And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to,” Jason adds.

“Also, let’s not forget who was advocating using Stygian Sleep the last time Jason’s condition declined sharply.”

Dick shoots Tim a betrayed look. “Excuse me for not wanting to watch my brother rip himself to pieces in front of me.”

“No, you’d rather send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever,” Jason deadpans. “’Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200’.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, excuse me—temporarily send my soul directly to Hell, or Hades, or wherever. There’s a distinction. Excuse me if I’m more confident with Tim’s idea.”

“You don’t get a vote; you’d be confident about anything Tim proposed, even if it involved a Box-and-Stick Trap,” Damian interjects.

“Would not,” Jason mutters, although he thinks if anyone could make something as obvious as that work, it would probably be Tim. “I’m confident about Tim because since this whole thing’s started he’s done the most to help me through it, instead of keeping my locked in a box.”

“You wanted to be locked up!”

“Before Tim figured out, I didn’t need to be, as long as he was around!”

“Wait, what?” Steph asks, looking between the two. “This part I missed.”

“And he did that even after all the shit I’ve put him through, which is more than I can say for—”

“Don’t accuse anyone here of not trying to help you,” Dick snaps. “Damian and I have been spending overtime on patrol all week trying to track Cupid. Duke is on his way to Greece right now to follow a lead that might have nothing to do with any of this just because you and Babs have a theory. Even Steph’s put all her cases on hold to be here tonight.”

Jason pauses, somewhat caught off guard because he hadn’t known that bit of information. Then he crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask her to. Blondie doesn’t even like be—barely knows me.”

“Since when does that matter in this Family, you giant idiot?” Blondie grumbles.

“Jay, you’d be less surprised about everyone willing to help you if you didn’t try to keep yourself apart from everyone all the time,” Dick concludes with a sigh. “That’s at least one silver lining to all this. You’re finally letting someone in—even if it’s just Tim right now.”

He reaches out to clap a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Hey! Hands off!” Jason snarls, shoving Dick away and pulling Tim toward him. It’s not done violently or in a manner meant to hurt him, but this time Tim does go stiff in his arms. The three other vigilantes immediately move like they’re about to spread out around them, expressions as a serious as if they need to diffuse a bomb.

Jason’s wits return, and he quickly releases his hold on the smaller man. “Sorry.”

Blondie looks between the two of them, mouth gaping a bit. “Damn. They weren’t kidding. That’s one hell of a one-eighty you pulled there, Hood.”

“Personally, I preferred him trying to kill Drake instead of grope him.”

“Damian!” several voices protest, but the kid looks unrepentant.

“Dick, just listen to me,” Tim implores, cheeks flushed with obvious embarrassment over the situation. “I have a plan.”

The man in the cowl continues to look wary, but they’ve all worked with Tim long enough to respect when he has a plan. Eventually, he relaxes and nods, indicating he’s listening.

Tim outlines everything, starting with finding a suitable location. Summoning Cupid to the Cave isn’t going to happen, since they can’t compromise its location, and they can’t be too close to the city either. If Roy’s stories are anything to go by, Carrie Cutter has never been choosy when it comes to collateral damage.

“And if what Eros is saying is true, gods are like that but with more firepower,” Tim says. “We still don’t know who’s backing Cupid.”

“Feathers had no idea?”

“Apparently the list of people he’s pissed off starts with us and goes around the block twice.”

“I’m so surprised.”

Tim has chosen a strategically promising position that will be empty at this time of night, with enough natural cover that they can easily stay out of sight until needed. The downside is it’s worryingly close to the part of Robinson Park that Poison Ivy’s claimed as her own.

“I don’t like it,” Dick says. “Not your plan—most of it’s sound. But that last bit. Anything that draws Ivy’s attention while we’re doing this could go badly for us.”

“On the contrary, I’m pretty sure it would work out. We know better than to cause intentional harm to the flora in the area; Cupid doesn’t. And since when she fights, she doesn’t care what she destroys, she’s more likely to draw Poison Ivy’s attention than we are.”

“Or she could be in one of those moods where she decides she hates men and the only one who makes it out alive is Blondie,” Jason points out.

“I’m okay with that,” she pipes up helpfully.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Ivy likes me. We have an understanding.”

“I call bullshit,” Jason shoots back.

“No, really. I calculate a high probability that if she sees me there she’ll focus her attention on what she considers to be the greatest threat to her plants, giving all of us a chance to retreat if necessary.”

“Oh yeah? And what gives you that certainty?”

“Well, she kissed me and I’m not dead,” Tim says. “Considering the number of guys she’s left for dead that way…Jason? Are you okay?”

“I’ll kill her,” Jason growls, a murderous rage suddenly suffusing his entire body. “If she comes anywhere near you, I’m going to string you up with her own vines and feed her pesticides until she rots.”

There’s a heavy silence, and everyone is staring at him, once again like a rapid animal about to spring. Jason blinks, running over his last words, and shakes his head, feeling suddenly dizzy and drained.

“Sorry,” he says. “That came out of nowhere.” He tries to explain it to Tim. “I just—”

“No, uh…it’s fine.”

Jason scowls. “I could learn to hate that word.”

“Me too,” Dick says darkly. “If you can’t control yourself in the field, maybe you should stay here.”

“Not happening,” he insists, at the same time Tim cries, “No!”

“Tim, come on, you just saw—”

“If we leave him here alone and locked up he could hurt himself if we’re gone for a long time. Besides, my plan calls for all of us and the chances of success diminish exponentially with fewer people.”

“Then we’ll call in Selina, or Kate, or Helena or—”

“On holiday in Austria, temporarily out of commission, undercover,” Tim rattles off.

“Then call in the Titans—”

“They still wouldn’t get here right away and then we might as well wait for B,” Tim snaps. “Dick, we’ve been standing here arguing for ten minutes and look what he’s done to his hands.” He reaches over and grabs hold of Jason’s right hand, holding it up to show the bloody mess of picked and scratched skin.

Damn it. I didn’t even realize I was doing that.

The immediacy of the sight at least seems to finally convince Dick of Tim’s argument, because his shoulders slump and he says, “Tell me the rest of your plan.”

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)

<3 Violet

[marvelous-imagining]

Hey, Cupid.

MASTERLIST

Request: hey i saw a thing of official elemental abilities and i saw crystallokinesis on there. (create and manipulate crystals) i thought you could come up with a good fic. maybe a bucky or clint one? Maybe former hydra agent?

A/N: This has taken way too long. I’m sorry. Whoever requested this, if you still read my writings, I hope you like this one. Decided to go with Clint since I hadn’t written a Clint x reader before. It’s pretty long. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it. I also wanted to have a little comic references and decided to add Madam Hydra in it (apparently she’ll be in AoS) she’s mentioned just a few times. Also, Hawkeye’s former suit from the comics is also in this story for... Well, comical reasons.

Pairing: Clint Barton x reader

Words: 5,766

Warning: cursing, fighting

2009

Sitting in the meeting room while waiting for Madam Hydra to get in the room and tell you about a new mission, you played with your powers to pass the time. You placed your palm on the table before lifting it slowly, watching the beautiful bright crystal form under your touch. You then turned your palms up before closing your hands into fists quickly. The crystal crumbled at your movements and you smiled as you watched it disappear into oblivion.

The door opened, making your head snap up and turn to look at Madame Hydra at the door, eyeing you. She walked over to the table, sitting down on the seat opposite from you. She had her signature fringe over the right side of her face, hiding the large scar on her face that she always kept hidden. You raised a brow and looked at the closed door, looking back at her. "Are we alone?"

"Yes. I have a very special task for you, Y/N."

You crossed your hands and placed them on the table in front of you, leaning over it. "I'm listening."

She sent you a small smirk and placed a file on the table, sliding it over to you. You opened it, seeing a file of someone under the name Hawkeye.

"He's my mission?"

"Stopping him is."

"How did you get this file?"

She looked at you with an annoyed look and shrugged.

"Oh, right," you muttered and turned back to the file. HYDRA always had a way to get into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files. "So, I'm supposed to stop this guy. When?"

"They're planning on an attack on one of the HYDRA bases. We need you to be there, leading the agents, ready to defend the base. He's the one leading the group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

"How will I recognize him?"

"He's dressed in purple."

You laughed, "What? That's so unlikely of S.H.I.E.L.D." You stated and turned back to the file, flipping the page and seeing pictures of Hawkeye with his purple suit, headpiece included. Your brows furrowed as you looked at the picture more closely. "This... looks interesting."

"So, leading the mission," you turned to look up at Madam Hydra as she began speaking again. "You think you can handle it?"

You smiled, standing up from the chair. "You know it."

"I do," she nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Viper." You began walking towards the door. "Can I borrow the whip?"

"No."

"Damn." You shook your head in disappointment. "It's just really cool."

"I know. You can't have it. It's mine."

You chuckled and exited the room, breezing through the file.

Letting HYDRA agents fight off the people working for S.H.I.E.L.D., you waited for the man in the purple suit to show himself. You were sat on the roof of a building, feet dangling off the edge as you looked around.

Out of nowhere, you felt a brush of wind rush past you and you looked to your side, seeing an arrow on the brick wall behind you. You frowned but had your eyes shoot wide open as you noticed a red blinking light along with a little beeping noise. You were quick to stand up and run to the other side of the roof, making a move to jump into a tree next to the building. You weren't quick enough, the explosive arrow detonated and the eruption sent you flying off the building.

Your body collided with a branch on one of the trees around the building and you let out a groan of pain. You were dangling on the branch, trying your hardest to sit up and look around, trying to find the archer who had just shot the explosive arrow. He was hiding somewhere, and you couldn't see him. You lifted your wrist up and spoke into the comm, "Find the archer."

Soon you got his location, seeing some arrows being shot in your direction. You placed your hands on the branch and dropped your body, swinging yourself to another branch that was slightly lower. You felt a sharp pain on your behind and screamed out, looking behind you to see an arrow sticking out of your rear. You huffed, pulling it out and winching in pain before continued climbing your way down the tree.

You ignored the pain in your buttocks and jumped over the branches until you were on the ground. You started running towards the location that had been given to you. You saw arrows being shot in your direction once again. You raised your arm in front of you, making a crystal shield in front of you, blocking the arrows.

You got to the archer quickly and hit him in the face with the crystal shield you had created just as he was reaching for something in his pocket. He groaned and fell back. You stood your ground and watched him as he held his nose that was bleeding.

"Hey, Cupid." You laughed, seeing the purple suit along with the head piece. "Purple looks good on you."

You were surprised to have sand thrown in your eyes and you turned around, gasping only to have him stand up and come behind you, wrapping his arms around your neck, having you in a headlock. You placed your hands on his arm near his elbow and bent forward, sending him flying over you. His arrows scattered around, falling from his quiver while he fell to the ground on his back. You were quick to get on top of him but he fought back.

You saw his hand look for an arrow on the ground and as he grabbed one, you formed a crystal armor around your forearm and clashed it against the arrow he tried to stab you with. You tried to push the arrow down with your other forearm over the one covered in crystal as he held the arrow against your arm. You saw him looking down at your arm, inspecting it. You rolled your eyes and pulled your arm up, creating a spear of crystal on your hand before cutting the arrow in half and holding the sharp head against his neck.

"Make a move, and I'll turn you into some fancy shish kebab."

He gave you a confused look.

"My arm is literally crystal," you explained. "Fancy."

"Oh," he sighed. "Okay, got that."

You smiled but shook it off quickly and got off of him. You continued to hold the small impaling crystal against his neck, keeping it there to keep him in line. "Get up, hands in the air," you commanded and he did as you told him. You continued holding your hand in front of him while the crystal disappeared from your other arm. "Now, tell me why you're here."

"Why do you think we're here?" He asked. "You're HYDRA. We're S.H.I.E.L.D. this is how it goes, we try to stop you."

"That's it?" You asked, disappointed. "Nothing about like... secret experiments or intel you want your hands on?"

"Uh... not that we know of? Should we know about something?"

Your eyes widened. "No?" You sounded very unsure.

"Wow, you're a terrible agent."

"Hey!" You yelled out, offended. "Excuse me but I am a great agent, I even— Ow!" You felt something sharp under your forearm. You pulled away seeing that he had whipped out a knife at some point. You looked at him with wide eyes and got in a stance, ready to fight because it sure looked like he was going to. The impaling small crystal on your hand dissolved into nothingness. You looked him straight in the eye and closed your hands into fists, creating two small swords from your hands. "Oh, you're going to regret doing that. First you shoot me in the ass, now this? This ain't gonna end well for you, buddy."

He arched a brow and a small smirk formed on his lips. "Bring it on."

You tried to keep your angry, intimidating look but burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I can't take you seriously when you're wearing that outfit."

The archer rolled his eyes and groaned. "That's it. I'm getting a new suit. I'm staring to lose respect for myself. because of all these comments."

You chuckled lowly and got ready to fight him. "Well come here and retrieve your dignity, Hawkguy."

"Hawkeye," he corrected you.

"Who gives a shit?" You muttered before you launched at him, swinging your hands at him, he avoided your hits, barely, yet enough to not get hit at all. As he was dodging your strikes, he somehow got a hold of one of his arrows. He lifted his hand up and made a move to shove it onto your forehead. You stopped his arm, holding it up with your forearms. You held his arm up with all the strength you had. You noticed yourself getting tired, he was overpowering you and you did the first thing that came to mind, you grabbed him by the wrist and let your powers do their thing.

A crystal armor, or more like a trap, started forming around his forearm, quickly spreading to his upper body. His arms froze into place at the crystal appearing on his shoulders. You took advantage of his confusion and surprise, taking the arrow he was holding in his hand. You made sure to still keep your other hand on him to trap him fully into crystal before jamming the tip of the arrow onto his forehead. It didn't impale his skin, it just stuck to his forehead, sending some kind of an electric shock through his body. Your eyes widened and you pulled away from him, lifting your hand to your mouth to cover the shocked look on your face. "Holy fuck!" You yelled out, looking at the unconscious man in front of you, no trace of crystal along his skin.

You shook off the shocked feeling and lifted your wrist up to your mouth again, speaking into the comm. "I got him."

"Great job, agent," Madame Hydra's voice rang through the speaker. "Bring him in, we're not done with him yet."

2017

Walking along the halls of Avengers HQ, Clint stumbled his way to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading over to a meeting Fury had called.

Clint bumped into Natasha who told him to 'look alive' and 'wake up before the meeting'. Apparently it was a very important meeting. Fury was bringing along someone he wanted everyone to meet. Clint wondered who it might have been but before he really started to think about it, he needed his morning coffee.

He made a quick sandwich for himself as he brewed some coffee. He poured himself a cup and began eating the sandwich as he started heading towards the meeting room. He sat down at the table next to Thor and continued eating his breakfast while waiting for Fury and his quest.

The door opened just as Clint was taking a sip of his morning coffee. He saw Fury step in but spilled his coffee, completely missing his mouth as he saw who stepped in after him.

You.

Thor nudged Clint's shoulder while looking down at the spilled coffee on the table. Clint turned his attention to the Asgardian, realizing he had been staring. Clint made no move to clean up the mess, instead he turned back to look at you, following Fury further into the room.

You stood in front of the Avengers next to Fury and took a good look around the room. Your eyes landed on the familiar looking man with coffee all over his shirt, some droplets dripping down his chin and you couldn't help but laugh. Fury shot you a surprised look and  followed your gaze that was on the starstruck archer. Fury took in the mess and mentally rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" You laughed, pointing at Clint, making the others in the room give him a weird look. "Cupid! It's been so long. Still supporting the color purple, I see." You nodded at the coffee stained shirt he was wearing. "It's totally your color."

Everyone else except for Fury were looking between the two of you, confused about what was happening, what you were talking about.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Clint exclaimed, looking at Fury. "Did you arrest her or something? Is she held in custody?"

Fury looked at Clint, placing his hands flat on the table and leaning forward. "Do you have a problem with her Mr Barton?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Yes!" Clint said as he slammed his palm on the table, expressing just how upset he was about having you around.

"Good. You should," Fury said as he straightened his posture, turning to look at you leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest. "Agent Y/L/N, here, is a former agent of HYDRA. She says she's ready to work with us to stop what's remained of HYDRA but I'd still keep an eye on her," he continued and glances back at you again, "Maybe keep both eyes open while you can."

You smirked, blowing a bubble of the gum you were chewing obnoxiously loud. You glanced in Clint's direction and your grin widened. "You hear that? Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart," you said with a wink.

Natasha was sat on the table with her fingers tapping her cheek while she eyed you carefully with her brows furrowed. She then turned to Clint to see him looking at you with anger flaring behind his eyes. She glanced back at you and let out a quiet, "Oh..." She nodded, pointing at you. "You're the one with the crystal powers."

You gave her a confused look. "You've heard about me?"

"Clint couldn't stop talking about you for weeks."

"No," Clint protested, sending a glare in Natasha's direction. "You were the one who couldn't stop giving me shit about the mission."

"Of course I didn't shut up about it. Who was the one who came to rescue you after you were being tortured by HYDRA?"

"Wait, hold up," you called out and looked at the two. "They tortured you?" You asked, frowning.

Clint gave you a look as if silently telling you it was obvious. "Yeah, there was this crazy lady with a whip and—"

"Oh, Viper? I love her!"

Clint sent you an annoyed look and you cleared your throat, apologizing. "Anyway, yeah. I'm here now. Came here from HYDRA. Don't know the right from wrong all the time, might do some stuff that are 'frowned upon' for the mighty Avengers," you said mockingly, seeing some of the superheroes giving you dirty looks. "Also, director Fury here told you to keep an eye on me, so you better do it. Listen to his wise words."

"Kiss ass," Clint muttered under his breath.

You slammed your bare hand on the table and a streak of crystal appeared in the middle of the wide surface, going right over to Clint and suddenly a sharp, impaling crystal was pointed right at his neck. Everyone stayed seated, looking at the scene with no evident surprise in their features. Clint was staring down at the sharp crystal and shot you a look.

"You, shut your mouth. Next time I hear you badmouthing me, I won't stop the crystal from going right through you," you said and lifted your hand up, seeing the crystal disappearing. "Also, have you seen this guy?" You asked, referring to Nick Fury. "I'm not getting on his bad side."

"Good call," Tony pointed out. "By the way, how did all this happen? Your powers, I mean."

You sighed, taking a seat at the table and crossing your hands. "Due to investigation and some... examination, HYDRA found out that I had a genetic affinity to this super power," you began and placed a hand on a mug that was set on the table. The mug slowly started turning into crystal and you turned your palm upwards, having the mug stick to your skin as it continued forming a crystal layer on top of the porcelain mug. "After the help of a lab explosion that triggered my powers, I got this," you said and pointed to the mug with your free hand. You then set it down and the crystal coverage disappeared completely.

"How did you survive the explosion?" Bruce asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Well, I didn't, really. I was hospitalized, was unconscious for multiple days. My powers, though... I was told my limbs kept turning into crystal and back to normal. I couldn't control my newly adopted powers. It took some work to get them in control."

"What can your powers do, exactly?" Steve asked.

"I can make a protective crystal armor over my body, I can form my limbs into crystal weapons, I can make some objects turn into crystal as long as I am in contact with it," you said and turned to look back at Clint, "and people too."

Clint rolled his eyes and crossed his arms hoping Fury would start talking so they could finish up with the meeting.

Fury continued on to tell them to keep an eye on you along with train you, not just fighting-wise but let you know what to do on missions, especially what not to do.

Clint couldn't help but fume with anger at the thought of you being in the same building as him, having to be around you and trying not to hurt you because he was finding it hard not to. Seeing you, it brought all kinds of bad memories. It wasn't the failed mission that bothered him the most, it was the attitude you had had that day along with the being held captive by HYDRA. Sure, he hadn't been there for more than about ten hours but it was still awful, something that took a while for him to recover from. He really was not happy to have to be in contact with the person who was the cause of all that; You.

"Alright, now that everything is settled, let's—"

"What do we do if she uses her powers on us?" Clint asked, gaining everyone's attention and interrupting Nick Fury.

"I won't use my powers against you," you said calmly, looking Clint straight in the eye.

"I don't trust you," he said, glaring at you. "What do we do if or when she does?"

"I won't!"

"Then you fight back. You fight and win. You are dismissed," Fury said and began exiting the room. "Barnes, you'll be showing Y/L/N the way to her room," he said before going out the door.

Clint sent one last dirty look in your direction before storming out of the door. You were left staring at the door with a small frown on your face before you looked back to the table, seeing everyone standing up and exiting the door. You turned your attention to Bucky who was standing next to the door, looking at you with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face and you smiled.

"Barnes." You sighed, not able to erase the small smile from your face. "It's good to see you again."

He sent a small smile to your direction as well. "It's good to see you on this side for once."

You shrugged. "Yeah, I feel like I'm finally on the right track. On the good side."

His smile was warm as he gestured to the door. "Welcome, Crystal Girl."

"Hey!" You exclaimed, pointing at him accusingly. "I know people have called me that before, I hated it, that better not catch on," you warned. "If it does, you won't be the Winter Soldier anymore. You'll be... Crystal Soldier?" You said, unsure.

Bucky cringed, huffing. "That was bad. Also, the threatening? We need to work on that."

"Shut up and show me my room."

For the next few weeks, you got to know the members of the Avengers, you spent some time with all of them, except for Clint, but very few of them were ready to spend time with you alone. You weren't very well trusted, you weren't that surprised.  You had no intentions of betraying them in any way but you understood why they didn't fully trust you yet.

You were in the common room, playing chess with Vision while you saw Clint walking past you to the kitchen.

"Hey, Cupid," you called out. You got a growl in response. "What are your plans on this fine morning?"

"Whatever you're not a part of."

"Well, bad news for you, Legolas," you said and looked at him, smiling widely as you leaned back on the cushioned chair. "I'm going to be everywhere," you laughed, waving your hands around.

Clint growled once again, something he did quite frequently whenever you opened your mouth, before he continued his way to the kitchen. You decided to stand up from your chair and turned to Vision. "Sorry, V, gotta forfeit," you said before heading to the kitchen as well.

"I don't think you should go in and bother Mr Barton," Vision called out. You turned around and raised a brow at the android.

"Come on, Vis, you know I'm going to do exactly that." You smirked before strolling over to the kitchen. You stopped at the breakfast bar, leaning over it and watched him as he grabbed a snack. "Whatchu doing?" You asked, seeing Clint give you a confused look.

"Getting a snack," he answered with a monotone voice.

"What snack?"

Clint let his hands drop on the hard counter harshly and looked at you with his eyes full of fury. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"I'm just trying to have a little conversation with a friend," you said, raising your hands in the air as if telling him to chill out. "What's so wrong with that? Are you just grumpy in the mornings?"

"We are not friends," he said lowly while pointing his finger at you. He turned his attention back to getting a little snack .

"Come on, Clint," you teased, reaching out over the breakfast bar to nudge his shoulder. "Lighten up."

He continued to ignore you as he made his snack. He rushed out of the kitchen, walking away from you. You huffed and decided to follow after him. You ran up to him, laughing. "Come on, Cupid! I swear if you give me a chance... You won't need to shoot yourself in the ass to make you fall in love with me. I'm a hoot! That will do."

He turned around, making you almost crash into his chest. You looked up at him, seeing his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily, chest heaving drastically. "Stop following me."

"I'm just trying to get to know you. I want to become friends or at least get along."

"We are never going to be friends," he said, growling. "I don't want you to try to befriend me, I don't want you to talk to me, I don't even want you to be looking at me. Just leave me alone."

He turned around but you wrapped your fingers around his wrist. "Clint, come on, you can't--"

"No!" He exclaimed, making you pull back from him. "I do not want to be friends with the person who took me into that hell hole!" He yelled, his voice booming through the halls. "I'm glad to have even gotten out of there."

"Clint, I--" You began quietly but got cut off by his yelling again.

"No! You don't get to say anything. You are the reason I had to go through all that shit. You are the one who caused it. It's all your fault."

Tears started forming in your eyes as you watched him yell those mean things right into your face. You bit your bottom lip, trying to prevent the tears from falling as Clint continued his way. He got into his room and slammed the door closed, leaving you alone in the hallway, feeling more guiltier than you had ever felt.

For the next few days, you barely left your room. You did have some training and other 'lessons' with a few of the Avengers but you did not see Clint at all. It was like he was trying his hardest to avoid you. You didn't blame him, though. He had pretty much blown up at you, blamed you for having him tortured in the HYDRA base you had helped defend eight years before. You had left the base immediately after capturing Clint, going back to where you had been before. You didn't know what they had done to the hostages but now that you knew, you couldn't get it out of your mind.

Because of that, you refused to spend time with the team when Wanda had come to your room, telling you they were all going to just spend some quality time. Relax and sit around in the lounge.

"Are you sure?" The Scarlet Witch asked as she leaned against the door frame. "We're going to order some food. We really want to get to know you, Y/N."

You shook your head, giving her a small smile. "I'm sorry," you apologized. "Maybe another time."

Wanda nodded. "Okay, well, if you change your mind, just come over."

You nodded and watched her walk away, closing the door.

Wanda sighed in disappointment as she made her way to the lounge. As she got to where the others were gathered, she shook her head. "She didn't want to come. She seems really upset about something."

Sam sighed, crossing his arms. "What the hell happened? She was joking around all the time," he said as he thought of all the bird jokes you had sent his way while running into him in the hall. "Then suddenly something happened and—"

"I think you should ask Clint if he knows what's going on," Vision called out as he saw the archer walk into the room.

Clint walked in, minding his own business and saw that everyone's gaze fell on him. He looked at each individual person before his brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Do you have any idea why Y/N's been acting weird lately?"

Clint, as confused as he was, shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Okay, so he has no idea."

Clint was even more confused but decided to let it go and decided to go over to the others. He sat down, grabbing some food and eating it while listening to the others talk.

He found his mind drifting off to what he had been asked when he first entered the room. When he thought about it further, he realized he hadn't seen you in days. Granted, he was avoiding you the best he could but still it was surprising how he had not seen you in days.

"Where is she, anyway?" Clint surprised the others by asking his question in the middle of a conversation.

"What?"

"Y/N," Clint said, looking at every person in the room. "Where is she?"

"Sulking in her room just like she has been over the past couple of days," Tony said as if it was obvious and it should have been. "Where have you been all this time?"

Clint frowned, thinking of reasons as to why you had been acting so strange even if he hadn't realized it himself. He had just been so focused on keeping away from you. He hadn't really wanted to see you after he blew up on you the other day.

As he sat there, thinking about you, he realized he kind of missed having you pop up everywhere he went, cracking one of your jokes just to tease him.

He stood up from the seat and excused himself before walking away.

You were sat on your bed with your head in your hands as tears streamed down your cheeks. You sobbed quietly as you were once again reminded by the words Clint had screamed right to your face. It wasn't really the harsh words that hurt you, it was the pure anger he held behind his eyes as he said them. You had never felt so bad about anything you had done. You were just trying to make things right, make a few friends or at least try to get along with as many people as possible.

Humor was all you knew. You weren't really the type of person to have a heart-to-heart with anyone, you weren't very well in touch with your emotions. You didn't know how to start with apologies. You wanted to apologize to Clint but you had thought that maybe joking around with him would make him like you, would let you get closer to him but it had only made him angrier at you. You had never really realized just how much HYDRA affected other lives. You knew they had definitely affected yours and what you had gone through wasn't really compatible to a fun trip to an amusement park. It had been a bit of a roller coaster, though, only it sent you flying off the edge and let you tumble down to the ground, bruising and wounding you as you dropped down.

As your sobs started to grow in volume, you heard a loud bang in the vents, a quiet, "Shit!" was quickly heard afterwards. Your sobs stopped but your eyes were still filled with tears. You turned to the vent that was high up on the wall and listened to further noises. You had heard the vulgar exclamation, immediately recognizing the voice.

"Clint?" You asked, sniffling.

There was silence for a few seconds before a small, "Yeah?" was heard.

"Are you spying on me from the vents?" You asked, the tears suddenly stopping.

"...No?"

You sighed, walking over to the vent and pulled the exhaust grille away, seeing Clint lying in the vent with an embarrassed smile on his face. You shook your head, looking at him with an exhausted huff. "What are you doing?"

He stared of into the distance as if thinking through what he was going to answer. He shrugged, letting out a huff. "I don't know, really."

You shook your head, taking a few steps back. "Come on, get out of there."

"It's kinda cozy in here."

"Just come down."

He nodded and backed up slightly to turn around in the vents so he could come out of the vent feet first. You saw him with his legs dangling out of the vent and before you could even think, you spoke. "I have the biggest urge to pull your pants down right now."

"Please don't," Clint said a lot more gentle and pleading than you were expecting. "I'm wearing some very embarrassing underwear." He continued to shimmy out of the vent, dropping down to his feet. He turned around to see you standing with a small smile on your lips. The smile did not reach anywhere near your eyes that were still red and puffy from crying. You were also still sniffling as you wiped off the tears on your face.

"So why'd you spy on me?" You asked as you went over to sit on your bed. "Have you been doing that for the past few days?"

"No, I haven't heard from you since... since I slammed the door in your face."

"Likewise."

Clint took a seat on your desk chair and turned towards you, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm not going to apologize for yelling at you," he said. "I meant what I said."

You nodded, "Well... Everything you said was true. I guess I always knew they were going to... do those things to you, I just never thought about it," you continued as your gaze fell to the floor. "When you yelled at me a couple of days ago... I finally realized how ignorant I had been. I understand what you went through because I—" You suddenly fell quiet, swallowing the lump you had in your throat.

"You what?" Clint asked impatiently.

"Because I went through the same thing."

Clint's eyes widened at the revelation. "Really?" He asked quietly.

You nodded. "Yeah. HYDRA's a messed up place." You heaved a sigh and looked down at the ground. "I know this probably isn't going to change anything but... I understand what you went through. Do I feel bad? Absolutely. But I can't take all the blame. It wasn't what I wanted to do. I was made to bring you in, ordered to capture you."

Clint nodded, scratching the back of his neck, not knowing what to reply. "I... I know that. I was just mad and—"

"No, I get that," you interrupted, holding your hand up to tell him to keep silent. "I understand why you're mad. I just... Maybe it's crazy and delusional and I shouldn't say anything," you chuckled in embarrassment. "I just hope we could somehow get past it?"

Clint smiled gently, taking a deep breath and shrugging. "I don't know what to say. You're always going to be the crazy Crystal Bitch who kicked my ass eight years ago."

You laughed. "Crazy Crystal Bitch, I kinda love that," you smirked. "Better than Crystal Girl... But yeah, I get it. You'll always be the guy in the purple suit who shot an arrow in my ass."

"Cupid?"

You nodded, "Cupid. You're always going to be the guy I refer to as Cupid."

"Well," Clint began as he stood up. "This is not how I thought this conversation would go but it's fine. Glad we got things sorted out. I'm not great with goodbyes, so..." He said as he pointed at the vent. "I'm just gonna get out of here."

"Sure," you smiled. "Does this mean we're cool?"

He shook his head. "I still don't fully trust you."

"That's reasonable," you sighed. "Well, I guess I'll see you around—" You turned to look at him only to realize he had already gone up the vent. You shook your head, crossing your arms. "He really isn't great with goodbyes," you muttered to yourself.

Just as you were about to put the grille back over the air duct, Clint's head popped out of it. "Do you still want to hang out with us? The offer still stands."

"Yeah, I guess." You nodded, put the grille back on and headed for the door. "But I'm getting there by walking along the halls like a normal human being," you teased.

Clint groaned and soon you heard him shuffling away. You heard him quietly mutter, "Crazy Crystal Bitch."

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