#and robin should never be sexualized ever

[ms-all-sunday]

personal experience time for prosperity, so i've mentioned that one piece is the reason I'm okay with the fact I'm bisexual now, which i thought it was self evident why that was but I'll explain because i feel like it gives perspective on why im so pro-sexualized/the narrative seeing this character as attractive (when appropriate obviously and i think op does a good job of doing that for the most part) for nami/robin (mainly talking about my experience with nami)

so previously ive had issues with never being attracted to female fictional characters, (I've been attracted to real human women very briefly throughout my life. i just dont hang out with a lot of people and the majority of them arent girls) and that was a problem even though i knew I was able to be attracted to girls I didn't feel like i was able to identify with that part of myself, (as a trans man, I've always felt very pushed into wlw spaces which I think isn't good and even though I have alters that identify as women we've never as a whole ever thought we were wlw) the problem was, when youre asked to be attracted to fictional women 99% of that is either objectification or look this character is hot! and then her actual character is nonexistent. which is a problem for me, because in my experience strong attraction comes from both how much i relate to someone and how much I admire them, so if I'm at large completely unable to relate to female characters, it puts me in a really fucking tough spot and i end up never being able to explore attraction like that in a fictional space. you see, you could point out to me that there's wlw characters and experiences that could've helped me? which, I'll point you to the fact I'm a man and secondly, I tried that. but I'm a man and unfortunately while I can appreciate gay girls in fiction i don't connect with them like that.

where this changed for me was a year ago when I watched one piece and then immediately was blasted by girls who were very obviously seen as attractive but were some of the best written female characters i had ever fucking seen since having that crush on that original character,

and there were men in the context of the fiction that were attracted to nami for the exact same reasons I was ??? (sanji/zoro in arlong park) and these men were being defined by having a crush on or being attracted to nami, and she was the one in control (another reason I couldnt connect with m/f couples: i wanted to be held by a girl and taken care of by a girl not the other way around)

and she struggled with mental health like i did so of course i could relate to her! and i was being encouraged by nami herself to see her as attractive so i didn't feel creepy like i did all of the other times (being a man and being attracted to women and inherently feeling creepy was a huge issue for me) and she was seen as a whole person, a whole entire beautiful person. the fact she was so complicated and detailed made her more attractive, and the fact i could connect and relate to her and have loving her mean that I love aspects of myself i couldnt expect?? I just loved her and i was attracted to her and I couldn't control it so it had me let go of my fear without me even realizing it was happening.

i literally havent felt creepy expressing my attraction to women since.

i simply needed to figure out how to be attracted to women- nami- because i was attracted to her so immediately and so intensely that being attracted to her meant i immediately became more articulate about it because i loved her so much it burst out of me.

the fact people saw nami as attractive was both good for me, someone who finds her attractive and struggled with expressing my attraction to women and was only attracted to fictional women who were entire people!, but also allowed me to feel loved myself as a person with mental health issues similar to hers.

basically, TLDR, i think viewing female fictional characters as attractive is fine as long as they're entire people who aren't reduced to their relationship to men, and is really fucking good actually both on the level that people get to see themselves as attractive and that it rightfully sends the message that women are more attractive when they are understood as whole people with lives and flaws (that can exist outside of traditional heterosexuality).

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of forever teen Danny adopting JJ Tim AND Red Hood Jason.

[Pt2: Here] [Pt 4: here]

Jason had absolutely no idea what he was looking at. Talia's information was apparently out of date when she sent him back here. There's a tiny vigilante version of Joker talking to the air on a rooftop in Crime Alley that wasn't in any of her reports. The whispers on the street call the kid Poltergeist, and he's apparently a chaotic good character and used to be Robin #3 before a run-in with the Joker turned him into the loony he sees before him. Jason is pissed Bruce let a second kid fall into that monster's hands.

And despite Jason searching, he hasn't found anything on the guy that supposedly saved the kid from Joker. Harley is still fucked up from seeing this Phantom guy kill her "Puddin'", but considering she helped fuck this kid up, Jason has no sympathy.

"Shit!" Jason ducks for cover when the kid suddenly snaps his head over to him. When Jason looks back, the kid isn't there anymore. "Double shit."

"Why have you been watching me?" Is asked from behind him. Jason will deny the yelp and jolt if anyone asks, but he totally did as he whips around, finding the kid perched on the building's roof access. There should be no way he got there that fast (is the kid a meta?). He has his head tilted like a curious puppy, the dark purple lipstick smeared over his lips and facial scars not hiding his little little frown. "Who are you, anyways, Mr. Tank?"

"I just wanted to check out the new player." Jason is glad his helmet disguises his voice, it masks some of his awkwardness.

The kid pouts, "I've been around 3 years if you count my year as Robin, that's not very new. If anything, you're the new player, Mr. Hood."

So the kid does know who he is? "Yeah, well, I've been outside of Gotham for those 3 years. You're new to me."

"Hmm, you couldn't have been Red Hood before you left." A second teenager's voice says from just to the left of Poltergeist, startling Jason. An unearthly looking 14(?) year old fades into view. The kid(?) is floating, answering the question of how Poltergeist got to where he is without Jason noticing. "Your ectoplasum is funky, my guy. How long have you been an Revenant?"

"A what?" The helmet can't mask how baffled he is.

"Yeah! Yeah! What's a Revenant, Dad!?" Poltergeist excitedly asks the other kid(?). The (not)kid's obviously not human, so Jason is obviously an idiot for assuming. Guy looks like a kid, but doesn't have the vibe of a kid. And he gets the vibe Poltergeist is call this guy "Dad" in a 100% "this is my father" way and not the weird "I call my sexual partner Daddy" thing that cropped up while Jason was without internet access.

"A Revenant is an undead that had a violent death and had a need to avenge themselves so desperate they rebound their soul to their body." The unknown explains, then seems to stare into Jason's soul. "Something is off about your ectoplasm, though. You should really get that looked at."

"Looked at by who?" Jason asks warily, "Who even are you?"

"Ah, I'm Phantom. Friendly neighborhood dead guy." Phantom fucking finger guns, what even is Jason's life? "And if you're asking that, I can only assume you've never been to the Infinite Realms."

"The where??"

"A dimension that runs parallel to this one. It's the dimension of the dead, undead, and neverbornes. It's very green." Phantom explains. "They'd have more knowledge on how to fix you the best, but I currently don't have easy access to it and don't know where you could. Good news! I'm pretty sure if I give you my own ectoplasm while slowly removing the fucked up bits of yours, it'd straight itself out. The unfortunately side effect is you'd be considered my kid in the eyes of the Realms and I'd want to know who the fuck you are before either of us commit to that."

"It'd fix the pit rage?" Jason asks in a daze. He's killed more people than he ever wanted because of the blackout rage he gets sent into.

""Pit rage"?" Phantom is staring into his soul again.

"I get so angry I blackout and can't truly tell you what I did during the, usually, hours I'm lost to it." Jason explains, "It's how I got on B's radar before I meant to."

Poltergeist is now creepily staring at him. Kid really is mimicking his dad.

"Yeah, no, that's not normal." Phantom scrunches his face in thought. "Rage is normal for a Revenant, it comes with the territory, but blackout rage isn't..."

Phantom looks over to Poltergeist, "How do you feel about a sibling?"

Poltergeist hasn't stopped his staring. It's freaking Jason out. Even more so when the kid starts cackling in delight. It sounds Joker-like. Which is fair given what Jason heard about how the kid became this way.

"I know who You Are Revenant ~!" Poltergeist sings. Making Jason freeze, because seriously??? The Bats haven't figured it out, but this kid in one meeting did???

"Oh?" Phantom asks fondly.

"He's the second Robin!" Poltergeist crows. "You definitely have my permission! How could I refuse the best Robin being my brother??"

"Wha-how-what the fuck, kid?" Jason sputters.

"You thought I wouldn't recognize you?" Poltergeist grins manically. "I stalked you and the B-man every chance I got before you died! I know you! Batsy was a fool to let you go!"

"You what now?" Jason doesn't know how many existential crisises he can handle in one conversation.

"I had a baby stalker phase!" Poltergeist admits happily before turning to Phantom, "Does being a vigilante mean I'm still a stalker?"

Phantom seems to genuinely think about it before answering, "I think you have to be to be a Gotham vigilante. Just try not to let it branch out to other areas in life. Normal people, and probably normal heroes and vigilantes, would probably get scared off."

"Jazz already told me." Poltergeist whines and flops over. Jason can now only see his feet. "Normal people are boring anyways."

Phantom just shakes his head fondly before looking back at Jason. "I'll let you think on it. We'll be around."

And with that, Phantom scoops up Poltergeist and turns them both invisible. Poltergeist's shriek of "Ta Ta!" and happy cackles echo in a way that means Phantom is flying them away.

Jason doesn't need to think on it, but he appreciates the thought.

He heads to his nearest safe house and starts researching up a storm on the supernatural to at least have a baseline on what he (and Phantom possibly) are. He takes a lot of the info with a grain of salt, though. He'll have lots to ask when he meets up with his potential new family. Who needs the Bats anyways? B told him he wasn't his father before he died, why should that change now that he died and came back? Nah, B will just be mad he's a crimelord. Phantom and Poltergeist don't seem to mind at all.

Yeah, he's joining their weirdass family. Maybe he should add a symbol or something green to his vigilante get up to declare it? He'll decide after he talks to them. Phantom might have a family crest or something.

[depresssant]

Shades Of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader - part l, part ll

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

so reader is very flawed ppl. i’m trying to make this as gn as possible for pls bear with me. asks and requests r open. reblogs are also much appreciated. now that i’ve gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy this pathetic excuse of a story

warnings : child abuse, past sexual abuse, yandere, etc

you want to die.

you always do.

staring at the wanna be thug pointing a gun at you, you sigh and roll your eyes in exasperation. perhaps pissing him off will the best way to get him to curl a finger around the trigger. or judging by his temperament, you won't have to do much.

"you? i should give my money to you?"

"who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?" the thug screams at you angrily. his grip gets tighter and clammier. he's not experienced with this. he's probably ganged up with a bunch of thugs to pull shit like this. it wouldn't take much to disarm him. "give me the fucking money before i blow your head off!"

"to a junkie like you?" you are a junkie, too, so you're not too sure about making fun of him for that. "i don't give money to hobos."

that is wrong, too. but you want to piss him off.

"that's it, you stupid bitch!" the thug's stances becomes defensive. his hateful glare is pointed at you while he musters the courage to actually press the trigger. he doesn't look like he'll do it. you've seen countless like him roaming the streets, holding you at gunpoint. he probably won't do it. then again, this is gotham. you don't expect much. either he'll shoot you dead, forcibly take your stuff, flee the scene out of fear, or be dismantled by one of the city's vigilantes. perhaps he'd shoo—

"stop right there!"

damn it.

you think too soon.

a young robin is quick to have the wanna be thug tied up and beat down. you would've questioned why a kid who seemingly looked twelve can do such a thing, but you've learned to not question most things in your life. you merely sigh in disappoint and pick up your dropped backpack before beginning the journey to hell.

"excuse me? wait! where are you headed?"

gosh, his boy-ish voice grates your nerves. makes you clench your teeth. your gaze narrows, but you know better than to react. reaction gains a reaction—one that will never be in your favor. it'll lead to a fight—one that will never be in your favor. you'll end up broken, bleeding, and bruised. now that isn't something in your favor. now you're thinking of favor too much. forcing a smile, you turn around to face the pre-teen vigilante. "yes?"

"are you alright?" he asks with practiced concern. he doesn't actually care. it's probably just protocol.

"a-okay!" the words are hollow. they lack depth. like you. "thank you for your help. i don't know what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

you do know. you wish you wouldn't.

"you're welcome," robin replies with polished words like he's not exactly convinced. "would you like for me to walk you? the city hasn't been safe for some time now."

"when is it ever safe? but that's okay. i live just around the corner, so i think i'll be fine."

"are you sure—"

"completely."

please. why won't he just leave you alone? there goes your plan spoiled by him again. every time you've been in an attempted robbing, he's been there to destroy your chances of getting shot. of escaping. he always does this. this is a repeated cycle between the two of you. he's a flying bird until you shoot him down. your name clearly wants to escape from his lips, but robin nods his head in understanding.

"this seems to happen to you all the time. my wish is for you to be safe."

"this is gotham." the grip on the straps on your backpack tighten. "everyone's gotta go through this. anyways, i gotta go, you know. thanks for savin' me."

"of course."

you don't spare him a single glance. the sky is wrapped up in black clouds heavy with the burden of rain. icy cold wind sings a melancholy tune through the stiff air. the door to your apartment looks like the gates of hell. it's all futile. no matter how many sighs you sigh, how many wishes you wish, and how many curses you curse, you'll still land up in the same fate. without escape.

that is the summary of your life.

taking a few seconds to prepare yourself for the incoming session, you open the door to be met with radio silence. silence is never good. half the time, it means something is brewing for you, and they're taking their sweet time to scare you into thinking nothing will happen. sometimes. not all the time. the other time, it just means he need to rise from his pile of misery first.

the hand of your mother's boyfriend is instantly wrapped around your neck before you can even register why the hell the apartment looks like a tornado hit it. he squeezes so tightly you feel like blood is gushing out of your ears with how loudly they ring. white spots dot along your blurry sight as you struggle to breathe. you can hear a frantic voice telling him to let you go, but you're pushed up more against the wall. this is the norm. doesn't mean it hurts any less. he'll let you go, give you some time to regain your breath, and then rain down bullets upon you.

that's exactly what happens.

your hand goes straight to your neck as your raspy and shaky coughs wreck your chest. he squeezes hard enough for it to hurt but it not show. and then the kicks and punches come. with how much your chest and ribs are struck, you're a bit surprised at how you haven't broken a bone yet. your potential step-father screams at you, but you can barely hear it over the repetition of words in your head. he grabs your bloody face and shout something incoherent before letting you go to kick you.

leaving you in your own pile of misery.

it's normal. yes, it's completely normal. you're used to this. it'll get better. it always does. but you've got the crushing idea it never will.

gotham heights high school—the school you're forced to attend.

the class division is insane to look at, because it's there even from a short and near prospective. how the richest kids got put in a school with the poorest—you'll never know. the only thing you do know is that every one of these kids are pieces of shit. even the ones that pretend to be nice.

tim drake—or shall you say tim wayne—is no different.

even as he helps up the girl who just got roughly pushed to the floor, causing all her textbooks to scatter, you can only eye him with disdain. if he really cares, then he would've beat the shit out of those athletes. but he doesn't. they're all the same—privileged and all. sympathy shouldn't be given to them. not to drake or the wealthy yet somehow bullied girl.

"but y'know what i heard?" your friend drags your attention back to him. zarian leans against a locker lazily, but excitement practically buzzes off of him. "the bruce wayne is coming to our track meet today!"

your other friend, jaylene, rolls her eyes as she applies her eyeliner using the mirror hanging up on the inside door of her locker. she speaks exactly what you're thinking. "only because his beloved son is gonna be there."

"well, still. think about the connections we can make! all the famous people that'll be there."

"keep dreaming. asshat. i put all my money on the attention being on rich the kid. i don't even know why he joined track. varsity, at that, too. there has to be some sort of bribery going on."

an incoming argument is clearly brewing up, so you take in a deep breath to say something, but a new voice beats you to it.

"excuse me?"

you and your two friends turn to face the guy standing in front of you. charismatic, intelligent,  and optimistic—he's an enigma that shines on everyone. tim drake. his black, messy yet somehow in place hair does no justice for his good looks. he's the complete package. rich, good looking, tall, and empathetic. the mere sight of him annoys you.

zarian is the first to speak up. he quirks a brow and offers tim a grin. "what's up, man?"

"you're leaning against my locker." tim rubs the back of his neck. he smiles awkwardly in the presence of the three of you, and it takes your friend a beat to understand what he's saying before moving away.

"oh yeah. my fault," he says as he moved to stand next to you.

the school's very own bruce wayne only shakes his head and tells him it's okay while opening his locker and grabbing a few things. people flock around, waiting for him to be done with whatever the hell he's doing, so they can be back to his side like leeches sucking on blood. he surely can't be this dumb, no? these people don't want to be his friend...

well, it's not as if it's your problem. you wish it is. you and your friends turn to make way to first period, but drake clearly has other plans. he sandwiches himself between you and zarian with a grin of his own plastered on an unblemished face. one carefree of any worry or pain. "so," tim begins. "first track meet of the year, huh? aren't you guys nervous?"

jaylene merely hums in amusement and shrugs. "it gets better. when you've spent four years in track—in front of all those judging people—it wears off. hopefully, you'll get used to it soon."

that is jab, though, rich the kid doesn't seem to catch on. he laughs casually, but even you can sense the anxiety like it was radioactive. ""i hope so. i've sprinted so much i feel like i'll get shin splits again."

you zone out while he has a conversation with your friends. as if drake has ever had experience with track. it took you all of freshman year to just prove that you can actually be a part of the track team, and here tim drake is, parading around about getting on varsity without a single grain of hard work. he's a naturally talented person. good at everything. that's what makes you hate him so much. people like him get everything handed to them just because they're good at it first hand and leave behind people that actually work for it. you want to tell him to buzz off—that he can't talk about how much he's practiced and how nervous he is, but you keep your mouth shut. that is, until he directly addresses you.

tim's eyes narrow at you with comedic suspicion. "you know, you look like someone i know. a lot. the resemblance is crazy."

"eight billion people out there. you never know." your tone is flat, stoic, lacking any bit of emotion.

"gosh, you even sound like him! that's really terrifying."

"well, whoever, it is, i hope i never meet him," you murmur.

your two friends leave for their classes soon, and you and drake find your seats at the back of high school economics. exhaustingly so, you sit together in one of the many desk pairs, and drake uses this opportunity to annoy you any chance he gets. you give off the vibe that you don't want to talk to him. he doesn't get the hint. you don't tell him, though. maybe that's the problems. his shit-eating grin ticks you off when you look in his direction. "what?"

"let's be friends!"

"no."

"what? come on! don't be so cold!" he whines like a petulant child being told no.

"no."

"too bad! you're my friend now."

"tim," you sigh. it's wrong to scream. it's bad to scream. screaming leads to fights. fights lead to you laying in a pool of your own blood. laying in blood leads to missing practice. missing practice leads to less skill. less skill leads to less of a chance of getting the hell out of here. just smile. forgive and forget. know your persona. know who you are. kind. happy. funny. "fine." so you smile with gritted teeth. you smile like you played a cruel joke on him. "we can be friends... i guess."

his face brightens at your fake words like he is just given the the world.

tim drake wiggles his eyebrows playfully and nudges you with his elbow. "you know, i've been trying to get you to say that since school started?"

"really now?"

"really. i'm glad we're going to be friends. oh! should we go out to eat with zarian and jaylene after the meet?"

... there's a chance your mom's boyfriend will get pissed off. he'll probably beat the shit out of you since the track meet would have happened, and you wouldn't need to have an unblemished body for meets. he'd scream, yell, and punch... like his life depended on it... fuck it.

"yeah," you reply shortly after with a firm nod of your head. "we can go to this diner near the theater. i'm sure you'll love the food."

this doesn't mean you hate him any less. he's still rich scum⏤how you're poor scum. he's stuck up, pretentious, and sickeningly sweet. exactly what you hate. you just hope you can have a good time after the track meet. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

"and this is my dad, bruce wayne."

what the hell are you doing?

the sun is setting along the horizon, the air is getting cooler again, and you want to sink into the floor. the plan was to head straight to the diner after this, but rich the kid somehow roped you into meeting his dad?

nausea pools in your stomach from both hunger and the feeling of thousands of eyes staring at you. cameras are flashing at gotham's billionaire as he smiles and firmly shakes your hand. confidence drips off of him disgustingly. his high-tailored suit radiates wealth and money. his stoic demeanor gives off an aura of mystery. you want to lay on a railroad track with an incoming train speeding along the way.

"it's nice to meet you. tim has ranted about his track teammates quite a lot."

there's an eleven year old standing next to him. his eyes are on you like that of an owl's but you neither glance at him or bother to acknowledge him. you just want to eat some food before meeting your doom at that apartment for not placing first like your mom's boyfriend wanted you to. like a goat getting stuffed before slaughter. it always leads down to that. no matter how many times you try to wish it was different. no matter how many times you imagine it to be different. no matter how many times you try to make it different.

"nice to meet you too." you shake his hand as well with a polite smile on your face. polite. calm. gentle. proper. "and yeah, he seems very eager to be on the team."

"of course, of course. well, it is getting late. why don't you come over for dinner some time?"

"maybe tonight?" tim suddenly adds in. at your hesitant expression, he groans in exasperation. "who do you think we are? blood-sucking bats? come on, we can go to the diner some other time!"

you have just met him... you've just accepted being his friend... you aren't the most social person. you've never had much friends, but even you can understand that dinner with the family doesn't happen until the friend and person have come close in a long period of time. jaylene and zarian have other matters to tend to, so it's going to be just you and tim at a diner. not⏤

ding!

your phone's notification's alarm chimes, and when you check who has sent you a message, you feel like getting on the ground to pray to whatever deity for letting you have a moment of peace.

mom: ⏤he's heavily drunk. don't come home.

a part of you is hit with a strong current full of guilt. this is your mother. you're supposed to be there for her through thick and thin. you're supposed to protect her and be her wall of defense against monsters like him. family look out for each other. you have to take care of her... but she doesn't take care of you. this makes you a terrible person. you know that. she'll probably get beaten to an inch of her life and hide her heavy bruises under makeup that was terribly done in a rush. and then, she'll throw whatever object is in sight at you in a fury of anger.

telling you she made too many sacrifices for you. telling you that you're ruined her life. telling you that she should've aborted you like your father had told her to. telling you exactly what you believe yourself. a curse that should've never been born... she'll be beaten within an inch of her life. but you have already lost yours.

after pretending to text her and sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, you nod with a sigh of joking resignation. "sure. i asked my mom, and she said it's okay."

"wonderful." mr. wayne nods and gestures to the limo you can see in the parking lot. a bit of overkill, perhaps.

honestly, you're still surprised that gotham's billionaire is inviting you to dinner. this man is the topic of magazines, and you're about to take a ride in his limo. how the hell have you ended up in a situation like this? fate is still fucking with you, isn't it?

you find yourself seated next to tim while mr. wayne and his youngest son, damian, sit on the seats to your right. they're talking about something, but once again, you find yourself half listening and zoning out, staring at nothing until mr. wayne's questions pulls you back to reality.

"so how has school been faring for you?" mr. wayne asks in a cool and collected tone.

you laugh lightly and smile as politely as ever. "pretty good. i hope to leave gotham after graduation to study somewhere else."

"who would want to stay in gotham?" tim rolled his eyes, rolling the first place medal between his fingers. "by the way, remember when i said you looked like someone i know? i was talking about my dad?"

your brows rise in both exasperation and annoyance at his claims. now he's just plain, out right trying to make fun of you in front of a billionaire. your shoulders tense, ready to refute his claims, but mr. wayne surprisingly chuckles and rubs his chin while taking a good look at your face. "well, i can see it, but there's eight billion people out there in the world. i'm bound to look like someone. though, i didn't expect for it to be someone as talented as [name] here."

you force a quiet laugh along at the sound of his tone. foreboding. you know tones like this. like he's hiding something that they all know except for you. it means you've made a mistake in even giving in to tim drake's constant begging. why the hell was he so eager to have you become his friend? why is he so eager to maintain a friendship with you? why the hell has mr. wayne invited you to dinner when he's rumored to be mysterious, secretive, and a literal brick wall that nobody can get past?

"you've achieved so much for a child your age." mr. wayne sets his gaze dead on you. "your father must be so proud."

and his eyes glimmer with that same shine you saw in tim's.

ewwww

this was not proofread so forgive me and uh, i will be turning this into a series

um also making a tag list if anyone wants to be a part of it

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

For the first time since they saved the world, since Steve carried Eddie out of hell, and their bat bites had healed, Eddie was finally hanging out with Steve without impending doom hanging over their heads. Robin was also there as she didn't want to miss Steve cooking, and Eddie didn't blame her.

"Holy fucking shit!" Eddie yelled, slamming down his fork. "Fucking marry me."

Steve blinked at him, blushing, and his mouth fell open. He quickly closed it and smiled.

"Okay!"

"Oh! I'll go get the book!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands as she ran off.

"Book?" Eddie asked. "What? What's going on?"

Robin soon came back with a large white binder with a lock on it. She slammed it on the table and pulled out a key from under her shirt, unlocking it.

"This is Steve’s wedding book. As his best man, I hold the key," Robin said.

"Wait, hold on, that wasn't a real - ," Eddie started to say.

"Ooh, some of these were definitely written before me. That's definitely Baby Steve’s handwriting. . . Ooh, I can just imagine little Stevie putting a white sheet over his perfect hair," Robin said. "So, Spring, Fall, Summer, or Winter?"

"I was thinking Fall-ish," Steve said. "Near the end of August, maybe in September. Not too cold, not too hot."

Robin closed her eyes and held a pen in the air. Where did the pen come from?

"August 30th! I feel it! Perfect day!" Robin exclaimed.

"Wait, just a goddamn minute! What are you doing?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Planning your wedding to Steve, duh," Robin said, rolling her eyes. "Now, Steve, are you sure about the groom?"

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "He's funny, very cute, and good with kids. Yeah, I'll take him."

"You like men?!" Eddie asked.

"Duh, babe, keep up. He's already told you this," Robin said.

"Fucking when?!" Eddie asked.

"In the hospital," Steve replied.

"When I was on painkillers?!" He asked.

"You still want Dustin to be the flower girl?" Robin asked Eddie.

"Oh, shit, that actually would be hilarious- no, nope, no way! This isn't happening!" Eddie yelled.

"Did you ask Steve to marry you?" Robin asked.

"Well, yes, but - "

"Did he say yes?"

"Again, yes, however - "

"Then you're engaged. Congratulations," Robin said.

"Ooh, we have enough money in the budget for weddings 2, 5, and 8!" Steve explained, looking over her shoulder.

"When I said that Steve should marry me, I wasn't -," Eddie said.

"Can you think of a reason why you shouldn't marry Steve?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't even know if I like men! I like women!" Eddie shrieked, running his hands over his face.

"You said something different in the hospital," Steve said.

"You mean, when I was on painkillers?!" He asked. "You're fucking with me. You guys are fucking with me."

"Babe, you seem stressed out by all this wedding planning," Steve said, taking his hand.

"I am VERY stressed out," Eddie said.

"Just let me and Robin handle it. I have been planning my wedding since I was like five, and trust me, I have never been a fan of big weddings, so it's going to be low-key and tasteful," Steve said, squeezing his hand.

"This is illegal," Eddie said weakly and in disbelief.

"Yeah, like none of us have ever done anything illegal," Steve rolled his eyes. "A marriage is more than just a piece of paper. Besides, I don't want the government at my wedding anyway."

"Fuck, yeah, me neither," Eddie said, shaking his head. "This is crazy!"

"Look, Eddie, I know this is sudden, and I know how scary it is to deal with all of this as well as speed running through a sexuality crisis. It's been a couple of months, but there were days where I sat by your bedside, hoping you would wake up, and when you did, I realized that I wanted to wake up next to you every morning," Steve said softly, rubbing his thumb. "I want to hear every single rant, even the ones where you're being as asshole. I love you, and if you really don't want to do this, then I'll back down."

Eddie looked into Steve’s hazel eyes, swallowing thickly as he imagined being married to him and waking up with him every day. He already knew that Steve could handle how chaotic he could be, how much he loved the kids despite his loud protests, and he remembered all the talks about their asshole fathers who basically abandoned them. Eddie remembered waking up in the hospital and seeing Steve’s relieved red rimmed eyes. He knew without a doubt that Steve was a partner that he could depend on.

"Okay! I've decided that I'm just going to let this happen!" Eddie said, throwing up his hand. "But I can't be domesticated! I refuse!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Steve grinned.

"Also, during one of the dances, we're playing Metallica!" He yelled.

"Done!"

Steve leaned over the table and kissed Eddie, who didn't waste a second kissing him back. Yeah, he liked it, and he wasn't ever going to kiss anyone else. On some level, he had known that as soon as he had slammed Steve against the wall of that boathouse.

"Oh my God! I'm marrying Steve Harrington!"

TWO DAYS LATER. . .

Eddie was sprawled out on the couch in his brand new living room when Wayne came in, back from his fishing trip. Eddie frowned as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"So, how'd the dinner with Steve go?" Wayne asked.

"Well, the food was so good that I asked Steve to marry me, and he said yes," Eddie said. "It's on August 30th, save the date."

"You're hilarious, son," Wayne said, rolling his eyes. "You should be a comedian."

Suddenly, Steve burst out of the kitchen, looking flustered.

"Okay, I decided to be the bigger person here. I'm going to invite my parents to the wedding," Steve said. "If they don't come, they don't come. Hopper's already agreed to walk me down the aisle. Oh, hey, Wayne. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to cook for my fiancé and my future father in law. How was the fishing trip?"

Wayne stared at him, blinking at Steve and then at Eddie. Wayne sighed, shaking his head.

"Not a goddamn bite. Waste of a trip," Wayne said.

"Damn," Steve said and looked at the kitchen. "I have to check on the food. Sorry. I want to hear more about it!"

"Smells good, son!" Wayne yelled and plopped down on the couch next to Eddie.

"You accepted that pretty quickly," Eddie said.

"You can't do better than Steve. He went to hell and back for you. He never left your side. . .he loves you, and I can't ask for a better partner for my boy. . .speaking of why aren't you in there helping your fella?" Wayne asked.

"He kicked me out," Eddie pouted.

"You almost took my head off with a skillet!" Steve exclaimed.

"I nearly took him out, and he still wants to be with me," Eddie sighed happily and tucked his head into Wayne's shoulder. "By the way, when you walk me down the aisle, you can't let me fall, you know how I am."

"I would never let you fall."

Eddie smiled. Despite everything that happened, that's still happening. . .Eddie was happy, and he was getting married to the most wonderful guy in the entire world. Suddenly, Eddie sat up.

"Oh, no," Eddie said.

"What?"

"We told Dustin and the kids, but I didn't think to tell Ronnie," Eddie gasped.

"You mean, your best friend since you were eight?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I am in deep - "

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Ronnie Ecker stood there in all her long-legged glory.

"You're getting married to Steve Harrington?!" She asked. "And I had to hear about it from a 12 year old?!"

"He's 14, actually," Eddie said casually. "How was the trip from New York?"

Eddie suddenly remembered the thing Robin had reminded him to do: don't forget to tell your platonic soulmate.

[suzukiblu]

Hey, I was reading through "kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit" (which I adore, Tim's plot to kidnap Kon is gonna go great with definitely no more derailments for sure) and it seems like there's at least one post missing? Between the one ending with the "You didn't even look at me, though." "Didn't I?" dialogue to the one starting with "Superboy carts him halfway across town" without actually showing Superboy finding out about Tim's matching soulmark.

I . . . what the actual fuck, haha, there's like a good 700 words of PRETTY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION missing there and I cannot find ANY sign of any posts that should have them, mis-tagged or not, so like . . . Tumblr, what. Or ME what. Either Tumblr fucked up or I fucked up, and hell if I know which at this point. I could swear I posted those words, but god knows what happened to them and I am definitely not gonna go through ALL of this blog figuring out why they're not where they're supposed to be, so WELP, fuckit, here's just everything of this WIP so far all together and all in order behind the cut: 16.7k of an incredibly normal Tim Drake being an incredibly normal civilian about this situation.

Apparently Cadmus knew Experiment Thirteen was the one to invest in because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark. 

Apparently Cadmus also considered terminating Experiment Thirteen because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark. 

Tim knows this because he broke into the place and stole a copy of Superboy's file the day after they met. He also knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like, because these absolute bastards not only took multiple pictures of it, they put those pictures in his fucking file. Not even, like, classified or tucked away behind a firewall or a password or anything. Not even in a separate folder. Just right there in his standard file where literally any random scientist or doctor or goddamn intern could trip right over them without even meaning to. 

Forget the fucking mind control; that's fucked up. 

So yeah. Tim knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like. It's a stark, dark red, all sharp angles slung low in the V of his Adonis belt and cutting from one hip to the other, looking not unlike a stylized bird in flight coming at the viewer head-on. Bold. Undeniable. Very much like Superboy himself, really. 

And exactly like the mark that came in on Tim when, he now knows, Superboy was first put together in a fucking petri dish. So that's . . . a whole thing, there. 

Well. At least his soulmate is only literally fifteen years younger than him, not physically and mentally. 

Although that doesn't really seem like a big improvement, to be honest. 

Tim didn't even know he was into guys, actually? Definitely didn't know Superboy was into guys, all things considered. Like, he would not expect somebody like him to ever be subtle about who or what he was into. 

Maybe they're platonics, Tim tries to tell himself. The fact that his first reflex upon learning that Superboy was his soulmate was to immediately question his own sexuality doesn't really support that theory, though. 

Though it does help explain why Poison Ivy putting her hands on the guy had pissed him off so bad. 

Like. It very much does. 

Tim doesn't actually know what to do about this. Bruce still thinks he doesn't even have a soulmate, due to Tim previously really, really not wanting to deal with the absolute embarrassment of admitting that said soulmate was an actual fucking baby, so Tim never got the Bat-version of the soulmate talk. Bruce'd sat him down to give it to him when he'd first become Robin, but Tim hadn't had a mark then, obviously, so they'd both just assumed he didn't have to worry about it. Tim is pretty sure Bruce had been as relieved as he had to dodge that particular bullet, really. Apparently Dick had needed visual aids and hadn't understood the "gilly talk" version. And Jason had had questions. 

Lots of questions. 

Creative ones. 

Sometimes Tim suspects Jason might've been an asshole. Like, just a little bit of one. 

So no, Tim does not blame Bruce for deciding to skip that particular talk with him, especially when they'd both thought he wasn't gonna need to know any of it anyway. 

So . . . yeah. He doesn't know how he's supposed to approach this situation. Obviously telling Superboy that they're soulmates would compromise Tim's secret identity and therefore Bruce's, and everybody and their damn mother knows Superboy himself doesn't even have a secret identity so it's not like Tim can figure that out and approach him that way. 

On the other hand, not telling him that they're soulmates isn't a great start to being soulmates, now is it. 

Crap, Tim thinks. 

Then he calls Dick, because if he has to sit through the Bat-version of the soulmate talk, at least maybe Dick will be slightly less embarrassing to hear it from. 

As long as there's no visual aids involved, anyway. 

"Hey, Tim," Dick greets as he picks up the phone. Tim has a carefully crafted plan of attack, of course; several, in fact. He's got all sorts of subtle ways to lead the conversation without revealing anything too damning or too specific and while keeping everything in hypotheticals. Just making the whole thing either a quick thought exercise or casual curiosity from an unmarked kid who's heard one too many soulmate stories and wants to know more. So Tim's prepared. Tim's ready. 

Tim panics. 

"Poison Ivy kissed my soulmate and I want to burn down her entire life," he blurts. 

"Uh," Dick says. "You're . . . gonna have to catch me up a little here, baby bird. For starters, I thought you didn't have a soulmate." 

"I didn't," Tim says as he starts to pace back and forth across his bedroom floor, because he's already screwed this up so there's no point in playing coy now. "Then some dickheads in Metropolis decided to steal Superman's dead body and make a cocky asshole with douchey shades and a leather fetish out of it." 

"Ohhhhh boy," Dick says. "What'd B say?" 

"I found out like half an hour ago and you're the only person I've told, so nothing yet," Tim says. "What's the Bat-protocol for finding out your soulmate is somebody in the community, exactly? Specifically somebody in douchey shades?" 

"Depends," Dick says. "How'd the kid react?" 

". . . I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total creep, but he doesn't know," Tim admits with a wince. "I broke into Cadmus to make a copy of his file after I met him and they just . . . had his soulmark in it. Like. There wasn't even a password. It wasn't even in an isolated folder. It was just there." 

"That is the most fucked-up thing I've heard since the last time I had to talk to Jervis Tetch," Dick mutters in obvious disgust. "Alright, well, how are you reacting, then?" 

"My soulmate is a baby," Tim grumbles disgruntledly, dropping into his desk chair. "A baby who is also a teenager." 

"Tim, you're a teenager too," Dick reminds him wryly. "You are very much so a teenager too, in fact." 

"Yeah, and it sucks," Tim says emphatically. "And I have, like, actual legal guardians and a home and a trust fund. Superboy just lives somewhere in Hawaii with a sleazy businessman and his kid and some random guy from Cadmus!" 

"That's, uh, actually not great," Dick says, sounding a little troubled. 

"You think?!" Tim demands. "He's a baby! An infant! And he lives with his frigging manager!" 

"What the actual hell," Dick says. 

"Just–is it ethical to kidnap your own soulmate and does that even matter if they're not legally a person and so you couldn't actually be charged for anything anyway?" Tim mutters speculatively, drumming his fingers on his desk for a moment and then booting up his computer. "I mean, B can't get mad at me for doing it if the courts can't get me for doing it, right?" 

"Wait, Superboy's not legally a person?" Dick asks incredulously. 

"Nope," Tim says. "Which neither Cadmus nor the sleazebag selling his likeness for a living has in any way tried to correct, for the record. Technically he's classified as intellectual property, but Cadmus forfeited legal possession when Superman turned up alive again, presumably to avoid Superman ever finding out that they'd had said legal possession, so technically if I went and kidnapped him it'd be more like . . . salvage, maybe? Like, in the eyes of the law, I mean." 

"Yeah, okay, in that case kidnapping your own soulmate might be less an ethics question and more a moral obligation," Dick says. 

"Good point," Tim says, frowning consideringly as he pulls up his browser. "Do you think if I just do it as Tim Drake I can avoid compromising my identity?" 

"I have no idea but if I were you I'd already be booking my flight and thinking up a cheap excuse to 'accidentally' flash a teen heartthrob superhero my soulmark anyway," Dick says. 

"I am already booking my flight," Tim says mid-click of said booking. "Although, uh, flashing him our particular soulmark might require, like . . . third base, and I don't even know if he likes guys. I don't even know if he knows if he likes guys, he's like five minutes out of the cloning tube and like, I'm literally fifteen and don't know if I like guys, so why the hell would he?" 

"Okay, yeah, that could be an issue," Dick says. "Hm. Wardrobe malfunction? Slutty beach day? Wet T-shirt contest?" 

"I'm not above any of those options at this point, frankly," Tim grumbles, even though those ideas are all very "Nightwing" and not very "Robin". Technically he shouldn't be approaching this like Robin would anyway, because god forbid Superboy recognize his methodology. 

Slutty beach day might have to be a thing, Tim realizes with resigned dread. He is really not comfortable with slutty beach day being a thing. 

. . . maybe if he just gets lucky, he can catch Superboy having his own slutty beach day. Not to make any assumptions, just Tim's pretty sure if either of them were ever going to be the type to wear a speedo or low-waisted swim trunks or just walk around with their soulmark out in general . . . 

Which, in Superboy's defense, well–his soulmark is already on file with Cadmus, so yeah. He might not even care if other people see it or not, considering that. 

Then again, if Tim knew that a bunch of random strangers who'd wanted to mind-control him had all seen and taken pictures of his soulmark, he'd never wear anything that risked exposing it again. Like. Ever. Possibly he'd just live and die in a wetsuit. Or coveralls. Overalls. Or just–whatever. Something like that. 

. . . come to think of it, Superboy's costume is all one piece, isn't it. 

Cadmus is full of assholes, Tim decides as he confirms his booking, then gets up to throw together a go-bag. He has no plan whatsoever, but whatever; it's a twelve-hour flight. He's gonna have time to think something up. 

One go-through with airport security and a twelve-hour flight later, Tim has not thought anything up. 

Dammit. 

It's early morning in Honolulu and Tim is very, very tired. He didn't sleep on the flight because he was making plans, but to be honest said plans are all shit. His best option is gonna take six months to fully execute, for starters. Which is a reasonable amount of time to have to spend getting a near-complete stranger to trust you enough to let you kidnap them away from everything and everyone they know, he knows, but still. It's not even that solid a plan, even discounting the frustrating time delay. It's just the best of a bad lot. 

Maybe Tim should've, like . . . actually stopped long enough to tell Bruce what he was doing and get some advice. Or at least Alfred, anyway. 

Just . . . it's fine, Tim tells himself as he and his go-bag get a taxi. This is just preliminary work anyway. Recon more than anything else. Ideally he'll manage to "meet" Superboy, but he's not dumb enough to think he's going to get the guy to like him this quick, much less trust him. The goal is "passing awareness of his civilian identity's existence" and nothing else. 

Then the street kind of blows up in front of his taxi. 

So that's a whole thing. 

And here's Tim without so much as a damn domino in his pocket. 

People are screaming, things are very literally on fire, and some rando in lycra is yelling at the cop car on the corner. Normal Tuesday, really, except it's broad fucking daylight and again Tim doesn't have a mask on him, much less his bo staff or utility belt or anything actually any kind of useful. 

Fuck airport security, Tim thinks. 

"Who's the jerk with the monologue?" he asks the driver, who seems largely nonplussed by the whole situation and has definitely left the meter running while they're trapped between the other cars and the blown-up street. Priorities, Tim guesses. Can't blame a guy for having them. 

"Beats me, man," the driver says with a shrug. "I don't keep track of the spandex set, I just take the necessary detours around 'em when I'm working." 

"That might be lycra," Tim says, reaching for his wallet. "But fair enough. How much do I owe you?" 

He doesn't have a mask right now, no, but he can't just leave civilians unprotected. He can at least help people get out of the area and maybe distract the lycra rando for a bit, if it comes to it. If nothing else, he can–

Somebody in flashy red and blue and a black leather jacket crash-lands on top of the lycra rando with very deliberate flair and a very loud crow, and then the street blows up again. 

This time, though, the explosion is definitely telekinetic in origin. 

Specifically tactile telekinetic, Tim thinks it's safe to assume. 

He pays the driver, then grabs his go-bag and gets to getting people out of the area as subtly as possible while Superboy and the lycra rando tear up the street even worse. Like, almost impressively worse. Tim really wouldn't have thought the damage could even get that much worse, but they both find a way. 

He is going to have such a hard time convincing Bruce to let him drag Superboy to Gotham. 

Well, it's a six-month plan. Maybe the guy will mellow out a bit somewhere in there. Learn some subtlety. Pick up a bit of finesse. 

Tim isn't actually that delusional, obviously, but that's the lie he's gonna tell Batman when he pitches it. 

Superboy takes down the lycra rando without Tim having to improvise any assists, fortunately, and Tim manages to keep any civilians from getting in the other's way as he handles the fight. The street officially looks like a gravel road, but nobody's dead or even particularly injured–to surprising degrees, in fact–so Tim will take it. Superboy doesn't seem concerned, though a few of the civilians mutter disparaging things about what this is going to do to their commute. 

Tim technically understands their point, but also Superboy did just save at least those cops from getting blown up and the street was already pretty much fucked before he even got here, so he's not sure why they're all complaining about being alive and in one piece. People in Gotham are more intimately familiar with their own mortality than most private citizens, though, and also just grateful when it's not the Joker, so maybe it's just a regional thing. 

He shoos the last few civilians over to the EMTs to get checked out and starts trying to figure out his own exit strategy for this situation before any cops try to write his name down or something. Chances of getting Superboy's attention right now are slim, so it'd be best to just–

"Hey, man," Superboy says, landing lightly right beside him. "Thanks for the assist. Saw you getting people out of the way, made things way easier." 

Tim stares at him. 

"You didn't even look at me, though," he says reflexively. Superboy grins at him. 

"Didn't I?" he asks. His suit is torn right across his stomach and low down along his hips. His soulmark is not even slightly obscured and he is going to absolutely no effort to hide any part of it. 

Tim has never experienced something this convenient in his life. 

So yeah, Bruce is definitely going to assume that he deliberately hired some metahuman stranger to go to Hawaii and rip up Superboy's clothes in very indecent and very public fashion when he tells him this story. 

Frankly, that would've been a better plan than the slutty beach day one, so maybe Tim will just pretend that he did. 

"Uh," Tim says, really not sure what to say right now. Superboy flashes him the cocky smirk from all those lame teen magazine posters, still not going to any kind of effort to cover his soulmark. 

Tim hates Cadmus, but also is kind of embarrassingly affected to be seeing his mark on someone else's skin live and in person. With the photos, he was more distracted by the violation of their existence than anything else, but here and now Superboy is just standing in front of him with their mark bared for the whole damn world to see like he wants it seen. Like he wants Tim to see it. 

Like he wants everyone to know that he belongs to someone and exactly who that someone just so happens to be. 

So yeah. Tim is . . . affected. 

Tim is definitely, definitely affected. 

And increasingly less convinced of any possibility of this bond being platonic, too, because there is no way in hell that their mark looks half as good on him as it does on Superboy. Like. Not a chance. 

Tim really, really wants to touch it, which is technically SOP with soulmarks but is also a bit more fraught of an experience when said soulmarks are more suggestively placed. And they are very much in public right now, so, uh . . . yeah. 

So that's a thing and all. 

"Alright there, man?" Superboy asks, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "Didn't get your bell rung or anything, did you?" 

Tim decides to just accept the gift the universe has given him and go for broke here. 

"This is really forward of me, to be honest, but that's me," he says, gesturing meaningfully at Superboy's soulmark. Superboy blinks. Tilts his head. Tim assumes he doesn't believe him, because why the hell would he believe a random stranger just saying that to him in the middle of what is technically a crime scene and completely out of nowhere, and resigns himself to having to flash his own mark on a public street with a bunch of way too interested people around. It's unfortunate and not remotely to plan, but there's no way he'll get Superboy actually alone this easy, so . . . 

"What, seriously?" Superboy says, looking bemused. 

"Seriously," Tim confirms. 

Superboy blinks again. Tim puts on a carefully sheepish smile and steels himself to–

Superboy jerks forward and grabs him, and the next thing Tim knows they're a couple hundred feet up in the air and zipping off to . . . who the hell knows where, even. Tim was so genuinely not expecting this turn of events that he didn't even register the instinct to hit Superboy with a nerve strike for lunging at him like that. 

Is he being kidnapped? Is that what's happening right now? 

. . . well, it'd be fair, admittedly. 

At least Superboy went with bridal style over, like, a fireman's carry. 

Not that bridal style doesn't have its own attached embarrassments, but still. 

Tim avoids doing anything as stupid as staring at Superboy's very close face and pretends to be interested in the view. It is a nice one, so it's not hard. Kinda makes him wish he had his camera on him, to be honest. Superboy doesn't say anything, so he doesn't either. He doesn't know how well they could hear each other with the wind in their ears anyway; according to those files from Cadmus, Superboy's not due to develop super-hearing for at least another year or two, and Tim definitely doesn't have it either, so it's probably just better to wait for the moment to avoid having to yell. 

Superboy carts him halfway across town and then lands them on a totally random-seeming rooftop that Tim assumes he has some reason to have chosen, though hell if he can tell what it was. The sight lines are all terrible and there are literally no defensible positions, and there's not even a single decent hiding place or useful perch. 

The local architecture is definitely nothing like Gotham's. 

"Uh," Superboy says as he lets Tim down on the roof, taking a step back from him and suddenly looking embarrassed as he pushes those ridiculous douchey shades of his up into his hair. "I maybe could've thought that one through a little better." 

"Well, I'm assuming you want to see my mark too, and this is better than me flashing it in front of the local press," Tim says, trying not to smile too wryly at the guy. 

Superboy blushes. 

Welp, there's another strike against platonic. 

"Um, yeah, I–" Superboy starts awkwardly, still blushing, and Tim decides to put them both out of their misery by lifting his shirt and tugging down his waistband just enough to reveal his share of their soulmark. Superboy visibly forgets what he was saying and just stares at it. 

"Honestly, I'm pretty relieved," Tim says as he directs Smiling Normal Civilian Face #4 at Superboy and tries not to get flustered by said staring. "I was absolutely expecting to have to deal with a literal baby in my future and I just don't need a soulmate who's gonna think Vena Cava is old news." 

Superboy flicks his eyes back up to Tim's face and sort of . . . grins, kind of, and looks unexpectedly . . . happy, almost? Tim thinks? 

Huh. 

Weird. 

"Uh, I . . ." Superboy starts, then just trails off like he's lost for words or maybe just not quite sure what to say. 

"Do you want to touch it?" Tim offers, because that's normal social behavior with a first recognition of matching soulmarks, and only realizes why maybe that wasn't the best suggestion when Superboy blushes even darker. Which–well, Tim might be blushing a little too, now. 

They really did get a pretty suggestive placement for their mark. 

"Uh–sure?" Superboy says, then somehow turns even redder and sputters: "I mean yeah! Yes. Definitely." 

Okay, Tim probably isn't straight. And this mark probably isn't platonic. 

That is . . . a lot to deal with right now, so he just buries it under Smiling Normal Civilian Face #4 and tries not to blush any harder himself as Superboy strips off his gloves and shoves them into his jacket pockets and then sort of–pauses, seeming a little uncertain, which is very weird to see on him. Superboy is the opposite of uncertain–to a fault, is he the opposite of uncertain. 

Then again, this is literally the second time they've met and most of what Tim knows about him came from either a Cadmus file or tabloid news and teen zine interviews, so maybe he's been making some assumptions here. 

"Together?" he suggests, holding up his own hands. Superboy nods immediately, his face still flushed almost as red as their mark. 

"Together," he agrees, and they both reach out at the same time. Superboy slips his fingers up under Tim's shirt and Tim slips his own between the torn edges of Superboy's suit, and they both just . . . touch. 

Tim's surprised, a little, by how soft and near-reverent Superboy is about it, and puts another strike against platonic. Then he immediately gets distracted, because touching your soulmate's mark is apparently very distracting. His fingers feel warm; his body feels warm. And Superboy feels . . . 

The empathy bond that Tim had always assumed to be exaggerated or romanticized settles in soft and warm and with a sense of rightness, and Tim feels a sort of nervous excitement and hesitant hope and an entirely unanticipated shyness and sweetness and softness where he was really expecting to get more like . . . brash and cocky reckless energy and just . . . very different things, really. This is really just not what he expected to get from Superboy, of all people. 

Not even a little bit, is this what he expected. 

And Superboy . . . Superboy looks flushed and flustered and fascinated, and Tim has the thought that if they, like . . . hugged or something like this, then their marks would touch each other, and then they'd be sharing the empathy bond through them directly, and . . . 

Yeah, okay. That's . . . a thought, definitely. 

Fuck. 

. . . although if either of them were, like . . . turned on or hard or anything, then they'd–never mind. 

Any potential platonic-ness of this mark is really, really losing ground here. 

Tim really does not know how he worked with Superboy last time without tripping over himself, at this point, but to be fair at the time he hadn't known what the guy would look like with his costume all ripped up and their shared soulmark exposed for the whole damn world to see. 

Tim is definitely, definitely kidnapping this guy. If it takes six months or six years, he's kidnapping him. He absolutely refuses to leave that soft little curl of shy hope and unexpected sweetness in this goddamn bullshit situation. He is kidnapping him and getting him legally recognized as a person and out of the stupid predatory contract with his manager and out from under Cadmus's supervision, and he is burning down literally anyone who tries to stop him at literally any point during the whole process. 

He will burn down fucking Superman if he has to. And also the US government and all of Cadmus and–

Just–anyone. Literally anyone it takes. 

"What's your name?" Superboy blurts, and Tim cannot believe he didn't even fucking introduce himself before asking the guy to touch his soulmark. What kind of fucking idiot is he, exactly? 

"Tim," he says quickly. "Um–Tim Drake. I'm from Gotham. Just, you know, visiting." 

"Hi, Tim," Superboy says, and gives him a soft little smile that all those lame teen magazine posters don't even deserve. Tim's heart does a rapid series of Dick-Grayson-level acrobatics in his chest. God, he hopes Superboy doesn't have super-hearing yet. He doesn't, right? God. 

Just–god. So, so many gods. 

"Hi," Tim echoes, feeling ridiculous. He clears his throat, then reclaims his hands from Superboy's soulmark. Superboy bites his lip, then does the same and takes a step back. 

Tim wants to throw himself off this roof, but unfortunately the lack of grapple is going to interfere with that theoretical escape attempt. Crap. 

Superboy's hands are still bare. 

So is his soulmark. 

"You did good with that guy who wrecked the street," Tim says, putting on Smiling Normal Civilian Face #2, which is a little more reserved than #4. Superboy turns red again. 

"Technically I also wrecked the street," he says, looking embarrassed. 

"It was already a wreck when you got there," Tim snorts. Property doesn't mean shit next to people. "And this way nobody died or got hurt too bad." 

"You helped with that part," Superboy says, still red-faced. "Made it a lot easier to keep everybody safe with somebody who was thinking straight about getting them all out of the way, like I said. It's hard to, uh–concentrate on that many at once, you know?" 

"Keeping track of where all the civilians are has to be a pain in a fight," Tim agrees, though he tries to make it sound more like he's following Superboy's logic than already fully aware of the vitality of situational awareness from his own vigilante gig. Superboy blinks, cocking his head. 

"Oh–no, that part's easy," he says. "I can feel everybody. It's just, uh . . . actively spreading the force field out that much? I gotta concentrate a lot harder. So it's just way easier when nobody's in the line of fire." 

Tim . . . pauses. Tilts his head. He is, technically, aware of how Superboy's tactile telekinesis works, but that sounded like . . . 

"Sorry," he says. "You had everybody there in your TTK field?" 

"Mostly," Superboy says. "Like I said, it's hard to concentrate on that many people, especially if they're running around all freaked out." 

"Why would you split your focus like that?" Tim asks, a little mystified. Though he guesses this explains how Superboy noticed what he was doing without ever actually looking at him, come to think. "Doesn't it weaken your powers?" 

"Well, yeah, but that dude was blowing up the whole street, man," Superboy says, making a face. "Somebody could've gotten shrapneled or something." 

It occurs to Tim, slowly, that the amount of injured civilians really wasn't as high as it should've been, and in fact most of the injuries he did see had almost definitely been caused in the initial attack. So that means . . . 

Oh. 

. . . huh. 

"Huh," he says. "I didn't realize that was something you could do.” 

"I try not to advertise that one," Superboy says sheepishly. "So, uh, bad guys won't start going after civilians harder when I'm fighting 'em. Or pick crowded areas to pick fights in." 

"I was under the impression that you advertised most of what your powers can do," Tim says wryly, though again, he did get that impression from stolen files and cheap magazines. 

"Well, yeah," Superboy says with an awkward shrug. "Otherwise people don't think I'm doing anything. Like, that I'm just punching stuff or whatever. Uh, so–how long are you in town for, then?" 

"Just for the day," Tim says while making further mental re-evaluations of his soulmate. And it's an admittedly terrible cover, but–"I'm flying back to Gotham on a redeye. I just dropped in to get some time to myself, but I've got school on Monday and a paper to write for it. You know how it is." 

"Not so much, man, I don't do that," Superboy says, and Tim . . . pauses, again. 

"You don't . . . what, go to school?" he asks. 

"Naw," Superboy says, shaking his head. "On account of supervillains attack it when I do.” 

"So you're home-schooled?" Tim assumes, trying not to cringe at the idea of Rex Leech teaching Superboy math or economics or anything even vaguely in that wheelhouse. That could not possibly end well. 

"Naw," Superboy repeats with another shrug. "Got superhero shit to do. And also, like, brand deals to do. Not really my thing anyway." 

. . . Tim is reminded, again, that Superboy is not in fact legally a person and is therefore not in any way protected by labor laws, and Rex Leech and every single dodgy opportunist he's been selling Superboy's likeness to probably knows that. Not even the laws intended for civilians or metahumans or minors or animals would apply, in fact. 

Fuck. 

The next six months of this kidnapping plot are going to be an agonizing wait, Tim's already realizing. 

Fuuuuuck. 

"Oh, I see," he observes non-committally, trying to figure out if he can move up that six-month timeline somehow. There's got to be some corner he can cut or something he can cheat, if he just–

"Do you wanna hang out for a little while before you leave the island?" Superboy asks hopefully. Tim stares blankly at him for a moment. What kind of question is that? Most people would be upset to find out they'd only have a little while to hang out with a newly-discovered soulmate, but Superboy's asking like he expects him to want to just . . . what, swap cell phone numbers and then go on about their original plans for the day? 

First of all: no. Second of all, Superboy doesn't know it, but this is Tim’s plan for the day, so still no. 

"That sounds cool, yeah," Tim says, applying Smiling Normal Civilian Face #5, which is a little softer. Superboy brightens, inexplicably turning red again. Tim has the even more inexplicable urge to pat his head about it. 

This is definitely not a platonic soulmark, no. 

Okay, so Tim's . . . gay, he guesses? Bi? Pan? Just–some sexual orientation that includes telekinetic alien hybrids that are at least male-presenting, anyway. That or Superboy is a trans girl and just not out yet, which he supposes is an equally logical option. 

. . . probably Tim being at least a little bit gay is likelier, though, because Superboy really is a look in that torn-up skin-tight costume he's (she’s?) barely wearing right now. Though Tim could also be bi and Superboy could be trans; it's not like either of those possibilities precludes the other. Actually, that combination would probably work out pretty well, right? In theory? 

At least, he assumes it would. Tim has admittedly not looked into that kind of thing too much, what with assuming it wasn't ever going to be directly relevant to his life. He infiltrated a GSA-style support group for a month and a half once for Robin-business and that's all he's really got to go on. His cover had been "kid with a newly-out older brother who was seeking basic information", just to minimize any potential concern about him dropping off the face of the earth after the necessary recon in the center was done, so he hadn't had to know anything even then, really. 

Apparently he should've been paying less attention to the layout and staff and more to the actual conversations. 

Go figure. 

"We could go grab some lunch," Superboy suggests, leaning towards him a bit. "I know all the best local places. Like, the not-touristy shit, I mean. Or maybe hit the beach?" 

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but I didn't pack a swimsuit," Tim admits. The possibility of the slutty beach day plan would've required a very different cut of swimsuit than his usual trunks, so he'd just figured he'd just buy a new one if he needed it. 

"I could lend you one," Superboy offers. He’s a little bigger and broader than Tim is, so Tim’s sure they don’t wear the same size, though he supposes if he had a pair of trunks with a drawstring waistband, or at least an elastic one . . . 

"Do you have a spare?" Tim asks, mildly dreading the thought. He's a Gothamite. They're not bred for the beach. And also, that would entail wearing Superboy’s clothes. 

Why didn’t he just say yes to lunch? Why is he stupid? 

"It's Hawaii, dude," Superboy says with a laugh, flashing him a wide grin. "Half my closet is swimsuits. Actually pretty sure I have more swimsuits than T-shirts, come to think.” 

Tim isn't sure if that means Superboy likes the beach that much–which would admittedly make sense for a Kryptonian hybrid, given the ridiculous amount of yellow sun that's out there free for the taking–or if that means that Superboy just literally never wears civilian clothes. He must sometimes, right? In theory? 

. . . Tim hates Rex Leech, he's pretty sure. Like. Really, really hates him. And also Cadmus. And Superman is on thin fucking ice, at this point. 

Very thin ice. 

He could get out the kryptonite ring again, if he had to. Like, that's an option that happens to be available to him. Just in case. 

"We could do the beach," he says as he reverts to Smiling Normal Civilian Face #5, because he’s an idiot, apparently. "Since it is Hawaii and all." 

"Cool," Superboy says, grinning wider for a moment before seeming to remember himself and straightening back up from leaning in so close. "Uh–cool, yeah! C'mon, I'll give you a lift." 

Tim, again, doesn't even have time to register the instinct to hit Superboy with a nerve strike before he's in the guy's arms and they're taking off into the air again. Does Superboy have super-speed? Tim was pretty sure he didn't. Like, at least not yet, anyway. Maybe all that constant island sun is paying off early. 

Hm. Note to self: look into that. He should really know if his soulmate has super-speed or not. 

Superboy doesn't actually tell Tim where they're going, but Tim assumes "his place" is a safe enough bet. Which is . . . a whole thing, actually, since it includes a marked risk of running into Rex Leech, who Tim absolutely cannot threaten this time. Which is really unfortunate, frankly. 

Then again, maybe if he can get the slime alone while Superboy is digging out that swimsuit for him, he can say something with some plausible deniability to it and Smiling Gotham Civilian Face (Nighttime Edition), which Tim has on good authority terrifies just about every other possible flavor of Normal Civilian. At least in the States, anyway. 

He'll have enough mercy not to use the Crime Alley version on the guy. 

Maybe. 

The flight isn't long, but the view is still nice, so Tim wouldn't have minded either way. Superboy sneaks a few glances at him from behind his sunglasses and Tim politely pretends not to notice so he doesn't have to deal with the weird fluttery feeling it puts in his stomach every time he does. It's not like Superboy can't feel him perfectly well with his tactile telekinesis right now, and also just his normal sense of touch; there's no real reason to keep sneaking peeks at him unless–

. . . wait. How well can Superboy feel him with his tactile telekinesis right now? Like . . . exactly how well? 

Oh god, Tim thinks, and desperately pretends that his only concern in regards to the answer to that question is if Superboy might notice he has more muscle and scars than a normal civilian should, whether they're from Gotham or not. 

Actually, if he can potentially feel something as subtle as scars–

Oh god, Tim thinks again, and then very quickly stops thinking altogether in self-defense. 

The flight to Superboy’s presumable place isn’t too long, like he said, so Tim manages to keep his brain from running off in too many buck-wild directions, and they’re landing in front of a big but slightly shoddy-looking plain wooden house before he’s catastrophized too badly. Or like . . . maybe not too badly. In theory. Probably. 

Superboy lands in front of the porch and the little group of people who appear to have been talking on and around it, and doesn’t even let Tim down before he’s excitedly blurting, “Everybody, this is Tim, he’s my soulmate! Tim, this is, uh . . . everybody.” 

Tim’s done his research at this point, so he recognizes Rex Leech sitting in a chair on the porch, Dubbilex sitting in another with a ratty-looking little white dog in his lap, Tana Moon standing by the steps, and Roxy Leech sitting on them. He doesn’t know the dog’s name or whose it is, but the rest of them he’s researched, for obvious reasons. They all look startled, then bewildered. 

Tim feels a little awkward about the whole situation, considering Superboy still hasn’t let him down from the bridal carry, but ignores it in favor of Smiling Civilian Face #4 and a polite little wave. 

“Nice to meet you, everybody,” he says. 

They all stare at him blankly for an awkwardly long moment, at which point Superboy finally seems to realize he should put him down, and then Roxy Leech lights up and jumps to her feet to run over. 

“Oh my god, SB, that’s amazin’!” she says brightly. Tim immediately clocks her as full of shit, but more in the sense of “trying to be happy for someone when not remotely happy herself” than “just being a fake asshole”. “Hi, Tim! I’m Roxy!” 

“Hi, Roxy,” Tim says, offering her a handshake to go with Smiling Civilian Face #4. She throws her arms around him and hugs him instead. Again, he’s too baffled to register the nerve-strike instinct. “Um . . . hi?” 

Dubbilex gets up and comes over with the ratty little dog in his arms and stares intently at Tim, who does his Bat-training best to think nothing but normal civilian thoughts. The dog sniffs him curiously and then jumps out of Dubbilex’s arms and straight for him. Tim barely catches it in time, which means now he’s got a dog and Roxy attached to him. Which . . . okay, sure. This might as well happen. 

Oh god, the dog’s licking him now. Why is the dog licking him now? 

“Krypto seems to approve of you,” Dubbilex observes. Tim continues to think very normal civilian thoughts, and Dubbilex tilts his head, looking . . . thoughtful. 

. . . Tim hopes these are normal civilian thoughts. 

“He’s cute,” he lies with Smiling Civilian Face #2, taking a blind guess on canine gender. The dog–Krypto, apparently–looks like a wriggly wet rag, actually, but that’s not the dog’s fault. Well, aside from the wriggling. Dubbilex still looks thoughtful. 

“Don’t lick him, you little shit,” Superboy says, eyeing Krypto dubiously. 

“Aw, you don’t think your soulmate’s lickable, SB?” Roxy asks with a sly grin, and Superboy turns bright red. 

“Don’t you lick him either,” he threatens, grabbing her off Tim and floating up into the air a few feet with her in his arms. She cackles delightedly and throws her arms around his neck. Tim wonders if she’s his girlfriend. It’d track with her being anxious about him finding his soulmate, but recon on Superboy’s interpersonal relationships was . . . unclear. 

Meaning, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out if the guy was platonic about a single woman or girl in his life, so who fucking knows. 

Tim really doesn’t know what that means for their mark, considering. 

He pats Krypto’s head, for lack of a better idea, and gets slobbered on again for it. Dubbilex still looks thoughtful. Rex and Tana come over a bit more grudgingly than he and Roxy did, Rex looking leery and Tana just barely frowning. Tim pretends to be an oblivious moron and ignores both their suspicious expressions to keep up Smiling Civilian Face #4. He is a perfectly normal civilian with a perfectly normal smile and perfectly normal thoughts, and that is all. Really. 

( and he’s going to get Superboy away from this fucking BULLSHIT living situation and into literally ANYTHING better, and away from Rex Leech and Cadmus and every single shitty person who’s trying to take advantage of him, and into legal recognition as an actual fucking PERSON while he’s at it, no matter which politicians he has to Bat-blackmail into passing some goddamn LEGISLATION already! )

Dubbilex tilts his head. Tim doesn’t panic, because he’s a perfectly normal civilian having perfectly normal civilian thoughts. There’s absolutely nothing in his head that Dubbilex would hear and think was weird. Nothing. Normal thoughts. All of them. Normal. 

. . . Tim needs to work on his normal civilian thoughts, maybe. Like, just a little. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Tim,” Dubbilex says, tone mostly neutral but still polite. “My name is Dubbilex.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Dubbilex,” Tim says like someone who definitely didn't already know that. He puts on Smiling Civilian Face #11: “Meet the Parents” Edition. It is . . . not actually one he's really had to use before. Like, not even with Ariana or–and actually also it’s probably not the right face to be using either, really, but Dubbilex is the closest thing to a not-an-asshole adult in Superboy’s life and he doesn’t want to be an asshole to him. 

Unless he turns out to be one after all, in which case all bets are off. But only then, obviously. 

“You sure this guy’s your soulmate, Kid? Not just some weirdo fan trying to take advantage or something?” Rex Leech asks suspiciously as he finally comes over, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at Tim skeptically. Tim finds that a deeply ironic statement. And also a deeply hypocritical statement. 

Prick. Like Leech hasn’t been taking advantage of Superboy since he first fucking heard of– 

Civilian thoughts. Niiiiice civilian thoughts. Nice and normal and civilian, just like all his thoughts. Normally! 

. . . don’t think about white elephants, Tim tells himself, and immediately winds up with a full stampede of albino pachyderms in his head. 

It’s not non-civilian thoughts, so he’ll take it. 

“Relax, Rex, he showed me his mark,” Superboy says as he lets Roxy back down and lands again, the tips of his ears turning just a little bit pink. Tim considers both the reaction and the fact that he just noticed said reaction, then puts another point in under “not platonic”. It’s . . . getting to be a lot of points, at this point. No pun intended. “It matches. Like, it definitely matches.” 

Superboy doesn’t mention the fact that they’ve already touched each other’s marks to confirm, even though that’s a pretty normal thing to do upon mark-recognition. Tim makes a mental note of that, but doesn’t comment. He assumes there’s a reason for it, or otherwise why wouldn’t he? Not like Leech could argue with that, after all. 

Tana Moon follows Leech over to the group, looking a little wary herself. Tim sizes her up in his peripheral vision, pretending not to notice her approach. He’s “just” found out who his soulmate is, so he can sell the illusion of only paying attention to Superboy right now. It’s not an unusual reaction. 

It’s a pretty typical one, actually. The fact that Superboy decided to immediately show him off to everyone he knows is actually the less usual option, in fact. Not unheard of either, of course, but still. A lot of newly-discovered soulmates tend to just forget about the outside world for a few hours. Or days, even. A few missing person cases that Tim’s been involved in solving turned out to be cases of “I met my soulmate and we just eloped/ran away/went on a road trip/holed up in a hotel room without telling anyone”. 

Tim had thought it was ridiculous at the time, if obviously preferable to ending up with either a dead body or a traumatized victim, but Tim is currently in the process of planning an ethically-necessary kidnapping less than twenty-four hours after first cracking into Superboy’s file and not that much longer after first meeting him, so he supposes soulmates just bring out most people’s less pragmatic sides. 

Though he personally thinks carefully-planned ethical kidnappings are an improvement on spontaneous weekends in Vegas, pragmatically-speaking. But whatever. 

“He showed you?” Tana Moon says, glancing Tim over suspiciously. Superboy’s face reddens this time and he tugs at the slash in his own suit. 

“He, uh, saw mine first,” he says. “Kinda got into it with a dude downtown and Tim here was in the area, and like, he recognized it, obviously.” 

“It’s fairly noticeable as a mark,” Tim supplies helpfully, figuring he should be being supportive of his soulmate here, and also be shutting Rex Leech up as efficiently as possible. “And Superboy came over to check on me after the fight, so it was hard to miss.” 

“Sure it was,” Leech says, his face souring. “So then you won’t mind showin’ yours to–” 

“Shut up, Dad!” Roxy hisses, kicking him viciously hard in the ankle. Leech yelps in pain. Roxy is immediately his favorite, Tim decides. By far Roxy is his favorite. The dog’s kind of cute and Dubbilex seems decent, but definitely Roxy is his favorite. 

Her dad definitely fucking sucks, though. 

And as for Tana Moon . . . 

“You’re a tourist?” Tana says, just barely frowning down at Tim. She’s taller than him. She’s also taller than Superboy, because she’s a grown-ass woman and why, exactly, is a reporter even here right now? How is that necessary or reasonable? 

. . . admittedly she’s also taller than Leech and he’s a middle-aged man, but that’s not the point here. If Tim has to “no comment” this situation and figure out how to get either his parents or Bruce to kill a story, he absolutely will. He isn’t even slightly gonna hesitate there. He is gonna the opposite of hesitate, in fact. 

“Yes,” he lies, which might not endear him to Moon, given she’s a native, but is better than confessing to having premeditated designs on kidnapping a teen idol superhero. Especially to a reporter. 

Even if it is legally salvage. 

“I’m just in town for the day,” he continues. “I needed to get away for a little while, you know how it is.” 

“Sure,” Moon says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who doesn’t.” 

“He’s from Gotham. And he helped the civilians get out of the area while I was fighting that guy downtown!” Superboy says eagerly, which is . . . odd, actually, and throws Tim off a bit. That seems like a weird thing for Superboy to be eager about, considering. Like . . . just very weird. 

“Well, that’s a Gotham thing, probably,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish Civilian Smile (#7). “We’re used to rogue attacks with area of effect concerns involved, so we get pretty good at clearing a street.” 

“You did awesome, man!” Superboy says, grinning excitedly at him. That is . . . still weird, yeah. Tim really doesn’t get it. 

Well, maybe Superboy’s just relieved to have a soulmate who knows how to stay out of the line of fire and what to do in a crisis, given how often crisises probably come up in his life. That would make sense, considering. 

“It was nothing, just a little light crowd control,” Tim tries, assuming that’s what a normal civilian would say. Probably, right? Almost definitely. “Nobody even needed any urgent medical attention. And you used your TTK really strategically and contained the guy too, that was much more impressive to pull off in a mess like that.” 

Yeah, that was normal civilian talk, he thinks, pleased with himself for managing it. 

Superboy turns pink, then grins again. Dubbilex . . . tilts his head. 

Normal. Normal. Normal civilian. That’s what Tim is. A civilian! Who’s normal! Very, very normal! 

Normal. 

He smiles Normal Civilian Smile #4 and pats Krypto’s head again. Krypto makes an enthusiastic attempt at licking his fingers off. 

Ew. 

“‘Light crowd control’,” Moon echoes. That’s what Tim said, yeah, so he’s not sure why she’s repeating it. Well–reporter, again, so it’s probably a trap. 

It’s almost definitely a trap, actually. 

Really definitely it’s a trap. 

“Sorry to just show up like this, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says to Roxy and Dubbilex with a smile, politely pretending not to be ignoring Moon. He is definitely ignoring Moon, though. Again: reporter. She may not be a Lois Lane or even a Vicki Vale, but he’s still not giving her any information he can avoid giving her. And he’ll just ignore Leech while he’s at it, too. 

“I invited you, dude!” Superboy says with a laugh, shaking his head. “We’re gonna hit the beach for a while, go hang out. Just swung by to grab Tim a swimsuit I can lend him.” 

“You came to Hawaii to ‘get away’ and didn’t pack a swimsuit?” Moon says skeptically. 

“Yup,” Tim replies with the most placidly innocent expression he’s ever worn in his life. Nothing. He is giving her nothing. Let all her reporter instincts strike against mirrored glass and high-security privacy windows and come to naught. 

Moon stares at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to fill it. Tim doesn’t fall for the incredibly obvious bait and just keeps the placidly innocent expression on. 

She frowns. 

“C’mon, man,” Superboy says cheerfully, apparently–and fortunately–oblivious to their stand-off. He grabs Tim’s arm and drags him towards the front porch. Tim seriously doubts its structural stability, from the look of it, but tactile telekinesis is hard to argue with. 

The steps manage not to collapse–possibly also because of tactile telekinesis, Tim can’t help suspecting–and Superboy pulls him straight into the house, which is . . . not particularly well taken care of, no surprise. The furniture looks like it all came from a thrift store, and not a nice thrift store. 

Admittedly Tim’s upbringing might be showing here, but also the corners need swept and there’s random boxes of assorted Superboy merch everywhere, most of which looks like cheap junk, and a huge stack of mail and four empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and overflowing trash cans with random junk scattered around, and it’s just . . . it doesn’t look taken care of, no. Which is something Tim would expect from a teenager or two, and maybe Dubbilex doesn’t know how chore wheels work or whatever, but fucking Rex Leech should at least be capable of getting out the broom once a week. 

Assuming there is one, anyway. Tim isn’t particularly optimistic on that one, honestly. 

Superboy’s room is even messier than the living room, covered in dirty clothes and abandoned comics and crumpled-up papers, but Tim’s bedroom looks like a bomb went off in it so he’s not gonna judge. Anyway, that’s Superboy’s personal space, not a common area. He can keep it however he likes, Tim figures. 

Somebody should really sweep that living room, though. And throw out those old pizza boxes, too. 

Tim isn’t judging, just–well, no, he is very much judging, actually. Specifically what he’s judging is Rex Leech, noted asshole sleazeball manager with predatory business tactics. 

Fuck that guy, seriously. 

“You want trunks or a speedo?” Superboy asks as he lets go of his arm to fly over to the cluttered dresser. Tim turns seventeen different shades of red and nearly disassociates. 

“Trunks,” he says quickly. “Please.” 

“Gotcha, man,” Superboy says easily, and then all the dresser drawers yank out at once and dump out crumpled piles of . . . mostly swimsuits and super-suits, it looks like, yeah. Like, basically nothing else but swimsuits and super-suits and a couple of cheesy-looking Hawaiian shirts. 

Well, that might be one lonely, lonely pair of cutoffs sticking out from underneath the swimsuits. But otherwise, that’s pretty much it, yeah. 

Fuck, that’s depressing, Tim thinks. 

Superboy comes back over with an armful of swimsuits, just about all of which have the S-shield either printed or stitched on them. Tim wonders why the guy even has this many swimsuits, especially considering he barely has any other clothes at all. At least not as far as he can see, anyway. 

He also wonders if he’s gonna die if he wears Superboy’s clothes. Is that a thing that might happen? Because it really might happen, yeah. 

Also wearing something with an S-shield on it feels like just a little too much to handle right now, so Tim’s hoping for a basic black option to be buried somewhere in that pile. Given Superboy’s apparent fashion sense, it seems unlikely, but hope springs eternal. 

“Take a look, see what’s good,” Superboy says, dumping the entire armful of swimsuits on Tim. Tim’s just grateful he remembered to stick to just the trunks, at this point. 

“So you spend a lot of time on the beach, huh?” he says wryly. 

“C’mon, man, it’s Hawaii,” Superboy says with a sheepish grin. “And I mean, I look good in anything but wet leather is just not a comfortable fit, you know?” 

“I guess it wouldn’t be, no,” Tim says, giving him Civilian Smile #4 again. Superboy’s ears redden a little again, and then he leans back and zips back across the room to shove all his drawers back shut. Tim lays out the pile of swimsuits on the bed, since it’s right there anyway, and then immediately feels embarrassed to be this close to Superboy’s bed. Which is stupid, even if they aren’t platonics. They’ve just met; it’s not like anything’s gonna happen. 

. . . even if Superboy is a notorious flirt and totally shameless and–

Tim is just not gonna pursue that line of thought right now, he decides. Just for his own sanity and all. 

He accidentally knocks some paper off the bed as he’s laying out the suits to get a look at them, and reflexively leans down to pick it up. The room’s a mess, yeah, but it’s Superboy’s mess. It’s still rude to just drop shit wherever. 

The paper isn’t as crumpled as some of the others, and Tim sees a glimpse of color as he picks it up. His inner detective reflexively wonders what it is, and . . . 

Tim uncrumples the paper a little, and blinks down at it in surprise. It’s a little kid’s drawing, it looks like. A sunny beach rendered in bright colored pencil and simple, awkward shapes all painstakingly but clumsily colored in and–

Superboy’s suddenly right back next to him snatching the paper from him and immediately hiding it behind his back, looking absolutely mortified. Tim’s confused, for a moment. What’s he embarrassed about? It’s obviously not anything he’d have drawn himself. It’s probably just something a fan or a neighbor’s kid gave him, or . . . 

Tim pauses. Then he recontextualizes just how much crumpled-up paper is lying around Superboy’s room and wonders, very briefly, if a bunch of STEM majors with delusions of grandeur would’ve bothered programming their custom-designed “Superman” with anything resembling art skills. 

So . . . maybe that is something Superboy drew himself. If Cadmus didn’t program him with the muscle memory or knowledge of how to draw . . . well, then he probably would draw like a little kid, wouldn’t he. 

And given Superboy’s cocky, braggart personality and defensive ego and how all that paper is all crumpled up as if in frustration . . . 

“Gift from a fan?” Tim “assumes” with Smiling Civilian Face #4, pretending to be oblivious. 

“Uh–yeah!” Superboy blurts quickly as he jumps on the provided excuse, though he keeps the paper behind his back. “Yeah, just–you know, just some kid gave it to me at a signing, whatever. Uh, bathroom’s through there, if you wanna get changed. Or like, whatever.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says, and resists the itching urge to peek at a few more of those crumpled-up papers. It’s just a lot of paper, especially if Superboy’s upset with the results. 

He wonders why the guy draws so much, if he’s that frustrated and embarrassed by it. Maybe it’s a rebellion thing, since it’s something Cadmus didn’t want him to know how to do. Tim would definitely understand that logic, if he were in Superboy’s situation. Or maybe he’s just bothered not to know how and trying to teach himself to make up for the perceived failing. 

Or maybe he just likes it, Tim supposes. That’s an option too. 

Probably a less likely one, though, given that it’s Superboy. Not to be an asshole or anything, just it’s a lot easier picturing the guy assuming he should be able to do something and getting fixated on trying to pull it off than just, like . . . liking to draw. Also, judging by all that balled-up paper, it doesn’t seem like there’s all that much there for him to “like”, either. 

Tim takes the plainest set of trunks with a drawstring waist, which are black and dark blue but still have an S-shield iron-on patch sewn onto their waistband, for whatever reason, and ducks into the bathroom with them. He realizes belatedly that said S-shield is probably going to rest right up against his soulmark, then feels like an idiot for feeling flustered by that idea and just sets his bag against the wall and starts getting undressed. 

He’s definitely wearing one of the spare shirts in his go-bag for this, he decides as he stuffs his clothes into his bag. Just–definitely, yeah. 

The trunks fit once he cinches the drawstring enough, but the S-shield definitely does rest right against his soulmark. Tim has never actually considered the sight of the S-shield to be, like . . . relevant or interesting outside of work, but he’s realizing that he sure does feel differently about it now that he knows his soulmate’s one of the people wearing it. 

Which is a little ironic, really, considering Superboy wears the S-shield as a branding thing or whatever and lets Leech slap it on whatever cheap shitty merch he can think of. Like, he’s probably the least respectful S-wearer there is.

Tim pulls on a plain clean T-shirt and a short-sleeve button-down to go over it, figuring that’s beach-friendly enough. He should’ve packed sunglasses, probably, but he was a little distracted by his kidnapping plans and didn’t think to. 

Seriously. He didn’t think to bring sunglasses to Hawaii. 

This whole situation definitely has him off his game, yeah. 

Soulmate thing, he guesses. 

Tim eyes himself in the bathroom mirror, mentally decides he’s being an idiot to worry about how he looks right now, and then grabs his bag and heads back out into the bedroom. Superboy’s changed into low-waisted S-shield-themed trunks of his own and flip-flops and nothing else, which does in fact give Tim an embarrassingly good and embarrassingly distracting view of their soulmark. It’s not quite distracting enough for him to miss the fact that the amount of crumpled papers strewn around the room has noticeably decreased, though. And there’s definitely more of them sticking out from under the bed and dresser and in the back of the closet than there previously were. 

Which is kinda cute, honestly, but Tim should probably not say that. Like, ever. 

“Thanks for waiting,” he says, smiling Normal Civilian Smile #4 at Superboy as he hitches his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. “And for the loan.” 

Superboy stares blankly at him for half a second, then seems to startle a little and puffs himself up. 

“Uh–sure, yeah!” he says quickly. “No problem, man. Anytime.” 

“‘Anytime’ seems pretty open, as an offer,” Tim jokes, because normal civilians make that kind of joke, and Superboy turns red. 

“Oh, uh–you know what I mean!” he sputters awkwardly, holding his hands up, which seems kind of a lot as a reaction, and then somehow manages to nearly knock over his dresser without even touching it. Well–that'd be the TTK, Tim guesses. 

It wasn't even that much of a joke. Like, lame suburban dad joke territory, that's all. 

“I do, yeah,” he says with a wry smile. Superboy finds a way to turn even redder and shoves his dresser back into a corner. That also seems like kind of a lot as a reaction, but Tim doesn't comment. Just seems, well . . . awkward? Unnecessary? “Are we good to go, then?” 

“Um, yeah, yeah,” Superboy says, clearing his throat and then zipping out into the hall. Tim wonders if he always flies indoors this much. “All good, dude! Let's head out.” 

“Sure,” Tim says, keeping the smile on. Superboy is still red, but floats along down the hall. Tim follows. Okay. They’re almost definitely not platonic, but Superboy clearly isn’t any more sure what to do with that than Tim is, so . . . small favors, he guesses. Like–that they’re at least roughly on the same page there, he means. 

Unless he’s just reading into things because of weird personal biases he didn’t even know he had, and Superboy is completely straight and just kind of socially awkward around civilians, and Tim’s just being socially pressured by the background radiation of living in a society that over-values romantic soulmates in comparison to platonic ones and sometimes disavows the value of platonic soulmates altogether. 

He supposes technically they could be familial, rare as that is. It’s not like he really knows how he’d feel about having a brother. Dick’s the closest thing to one he’s ever had, and that’s just . . . not actually the same thing, obviously, even if sometimes he wishes . . . 

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure having a brother wouldn’t in any way involve this level of embarrassment and unexpected hormones and just general sexuality-questioning over every little thing. Like, that seems very much not like what having a brother would be like. So–maybe he isn’t straight, or maybe Superboy’s not actually a boy, or maybe both of those things are true, or maybe he’s just really, really bad at having a soulmate. 

Entirely possible, under the circumstances. Tim’s not really all that good at getting close to people. If he got a little confused about how to handle having a soulmate, well . . . that wouldn’t really be a surprise, would it. 

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to have to figure out how to come out to his dad or Dana or the goddamn Batman. 

One or the other, probably. 

. . . statistically speaking, the likelier explanation probably is not wanting to come out to the goddamn Batman. 

“Wanna fly someplace or just chill on the beach out front?” Superboy asks as he floats backwards into the living room. Krypto runs up and jumps on Tim excitedly, his tail wagging so hard his whole little body’s wagging with it. He’s a weird-looking little mutt, but he’s really friendly, apparently. “Krypto, oh my god, get off him.” 

“I don't mind,” Tim says, leaning down to give Krypto a polite little pat on the head. Krypto barks happily and wags his tail so hard he knocks himself over. 

Yeah, weird dog in general, Tim thinks. But again, really friendly. 

“We can go wherever,” he says. “You're the local, you know the best places to get a little time alone to hang out, right?” 

“‘Alone’?” Superboy repeats, his ears reddening again as he somehow manages to trip in mid-air and hits his head on the doorframe. Tim can probably safely write off the idea of “platonic” at this point, but is still a little bit wary of his personal bias interfering. Though . . . “Uh–yeah! Totally! Yeah! We can do that!” 

Yeah, Superboy really isn’t selling the “platonic” idea here either. 

Does Tim have a boyfriend now? Is this how boyfriends happen? 

. . . well, or a girlfriend, maybe. He still hasn’t ruled out the “maybe Superboy’s just trans�� option. That seems like a thing that might confuse his sexuality a little, if nothing else. 

This is definitely not anything like any previous girlfriend-getting he’s experienced, though. Like, not even a little bit. He’s not complaining, exactly, because admittedly it’s actually a little bit easier going into a new relationship with a plan and a cover established, even if the plan is still in flux and the relationship’s “romantic” vs “platonic” status is still unclear. It’s still something he can approach like a case, which is much more straightforward than just floundering around trying to figure out how normal people work. 

And Superboy’s about as far from a “normal person” as it gets, so really, this is a pretty ideal set-up on Tim’s end. 

Hopefully Superboy feels similarly, though he also, like . . . is lacking some pretty important information there, so . . . yeah, that might be an issue. Bruce would definitely not have appreciated Robin telling Superboy he was his soulmate, though, and who knows how Superboy would’ve even taken that. Going in as a civilian is going pretty smoothly, though, so Tim’s pretty sure it was the right choice. 

Hopefully it was, anyway. 

“Cool,” Tim says, keeping up the placid harmless civilian face and thoughts and Totally-Not-A-Vigilante vibes. Superboy does a very bad job of pretending he didn’t just bump into the doorframe and ducks back outside, putting on a cocky grin of his own as he does. It occurs to Tim, briefly, that maybe Superboy has his own catalog of performative expressions. None of his friends really seem to, but Superboy is in the community too, so . . . well, it’d make sense, right? 

Also he does sell his likeness via a sleazy manager’s sleazy business deals, so yeah. It does kind of make sense. 

Huh. That’s . . . a thought, he guesses. 

Not a thought he’d really had yet. 

Just . . . something they might have in common, Tim guesses. 

Though so is being in the community to begin with, obviously. And they're physiologically about the same age and have similar coloring, though Superboy is–well, not actually mixed with East Asian, because Krypton did not have an actual place called “Asia”, but he does have subtle hints of that look, same as Superman. Easy to mistake for just being white, but recognizable if you know what you're looking for. Superboy would be at least half-white given Westfield's DNA, Tim guesses, but . . . 

Yeah, no, he doesn't even know how to begin to figure out the nuances of racial identity on a dead planet he knows next to nothing about, much less any potential experience parallels there might be for a second-generation half-alien immigrant with effectively zero access to their own culture, but maybe he could–

Right, okay, he needs to focus here. There's some fascinating stuff there that he can theorize about and investigate later, once he's kidnapped Superboy properly. The kidnapping is the current priority, though. Like, it is very much the current priority. 

Tim follows Superboy back out onto the porch. Everyone else is still out there, which is fine in regards to Roxy and Dubbilex and not fine in regards to Leech and . . . well, jury's out on Moon, maybe. 

Also the dog. He doesn't really know about the dog. Though said dog does run after him and jump up for attention wagging his scruffy little tail hard enough to wag his whole little body, which is sort of cute. 

Or as cute as a wet dishrag can get, anyway. 

Tim’s trying not to judge Krypto for that, since obviously he didn't ask to be born as the living embodiment of a wet dishrag, and anyway he's a really friendly dog, so judging by appearances seems like a dick move. Even if Tim kind of wants to iron him, to be honest. Steam-clean, maybe. 

At least take him to a decent groomer, if nothing else. 

“Down, you little shit, Jesus!” Kon says, scowling down at Krypto and trying to shoo him away. Krypto growls at him, which seems weird, then goes back to fawning all over Tim. Tim leans down and pats his head, figuring it might calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “He is cute.” 

“Whatever,” Superboy grumbles, folding his arms and inexplicably glowering at his dog. 

“You gonna go swim, or just hang out?” Roxy asks curiously as she comes over to them again. 

“Oh, we’re–” Superboy starts, but Moon cuts him off. 

“Want some company?” Moon inquires, pleasant and suspicious all at once. Superboy looks–conflicted, momentarily, and then awkward. 

“Um, well–Tim’s only in town for today, so . . . next time?” he hedges. Tim resists the urge to eye Moon. Can I just spontaneously insert myself in your first day with your brand-new soulmate? is incredibly rude, as a suggestion. And incredibly fucking disrespectful to boot. Like, what entitled-ass kind of thing is that to ask, exactly? 

How old is she again? Twenty? Twenty-one? He should look that up later. Well–no, she’d graduated college and started her career by the time Superman had died, which was a good eight or nine months ago now, so unless she skipped a grade or two in there, she’s gotta be closer to twenty-four, if not twenty-five or twenty-six. 

That’s . . . a thought, considering there is definitely news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. Like, Tim very definitely saw news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. And she was very definitely kissing him too. 

In retrospect, that seems like something someone should’ve, like . . . done something about? Or at least addressed? And is definitely further proof of how fucking useless and slimy Rex Leech is. Sure, let the five-minute-old clone make out with a twentysomething reporter and hang out with her at home; all publicity is good publicity, so it’s fine, right? Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? 

Tim is going to absolutely decimate that bastard’s credit the first chance he gets. Leech probably already has terrible credit, mind, but he’ll make it worse. He’ll find a way. 

. . . though he’ll wait until he’s sure Roxy is eighteen and financially independent, he doesn’t actually know if she is or not. Roxy seems nice, she doesn’t deserve that particular fallout. 

“It’d be nice to get to know each other later, I’m sure,” Tim says before Moon can say anything, smiling Gala Smile #1 at her, which is a targeted psychological attack and not actually very moral to be trotting out this quick, probably. 

He has no regrets, for the record. Absolutely none. 

Moon narrows her eyes suspiciously. Tim blithely strokes Krypto’s ears, Gala Smile #1 flawless and unphased. 

“I’m sure,” she “agrees” frostily. Superboy remains apparently oblivious to the tension and grins brightly at both of them. 

“Cool!” he says. Oh, sweet summer child who has clearly never socialized with sharks, Tim thinks resignedly, petting Krypto again. Has Leech taught him literally nothing about conversational warfare, for fuck’s sake? At least living with your sleaze of a manager should be good for that, dammit! 

Then again, Leech is probably not actually competent enough to teach Superboy anything actually useful, so maybe that’s for the best. 

If nothing else, Superman could’ve taught him a bit of “bless your heart”, but apparently that’s not a thing either. 

Tim has a brief moment of dread that maybe underneath his personal list of performative expressions, Superboy might just be a straightforward and honest person, which is a concerning thought. He doesn’t even know how to talk to a straightforward and honest person at this point, after this long as Batman’s emotional support sidekick. How do you form a lasting relationship with someone who isn’t habitually using at least three layers of double-talk and constantly locked in on all your microexpressions, anyway? 

That’s going to be a weird experience, yeah. 

“Ready to go?” Superboy asks Tim, grinning brighter at him. Tim feels momentarily overwhelmed and just sort of . . . has to collect himself about that, a little. 

Or a lot. 

“Lead the way,” he says, smiling at him. He’s flustered enough to forget to use an appropriately-planned smile, which is embarrassing, but Superboy just grins even brighter–which should not be physically possible, but apparently is–and reaches out to scoop him up into his arms and into the air again as Krypto lets out an offended bark. It’s totally overkill and not even slightly necessary. 

Tim isn’t complaining, just–well–

It’s really flustering. 

“Air Superboy up, up, and away!” Superboy says cheerfully as they float up over the others’ heads. His face is way too close to Tim’s face. 

Tim is gonna need a bit longer to collect himself this time, he’s pretty sure. 

“Do I get an in-flight meal?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Superboy laughs, which is even worse than his grin, and then takes off across the beachfront with him. It’s another bridal carry, which is quietly mortifying but could be worse, probably. Maybe. 

Somehow. 

Superboy flies them straight across the beach and then straight out over the water, skimming them along just above the waves. Tim makes a briefly startled noise, reflexively tightening his grip on the strap of his bag. 

“This isn’t waterproof,” he says just as reflexively, and Superboy laughs again. 

“I’m not gonna drop you, dude,” he says. Tim actually more assumed Superboy was intending to either dive-bomb them both into the water or just dump him in on purpose, because that seems like Superboy’s sense of humor, but maybe that was an unfair assumption. 

He really is not prepared for how it feels to be held in close against Superboy’s bare chest and arms like this, even if he’s still wearing a shirt himself. The idea of possibly doing that while they’re both wet seems a lot worse. 

Yeah. Definitely worse. 

Tim should’ve worn long sleeves. And maybe a wetsuit. And maybe a few layers on top of that. 

Jesus. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he says, barely resisting the urge to loop his arms around Superboy’s neck as the other hangs a right and swoops them back around towards shore. Flying over the water like this is a pretty cool experience, admittedly, now that he’s not worried about Superboy dumping him in the water. 

Well. Less worried, anyway. 

Camera next time, Tim promises himself, glancing back over Superboy’s shoulder towards the shining horizon. The sun reflects off the waves bright and beautiful, and the sky is a smooth and perfect blue dotted with sparse but billowing clouds, and everything smells like salt and sea and leather, which is probably Superboy, even without the jacket on anymore. 

Definitely camera next time. 

“Definitely holding you to that, actually,” he says, and Superboy laughs again and brings them down in the surf just past the tideline with a splash. Neither the splash or the water goes high enough to soak Tim's bag, so he figures it could've been worse. 

Assuming Superboy isn't planning to toss him or anything before he can put his bag down somewhere safe, anyway. 

They both settle down into the surf and onto their feet, and Tim becomes very aware of how close together they’re standing and also how very, very shirtless Superboy is, and in fact the only thing between their soulmarks is the very thin layer of cotton of Tim’s own shirt, and if he leaned in just a little bit . . . 

Jesus, Tim thinks faintly, and forces himself to take a step back before he can make it weird. 

He smiles Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 just to make sure he doesn’t look like a creep or anything, and Superboy grins excitedly at him. Tim allows himself all of two seconds to be overwhelmed by that gorgeous expression and their physical closeness and the reflection of the light in Superboy’s eyes, as bright and perfectly blue as both the sky and water, and then reasserts standard operating procedures and keeps Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 locked in place on his face. 

“The water’s really warm,” he observes, glancing down at it. “Is that normal?” 

It’s probably not an impending supervillain thing, he tells himself. 

Maybe global warming or something, though. 

“I mean, feels normal to me?” Superboy says with a shrug. Tim considers mentioning the average ocean temperature, comparatively speaking, or at least the average temperature of the water off the docks in Gotham. Admittedly, Gotham waters barely count as “water”, legally speaking, but that’s not the point. 

“It’s pretty out here,” he says instead, and Superboy grins at him and leans in. He’s pretty sure it’s more an instinctive thing than a deliberate one, just from the way Superboy does it, but that doesn’t exactly make it less flattering. 

Or flustering. 

“I mean, it’s Hawaii, man!” Superboy says, grinning wider before kicking at the surf. “‘Course it’s gonna be pretty!” 

Actually you specifically are possibly the prettiest damn thing that I have ever seen, Tim thinks, but isn’t stupid enough to actually let out of his mouth. Superboy, unfortunately, continues to be all warm and grinning and lit up by island sun. Tim did not come prepared enough for this. 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’d be the guy who came to Hawaii and got a monsoon,” he says wryly, and Superboy laughs brightly. 

Tim really did not come prepared enough for this. Like, not at all. Not even slightly. 

“Guess you’d just have to come back, then,” Superboy says, grinning wider again and kicking at the surf again as he floats back up out of it. It’s–weird, a little, looking up at him like this. 

Well, not weird, just . . . yeah. 

Something like that. 

“Guess so,” Tim agrees, feeling embarrassingly flustered. Superboy’s friends can probably still see them from the porch, distant though it is, but part of him is still just considering very weird and dumb and insane ideas like maybe tugging Superboy back down to earth and into the surf and just . . . confirming the little sexuality crisis he’s been having since breaking into the other’s file and seeing their soulmark in it, maybe. 

Just, you know, ruling things out. Making deductions. Going through the process of elimination. 

Kissing him, maybe. 

He could very, very much kiss Superboy right now. They’re on a gorgeous beach in the surf and under the sun and Superboy is floating in front of him and grinning as happy and excited as could be and Tim’s stomach is fluttering in a stupid and also-embarrassing way, and . . . 

He could kiss him. That’s all. 

“I mean, it’s a nice place to visit, right?” Superboy says casually, linking his hands together behind his back. 

“The tourism industry seems to think so,” Tim says, wry again, and wonders what the “normal civilian who didn’t come here specifically looking for his soulmate to kidnap/salvage him to begin with” thing to say is here. He has absolutely no idea, because he actually has absolutely no idea how normal civilians react to superheroes. Robin is . . . not exactly an urban myth, necessarily, but definitely not a publicly-recognized superhero. He’s a vigilante that’s just barely allowed to operate outside the law, and not one with any kind of publicity or celebrity involved. 

Superboy, on the other hand, is not only a superhero, but a professional superhero. He’s selling his likeness and doing events and has signed a stupid predatory contract with a sleaze of a manager that technically shouldn’t even be legal, given Superboy isn’t even considered a legal person by the government. Apparently no one has ever realized that, though, or at least no one’s ever let Superboy realize that. 

Tim really doesn’t love that that’s a thing, to put it mildly. 

Actually, he just fucking hates it. 

Superboy laughs, and looks very, very pretty doing it. Tim continues to wonder what a normal civilian would do here, and for lack of a better idea falls back on small talk. 

God, his best plan right now is small talk. What is his life, even? 

No wonder he’s gonna have to take six months to kidnap Superboy, ugh. 

“So, uh–this seems like a weird question to be bringing up this late in the conversation, but what’s your name?” he asks, because it’s occurred to him that he actually has no idea what Superboy goes by when he’s off-duty. He knows he doesn’t have a secret identity, obviously, but there’s no way his friends just call him “Superboy”. Well–maybe his slimy asshole manager does, but otherwise. “I mean, if that’s okay to ask. Marks or not, I understand if you don’t feel like we’re there yet, given the whole superhero thing and all.” 

Robin knows Superboy doesn’t have a secret identity, after all, but Tim Drake is a normal civilian and shouldn’t act like he knows too much about any superhero in general, so–

“Naw, it’s fine, I don’t even have one,” Superboy says, for some reason just beaming at him, which is . . . weird, Tim thinks, but nowhere near as weird as that answer is. 

“You don’t . . . have one?” he repeats slowly, and Superboy shrugs easily. “Like–not at all?” 

“Yeah, everybody pretty much just calls me 'Kid' or 'SB', when it's not Superboy,” Superboy confirms. “Oh, and Knockout calls me 'Pup' when she's around but like, that's really just a 'her' thing and she’s low-key a supervillain, so yeah. So, you know, you can call me whatever.” 

Tim stares blankly at him for a long, long moment, speed-runs all five stages of grief, and also discovers a couple of new and unexpected ones. 

Alright. Well, he officially regrets literally nothing about this impending kidnapping. 

“Oh, okay,” he says. “Um–sorry, I guess I just assumed you’d have a more . . . civilian-ish name too, I guess?” 

“I’m a clone, man,” Superboy says, looking like he thinks Tim’s said something funny. “The only other name I’ve got is ‘Experiment Thirteen’, which is definitely not something I answer to.” 

Tim discovers a few more stages of grief that hit with all the subtlety of a spiked baseball bat and makes himself nod as much like a normal person as he can. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d go for that one if I were you either,” he says. “Kind of a mouthful, if nothing else.” 

Superboy laughs, then grins at him again. He is actually doing so, so much of that, Tim’s realizing. Tim was really not prepared for how much of that he’s been doing, in fact. He just did not come prepared for any of that at all. He’s got some nebulous kidnapping plans, but everything else here–from the supervillain attack to Superboy’s ripped suit and exposed soulmark–has been a crime of opportunity. 

He probably should’ve done more research. Actually, he definitely should’ve done more research. He kind of just panicked and bought a ticket and flew right over, and just because Dick didn’t stop him doesn’t mean it was a good idea. He just–he should’ve done more research. Planned more. Not shown up without something concrete. 

Admittedly Superboy doesn’t hate him yet or anything, but this was just . . . yeah, this was not his brightest idea at all. Not even slightly. 

Why didn’t he do more research? 

“You really can just call me whatever you wanna, don’t worry about it,” Superboy says with another one of those too-easy shrugs as he settles back down into the surf, which, unfortunately, puts him back into kissing range and is therefore incredibly distracting. 

Dammit, Tim thinks, trying to beat his stupid teenage hormones into order. Why is he even a teenager at all? It’s so inconvenient. He really needs to live to twenty just so he can stop being one, because god forbid he die at fifteen too and end up, like, a teenage ghost or something. He would just not be okay with that. He feels even worse for Jason thinking about that, actually. 

“Whatever I want?” he repeats, because he’s an idiot with no control over his hormones whatsoever. 

He really needs to make it to twenty. 

“Well, except for Experiment Thirteen. That one sucks,” Superboy says with another grin. Tim politely pretends not to notice the slight tightening of the corners of the other’s mouth as he says it. 

“Uh, okay,” he says, clearing his throat. He guesses Superboy doesn’t really care what his name is, then, but being told to just call him whatever he wants to is . . . well, a weird feeling, maybe. “What do you do when you just want to be a civilian for a while, though?” 

“I don’t,” Superboy says. 

“. . . don’t . . . what?” Tim asks slowly, not sure if he should be dreading the answer or not, but–

“Be a civilian,” Superboy says. 

Tim’s running out of new stages of grief, he’s pretty sure. 

“Ah,” he says. 

Superboy–for a second, Tim thinks he looks self-conscious, but then he’s grinning again before he can be sure, and . . . 

“Why would I, man?” Superboy says, puffing up proudly. “I’m Superboy! Nothing else I’d rather be.” 

Given how limited Superboy’s options for anything “else” he could be probably are . . . well, Tim’s not sure what to think of that statement. He doesn’t think it’s anything good, whatever it is. 

Yeah, he thinks as he looks at Superboy’s too-bright grin and thinks about how he just said "nothing" and not "no one". Definitely not anything good. Whether that was intentional or just an unknowing slip . . . well, who wouldn’t pick being “Superboy” over being “Experiment Thirteen”? 

And what else would Superboy even know how to pick, if he thought those were his only options? 

“Doesn’t that get . . . tiring?” Tim asks carefully. “Being Superboy all the time?” 

Superboy blinks. Tilts his head. 

And so, so obviously doesn’t understand the question. 

Dammit, Tim thinks. 

“Naw, man,” Superboy says confidently, grinning at him. “It’s great!” 

Tim genuinely cannot imagine how it could even be mediocre. They’re very different people, obviously, but–always? Always being the hero persona? Only being the hero persona? 

Not even being able to call it a persona, because it was all you ever were or had been? 

Even normal celebrities dress down sometimes or try to sneak around under the radar. A celebrity superhero . . . how does Superboy even do anything? Ever? It’s not like he lives in a gated community or a wealthy area or around any other famous people or superheroes; he’s an anomaly in both Hawaii in general and in his neighborhood specifically, as far as Tim can tell. Well–as much as he’s in a “neighborhood”, anyway. There seems to be a decent amount of space between houses, which makes Tim wonder exactly how expensive this house was, especially since it’s basically right on the beach, but also it’s not in particularly good condition and– 

God, he really wants a look at the setup of Superboy’s licensing deals, actually. And his bank balances and investments and just anything like that. And specifically, Rex Leech’s finances in relation to those deals and balances and investments. 

Seriously, fuck that guy. Tim wouldn’t trust Rex Leech with his spare change, much less literally everything about the entire livelihood of a teen idol with limited legal personhood. 

“Oh, cool,” he says with a very careful reissue of Civilian Smile #7, trying to sound like he isn’t actively fantasizing about faxing all of Rex Leech’s tax returns for the last entirety-of-Superboy’s-existence to the IRS with some very pointed notes in red pen. 

Very pointed. 

Superboy grins at him again. Tim thinks he’s going to have to start just inventing new stages of grief, at this point. The current ones aren’t going to cover this situation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought it might be a little harder to hang out together if you’re really never doing the civilian look,” he tries, and Superboy–stills, suddenly, and the grin vanishes all at once. Tim has a moment to be split between having an anxiety attack about having said the wrong thing or having an anxiety attack about the supervillain attack that’s about to land on his head when he still doesn’t have a mask, and then–

“You–what?” Superboy asks, looking startled. “I mean, uh–like–you wouldn’t get bored doin’ that?” 

“. . . hanging out with you?” Tim asks blankly. They’re soulmates. And also Superboy is quite possibly the literally least boring person he has ever met, douchey shades or not, and the list of “least boring” people in his life includes Bruce and Dick and more superheroes than he could shake his bo stick at. How is someone getting bored around him even a concern that would occur to Superboy? Like, literally ever? 

“No, I mean–” Superboy turns red, looking briefly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t have more fun hangin’ out with Superboy than just, uh–some guy?” 

It takes all of Tim’s Bat-training and gala-experience to not stare at him over that. That–what kind of question is that? 

“I mean, I’m just some guy,” he lies. “But I just meant it’d be way easier to hang out if we weren’t having to deal with people bugging you for selfies or autographs or whatever all the time, you know?” 

“I–uh, I guess,” Superboy says, still looking flustered. “Like–probably, I guess.” 

“Also I don’t want, like, a Gotham rogue randomly deciding you being in town is a good reason to start some shit,” Tim says wryly, because he definitely does not want that, in fact. “Feel like Batman wouldn’t like that very much.” 

“You believe in Batman, dude?” Superboy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re a half-alien clone and you think Batman’s hard to believe in?” Tim attempts to deflect with, because that was definitely a fuck-up on his part, and Superboy just laughs. 

“No, man, I just have literally never met a Gothamite who’d admit to believing Batman was a real dude,” he says. “I literally met Robin like a week ago and, like, pretty sure he was low-key trying to convince me he didn’t believe Batman existed.” 

It was not even a week, Tim thinks, mildly indignant for no good reason, then puts Dubious Civilian Expression #1 on his face and rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Batman’s one thing, but no one actually thinks Robin’s real,” he snorts, and Superboy laughs again, sounding straight-up delighted about it. 

“No, he totally is!” he protests, grinning at him again too and linking his hands together behind his back as he leans towards him, which is incredibly, incredibly distracting for him. “Dude’s got the sick flips and everything and I totally saved his ass from Metallo. And, uh, then he totally saved my ass from Poison Ivy. Long story. Also he’s got a stick up his ass, like legit you would think that was where he kept that quarterstaff thing of his.” 

This is a dangerous topic, Tim recognizes while forcing down the instinct to reply it’s a bo staff, actually, they’re pretty different, and tries to figure out how to change the subject as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Robin talk is not a good idea right now, when there’s a risk of Superboy possibly noticing something about him, what with meeting Robin a reasonably fresh experience in his mind. 

Not that fresh, apparently, since he thinks it was “like a week” ago. But whatever. Not the point. Tim’s just annoyed by the inaccurate intel. 

. . . seriously. A week? 

“Batman or not, you apparently already have beef with Poison Ivy, so definitely I’d be worried about you being publicly in town without needing to pack a super-powered weed-whacker,” he says wryly instead of anything more damning or secret-identity-blowing. Superboy looks–weird, for a moment, leaning back a little bit to straighten back up. 

“You’d, like–actually be cool with me visiting you in Gotham? Like–that wouldn’t be annoying or whatever?” he asks, sounding just barely uncertain about it, and Tim again has to force himself not to stare at him. First: Superboy being any kind of uncertain whatsoever is the weirdest thing he’s ever seen, and second: they’re soulmates. People will spend a lot more time with their soulmates than occasionally visiting each other in different cities, especially five minutes after meeting them when they’re still trying to figure out who and what they are to each other. Again: Tim has investigated multiple missing persons cases that turned out to be “I found my soulmate” cases! Multiple! In Gotham, even! 

“Yes,” he says instead of any of that. “I would actually really like you to, in fact.” 

“Oh,” Superboy says, and turns red again. “I–uh–yeah, I guess that’d be cheaper than you needing to buy a plane ticket or run up your phone bill if you ever feel like shooting the shit or whatever, huh?” 

“I have unlimited minutes, actually,” Tim says, forcing down another stare. The staring would not help, at this moment. Or like–ever, probably. “And the plane ticket was only like a week’s allowance, plus my dad’s got a disgusting amount of frequent flyer miles saved up he never remembers to use anyway. I’ll buy you a plane ticket if you don’t feel like flying yourself.” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says. Tim should stop talking, probably, but– 

“Also you’re my soulmate,” he says. “I could get, I dunno, an after-school job if I actually needed to cover anything like that. I just figured we could take turns flying over or something. I mean, if you decided to go to college in Gotham in a couple years or something I wouldn’t complain, obviously, just we’ve just met and that seems like a bit much to suggest first thing. Especially, uh, since you don’t actually have any transcripts, apparently. Um. Just, well, if you ever did want to be a civilian sometimes . . . like, eventually, I mean? Well, Gotham would probably be a good place to hide a Super, right? Nobody’d expect to see you there, and it’s not like you can’t commute.” 

Superboy is staring at him now. Tim thinks maybe he said something wrong after all. Or maybe the lycra rando is about to jump him from behind. 

Fifty-fifty, given the way his life tends to go. 

“Um,” he says. “Like–no pressure or anything. I could also look into colleges out here, do you know if there’s any good programming–uh, programs around? Like just tech in general.” 

Superboy is still staring at him. 

. . . okay, at this point, it’s probably that Tim said something wrong, yeah. 

God, he’s usually so much better at subtle social manipulations. Is this the panicking thing again? Is he panicking again? 

Apparently, yeah. 

“Um,” Tim says again. Superboy jolts like he’s just gotten shocked by static electricity or something and turns blazingly red. 

That is definitely not a color achievable by human circulatory systems, yeah. 

“Uh!” Superboy says, looking incredibly awkward for a second and then clearly forcing a casual, cocky pose as he raises an eyebrow at him with a smirk. It might come across as more convincingly casual if he weren’t still blushing, but Tim isn’t going to judge; blushing is generally an involuntary response. “I dunno, man, I don’t ask the college babes what their classes are like, you know? Not really my priority in the conversation.” 

. . . Tim might judge a little. Just, like–in passing. 

He really needs to figure out if they’re platonic or not. Just–very much so does he need to figure that out. 

“Well, if you get the chance next time, maybe you could just see what they think about the curriculum,” he suggests, because maybe they are platonic, and Superboy–hesitates, for a second, and then Tim’s not sure if he said something stupid or not, and then Superboy just grins at him again, crooked and easy, and it sort of fries Tim’s brain a little. 

Okay, so like . . . uh. Another mark against platonic, Tim guesses while he’s trying to remember how his slightly-fried brain even works. At least another mark against platonic on his end, anyway. Superboy talking about “college babes” is kind of a mark for platonic, admittedly. 

Unfortunately, Tim is still the guy whose first reaction to finding out Superboy was his soulmate was “wait, am I gay?”, so . . . yeah. 

So like, that’s a few things he’s gonna have to process at some point this week, he guesses. 

He can probably fit it in Thursday, he tells himself. 

“I mean, if you want me to chat up some campus coeds for ya, I guess I can be a soul-bro like that,” Superboy says, grinning wider. His grin is unfortunately gorgeous, and the statement is unfortunately heterosexual. Or at least very strongly platonic-soulmate-leaning, anyway. 

And Tim, to his awkward embarrassment, thinks he might actually be disappointed by that. 

. . . maybe he’ll fit in his processing on Sunday, he amends. Sunday he has a little more spare time to work with, and there’s just . . . going to be a lot of it, definitely. 

Just a lot. 

[rogueddie]

A gay bar is the last place Steve ever thought he'd be, yet here he sits.

He keeps looking over to Robin- not too much, just enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's still having fun. Although, he's sure he doesn't need to be worrying.

The girl who'd caught Robins eye is small, feminine. She looks like a sweetheart and she keeps getting Robin flustered. They're cute together, clearly into eachother, and Steve couldn't be happier.

Even sat alone, feeling completely out of place and a little uncomfortable, seeing Robin able to flirt with someone so openly is… he just feels relieved.

He should have thought to bring her here sooner.

"Hey there." The man smiles when Steve flinches. It's a soft smile, kind. "You wanna dance?"

"Oh, uh, I don't- I mean, uh-"

"Woah, don't panic. It's just a dance, right? You look uncomfortable is all and seeing you sat alone with your big fucking puppy dog eyes is just sad." He gently nudges Steves chin up when he tries to look down, feeling awkward. His finger lingers a little, brushing along his jaw. "You don't wanna have a fun night out? I won't be offended if you say no."

And, ok, Steve's a little tipsy. He's sure he'd never agree if he were sober- it wouldn't have felt fair. The guy is clearly attracted to him, not even trying to hide the way he's eyeing him.

But Steve's buzz is more annoying than pleasant and dancing does sound fun. So he agrees, accepts the hand offered and lets the guy pull him into the crowd.

The guy keeps his distance. Anytime the crowd jolts Steve toward him, he steps back the same amount, keeping a solid foot between them. But he's grinning, yelling jokes over the music, unabashedly dancing like an idiot.

It's great, it's fun. Steve can't stop grinning, stomach starting to ache with how much he's been laughing.

Eventually, a slower song comes on, stronger sexual undertones. The guy (Eddie, he'd leant in to tell Steve when asked, explaining that he knew Steve because they used to be in the same year as in Hawkins) shrugs, pulling an exaggerated face that screams 'what-can-you-do'. He's turning away.

But Steve grabs his wrist, Eddie looking back with raised eyebrows.

"This alright then, pretty boy?" He asks after stepping in close. His hands rest low on his hips.

Steve nods, flushing. He automatically puts his hands on his shoulders, letting Eddie lead him through a weirdly intimate sort of slow dance. And Steve is suprised to find himself… into it? He's not sure.

He feels less tipsy, so he can't blame the easy blushes or the way his stomach flips on the alcohol. There's no excuse for how he's started looking at Eddie either, paying a little too much attention to the way he moves, how his hands feel when they slowly start to wonder.

He gently brushes Eddies hair out the way without thinking, tucking it behind his ear so he can see the tattoo on his neck. Eddie tilts his head slightly, baring his neck a little more. When he glances up, Eddie is watching him, curiously.

"Hate to sound pressumptious," he drawls, taking a small step forward so their chests are pressed together, "but it feels like you're making moves on me, big boy."

"What if I am? What happens then?"

"Maybe I'd ask if you're sober enough to drive or if we need to call a cab." He leans back a little when Steve moves to kiss him. He hums, smirking. "Or maybe I'd ask for your number. I'm a classy lady, Harrington; what if I don't put out on the first date?"

"I've never said no to a challange."

Eddie barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle some of the people swaying beside them. "As if."

"What? You're like... pretty."

"Pretty," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "People know I'm a fag, Steve. Even being seen with me like we're 'just friends' would fucking ruin you."

"Your point?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna put money on that?"

Eddie eyes him for a second, his derision melting into curiosity. "You want to make a bet on whether you'll date me or not?"

"Why not? One of us wins money in a bet, we both score a date, and-"

"I thought you were straight."

"Yeah, me too. But I don't think straight guys think about you like I am, right now."

Eddie steps back, considering. It's a long, tense, moment before he finally sticks his hand out. Steve quickly shakes his hand, grinning.

"You've got yourself a deal."

[katyawriteswhump]

omega snuggle services

Rating: M; Words: 3800; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, fluff, nesting, emotional hurt/comfort, mild angst, some minor sexual content, scenting and smells, soft everyone, happy ever after. For @stmarchmm day 30 prompt, Alpha/Omega nests (really sorry, this one was already late then was the major casualty when my laptop died!) Also for @steddiebingo fill, Dream. Billion thanks to the always inspiring @moonjelly69 who fed me with the idea of people always assuming Steve is a non-traditional Omega when he’s actually super-domestic, and with the celia plant, which is from this amazing post.

Summary: A!Eddie is suffering from insomnia. O!Steve offers himself up for ‘snuggle services’—basically, Eddie gets to cuddle a cute, purry Omega in bed and see if it helps him unwind. Soon, Steve is building Eddie a nest. Eddie is sleeping slightly better, while discovering that he’s not the only one in desperate need of snuggles, comfort… and a true soul connection. Read on Ao3

💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤

“Do you want to try Steve?”

It's not a question you expect when you’re ordering ice cream. Eddie had been explaining to Robin why he currently resembled Ozzy after a week-long bat-munching bender. In more tedious terms—about his life-wrecking insomnia. His zombie-brain can’t follow her drift. 

He blinks blearily. “Huh?”

“When I was struggling with sleep a while back, Steve really came through. He’s not a miracle sleeping pill cure or anything, but he loves to help people, and I’m sure he’ll be up for it. He helped Chrissy a week or so back and, you know, some Omegas do it professionally. I mean, snuggle services.”

Right. She’s not upselling a bizarrely named ice-cream flavor. She’s suggesting he hooks up with ex-douche-extraordinaire Steve Harrington. In order to cuddle him in bed. Like a Teddy Bear.

So many questions and objections swirl in his mind. He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. 

“It’s Steve’s afternoon off.” Robin scribbles on the back of a receipt slip. “Here’s his number—hit him up. Uuuuh, you're causing a queue now, shit-bird, scram.”

Eddie scrams with his melty banoffee ice-cream cone and calls Steve. It isn’t as awkward as he thinks it’s going to be. Steve is totally, “Damn that sucks,” then, “Yeah, that’s cool,” and says he’ll be over around 10pm.

He doesn’t seem to care that they weren’t exactly besties at High School and that, really, they barely know each other. He tells Eddie he’s thinking of going professional, “It’s not like I’ve got a ton of other career options,” he points out.

He promises he won’t charge Eddie. He’s still practicing, and he genuinely wants to help Eddie sleep better.

When he’s hung up, Eddie stares, guilt-stricken, at the phone.

Would Steve really offer this service to Eddie if he knew Eddie was an Alpha? 

Eddie is so ‘not out’ that he ought to convert the whole trailer into a closet. He wears blockers so strong they’re barely legal. Only Wayne knows. Eddie can’t handle the baggage attached to being such a rare designation in a small town.

Steve never got that choice.

Steve Harrington’s presentation had been legendary, happening one morning in Double Math. His Omega pheromones perfumed the classroom so thick and fast the whole damn school knew that King Steve was a ditzy little O-head by third period.

That was history, though. 

Eddie has to admit he found Steve attractive even before he presented and there was something mega catnip-y about Steve’s earthy, herby scent. Which underlined the cold hard fact. No way should Eddie be enticing an Omega who’d no idea he was an Alpha to, basically, sleep with him.

He sweats over it. At 9pm, he picks up the phone to cancel. Nobody answers. Two minutes later, somebody knocks on the trailer door.  “Helloooeeee, it’s me. Steve.”

Yeah, Eddie can smell that, and it’s reshuffling his brain chemistry. Holy fuck, does that boy bother with blockers at all? Steve bustles in, looking cute as fuck, hair all soft like he’s washed it for bed already. He’s also got a large knapsack slung over one shoulder. “Hey. I know I’m early. Hope that’s okay? I brought some stuff that might help and I need to set it up. Hope you don’t mind? Where’s your nest?”

Eddie reverts to his insomnia-addled mind’s word of the day. “Huh?”

“Your Alpha nest? You do have one, right?”

“I got a bedroom. Erm, how exactly do you know about…?” Steve’s nostrils flare and he follows his nose to Eddie’s little room. Not that it’s exactly hard to find. Eddie’s brain, meanwhile, literally gives up and implodes. He plonks his butt down on the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How do you know I’m an Alpha?”

“I’m an Omega! Had my suspicions since Junior Year.” Steve sniffs a discarded sock—actually kinda inhales it, which is brave—and giggles. “No doubts now. This place is so damn Alpha it might as well sprout fangs. Tho’ it’s not exactly… nesty, is it? I’ve been reading the Snuggle Services Manual. Alphas benefit from nests nearly as much as Omegas.”

“There’s a manual? Should Alphas and Omegas, really… Uuuuuh, does Buckley know?”

“About the manual? Or you still fretting about the Alpha thing? If so, no, I don’t think she knows.” Steve tidies Eddie’s things away into boxes and draws. Eddie usually hates anybody touching his precious horde. He doesn’t mind Steve doing it. Maybe he’s too dog-tired to care. “Betas don’t pick these things up so well.” 

“Is she gonna kill me?”

“Depends.” Steve pauses to lick his lips and they’re all shiny and wet. “Gonna be straight with you—the manual says I shouldn’t snuggle with Alphas till I’m more experienced and learned about contracts and shit. But Robin and Henderson tell me you’re a good dude. So, are you gonna eat me?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool. Robin will be fine. Look, we’re both wearing blockers, right?”  Seriously? How delicious does Steve smell without them? “And you’re taking suppressants?” Eddie nods. “Great. Me too. All we have to do is avoid scenting each other, rubbing any parts together. Now, chill, Eddie. I’m getting stress vibes, and that’s not gonna help. I’ll make this place more nest-like, then we get down to business.”

Steve gets on with ‘nesting’ the place up and pulls more squashed cushions from his knapsack than seems physically possible. Eddie lies on his bed, fingers laced behind his head and watches. Which is fun. Then not fun, when it occurs that ogling Steve’s ass is probably not textbook Snuggle Services behaviour. 

He closes his eyes and breathes Steve in. Damn, Steve’s scent is even more fragrant and sweet tonight than the ‘sleepy honey’ tealights he’s distributing about the place.

Eddie is starting to chill a bit. Then he opens his eyes and mumbles something about not expecting Steve to be into all this domestic baloney.

“Look, I’m an Omega! It’s so annoying that everyone presumes I’m non-traditional, because I’m into sports and shit too.”

 “Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, don’t apologise. I’m sorry for going off on one. Hey, you want a quick shoulder massage?”  That sounds pretty nice. Steve kneels behind him on the bed and gets his thumbs right into Eddie’s super-tense trap muscles. “Honestly, tho’,” sighs Steve, while Eddie leans into the Omega’s touch, which feels incredible. “I reckon I’d love homemaking and nestbuilding if I was Beta or Alpha or whatever.” 

Soon, Eddie’s shoulders are tingling, and when Steve stops the shoulder rub, he almost growls. Instead, he sinks into Steve’s nest of soft fuzzy cushions, intermingled with Eddie’s own bedding. Steve skips off then returns wearing a ridiculously cute pair of Winnie the Pooh PJs, with short lace-trimmed pants that cling to the shallow swell of his hips. He looks so soft and Omega. He’s also displaying a swathe of lickable thigh, and, when he stretches his arms in a yawn, he flashes a hint of creamy tummy.

Gnnnnng. 

How is Eddie supposed to sleep when his inner Alpha is baying for the energy to jump Steve’s bones?

The hot milky drink Steve offers distracts him slightly. “It’s spiced with hops, lavender and a little touch of celia.” Steve explains that celia, which tinges the milk a pretty pink, is a herb that grows wild in the forest. It’s rare, and blends with the hops, cherry and lavender to concoct a deliciously relaxing blend. It all rings a distant bell, actually. Eddie is pretty sure his granny used it for the same reason, and he’d totally forgot. 

He takes a sip. Hops, earth-mint and hints of mysteria blunova tingle against his tastebuds, mixed with the punchy cherry and smoky lavender. He blurts it out before he can stop himself: “Woah! This is delicious. It tastes a little bit like you, Steve.”

Steve beams. “Yeah, that’s what Robin said. It’s one of the reasons I thought this could be a good career move.”

Eddie savors every last drop, including his milk moustache. Finally, Steve mildly scolds him for suggesting music at bedtime. “No way! It’ll spoil our rhythms. You know, breathing and purring and all the sleepy stuff.”

“Ever thought of bringing a whip to these little parties, Mistress?”

Steve smirks: “Wasn’t in the manual.”

They get down to the business of snuggling. Eddie prays to a dozen deities that he won’t get an erection. 

In the event, it goes better than expected.

Steve curls against his side, head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin, and Eddie folds an arm over him, his lightly brushing fingers avoiding any bare flesh. With an Omega this close, Eddie knows he must be perfuming a bit, but Steve is out like a light. Eddie’s nerves settle soon enough. A gentle heat thrums between them, and Steve’s scent, mingled with the sweet smelly candles, makes every breath a comfort.

Robin is right in that Steve isn’t a miracle cure for insomnia. Doesn’t matter. Eddie feels relaxed and sleepy, tho’ when Steve starts snuffling into Eddie’s chest, it’s so damn cute, he pries his heavy eyelids wide to watch.

As Steve’s sleep gets deeper, Eddie’s breaths fall into sync. 

Wow, and Omegas really do purr in their sleep, and it feels freakin’ exquisite.

Eddie drifts off eventually—it’s shallow, but he gets about four hours, which is the best he’s had in a fortnight. He feels refreshed and waking with an Omega burrowed into him plants him immediately in a happy place. Steve is a little disappointed that Eddie didn’t sleep more:

“We should try again,” he says, gathering up his stuff. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You sure I shouldn’t pay you?” asks Eddie, even though it sounds a bit weird. And he literally has no spare cash.

“No way. Look, if I decide to go into this professionally, a reference would be cool.”

“From Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?”

“Why not? It looks better than from my mom.” Eddie isn’t sure about that. Steve adds, kind of sadly, “At least folk in this town still remember who you are.”

Huh?

Steve comes back the following night, and they hang out and chill before bedtime. Once they’re in the nest, Steve drops off so fast that Eddie’s barely got his arms around him. This time, when Steve snuffles into his chest, Eddie gets a semi. He breathes through it, brushes a thumb, featherlight, across Steve’s cheek, and simply enjoys watching the Omega sleep.

The next night, they talk. More than Eddie’s talked to anybody in a while. Even to Wayne, who’s always ready to make time, tho’ he’s usually exhausted too, from constant nightshifts.

“Why do you keep it a secret?” asks Steve, as Eddie sips some silky-luscious cream-topped hot chocolate that Steve has mixed with the sleepy herbs.

“Huh?” Eddie’s tired head is back in default mode, stuffed with cotton wool.

“Being an Alpha, dude.”

Oh right. He licks the cream from his lips, plops his mug down on the floor besides the beanbag they’re snuggling on.

“I like being a ‘freak’ for my sweet tatties and totally metal hair. Or what counts for it these days.” 

He scrunches the lank mess. 

Steve—with what might’ve been an excited squeak—moves around the back of the beanbag and starts brushing Eddie’s hair. It’s the second time he’s done this, and it feels amazing, even the snags and tugs. Scratch that, especially the snags and tugs. How the heck does Steve do it without any sting? 

Eddie forces his mind onto the matter in hand. “I don’t wanna be infamous for what I can do with my dick. Besides, my old man was an Alpha. The whole Hawkins pack would assume more than ever that I was his clone. Chief Alpha Hopper would either dump my ass in jail or run me outta town.”

Steve hisses sympathetically. He rubs circles on Eddie’s scalp, scratching lightly with his nails. It feels so good Eddie’s toes curl.

“I get that,” says Steve. “I’m happy you can wait till the time is right.  Honestly, I wanted to curl in a corner and die of humiliation for six months after I outed myself. You learn to roll with it.”

Eddie’s grimace is heartfelt: “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a coward?”

“Don’t be dumb.” And he’s halfway into Eddie’s lap again, cheek nestling above Eddie’s heart, offering a soul-warming, full-body hug. “You’ve been on your own since you were a kid. You’ve had Wayne, but it’s been tough. Alphas need to be looked after too. You know, learn to trust.” 

He gives a sudden brittle laugh.

“Steve?”

“Oh, it’s kinda funny. Me spouting this shit like I’m some kind of authority. My parents trust me a bit too much. I mean, since I presented... they’re like… out of town. Permanently.”

“Wow.” Eddie tentatively moves to pet Steve’s hair, and Steve lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“They don’t say it out loud, but… I’m pretty sure it’s because I shamed them. It’s all right. I got people I trust. Robin, Dustin... and... erm, others.”

Eddie’s heart gives a sharp squeeze. Everyone knew the story of the fall of King Steve. He supposed—like everyone else, probably—that Steve still had a bunch of people around him to help pick up the pieces. Now, he doesn’t know what to say. He tries, “Do you count the town’s most closeted Alpha freak among that body of worthies?” 

“Sure. I trusted you super-quick, didn’t I? Besides, you’re really not that freakish, certainly not in a bad way. Sssssh, don’t worry, I won’t ‘out’ you on that either.” Steve’s giggle warms up again. His arms tighten around Eddie, whose cheek finds Steve’s hair. 

He loses himself in the cuddle.

Okay, his dick twitches with interest as Steve sprawls fully on top of him, weight pressuring into Eddie’s lap. He tries to ignore it. 

After a week, sleeping with Steve is pretty routine. Steve’s stopped taking his cushions home at night. The nest is basically nested in. They even begin listening to music before lights out—psychedelic Pink Floyd, mainly, which is about as mellow as Eddie gets. He still takes hours to drop off, while Steve is quick as ever. Having a soft purry Omega in his arms is almost as good as sleep anyhow, as is having a proper nest swaddled around him. Soon Eddie is pushing the six-hour mark.

He ‘outs’ himself to Gareth and the guys. Gareth rolls his eyes and mumbles, “We know. Took your sweet time, asshole.”

He grovels for forgiveness in a truly un-Alpha fashion, and Jeff flips the bird then offers a chummy hug. It feels so good not having to hide from his best buds.

When Steve massages his shoulders that night, he notices that Eddie’s “loosened up something wild. You finally spilled? Go Eddie!”

The next few days, Eddie grins broadly at everyone he passes in the street, flashing his Alpha fangs. He’s gotten his swagger back. The ‘freak’ is out and proud and back in business. Hopper doesn’t hound him out of town. He hands Eddie an application form for the police force, which is plain baffling.

That weekend, there’s a strange tartness to Steve’s scent. Eddie’s nostrils flare, concern sparking in his gut. He offers Steve a shoulder rub, and after a bit of squirming, Steve accepts, and following some gentle persuasion, he opens up.

His parents made a flying visit. They didn’t notice that the sheets on Steve’s bed were covered in dust. Nor noticed or cared that Steve left the house after an awkward dinner and never came home again. When he returned in the morning, they were gone.

Eddie pulls Steve into his lap and clasps him to his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles across Steve’s hip and lower back, and he inhales, exhales, deep and even, coaxing Steve’s choppier than usual breaths into rhythm with his.

 When Steve gets sleepy, he carries the Omega to the nest.

The Omega who loves to care for people, and yet is barely noticed by the wider pack, and has no family around to care for him.

The Omega who radiates relaxation and sweetness all rolled up into a bundle of sexy yum, with big hazel-brown eyes that’d soothe anybody’s soul.

Eddie blankets himself around Steve, so desperate to console the Omega that he’s suddenly worried he’s squishing him. He loosens his hold slightly. Steve sighs, rolls over in the circle of Eddie’s arms, and buries his face hilariously close to Eddie’s sweaty pit. Eddie cackles softly.

Nuzzling straight into the pit? Fucking brave. How could anybody of any designation not want to build a nest around Steve? 

That night, Eddie starts having wildly lucid dreams about domestic bliss with Steve. The dreams soon become as routine as sleeping together.

In Eddie’s slumbers, they’ve gotten their own little Winnebago, and they’re building a truly family-sized nest in it, woven with all their favorite things. They’re baking together too, starting with banoffee pie, which is Eddie’s top fave dessert, tho’ they develop quite the repertoire—cookies, muffins, chocolate brownies, blueberry pancakes. 

Nothing sexual happens, thank the Gods of Metal. Unless you count the dream where Eddie buys Steve a pair of fuzzy bear slippers to match his cute lacy PJs. He kneels before his… the… Omega to slide them on and might’ve planted a light peck on Steve’s ankle. Okay, his inner thigh. Either way, a slight case of morning wood is inevitable when Eddie wakes with Steve, so he’s relieved things don’t get more raunchy than that. 

The last thing he wants is a raging boner.

Then they kiss.

It is definitely part of the dream. They’re cooking in their stupidly cramped little kitchen, and suddenly Steve is nuzzling up his throat, rubbing and scenting, and his soft snuffles and purrs are too darn much. Eddie gently rests his hand on Steve’s head, holding him in place, no pressure. Eddie’s thumb toys with the hair at Steve’s nape, while Steve’s mouth drifts ever upward.

Then his lips capture Steve’s for a slow, lazy kiss. He licks the seam of Steve’s mouth. Steve opens for him, sliding his tongue slickly and sweetly against Eddie’s. The kiss tastes amazing. Not of the key-lime pie they were baking in the dream, but of lavender, hops and celia—the herbs in those amazing milky drinks Steve makes—and a hint of Eddie’s freshly cut grass and leather.

Too delicious. Too much. Too darn hot.

Eddie growls into the kiss like a ravenous grizzly, his every fiber heating and hardening. He wants Steve so bad, and not only to fuck him. They’re lightyears beyond that, and he moves his mouth to Steve’s neck. The Omega vibrates with irresistible little purrs, mewling with need for...

Eddie wakes up. 

Eddie’s got Steve clamped against his side, pretty much trapped there. Steve’s gotten one bare leg hitched up, spreading himself, and Eddie’s hand is wrapped, claw-like, around Steve’s thigh. The Omega’s chin is wedged on Eddie’s shoulder, his face tipped up. Their mouths are so close the air between them is moist with their fast, panted breaths. 

Steve doesn’t look scared or angry, only pink-cheeked and sleepily confused, blinking mussed hair from his eyes.

It’s a look Eddie’s grown to adore.

Their mingled scents are so thick Eddie could chew on them.

And he’s so freakin’ hard he’s concerned he’s gonna pop a knot.

He releases Steve so abruptly the Omega squeaks and rolls out of the nest, taking half the cushions with him.

“Shit! Sorry!”

He helps Steve up off the floor, then leaves him sitting on the edge of the bed. Eddie backs toward the door.

“What’s wrong?” asks Steve, nervously fingering his not-quite-kissed mouth.

“Uh… I don’t think what I nearly just did was in your Snuggle Services manual.”

“Oh.” Steve bites the bottom lip that Eddie is ravenous for. Sucks it in a way that makes his dick waaaay too interested.

“Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie stomps off to the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he realizes he’s had eight hours of undiluted sleep. 

Christ, he needs strong coffee and a cold shower. 

“What the heck are you sorry about?” asks Steve, hurrying after him. “You wanted it, right? You wanted to kiss me?” There’s a little wobble in Steve’s voice, something fragile that punches Eddie right in the solar plexus. “I wanted it, Eddie. I guess I should be the sorry one. We’ve been dream-sharing for days now.”

“Dream-sharing?  Is that a thing?”

“Jesus, you’re clueless!” Steve tosses his arms up in despair. “Look, that is in the manual. Alphas and Omegas dream-share a lot. Normally, when they’re mated, but not always, and, you know, all the homemaking and nesting and stuff. Our… Um, I mean, the nest. It’s not necessarily a tentative mating bond thing between us. Simply suggests you’re ready to… you know… settle down. With somebody. Doesn’t have to be me.”

Eddie buries all eight fingers deep in his insanely messy hair, feels the blood throb in his temples. He isn’t ready for this. Building a nest to aid relaxation is one thing. Actually nesting? No way. Then, after about ten seconds of earth-shattering, soul-searching silence, he realizes he is ready. 

To nest with Steve.

The tug in his heart towards this Omega is epic. Has been for weeks.

He's never wanted anything more in his life. 

Steve is starting to huddle into himself, arms hooking around his ribs, eyes large and liquid. Eddie’s surge of protective vibes is a stronger wake-up call than any coffee, and he hopes Steve’s senses it.

He sees Steve, properly sees him, and it feels like he’s woken up from the longest sleep ever. An Omega obsessed with looking after people, even Alphas. An Omega so desperate to help and connect and belong that he offers no-strings-attached Snuggle Services.

For free.

He built Eddie a nest. He offered to look after Eddie, when they weren’t even friends. Now, he wants Eddie to be the one looking after him.

It’s so freakin’ special. Eddie feels the hot push of tears in his throat and eyes.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you, Steve,” he says, slowly edging forward. The idea of rejecting Steve… Wow, it makes him feel physically sick. “You’re quite sure you wanted it?”

“Jesus, how many times? Please, Eddie. Please want me. Please, please, please be my Alpha.”

“Don’t beg, Baby. You never have to beg.” It’s the closest Eddie has ever come to an Alpha bark.

Steve flies into Eddie’s opening arms, and they scent each other properly. Kisses happen for real, and a ton of running fingers through hair, and then plenty of bumping and grinding against the sink. Steve’s fists ball in Eddie’s t-shirt and cling. Eddie lifts him onto the kitchen counter without breaking a kiss, and slides between his legs. Soon, they’re gasping, sobbing and laughing, literally as one.

That evening, they go on their first date. Steve admits he doesn’t think he could ever want to snuggle with anybody other than Eddie again. Which is fortunate, because Eddie admits he’d probably die of jealousy or possibly rip Steve’s Snuggle Services clients’ throats out. They leave the bar early, to get back to Eddie’s and start to make their dreams reality.

Their fingers twine together as they knead the pastry. The banoffee pie is the best Eddie’s tasted, especially when he’s licking the cream filling from the corner of Steve’s mouth. They dream out loud about owning their own little Winnebago one day, about filling it with pups.

They go back to their nest.

Neither of them gets much sleep.

💕💕💕💕💕

my steddie fic on AO3

zero pressure tag @wheneverfeasible

[msfantasy-comics]

The Cruel to be Kind

Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: A story in which Tim is cruel to you in order to be kind

A/n: Y/n is depicted as the popular girl. Admittedly, after the rooftop scene I kinda got fatigued from writing …

Warning: sexually suggestive.

Your friendship with Gotham’s beloved hero, Robin, was mysterious, to say the least.

The first time you met Boy Wonder, his eyes darted around nervously while you stood in stunned silence on your apartment rooftop. Gotham’s golden boy, stuttering and stumbling over rushed apologies for disturbing your night.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you recall the memory—when Robin was shy and sweet, so unlike the confident vigilante he is now.

“Well, well, what’s got you all smirking?” Robin’s voice calls out as he swings down from the ledge, loud and cocky as always.

You sigh, already surrendering to his teasing. “I was thinking about when we first met. You were so shy back then.”

You watch, amused, as his ego visibly inflates.

“You just can’t stop thinking about me, can you?” he grins smugly. “Admit it—you want me, don’t you?”

He wiggles his brows, and you can’t help but laugh. The spark of courage bubbles up. “So what if I do?”

For the first time ever, Robin falls completely silent. His eyes lock onto yours, wide and unsure. You feel a twinge of regret—maybe you went too far? But before you can take it back, a booming laugh bursts out of him, like you just told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Don’t tease me like that, Y/n,” he chuckles, then softens, his tone turning almost reverent. “My poor little heart couldn’t take any false hope… not when it’s already yours.”

“I’m not teasing.”

He stills again, brows furrowing as if trying to figure out whether you’re serious. Your words hang heavy in the air, crossing the line that had long kept your banter safely flirtatious. Neither of you had dared to go beyond it—until now.

“I’m tired of pretending this is all a game,” you continue, heart pounding. “I like you, Robin. Romantically.”

You search his face, desperate to know if he’ll laugh again—if he’ll wave it off as another joke. His mouth opens, then closes. His eyes flicker across your face, searching for signs of insincerity. But there are none.

You exhale sharply. “Why do you always act like you want to be with me, but the second I say how I feel, you pull away?”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares out at the city, shoulders heavy.

“Because I can’t be with you,” he says quietly.

“Why the hell not?” Your voice is sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. He’s never heard you like this.

“Because I’m a vigilante,” he murmurs, eyes still on the skyline. “I’m dangerous. I can’t risk your life.”

He takes a slow breath. “I’ve seen what happens when heroes fall in love with civilians. Once the mask comes off, the mystery disappears. You’ll see I’m just a guy. Nothing special.”

The silence stretches again—painfully long—until you finally find your voice.

“Is that really what you think of me? That I’m so shallow I’d stop caring about you once I see who you are underneath the mask?”

You step back, a bitter taste in your mouth.

“If you never intended to be with me, why visit every night? Why make me feel like this meant something?” Your voice cracks, anger and heartbreak rising. “You acted like it was real. Like we were real. But now that I’ve said something, you get cold feet? I feel so stupid. You should just go.”

You turn away, face burning with embarrassment, blinking back the sting in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he says softly. “Sometimes… you have to be cruel to be kind. It’s better this way.”

And just like that—he’s gone.

You were utterly mystified by the whole situation. Your heart weighed heavily with a mix of confusion and disappointment, and as much as you tried, you couldn’t reason why Robin had made the decision he did.

If he’d truly decided that he couldn’t be with you, then he should never have toyed with your heart in the first place—should never have coaxed it open just to walk away once it was laid bare. You couldn’t fault his reasoning, not entirely, but the way he misrepresented his intentions grated on you deeply. If he didn’t want anything beyond surface-level flirting, he shouldn’t have shown up at your balcony every night at exactly 7 PM with all that smoldering intensity. He shouldn’t have made you feel like he needed you, like he wanted you.

Weeks passed. You hadn’t seen him since. And while you were somewhat glad—relieved even—there was no denying the pang of disappointment that still tugged at your chest.

You were at a gala, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, trying not to admit you were checking for any recent sightings of the Boy Wonder, when the loud music jarred you out of focus. You bumped into someone.

“Oh—sorry, Tim,” you muttered, awkwardly glancing up and hoping you hadn’t mistaken him for the wrong Wayne.

“Uh—yeah—no problem,” Tim replied quickly, eyes darting away awkwardly. You figured he didn’t remember your name.

“It’s Y/n,” you offered helpfully.

“Yeah—I know. I mean, everyone knows your name…”

You shifted uncomfortably. Tim seemed to realise how that sounded.

“Not in a weird way,” he added quickly. “It’s just… you’re kind of famous.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Tim snorted. “Please. You’re Gotham’s most popular socialite. You have literal fan clubs.”

You groaned, face heating up with secondhand embarrassment.

The whole interaction made you pause. Tim’s awkwardness—it was eerily familiar. It reminded you of someone else, someone who used to stumble over his words when he first showed up on your rooftop every night.

His gaze shifted to your phone.

“You a Robin fan?” he asked, and your heart pinched at the name.

“Ah, yeah, I guess… I don’t know.” You chuckled awkwardly. “I used to see him running around the rooftops all the time. Lately, I haven’t. I just got a little nervous, y’know? Like… something happened.”

God, why were you oversharing?

Tim smiled kindly at your flustered honesty. “Well, I can assure you he’s fine. I actually see him pretty often—Bruce is, uh, one of Batman’s biggest benefactors. Anyway, come on, let’s drink.”

The rest of the night became a blur.

Gin, champagne, laughter.

You and Tim wandered from the party and found yourselves walking the gardens, where playful banter turned into something more.

Maybe it was the alcohol or the comfort of his familiar energy, but you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips to his.

Tim kissed you back without hesitation.

Suddenly, you were straddling his lap on a garden bench, frantically clutching at each other, lips pressed, hands wandering, both of you desperate for something more.

Maybe not love—but certainly escape.

That was all until he released a throaty chuckle.

It was unmistakably his.

It couldn’t have been, could it?

It might be the alcohol misleading you but it had to be him, right?

But despite the train of thought that delivered you to that destination, you remain firmly planted in Tim’s lap, not daring to let him leave again.

“Take me on a date.” You demanded despite Tim’s frantic kissed planting along any of your exposed skin.

“Love nothing more.” He agreed.

You woke up with that giddy feeling buzzing in your stomach.

Later that day, you were supposed to meet Tim for a date. You got dressed, did your makeup, and waited at the little Italian place he’d picked… but he didn’t show up.

The news played silently on the diner’s mounted TV: Robin seen fighting the Riddler atop Wayne Tower.

He messaged you later with profuse apologies and asked to make it up to you.

You said yes.

This time, he invited you to a movie. You waited outside the theater, bouquet of his apology flowers in hand… and scrolled to see a news alert: Robin seen pursuing the Joker through downtown Gotham.

Another apology. Another reschedule.

Third time’s the charm, right?

You found yourself at an extravagant picnic set up on the hilltop overlooking Gotham. It was romantic, quiet… and empty. Thirty minutes passed.

You started eating alone.

Another notification lit up your phone: Robin in combat with Poison Ivy at Gotham Botanical Gardens.

You’d just popped a grape in your mouth when you heard footsteps pounding toward you. Tim skidded into view, slightly breathless, slightly sweaty.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I had another meeting.”

You didn’t even look up. “That’s okay, Robin—I know you’d be here on time if you could.”

He froze. “Huh? What? No—I… Wait. What?”

You glanced at him, expression deadpan.

“Please, Tim. That tiny mask and skin-tight suit weren’t fooling anyone. Not your voice, not your hair… definitely not your cologne.”

Tim blinked. “Oh… right.”

You raised a brow. “Some ‘normal guy,’ huh?”

He groaned. “Shush, you.” He retorts, pulling you in for a kiss which you gladly returned.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sold out, one night only

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event for Black Friday using 'one day night only'

rated m | 2980 words | cw: implied and referenced sexual content | tags: modern era, pop star steve, rock star eddie, semi-famous corroded coffin, exes to lovers, getting back together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The poster is huge, takes up most of the board in the club announcing new events. It’s surprisingly simple for something so large.

‘One Night Only’ accompanied by a picture of Steve Harrington, recently out queer pop icon, and a date and time.

Tonight is the one night only.

Eddie stares at it, kind of wishes he didn’t feel like sobbing, and then books it out of the club.

If he’s gonna make it across town before Steve’s show is done, he’s gotta hope for the least amount of traffic he’s ever seen and a lot of luck. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, the show was delayed enough that he’s still on stage singing.

He manages to find an Uber only a block away, offers them a 50% tip if they can get him to the arena in less than five minutes, and leans his head back against the seat.

~~~~

Four years ago, when Steve followed Eddie and his band to Chicago, neither of them expected much to happen. Corroded Coffin was small town good, but they quickly found that they weren’t quite what record labels were looking for.

A small indie label from San Francisco was interested, though.

So they packed up and moved to California, and to celebrate the first recording session, they went to a karaoke bar and all took turns singing songs that you’d never expect them to.

Steve took a turn singing a Harry Styles song and it was game over.

The whole bar went silent until he was done, and then it was pandemonium as people rushed him as he got off the stage, telling him he should be famous, and that he had the voice of an angel, and that he should try to sign a record deal.

And Eddie knew he could sing; he’d heard him in the shower and the car plenty.

There was just something about seeing him on stage and knowing that Steve was meant for more that really cut into his heart and made him bleed out on that bar floor.

It was the beginning of the end for them that night.

Eddie pushed him away. Steve stopped fighting it.

Steve signed with a huge company out of New York and moved before Eddie even realized he ruined everything.

He hasn’t spoken to him since, not even the one time Dustin had to have surgery and requested everyone be back in Hawkins in case something went wrong. He was being dramatic about leg splints, but they did it anyway.

Eddie caught one glimpse of Steve walking out of the Henderson home the night that Dustin got to leave the hospital, but he didn’t stop him.

Corroded Coffin is big enough to do festival circuits, even playing on the main stage for some of them.

Steve Harrington is big enough to go to Grammy parties and duet with Sabrina Carpenter.

And Eddie is stupid enough to think he can get backstage to apologize to him for being dumb enough to let him walk away.

~~~~

When he arrives at the arena, he’s told he needs a ticket to enter. This is a fact he knew before getting here, but one he chose to ignore in hopes that he might be able to bribe someone with his romantic story.

Unfortunately, the middle aged man who reminds him a lot of Wayne couldn’t care less about his need to tell Steve he loves him.

“You and the 20,000 others in the audience, bud,” the man says. “No ticket, no entrance.”

“Okay, I know you probably hear this often, but I swear he knows me. He’d let me in,” Eddie explains, but the guy is somehow even less impressed. “Oh! Wait. I have proof.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and opens his photos. The album named ‘Stevie ♥️’ is still in his favorites, even though Robin made him promise he’d delete it after the last time she visited. He may have promised he would, but he never said when.

It’s hundreds of photos of them together, mostly selfies, personal pictures they took on dates or in bed or on their road trip or-

“I told you to delete those.”

Eddie spins around at Robin’s voice. She’s standing near the set of doors at the end of the long line of doors, two security guards flanking her.

“And I will. Eventually.” Eddie walks towards her, ignoring the man telling him he needs to leave.

“What are you doing here?” She asks even though she has to know.

She’s his friend even though she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate. She isn’t being mean on purpose. She’s just being protective of both of them.

“Robin…” he starts.

She holds up a hand. “If I take you backstage, will this be a one night only thing or a start to forever thing? Because honestly, I don’t think he can take seeing you if it’s only for you to leave right after. He’s barely-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“He’s what?” Eddie pushes, needing to know what she was gonna say.

She sighs. He knew he’d get her to give in easily.

“He’s barely holding it together as it is,” she admits. “I had to bribe him to get on stage tonight.”

“Bribe him? For this show?”

“And the last dozen or so. He’s tired. He-” She sighs again, heavier. “He misses you.”

“If he misses me, then he should call. Or text. Send a carrier pigeon.” Eddie doesn’t mean for the words to bite, but he can’t help the way he feels and he knows he’s safe with Robin. She won’t take it personally or let him stew in it for too long. “It’s not like he doesn’t have access to me if he really wants it.”

“Eddie. You made it very clear you didn’t want to hear from him ever again.”

“I made it very clear that I loved him too much to hold him back. He was the one who pushed it to this,” Eddie tries.

He doesn’t succeed. Robin is shaking her head, laughing with disbelief.

“You two are made for each other. I’ll bring you backstage, but if I see a single tear shed in anything other than happiness, I’m calling Jeff and telling on you.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. Calling Jeff isn’t quite the threat it used to be, not since Jeff got himself a very serious girlfriend who keeps him busy. Even if it was, Robin knows Jeff’s just gonna nod along, give Eddie a sad look, and move on.

He follows Robin through the door she came through, waving at the guard who was giving him a hard time– “he’s just doing his job, Eddie” – and feels his throat catch on his next breath when he can hear the beat of the music.

Steve’s pop rock sound isn’t necessarily Eddie’s favorite type of music, but he did stay up until midnight for the release of his debut album. It’s Steve. What’s he gonna do? Not listen to it?

His voice is just this side of raspy, like there’s a scratch of his throat when he hits the lower register his voice will allow. He almost sounds like when Eddie would-

“Alright. He’s got two songs left and an encore. Encore is usually just one song, but this is a special night so he may do a bonus from his new album. Don’t touch anything,” Robin sends him into the green room, waving off the security person who is standing at the door. “Don’t make me regret letting you in here. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jesus, Robbie, I’m not a child. I’m not gonna hurt myself-”

“I didn’t mean physically.” She gives him a sad look. “I care about you, too.”

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he breathes out. He didn’t realize how tense he’d been. Robin hugs him and moves to the door.

“I’ll make sure you guys have some privacy for a bit, but we do have a tight schedule. Security’s only here while the crew packs up,” she explains. Eddie nods. He knows the drill. He may not be an international pop star, but he deals with the ins and outs of venues often enough.

Robin leaves and the only sound is the bass thumping of Steve’s last song. Eddie looks around at how bare the room is. Usually, Corroded Coffin has to share a green room with a few other bands unless they pull off headlining the main stage. Those rooms are usually cluttered, crews and musicians constantly coming and going, leaving trash and guitar picks behind. The only thing in this room that would hint at Steve using it is a bag of half-eaten white cheddar popcorn on the table next to an empty water bottle and a mug of what looks like green tea.

Steve’s a big enough star to make absurd requests for backstage, but it’s clear he doesn’t. Eddie isn’t surprised. Steve’s never really been one to ask for things that would benefit him.

He hears the screaming, knows Steve’s just left the stage. He’s probably standing nearby, hiding behind curtains or stacks of speakers, maybe even in plain sight.

“Wait!” Robin’s voice is right outside the door.

The door opens.

Steve’s there, breathless, sweaty, hot as hell.

“Steve, you still have a song,” another woman in khakis and a polo shirt is rushing up to him, waving a clipboard in his face.

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice is rough when he speaks. Eddie can tell it’s more from emotion than the nearly two hour set list he just performed.

“Steve.” Eddie is waiting for Steve to move, for anyone to move. He can’t.

“Steve, you need to go back onstage.”

Eddie has his arms full of Steve before anyone can respond to the woman just trying to do her job. She looks like she’s a tech manager, but usually they wear all black, and Eddie doesn’t know all there is to know about an international superstar performing a concert even though he does know all there is to know about Steve.

He knows that he prefers earl gray tea with real sugar, not the green tea with honey that’s sitting on the coffee table. He knows that his favorite treats are the mini Kit Kats– “not the regular ones, they taste different, I swear!”-- not popcorn that gets stuck in his teeth for hours. He knows that he likes making places feel like home no matter how temporary he’s there, and there’s not a single item in this room that makes it feel lived in.

The woman seems to give up on getting Steve back on stage, and he’s pretty sure he has Robin to thank for it.

He has Steve in his arms for the first time in way too long. He isn’t wasting a second of it thinking about anyone else.

Steve’s sweat is soaking through Eddie’s shirt already, but he doesn’t really care. He used to love having Steve’s sweat on him; It meant he was doing something right.

He knows a reunion isn’t this easy, and any second now, Steve’s gonna pull away and yell at him, and they’ll fight and Eddie will let it happen because he deserves it and-

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Steve sobs against his neck, breath tickling his skin as his lips brush against him in an almost-kiss.

Suddenly, Eddie knows that Steve planned this. This whole sold out, one night only show was only so Eddie would come see him.

Eddie should be pissed.

Steve could have just fucking called him. Texted him. Sent a carrier pigeon!

But he’s got Steve in his arms and it’s always been pretty hard to be pissed at him when he’s pressed perfectly against his chest.

Robin is clearing the room and cursing Steve for making her clean up his messes, but Eddie can hear the fondness in her voice. She wouldn’t bother giving them time alone together if she didn’t want them to have it.

“Robin said I shouldn’t do it. She said you wouldn’t show.” Tears are falling from Steve’s eyes on Eddie's shirt. “I swore you would. She thought I was crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Eddie laughs, squeezing his arms to pull him in tighter. “Planning something this big in the hopes that I’d come to a pop concert is fucking insane, Stevie.”

“But you did.” Steve leans back and looks at him, watery smile enough to make Eddie feel like he could melt into the floor. “I knew you would.”

Eddie wants to kiss him, wants to ignore everything that went wrong and everything they need to talk about, wants to take Steve apart in this room and make it feel like home because Steve didn’t do that on his own. He doesn’t think he’s made any place feel like home in a long time.

“You put a lot of faith in a guy who let you go,” Eddie whispers.

“You showed up for a guy who left,” Steve says back.

“You only left because I pushed you away,” Eddie argues.

“You only pushed me away because you thought it was best for me,” Steve raises a brow, challenging him to keep going.

Eddie knows Steve has a response for everything, though. He’ll keep putting blame on himself the same way Eddie keeps putting it on himself, and they’ll go round and round and waste precious time that they could be doing other things. Instead of pushing, Eddie sighs and lets his shoulders drop.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead of arguing.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve relaxes in his arms.

“We still have to talk, Stevie,” Eddie reminds him as he leans in, feels Steve’s breath against his lips.

“We will,” Steve barely gets out before their lips crash together, bruising and needy.

There’s a lot that Eddie missed about Steve. He’s spent countless hours harping over everything he messed up to himself, to Robin, to Wayne, to the band. Steve was forever going to be the one that got away.

“Can we…” Steve gasps against his mouth, hands grasping at every inch of Eddie that they can.

“What do you need?” Eddie wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrists to still him, to make him focus on what he wants.

“Just need you.”

It’s a cop out and they both know it, but Eddie’s fine with it tonight. If he has to be the one to take charge and assume what Steve wants, then he will. For tonight, he can give Steve what he wants to, and Steve will take it.

It’s a little anticlimactic when they come barely five minutes later. They don’t even get a chance to properly remove any clothing before they’re making a mess between them, moaning as if they can’t be heard.

As they come down, and Eddie manages to find a rag that may or may not have been used for other things already, Eddie sees Steve wipe his eyes.

He stops what he’s doing and drops the rag on the floor, pulling Steve close again.

“What’s wrong?” He asks because he can’t let Steve leave him again. Not this time.

“I just don’t want this to be one night only,” Steve cries.

“It won’t be, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him, brushing the fresh tears away as they fall. “We’re gonna figure out how to make it work. The band doesn’t have anything for the next few weeks, so we’ve got time, okay?”

“But I have to leave tomorrow. I have a GQ interview in London,” Steve pouts.

Eddie tries not to be distracted by his bitten-red lips, but they’re just so…biteable.

“I could go to London,” Eddie offers, only slightly joking.

Steve’s eyes light up. “You can?”

“I mean, I can definitely blow some of my savings to follow you around for a bit,” Eddie shrugs.

“As if I’d let you pay.” Steve’s beaming at him. “You really wanna come with me? Even though people will start spreading rumors and it’ll ruin your metal band image?”

“Baby, I’ll stand on that stage right now and scream to everyone who will listen that I’m yours.”

There’s still time to do that, too. Even though it can’t have been more than 20 minutes since Steve left the stage, he has no doubt that there are plenty of stragglers in the arena hoping for Steve to still come out and perform his encore.

“Some fans are kind of-”

“Crazy?” Steve nods. “That’s because you’re perfect. But they can’t have you, right? Not like I can.”

“No. Nobody gets to have me like you do.”

If Robin wasn’t banging on the door to warn them they only had five minutes, Eddie would be trying for another round. Maybe this time, he’d get his mouth on Steve instead of just his hand.

“I guess we should get to the car before fans figure out I’m still here,” Steve suggests. “And before Robin kills us both.”

“Imagine that news story,” Eddie laughs. “Best friend and manager of pop icon Steve Harrington charged with double homicide after seeing more dicks than she’s ever seen in her life.”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn’t seen mine,” Steve laughs as he pulls away. When he sees Eddie’s shocked face, he pats his cheek. “I sleep naked, babe. You knew that.”

Eddie’s face goes back to normal quickly. “Still? I thought that was just so I would-”

“I’m coming in!” Robin shouts as she opens the door. Steve turns away to finish buttoning his pants, but Eddie’s soft dick is right out in the open.

“Seriously?” Robin groans.

Eddie finishes making himself presentable and smirks. “You’ve seen what he’s got. You can’t blame me.”

“I can and I will. Car’s already surrounded, so. Hope you’re good with a hard launch.”

Eddie looks at Steve to check in. Steve gives him a nod.

“Blast off, I guess.”

[fkinkindagauche]

Some Unrighteous Intention

Also on AO3.

A/N: I needed to write something fun and silly because I was getting a little stuck with the long fic I'm working on. @dame-zoom-a-lot came through with a delightful prompt for the "Fruit" square on my @steddiebingo card - "5 times when Eddie gets distracted by Steve's mouth around fruit (or vice versa) and 1 time when Steve finally forces Eddie to do something about it". If you're looking for something else to read that's fun and tongue-in-cheek, try Zooms' fic May He Reign.

The title is from "Nature Boy" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,679 Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Post-Season/Series 04, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Getting Together, First Kiss, Heavily Sexualized Fruit, but no fruit actually involved in the sex

Summary:

Eddie regretted every choice he’d made that had brought him to this point. He wasn’t a man prone to regret. Not even the prolonged hospitalization and recurrent nightmares following Vecna had been enough to make him regret meeting and becoming enmeshed with the Party. But this. This was too far. He regretted it now. Because Steve Harrington was eating a strawberry. A wanton, juicy strawberry. His nimble fingers gripped the leaves and held the plump, red fruit against his parted lips. Lips stained red with the juice of the lucky fruits before this one. Lips Eddie had never particularly noticed before this very moment. Lips he now needed to feel against his own. Lips he knew he’d never be able to feel against his own. ================= OR, Steve terrorizes Eddie all summer by eating very sexy fruit very sexily.

Eddie regretted every choice he’d made that had brought him to this point. He wasn’t a man prone to regret. Not even the prolonged hospitalization and recurrent nightmares following Vecna had been enough to make him regret meeting and becoming enmeshed with the Party. But this. This was too far. He regretted it now.

Because Steve Harrington was eating a strawberry.

A wanton, juicy strawberry. His nimble fingers gripped the leaves and held the plump, red fruit against his parted lips. Lips stained red with the juice of the lucky fruits before this one. Lips Eddie had never particularly noticed before this very moment. Lips he now needed to feel against his own. Lips he knew he’d never be able to feel against his own.

Steve made an obscene slurping noise as he attempted to keep some rogue juice in his mouth. He failed, and it escaped, trickling down the perfect line of his throat.

A strangled wheezing noise emerged from Eddie’s throat.

“Dude, are you okay?” Steve asked, speaking around a mouthful of strawberry.

Eddie nodded, unable to form words.

Steve swallowed the bite and threw the stem to the side. “Is there something on my face? You’re staring.”

Eddie stood up suddenly from the ground and fled.

“Where are you going?” Robin grumbled as he nearly tripped over her foot.

“Gotta piss!” he managed to spit out through his extreme mortification.

“Robin, is there something on my face?” he heard Steve demand as he hurried away.

Eddie didn’t hear Robin’s response. He hurried off into the woods and leaned against a tree, attempting to calm down a very unruly portion of his anatomy. One that had, in fact, never reacted to Steve Harrington before.

He should never have come on this picnic. He hated the sun and the outdoors. Why had he let Robin talk him into it? This was a disaster. A catastrophe of epic proportions. He had a boner for Steve Harrington because of strawberries.

Steve probably didn’t even swing that way. (Well, Eddie’d had his suspicions during the Hargrove days, there had been some serious homoerotic tension there, but Steve had only ever dated women.) But even if he did, he was Steve! Muscular jock golden retriever boy! He wasn’t for the likes of Eddie Munson, freak of nature, deranged pitbull mutt boy.

Eddie took a few deep, cleansing breaths. He thought about his Aunt Muriel. That took his boner right out.

When he returned to the group, the strawberries were finished, and he could look at Steve again without carnal thoughts. Just a strange blip. Maybe he was attracted to the strawberries. He could handle that.

Eddie tried to forget about it, he really did. But he couldn’t look at Steve the same after that day. Every time Steve talked, Eddie’s eyes drifted to his lips and remembered the strawberry. He routinely got so distracted that he had to ask Steve to repeat himself. Steve was starting to get annoyed.

He noticed other things about Steve, too. The way he laughed when Robin or Eddie said something really funny, throwing back his head and cackling. The way he let Henderson and the other brats walk all over him, and always looked out for them, no matter how much he complained. The way he filled out his jeans so nicely, front and back.

Eddie couldn’t keep denying it – he had a crush on Steve Harrington.

The others had definitely noticed that something was up. He caught Robin squinting at him like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Nancy had smirked at him when she caught him staring at Steve at their last game night. Even Steve was giving him questioning looks.

“What are those?” Eddie demanded, pointing at a bowl full of what looked like large orange grapes. He was at Steve’s house, raiding his well-stocked kitchen before he picked up the kids for a D&D session.

Steve glanced over from where he was cooking something that smelled delicious (the man was a fucking cook, how was Eddie supposed to resist this?). “Oh. Those are kumquats.”

Eddie spat out the mouthful of Mountain Dew he’d just gulped down. “Excuse me?” Surely he hadn’t heard that right. Who would name a fruit so obscenely?

Steve gave him a weird look. “They’re little citrus fruits. You can just pop the whole thing in your mouth. Like this, see.” He grabbed one of them and shoved it into his mouth. His beautiful, pink mouth. With its moist lips. Just stuffing them full of jizz fruits.

“What?” Steve asked, mouth full of quats of the cum. His forehead was wrinkled in an unfairly adorable squint.

“That is a ridiculous name for a fruit,” Eddie managed to stammer.

“Oooh, I get it.” Steve’s face cleared. “Because of cum. Like, semen.”

“Yeah, Steve. Because of that.”

“I don’t think it’s named after that, though. They don’t taste anything like jizz. Here.” He pushed one into Eddie’s mouth, which had been stunned into opening by the idea that Steve Harrington knew what jizz tasted like.

Eddie chewed automatically. The taste was sweet at first, followed by a tartness once he bit through the skin. It was nice. And, yes, nothing like jizz.

“Like it?” Steve asked with a quizzical look. His thumb still rested on the edge of Eddie’s lips. Eddie wanted to bite it. He wanted to suck it into his mouth and taste the kumquat juices and Steve’s skin.

He stepped back instead, breaking the contact. “I need to be gone,” Eddie said with a slightly hysterical lilt to his voice.

“Dude, your bag!” Steve called after him. Eddie didn’t care. He ran.

“Jeff. I am telling you this in the strictest confidence. You must take it to your grave. No one can ever know.”

Eddie lay on his bed with an arm thrown melodramatically across his face as Jeff idly plucked at his guitar.

“Alright,” Jeff replied. He didn’t even sound interested. Rude. Although Eddie was pretty sure he’d used those exact words on Jeff at least ten times before, often about pretty trivial things, so he couldn’t totally be blamed for his lack of interest.

“I think I have a crush on Steve Harrington,” Eddie admitted with a moan.

“Oh. Well, yeah.”

Eddie moved his arm and sat up to glare at Jeff. “What do you mean, ‘well, yeah’? That’s all you have to say about this earth-shattering admission?”

“Eddie, it’s kind of obvious. You stare at him with heart eyes every time he comes to watch us practice. Even Gareth figured it out.”

Eddie threw a pillow at him. “You knew?” His outrage immediately turned to horror. “Do you think Steve knows?” Eddie collapsed onto the bed, arm back across his face. “Oh my god, what if Steve knows?”

Jeff patted him consolingly on the knee. “He probably doesn’t.”  That wasn’t very convincing.

“Why is this happening to me?” Eddie groaned. “I think I’m just gonna have to avoid him forever.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult. Considering we’re all going to Henderson’s birthday cookout at his pool in half an hour.”

“I’m not going,” Eddie announced.

“You have to. Dustin will be devastated if you don’t go. You wanna make that kid cry? You feel like explaining that to Mrs. Henderson?”

Eddie shuddered. The only thing scarier than seeing Steve Harrington right now was the thought of triggering Claudia Henderson’s protective maternal instincts.

“Okay, fine.” Eddie pushed himself up off the bed with a groan. “I can do this. I can be normal. As long as he doesn’t pull out any more cum nuggets.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The party was in full swing by the time Jeff and Eddie arrived. He scanned the raucous group in the pool, definitely not looking for Steve. He found Steve at the grill, cooking burgers without a shirt on. All that beautiful chest hair. All those delightful moles. On full display. It was upsetting.

Eddie collapsed in a chair next to Robin with a disgruntled huff.

“What’s got your goat today, Munson?” Robin asked.

Eddie sighed dejectedly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Robin didn’t sound convinced.

Eddie did his best to ignore Steve’s manly physique and enjoy himself. It worked, sort of. At first. But then Steve made it incredibly difficult when he came to join the vigorous rough-housing going on in the pool. He kept touching Eddie. Like he had no idea what he was doing to him. He tickled him, he put him in a headlock, he grabbed him around the waist and dunked him underwater. Eddie had to put off getting out of the pool to pee for nearly fifteen minutes to avoid showing everyone the raging boner in his wet swim trunks.

Just when he thought things surely could not get any worse, the watermelon came out. Nancy had sliced a watermelon into wedges, and Steve dove right the fuck in. Eddie sat across the table from him and watched as Steve opened his mouth inhumanly wide to take a gigantic bite. Juice spilled out of his mouth and over his cheeks, running down his chin. He looked up and locked eyes with Eddie as he licked his lips, then took another bite. He held Eddie’s gaze as he spat the seeds out into a strategically placed bowl. One after another. His lips forming a perfect pucker with each spit.

Eddie wanted to lick the sticky juice off his face and neck and chest. He wanted Steve to spit at him. He’d never had a spit kink before. Where was this coming from?

Eddie stood up from the table abruptly, upending his chair, and ran into the house.

He locked himself into the bathroom and immediately plunged a hand into his swim trunks to wrap around his aching cock. He felt guilty for beating off in his friend’s bathroom, for beating off to thoughts of that same friend. But he’d been hard for the entire afternoon. He needed some relief or he was truly going to expire.

He used the precum leaking from his tip to smooth the glide as he stroked himself. He thought of Steve’s lips, covered in watermelon, covered in strawberry juice. He thought of the shape of them as he spit. As he bit down on a kumquat. He came with a groan, inhumanly fast, as he remembered that Steve knew what jizz tasted like.

Just as he finished washing his hands, a knock sounded at the door.

“Eddie, you alright?” Steve asked through the door.

Oh, this was too much. Surely Eddie could not be expected to just go out there and act normal around Steve right now.

“No, not alright at all. I’m having explosive diarrhea and vomiting and also bleeding out my ears, you should probably stay away.”

“Um. Shouldn’t you go to the hospital or something, if all that’s going on?”

“No. It’ll pass if you leave me alone. Go away.”

“Alright.” Steve sounded like he was holding back a laugh. The blackguard. A laugh, at Eddie’s made-up intense illness.

But thankfully he left Eddie alone, to slink out of the house in embarrassed confusion, leaving behind a very pissed off Jeff without a ride home.

The summer wore on, and Eddie’s crush unfortunately didn’t let up. He kept telling himself he was going to avoid Steve, but he never held himself to it. He spent a lot of time at Family Video bothering Steve and Robin during their shifts, enjoying the air conditioning.

That’s where he was one night in late July when Claudia Henderson dropped off a whole bag of fresh-picked peaches. Eddie stared in horror as Steve made a pleased noise and reached into the bag.

“I love peaches!” Steve crooned. “You like them, Eddie?” Steve held a peach out to Eddie, who took it on instinct. The fuzz felt soft against his hand. He squeezed lightly, enjoying the slight give indicating ripeness.

Eddie looked up into Steve’s glorious, shining face. Robin was somewhere deep among the aisles sorting tapes, so Eddie was alone with Steve. And peaches. Arguably the sexiest fruit. He was in deep shit. Eddie didn’t know if he was going to survive this. It might be what finally did him in.

Steve grinned at Eddie. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he would say Steve looked downright devious. But no. Steve was just pleased to have some peaches.

Steve raised a peach to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and licked delicately at the fuzz. (Who licked the outside of a peach?) The depression in the side of the peach was facing Eddie.

Suddenly, all Eddie could think of were butts. Well, one butt in particular. A singular butt. Steve’s butt. How much he’d like to grab handfuls of that butt and squeeze, just like he squeezed the peach. He would lick the fuzz on Steve’s butt. Bite into those ripe globes.

Eddie was well aware that he was already breathing heavily. Steve opened his mouth, looking at Eddie the whole time, and bit into the peach. His eyes fluttered shut as the juices flooded his mouth, some trickling out the sides and down his chin. He made an obscene noise that could only be described as a moan. He opened his eyes again and stared at Eddie as his tongue darted out to lick the juice off his chin. Then he closed his mouth around the flesh of the peach again and sucked.

Eddie’s breath came rushing out with a sound like a deflating balloon. Steve ignored the noise. He took several more bites of his peach, just as wantonly as the first. There was juice all over his face, running down his chin onto his neck, pooling in the divot between his collar bones. Eddie twitched, using every muscle in his body to avoid throwing himself forward and licking up that pool.

Steve finished the peach in several more large bites. Eddie watched the whole thing, unable or unwilling to look away. Steve stuck the pit in his mouth and sucked on it hard.

“What the fuck is going on right now?” Robin asked from directly behind Eddie.

Eddie startled, letting out a little scream and falling off of the stool he’d been sitting on.

“Just eating a peach,” Steve said, all innocence. “Eddie, you didn’t even try yours.”

Eddie lay prostrate on the ground. He thought maybe he would never get up. Maybe he’d just die here, all the blood sucked from his brain by the raging hard-on he’d gotten from watching his friend eat a peach.

Robin poked him with her shoe. “Are you alright, Eddie?”

“No,” Eddie breathed. Robin stared at him. Steve poked his head over the side of the counter, face still covered in peach juice. Eddie closed his eyes against the sight. “I think I’m allergic to peaches,” he continued, pushing himself up off the floor. “I need to leave. Just the smell is making my airways close up.”

“You ate peaches last week.”

“Delayed hypersensitivity reaction. Gotta go. Bye.” He hustled for the door.

“Steve, that was disgusting. You’re ridiculous,” he heard Robin say as he let the door closed behind him.

August was fucking hot. The hottest on record. Though he’d vowed to avoid Steve at all costs after the peach incident, that had only lasted until the temperatures veered into the 90’s. After that, Eddie spent most of his free time at the Harrington house, availing himself of the air conditioning and pool.

It was too hot to even lay in the pool today. Even the air conditioning was barely cutting it. They lay on the floor in front of a fan in only their boxers. He had been too weak with heatstroke to even protest the disrobing, though not too weak to appreciate Steve’s chest hair. He flipped idly through a copy of Rolling Stone, trying to keep his eyes off of Steve’s tits, while Steve threw a baseball into the air over and over.  Thwack. Thwack.

Eddie shifted uncomfortably. “Do you have any, like, ice cream or anything? Popsicles? Something cold?”

Steve hummed to himself. “I don’t think so.”

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Steve sat upright, stilling the baseball. “Wait! I have something.”

He stood and walked much too fast to the kitchen. It made Eddie sweat just to watch him move.

Eddie’s stomach dropped in sheer terror as he saw what Steve held in his hands as he returned – a banana. No. Not that. Anything but the banana. Eddie could survive all the other fruits, but not the banana.

Steve had a wicked grin on his face. Like he knew. He couldn’t know. Right? Absolutely not.

“They’re a bitch to peel when they’re frozen, but it’s basically like a popsicle.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s deft fingers grasped the base of the banana. He slid his hand up and down.

“Feels kind of nice,” Steve said. “Cold.” He twisted his hand in an absolutely obscene motion and hummed to himself. Eddie dropped the magazine down to his lap, hiding a situation that was becoming more embarrassing by the second.

Steve poked at the tip of the banana until it started to peel. He drew the ice-hardened peel away from the fruit, leaving a solid pale yellow rod directly in front of his mouth. He looked Eddie dead in the eye as he opened his lips and slowly slid the banana in.

He hollowed out his cheeks, sucking on it in a way Eddie had never seen someone do to a banana. He moved it in and out, bobbing his head on the banana.

“It’s cold,” he mumbled around the shaft – no, the banana! Bananas didn’t have shafts. “Feels good on my lips.” He pulled the banana all the way out and licked gently at the tip. “You ever sucked on a frozen banana?” he asked. Okay, Eddie was almost positive now that Steve wasn’t still talking about bananas. Eddie must have passed out from heatstroke. That was the only logical conclusion.

“Eddie?” Steve prompted. “You like bananas, right?”

Again, there was a whole fucking undercurrent to that question.

“Bananas are… good,” Eddie whispered.

Steve’s grin lit up the whole room. “Good. Glad we agree about bananas.” He sat on the floor beside Eddie and slid the banana back in his mouth. Eddie didn’t know where to look – at the sweat beading gloriously on Steve’s perfect hairy pecs, at his lips sealed around the frozen banana, at his intense brown eyes boring holes straight into Eddie’s soul.

Steve pulled the banana out of his mouth, a string of spit connecting it to his lips for a few moments before it broke. He held out the banana to Eddie.

“You wanna try?” he whispered. He was so close Eddie could feel the gust of his breath with each word.

The door banged open. Eddie screamed and scrambled away from Steve.

“Dingus!” Robin yelled from the foyer.

Eddie took the cowardly out. He stood up and ran to the door, leaving his shirt and pants in Steve’s living room. He paused only to slip on his flip-flops and grab his keys.

“Munson, what the hell!” Robin yelled as he shoved his way past her.

As he started up his van, he heard Robin scream, “A banana, Steve?! Jesus Christ.”

Eddie avoided Steve for a few weeks after the banana. He was a little disappointed that Steve let himself be avoided, but he tried not to dwell on it.

The heat finally broke in the last week of August. Eddie tentatively started hanging out with Steve again. No fruits were bandied about.

Eddie should have been relieved. He wasn’t sure his heart could handle another fruit-related incident with Steve. It might just burst like an overwrought rabbit’s heart. But he thought Steve had been trying to tell him something with that banana. Maybe? As the weeks ticked by with no more hints, he decided he was probably just reading too much into it.

So when the offer to go apple picking with the whole group came in early September, he didn’t automatically excuse himself like he would have in the days following the banana incident. Apples weren’t even sexy. They were a thoroughly unsexy fruit. And they’d be outside, with loads of other people around. It would be fine.

It wasn’t fine.

Every time Steve reached for an apple, his adorable sweater rode up, revealing a patch of tummy with a glorious little happy trail disappearing beneath his jeans. Jeans that were tight enough to remind Eddie, once again, that Steve was very well-endowed.

And Steve kept picking the highest apples in the trees. Like he was doing it on purpose. After grabbing a particularly juicy-looking specimen from on high, Steve brought it to his mouth and bit into it. Eddie realized he’d been dead wrong. Apples were sexy, when they were in the hands of Steve.

Steve sucked at the apple where he’d bit as juice spilled out. The way he pursed his lips was obscene. He licked the skin around his bite, cleaning up the errant juice, then licked his lips. Eddie wondered, if he covered himself in apple juice, would Steve lick him like that?

To preserve his poor rabbit-like heart, Eddie fled to another row of trees.

He successfully avoided Steve and his tummy and his apple-licking for the rest of the picking excursion. He was ready to jump into his van and flee after Nancy dropped them all off at Steve’s, but Steve pinned him with a pleading stare and asked, “Eddie, will you help me bring all the apples in?”

It was like being asked to play fetch by an adorable golden retriever. Eddie couldn’t say no. He wasn’t heartless. (Though he might be, soon, if Steve made his heart explode.)

“Alright,” Eddie said, his voice cracking. He grabbed one of the bags and walked straight to Steve’s kitchen, setting it down.

“There you go!” Eddie said. “See ya later.” He turned to leave. Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m making pies. I could really use some help peeling and coring.” There was that pleading look again. Eddie was hopeless. He was lost. He was done for.

“Okay.”

He sat at the table like a man sitting down to his last meal before the electric chair. Steve handed him a paring knife. Eddie set to work peeling apples, doing his best to pretend Steve wasn’t even there – an almost impossible task, given Steve’s constant fidgeting. He wasn’t usually a fidgeter, that was more Eddie’s deal, but today he was wiggling in his chair like he had an itchy hemorrhoid.

“Dude, are you okay?” Eddie asked after Steve accidentally elbowed him in the arm for the fourth time. This time, Eddie had narrowly avoided gouging himself in the opposite hand with his knife.

“What? Yeah. ‘m fine.”

Eddie shifted his chair to move a few feet away from Steve. “Alright. Just gonna get out of the elbow zone then.”

Steve looked up from his apple and pouted. There was no other word for what happened to his face. It was a full-on pout. His lips turned down in a frown and his lower lip wobbled as his eyes got comically large and sad.

Guilt flooded Eddie’s system. “I can’t stay there! You’re going to make me knife myself!”

Steve schooled his features into a look of determination, picked up a slice of apple, and slowly and deliberately brought it to his mouth. He opened his lips wide, giving Eddie a thorough view of the soft pink inside of his mouth. He licked the apple slice, running his tongue along one surface, then along the opposite side. He closed his lips around it then slid it inside. All while maintaining direct eye contact with Eddie.

This was it. This was the moment Eddie was going to die. Slumped on the floor of the Harrington kitchen with a burst heart and a hard dick.

“I- I should go,” Eddie stammered, wanting to put off his inevitable demise just a little longer.

“No.”

The word was a command. Eddie froze halfway through pushing himself up out of his chair.

“Are you just not into me?” Steve demanded. “I know you’re gay, and I got the impression you maybe had a crush on me, so I thought I had a chance. But now I’m not so sure.”

Eddie thought he may have had a stroke. The words coming out of Steve’s mouth were English, and they theoretically made sense together, but Eddie couldn’t parse them.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention all summer,” Steve continued. “I’ve been so obvious that even Dustin caught on. I gave up after the banana thing because Robin told me I was being ridiculous and scaring you away. But I don’t know how else to do it.”

“What?” Eddie croaked.

Steve tilted his head to the side. He popped another apple slice into his mouth and chewed. Eddie watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and thought more devious thoughts. “Wait, have you really not noticed?” Steve asked. “That I’ve been coming onto you this whole time?”

“You’ve been what?” Eddie replayed the various fruit-related incidents in his mind. He’d thought Steve was just like that – unknowingly sultry and flirtatious, an unaware wet dream of a man.

“Ever since I saw the way you looked at me with the strawberries. And, okay, I can understand how you might not have seen through the kumquats or the watermelon. But the peach? The banana? Come on, Eddie.”

“You were… hitting on me?” Eddie felt he needed to clarify. This needed to be explicitly stated for him.

“Think of it more as a temptation. But, yeah, with the eventual end goal of fucking you. Or being fucked by you. I’d go either way, long as it was with you.”

Eddie swayed to the side. He looked around the room to see if the others were all there, waiting to see how Eddie took the prank. He swayed so far to the side that he fell out of his chair.

“Fuck!” he yelped as his elbow and hip connected with the hard tile floor.

“Whoa, shit.” Steve knelt down beside him, a hand coming to his head to keep it from hitting the floor. “You okay?”

Steve’s hand was warm against his cheek. He moved it back, threading fingers into Eddie’s hair, then tilted Eddie’s head back so he could look into his face.

“You hurt?” Steve prompted again when Eddie stayed silent.

Eddie shook his head. His heart beat rapidly against his sternum. Could a rabbit’s heart burst from pure horniness? He hadn’t ever heard of that, just the fear thing, but it seemed theoretically possible.

“Can you tell me?” Steve whispered. “Did you really not know?”

Eddie shook his head again. “I didn’t,” he whispered back.

“And now that you do?”

Eddie gathered up all the courage in his little rabbity heart and surged forward. He grabbed two handfuls of Steve’s adorable sweater and yanked him close, pressing their lips together. A startled noise emerged from Steve’s lips as he froze for a moment, and Eddie wondered if he’d just imagined the whole conversation leading up to this point, but then Steve relaxed against him, and joined in the kiss as an active participant.

Steve’s lips tasted of apples. Eddie licked against them, savoring the taste. Steve opened his mouth and wound an arm around Eddie’s waist. Eddie pressed his tongue in as the apple flavor flooded his senses. He could smell it, and taste it, a tart sweetness exploding on his tongue.

Steve moaned and pressed Eddie back until he was laying on the floor with Steve draped half on top of him. It should have been uncomfortable, but Eddie just wanted more. Steve slid a leg between Eddie’s own. Eddie instinctively ground down against it, rutting his hard and aching cock against Steve’s muscular thigh.

Steve’s mouth moved from Eddie’s lips to his jawline and kissed the soft skin below his earlobe. He pulled Eddie’s earlobe into his mouth like a piece of fruit and bit down gently. Eddie moaned and ground his cock down harder on Steve’s thigh.

“Been waiting for this for so long,” Steve whispered, his breath tickling Eddie’s ear. Eddie laughed, an incredulous, shaky thing.

“You’ve been waiting for this? I’ve been dealing with inappropriate boners all summer.”

Steve sighed. “Should have said something sooner.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Eddie agreed vehemently.

Eddie shifted so he could also get a thigh between Steve’s legs. He’d been thoroughly convinced of Steve’s attraction by now, but it was still shocking to feel Steve’s hard cock against his thigh. Eddie pressed his thigh up, drawing a shocked groan out of Steve. He swiveled his hips to rub his own cock harder against Steve.

Steve moved his mouth to the pulse point in Eddie’s neck. He licked over it, just like he’d licked the apple, and the banana, and the peach. He scraped his teeth against the delicate skin. He bit down lightly and sucked. It hurt in the best possible way.

Eddie’s hips began to move in a rhythm, rutting against Steve’s leg and letting his own thigh be used. Steve panted against his neck and reached a hand between them and thumbed at the button of Eddie’s jeans. “Want to feel you,” he muttered, his face hidden in Eddie’s neck. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Eddie whispered, barely more than an exhalation.

Steve deftly opened his jeans, with a dexterity that only a sexually experienced jock could manage. He slid his hand into Eddie’s boxers and wrapped it around his dick.

It was truly a miracle that Eddie didn’t come right then and there. More miraculous then his recovery after being eaten alive by monstrous bat creatures. His body was a wonder. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“This okay?” Steve asked, finally removing his face from Eddie’s neck and looking at him. His cheeks were colored with a pretty blush, and his lips were red and kiss-swollen. Eddie wanted to see this look on Steve every day for the rest of his life.

Eddie nodded. He touched two fingers to Steve’s jeans with a question in his eyes. Steve nodded.

Eddie opened his jeans with a lot less savoir faire than Steve had displayed, but he hadn’t had nearly as much practice. When his palm made contact with the warm, velvety skin of Steve’s cock, he thought he may have actually died from the horniness heart burst. Maybe this was heaven.

The head of Steve’s cock was wet, much wetter than Eddie ever got. Eddie used the precum to smooth the glide of his hand, squeezing and twisting as he pumped Steve’s shaft. Steve’s own hand caught on Eddie’s cock, friction getting in the way. Steve let out a frustrated huff.

“Here, let’s try something,” Eddie mumbled. He removed his hand from Steve’s pants, earning himself a pathetic whimper that sent a thrill through his whole body. They’d definitely have to revisit that at a later time. He pushed his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock, then shoved at Steve’s. Steve got the message, pulling his own down.

Eddie lined their cocks up side-by-side. His hand didn’t fit all the way around both of them, but Steve brought his hand down to join him. Together, they could envelop both cocks. Eddie began to move his hand, spreading Steve’s ample precum down both of their shafts. Steve moved with him.

The feeling of Steve’s cock pressed against his own was unlike anything Eddie had ever experienced. He’d seen people do this in gay porn he’d found in a sex shop in Indy, but had never tried it himself. The skin of Steve’s cock was so smooth and warm against his own.

Steve leaned his head back down to kiss Eddie. It was filthy and wet, Steve’s spit still laced with the taste of apples. Eddie was going to have a Pavlovian response to apples from here on out. Apples would be a danger to him.

The movement of their hands in tandem was awkward at first, but eventually they got into a rhythm. Steve’s mouth against his, Steve’s cock against his, Steve’s chest against his. Steve everywhere. Warmth pooled in Eddie’s pelvis. He didn’t even have time to warn Steve before an orgasm rushed over him. Wave after wave of pleasure crested through his body as he spilled into their joined hands.

Steve bit down on Eddie’s lower lip hard enough to hurt, as his hips stuttered and he joined Eddie in his release. They both kept moving, slowly and out of sync, as they came down from their orgasms.

Their foreheads pressed together. Steve panted into Eddie’s mouth, his eyes still closed. Eddie watched the movement of his eyes beneath the lids, darting back and forth. There was a mole on the bridge of his nose, just to the side of the corner of his eye. Eddie wanted to learn all of Steve’s moles. Wanted to have them memorized. Wanted to kiss each one.

Finally, Steve’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled at Eddie, shyly. Like he hadn’t spent the last four months terrorizing Eddie with sexualized fruit.

“So. That was nice,” Steve mumbled. He looked unsure of himself.

Eddie let out a high-pitched, deranged laugh. “Nice? Nice, he says. Stevie, that blew my fucking mind.”

Steve’s shy look turned into a wide grin as his blush deepened. “Yeah? You don’t regret it?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s chin with his hand and held his face still while he looked him in the eyes. “I have never regretted anything less.”

“Good,” Steve said with a sigh and a nod. “Great. You wanna go on a date sometime?”

“I’d love to. I hear there’s a really nice pumpkin patch in Fernville. We could broaden our horizons, switch to vegetables.”

Also on AO3.

All dividers by @/saradika-graphics, except the banana divider, which is by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[gothamite-rambler]

Jim: All right, so I’d start in Bowery, searching from there is a good start. If you see a pimp named Lucifer you can beat him up. You look ridiculous as usual and did you ever have sex with my daughter?

Batman (delayed shock): …What?

Robin!Tim (flipping through the case file folder): He said we should start at Bowery, look for a satanic named pimp, insulted your suit, then asked if you violated his daughter.

Robin yawned, disinterested in the conversation. Batman, glancing from his sidekick to Jim, quickly saw the man wasn’t joking around. He looked around the roof checking for cameras, but Jim wasn't joking with him.

Batman: I might've blacked out for a second, repeat what you said, Gordon.

Jim: Gladly, Bruce, did you violate my daughter?

Batman: Right... You said that like it was a normal thing and not out of nowhere and an insulting accusation.

Robin!Tim (reading the case file): That wasn't yes or no to his question. Offended or not, you should probably give him the actual answer... Why did they take one of this guy's eyes?

Robin!Tim: That feels symbolic and makes sense. Batgirl was a teenager when you guys worked together?

Jim: That’s why I like him; he’s good at repeating and remembering information. So, did you ever violate my daughter? I won't be mad… I will only shoot you in the balls.

Batman: Y- Yes.

Jim: It's not that I don't trust him; it's just that my daughter already dated his goofy son. If this grown man touched my daughter in any way, no court would convict me.

Robin!Tim (joking): Ooo, sure hope you didn't go the R. Kelly route.

Batman (stoic, but annoyed): Robin, you know I didn't.

Robin!Tim: Obviously, but Jim isn't as trusting with you.

Robin!Tim (mid-yawn): Respect. B, can we get tea after we leave? I'm thirsty.

Batman: I will think about it, and I'm standing right here. Can I have a second to process this?

Jim: Sure, because you're not leaving until I get an answer.

Batman (unsure how to react): I… I respect the fact you will cause bodily harm to someone who harms your daughter, but… this is a lot. Circling back, you’re asking me if I ever had sexual relations with Batgirl?

Robin!Tim (sarcastically): Using the actual lie Bill Clinton said isn't the smartest defense. If it helps, I can hear Oracle cackling in my comm device.

Batman (stammering, defensive): I didn’t… I wouldn’t… We never had sex because we were never romantic together; I'm not that type of man. How dare you think for a moment I'm a man who would defile Batgirl! She's closer to my son's age than mine… not that I would if she were closer to my age!

Jim: Hm, you do seem to be telling the truth. Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?

Batman (flatly): Those are bullshit, and you know it. I'm your… fr-friend. Still not used to it.

Robin!Tim: I mean, outside of this, you do present yourself as a bit of a playboy. I don't blame the commissioner for being worried.

Batman (turning Tim around): Robin, step aside and read the damn folder.

Tim shrugged and wandered off, humming a jazz tune, clearly enjoying his time researching a kidnapping case. Batman groaned, covering his eyes in frustration.

Batman (pressing his comm, scolding tone): I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I swear to you, I’ve never done anything with her. We are friends. What did you tell him, Batgirl? Why would you tell him that?

Barbara: Relax, I’ve been denying all of that. He said he was going to ask, though. Just be glad I talked him out of bringing a gun.

Batman: Unless his holster has a fake gun that he's showing me, he definitely brought his gun!

Barbara (surprised at first, then cackling): Oh… hahahahahaha!

Batman (flatly): She's reveling in this… I'm just going to keep talking to you. Go ahead, ask your questions; I'm going to be truthful.

Jim (crossing his arms): Ever kissed her?

Batman (grossed out): No.

Jim: Had a hug that lasted too long?

Barbara (on comms, shivering): Gross.

Batman: I don’t even hug actual girlfriends for too long, but no, we've hugged five times, and it was quick and platonic.

Jim: Ever had sex with her on a roof?

Batman: That was with Catwoman, and she swore to keep that secret.

Jim: I… didn’t need to know that.

Batman: Now you do. I haven’t had sex with Batgirl or viewed her as some kind of sexual prospect. She was in high school when we met, and she will always be the high school girl who is my friend now. Why is it so difficult for people to accept that a man and a woman can be friends?

Jim and Barbara (in unison, her voice coming through the comm device): Because we know you, Bruce.

Batman: Okay, I'm putting a moratorium on calling me that name. When I am Batman, call me Batman. That is an easy thing to do. Next, I’m into many weird kinks. Yes, I have had relationships that some would label strange—

Robin!Tim (from far away): He's talking about Talia, Selina, Jillian Maxwell, Phantasm—

Batman (shouting, turning to his sidekick): READ THE CASE FILE!

Tim sighed, going back to reading the file about a double homicide outside a bar. Jim tilted his head, chuckling at his friend's reaction and beginning to feel reassured he hadn't slept with his daughter.

Batman: As I was saying, I'm not... What singer Robin mention?

Jim: R. Kelly, but there's also Jimmy Saville, Rolf Harris, the principal from Ferris Buellar.

Batman: I can't look at the movie the same way, but Gordon- Jim, I would never hurt you like that or her.

Jim: I don't know... I'm not going to hesitate shooting you if you're lying and I will let you live from it.

Batman: Ignoring Oracle's teasing to say - Look, you've made it clear you still judge me for being a man in an impressively made hero suit while being a great detective who can do your job better than you.

Batman: While I admire you'd do that, there's no need... also don't do that to anyone. You're one of the few good cops I tolerate. Don't go down a dark path.

Barbara (on comms, teasing): Aww, Jimmy and Brucie are best friends!

Jim: I never said that last part, but I'm assuming you think I doubt my own detective skills.

Jim (nonchalant): I can be overprotective of Batgirl, and in this situation, a man who's only a few years younger than me doing that with my daughter would set me off. But you're one of the few guy friends I have, and I wanted to get your word on this. I will believe you for now, but if it turns out you did the deed with her, you will be shot in the dick and live!

Batman: Exactly. I am not everyone's favorite person, but I'd never do something so reprehensible. When I look at Batgirl, she's a friend, family, my niece. If I did that to her, I could never see myself the same way. Jim, you are my friend, and I would never betray you like that, I promise.

Robin!Tim (walking past the two): That's so sweet.

Batman: Okay… oddly enough, I respect that. Thank you for asking first instead of shooting me.

Jim: Lucky you.

Batman (closing his eyes, holding his head down): I have weird friendships, but thanks, Jim.

Jim: No prob, buddy.

This is when Bruce had a fifteen year old Tim Drake as his Robin and a what if because for me I've never liked this ship. Fictional characters or not this one is gross to me and at least Dick and Babs made some sense.

[soleminisanction]

Saw your post in his tag and I completely agree with your Tim loves being Robin post! The “He needs to grow up” thing pisses me off so much. I kind of blame Damian for its existence, but that might be unfair. Isn’t there a comic where Dick lectures Tim about going back to being Robin or being in Bruce’s shadow again? I think I remember reading something like that, but I may be misremembering.

It's not a lecture exactly, but there was a fairly recent comic (here meaning, like I think it was from 2021, 2022? It maaaay have been an issue of Tim Drake: Robin but I genuinely don't remember) where he brought the subject up in the context of like, "It shouldn't be your job to take care of Bruce."

Blame is kinda the wrong word because it implies that Damian the character is "at fault" for the shift, but I do think it's fair to say that Damian/Damian's presence in the narrative is the source of where this sentiment comes from.

Partially because there's a not-insignificant number of Damian stans who seem incapable of separating his in-character resentment of and conflict with Tim from the larger scope of their stories and thus view Tim using the Robin name as a threat/insult to their fav, so they make up and glom onto any arbitrary reason they can come up with for why he should have to change and Damian should get to stay, like two people arguing over who should have to change after showing up to a dinner party in the same outfit.

But mostly it's because of the greater damage that the last ~15 years of pushing Damian as Robin has done to the Robin legacy and its role in the narrative. Which isn't really about Damian himself -- Damian is a perfectly fine character as he is, he tells interesting stories and he clearly offers narrative avenues that people are interested in exploring. The problem is that none of those avenues have damn thing to do with ROBIN.

The story of Damian being/having been Dick's Robin during the Batman Rebirth era is important to his personal story and the story of how he relates to both Dick and Bruce. But outside of that very specific era, which lasted a grand total of -- on the very generous outside -- two and half years, every single one of Damian's stories would be exactly the same if he'd been using literally any other superhero codename.

Because they're not really Robin stories, or Batman & Robin stories. They're either Son of the Bat stories, where Damian deals with the angst of being Batman's son; Batman & Son stories, where Bruce and Damian work on their familial relationship very specifically in the context of a father and his son; or Son of the Demon stories, where Damian unpacks the trauma/conflict/occasional pride of being Ra's al-Ghul's grandson.

The lone exception to this is Juni Ba's The Boy Wonder from last year, which is imho the best Damian story that's ever been written in no small part because it's a love letter to the Robin legacy as told through Damian's eyes while he learns to understand and appreciate that legacy. (It's also about other things but that's because it's a very very good story.)

On the flipside, probably Damian's most popular role, the one that people keep trying to shove both him and his costar back into, is kind of proof-positive of my entire point, because being one-half of The Supersons is a role that was NEVER meant to be filled by a Robin. It's a role that was created for, originated, and always intended to be filled, by a character literally named Batman Junior.

And yet. Because they've insisted, for the last ~15 years, on telling those stories while Damian is wearing a Robin costume, using the Robin name, and advertising under names like Robin: Son of the Bat, it's led to skewing the meta-narrative around what the role and legacy of Robin is supposed to mean.

Instead of being its own, complex and distinctly queer relationship ("queer" not in the sense that it is romantic or sexual, but in that it does not fit neatly into one of society's designated boxes for defining social relationships), the way it was for over 60 goddamn years, Robin has now been half-forced into a singular, distinctly heteronormative and patriarchal definition of "a father teaching his son." And sons are, by societal mandate, meant to someday either leave or overtake their fathers. And since only The Golden Firstborn Dick or the One True Blood Heir Damian is """allowed""" by these heteronormative definitions to someday inherit the cowl, everyone else has to be forced out. "To grow up" as people keep putting it.

The shift in perspective is a direct result of Damian being Robin. It's not the only factor -- Jason's post-UtRH movie popularity factors in too, since fandom tends to zero in on certain elements of his Robin years like the adoption and "Robin gives me magic" and reduce a lot of his less-flattering traits to ~sexy angst and daddy issues~ -- but the way Damian gets used in the narrative is the primary factor from where I'm sitting.

Like I said at the top: it's not Damian, the character's, "fault" or anything. It's just a really frustrating result of people trying to force a more ambiguous relationship into a heteronormative mold that it was never meant to fit, and then getting retroactively mad at characters who were never designed to fit in that mold for breaking it.

[cinnamoonblue]

Chapter VII | A Little Death

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala, Robin, Dave (OC)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP this story will contain descriptions of violence, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, explicit language, use of alcohol, use of cannabis, use of nicotine/cigarettes, angst, hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, implied injury, family trauma, slow burn, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, NSFW, conflicted feelings, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, violence, substance use, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression, mentions of loosing a loved one, mentions of violence, PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS

Word Count: 21,2K

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NOTE: This chapter drained me mentally and physically ngl… I literally edited it for five hours and still I’m not 100% satisfied with it but my brain is fried as this is idk which day in a roll where I’ve been awake until 5/6am to write… anyway I hope that you will enjoy it as I really tried to make it as good as possible guys. Also most of you are going to hate me for what you are about to read…. anyway enjoy ♡

The songs for the chapter are - ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood, ‘Attention’ by Tokio Hotel, ‘True Disaster’ by Tove Lo and ‘A Big Jet Plain’ by Angus & Julia Stone.

Yelling filled up the hospital room. I winced when Shanks continued to scream at me. I had woken up like an hour ago. Opening my eyes and seeing that I was in a hospital bed confused and scared me. I didn’t remember anything from last night, since the moment I was with the creepy guy by the bar. But what happened after that I had no idea. The first person who I saw waking up was Shanks. He seemed so stressed and pissed at the same time. When he saw me waking up, the only thing he said was that he was going to call the nurse without giving me any explanations of how I ended here. The nurse came fast and told me she would run some test. When I asked her what happened to me, she just looked at Shanks as she was hesitating if she should tell me or not. In response Shanks told her that he would explain to me. Once she left the room, he told me what had happened and since then he hasn’t stopped screaming.

 “How stupid you are? Explain? How could you take a drink from some stranger then on top of it leave with him?” Shanks yelled. The room filled up with silence. “Answer!” I twitched when he screamed at the top of his lungs. I was in a state of shock as it was still hard for me to process what had happened. My bottom lip trembled, and my eyes were filled up with tears. I have never seen Shanks this mad, neither he has ever raised his voice at me like this. The only thing I had my eyes focused on were my trembling fingers with which I was nervously playing with in my lap.

“Answer.” He said once again, but at least this time he wasn’t screaming, but his voice was still sharp. I couldn’t withhold the tears anymore and they started falling from my eyes. I lowered my head even more as I tried to hide my face with my hair, ashamed of what had happened. Ashamed and afraid.

“I-I... S-Shanks... I-I’m so-sorry...” I couldn’t find my voice. Everything came out as a whispered. “I d-don’t want to t-talk about i-it now... please...” I begged him as a sob left my lips.

“Oh no, we are going to talk about this now.” He said, walking back and forth around the room. “You had no idea, how lucky you got that you ended up in the hospital, rather than God’s know where.”

“I-I’m realising t-this Shanks. I g-guess the security a-acted fast.” I quietly said in between sobs.

“Oh, did I forgot to mention. No, no Foxy.” He stared to laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laughter. His laughter was mocking and full of rage. “The fucking security didn’t do shit, and this is something that I will personally take with the club owners.” I raised my head a bit, still hiding my face with my hair I glanced at Shanks. If it wasn’t the security, then who safe me?

“W-who was it t-then?”

“Your Romeo, who else.” Shanks chuckled mockingly. “I own Ace a big time now.” He murmured but I heard him. My heart skipped a beat. Ace saved me? But how? Panic took over my body again from the fact that I couldn’t remember anything that happened. Shanks started to fuss again but I didn’t pay him much attention this time, last thing I needed right now was this. “I told your father as well.” I snapped out of my thoughts the moment I heard Shanks saying this.

“Why did you do this Shanks?” I cried. The thought of my dad waking up to such news broke my heart. I didn’t want him to worry about me and to know that such thing had happened to me.

“Because he is your father, and he must know how stupid his daughter is.” Shanks spat, pulling his red hair frustrated. “God, I hope my kid is not as stup-“ He got interrupted by the door opening. It was Ace standing at the door. He looked at Shanks first then he moved his eyes to me. I lowered my head again not wanting him to see me in such state.

“Shanks why don’t you go out for a bit? I think you need some fresh air.” Ace held the door open and nodded to Shanks to get out of the room.

“Ace be careful with the tone.” Shanks pointed his finger at Ace warning him.

“Or what Shanks?” Ace crossed his arms in front of his chest, his posture straightened. He wasn’t afraid of Shanks, but he also knew that Shanks wasn’t going to do anything.

“I’m not done with her. She has a lot of questions to answer.” Shanks turned his piercing glance towards me. I didn’t dare to look towards neither of them.

“Sure, but I doubt this is what she needs right now.” Ace’s voice was stern yet protective. Shanks breathed out loudly.

“I will be back in ten minutes and you better start talking when I get back.” He pointed his finger at me this time before storming out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I winced at the sound of it. Neither Ace nor I said anything at first. My head was still lowered, not daring to lift it up and look at him. He grabbed a chair and placed it next to the hospital bed and took seat on it. His fingers grabbed my chin gently and lift my head making me look at him. My chest rose and fell quickly as I looked into his eyes. I bit on my trembling lip hard as I tried to not let out any sobs, but the tears escaped my eyes. Without saying anything Ace just pulled me closer to him and wrapped me in his arms. The sob that I was holding escaped my mouth the moment I buried my head in the crook of his neck. I wrapped my arms around him holding on tight for dear life.

“It’s okay, doll.” He cooed in my ear. “You’re safe. I’m here.” Ace whispered the last part. He was gently rubbing circles on my back with one of his hands while with the other he was running his fingers through my hair. I was not sure how long we stayed like this, but he held me until I pulled away from him first. I sniffed and swallowed hard before I could find my voice to speak up.

“Aren’t you mad at me like Shanks is?” My voice was barely audible. I thought I had no more tears left to cry, but one escaped the corner of my eye.

“Oh, I am.” Ace said. He reached with his hand and whipped the tear away with his thumb. I lowered my head again, not wanting to look at his eyes and see the same disappointment Shanks had. He lifted my chin up and made me look at him again. “But I’m more pissed at your friends for not looking after you.” His voice was soft, but his face was stern.

“I’m not a child. They are not responsible for my safety nor my mistakes.” I said and Ace just sighed and let go of my face. He shook his head and closed his eyes rubbing his temples. “Don’t be mad at them I beg you.” I carefully reached out and placed my hand on top of his squeezing it, making him look at me again. His nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled before he gave me a stern look.

“Promise you will never ever, no matter the circumstances, accept anything, not just drinks, I mean anything from strangers, especially men.” I have never heard or seen Ace being so serious about something as he was now. I swallowed hard and nodded, lowering my gaze. “Look at me and say it.” His voice became low and warning.

“I-I promise.” I breathed out. He nodded with a huffed, looking away from me. I eyed him and just now noticed how tired and tensed his body posture was. Dark circles were placed under his eyes, which meant he hasn’t slept at all. I looked around the hospital room for a clock. My eyes landed on one placed by the door. It was almost one pm. How long have I been out exactly? Salience took over the room once again, but this time I was the one to break it. “Thank you.” I whispered. Ace tilted his head at me and slightly nodded. “How... how did you find me... like... last thing I remember is being by the bar with...with...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Chills ran down my back when I remembered the guy’s face from last night. I should have trusted my guts and tell him to fuck off. My breath quickened as I started trembling and Ace noticed it.

“Calm down. Don’t think about it.” He was quick to reassure me. “I went looking for you, as no one had seen you for a while. Just before you went out of the club, I saw your skirt and ran after you.” His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. Something was running through his mind, and I wasn’t sure what it was.

“W-what h-happened to the g-guy?” My voice trembled with fear. A puff of air escaped Ace’s nose in a makeshift laugh.

“You don’t need to worry about it, doll. He has been taken care off.” He moved a strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I gave him a doubtful look.

“What do you mean he has been taken care off? Did the police lock him?”

“Yeah. As I said, don’t worry, you are safe.” Ace gave me a smile, but something in this smile wasn’t sincere. But I wasn’t stupid, and I knew it was pointless to try to get any information from him or Shanks, because if they have sat their minds on not telling me then no matter how much questions I asked I would receive no answer.

“I’m sorry if I destroyed your big night...” I nibbled on my bottom lip. The guilt was written all over my face. “I hope you won’t get in trouble because of me.”

“Didn’t destroy anything and you don’t need to worry about me.” He said as he got up from the chair and ruffled my hair. “I think they will let you go home later today, so if you need something call or text me, okay?” I frowned when I realised he was going to leave now. I didn’t want him to leave. Not yet at least. Having Ace around felt safer than Shanks, mostly because I knew he wouldn’t let Shanks scream at me and right now all I needed was some peace and quiet.

“A-are you l-leaving?” I looked at him from under my lashes as I played nervously with my fingers. Ace was clearly taken aback from my question, which surprised me. He placed a hand on the nape of his neck and gave me an awkward chuckle.

“I, um yeah. Do you want me to stay longer?”

“No.” I shook my head fast. “I-I... No. You have done more than I could ever ask for. Thank you, Ace. I-I... I own you a big time.” I didn’t want him to stay longer, I needed him to do so, but I could see that he was tired and the tension between him and Shanks was visible. He had really done more for me than I could ask for – he did safe my life, as no one knew what that guy could have done to me.

“You don’t own me anything.” Ace half smiled at me and before he left, he stopped for a second and looked over his shoulder at me. “Take care, doll.” He told me before he closed the door behind himself.

It has been a week and some days since the ‘accident’ happened. My phone was blowing after I got out of the hospital. Nami even called me crying and I had to reassure her that I was fine, and it wasn’t her fault. The only thing I requested from everyone were two things: first – no one at our university must find out about what happened as I didn’t want people coming at me and asking me questions and whatsoever, and second for some piece and quiet. Then I had to face my dad, which was the hardest conversation I had with him in a while. He had come here the day after I came back from the hospital. The conversation was long and very emotional, but at least he wasn’t as harsh as Shanks was, and it was nice to have him so close to me again. Speaking of Shanks, he had calmed down, but at the same time I understood where his frustration came from, and I knew that he reacted this way out of love and care for me. My father and Shanks were checking on me everyday to a point where they were becoming a little annoying, but again probably if I were on their place I would have done the same. I was spending most of my days with my father, catching up with him for the time we had spent apart. He was staying over at Shanks place, so it was only at night when I was alone. That was when I would get triggered, but I wasn’t entirely alone. There was always this one person who was checking on me daily, especially at night before I went to sleep. Ace was texting me everyday to check how I was doing or if I was in need anything. Every time my phone would vibrate, I was hoping it was a message from him and when it was my heart would skip a beat, and the smile was immediately on my face. Which was so hard to control especially when my father was around, but I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tired.

It was already ten something pm and I was getting ready to go to bed, as tomorrow I planned to go to my last lectures for this year. Even though part of me still wanted to be home alone, I knew that I had to go out and continue with my life. The worst didn’t happen, so I had to be grateful and continue. I was brushing my teeth when my phone vibrated. The smile on my face couldn’t be stopped as I saw from who the message was from. I cleaned my teeth and face fast and grabbed my phone as I unlocked it when I jumped on my bed.

‘Wanna grab coffee after your classes tomorrow?’ I bit on my bottom lip as I started to write a response to his message. I wrote ‘it’s a date ;)’ but just before I sent it, I realised that Ace didn’t mean it at all to be a date, so I quickly deleted the message.

“‘Our spot?’ Yes, this one sounded better.” I said to myself as I pressed sent and waited for his response.

‘Yea, you can call it that I guess.’ before I could respond he sent me another message. ‘What time you be finishing?’

We texted back and forth for good forty something minutes before we said goodnight. Putting my phone away to charge, I exhaled deeply. I couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow. I covered my face with the palms of my hands as I felt blood rushing all over my cheeks. This man was making it very hard to be just his friend.

“Fucking Ace.” I said to myself giggling.

The lectures finished just on time, and I packed my stuffs as fast as possible. Classmates and professors were exchanging wishes and so on for Christmas, but I didn’t pay them much attention.

“Why are you in such big hurry?” Nami looked at me curiously. I gave her an awkward smile as I tired to come up with excuse because I couldn’t tell her that I was meeting with Ace in less than thirty minutes.

“I... you know... kinda wanna go home as fast as possible, because... you know...” Making an excuse with what happened was the worst thing I could have come up with, but right now I couldn’t think of anything else. Nami sadly frowned. She was still feeling guilty for what happened. I quickly went to her and pulled her in a hug.

“Please, stop. It wasn’t your fault at all. If anyone is to blame, it’s me for being so reckless.” I tried my best to reassure her, because it was my fault for accepting the drink instead of telling the guy to leave me alone.

“No don’t blame yourself. The only person to blame is that asshole who did this to you. Thanks God that the security acted on time.” I looked at Nami confused. What did she mean by this? It wasn’t the security that stopped the guy, it was Ace. “Are you really sure that you are, okay?” Nami pulled away and observed my face carefully.

“Yes, I am okay I promise... just...” I paused for a moment. “Nami it wasn’t the security who stopped him, it was Ace.” I chuckled, still looking at her with confusion.  

“What? But Luffy and Zoro told me different story. Are you sure?” Confusion crossed her face as well.

“Pretty, sure. Maybe they just didn’t want to worry you more you know.” I shrugged. This was the only logical explanation behind it.

“Yes, you are right, but still strange.” She shook her head and looked at me with care and worry. “But if there is something or someone you need, please let me know.” She said as I squeezed her shoulders and nodded reassuring her that if I needed something I would let her know. “I know you are not coming to the party tonight, but we will see each other during the break, right?”

“Of course we will. My dad is leaving on the twenty-eight so after it I’m all free.” I gave her a big smile. We bit each other goodbye, and I quickly left the lectures room.

I was walking fast towards the exit. My heart was beating faster knowing that I was meeting Ace in just a few minutes. Just when I was pushing the door to exit our programs building, I heard my name being called. I turned around and I was met with no one else but Dave.

“Hey Dave.” I smiled at him. He took me by surprise when he wrapped his arms around me in a strong hug. I was not only surprised but confused as well. I slowly raised my hands and patted his back. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m the one who should ask you this. Nami told me what happened to you, and I wanted to reach you out and see you, but she told me you wanted to be left alone, so I didn’t dare to bother you.” He blurted out super fast I almost didn’t catch what he said. I mentally cursed Nami, I asked her specifically to not tell a single soul and of course of all people she told Dave. “Also please don’t get mad at her. She only told me because I was worried about you, and you weren’t here and you also didn’t respond to any of my messages and I thought at first that you are mad at me or something.” He finally pulled away from me and I was able to breath. His eyes and whole face were full of worry and concern. 

“I-I... oh Dave...” I felt so bad. He had texted me so many times during this week and I kept ignoring his messages and it wasn’t even on purpose. “Look Dave, I’m fine. I promise you I’m all good as long as I don’t think or speak about it. So, please don’t worry about me.” I patted him on the shoulder and gave him another smile as I was hoping that this would calm him for now. “And I’m so sorry for ignoring your messages I just wanted to be left alone... I-I hope you understand.”

“Please, if you need something let me know.” He pulled me once again for a hug and this time I wrapped my arms around him too.

“I’m sorry again for not responding.” I said as we pulled apart. “I didn’t do it purposely hope you know this. But I must go now, we will catch some other time.”

“Do you want me to walk with you? I have time.” He opened the door for me and the cold air hit my face when we stepped outside.

“No, it’s okay, thank you again.” I said with a smile. Dave was a very nice guy, and I really appreciated his efforts and wants to be of help for me. “We should catch up sometime.”

“Actually... I wanted to ask you something.” His smile grew and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I know how much you love ‘Interstellar’ and there is this special screening at the cinema next to my place the end of the month and... you know...” He awkwardly chuckled. “I was wondering if you would like to go with me and... yeah watch the movie.” His brows raised, expecting my answer.

“Sure, yeah this would be fantastic.” I nodded eagerly. “When is it?”

“It’s on twenty-ninth.”

“Perfect, then text me more details and we will go.” I waved him goodbye and left before he had the chance to say something more.

The coffee shop was fifteen minutes away, so I fasten my pace as much as I could while trying to keep my balance due to the frozen patches on the sideways. The smile on my face was growing bigger with every passing second. I just couldn’t wait to finally see him. The bubble of excitement was growing in my stomach. A part of me was also nervous as last time we properly saw each other was when I stayed over at his place. I didn’t count the club or the hospital. I was crossing the street when I saw his tall figure. He was in front of the coffee shop, smoking a cigarette. His orange beany that I loved was placed on top of his messy raven black hair. He was dressed pretty casually, a dark grey jacket which seemed pretty light for the temperatures outside and some dark blue jeans. Ace had his phone in his other hand, so it seemed like he didn’t notice me. I mischievously smiled when I carefully sneaked behind him, trying my best go unnoticed. He took one last drag from his cigarette and threw it in the bin beside him. I took this as my opportunity. Now it was the best time to surprise attack him but as I ran, I didn’t notice that there was an icy patch, and I slipped. I fall on my butt and a loud squawked escaped my lips. Ace quickly turned around and when he saw me on the ground, he bust out laughing.

“It’s not funny.” I pouted and tried to stand but it was too slippery under me.

“Yea, it’s hilarious. Did you hurt yourself?” He continued to laugh as he reached his hand offering me his help. I grabbed it with a groan and he pulled me up like I weighted nothing. I was starting to wonder how strong Ace was actually. I patted my butt as some snow got on my coat. I looked up and I was met with his charming smile. “Hey, doll.” He pinched my cheek. A shy smile formed on my face as I bit on my bottom lip.

“Hey, Ace.” I quietly said. He laughed once again and nodded towards the cafe, as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led us in. My breath got caught up in my lungs, not only because I was so close to him, but because I didn’t expect such closure from him. Once again Ace was full of surprises when it came to his behaviour. Sometimes he was cold and distant, not in the mood at all, and sometimes like now he was, well he was in a good mood. Once inside we went straight to the coffee counter. I haven’t been here for almost a month. The whole place was decorated with Christmas lights and decorations, making it even cozier. It was busy but not so much so there were plenty of seats. Still with his hand around my shoulders Ace leaned closer to me.

“What would you like, doll?” His voice was low and deep as his breath hit the skin around my ear. I tilted my head to have a better look at him without realising how close our faces were. Shivers ran down my spine. In the past few days, the idea of having someone so close to me was terrifying, even today when Dave hugged me it felt somehow alarming. But having Ace so close, didn’t feel this way, it felt nice and safe. Yes, it did make me nervous, but not for the same reasons if it was somebody else. “Cat got your tongue?” He clicked with his tongue as his smirk started growing. I pulled my head slightly away from him and playfully rolled my eyes.

“I will get a tea.” I returned the smirk. He lightly nodded and pulled away from me, removing his hand from my shoulders as it was our turn to order.

“What flavour you want?” He handed me their special seasonal tea menu. I took a quick look at it and pointed at the one I wanted. “Have you eaten? Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I haven’t, but I’m not hungry.” I said with a half smile. My appetite was very low these days, and I have skipped a lot of meals.

“Sorry, could you please give us a second.” Ace politely said to the barista girl, and she nodded. “When did you last eat?” He turned to me and looked at me seriously.

“Geez, Ace don’t act like me dad now. I ate when I ate, please let’s just order the drinks.” I protested. Ace huffed and turned again to the barista.

“Yea, so the tea, one black coffee and could you please add one BLT sandwich. Thanks.” Before I could say anything, he had already paid. The girl behind the counter said that she would come with the order, which was odd due to the fact that they didn’t serve on the tables here, but I guessed it had to do with Ace’s charming smile. We went to sit at the back of the cafe on one of the small tables there. Walking behind him, I was frowning. Did he ever listen to me? Before we sat down, we both took off our jackets. While I had a thick sweater under my coat, Ace was with a short sleeve t-shirt.

“Aren’t you freezing?” I asked him, my brows frowned as I was a little pissed at him.

“No, I feel pretty hot actually.” He said and sat down. “Till this day Dadan tells me that my blood is probably made of fire, because I always feel hot.” I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips as I sat opposite of him. Still, I crossed my arms in front of my chest and gave him an annoyed look. “What?” Ace snorted.

“What?” I spat raising my brows. “Could you please stop manhandling me? I told you I wasn’t hungry. And what if I don’t like it?”

“Oh doll, I promise you if you think this is manhandling, I will manhandle you for real and then you will be begging me for more.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a small smirk as he saw the way I froze from his response. I opened and closed my mouth, but nothing came out. Thankfully the barista came with our order. Ace thanked her without moving his gaze from me. He breathed out and gave me a pleading look. “Eat, please. You told me yourself you are barley eating these days.” I have forgotten that I’ve shared this with him, but still, he should have listened to me. “I didn’t manhandle you, okay? I just want to make sure you are taking care of yourself.” He reached and placed his hand on top of mine. His aunt wasn’t wrong when she told him that he was made of fire. His hand was so much warmer on top of mine. He took it and ran his thumb across my knuckles. “I’ve promised you to not push you to talk about it, but please at least take care of yourself.” I inhaled and exhaled deeply before I nodded and pulled my hand away from his.

“Can you at least help me with it, as it’s quite big.” I said as I grabbed the sandwich, which did look very tasty, and was cut in two halves and handed him one half of it. He pushed my hand back and chuckled.

“How about you eat as much as you can first and then if you can’t finish it, I will help you?” I decided to not argue with him and just nodded taking a bite of the sandwich. It was as tasty as it looked. Ace laughed at me as he saw my eyes widen from the taste of it. “You see, doll? I know what you like.” He propped his chin on his hand giving me a cheeky half smile.

“So what else are you up to this week except rehearsing with the guys?” I asked taking another bite of the food.

“Why you wanna take me out or something?” He said sarcastically, before he held his coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip of it. I knew he was messing with me, but still his response got me blushing.

“Hell no.” I rolled my eyes. “Just curious about your schedule.” I said lifting my shoulder in a half shrug. Ace leaned on the back of the chair and crossed his ankles as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Hm, I have something in mind, but I’m not entirely sure if I will do it, yet. Anyway, wanna come over this Sunday, you have a movie to show me.”

“Why on Sunday?” I raised my eyebrow teasingly. “Why not Friday or Saturday?”

“I’m busy.” His mouth twitched. He was up to something.

“Busy with what?” I squinted my eyes playfully leaning closer to the table.

“It’s a secret.” He leaned in closer, too.

“You have secrets from me now?” I mockingly pouted. He mocked my pout, and I couldn’t withhold the giggle that escaped my lips. I finished with one half of sandwich and pushed the plate with the rest towards him. “I’m full. Thank you for the meal.” I grabbed the still warm tea mug and placed it to my lips, blowing it before I took a sip. The tea was spicy and sweet – a mixture of cinnamon, gingerbread cookie and orange. “Mmm, you have to try this.” I stretched my hands across the small table and nodded my head to Ace to try it. He took the teacup from me and took a sip of the tea. Placing the mug back in front of me, his face scrunched at the taste of it. “You didn’t like it?” My head tilted a bit in surprised as I thought he would most certainly like it. He shook his head.

“I like that it’s spicy, but it’s too sweet.” His mouth twisted as he shrugged. “I’m not really into sweet treats, doll.” Ace gave me a wink.

“Oh, so you are not into me, I see...” I raised the tea with both of my hands covering almost my entire face but my eyes as I wiggled my eyebrows playfully. The confidence that took over me came out of nowhere, which cause my whole face to flush, even Ace raised his brows in surprise. My gaze wasn’t leaving his as he let out a boyish laugher at my comment.

“Nah, doll. Too sweet for my taste.” He said placing his elbows on top of the table and leaning closer to me. I took a sip of the tea and placed the mug back on the table, leaning forward mimicking his position. Our faces were close but not close enough for it to seemed too intimate. We were just looking at each other with teasing looks in our eyes. I tilted my head bit before giving him a sweet smile.

“Don’t worry Ace, it’s mutual.” I winked at him. A short exhale of breath escaped his lips reminiscent of laugh.

“Good.” He said nodding with a smirk as he pulled away without breaking eye contact.

“Why don’t you come over and we watch it at my place instead?” This wasn’t the first time I have invited him over. While I stayed at home for this week and a half, I invited him at least three times and he always brushed me off.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Really?” I didn’t expect this response. I thought he would cut me off again.

“Yea, sure. But I will come late probably, keep this in mind.” He fixed his beany a bit, but his messy curls were still poking from all directions. I would lie if I said that I didn’t want to bury my fingers in his dark locks. His hair was so soft in a way I was yearning to get the chance to play with it again. My fingers still remembering the feeling of when he had let me run them through it while we were high. I was very aware of my physical attraction towards him, there were some feelings that were present, but I had to supress them for the sake of our so called ‘friendship’. Ace pulled me out of my trance state as he called my name. “High up in the clouts?” He chuckled.

“Yes. Quite high.” I breathed out.

“So how are things now with Robin?” Ace asked Law without looking at him. He was too focused on the paper in front of him. It was Friday night, almost past eleven pm. Deuce and Sabo had already gone home after a long day of rehearsing and writing, it was only him and Law left in the studio. Law was taking a little break as his mind was going to explode. They had locked themself in the studio since the morning. Taking a sip of his water Law observed Ace. His postured was hunched and he looked extremely tired. Since they have announced that they will be realising an album Ace was the one who had pushed them to work even harder now.

“Things are going pretty well. We are even celebrating Christmas together.” Law responded. Ace whistled when he heard his friend response.

“You are seriously cuffed m-” Ace got interrupted as his phone lighted up indicating he had received a message. His mouth twitched upwards as he saw who had texted him, which didn’t go unnoticed by Law.

“Mhm, I’m definitely the cuffed one.” A make shifted laughter escaped Law’s nose. “How’s (Y/N)?”

“Better now.” Ace replied as he was typing something on his phone. “Here look at these lyrics! You think they will match the verse you wrote?” Without moving his eyes from his phone Ace handed Law the piece of paper he was focused on before his phone distracted him. Law grabbed the paper and observed the lyrics.

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

Law hummed once he read the lyrics. They were going to do good as a chorus. His eyes moved back to his dear friend. He had never seen Ace like this, and the worst part was that Ace was denying it. Ace was still keening on the idea that he was only sexually attracted to (Y/N), and what he was feeling was just nothing more than sexual desire. Yet, if Ace could get a glimpse of himself when he was texting her or just when he was around her, he would probably not recognise himself. Law wasn’t stupid he was very aware of who was Ace texting right now. He also knew what had happened and saw for himself how tensed Ace was the first few days after the accident. And now on top of it these lyrics, which were clearly written for (Y/N). Ace finally put his phone away and looked at Law. Even thought he was obviously exhausted his mood has increased drastically.

“What do you think?” Ace asked, his foot tapping nervously on the floor.

“I think they will do very good as catchy chorus.” Law handed him back the paper. “Also, I already have an idea for the second verse.” He grabbed a new piece of paper and started writing down.

“Don’t you think they are a little cringe?” Ace scrunched his face as he repeated the lyrics in his mind.

“You do sound like a horny virgin.” Saying this Law received a flying paper ball towards his head, but he ducked, and it missed him. Both shared a laugher as Law reached with his hand towards Ace and handed him the piece of paper where he wrote down the second verse.

Dancing through the night A vodka and a Sprite A glimpse of her silhouette A night that they'd never forget

“Do you have any melody in mind for this?” Ace asked, grabbing his guitar and propping it on his right knee. Law grabbed his as well and started to play around with some chords. Ace hummed and tapped with his fingers on his guitar before he followed Law.

“Do you wanna record it and mess around with it more tomorrow?” Law looked up at Ace. Both were quite exhausted, but they could handle one more hour of work.

“Yea, we can do this just so we can work more on it this weekend.” Ace got up and grabbed one of the microphones in the studio adjusting it closer to him as he sat back down. It didn’t take them more than an hour to record an acoustic version of the song. It wasn’t the best but it was far away from the final result of the song.

“Are you going to Robin’s place?” Ace asked as he took a puff of his cigarette. Law and he decided to take a quick smoke before they say goodbye.

“Nah, she is already asleep, plus we start early tomorrow.” He replied before a smirked formed on his face. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Ace raised his brow.

“Come on, bro. What’s going on with (Y/N)?” Law whined, he knew Ace was fully aware what he was asking him.

 “Well...” Ace took another drag of his cigarette. This was a good question – what was going between him and (Y/N). The lust for her was still there, but the more he was getting to know her the more it was growing. But it wasn’t only the sexual desire growing. There were guilt, shame and confusion on the back of his mind. Guilt because he didn’t want to destroy whatever they had going on but also, he couldn’t put aside the thoughts he had for her. Ot top of it he wasn’t blind or stupid. He could clearly see how she would blush or the way her breath would hitch the moment he complimented her or when he made more bold comment, or how she was always nervous around him. Ace also found it super adorable how sleek she thought she was being every time she would shyly check him out. There was also shame – the shame for his thoughts, his actions at times and mostly of Ace being Ace. The shame of who he was and knowing that he might bring this shame upon her was eating him alive from the inside. But more than everything Ace was confused. Confused because the more he was trying to distance himself from her the more he was yearning for her presence. The way he was craving their small meaningless talks along with the deeper ones. The desire to wrap his arms around her and kiss her slowly but passionate until they both run out of breath, but not in a hungry lustful way just a burning sensual kiss. At this point it was taking all his willpower every time their faces were inches apart to pull her closer and say, ‘fuck this’ and get lost in the feeling. And this weird obsession of being able to protect her from any harm. But no – he couldn’t do this to her, not to (Y/N). Yet, he had never felt this way, this desire towards any girl. The only logical explanation was the fact that he had told himself that he couldn’t have her. Yes, this was it. The answer to all his guilt, shame and confusion was because for a first time ever he couldn’t have a girl he wanted. It was all because he put a limit to himself. Law snapped his finger in front of Ace’s face, and he snapped back to reality. “Shit sorry man... um yeah (Y/N)... nothing, just friends.”

“Again the ‘friends’ bullshit?” Law snorted and rolled his eyes at Ace. He threw his cigarette on the ground and tapped Ace on the shoulder two times. “At least be honest with yourself if you want to keep lying to others.” Law didn’t wait for his response and just left. His words stuck something deep within Ace.

“Fuck off, Law.” Ace screamed after his friend to which Law responded with raising his hand up in the air and showing Ace the middle finger. Rolling his eyes Ace threw away his cigarette and grabbed his helmet. He got on his motorcycle and headed home. On the way there he couldn’t stop thinking about what Law had said to him. Ace was honest with himself, after all he wasn’t a kid. He was a grown up and he knew where his feelings stood, and they were nowhere near (Y/N). All he felt towards her was pure lust only because he had limited himself. If he had had his way with her already, she would have been long time forgotten. But now he was stuck in a friendship with her. Not like he didn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite. He really liked spending time with her, it was the fact that he was acting like a horny teenager when it came to her, but he was sure that it was going to go away soon. Maybe the whole protective and caring behaviour towards her was because he was Luffy’s age. Yes, this was it – lust because he couldn’t sleep with her and the overly protective obsession was from the fact that she was the same age as his little brother was.

Sunday came faster than expected. Ace and the rest of the guys were stuck in the studio the entire day. They even called Usopp to help them with producing and final touches for the song. After two long days the song was done. Everyone high-fived and cheered once they finished the record.

“Song number one is done.” Deuce cheered loudly standing behind Ace and grabbing his shoulders shaking him.

“Easy there, Deuce.” Ace laughed at his friend enthusiasm. “Just because we recorded a song it doesn’t mean it will end up on the album.”

“What? This song is getting on the album. The chorus are extremely catchy, so this song is on.” Deuce nudged his sides and Ace whined.

“It can make it to the album, but it won’t be a single, that is for sure.” Law called after Deuce.

“Oh, my big bro killed it with the vocals again.” Sabo jumped on Ace’s back almost knocking them both on the ground. Ace was quick to grunt him. They all sat down – some on the spinning chairs others on the couch, exhaustion written all over their faces.

“How’s uni going Usopp?” Ace was the first one to break the silence as he had propped himself on the couch with one hand on the back of it.

“Good, but I’m so happy we finally got some break.” Usopp answer and turned to face Ace as he was saving some files until now. “How is lif-” He got interrupted as his phone vibrated. “Hell, yeah.” Usopp raised his hands in the air as he screamed like his favourite football team scored a goal in the last second. Everyone gave him a questioning look.

“Care to share the news?” Sabo snorted.

“You guys remember Dave?” Everyone nodded except Ace, he didn’t like where this was going just by the guy’s name being mentioned. “So, my boy is head over heels (Y/N), and I told him to make a move finally and apparently he asked her this Wednesday and she agreed to go out with him and now he texted me that he set his mind on confessing to her.” Sabo and Deuce cheered among with Usopp, while Law glanced at Ace and his face was unreadable like a stone. Meanwhile Ace mind was running wild. (Y/N) didn’t say anything about a ‘date’ with anyone last Wednesday when they saw each other. Was she even into this dude? Speaking of (Y/N) he was supposed to go to her place tonight and watch her short movie, which he had totally forgot about and just now it crossed his mind. Ace got up fast and pulled his phone looking at the time. It was still nine pm, so he had some time to catch up with her.

“What is the hurry?” Sab looked at his brother suspiciously.

“I remembered I have some shit at home I must take care of.” Ace said putting on his leather jacket on.

“You won’t be joining us for a beer?” Deuce frowned his brows as he pushed his thick black glass frames.

“Not tonight guys. Usopp thanks for the help, man.” Ace half waved at them and left the studio as fast as possible. Before he got on his motorbike, he texted her a quick message that he was on his way to her place.  

Ace felt his whole body tensing up, on top of it every red light was catching him. His mind went back to what Usopp said. (Y/N) didn’t mention anything like this at all not even when they were texting. But maybe it was a good. If she gets herself a boyfriend, then there would be even better reason for Ace to stay away from her. After twenty minutes which felt like eternity he parked in front of her building. He pulled up his phone to text her to give him the door code, but his eyes widen at the message he had received from her a little after he had texted that he was on his way.

‘The door code is 7744... also my dad is here, and he said ‘I’m not leaving until I meet him’... hope you don’t mind >.<’ Ace cursed under his breath. Why did her father want to meet him? If he had seen the message earlier, he would have at least more time to prepare for it. He took a deep breath and for a moment hesitated if he should smoke a quick cigarette before heading upstairs but instead cursed once more and made his way to (Y/N)’s apartment.

“Dad please, leave.” I was begging him even before Ace texted me that he was on his way. “I can tell him that you are grateful for what he did that night.”

“Baby girl, no.” My father brushed me off again. “As a father and as a man I must thanked the man who saved my daughter.” Like the diva my father was he brushed his long ponytail on the side.

“You are such a diva.” I whined and checked my phone to see if Ace had responded but I had nothing. He hasn’t even seen the message. I just hope that he would show up. We stayed in silence until I heard the doorbell ring. Before I could react, my dad was already at the door. “No, dad wait.” I called after him, but it was too late. The giggle that escaped my lips couldn’t be stopped especially when I saw Ace’s reaction once the door opened. He got taken aback and blush spread across his cheeks as my father greeted him.

“Come on in young man.” Dad moved to the side and waved his hand to Ace to get in. Ace slightly nodded and got inside.

“Hey.” I softly said as I reached with my hand to take his jacket. He mouthed a quick hello back as he was taking his boots off. Once he straitened his posture my dad patted him on the back and led him inside. I bit on my lip, holding on the chuckled that wanted to escape my lips at the sight of them. Ace was so much taller than my father so the sight on my dad short form pushing him around was just hilarious to look at. They sat on the couch and my dad grabbed Ace’s right hand and shook it firmly.

“Where are my manners? Buggy, nice to meet you Ace, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” My father patted Ace’s shoulder as he let go of his hand. I sat on the ground and scrunched my faced from embarrassment as I heard what my father said.

“N-nice to meet you as well, sir.” Ace chuckled and glanced at me. The confusion in his eyes was so easy to read. I just shrugged as I couldn’t do anything to help him right now.

“I want to personally thank you for saving my daughter.” Dad’s voice got serious and stern. “Shanks and I own you a big time, because I don’t want to think what would have happened to my precious baby girl if you haven’t interfered on time.”

“Sir plea-” My dad was quick to correct Ace to call him by his name. “Buggy, okay.” Ace chuckled. “You own me nothing, I did what I had to do.”

“Ah, so modest.” Dad dramatically gripped his t-shirt in a fist where his heart was, and I rolled my eyes.

“Now this is his usual behaviour.” I said to Ace, and he laughed.

“She always has a comment to make towards my behaviour.” Dad nudged Ace with his elbow.

“Actually, me and my brothers are big fans of your comedy.” Ace turned to my dad with a charming smile.

“Oh dear, my heart is going to explode. But I’m a fan of your band, too.”

“No way, you are kidding me.” Ace’s brows raised in surprised, and his eyes lit with happiness. He looked at me in a way to confirm if my father was messing up with him or not.

“He is a fan, Ace.” I nodded with a smile.

“Damn... honestly if my brothers know that I’ve met you they would be so jealous.” Ace laughed in disbelief.

“Not to flex but I am a singer myself.” My dad stuck his nose in the air. Before I could say something, my dad started to sing and all I wanted in this moment was for the ground to open and swallow me whole. He might have been a very good comedian, but the same couldn’t be said for his singing.

“Dad, dad.” I called interrupting him. “I think Ace got it that you are vocally gifted, no need for more.”

“If you need a back singer, you could always call me.” He winked at Ace and who started to laugh. One thing about Ace that I adored was the fact that when he was truly feeling a certain way his whole body was showing it. Like right now, his boyish laugher filled up the room while his shoulders and stomach muscles were flexing. His smile was reaching his eyes, and I took a mental picture of this moment in my mind.

“I would definitely make this phone call Buggy.” Ace said once his laugher calmed.

“Talking about singing, have you heard my daughter singing?” Dad turned to me; his eyes filled with mischievous.

“Never.” Ace turned his attention to me as well.

“And you won’t.” I was quick to say.

“Ace, buddy – imagine this.” Dad wrapped his arm around Ace broad shoulders and started to paint a picture with his other hand. “Imagine a deaf person who gets their hearing back and then they hear my daughter sing. Tears start to fall from their eyes, but not from the beauty of her voice but because they are wishing to turn back time and never hear a sound again.” Ace looked at me and his face scrunched as he shook his head.

“Poor deaf person.” He said as he winked at me.

“Hey, I sing bad but not this bad.” I was quick to defend myself.

“You know when she was around four years old, she found an ukulele.” I covered my face with the palms of my hands as I could easily die from embarrassment knowing which story my father was about to tell him. “She then proceeded lock me in her bedroom and until she was done with the three hour performance which mind you ended with the words ‘daddy I think I’m going to shit myself’ I had to endure- ” I was quick to interrupt him as Ace heard enough. Ace on the other hand, had his head back as he was laughing hard while holding on his stomach.

“Dad... I think it’s time for you to leave.”  

“Oh, come on. You were adorable. Should I tell him your beans story from when you were nineteen.” My dad wanted to die tonight.

“Okay, that was enough.” I got up on my feet and went to grab my father to leave. Him and Ace tried to protest but dad got the hint.

“Well, Ace it was a pleasure to meet you and again thank you.” He grabbed his hand again and shook it before he got up. My mouth set in a hard line as I shoot my eyes to the door making my dad leave faster. “Okay, okay I’m leaving, relax.” Dad quickly put his jacket and boots. Ace got up and got closer to me and my dad.

“It was nice to meet you as well Buggy, hopefully we get to meet some time again.” Ace said to my dad who was at the door. I was wrapped in a crushing hug by him, and he wasn’t letting me go.

“Oh, we are meeting again this is for sure.” Dad realised me from his grip and grabbed the door handle to open the door. Just before he closed it, he stopped and looked at me and Ace. “And don’t forget condoms, I’m too young to become a grandpa.” Before I could curse my father, he the shut the door closed and his loud laugher could be heard in the hallway of the building.

“I-I’m so, so s-sorry.” I turned back to Ace who had the same was holding his laughter. “He was kidding, and he is too much sometimes, like he is such a diva.” I raised my hands in the air as I passed by Ace to go and sit on the couch. He shook his head, and laugher left his lips.

“I think his advice was pretty good.” Ace smirked as he sat next to me, propping one hand on the back of the sofa. I leaned on his shoulder and tilted my head to have a better look at him.

“Ha-ha, you two should do a stand up together.” I said with a mocking tone.  

“Oh, someone is sassy tonight.” Ace lowered his head a bit which led to his face coming closer to mine.

“You just met the diva who raised me, is a little sass too much now?” I raised my brow and fluttered my eyelashes.

“You are never too much, doll.” He cupped my cheek with his free hand and caressed it. Even though my pulse has increased because of how intimate it felt to be this close to him, but at the same time it felt so right and natural. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way. My eyes drafted to his lips, his full and alluring lips. They curved in a little smile and moved. I moved my eyes back to his eyes and questionably hummed as I didn’t hear what he said. He smirked and whispered him my ear.

“As I recall we have a movie to watch.”

“Yes, right.” I breathed out and quickly got up from the couch. Clearing my throat, I looked around and saw my laptop laying on my bed. I sat on my bed and opened it. “Okay, found it. Come.” I patted my bed without realising how me inviting him to come and sit on my bed might come off as. I looked at him and tilted my head to the bed. “Ace, come.” He finally got up and crossed the room in just six steps and stood in front of my bed. I moved and positioned myself next to the wall as I leaned my body on the headboard. Ace did the same as me, but he kept some distance, and then it hit me.

“U-um if you feel m-more comfortable on the couch we can move there.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” He said and pointed with his chin towards the laptop to play the movie.

“Oh my, I forgot to ask you if you want something to drink?” I slapped my face and put the laptop on the side as I got up quickly.

“Water is fine.” He called after me. I filled up two glasses with water and while walking toward the bed I drank half of mine. Standing next to the bed I handed Ace his glass and he thanked me while taking a sip of it. We put the glasses on top of the nightstand next to the bed. I went to the edge of the bed and crawed on it, leaning on the headboard again. “Can I finally see the movie?” His eyelids slightly drooped as the corners of his mouth turned up. I hummed and grabbed the laptop pressing play. The movie was five minutes long, so it didn’t take much time to watched it. The moment it ended I turned my head to Ace all on pins and needles for his opinion on the movie. He slightly leaned closer to me and looked in my eyes. “That was cute. Not gonna lie, I was rooting for the guy to get the girl.”

“Really?” I smiled biting my lower lip. He nodded. “But did you like it?”

“Yea, as I said it was a cute movie.” He crossed his arms across his chest making his biceps flex a bit.

“But...? I can sense the ‘but’.” I poked his bicep with my finger. He chuckled and took a deep breath.

“Okay you got me. It was a cute short movie okay, but you could do way better than this.” He tilted his head a bit, taking a better look at my face. “But this doesn’t mean that the movie was bad, it means I know you can go way beyond this and kill it.” His voice was low but also soft. I put the laptop on the side and lowered my head.

“Ace... can... can I hug you?” I quietly asked not daring to look at him as my face was flaming hot. He opened his arms and pulled me in a hug. I buried my head in his muscular chest and took a deep breath inhaling the scent of his perfume. “Thank you.” I whispered and tightened my arms around him. He softly hummed in response. I looked up and I saw how he was fighting the fatigue which was mixture of his long day and narcolepsy. “Are you tired? You can stay here, and I can sleep on the couch.”

“No... yes actually I’m tired but I haven’t taken my pills in like four days as I ran out of them and it’s really hard to fight the sleep right now.” His right hand ran circles on my back while with his left he was rubbing his eyes with the back of it. As much as I didn’t want to, I pulled away from his arms but still stayed closer to his body.

“Did you finish the song?” My voice was soft as I tired to keep it low, he was obviously going to fall asleep any second now.

“Mhh, wanna heard it?” He shook his head as he tried to wake himself up. I nodded eagerly as he pulled his phone from this back pocket.

“What is it called?”

“A little death.” Ace handed me his phone and I pressed play. Focused on the song, I still saw how his head flopped on the side as sleep took over him and I couldn’t help but cooed to myself. To be honest I wasn’t sure if he was asleep or he had an episode but I let him be as I listened to the song.

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

I wondered who wrote the song. Knowing Ace I doubt it was him, he had told me he wasn’t into writing ‘romantic’ songs, so it was either Sabo or Law. The song finished and I heard Ace sleepy and raspy voice.

“Did you lik- fuck.” His eyes rolled back as sleep took over him again. I giggled, he was adorable and now I knew for sure that it wasn’t just fatigue from the long hours in the studio in the past few days, but he was in fact having little episodes. Ace jerked awake in a few seconds. “Yeah, so you liked it?” He tried to stand but I extended my had and stopped him.

“I can’t wait for you guys to realise it officially.” My lips curved into a smile. “Also sleep, you can’t drive like this.”

“No, I’ll go home just... just...” And another episode. I sighed no matter how stubborn he was his narcolepsy was taking over his body. His whole body jerked as he woke up again. “Just give me a minute or so okay.”

“Ace let me woman handle you.” I said teasingly with a light tone, and he rolled his eyes at me with a snort. “Now get up and get under the covers.”

“I can sleep on the couch.” He protested as he sat up on my bed, but I didn’t let him get up as I extended my hand and placed it on his chest.

“Ace, just get under the covers.” I said, shooting a pointed glance towards the bed.

“I’m with outside clothes.” He got up and crossed his arms, giving me a smart look.

“I need to wash my sheets anyway. Or just take your clothes off I won’t look.” I huffed, he was so stubborn.

“Yea, bet.” He raised his brow and took a step closer to me. With a smug smirk on his face, he took off his t-shirt tossing it on the bed. I was face to face with his hard muscular chest. My mouth ran dry as I draw in sharp breath and moved my eyes away from his body. The sudden urge to clench my thighs as I felt heat rushing to my core was painful. But I couldn’t move as I didn’t want to give myself away. “Hm, yeah... woman handling me.” He teased licking his lower lip. I cleared my dry throat and slowly looked at his face giving all my willpower not to trace my gaze down on his body.

“Stop flashing your titts around.” I hissed but my voice trembled. “You can’t be serious that you are leaving and driving at this state.”

“The episodes will go away soon, no need to worry.” He shrugged as he reached and ruffled the top of my head. I pushed his hand away and sighed annoyed. “Let’s just sit and talk until they go away.” Ace leaned closer to me which made me froze on my spot as the heat in my body haven’t left yet. But he did lean closer only to grab his t-shirt and put it back on. “Weren’t you the one insisting to get in bed? Go on.” He sat down on the bed and patted the side next to the wall for me to get on the bed and sit. I hopped on the bed quickly trying to ignore the wet patched that could feel formed on my underwear and leaned on the headboard. Pulling my legs closer to my body I couldn’t help but clenched my thighs. My eyes shut closed at the feeling it was too much, it was like a torture. My whole body was on fire and all he did was taking his shirt off. This wasn’t the first time I have seen him without one but this time it affected me differently. The lyrics of his new song stuck to my mind. ‘Touch me... just touch me...’ I was screaming inside my mind. As he could read my mind Ace placed his hand on my knee which made my body jerk away slightly as my eyes shot open. He had leaned on the headboard as well but this time he was closer to me. “You alright, doll?” His voice became deeper and raspier. I half nodded with a hummed. “You sure? You seem a little... breathless.” His mouth twitched and his dark brown eyes has gotten even darker. The hand that was placed on my knee slowly traced its way to the middle of my thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. If it wasn’t for the leggings I was wearing, probably my skin was going to be on fire. He knew. The look in his half-lidded eyes couldn’t fool me. I might be lightheaded right now because of my increased pulse and the ache between my thighs but Ace knew what he was doing. He was aware of the state he got me in, and he was enjoying it. “Say something, baby.” Baby? This was new, but the way he said it made it sound so sultry. I opened my mouth to say something, but he squeezed on my thigh once again which draw out a desperate whispered out of me. “What was that?” Tilted his head slightly acting as he didn’t hear what escaped my lips just seconds ago. I swallowed hard and licked my lips trying to think of something to say. Something to distract me from the fire within me.

“Why... why ‘A little death’?” I blurted out. My question was unexpected and while Ace pulled away from me a bit, his hand stayed on my thigh.

“It’s a translation from a French phrase.” His eyes shifted from mine as he turned his head slightly away. Now observing his side profile, it was even harder to read him.

“What is the phrase? What does it mean?” My voice came out as a whispered. A puff of air escaped his nose in a makeshift laugh.

“‘La petite mort’. It means post-orgasm sensation as likened to death.” His index finger was running small circles on my thigh, in a way I was experiencing my own little death.

“I didn’t know you speak French.”

“I don’t. But I know a thing or two.” He side glanced me with a smirk. With one last squeeze on my thigh, he suddenly got up from the bed straitened his back. “Okay, I’m going now.”

“No, stay.” I got on my knees on the bed and held on his hand. “I will sleep on the couch as I said, and you can ta-”

“(Y/N), no.” His tone was gentle but the look on his face was stern. Not only this but this time he turned to me with my name, something he barely ever did. “I’m going home and you are sleeping in your own bed.” I felt like a child who is being scolded by their parents. Lowering my head I let go of his hand and stood up from the bed. We walked to the entrance and didn’t say anything until Ace was at the door ready to leave as he put his boots and jacket on.

“Can you at least text me when you get home?” Leaning on the wall I didn’t dare to look at him. In a way I was exhausted of his sudden mood changes.

“Sure.” He replied as he opened the door. “Take care, doll.” Was the last thing he said to be before closing the door behind him.

Christmas came and went. Early in the morning today Shanks and I sent off my dad to the airport. The three weeks he had been here went by so fast, but it was so nice to be able to spend time with him again. We also got to meet Natasha over the holidays. She was so fun and nice. Having barely six years age difference between us we quickly found things we both like and we talked about going out together someday. Even after all the fun I had, Ace didn’t leave my mind for even a second. Since he was at my place last Sunday the only thing, we have texted each other was ‘Merry Christmas’ and it was me who reached out first. The burning sensation from Sunday night was still so fresh in my mind. Why did he tease me like that? Why didn’t he do anything when he was fully aware of the fact that I desired him, probably more than he did me. Was it because of our so called ‘friendship’? It’s not even a proper one so I doubt anything was going to change if we had lost ourselves in the moment. Or I was entirely wrong, and a lot was going to change if we had done something that night. Deep down I knew myself, he had already swept me off my feet, the fact that just seeing him shirtless got me all heated was enough to prove me that if something more was to happen in the past Sunday, maybe there was going to be a lot of regret after. Maybe Ace was right to stopped it before we both regrated it. Still nothing was changing the fact that I was into him, and this whole ‘friendship’ bullshit was killing me. At least if I knew if it was mutual ‘crush’ it would have been easier. If I knew that he only wanted to sleep with me maybe then I was going to take a step back and rethink if it was worthed, but no. I was out in the dark trying my best to read him and break his walls while every time I managed to break a single brick another thick wall was appearing.

It was around four pm when my phone rang. I put my book aside and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

“Ace?” I said answering.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?” He blurted out.

“Mm, no. I’m just chilling at home. Why?”

“Cool, I will pick up at eight.” He said and didn’t give me any time to ask anything or protest before he hang up. I moved the phone from my ear and just blankly stared at it. Of course, he had ignored me for days only to storm back like a hurricane. The worst part was that I somehow enjoyed this. As mush as he was confusing, irritating and so suffocating to be around sometimes, he was also my favourite company. Whit Ace, I could be myself and not feel judged or unsafe. He might have been an asshole many times, but he was also caring, protective, fun and quite gentle when he wanted to be. Ace was a bit of everything, and he always found a way to make me melt for him even when I was all mad and irritated with him. Shaking my head trying to come on my sense as I realised, I sounded as if I was in love with him or something. I had four hours until he picks me up, so I continued reading until almost six. Then I got up from bed and got ready. I had no idea where or what we were going to do so I put a safe outfit. Just a pair of jeans and a white off shoulder blouse. It didn’t take me much to do my makeup or hair, so I was done getting ready quite fast. Until I received a message from him that he was downstairs I was scrolling on my socials. Putting my boots and coat on I grabbed a small handbag before I left. Going down the stairs I realise that I had to suffer another ride on his motorbike, which as much as I would have enjoy holding him while he drove us to whatever we were going, the weather was adding to my fear. Taking a step outside instead of seeing Ace leaned on his bike as always, he was leaning on a car. Not like I had a big knowledge about cars, but it was a sport car for sure. He smiled at me when he saw me and opened the door for me once I stood in front of him. I thanked him and got inside the car. Once he got inside and started the engine I took a better look at him. He wore some dark jeans with some grey sweater on and his red beams necklace around his neck. For a first time ever his hair was kind of styled but still messy. This man didn’t know how to take proper care of his curls.

“I didn’t know you have a car.” I finally broke the silence as we stopped on a red light.

“I don’t. It’s Sabo’s.” He glanced at me and winked.

“Oh, this explains the colour then.” I said looking out of the window.

“What do you mean?” Ace chuckled, his eyes back on the road as the traffic light changed to green.

“I can’t imagine you driving a white car. It just doesn’t say... you, it doesn’t say Ace... you get what I mean?” A chuckle escaped my lips.

“And what colour you think will suit me, doll?” He side-eyed me for a second.

“Something black, and big maybe like a jeep or a truck.” I had no idea what I was talking about all I wanted was to avoid traveling in uncomfortable silence, since what had happened on Sunday.

“I like sport cars like this one. I even thought about getting the same one.” Ace said as he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

“Where are you taking me by the way?” I shifted a bit on the passenger seat readjusting the seatbelt.

“A friend of mine and their band are performing in a small bar tonight. I saw it earlier today on Instagram and I thought to myself why not, then I called you and you said yes.”

“I never said yes.” My head tilted in his direction, and I saw the way he tried to hold his smile but failed.

“Nah, you did.” Ace said confidently like he didn’t know better than me that he literally gave me no choice. I opened my mouth to say something, but he turned to look at me and we both shared a laugher.

“You are bad at pretending, you know?” I teased him.

“When I want to be.” He replied.

Maybe after thirty minutes we arrived at a part of the city where I haven’t been in so far. It was quite far away from where I lived but it was quite nice. All the streets, even the smallest alleyways were decorated if not with Christmas lights, then with some kind of fairy lights. Ace parked the car on a rather busy street. Before I got the chance to open the door, he had already opened it for. He even gave me his hand as I got out of the car.

“You know you can be quite the gentleman when you want to.” I nudged him on the side as we started to walk. An exhale of breath in a makeshift laughter escaped his lips.

“You said it, doll. When I want to.” He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and took out a cigarette lighting it.

“Isn’t smoking bad for your voice?” I didn’t get a verbal answer just a shake of his head. “Really?” I raised my brow as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“It is, but I not planning to quit them anytime soon.” He took another puff of his cigarette.

“You have a lot of bad habits.” I murmured with a smile.

“That’s my charm.” He came closer to me and wrapped his hand around my shoulder. Chills ran all over my body. He wasn’t even touching my skin, yet my body was ready to respond to him. What was going on with me? “We are here.” Ace threw his cigarette away and led me inside a... candy shop. “Trust me.” He let out chuckled as he held on to my hand and looked at me over his shoulder. We reached the end of the candy shop and there was a big door covered with different candy wrappers. Ace pulled the door open and there were stairs leading to a hidden bar. Music and chatter could be heard. “Come on, I’m here. You are safe.” He saw my hesitation and was quick to reassure me that I was going to be alright.

“Promise me you won’t leave me even for a second.” I gripped on his arm as anxiety started to build in me.

“I promise, doll.” His voice was gentle and sincere. I nodded with my head slightly without easing my grip around his hand, but he didn’t protest. The place wasn’t big and not very full. But it was only nine pm so maybe later there would be more people. For an underground bar the interior was very nice. The walls weren’t covered with any paint and were completely naked and it was all bricks. There were led lights on the ground colouring the walls with a golden glow making the place somehow cozy. Ace led me to the bar. Behind the bar counter the wall was divided with two arches which were covered with two big mirrors and all the alcohol they offered displayed on the shelves. “What do you want to drink?” Ace turned to me and moved a stand of my hair away from my face with his free hand.

“Just a coke zero, with a lot of ice, please.” I told him as my eyes were carefully observing the place. It wasn’t a shady place but so was the ‘Ska Stage’ yet my night there ended up in a hospital.

“Doll, I need to use both of my hands.” Ace said and I immediately let go of his hand. I apologised to him, but he brushed me off. He handed me the cola with a glass filled up with ice, while he held a bottle of non-alcoholic beer in his hand. Ace stood behind my back and pointed to a tall table where we could sit. We placed our drinks on the table and took off our jackets placing them on one of the chairs. Ace pulled his chair closer to mine and I was thankful of him and how mindful he was so far. I have relaxed for a bit but still I was a little nervous for later.

“What time is your friend performing?” I asked him while filling the glass with cola.

“Ten thirty if I remember correctly.” Ace took a sip of his beer.

“Have you been here before?” I took another look at the place. We sat between two column brick walls making the space around us a little private.

“Yes, I have. Me and the guys wanted to perform here at the beginning when we started but let’s say someone slept with the wrong person’s daughter.” He lowered his head as he tried to suppress his laugher.

“Oh my, Ace you are such a whore.” I said as my whole face cringed.

“Woah, woah, easy there. Who said it was me?” His brows raised in disbelief of my comment. “Believe it or not, but Deuce is not as innocent as he might look.” My mouth almost fell to the floor when he said this.

“No way it was Deuce.”

“I’m telling the truth.” He raised his hands in defence.

“I will ask Deuce about this.” I pointed my finger at Ace giving him a last chance to be honest.

“Damn, always the worst assumption about me, doll huh?” Ace shook his head, but the smile wasn’t leaving his face. “Okay, ask him, but I promise you, you will be apologising to me after.” He flicked me on the forehead. I pouted as he did so, and he just smirked.

“Do they play the same genre as you?” I was curious as I had never heard of the band performing tonight, but I supposed they were quite new.

“Nah, they are a pop band. I am a close friend with the vocalist, they are very good.”

“Better than you?” I teased him as I nudged his elbow with mine. Ace smirked as hummed left his lips.

“You could say this.”

“No, I don’t believe this.” I scrunched my nose and shook my head.

“Yea, stoke my ego, I love this.” Ace sarcastically said leaning closer to me. I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. My eyes caught something behind him, and I squinted to see better. Ace noticed and turned around to see what I was looking at.

“Are those there card games?” I asked and Ace hummed in response. “Do you wanna play?” I placed my hands on the table excitedly.

“Go grab whichever one you want.” He didn’t need to tell me twice as I jumped from the chair and went to look at the games. The one that caught my attention the most was called ‘answer or dare’ so I grabbed it and went back to Ace. I placed it on the table and with a little jumped I sat back on my chair. “What did you choose?” He took the game in his hand and observed it.

“So, you take a card from the black deck and there are four questions, and you choose which one to ask me and if I don’t want to answer I must do one of the dares from the red deck of cards.” I explained quickly as he started to pull the decks from the box. “Do you want to be first?”

“No, you can start.” He winked at me and took a sip of his beer. I nodded and reached to take a card from the black deck. The questions were either dirty or super boring, but I decided to start with something simple.

“Okay, this one: which is your celebrity crush?” I read the card and looked at him.

“I don’t have one.” His brows knitted as thought for a second but shook his head. “No, I really don’t have one.” Ace grabbed a card and smiled. He looked at me with a stone faced as he held the card hidden with his index and middle finger. “What’s the colour of your nipples?” He asked me with a overly sultry tone and I burst out laughing as I knew that there was no such question, but he was referring to a meme I had sent him a few weeks ago. He started laughing with me as I slapped him on the shoulder.

“You are awful.” I said in between laughter.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, doll. I will try to be serious.” He looked at the card between his fingers and read the question he set his mind on. “Did you have any nicknames growing up?” I was a little surprised that he set his mind on something boring and didn’t go straight to the spicy questions.

“Yes, I did, and it was given to me by Shanks and till this day he calls me by it.”

“And the nickname is...” Ace waved his hand to me to spit it out.

“Foxy...” I murmured as I looked away when I felt my cheeks heating.

“Wait, isn’t this also you Instagram name.” He poked me with his finger on the sides and I jumped on my spot with a yelp.

“Yes, this is where my name comes from.”

“Cute. Your turn.” Ace put his card aside and I took another. My eyes lit up as the card had the perfect question for him, something that always slipped my mind and I have wanted to ask him for a long time now.

“Tell the story behind the most embarrassing tattoo you have.” I giggled while reading the card. Ace groaned as he propped this head on the back of his hand. “I’ve actually been curious about this one for a long time now.” I said as he took a deep breath in before throwing his head up and biting on his lip.

“My one and only tattoo happened because I lost a bet against Sabo, and I don’t even remember what the bet was about anymore as it has been ten years now.” I propped my chin on my crossed fingers as I was all ears listening to his story. “Anyway, the loser was supposed to get a homemade tattoo whi-” I interrupted him immediately.

“What do you mean by homemade tattoo, is this even a thing?” My eyes widen, I was hundred percent sure there was no such thing as ‘homemade’ tattoo, this wasn’t some cake recipe.

“There is no such thing as a ‘homemade’ tattoo, but we called it that. Guess who the tattoo artist was?” He looked seriously at me waiting for my answer.

“S-Sabo?”

“I wish. It was Luffy.” He squeezed his eyes shut as I burst out laughing again.

“No, no, Ace, no.” I shook my head as I couldn’t stop laughing. Ace was just nodding his head as he bit on his lips.

“He was twelve, and apparently for twelve years he didn’t learn how to spell my name, which by the way I forgot to mention, I didn’t choose the tattoo, Sabo did.” Every time I thought this story couldn’t get worse Ace proved me wrong. “The misspelling isn’t the worst part, it got infected, and it was not only itchy but also painful. But yeah, after the infection went away, I went to a professional tattoo artist, and they covered Luffy’s messy handwriting so it can look better.” He lifted his shoulders once he was done with the story, and I cooed. I felt a little bad for him, it was a funny story, but he did suffer.

“Why didn’t you remove it?”

“It added more character to me.” He playfully raised his eyebrows and smirked. “My turn.” He said as he took a card from the deck. We continued with the game laughing and messing around. It was his turn again and he laughed mischievously as he read the card. “Oh doll, I think your first dare is coming.” He licked his lower lip as he looked at me. “What do you fantasize about when you... you know... show your body some love?” My face went blank when he read the question with a smug smile placed on his face.

“There is no way this is written on the card.” I snatched the card from his fingers because I was sure he was messing with me, but no. The questing was the real and way more uncensored than the way he asked me. I gave him the card back. “I’m not answering this.”

“I know.” He said and reached for a red card. His brows frowned as he read the dares on the card. “Okay, you choose between these two: sing your favourite song chorus or let me text whoever I choose from your contact list something.” I whined when I heard the dares, but there was no way I was singing in front of Ace, so I told him to take my phone from the pocket of my coat and text whoever he wants whatever as I also told him my password. His brows frowned for a second as he grabbed my phone but then he quickly typed something and put my phone back.

“Should I be worried what you texted?” I wasn’t worried at all to who he might have texted as much as what he might have texted.

“Nah, don’t worry, the person will know it’s from me.” He winked at me. We continued with the game before we got interrupted by someone tapping on Ace’s shoulder. Ace looked over his shoulder and his eyes lit up. “Izo! What’s up, bro?” He got up and bumped shoulders with the guy.

“Hey, Ace. Haven’t seen you in a while.” The tall dark-haired guy said. He turned to me and greeted me as well and I smiled at him.

“Oh, this is (Y/N).” Ace was quick to introduce me. Izo reached with his hand to shake mine as he introduced himself. “What’s brings you here?”

“My boyfriend is friend with one of the band members and we came to listen to them tonight.” He pointed with his thumb behind him where his boyfriend was. “Oh, Ace.” Izo excitedly exclaimed. “He was at your show in the ‘Ska Stage’ and he said you guys were phenomenal. Sadly, I had an emergency from work, and I couldn’t come, but he showed me some videos he took that night and you guys killed it.”

“Yea, even I was satisfied with this performance, so thank you man.” Ace boyishly laughed as he ran his hand through his hair. Someone called for Izo and he turned to see that his friends were calling for him.

“If you guys want to join us, please do.” His eyes shifted between Ace and me. Ace looked at me over his shoulder before he turned back to Izo.

“Some other time man.” Ace told him and Izo quickly got what was going on.

“No worries, guys. Still, you can join us at any time.” He waved us a quick goodbye before he went back to his boyfriend and friends. Ace sat back and smiled.

“You wanna continue with the game?” He asked me but I shook my head. I took a better look around us and noticed how the place was almost full. Until now I didn’t even realise it as I was too focused on the game and Ace. “I will go and get us some more drinks, do you want the same?”

“Yes, and a lot of ice. But... um..” My eyes shifted around, and Ace got the hint immediately.

“You will be able to see me the whole time and I will be looking towards your direction as well.” He reassured me as he placed his hand on my bare shoulder.

“No, this is okay, don’t worry... it’s just...” I felt really awkward as I didn’t know how to say it without sounding like a baby. “I need to go to the restroom.” I mumbled under my breath. Until I noticed how many people have come, I was alright but now my anxiety and Izo mentioning the ‘Ska Stage’ triggered something in me.

“Okay, let’s go first there and I will wait for you outside or do you want me to speak with some girl to come with you inside as well?” Not only his voice but even his eyes were soft and full of concern.

“Just you waiting outside is enough.” I replied. Ace nodded and wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I hopped off the chair and we walked to the toilets. He let go of me once we reached the women’s restroom and I got inside. Thankfully there was no queue, so I got inside fast. After I washed my hands, I checked myself in the mirror, everything was on its place even my hair. Ace was waiting for me outside the lady’s restroom as he promised. “Thank you.” I whispered once I stood in front of him. He gave me half a smile and we walked back to the table. Then he went to get us another round of non-alcoholic drinks, which I appreciated because it was nice to be outside and have fun time without alcohol. And so far, tonight I was enjoying myself, and by the looks of it so did Ace. While I was waiting for him to come back, I checked my phone. I had two messages – one from Luffy and one from Dave. The one from Luffy was just ‘Ace xDD’ so I guessed, Ace texted him when he had my phone, and the one from Dave was ‘What time should I pick you up tomorrow?’

“Tomorrow?” I said out loud to myself. It took me a moment to remember that we were going to see a movie. Quickly I responded to him that he can pick me up an hour or so before the screening.

“Hmm, texting the boyfriend?” I jumped on my seat as I didn’t notice that Ace was back. He put the drinks on the table, and I thanked him before I asked what he meant by this.

“What boyfriend?” I snored.

“David or whatever his name was.” Ace smirked before taking a sip of his beer, but the small eyeroll didn’t escape my sight.

“Dave.” I corrected him, as a little sound like laugher puff escaped my nose. “And he is my friend.”

“I’ve heard something else.” He side-eyed me. The smirk was still on his face but the smugness which usually came with it wasn’t present.

“Find a better source then.” I grumbled as I turned my head away from him and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Easy there, doll. Did I step on your tail or something?” His voice was teasing and mocking at the same time. Placing his hand on top of my crossed ones I only glanced at him.

“What have you heard and from who?” The irritation in my voice was more than clear.

“Usopp mentioned you are going on a date with him, so I thought something is going on between you two.” Ace removed his hand from mine and took another sip of his beer. “By the way you react something is obviously going on.” He murmured under his nose. My eyes widen from what I just heard.

“Wait, what? What date? How did Usopp knew about this?” The realisation slapped me like a wet mop in the face. “No, no, no. Fuck, no.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it was a date.” Ace said seriously and I just shook my head. He bit the insides of his cheeks as he tried to contain his laugher.

“It’s tomorrow and no I had no idea, he just said wanna go see the screening of ‘Interstellar’ and I said yes, because it’s one of my favourite movie.” Slapping myself wasn’t enough and Ace laughing wasn’t helping. “Ace it’s not funny. He is a very good guy, and I don’t want to lead him on.” I whined.

“Doll, how did you not get the hint?” He gave me a sincere look as he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Damn, even I feel bad for the guy now.”

“If I knew it was a date I would have never said yes.” I leaned my head on his hand and pouted. “I will text him to cancel.” Unlocking my phone determined to cancel the ‘date’, Ace snatched it from me. “Hey, give it back.” I protested instead he just put it in the back pocket of his pants. “Ace what are you doing? It’s not funny, give it back.”

“Don’t cancel. Go on the date.” Hearing this felt like someone was driving a nail into my heart with a hammer. The small smile placed on Ace’s face wasn’t helping. I did in fact not get hints, because tonight got my hopes up for a moment, but he couldn’t make it more clear than now – we were never going to be anything more than friends. “You never know you might have quite lot of fun. Give the guy a chance.” He winked at me and another nail was hammered into my foolish heard. Swallowing hard I placed a big fake smile on my face.

“He is my friend, Ace, I don’t want to hurt him by leading him on.” I moved my gaze away as I didn’t want to look into his eyes. “After all, playing with someone’s feeling is one of the worst things you can do to a person.” There was a lot of hidden meaning behind my words which I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to catch on it or not.

“Doll –“ He couldn’t finish his sentence as everyone started applauding. We looked at each other and Ace smiled. “I think they are starting. Come.” He held his hand for me to take and I did as I hopped of the chair. Making our way to the small stage Ace stood next to me with his hand around my shoulder, a very friendly gesture. There were quite lot of people around us and it was calming to have Ace keeping me close to him as it made me feel secure. I tried to shake away the pang of pain in my heart and enjoy the night. On the small podium were three people – three boys and a girl.

“Which one is your friend?” I slightly tilted my head towards Ace. He looked down at me and then at the stage pointing with his chin at the girl.

“Yamato – they are great.” I moved my eyes to the stage looking at them. They were tall and very fit. A big grin was placed on their face as they were greeting everyone. They were dressed in a super baggy light blue jeans and a Nirvana sleeveless top with their white hair with blue highlight up in a ponytail. The guys behind them were matching their outfit but in different shades of colour. The guy on the drums raised his hands in the air and counted with his drumsticks three times before they started playing. The melody filled up the space and everyone cheered.  

I'm trying to tell you I'm trying to know you I'm dying to show you Fighting to get you

Their voice was a lot softer than Ace’s but still they were as good as Ace clamed they were.

Soon as you got me You go and drop me It's cool when you burn me I love how you hurt me

Listening carefully to the lyrics I found it ironic. I was strongly relating to the feelings Yamato was singing about.

It's not what you said It's the way you say it It's not what you did It's the way you do it

I couldn’t help but look at Ace. He was enjoying himself, singing along, even tapping with his right foot to the rhythm of the music. Sick and tired of needing your affection I chose to be lonely than live without your attention

The more I was listening to the lyrics the more my heartbeat was increasing.

I scratch your sweet name Right into my skin You left me bleeding But I couldn't give in

The skin on my shoulders was burning with every squeeze, every little movement of his fingers and every time he would run his hand a little up and down along my arm. I wasn’t sure who to curse - myself for choosing an open shoulders blouse or Ace for having this effect on my body.

I swallowed the poison to get infected Give back my heart that your body rejected

I have lost count how many times Ace has started something only to rejected me, and I haven’t realised it or at least I didn’t want to admit to myself as I continued to believe that maybe... just maybe... something might happen between us. But he made it clear – friends. Nothing more, nothing less. After all he did tell me to go on a date with another guy just minutes ago.

I'm standing in the pain That's smothering me It's more becoming my own blood Why can't you see?

While he was lost in the song, I was lost in him. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. I wasn’t the best in faking what I was feeling. Why he couldn’t realise that this ‘friendship’ was not working. This friendship was doomed from the start.

That I'm starving for your love And I need attention Or I'm going to die

Nothing could have prepared me for what crossed my mind. ‘Why couldn’t have I fallen for Dave, instead I fell for you Ace?’ It was like someone splashed me with a bucket with ice cold water. Chills run all over my body when the thought crossed my mind. I had fallen for Ace. I took a step back from Ace, and he turned to look at me. He pulled me closer to him and leaned closer to me, almost pulling my entire body close to his.

“Is everything alright, baby?” He whispered in my ear but from standing so close to me and the music I couldn’t hear him. His breath tickling my skin making it having goosebumps all over. Breath caught in my lungs I tried collecting myself as fast as possible I placed both of my hands on his chest and locked my eyes with his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Are you okay?” He pulled me even closer and now my entire body was pressed to his as his hand fell from my shoulder to the middle of waist. I nodded my head and awkwardly chuckled.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” He raised his eyebrow doubtfully. Raising on my tiptoes I whispered to him. “Your friend is great.” Pulling back from him still bodies locked he smiled at me.

“I told you.” Ace said removing his hand from my waist and taking a step back. “Wait to hear the rest of their songs.” And he was right. The band was great. The realisation, the feelings they were here, and they weren’t going to fade away anytime soon, so instead of worrying about it now, I decided to just savour the moment with Ace. Everyone was dancing and singing, even me and Ace. Finishing the song everyone applauded, and Yamato spoke on the microphone.

“A special shout out to one of my most dear friends – Ace, who I spot in the crowd. The next song is a special one, as he helped me writing it. So, for you Ace and the pretty girl next to you.” They happily exclaimed on the mic and winked at us with a big smile on their face. Ace’s boyish laughter left his lips as Yamato dedicated the song to us. I bounced on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me so he could hear me better as the song started.

“Did you help writing the whole song?” My eyes filled up with excitement as I was always looking forward for the songs he had written as I knew that when he writes he means and feels it.

“Nah, only the chorus. They are giving me too much credit.” He replied as he turned me around and stood behind me with his hands on my waist. Even though we were dancing until now we didn’t cross any lines, but with his hands on my waist all the thoughts I put aside, run back to my mind and my whole body went numb.

I'm gonna get hurt I'm gonna get hurt

The song was quite heartbreaking if you ignore the quick pop-electro tempo, and you were listening to the lyrics.

Keep playin' my heartstrings faster and faster You can be just what I want, my true disaster

Ace was singing along the chorus with them while his hands didn’t leave my waist for even a second. I leaned my body on his while we were swaying to the rhythm, placing my hands on top of his as he wrapped them around me. ‘Just savour the moment’ was a constant thought in my mind tonight. Sometimes in life what we want and what we get were not always the same thing. I couldn’t blame Ace for the way I felt towards him as he had warned me from the beginning – just friends. Lost in thought I didn’t realise the song had finished and so did the performance until I heard loud applauses around me. Ace pulled away and nodded me to follow him. He led me towards where his friend was as he held me by the hand. His big, yet soft hand felt so good wrapped around my fingers.

“Yamato.” He called out loud. They turned around and their eyes lit up at the sight of Ace.

“Ace.” They screamed and run towards him wrapping their arms around him. Ace returned the hug with one hand only as he wasn’t letting go of mine. “I haven’t seen you in almost two months man, where the hell have you been?” Yamato pulled away and grabbed Ace by the shoulders shaking him. Ace laughed in response as he let go of my hand and then placed it again around my shoulders.

“I’ve been busy with the band, you know how it is.” He chuckled raising his shoulders in a half shrug. “This is (Y/N), by the way.” He introduced me and Yamato’s eyes quickly shifted to me as a big smile spread across their face.

“Nice to finally put a face to the name. I’m Yamato.” They reached for a handshake. Up this close they were slightly taller than Ace and they didn’t even wear heels. I took their hand with a smile and shook it. Also, did they just said, ‘put a face to the name’? Has Ace mentioned me? No, no way he had. They probably meant to say, ‘a name to the face’.

“Nice to meet you, Yamato. Your band is great. And I’m in love the first song you sang, I’m adding it to my playlist.” I returned the big smile.

“Thank you, Ace hates it.” They crossed their arms in front of their chest and stuck their nose in the air, winking at me.

“Don’t listen to them, I love the song.” He said as he rolled his eyes. “You killed it tonight.” Ace fist bumped them on the shoulder and Yamato returned it but instead on the shoulder they hit him on the stomach. I felt and saw how Ace’s muscles tense as Yamato wasn’t being light with their punches.

“We used to go kickboxing together, he is fine don’t worry.” Yamato turned to me as they noticed my reaction to their strange encounter. Their bandmates called out for them and Yamato groan. “Are you leaving immediately? We can grab a drink or two.” Their smile widened and eyes filled with a sparkle. Yamato was full of energy like they had just woken up. Ace looked at me asking me with his eyes if I wanted to stay longer or not.

“It’s up to you.” I gave him a small smile.

“We aren’t in a hurry.” He said as he winked at me.

Walking back to the car, Ace and I were laughing loudly. I almost tripped which caused him to get a hold of me and balance me back, which lead to more giggles. We had stayed until the bar closed, talking and laughing with Yamato and their bandmates. Them and Ace had been friends for almost five years now and both had found themselves in quite questionable situations.

“Shh, quiet we might wake people up.” I said in between giggles trying to catch my breath from all the laughter. Ace glanced at me and mischievous grin appeared on his face.

“Help, someone, help sh-” He screamed on top of his lungs, but I was quick to cover his mouth with my hands.

“Ace.” I hissed with laugher and looked up to see if we had woken up someone. It was almost three am and even though we haven’t drunk any alcohol it felt like we were drunk. The whole laughing uncontrollably situation started as we went out of the bar and some guy fell in the candy shop knocking two shelves of candies with him. Thinking about it now didn’t seem so funny but five minutes ago seemed like the funniest thing on earth. Ace murmured something in my hand bringing my attention back to him. “What?” Instead of an answer I received a little bite but sharp bite on my palm. “Ouch, are you a vampire or something?” I pulled my hand back and a little bite mark was left on the inside of it.

“I barely bit you.” He took my hand and observed the mark. “You will live, doll.” Winking at me he pulled out the keys for the car from his jacket and opened the car. Ace opened the door for me and I thanked him as I got inside the car. Closing the door and going to the driver’s side once he sat down and shut the door, we looked at each other and laughter burst out again. Ace took a deep breath and started the car. He turned to me and stared at my eyes for a moment.

“What is there something on my face?” I joked as I noticed the way he observed me. Eyes half lidded with a little half smirk on his eyes.

“Nah, your face is flawless as always, doll.” My heart skipped a beat, from all the laughter his voice sounded a little raspier, but adding to the sound of his voice what he said to me add to the blush on my face. Rasing my eyebrow at him questionably he looked at the road and then back to me. “Are you in hurry to go home, after all tomorrow you are going to be busy.” His tone was cocky and mocking but his eyes weren’t. There was something in them that I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but it wasn’t mockery or teasing. Rolling my eyes knowing what he implied by me being ‘busy’ tomorrow I shook my head. “Would you let me take you somewhere with quite nice view at this hour?” And the smugness in his voice and eyes was back.

“Why aren’t you already driving us there is the question.” I teased him. Ace snorted a laugher and started the car. He offered me his phone to play whatever music I wanted but I choose to go through the radio channels instead. Twenty minutes into the drive, I was still changing the radio every thirty seconds. Ace glanced at me for a second before returning his eyes to the road.

“Doesn’t anything suit your music taste?” He asked with a chuckled.

“No, I just don’t know what I want to listen to.” I whined changing yet again the stations. Ace sighed and just shook his head. “What?” Glancing at him he just smiled and slightly shrugged.

“It’s not like I didn’t offer you my phone to play something...” He murmured under his breath. I lightly slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand, receiving a huffed laughter from him. Looking out of the window for a moment, I noticed that we were in the outside skirt of the city.

“Where are we going?” I turned to Ace who was focused on the road, which had a lot of curves and trees surrounding it.

“You will see.” He replied. I took a good look of his face – he had a little playful smile on it, which meant that he had something in mind. Pressing the screen again to change to another radio channel I heard familiar melody. I smiled as I recognised the song and leaned on my seat.

She said, "Hello, mister, pleased to meet ya" I wanna hold her, I wanna kiss her

I heard Ace chuckled as he also recognised the song. He increased the volume and started tapping on the steering wheel with his fingers.

She'd drive me crazy, she'd drive me crazy

We both stared humming the song.

Gonna take her for a ride on a big jet plane

I glanced at Ace. His eyes were on the road, but his mind was somewhere else. I couldn’t help but smile as he started to sing quietly as he was lost in his own thoughts.

Be my lover, my lady river Can I take ya, take ya higher?

His voice was so different when he sang – the usual raspiness couldn’t be heard at all, instead it was so smooth and alluring. Closing my eyes and relaxing on the seat, all enchanted by his voice. I was quietly murmuring to myself the lyrics. My favourite part of the song was about to come by my breath hitched. My eyes shoot open when I felt Ace’s hand on my thigh close to my knee. He squeezed it gently as he sang along with the song.

Gonna hold ya, gonna kiss ya in my arms Gonna take ya away from harm

His eyes didn’t move even for a second from the road, but the way his muscles trembled and the way the expression on his face hardened didn’t escaped my sight. ‘What’s going on in your mind Ace?’ It felt like the most natural thing in the world to just reached out and run my fingers on the nape of his neck. I felt him tensed and relax at the same time. He side glanced me and gave me a half smile, which didn’t reach the corner of his eyes. There was no trace of his charming or smugness in it, there was only bitterness in it. Taking his hand away from my thigh he placed it on top of mine and gently squeezed it as he removed it from his nape and placed it on my knee. The pang I felt in my chest was agonizing. With two hands back on the wheel the car felt in silence even with the music on the background. And he switched again... Lowering my head I stared at my fingers as I nervously played with them in my lap. I wanted to slap myself. Why did I do this? Why couldn’t I stop myself instead of ruining everything. ‘Good job (Y/N), good job.’ Cursing myself wasn’t enough. At this point I should have learned that him displaying any physical intimacy with me meant nothing, as Nami had said – Ace was a big flirt. Maybe he didn’t even realise it or if he did, he meant it in a different way, whatever this way might have been.

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt the car stopped moving. Ace cleared his throat making me glanced at him from under my lashes. He had taken his seatbelt off and turned his body slightly towards me with one arm resting on the steering wheel. Pointing to me with his eyes to the windshield. I followed his gaze and gasped. We were on a very high hill on the side of the road. From here half of the Grand Line city could be seen. Not only the city lights, but the sky was so clear tonight making the moon and the starts shined bright. While we were surrounded by the tall trees from the forest. I was in an awe. It was beautiful.

“How did you find this place?” My voice came out as a whispered.

“By chance.” Ace replied, voice deep but not loud. “I know you don’t smoke but wanna come outside with me for one quick cig?” Tearing my eyes away from the view I half nodded. We went out of the car and propped on the front of it, keeping a distance between each other. It has gotten colder than it was before but the fact that we were this high was adding to the coldness. Wrapping my arms around myself and tightening the coat around me, I didn’t do it only to protect myself from the cold air but the cutting silence, too. Ace lighted up his cigarette and took a long puff from it.

“Shit, I forgot to give you this back.” He said as he pulled my phone from his back pocket. I took it from him and saw that I had a message from Dave but choose to ignore it and answer it later. The silence was killing me so taking a deep breath and chuckled awkwardly. Ace blowed the cigarette smoke away and glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

“You know what this reminds me of?” I asked gesturing with my hands to the view in front of us. He shook his head and waited for my response. “Have you seen ‘La La Land’?” I didn’t dare to look at him so I kept my eyes on the view but still could see a little bit of him with my peripheral vision. Ace hummed.

“Yea, and?” He took another drag.

“Well, you know the hill where they were going all the time, this place here gives me the same vibes.” I chattered. Taking a better look at the view in front of us Ace let out a chuckle.

“You know, I can actually see it. You are right.” He took one last puff of the cigarette and threw it on the ground and stomped it. Silence took over once again. The city lights were flickering, and we were surrounded by tall trees and small bushes. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed in silence until something moved in the bush in front of us. Scream left my lip as I instinctively jumped to Ace for protection. He was quick to straiten his position and caught me in his arms as I squeezed my eyes shut burying my face is his chest. Soft boyish laughter escaped his lips.

“Don’t laugh what if it’s a snake.” I squealed jumping on one foot to the other.

“Calm down and turn around, doll.” He chuckled and turned my body around. Hearing a quiet ‘meow’ I opened my eyes and cooed. It was a little stray orange kitten. Slowly but steady it made its way to us, or I should say its way to Ace. The moment it reached Ace, it started rubbing itself on his leg. Ace giggled and squatted down immediately to pet the kitty. “Hey, there. Aren’t you beautiful?” It was like the kitty knew what Ace was telling it and stared meowing. “Yes, yes you are pretty.” I crouched next to him to take a better look at the kitty but also pet it.

“It’s a she.” I said as the kitty had its tail up in the air. “She is quite found of you.” I chuckled as the kitty was purring from his touch.

“What can I say I have this effect on the kittens.” Ace turned to me with a wink. I rolled my eyes at his lame line.

“Cringe” I said yet couldn’t deny him this, he was right.

“You are probably hungry, aren’t you princess? What are you doing here all alone?” The kitty turned on its belly and Ace started tickling her. This was so cute my heart couldn’t take it. “I’m sorry I don’t have any food with me. No, no she doesn’t have as well.” A giggle escaped my lips as it was just so adorable watching him speaking to the kitty with his softest voice like it could understand him. I stood and pulled my phone and took a quick video of their interaction. “Hey, no paparazzi.” Ace turned to the camera with a big grin on his face as he continued playing with the kitten. “No, princess I can’t take you home.” He said to the kitten as it was back on its paws. It meowed at him pleadingly. “I know, I know. But I can come tomorrow and bring you some food, you will be here, right?” The kitty meowed once more, and Ace petted it one last time before it went away. He got back on his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“This was adorable.” I cooed as I leaned closer to him. He looked at me and smirked.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that cats love me. Literally if there is a cat around it always comes to me and ignores everyone else.” The big smile on his face was like of a kid who just win the biggest toy from the scammer carnival games. “I’m like a magnate for them.” He nudged me with his elbow, and I clicked with my tongue nudging him back. I wasn’t sure how or when somewhere between Ace starting to tickle me and me trying to fight him, I got pinned on top of the front of the car. Hovering over me Ace smirked.

“You know you can’t beat me on playing fight, right?” He let go of my arms and I slowly rose propping on the car while Ace stood in front of me.

“This doesn’t mean that I can’t try.” I teased as I tried to sneak attack him by poking his belly, but he was fast to catch my wrist before I could do it.

“Nice try, doll.” He leaned closer to me. I smirked back and stood up lifting my head to have a better look at him. I was so lost in our little banter that I didn’t realise straight away how close we were to each other. Thanks to the reflection of the lights coming from the city below us I was able to observe his face as much as the light allowed me. I was so used to his freckles that sometimes I forgot how adorable they made him look. The way they were covering mostly the top of his cheeks and a little bit of his nose. And those dark brown eyes, which were staring back at me, I could get lost in them for hours. As much as I tried to fight the building desire in me my eyes trailed down to his lips – his full, perfectly shaped lips. Licking my lips I swallowed hard. This close I could feel his hot breath that was causing goosebumps all over my body. With all my willpower I tore apart my eyes from his lips back to his eyes. But his eyes weren’t on me, they were on my lips. My breath got caught in my lungs as his eyes shoot back to mine. ‘Kiss me.’ I was screaming inside my head. ‘Kiss me. Touch me.’ I was burning, I wanted to scream at him on the top of my lungs. ‘Take me right here and right now.’ He wasn’t stupid, I knew Ace could feel it too, the desire, the burning, the increased pulse – the pleading in my eyes.

“Don’t look at me like this.” He said, his face was hard like a stone and unreadable. His tone was cold and pleading at the same time. Even his eyes – there was something I have never seen in them before, but I couldn’t read what it was.

“Look at you how?” I couldn’t find my voice as my mind was running wild.

“Don’t play dumb, doll. It doesn’t suit you.” His head turned to the side as he looked at the sky.

“I’m not playing dumb, Ace. Look at you how exactly?” I could feel the pulse and the blood rushing through all over my body. Instead of responding he took a step back and went to open the passenger door of the car.

“Let’s call it a night, plus it’s cold.” He held the door open and didn’t even bother to look at me, while his tone was stern and cold. I licked my lips and nodded slowly. Of course, the same old repeating cycle. I slowly walked to the opened door of the car and stood in front of him.

“How did I look at you, Ace?” I didn’t want to fight with him, so I kept my voice smooth and calm. Turning his head away from me again, I grabbed his jaw gently and made him face me. He snatched his face from my hand immediately. “Answer me.” I knew how I looked at him, I knew what I wanted, and I still did, but I wanted him to say it and to give me an answer to why it was a problem. After all... this friendship was doomed from the beginning and after tonight maybe there wasn’t going to be anything left from it.

“(Y/N) get in the car, before you make me do something I would regret later..." He exhaled deeply. "Please...” I got in the car, and he closed the door.

The drive to my place was long... too long. The entire time we didn’t said anything to each other. If I knew that this night would have ended like this, I would have never gone out. The whole car ride I was fighting with the tears in my eyes. I couldn’t sort a single thought of mine and I didn’t want to deal with it right now. All I wanted was to get home.

My street came to the view, and I unbuttoned the seatbelt before he even stopped the car in front of my place. The moment he stopped the car I jumped out of it without saying a word to Ace, and ran as fast as I could to my building entrance slamming the door shut after me the same way he slammed my heart to the ground tonight.

END NOTE: Damn… what a roller coaster, right? I hope you got enjoyed it and had fun with their little conversations and moments as much as I did while writing it. This chapter was supposed to be even longer but I decided to leave the bitter feeling for the next one hihihi ♡

As always feel free to comment, like, reblog as your opinion matters for me ♡ Big shout out to my biggest and loud supporters @3rtxaa @orange-milky @lilink @worstgenerationloser @yourfavarii @chimjii (I’m so sorry if I’m forgetting to tag someone please I appreciate and see every one of you and I send you all the love and hugs in the world 🥹🫶) THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING AND SUPPORTING THIS STORY. I’m not sure it it was going to get far without you.

writing, format & dividers © cinnamoonblue fanart @a_phu14 on IG ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[butchhamlet]

do you have any good shakespeare retelling book recs?

what a beautiful time to ask this, says guy who has left this ask collecting cobwebs in his inbox for months! because guess who has two thumbs and just finished queen goneril by erin shields! WHAT a fucking play, holy SHIT, this is some of the best characterization of the lear sisters that i've ever read and the exploration of womanhood as filtered through class + race + shitty families + political maneuvering is so so so good. also the things shields does with the og playtext... chef's fucking KISS

anyway, recency bias aside, i've been meaning to make a post about my favorite shakespeare retellings for a while, and i think i never actually did it because i wanted to make a lear retelling ranking list and then i never read some of the ones on my TBR. so whatever. the learlist will happen someday. here are my favorites in general. (here is my goodreads shelf for the retellings i've read, good and bad, and here is the shelf for the ones i have yet to read.)

in no particular order:

a thousand acres by jane smiley: outsold. epitome of what makes an effective retelling--a book that clearly has something to say about and to the original text, but that also isn't afraid to diverge, to exclude here and zoom in there. ungraciously, this is "lear on a farm" and it starts a little slow, but holy fucking shit, i can't do justice in a paragraph to the way this book unraveled me. one of the best books of all time mayhaps. also, introduced the edmund character by describing his ass. 10/10

the last true poets of the sea by julia drake: i don't read that much YA anymore but jesus fucking christ. books tailored for me specifically. twelfth night retelling about siblings + mental illness + being bisexual + love triangles that actually make sense (emotions are confusing!) instead of being contrived + beautiful description + excellent dialogue + THE MENTAL ILLNESS. books that made me start crying in zoom class in 2020

rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead by tom stoppard: kind of a cop-out answer because we all know this one. but that does not detract from how good it is. this is one of those plays, at least for me, that makes me think, "ohhhhhh, THIS is what theater can do. this is using its medium to the absolute utmost." it is so clever and it makes me want to cry. i think about "i don't know. it's the same sky" more often than i can say

american moor by keith hamilton cobb: not exactly a retelling, but a one-man play about a Black man auditioning for the lead role in Othello, tangling as he does with his relationship with shakespeare's work and cultural dominance. suuuuuch a good fucking play even beyond the analysis of othello (which is excellent); the language is so fucking incredible. everyone who likes shakespeare should read this.

teenage dick by mike lew: modern teenage richard iii; this one's more reimagining than retelling, because it diverges pretty sharply from the plot of richard iii, but god, it's so fucking fun. and upsetting! really upsetting also.

foul is fair by hannah capin: i will be so real. i read this in high school and some of the YA books i've revisited since did not hold up for me. so idk if i can tell you this is "good" with my full chest. but the pitch is "lady macbeth gets sexually assaulted at a party and decides to fucking kill the boys who did it" and i stayed up until like 1am to finish it because it was such a vicious gleaming wild ride

the stars undying by emery robin: does this count? hard to say, because it's just as much a retelling of roman history than shakespeare's antony and cleopatra (honestly, more, since it focuses on the era where caesar and cleopatra were lovers, which is before shakespeare's play). but i'm counting it anyway because it's bisexual space opera cleopatra and it's the best book i've read so far in 2024 and it's making me crazy and i'm writing a thesis on it < genuinely

peerless by jihae park: macbeth, but college applications, featuring asian macbeths (they're twin sisters >:3) who think their classmate has taken their place in their dream school because of affirmative action/DEI. this play is absolutely VICIOUS. it's macbeth x heathers. think it mirrors macbeth in faltering a little in its final stretch, but it still fucks hard

the wednesday wars by gary d. schmidt: okay, not a retelling; this is about a preteen boy in the 60s. but it's one of the best most genuine and heartwarming books i've ever read and it manages to be hilarious while also foregoing cheap slapstick punching-low humor for a hell of a lot of warmth and passion. and the main character interacts with shakespeare a lot as a running theme so i can justify putting it on this list. #evangelizing

of course, i would be remiss not to mention that @suits-of-woe / @mjulianwrites has written the best take on Two Gentlemen of Verona to ever exist, and i mean that quite seriously. unfortunately it hasn't been published yet so we'll all just have to prayer-circle about it. i would also be remiss not to take the opportunity to. uh. coughs. do a bit of casual self-promo. if you 1. have ocd 2. have gender or 3. think about malvolio a lot. boy do i have the novella for you

will definitely add to this when i read more retellings; feel free to drop recs in the tags/replies/reblogs/my askbox!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @stobinmonth and @corrodedcoffinfest.

We've Been Over This

Stobin Month Prompt: Prom & CCF Spring Break Prompt: "I've got two words for you. Spring. Break." | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | POV: Steve | Pairing: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie, Robin Pining for Vickie | CW: Mention of Temporary Character Death, Brief Vamp Biting/Feeding, Mild Sexual Content, Language | Tags: Post S4, Hawkins Sticking Its Head In The Sand, Vampire Eddie, Dinguses x 3

"Vickie's taking her boyfriend to Enzo's for the alternative prom thing," Robin says. "I can't believe we're even having prom."

"What? Why?" Steve asks.

"I've got two words for you: Spring. Break," then she rolls her eyes, "The town's still falling into itself, or haven't they noticed?"

"Yeah, but they don't know what really happened. They want to get dressed up and fuck in motel rooms. You know. High school."

"That's not everybody's high school experience, believe me," Robin says, then thunks her forehead to the table, mumbling, "I can't believe I actually want to go."

Steve's ears perk up at that, "You, Robin Buckley, want to go to the prom?"

"Shut up," she says, "Like, I'm not. Obviously. But I could, like, see her in a pretty dress."

"And you'd be wearing a dress? Borrowed from Nancy?"

"Absolutely not, you saw what she made me wear last time."

Steve smiles, "You should go. Eat. Look at Vickie."

"I'm not going to the prom alone, dingus. I'm a loser, but I'm not that big of one."

"I'll take you," Steve says, easily. Like, he can do that. He's not scared of prom. 

"We're not going to prom. We have other things to worry about," she says. "Dustin is adamant Eddie's a vampire."

"Eddie's not a vampire. Eddie's dead."

"Tell Dustin that."

"Henderson's trying to cope, leave him alone."

"Well, Gareth thinks so, too," Robin says. 

"Who's Gareth?" Steve asks. 

Robin rolls her eyes, "Curly hair, bit of a yapper."

"That's Henderson."

"That's also Gareth," Robin says. "He's in Eddie's band. Corroded Coffin. The drummer."

"Oh. Him," Steve says dryly. He doesn't care for that kid. Every time he's approached Steve, he's been all arrogant, and Steve wants nothing to do with it.

Eddie died, and Steve feels like that's his fault. He doesn't need some kid he doesn't know disappointed in him.

He feels that enough with Henderson, thanks.

"I'll take you to prom. Get a dress. Or slacks. Whatever," he declares, and as far as he's concerned, that's that.

Prom over, Steve's taking off his rented tux while Robin changes in the bathroom, when he catches movement outside his window. He whips towards it, expecting nothing. He's used to jumping at his own shadow. 

Instead, there are feet. Floating feet, near the top of his window. Black boots, untied laces.

He's imagining things. Boots don't float. 

Still, he reaches for his nailbat. He was hoping he wouldn't need this so soon, or ever, again.

He looks upwards, seeing the ripped jeans, the bullet belt. He taps on the glass.

Eddie floats down.

"Uh, hi, I thought I was hidden," he says, bobbing there.

"Like a baby playing peek-a-boo? I could see your feet."

"Shut up. I'm just saying hi."

"You're floating," Steve says, as if that's not obvious, following his every move. It seems rhythmic.

"Yeah, I can do that now," Eddie says, muffled through the glass.

Steve pulls up the window, even if it's a bad idea. Eddie doesn't move.

"You'll have to invite me in," Eddie says, "if you aren't scared."

"I'm not scared," Steve says. He's terrified, but it also seems like Eddie. He's never claimed to make good decisions.

"Henderson said you were a vampire."

"Yeah, Gareth told me," Eddie says. "Not sure how he figured it out. I've been laying low."

"Yeah, hovering outside my window is really laying low. Get in here, asshole."

And just like that, Eddie grabs a hold of the frame, and pulls himself inside. 

"Are you gonna kill me?" Steve asks.

"Wasn't planning on it," Eddie answers, flopping on Steve's bed, crossing his feet at the ankles. He's filthy. "Why so fancy?"

Steve pulls the necktie loose, "Robin's prom."

"You're dating Buckley? What happened to Wheeler?"

"I'm not dating either of them," Steve answers. He's not explaining their fake date to a fake prom.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Eddie makes a noise, a guttural growl, and Steve slowly turns around, "I thought you said you weren't gonna kill me."

"I'm not," Eddie answers, but his eyes are blown wide, and have slipped from deep brown to yellow, his face changing.

"Eddie," Steve stresses, "your face says otherwise."

Eddie holds up his hands, and swallows, "I can hear your blood pumping. Can see your big, sexy neck veins pulsing."

Steve laughs, tossing back his head, and that makes Eddie groan louder.

"Harrington, you're killing me. This's like a second puberty. And I'm starving, while you're just laying out a buffet."

Oh.

Steve stops laughing.

"Do you…do you want to bite me?"

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands.

"I can still see you. We've been over this."

"I'm not gonna bite you," Eddie says, and now he has a lisp because of the fangs. It's not scary, it's funny, and Steve isn't sure why. He's something that crawled out of the depths of hell, just like a demodog, changed, mutated, but…it's Eddie.

He's pretty sure it's still Eddie.

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you wanted to bite me."

"Are you offering?" 

"Maybe."

Steve sits next to him, baring his throat, "Don't kill me." 

Eddie sinks his fangs in at the same time Robin opens the door, and screams bloody murder. 

Steve yanks away. He'd forgotten she was here. Now his neck's bleeding, and Eddie's scrambling.

"Sorry!" he lisps.

"Eddie IS a vampire!" Robin yells, and reaches for something, anything, coming up with Steve's lamp. It's still plugged in, but Steve is more worried about his bleeding neck. "You enthralled him!"

"I didn't mean to!" Eddie says, hands up.

"My neck," Steve says, and Robin and Eddie both move at once. Robin's yanked back by the cord, so Eddie gets there first. Peeling back Steve's hand. 

Tongue pressing to the wounds, fangs sliding back in, and Steve tilts his head back, dick going hard in his slacks.

Oh.

That's new.

He closes his eyes, ignoring Robin's unasked for two cents:

"Oh, that's just gross."

Steve definitely disagrees.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

For more Stobin, pop on over to @stobinmonth to follow along with the fun!

Notes: The floating outside the window is definitely inspired by the 1992 Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie. I loved it as a kid. Campy fun. "Oooh, aahhhh. Owww. Oooh." I feel like Eddie the Vamp would also be that kind of drama llama, for sure, lol.

[glutominnn]

Y'all ever thought about how Sydney change from being this innocent sweet church boy who don't even know what sex is, to an insatiable sex-crazed maniac who also constantly reminds you that you did this (whatever this is, depends on you) and pretty much gaslights that you have it coming to you.

The first time i played the game and corrupted him, I was flabbergasted by his sudden change in behaviors, although the player, us, is fully aware of our choices, the PC however, might not (again, depends).

The reasons why I find myself liking Sydney corrupted version isn't even about his constant craving for carnal pleasure and his openness about sexuality, but more like, I adore how even called "Corrupted", Sydney is very much still have conscience and a sense of rightessness in him, even showing worries for Whitney or Robin if they haven't show up at school. Pure!Sydney also have this, but the difference is, if Pure!Sydney is just gonna give you a pat on the back and tell you to hang on, Corrupted!Sydney will physically want to seek out the person who harmed you.

It's just make the whole Prayer room scene even more traumatic for PC, who would have thought Sydney, who is even no longer an innocent boy still normally very calm and level-headed, would physically beat you into submission if you don't let him have his way.

It's just... kinda felt like betrayal ya know? How he always tells you that you made him who he is, like he have every rights to do this, to have this like you OWNED him, a price to pay for the things you did (doesn't matter intentionally or not) to him. After all, he loved you, yes, but also I feel like living in a town like that have twisted his mindset and how he perceive if someone should take responsibility for his own sexual awakening, consented or not. It's just, really another level of fucked up when you think about it, but also expected since it's been clear you can never really have a completely normal and healthy relationship with any of the LIs in this game lmao