#and that cliff hanger????/)//)

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet

-> part two

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[shorthaltsjester]

watching the sdcc panel and i am just very :) about how sweet their answers to “what are some of the micro moments from the game that have stuck with you the most over the years?” are. taliesin saying what the fuck is up with that which was the first like The Party Gets To Know Each Other moments of c3. travis saying asking his wife if he could kiss her in campaign. marisha going way back to the cannonball competition in campaign one. ashley choosing the beauyasha date but also just the silly goat noise matt made. liam adding onto that to compliment matt roleplaying grass so well and then saying his favourite moment was writing a story for laura and reading it to her as caleb for jester. and then matt saying that was his answer, and that his favourite moments of the game are when they find ways to give gifts to each other whether tangible or not. and sam saying his favourite moments have less to do with the story and is more so when he can just. see his friends across the table from him. when marisha perches and when laura and ashley are (badly) drawing dicks and liam saying he loves when sam sneezes and ashley tells him to stop it and just. yeah. they Are an extremely popular online powerhouse, but i’m so happy that they’re also friends building a world together out of gifts to and love for one another.

like i Am so enamoured with the characters and the world of exandria but the moments when you can feel the love that those people have for each other reach out from behind the stained glass of their performances (to steal a metaphor from brennan lee mulligan) are so extremely special and i am endlessly grateful that they decided to share their silly little home game with the world.

[motherismotheringggg]

SLOW BURN pt. 2

read part one here!!!

im SO sorry it took me 84739293929 years for part two, i had the worst brain fog but she’s here — enjoy pookies <3

type: female reader x cooper koch x nicholas chavez

tags/warning: 18+, NSFW, smut, kissing, oral (f! receiving), hand job (m! receiving) — i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed anything!!

word count: 2090 (significantly shorter than the first one)

@kiwisaremediocre @darlingnikkisixx @adollsmind @fallout-girl219

⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️

You stood outside your cabin, the glow from your phone illuminating your face as you checked for any new texts. The night was still, with the occasional rustle from the trees around you, each sound sharpening the anticipation thrumming in your chest.

You heard a distant rustle, making your pulse spike. You squinted in the direction of the noise, but no figures emerged from the shadows. You rolled your eyes just as ding ding—a text came through.

coopy 💘

“we’re still wrapping up with kitchen duty, nicholas

ripped another trash bag”

“sorry!!!”

How could you be mad at that? You sent back a heart and said it’s okay, you were just waiting outside of your cabin to let them in.

The air between you, Nicholas, and Cooper had shifted ever since the night you'd shared weeks ago. It was undeniable now—a simmering, magnetic pull that made every shared glance, every graze of a hand, a thrill of its own. Those stolen touches and flirty moments had only fueled the chemistry, leaving you all on edge and craving more.

A few days after the heated moment in your room on what you call deemed as “goodie bag night”, you and Nicholas were checking the trail at the end of the day for campers’ lost items when he ate you out on the bench table in the middle of the forest.

You two knew you’d be alone so something was bound to happen; of course a hot makeout session where it felt like your lips and hands desperately search each other’s bodies to find more of each other was bound to happen but when he backed you into the table, lifted you up and immediately pulled down your shorts and buried his head between your thighs you were shocked at how bold he was.

He took breaks to kiss and rub your thighs but focused all his energy on your womanhood, with each flick of his tongue and the warmth of his breath drawing out a reaction you could barely contain yourself. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you anchored to the bench table as he explored every sensitive spot with an almost overwhelming intensity. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your breath hitching with each delicate stroke, feeling like he was savoring every second just as much as you were.

Nicholas looked up every so often with a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying the way he made you shiver and gasp. He slowed down just to watch your expression change, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he gave you a moment to catch your breath—before diving back in, his tongue tracing slow, tantalizing patterns that made it impossible to stay quiet.

By the time you felt the climax building, you were gripping the edge of the bench, your back arching as he brought you closer and closer. It felt raw and real, the two of you hidden away, surrounded by the openness of the forest, yet completely absorbed in each other.

You decided to go back inside your cabin while you waited for them. “coopy 💘” texted you said that managed to get the trash cleaned up now they just had to mop and then they’d be on their way over.

You started nervously tidying up things around your cabin while you waited for the “on our way!!” text. You found yourself pacing around and nervously fidgeting – when you realized you straightened out the items on your nightstand for the third time you stopped. “What is going on with me? You thought to yourself, already knowing the answer.

Tonight, you and the boys finally hinted at taking things all the way and having sex, moving past just the charged kisses and stolen touches. It felt inevitable—everything had been leading up to this. All the tension, the breathless, hands-on moments in the first aid shed, the teasingly dirty texts—it all felt like a slow burn toward this night. The three of you had known from the start that this was where things were headed, and now, the unspoken promise between you was finally ready to be fulfilled. It nearly was the last time you and Cooper were together.

The Shining played in the background on your laptop while you and Cooper made out in your bed. His hands warm and familiar against your skin. You could barely focus on the movie, your attention locked on the way his fingers trailed slowly along your waist and his breath tickled your neck. Each kiss felt like it could be the start of something more, something neither of you would stop if you finally let go. You’d both drawn the line before things went too far, but in this moment you wanted Cooper and he wanted you.

He was on top of you, his body pressing gently into yours, each kiss sweet and tender but growing deeper, like he couldn't bear to pull away. His lips moved with a hunger that matched yours, each kiss feeling like a promise to keep you safe. Your hands roamed his muscular back, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his skin as he whispered your name against your lips, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he needs you.

He stopped and pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes affectionately, the lowlights of your cabin highlighting his impeccable facial structure and jawline. He flashed his little smile as he does and said, “God, you’re so beautiful”, you blushed and he sat upright.

Rubbing your thighs that surrounded him, he continued “I just…” he hesitated, “I want you so bad right now,” his voice was soft, filled with a genuine warmth that made you melt a little deeper into the moment.

You looked at him, desire heavy in your gaze, and murmured, “You’re so sweet.” Your hand moved to his torso, fingers tracing gentle circles. “I know we both want to wait for Nicholas, but… I think he’d understand if it was just us.”

Cooper cocked his head with a slight smirk, amusement glinting in his eyes. “It’s just… different between you two,” you continued. “Nicholas is intense, moves fast, like he can’t hold back. But with you… it feels safe, like time slows down a little… like this time together is special.”

You felt embarrassed for some reason and let out a slight laugh, “I’m sorry,” you covered your face in shame “that sounded like i was in loved for a second” you said through a muffled nervous laugh.

Cooper chuckled softly, his hand gently pulling yours away from your face as he met your eyes. “Hey,” he murmured with a smile, “don’t apologize. I get it.” He leaned in, brushing a thumb along your cheek before pressing his lips to yours, a slow, deep kiss that seemed to dissolve any lingering embarrassment. His hands held you firmly, grounding you, letting you feel his steady warmth.

When he pulled back just a fraction, his gaze was soft and sincere. “I like that it feels special,” he whispered, his voice low. “And I don’t mind feeling in love if it’s with you.” He grinned, pressing his forehead to yours, and you felt a quiet thrill settle over you, the intimacy deepening with every gentle touch.

He continued, “Plus me and Nicholas have been talking about ways we can kind of balance each other out” between every few words he would plant kisses on your lips.

“Oh so there’s a plan”, you joke as you pull back to give him a sly look.

“Of course, we gotta take care of our girl,” he flashed a smile.

You smiled back softly, feeling your heart swell at his words. “Maybe for now, I could just take care of you?” you offered, your hand sliding down to his waistband, fingers grazing the skin just below. His breath hitched, and he gave a slight nod, leaning his forehead against yours as he let out a low, appreciative chuckle.

Your hand moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his breaths grew heavier, the slight tremor in his voice as he whispered your name. You wrapped your hand around his hardness and started to work your hand up and down. He grabbed at your arm, begging you to keep that pace.

You pulled apart from his kiss to enjoy his sounds, his face was buried into your neck. You could tell he focused on your movements and how good they made him feel. "Is this how you like it?" you whispered to him. He pulled his head up from your nook to nod and groan. You ran your hand back up his shaft to the tip and rubbed your thumb over it. He squirmed - "yes. god, yes." he breathed out, his head lulling back into your shoulder.

You planted kisses on the side of his face and down his neck as you moved your hand faster, stopping to tease his tip now and again. With both your eyes locked, his gaze was hazy with pleasure, his lips parted as he let out breathy sounds that only spurred you on. You leaned forward to kiss along his jaw, then down the length of his neck, feeling him shiver under your touch. Each movement of your hand made him pulse in your grip, and you could tell he was holding back, trying to make this moment last.

He tightened his grip on your arm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he tried to steady himself. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His hips began to move in sync with your rhythm, each subtle thrust letting you know just how close he was. You leaned into his ear, your voice a soft whisper. "I don't want you to cum yet, can you hold back for me?" you asked him in a coddling tone. He nodded "yes." while his eyes looked weakened under your control.

Your hand slid up to his tip once again and swiping your thumb across it, you felt the precum that came from it. His gasp shuttered and he continued to squirm. He shut his eyes tight to focus on following your directions while his mouth fell slightly open.

“Fuck – fuck – oh fuck," he said under his breath. He was so focused on holding out for you, he didn't want to finish without your say so because you had been so good to him.

You could see him trying hard to hold it in, wanting you to know he would do anything to keep you happy - it was time for his reward. “Cum for me," you whispered into his ear as you bit on his lobe. He whimpered at the praise and after a few more strokes, he came right into your hand. His body trembled at the release of pleasure as he fell into you.

After a few seconds, he gently pulled away and sat up, casting you a soft, grateful smile. “Be right back,” he whispered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before slipping out if bed to grab something to clean up. When he returned, he moved carefully, almost tenderly, making sure you were comfortable as he helped clean up with a warm cloth.

Settling back into the bed, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice filled with quiet admiration. You smiled, nestling into him, feeling safe and cherished as his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. The two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other, comfortable silence settling as he held you close, your breaths slowly falling in sync.

You sat on your bed, nervously fidgeting when your phone rang again;

NAC!!!!

“we’re heading out now, can i shower in your cabin pls? i

fucking reek 😭”

You typed back quickly, “Of course, see you soon.” The realization hit you as you put the phone down—they were on their way. In a matter of minutes, the cabin would fill with their presence, their warmth, and everything you’d been waiting for.

You settled on the bed, glancing around, feeling butterflies dance in your stomach. You could picture it now—the three of you tangled together, hands exploring, voices mingling in laughter and quiet whispers, each touch and glance blending into something real and undeniably special.

A knock at the door pulled you back to the present. Taking a steadying breath, you walked over, opening yourself to the night ahead.

[lochlot]

this show sure loved its blue and green filters may it rest in peace

[stevengrcnt]

of course i watched across the spiderverse for the plot

[waywardstation]

Might as well post comically-annoyed Ingo

Original image under the cut:

[luvrxbunny]

joel would fuck you silly then force you to ride him so he can watch you struggle

this was supposed to end before the cut 😭

“c’mon, baby. you’re never gonna get me t’cum like that.” he grips your hips roughly and fucks you relentlessly for just a second. “like that. okay?” he asks and let’s go. you nod to him eagerly, trying your best to fuck him the way he wants but your brain too mushy to follow through with the action.

you lift yourself on his cock and your legs tremble as you hold yourself up before you drop back down. the shock that runs through your stomach as his dick slides right against your g-spot has you collapsing onto him. your hands wrap around his neck without a second thought, so used to him taking over and helping you. but his hands are tucked behind his head and you can barely fit your hands. “joel—“

you drag out the syllables of his name like a whine and he chuckles at you, heating up your stomach with embarrassment. “what, darlin’?” you whine at his southern drawl, at the pet name and bury your face in his chest. “i need your help. can’t- i can’t do it on my own.” you pout and look up at him, hoping your puppy dog eyes are working properly.

judging but the shuddering sigh that falls his lips we can assume they were working. his hands come to your hips and slam you onto his cock at a painful pace. his eyes are focused on where the two of you connect and little grunts are falling from his lips. “such a fuckin’ princess. can’t do anythin’ for y’self, huh?”

his words have you clenching on his cock, giving a tremble to his voice that only pushes you closer to the edge. “n-need everyone to do stuff for you, hmm? too prissy to put any work in?” you shake your head at him with a moan. “m’just too weak ri-right now, joey. don’ be mean.” your voice is a light whine in his ear as you cling to him.

“mhm. it’s okay darlin’.” his hand comes to cradle the back of your head and his ear gets close to yours. “love that you need my help so bad. can’t get off without me— can’t please yourself the way i can.” his hand grips your jaw and forces your eyes to his “you need me”

his brow furrows as he tries not to cum at the way your eyelids flutter and your hand comes around to play with your clit “i’ll always need you.” he nods at you with a low groan as you squeeze his cock.

he stops moving in you, letting you clench around him as you play with your clit. he holds your face in place and watched how it contorts with pleasure, how your expression becomes more pained and watery the more you suffocate his cock. his eyes look you up and down once, gauging how close you are and that’s what breaks the tension building in your stomach.

the second you’re squeezing around him he groans your name into your face, his head leans forward to crash your lips together as he slowly fills you with his cum. he tenses and twitches against you as he does, muttering a small sounds that resemble “my fuckin’ princess. so perfect f’me” as he thrusts into you.

[lfghughes]

Won't Do It Again pt.3

It was easy to fall back into this habit with Jack. All the times he hurt you would be erased from your mind and instead you lived in this love filled state. It had been a couple of weeks since Jack had reached out and it had been a blissful couple of weeks. You were getting the attention you wanted from him and he was over essentially every night.

When you weren’t with Jack, you were still spending time with Nico. Of course some guilt filled you when you were with Nico because yes you liked him and yes you liked spending time with him but he wasn’t Jack. It also made you feel worse because you knew he liked you a lot more than you liked him.

Earlier today he had asked if you wanted to go watch his practice and you agreed because why not. You barely had spoken to Jack at his practice but you weren’t really expecting much from him during his practices. It also wasn’t shocking hours later when he ended up at your place. Both of you laid on the couch, his arms around you as his fingers playfully traced your skin. “So you and Nico have been hanging out a lot…”

Your stomach took a small dip at the mention of Nico but also a part of you wondered if Jack was slightly jealous. “Yeah, we’re good friends. You know this.” You shrugged as you looked up at him, trying to decipher the look on his face. “So that’s all it is? Just friends? You’re not into him a little?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“Why are you asking? Trying to make sure you still get invited over?” You teased. Jack rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “No, I don’t care. You can date whoever you want. Doesn’t matter.” And with those words your heart sank into your stomach. It was clear he didn’t notice how much his words hurt you and so you sat there in silence, not sure what to say. Part of you wanted him to leave but another part of you still wanted to believe he was just jealous and didn’t mean what he said.

Suddenly you felt his fingers trace against your skin again. “We’re going on one of our road trips for our games. Kind of hate going because can’t be here with you every night.” He mumbled and once again you were melting into him. “I’ll miss you too loser.” You teased him as he gave you a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll make sure to call you before bed every night.”

And he had kept that promise. While he was gone he did indeed call you every night he was out. How were you supposed to convince yourself that he wasn’t into you when he did little things like this. It was getting close to the time when Jack would call you. It was one of their last nights on this trip and hopefully by tomorrow you could see him again.

When your phone rang you expected it to be Jack but instead you saw Nico’s name pop up. You answered, slightly confused from the phone call but you weren’t about to ignore it. “Hello?” You said into the phone. “When were you going to tell me about you and Jack?” And just like that your stomach took a big dip as you became speechless on the phone.

[nonbinarykai]

Guys… guys.. the whole reason we don’t see Cole and Zane’s reaction is because their going to parallel what happen to kai to the aftermath of Zane’s death in s4 and the tournament GUYS… GUYS WERE GOING TO SEE MORE OF THE NINJAS REACTION TO KAI BEING GONE GUYS PLEASE…

[legendslore]

If they do end up making a Calamity movie or miniseries (6 episodes would be awesome), I just hope that they use Brennan's full monologue as Asmodeus and change nothing about that encounter (I'm thinking the 9th lvl counterspell + reviving and killing over and over), because it's one of my top five moments across anything Critical Role. It was simply ICONIC.

[estinesstories]

𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓘𝓽, 𝓟𝓲𝓰. 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1-2

𝙃𝙖𝙯𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙃𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙡 𝙭 𝙁!𝙋𝙞𝙢𝙥!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙡, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙜𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 💗

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙥𝙞𝙢𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙮, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧/𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙭, 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤.

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙞𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖��𝙚, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙢. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙑𝙪𝙡𝙜𝙖𝙧 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙑𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝘼𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙍—𝙥𝙚.

(𝙃𝘼𝙕𝘽𝙄𝙉 𝙃𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙇 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝙑𝙄𝙑𝙕𝙔𝙋𝙊𝙋! 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 @𝙘𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙚! 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 💗)

You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the demon at the front desk. It had been thirty minutes, thirty minutes since you were supposed to meet Valentino for direction issues. You growled to yourself as both your arms and legs were crossed, your ermine coat sagging on your shoulders and showing your gold chains and velvet dress. Your star glasses rested softly the bridge of your nose as you looked around the room. Pulling out a cigarette, you lit it and watched as the demon at the front desk tapped away at her computer. Finally, the door in front of you that led to the hallway to the studio opened, revealing Val in all his glory. He smiled evilly at you through his glasses while you glared at him. He took a drag of his own cigarette as he watched yours hang from your mouth.

“Y/n! Good to see you again~.” He slurred your way, watching as you stood up and strutted over to him with narrowed, pink eyes.

“Your lucky I didn’t leave, ya fuckin’ lump.” You growled at him as you walked past.

You’ve never liked Valentino. You were aware he abused his cast members and employees, so you tried your best to stay away from him. You didn’t need him anyways, you were the biggest pimp/porn director in hell! It helped a lot that you were half-hellborn, so you could travel to all of the rings and make videos for everyone. You were also friends with Asmodeus, who gave you plenty of tips and tricks. He also taught you that list should be enjoyed and never forced, and that it’s an art. Which was specifically why you and him alike hated who Val was and what he did. He was just lucky Ozzie couldn’t travel to the Pride ring, or else Val wouldn’t have a career anymore, let alone a life. The only reason you were teaming with him for this was because you his movie meant really good money.

Val glared at you as you walked in, but held his tongue for the money. As you entered the studio, you looked around at the actors and crew members. All of them looked rather… on edge. You furrowed your brows, but ignored it.

“So, where’s the star?” You huffed as you looked around the room, multiple large, buff sinners as well as tiny petite, skinny ones as well. Val seemed to be searching as well for a moment before growling and turning to you with a very forced smile.

“One moment.” He seethed before stomping off to a door on the other side of the room. You quickly glared at him and stopped his movement. Her stopped dead in his tracks and cold sweated as he heard your heels walk up behind him.

“I’m gonna get ‘em y’ abusive prick.” You whispered to him, making sure no one else could hear as they worked. “Go back t’ yer fucking chair.”

You heard him scurry off as you softly knocked on the door that read Angel Dust at the top, golden plate. Moments late, a hesitant “come in,” came from inside. You gently open the door, having to duck your head as to not hit it as well as your horns on the top of the frame. You smiled at the sinner in front of you, a white, demon, spider boy in a red velvet robe. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“Hey, darlin’,” you cooed as you strutted up to him, subconsciously swaying your hips. You took note of his funny expression. “Are you my star?”

“Who are you?” He inquired, turning in his chair to actually look at you.

“I’m y’ new co-director, doll!” You cheered. “Whenever yer ready, come on out. We’ll wait for you.”

Angel looked utterly confused as you twiddled your fingers his way as if to say goodbye before walking out of the room and back over to Valentino who sat impatiently in his chair. You sat in the one next to it leaned back.

“If I ever find out you hurt another one o’ yer workers, girls or boys, I will rip your limp dick off of your bald balls and chop it in half, and then I’ll shove one half up your ass and see it shut. The other half will go in your throat, and then I’ll see that up too.” You threatened him in a low voice, not looking at him in the eyes. You just heard his breath hitch for a moment before Angel’s door opened, revealing him in nothing but black leather boots. You snatched the script from the table beside you and looked over the first scene. You turned to Valentino with a snarl.

“Are you kidding me? The main subject is gonna be some random robbery rape? No one’s gonna like that shit.” You whispered at him. He huffed at you with crossed arms.

“Fine then. You direct it if you’re so full of it.” He seethed. You scoffed at him but stood and walked over to Angel and the group of large sinners.

“We’re changin’ the script up a bit, fellas.” You took a huffed of smoke and blew it down and away from their faces, something that made them raise a brow.

“Who the fuck are you, bitch?” One of the bigger demons rasped out. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m Y/n, owner of Star Streaks. And your new director, since your old one,” you growled out, glancing back at Val, who was glued to his phone. “Is a bit busy at the moment.”

Their eyes widened at your names, and they all immediately shut up. Your eyes finally landed to Angel with a sweet smile as you looked down at him. “We took out the rape-y-aspect of it, darlin’, don’t worry about it.”

Angel’s eyes seemed to soften slightly till you finally looked back to the others. “Alright, here’s the new script,” you snapped your fingers, making each of their hands hold a packet of papers. “I’ll give you an hour to memorize it. Now, I’m gonna order everyone some bloodbaths from Frazzola’s!”

Before they could say anything, you walked off and pulled your phone out, failing the bakery. “Aye, Baldi,” you turned to Valentino, who looked like he was having the worst day ever. He gave you a half-assed glance. “How many people are workin’ on this right now? Cast and everything.

“Uh, like, I don’t know, forty?” He sighed with a rose brow. You smiled at him and walked off, listening to the cheerful woman answer the call.

You watched carefully as the sex scene finally took place. Suddenly, your phone vibrated on your lap. You picked it up and looked at the name, your assistant’s popping up on the screen. You showed Valentino and watched him silently nod. You exited the room quietly and stood outside to pick up the call. A few seconds later, a blonde woman you knew as the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar, walked up to the door to the studio. Your eyes widened.

“Excuse me for a moment, Honey.” You whispered to her, looking to Charlie again. “Princess Charlie! What a lovely surprise.”

Charlie seemed startled by your voice before widening her eyes at you. “Y/n Star? Woah, I didn’t know angel works for you too!”

You chuckled at her and smiled sweetly at her excitement. “Oh no, honey. I’m just his co-director. Speaking of, make sure yer quiet when you go in, their recordin’.”

She nodded at you silently before entering the room. You then unmuted yourself and apologized to Honey for having to hold on her.

As you were talking with Honey about statistics, which quickly just turned into how excited she was that she was pregnant with her dear wife’s baby, it was a few minutes after Charlie went into the room, and you heard crackling and screams coming from the room. You also noticed an orange hue illuminated under the door. Soon, smoke poured out of the door, and the screaming stopped. Your brows furrowed.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry darlin’ I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I think there’s a fire in the studio.” You hurried out and hung up before whipping open the door. Behind it, stood charred equipment that had been knocked over, as well as multiple workers and actors sprawled all over the room, terrified expressions on their faces. It didn’t help that you looked furious. You searched the room and landed your eyes on Charlie, who looked more scared than anyone there. You frowned and looked at her worriedly. “What the fuck happened in here? Are you okay?” You put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t speak. You turned to the rest of the sinners and demons in there room. “Is everyone okay?”

You got multiple nods and “yeah”’s from everyone, making you sigh in relief. Suddenly, you realized you couldn’t find the two most important people of the movie in the room, Angel Dust and Valentino. You seethed, angrily storming to Angel’s room and slamming open the door so hard it causes the handle to get stuck in the wall. Valentino whips his head up to look at you, and all color leaves his expression as you slowly looked down to Angel Dust, who was crumbled up on the floor in pain, and held a black bruise on his eye. You were absolutely fuming. Angel looks at you with a painful expression, tears just barely brimming his eyes. You looked back up to Valentino. You stepped over Angel and towards Val.

“Angel, go get Charlie and leave. Tell ‘er you ain’t comin’ back ‘ere. And remember not to be mad at her, be mad at this little cunt sucker.” You growled, never taking your wild eyes off of the abuser. He said nothing, and only left. You ripped the door out of the wall and slammed it shut. “Are you FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME!?”

“W-wait, Y/n! Please, it was an accident-“ He stuttered, backing up as you stepped closer. You growled as he finally fell back onto the couch in his room.

“Fuckin’ accident my ASS, you SHIT DICK BITCH!” You screamed in his face before slapping him hard across the face. The hit caused him to fall to the side, but you caught him by the throat before he could go very far and slammed him back into the wall behind the couch. “What’d I tell you!? WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU!? I TOLD YOU IF I CAUGHT YOU DOIN’ THAT FUCKIN’ SHIT I WAS GONNA FUCK YOU UP, RIGHT!? IS THAT WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT ME TO DO TO YOU!?”

You slammed a flat palm onto Val’s crotch, causing him to let out a mangled mix between a pleasured moan and a pained grunt. You narrowed your eyes at him in disgust as he looked at you with wide, lustful eyes. Your grip on his neck tightened, causing his top hands to grasp your forearm weakly, his bottom hands spreading flatly onto the back of the couch to hold himself up.

“You, are fuckin’ disgustin’. You’re the sluttiest, bitchiest, most insecure, insufferable piece of pimp trash I have ever had the torment of meeting. You’re lucky that I have a lick of damn sense, or I’d rip that hard little mealworm you call a cock into pieces. I know that you own Angel’s soul. Give me that contract or I’ll still consider your damn punishment.” And with that, you let go of him. He panted and quickly snapped his fingers, the golden contract appearing before your eyes. You snatched it and glared at him before storming out of the room. You turned to the sinners who were still left in the room, an apologetic look crossing your features. “I am so sorry t’ all of ya, y’all can go take the rest of the week off, and I’ll make sure to give you all your paychecks by Tuesday.”

Soon, everyone left, and you stepped out of the room left with a closed eye sigh. Your index and thumb were rested on the bridge of your nose as well as your hand on your hip as you felt a headache coming along.

“Uh, Miss Star?” You were startled at the name, whipping your head to the side to find Charlie and Angel seeming to wait for you outside the room. They stepped up to you when you softened your gaze. Charlie smiled sadly at you, while Angel just kinda looked sad.

“Oh, what is it sweet heart?” You asked tiredly, leaning down a bit to talk to them both. Charlie looked over to Angel and nudged him towards you encouragingly. He sighed.

“Thank you. Thank you so much fer helpin’ us,” his voice cracked, and he sounded like he was about to cry. Your frowned at him. “Fer helpin’ me.”

You smiled gently at him and looked in between the two. “Can I give y’all a hug?”

Charlie looked ecstatic, while Angel rose a brow, but you pulled them both in for the most genuine, comforting hug either of them had ever felt, like that of a mother. They both relaxed into your embrace for a moment before you suddenly remembered. “Oh! Angel, I forgot.”

The then snapped, the contract the sinner had signed appearing in front of all of them. Angel’s eyes widened, tears brimming them yet again.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered and grabbed the paper, before you set it into cold flames, causing him to jump.

“You’re free now Angel, no more abuse, and no more pornos unless that’s what y’ want.” You spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder with a smile as he turned to look at you. Suddenly, he rushed to take you in a tight hug, leaving you surprised. But your gaze soon softened at him.

“Thank you…” he whispered, and you patted his back.

“Course, honey! Now, if you did wanna keep working, do not work for that man. If you want, I’ve got an open spot for actor. No contracts needed, tons of friendly demons, loads of breaks, and you can totally quit whenever. But I do understand if you don’t wanna keep the business. Just make sure you call me if you want the gig!” You gleamed at him, giving him your card as you started to walk down the hall to the elevator. “Or, you can just call me! I’ll be happy to talk whenever! Love you, kids!”

And with that, you left, strutting iconically down the hall and leaving the two staring at you in shock.

“Oh, she’s definitely my new idol.” Angel mumbled.

“Uh huh.” Charlie answered.

𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙊𝙉𝙀!! 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙤! 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨! 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 💗🫶

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot (First part- Drabble) {If you want things to make sense you probably should read it, the first part, 😁😁😁}

Pairing: Fem! Student! and Soulmate! Reader x Damian Wayne/Robin

AU: Soulmate! Reader

Content: Swearing, angst, teenage stupidity, aged up kiddos 16/17, technical talk about soulmates, lowkey frustrations, some much angst yall, some fluff, mythology, toxic parents, and soul crushing

Word Count: 7,233

(P.S: Okay so this is going to be continuing from the I Feel a Sin Coming On drabble, I've been getting a few comments on it asking for a part two and someone sent in a request for a Shy and Smart Student! Reader with Damian and let's just say the gears in my head started turning. Anyways this could go on if you guys want it to, but it could also end like this! It will break you. I hope you all enjoy! :D)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While, unfortunately, it's true the somewhat cruel existence of soul mates was around and kicking, love- true love was still there. Or at least it was believed to be there. It supposedly thrived even more for some reason. Some speculated that it was because there was a standing of everyone deserving love. Whether they were good or bad or in-between, they got someone who would love them for the rest of their life regardless of all the mistakes they made or continue to make. Others said it was because the universe deemed people good enough to have someone for the rest of their lives. Which seems a little close minded for a society in which everyone has a soulmate. But maybe that was because of the belief that if things didn’t work out with your soulmate- if you didn’t love them as you should or didn’t get the love you thought you deserved- it was because you weren’t good enough. Weren’t good enough to get the right kind of love. But in the end soulmates do exist. They exist and are for everyone. For each person you pass on the road, there is someone out there for them. Just as there's someone out there for you.

But the daunting notion that you have to be the right kind of good to get your perfect love chilled you to the bone. After all, if it wasn’t perfect what did that say about you? Because in the end weren’t they made for you? Maybe that’s why some still believed in true love, that it was real. Both because of and not because of soulmates. Rather because of the concept. Someone made just for you. Even if that person was flawed-if you are flawed, just as they were made for you, you were made for them. But sometimes, what is made for you can harm you a lot more than what’s not. 

It was why you believed that the reason true love might still exist was actually because some people fell for their soulmate before they realized they were fated to be. Before that dreaded bond-that agonizing pull kicked, of their own free will they fell in love. Because they didn't have to suffer through the pull of a bond they never wanted, these people were blissfully ignorant of what forced love was like. They did not know the horrors of those forced to stay with someone their heart loved but mind did not. And despite all your animosity towards soulmates, despite your fear and hatred, what made this all the worse-all the more ironic-was that you were technically one of those people. 

Before you even knew what a soulmate was to you-before you were old enough to recognize the pull, to feel, it’s dark and fervent demand for attention-you fell for him. For his laugh: in the way he tilted his chin back as if trying to suppress its joyous sound and his smile: in the way the corners of his would curve showing a slight dimple in his left cheek and revealing the softness his eyes could have. For his kindness: in the way he disregarded what others said and lived his life freely as himself despite the demand of society for him to be like the rest-to be normal. For his mortality: in the way he would never allow bullies to pick on others around him, even if he thought they needed to toughen up. But most importantly for the way he tried each and every single day to learn more and be better even if you’re the only one who noticed. For the way he seemed to be all what you dreamed, something that should have caused you suspicion but instead drew you in. 

That is until your 13th birthday and, much like many before you, you felt the tug of that dreaded bond.

You were six when you decided to loathe soulmates. Six when you swore on your very soul- your existence that you would never love your soulmate. You swore to live in misery of your own making rather than fates. No matter who they were, you would hate them.

But fate... well fate hated to be tested. So, fate did the worst thing it could. It made you fall for the one person you swore never to.

Your soulmate.

Your very own soulmate who seemed like the only light in the dark and suddenly you began questioning whether or not these feelings- these emotions you had thought were your own and genuine- were actually yours. Or if they were just fate pulling its strings and making you dance and dance and dance.

To say you were upset was an understatement and... well let's just say fate might be prideful, but you were twice as petty.

At age thirteen you shoved the emotions you had so dearly cherished so deep in your chest they seemed like nothing more than echoes of naive mind. You distanced yourself from him and only let yourself feel in your loneliest of moments.

Four years, it had nearly been four years since you had begun your battle against fate. And- and and fate was getting stronger... as you have been told. The older you get- the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the bond is.

Those moments... those lonely moments happened more often, and those stupid annoying emotions rose up with the beating of your traitorous heart.

Which is exactly how you ended up in the last place you ever wanted to be. Face to face with your soulmate... with them recognizing you and what you were to them.

"I'm your soulmate." Damian Fucking Wayne said his eyes locked on you as you felt your heart jump to your throat and all the color drain from your face.

"Fucking shit, " You whispered, unable to break his gaze.

Shaking-hand shaking and heart pounding at your rib cage demanding you acknowledge him-that you give in and tell him he’s right. That you are soulmates and let fate drive you. But there was something fate and your treasonous heart seemed to forget. You were one petty bitch. 

Weakly smiling you let out a nervous laugh and turned, avoiding eye contact. Eyes darting around they finally settled on your bare wrist as your other hand scrambled to gather your things against your trembling chest.  

"Oh- my,” Your voice cracked as you shoved your things into your bag, “would you look at the time! I need to get going." 

Fingers racing over the items in your bag you went to zip it close and make your escape when your eyes rested on your final item. The book you were reading earlier. Which just so happened (damn you fate) to be right in front of Damian. Eyes raising to him, gazes latching for just a moment you did the one thing you should not. You looked down, down and back at your book before making the stupidly impulsive decision to lunge for it. Your fingers brushed the cover, nails barely scraping lines into it when a hand-warm and firm clasped around your wrist. Pulling you back towards the table in a quick tug that caused your stomach to slam against the tables side. Wincing you stabbed your nails into your palm, not daring to look up. You had fallen for his trap, the oh so obvious trap you could have avoided had you just not looked at him. 

"I'm your soulmate," He said again, his voice clear and stanch as he gently pulled on your arm, clearly trying to get you to meet his eyes, "and you are mine."

Soulmate- God why did you have to care about him. Why- why-did it have to be him? Why-

why couldn’t fate just leave you alone?

Something about the tone of his voice made your heart shatter. It was almost desperate, but you couldn’t-you couldn’t allow yourself to be weak. After all, you would not let fate win. Petty- you were so violently petty and prideful- oh even fate knew this yet- it still tried... this- you wouldn't let this stand. You could-no would not allow fate to get away with even attempting this. Taking a breath in-a deep breath- you raised your chin. Steadying your mind with the thoughts of your parents, of how you needed to be around them. Calm, poised, emotionless. Ignoring the well of tears in your throat and the pressure behind your eyes you finally met his gaze. 

Green. All you could see was those beautiful green eyes, wide and desperate. Yearning-yearning for you to give a reply. But the one you were about to give would only hurt those eyes, regardless, it needed to be done. One pain- one moment or time of pain and sorrow was far better than a life of them. 

Slowly letting out the breaths you previously let in you tilted your head, feeling his grip on your wrist lightening. 

“I do not have a soulmate," You began instantly seeing the surprise on his face-the confusion, so you continued, “I won’t have one. Not you. Not anyone. You see, I don't believe in soulmates. So, I do believe you are mistaken.” 

His grip dropped but seeing the broken look on his face made your facade crumble in an instant as your heart screamed to stop. To comfort him. To take back your words and press yourself into his arms. But you were smarter than that, even if you weren’t strong enough to hide the tears anymore. Throat bobbing, you felt your mouth tremble as your eyes stung and something warm began spilling down your cheeks. 

Pulling yourself away from him, you smiled a bitter smile, not even daring to acknowledge the tears you were shedding. Head high, you turned. 

Voice cracking, you bid farewell, “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get going.”

Feet scrambling you nearly dashed out the door, leaving the book that got you into this mess behind. After all, it was now only going to hold harish and painful memories. 

As soon as your feet touched the gravel, you ran. Tears freely spilled down your cheeks and you sobbed and panted. Mind trying it’s best to soothe the heart that had just torn itself into pieces. But there was nothing it could do. There was nothing you could do but cry and run. Run away from him. From all the pain you had and were going to feel. It was hell, yes. But at least it was yours. At least you knew how and why it had happened, at least you knew what was to come. At least you were still you right?

By the time you had finally calmed your tears-though your heart was still howling, you had made it home. Wiping your tears you took a deep breath in and held it, hoping it would steady your mind and breathing enough to face what was about to come. You hesitated for a moment, then let the breath out wiped your face again and walked up to the door. It was then you heard the shouting. The rage filled voices cursing at each other, dishes and shoes flying, shattering and knocking things about. 

Hand trembling you pushed down the doorknob and walked in. The barrage of insults and dissonance of things being thrown slammed into you. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you saw the shadows in the kitchen, too caught up in their most recent argument to even acknowledge your existence-that is until they came into view. 

“God you never listen!” Your father roared

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing all day!” Your mother countered

Quivering you slowly moved towards the staircase as their fight pushed into the living room. Your father’s hands waved as your mother rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed. 

“Really that’s how you’re gonna be?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Fine then, I’ll just take this lazy ass of mine and leave!”

“GOOD!”

With that your father turned and stormed past you straight out the door, slamming it behind him. You flinched and turned to see your mother staring at you. 

“Ugh! I can’t believe him,” She hissed before she shook her head, scowling, “absentee father, sitting on his ass all day while I make the money and take care of the needless kid. God, pregnant at 18- now married to that loser! My life went down the drain. If only it weren't for you...”

Those words stabbed at your heart, sinking in their little daggers in the spots they knew best. You knew she didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you always did.  It wasn’t the first time you had heard things like this, but it did seem to hurt all the more due to what happened earlier this afternoon. Sniffing slightly, you lowered your head and your voice cracking as you had to fight off more tears whimpered,

“I’m sorry mom.”

As if a flip switched your mom’s brown furrowed and scowl dropped. She looked you over, concern in her eyes and she took a step forward. 

“Are you okay honey? You don’t sound too good.”

Raising your head you tightly smiled and nodded, “Of course, just stressed cuz of school. I’ve got some exams coming up and it’s causing my emotions to be all over the place.”

She nodded eyes raving over you, resentment heavy in them as she plopped onto the couch with sigh, “Okay, you better be doing good in school alright? Don't want you to end up like that louse of man your father is.”

You nodded again, “Of course! Actually I was about to go and study.”

“Good, you do that.” She replied as she picked up the remote and flipped on the T.V.

You paused, for just a moment watching her as the resentment began to slide from her eyes, her face softening. She was so pretty, yet harsh lines from constant scowls and frowns bore their way onto her cheeks. Line surrounded her eyes from the tears and sleepless nights. And it was all because of you. Turning, your hands tight on your bag, you raced up the stairs, dashing towards your room where you collapsed onto the ground the second the door was closed. Hand against your face you pressed your head against the door and bit your lip. You did not have the luxury of more tears.  

Turning you found yourself looking at your own reflection. The combination of your mother and father. The perfect combination. It made you wonder what they saw when they looked at you. Did they see a reflection of themselves? Or just an echo of the person they loathed to love. You knew for a fact they never saw you, just you. It was always tied with one or the other. You could tell because today your mother avoided your eyes, that was because you had your father’s eyes. So today, she must have seen him in you. At least until your hair covered your face-her hair- and she saw herself. Maybe that’s why she softened; you didn’t truly know. They loved you, yes. But only because they saw themselves in you. Because on the good days, they saw each other. Because in a way you were them. What hurt the most though, was not when they saw each other or themselves in you. But the fact that they would never see you. And if your parents, the people who were supposed to love you the most, the people who brought you into this world could never see you, who could? 

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It had nearly been a week since you last saw and denied being soulmates with Damian Wayne. In said period you spent your free time dodging Damian and all his friends as well as digging your nose into every soulmate lore, history or origin you could find. While you didn’t want a soulmate, that didn’t mean Da- you soulmate should suffer because of it. So, you had made it your mission to discover if there was any way you could break the bond now. Research had told you that if one party ignored the bond for long enough it would fade for the other. But you didn’t know how long that would take and merely telling Damian you weren’t soulmates tore you up so badly that the mere sight of him sends you into tears. Therefore, you needed to find a way to break the bond. Both for yourself and for Damian. 

But as far as you could tell it was impossible. Every single myth, origin and lore of soulmates explained them as the other half of each other, inseparable even incomplete without the other. Part of you hated that thought. That you were incomplete without your soulmate. Because weren’t you a person, able to function live, laugh and love all on your own? Without a soulmate? Only Greek mythology even considers you as whole without your soulmate. Though it does say that they are meant to be together and once they meet they will not want to part. Which did not read well for your plans. In Chinese mythology there was the Red String or Red Thread of Fate 

A tangible string, perhaps it was something that could be broken. But from what you read it could not, at least you could not cut it or tear it with your hands. It cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It can-

Taking a deep breath in, you rubbed your brow. It didn’t really make sense to you that the string or thread or whatever it was couldn’t be broken. It also didn’t make sense that a soulmate was to be bound to you for life. Logically speaking there had to be a loophole. Afterall no one feels their bond until they are thirteen. If you were truly bound for life, you would always feel it. Therefore, there must be a workaround. A way to break the bond or someone- or someone to break it- to remove it. 

Since it is not there from the beginning it cannot be like in the Greek, Jewish or Hindu myths. But it might be connected to that string of fate theory. And there was one person who you could think of that might be able to remove or break the bond. The very person who put it there. And if the Chinese myth is right it’s Yuè Xià Lăorén or Yuè Lăo. But as far as you could tell no one was meeting old men at night right before their thirteenth birthday. 

It felt like a lost cause. You doubted anyone actually ever seriously tried to break their soulmate bond. No one ever seemed to have your determination or rather stubbornness. Most people would have surely given up by now, but you desperately needed a way. Because despite how much you hated it, how much it made you hate yourself. You couldn’t help but love him. And it terrified you. 

Your parents started out in love and now they were-... it’d be difficult to say what they had was anything other than torture. Day in day out fighting. Yelling and screaming. Shouting. Such anger at someone they were supposed to love. It made you wonder, were they really in love? Were they really supposed to be each other's happy ever after? Each other's eternity? If so, what did that mean for you? Did that mean you were doomed to be stuck in the same cycle of love turning to hate? Did that mean that you were going to lose a love you always told you had? Did that mean that you were going to die unloved? It was a fear- your biggest if you were being honest. That the person who was supposed to love you forever, doesn’t really love you. And you could take the chance. Not with what you knew- what you’d seen. There was no way in hell you were ever going to let that happen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was truly unfortunate that you just so happened to have a mother deeply involved in her job. One that resulted in her dragging you to a gala because she needed to show she had the perfect little family. What a joke. A cosmic joke as said gala was happening at none other than Wayne manor. And its host? You guessed it,  Bruce Wayne himself with his gaggle of children all in attendance. How did you know this? Well, your eye caught one of the many children. The one you were trying your hardest to avoid. 

Damian Mother Fucking Waye.

And it seems you caught his eye as well, because the second he looked in your direction his face lit up. That is until you turned away from him, the next you saw the color drained from his face and he practically stormed out of the room. Though any random bystander would have thought he calmly exited, you knew better. Which was valid considering you had basically spit in his face and said he wasn’t good enough. But it still hurts. Nowadays it seems that everything hurts. Though it was all probably due to the bond you were so determined to reject. 

So, to dull the pain you clung to the walls of the ballroom. Heavily nursing the glass of champagne you snagged from an unassuming waiter. It had been probably close to two hours since you arrived and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through it, however you most definitely did not want your parents to see. You were underaged and they wanted to keep their ‘perfect’ image intact. Which is partially the reason why when the people began to make their rounds around the ballroom, you decided to slip out. Though you abandon your drink, you thought wandering around the manor’s halls might help you relax even if it was only a little bit. 

Wandering down the darkened corridors you listened to the faint music that trailed after you as you got further and further away from the ballroom. Night encompassing each hallway you turned down it wasn’t long till the sounds of the strings playing was nothing more than a faint humming like the buzz of a fly. Darkness and silence swallowed the area-well near silence. The creaking and settling of the manor seemed to be the only sound. That is until you hear a clattering and an all too familiar voice cursing in another language. 

Maybe, it was due to the slight buzz those sips of champagne gave you-maybe it was the exhaustion from the days of fighting off your feelings-or maybe it was because the pull was just too strong; you walked towards the sound and pushed a door open to find a disheveled Damian Wayne sitting in on a couch, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands, a crystal glass at his feet with half melted ice cubes surrounding it. 

He did not seem to notice your presence, so you slowly began to venture closer. Noticing his messy hair, unbuttoned shirt and missing tie. Why did he have to look so damn beautiful? Better hearing his mutterings which were half in English, you pause to listen. 

“Seems like Todd was correct,” He mumbled as a hiccup stalled his sentence, “this does improve everything… or perhaps not.” 

His body shifted as he hiccuped again, and had you not seen it yourself you would not have believed that the high pitched sound came from him. It almost made you laugh, but you were able to restrain yourself and move closer. This time, it seems Damian heard you as his head snapped in your direction. He blinked a few times almost as if he was trying to get water from his eyes. Head tilting he narrowed his gaze, voice slurring as he asked, “Y/N?”

Sighing you nodded and walked even closer until you stood in front of him. Smiling slightly you waved and took a deep breath in before replying, “Hi Damian.”

He blinked more, brow furrowing as he muttered something you could not catch. Sinking deeper into the couch he gave you a blank look. 

“So have you come to inform me of our ‘non-existent bond’? Because I assure you if you do not wish to discuss it with me I will leave it alone.”

You raised an eyebrow and crouched so you could be eye level with him. Meeting his eyes you found yourself once again admiring their beauty.

“Really? Then thank you. I appreciate that.” You paused concern stirring so strongly in your chest you couldn’t help but let the worry take hold, “ But I’m not here for that.” 

Damian sat up glaring at you and you did not move, swallowing as he got a bit closer. 

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m worried about you.”

As if it was instinctual, he replied, “And who's fault is that.”

Though he winced afterwards despite you merely sighing at his comment. Resting your chin on your knees you gave him a sad smile and nodded. 

“You’re right… I owe you an explanation.”

Heart in your throat you met his eyes again and asked, “Would you let me give you one?”

Silence thrummed between the two of you for a lot longer than you would have liked. His gaze not leaving your face as you took a deep breath in and let it out. You should have done this from the start and at the very least if things go awry he probably won't remember any of this. 

His hand gesturing to the place next to him he said, “Sit.”

You snorted and rose to your feet. Then the seat next to him shifted a bit awkwardly before you turned to him. He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle. It stung far more than you would ever admit seeing him like this. But- but it would fade. It will fade. He won’t be like this forever. He won’t. 

“So… I should probably tell you why I don’t believe in soulmates.”

He grunted in reply, and you weakly laughed, “I-hmm… this is rather hard to explain. You see my parents are soulmates and they-”

You stopped yourself, watching as he stared across the room. Realizing that telling him about this was letting him in. And you could not let him in. Biting your lip you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you once again fought off tears. 

“I really don’t like their relationship. I hate it. And and to me it seems everyone with a soulmate is miserable. They aren’t happy. Shouting, arguing, fighting. I will not risk the chance of being like my parents. I refuse.”

He was looking at you now. Brow furrowed and the bottle slipped between his fingers. Your voice cracked and you winced, swallowing as you shrugged. 

“I- i am a coward. I refuse to take any chances because I don’t want to get hurt.”

The unspoken ever again hung on your lips as your parents' rage flashed through your mind. Fingers picking at one another you looked down. Unable to keep eye contact without crying. 

“I’m scared and- and worried and and I- I’m so sorry. You deserve better and i-”

His hand was over your mouth and you blinked in confusion looking up to see him pinching his nose, bottle still in hand. 

“Please silence your excuses.” Damian snapped, “I will not hear anyone talk about you that way.”

Something jolted in you and you froze, tears springing to your eyes, you nodded and he removed his hand. Fingers darting to wipe away tears you began to turn from him. His hand batted your fingers away and cupped one of your cheeks. The other still clutching the whiskey bottle half cupped the other. Damian pressed his forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes. 

“I care not that you are a coward. I care not that you are running away. I understand your unease, I understand your logic. But I disagree. I can do no better than you, my soulmate. My other half. I will be here for you and will ease your fears, I will drive your worries away and treat your scars. Emotional or otherwise. I am here for you. I do not know what I have to do for you to understand I am yours. Whole and solely yours. As you are mine. Please- I beg you. Tell me what I must do for you to allow me to love you to my fullest capacity.” 

Unable to look away, your heart taking control as that bitter bond turned soft and sweet you began to cry. Tears spilling down your face, you pressed your forehead more against his, words slipping from you before you could even think. 

“Be forever mine and let me be forever yours,” You whispered. 

Something softened in his eyes, a warmth in them you desperately wanted to see but hoped you never did. He began to lean in a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands shifted, the bottle falling from his grasps as he muttered,

“Was that ever in doubt?”

You tilted your head and his lips pressed against yours. He tasted of bitterness, a darkness that burned so sharply it had you clinging to him. Hands bunched in the cloth of his shirt you found yourself leaning in. His arm wrapped around your waist and as he pulled you in tighter, body shifting as he couldn’t get you close enough. As if there wasn’t a way to hold you where he was near enough. It was as if he wanted to shift-sinking-melting completely and totally into you. 

Air, you had no air left, but who needed air? He was here. His touch gentle and constant, reassuring as he pressed against you, gripping you as if he was terrified the second he let you go, you would disappear. And he was right. 

You broke apart both gasping for air and his grip loosened. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiled, a smile that sent your already raging heart racing. His hand rested against your cheek, fingers playing with your hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he muttered,

“I love you.” 

Your heart skittered and-

Tug, there was a tug a mother fucking tug that made your whole-body ache. One that stole the air you had just barely regained. One that sent shivers up your spine and knocked some sense into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. Standing up suddenly, your head spun. Blinking a few times as tears sprang into your eyes you shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” 

And with that, you bolted from the room. Faintly hearing Damian calling after you, you rush down the hall brushing past a butler whose name you think is Alfred. He gives you a soft smile and you nod, quickly wiping away the tears. He paused but you kept moving. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of here now. No matter what it took. 

Feet nearly tripping over the other you stumbled back into the ballroom. There would be hell to pay later, you knew it. But if you stayed any longer you could get hurt beyond repair. Allowing the feeling of everything that had just occurred loose, you promptly burst into tears as you stumbled towards your stunned parents. Your mother frantically moved to you as your father’s eyes widened and he began speaking to the people before them. 

“Y/N, Y/N honey we’re in front of a lot of people. Can this wait?” Your mother whispered as she got closer.

Sniffling you collapsed into your mother’s arms, feeling her embrace again for the first time in nearly a decade. Trembling as sobs escaped you, you were able to get out. 

“I want to go home. Please. Please. Let me go home.” 

At first, she didn’t reply, then she began moving you towards the door. 

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

She did not even turn in your father’s direction. After all, they had done what they always do, taken separate cars. Unable to quell the tears, you let your mother guide you out the door before he came to pull you back into fate’s vicious plot.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Two days, you hadn’t left your room in two days. Not that your parents had noticed, not that anyone really did. You doubted anyone noticed your absences from class. You hoped no one would notice truthfully. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face again. It was driving you crazy. So you locked yourself in your room and hoped-prayed-that these growing feelings would just die. Or maybe you could just die. That sounded like a solid solution as well. It was part of the reason why despite the late hour, despite living in Gotham you had unlocked and opened your window. 

There was a sound that awoke you, yanking you from the nightmares that never seemed to cease. And as you opened your eyes to the familiar shapes and silhouettes in your room you found one that did not belong there. 

"Who are you?" You whispered to the woman hiding in the shadows, not really caring if acknowledging her would lead her to strike. 

After all, who would lurk in the shadows of someone's room while they were sleeping unless you planned to kill them. It was a relief of sorts, that you were more than likely going to die soon. It would help you feel less guilt about Damian, about the situation that occurred a few nights before and the feelings that refused to listen to reason. 

Stepping into the moonlight the woman towered before you. Half her face tilted towards the light and you blinked twice almost recognizing it- but- but that couldn't be possible. There was no way you knew this woman. You hardly knew anyone, let alone an murder or assassin who would sneak into sleeping peoples rooms. 

"You don't have to worry about that.” She replied in a soft voice, her accent reminding you of something-something…something! 

You just couldn’t quite place your finger on what though. It nagged and nipped at your mind, tugging and swirling in faint recognition you could not connect. 

The woman took a step forward, her black hair swaying as she crossed her arms, her tone sharp and barbed, “I think who you are is a more important question.”

Her gaze did not leave you and you adjusted your blanket before glancing towards the open window almost blankly saying, 

"Nobody special I can assure you."

This caused the woman’s posture to relax a little. She hummed slightly as you crossed your legs and set your elbows on your knees. 

"Hmm, really?"

Nodding you rested your face in your hands as you looked at her shadowy figure. She seemed kind, in a way. She was at least talking to you before killing you. That was something was it not? 

"Just the byproduct of fate's meddling and destructive hands."

"Ah, your parents are soulmates?' Her stance relaxed even more and you noted how from what you could see her outfit was nothing like the things the Gotham vigilantes wore. 

"Unwilling but yes, soulmates." 

It was more of a snort than a reply, but it didn’t seem to phase the woman as she rested herself on your desk the moon light allowing you to see the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose. Familiar features that made your gut churn. 

"Oh, oh. I see. They did not choose-"

"To have me?” You interrupted with a sigh, shrugging you nodded, “I guess you could say that."

Silence followed and you saw the woman’s eyes narrow. She crossed her arms again, stance tightening. 

"... you do not seem the type to share your innermost troubles with a stranger, why are you talking to me?"

Pulling your face from your hands you gave her a shrug as a yawn slipped from your lips, "Well, for one I think you're here to kill me and two... I've needed to tell someone for a while. Why not a perfect stranger?"

"Your parent's fate troubles you that much?" Her voice seemed to begin carrying concern, which only troubled you because it made you think there would be a possibility she wouldn’t kill you. 

"They are living proof- hell I am living proof that soulmates shouldn't be forced together…” You paused crossing your arms with a scowl, “and because fate is cruel, I have a soulmate too. Despite how awful they are."

"Your soulmate is awful?"

Something in her tone said she did not believe what she was asking in the slightest. Which was true, yet it still caused that buzzing familiarity to ring just a bit louder. 

"n-no, he's not.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed deeply, running your hands along your face, “ He's kind and- and all I could ask for but- but... how do I know he's all I want? How do I know any of this- any of my feelings are mine? How do I know that it isn't fate pulling my strings and wanting me to dance? How do I know he won’t leave? That the bond will only become apparent when we fight and won’t exist otherwise? When the love is gone and only the bond remains? How will I know that I won’t be abandoned again? That I won't be hurt again? That I will gain a love that will last? I won’t.  Not to mention even if I didn't like him... I would have to be with him."

"No,” The woman scoffed, “you wouldn't, dear."

"Yes, I would. My parents- they tried and now- now I live in the shambles of a home. They are together because of that damned bond even though they hate each other." You were crying now, of course you were, "fate does not like to be ignored and I don't like to be told what to do."

Angrily grabbing a tissue you blew your nose, faintly hearing the woman laugh. From what you could see, she had a look in her eyes that seemed soft- understanding. One you most certainly did not expect your killer to have. 

"Oh my, really?" She mumbled head turned towards the window. 

"Yes! I'd rather live in a hell I have control of, a hell I made rather than one fate forced upon me. If- if I ignore it enough... I heard it will fade for him, I- I will still feel it but- but because he tried, he will be spared. He'll have a chance- one I never had. And though- though I can't truly tell if these feelings are mine, it's all I want. I love him. I love him”

You stopped yourself trembling as you said it yet again, “I love him.”

Nodding you continued on, “and… I want him to be happy without me. Because- because I won't give way to fate, not even for him."

"Hmmm. I have a question for you.” 

“Yes?” You pulled the tissue box closer to you sure more tears would come. 

“Do you really want to die?”

“Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, waving a hand, “It’s just, it hardly seems to me that you want to die. Rather it seems like you want to live.”

"What- I, I’m sorry I-." You were at a loss for words. 

She was smiling as she replied with a shrug, “You have told me of a cause you wish to live for, no? To fight against the soulmate bond. While I personally disagree with your choice, I hardly think dying will do anything other than let the bond win.”

“Wha-... I-,” You sputtered, mainly because what she said made sense. 

It made an insane amount of sense. So much so that it had your head spinning. Why exactly did you think dying was the best option? You may not have the best life, but it was yours right? 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” The whisper escaped not entirely directed at the woman but rather just as a declaration in general. 

The tears on your face felt silly and you blew your nose again as the woman sighed. Causing silence to spin about the room until she remarked,

"I believe I should be the one apologizing."

You laughed, wiping the tears from your face, "Why?"

"Because I'm not here to kill you."

Something in you skipped a beat and you shook your head. Of course she isn’t. Who would want you dead after all. You hadn’t done anything that would cause a reason to be killed.

"Oh darn." You snorted, rubbing the back of your hand across your face, "Here I am looking like a fool asking for something I don’t even want from someone who can’t even give it to me. Fate is cruel… Though life does seem crueler."

"Yes," She muttered looking over her shoulder at the window, "indeed it is."

A figure loomed where she looked, a familiar figure in green, yellow and red. The woman smiled at you again and she moved towards him patting him on the shoulder before climbing out the window. 

“It was nice to meet you Y/N.” 

Blinking in confusion you latched onto the vigilante who was now looming in between your room and the outside, "Robin? What are you doing here?"

He sighed, the woman disappearing as he rested on the window frame, "I am afraid it is quite difficult for me to explain at the moment."

"Wha-.... wait-wait."

In the silence of the night, with the slight breeze trailing in from the window where Robin was perched, you felt a tug. A heart wrenching tug you had felt just the other night. A tug that sent aches all over and made your throat tighten.

"...you're-oh."

Biting, you lip you fought off tears as he slowly entered your room. Breathing deeply, you began picking at your fingers before you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

He was right in front of you as tears spilled down your cheeks and through sharp stabs of pain you tightly smiled remarking,

"...hi Damian."

He was silent and you bit down harder, weakly you took in a breath. His voice was soft in reply,

"Y/N... are you- are you alright?"

You didn't know what to say. After all, he must have heard something... then again, he might not have but-

"How-" Your voice cracked as you avoided looking at him despite him being so close, but it was hard as you could feel the heat from his body, "how much... How much did you hear?"

His was quiet and you squeezed your eyes shut, heart dropping as you tasted blood. Pain dancing across your lips and air fighting to leave you. A tiny sob escaped you and you took a ragged breath in as you opened your eyes facing him. Rob-no Damian raised a hand and brushed it against your face before he leaned in. His lips almost pressed against your ear he said,

"I heard everything."

Tag List: @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @legendarylearner18

[demoniccak-e]

omg you wanna hear something super awesome about my good old friend... eric.....??

so basically, the thing about eric, is that if you like nearly die in an extremely obscure way- like way out of police territory- then eric will come along.

he'll be a little weird, a little strange, but it's okay because.... chris...... his partner is there to balance it out!

now, you have to remember, eric will judge you in every way another person had never, like a lot. it will be insanely in an old timey language but some how you'll be able to understand.

then chris right, he's the typa guy that'll make you chuckle here and there but he will always make you look absolutely insane in public and you will need to order an extra pair of lungs.

anyways, here's the kicker (something super awesome™), is that there was this um. well we can just leave it as a stairwell. and they were in a rush you know, cases and stuff, and erm. so.

so chris is like really trying to rush eric because you know, they gotta go, and eric stops and yells at him for taking care of him. and get this- chris hit's 'im with a, "sorry, no version of this where i don't come get you, is there?" and then eric is like. okay. i guess nows the time.

and eric hits him with a "i love you." and at first chris is like "yeah, i love you too, come on now" and eric is like "no no no no no, chris. I love you."

and you don't get to know the rest because well now theres this new character called the red capitalism.

[sassypossum]

Unexpected

Loki x Reader • enemies to lovers

You never asked to be put on assignment with the one being you can't stand, and you certainly didn't ask to be called a shrew...

“Whatever anomaly you thought was out here Stark, is gone, if it ever was here.” Leaning forward in his chair, Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Huh, my sensors have never been wrong before.” Tony’s voice crackled through the responder.

“I’m telling you there isn’t anything out here.” Loki hissed into the microphone again.

“You win some you lose some I guess, bring her on home, Reindeer games.” Flicking off the switch, Loki rolled his eyes at the nickname. He’d always found Stark’s pension for absurd names taxing. Turning towards the window of the shuttle Loki took a moment to observe as stars and meteors whirred past them through the expanse of space. Flipping a switch, Loki placed the craft on autopilot and leaned back in his chair.  and   Tap, tap. Loki closed his eyes and shifted in his seat.  Tap, tap.

“Can you please stop.” Loki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Turning in your seat you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Stop what?” Tap, tap. Loki’s eyes drifted to the pen in your hand.

“That incessant clicking.” Raising a brow, you rubbed the top of the pen and gave him a sly grin.

“Does it bother you, Loki?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back towards the monitor in front of you. Loki leaned back in his chair and regarded you suspiciously. As the seconds ticked by, and you did nothing more than reach for one of the tablets, Loki closed his eyes and relished the silence. Tap, tap.

“Honestly, Y/N.” Loki leapt from his chair and towered over you. “Is it absolutely necessary for you to make that awful noise.” You slowly placed down your pen and folded your arms. Leaning forward in your chair, you came nose to nose with Loki and challenged his glower with an equally scathing look of your own.

“Maybe.” It had been like this ever since the two had met. You couldn’t recall a single time that you’d seen eye to eye or agreed on anything. Raising a brow, you took in his measure and smirked. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and fire flashed in his eyes. Yes, you’d been at each other like cats and dogs since the beginning, and as far as you were concerned, it could stay like that.

“You know what you are, Y/N?” Loki eased back, folding his arms. You felt your confidence waiver as you watched his features go bland. Though his face remained impassive, it was the spark in his eyes that brought you to your feet in challenge.

“What, Loki?” The pair were so lost in your irritation that youfailed to notice a blip on the screen.

“A shrew.” He whispered leaning closer. Your jaw dropped and you took a step back.

“I’m sorry, did you just call me a shrew?!

“If the shrew fits.” Loki grinned down at you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Placing a hand over his heart, he shook his head before looking back up at you slowly. “I do believe the expression goes, ‘if the shoe fits.” Folding your arms, you barked out a laugh.

“Oh, yeah, well, Loki, you know what you are?”

“I’m dying to know.” Loki chuckled in amusement. Stepping closer so you were chest to chest, you glanced down at where your arms almost touched and leaned your head back and narrowed your eyes until they were practically slits. Leaning forward, he all but brushed your nose with his. “I’m waiting, darling.” A hitching sound in your throat drew his attention from your eyes to your lips. He’d never noticed how soft they looked. He wondered how they might feel against his…

“You’re a pain in my-“A piercing whistle split the air around you, drawing you out of your little trance. The shuttle began violently shaking, and you locked eyes with Loki just before the lights flickered out. Taking in your frantic expression, Loki reached out towards you.

“Y/N, take my hand!” Stretching out his hand, he shouted over the rattling sound of something pelting the hull of the shuttle. Your eyes flickered towards the ceiling before locking back on Loki. He stood with his hand outstretched, face firmed into a reassuring expression. Feeling the shuttle lurch sharply to the left, you blindly fished for his hand. A strong grip enfolded your hand just as the shuttle lurched to the right, sending you straight into the admittedly firm form of your cabin mate.  You’d hardly had time to think about the warm arms that were wrapped around you before the cabin was engulfed in a bright light.

Loki tensed, wrapping his arms more tightly about you. Burying your face in his shoulder, you wrapped your own arms about his waist and clung to him. The light seemed to be growing brighter, and as it brightened, a strange sensation flowed through your body. Peeling your face away from his shirt, you looked into Loki’s eyes to see your own panic mirrored in his.

“Did you,” He nodded wordlessly.  With a final rattle, the bright light dissipated, and the shuttle came violently to a stop. It wasn’t until the lights began to flicker back on and the alarms stopped that either of you realized that you were still wrapped around each other. Jumping apart, each of you attempted to correct your appearances. Turning away, you fiddled with the buttons on your shirt, all the while keenly aware of Loki’s eyes on you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” His voice was laced with concern.

“Fine.” Clearing your throat, you rested a hand on the back of your chair and began examining the monitors. Still sensing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you, tentatively you turned and looked at him over your shoulder. A lump caught in your throat at the blank look on his face. “Are you fine?”

“Perfectly.” His eyes met yours again. Something new flickered in his eyes, and while you weren’t exactly sure what it was, it started something flickering in your stomach, and you didn’t like that.

“Don’t look at me like that.” That might have come out more sharply than you’d intended. Wincing, you turned away to look back at the monitors.

“Look at you like what?”

“Never mind, Loki.” Leaning over the back of the chair, you squinted at something blipping on the screen.

“I’ll not be brushed off like an insect, Y/N.” Loki hissed, wrapping his fingers around your arm and spinning you so that you were once again nose to nose. “Like what?” Narrowing your eyes, you glanced at his grip on your arm and jerked free of him.

“Loki? Y/N? Are you there?” Turning away again, you fumbled for the transmitter microphone.

“Tony, we’re here.” A relieved sigh could be heard from the other side.

“Thank God, are you alright?” Glancing over your shoulder you noticed Loki had taken up his position at the controls.

“Yeah, we should be back in a couple of hours.” Another sigh.

“See you then.” Flipping the switch, you leaned back in your chair and swiveled to look at Loki.

“Loki,” Holding up a hand he turned towards you.

“I am too exhausted for anymore of your prattle.”

“My prattle? What is that supposed to mean, Loki.”

“Y/N.” Ignoring the warning note in his voice, you rose from your chair, and along with you rose your voice.

“No, you know what, you’ve been on my case for months now.” Rushing forward you stopped short before him and jabbed a finger in his face. “What’s your problem, Odinson.” Loki looked cooly from your finger to your firey expression.

“Agent L/N, right now my problem is you and your soul sucking attempts at an argument.” Now it was his turn to rise from his seat. Taking a step forward, he pushed you back with his form looming menacingly over yours. Retreating you dropped into your chair. “Now, as to your problem, Agent L/N,” Pausing, Loki leaned forward resting his arm on the back of your chair.

“My problem?” You blinked incredulously, tensing as he brought his face centimeters from yours. The dark grin that crossed his face did nothing to ease your worries.

“Your problem, Agent,” You bristled when he brought his thumb to graze over your bottom lip. Watching the motion of his finger’s path, Loki continued. “Is that you clearly haven’t, shall we say, had your rice cooked in a while.” Pulling back, he gave you a triumphant smile. Flexing your jaw, you felt your face go florid.

“Loki Odinson are you suggesting that my problem is,” Sputtering, you couldn’t finish the sentiment.

“That you need a good romp in the sheets, darling, but as I said, that’s your problem.” Folding his arms, Loki shrugged and grinned again. Jumping from your seat you met him toe to toe and crossed your arms.

“And I suppose you think you’re the answer to my problem?” Loki’s eyes danced with amusement as he leaned towards you.

“Darling, I would dance for our colleagues in the nude while singing bawdy tavern songs before I would put my cock in you.”

“Why I never,” You sputtered.

“That’s obvious.” After several attempts to open and close you mouth with no sound coming out, you huffed and stomped back to your seat. Thankfully the next two hours passed with no more words exchanged between you. As soon as your shuttle landed, you stormed through the doors without a second look at Loki.

“Y/N!” You tensed before being lifted off the ground into a back breaking hug by Thor.

“Thor.” Gasping for air, you tapped several times on your friend’s arm. Quickly he placed you on the ground but didn’t completely release you.

“Duchess, glad to see you made it back in one piece.” Tony walked towards the shuttle, glancing up at you from his tablet.

“Glad to be back in one piece.” Glancing towards the shuttle you noticed Loki exiting and quickly averted your gaze.

“Once you two get cleared by Bruce, we’ll need to go over what happened up there.” Against your will, your eyes flickered back to Loki only to find his already trained on you.

“I’d like for those interviews to be separate if that’s all the same to you, Tony.” You gave Loki a final scathing look before turning back to Tony. Furrowing his brows, he tucked the tablet under his arm and hooked a hand into his pants pocket.

“Everything okay?” Again you glared at Loki.

“Ask him.” Turning you started towards the lab, Thor hot on you trail.

“Everything looks fine.” Bruce unwound the pressure cuff from your arm.

“The ‘zing’ I felt when the bright light flashed through the cabin?” You paused from swinging your legs over the edge of the med bed and cocked your head to the side. Folding the pressure cuff, Bruce stopped to look up at you.

“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but if you develop new symptoms, come back to see me, okay?” Nodding your head, you gave him a warm smile.

“So I’m gonna live, doc?” Bruce chuckled.

“I’m afraid so, Y/N.” Groaning playfully, you swung off the side of the med bed, and as your feet hit the floor, Loki came strolling into the lab. Bristling, you diverted your attention back towards Bruce.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

“Of course, Y/N.” He’d turned his attention back to writing something on a clipboard. Averting your eyes, you started to pass Loki when you were overcome with a wave of lightheadedness.

“Careful, Y/N.” Loki whispered, reaching out to steady you with a hand on your arm. Narrowing your eyes up at him, you jerked away from his touch and staggered.

“You stay away from me, Odinson, and I’ll stay away from you.” Gritting your teeth, you pressed a hand to your head and glared at him.

"Fine by me." He hissed, clenching his fist by his side. Loki watched as you attempted to march out of the lab on unstable legs.

“By the Norns, Loki, what did you do to vex her so?” Thor broke the silence, sliding up behind his brother.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Thor.” Loki folded his arms and kept a concerned eye trained on your retreating form as the lab doors flapped shut.

[montereybayaquarium]

“Long live the king (crab).”

This dramatic Lion King interpretocean brought to you by pelagic red crabs! When pelagic red crabs are juveniles, they prefer hanging out in the surface waters—everywhere the light touches. As they mature, they transition from a planktonic lifestyle to a benthic one on the seafloor. You could say as they grow up, they tend to settle down.

[fall0utmind]

MEDICAL LEAK AU PT 5 UP NOW

AO3 here

Gonna link pt 1-4 below tomorrow (I need to sleep) but for now, find them on my medical leak au tag on my page :)

I am so fucking sorry for the delay!!

Work has been manic, I basically rewrote this whole thing cause I hated it and now I am sick - woooooo

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I'm actually proud of this one, after the long rewrite.

Please, please, please come talk to me about what you think and what you wanna see!!! I need motivation to finish this.

Normal tags and warnings apply :)

(Tw/ suicidal thoughts, overdoses)

Alex had warned them that this is how Marc deals with things. He bottles it up until he can’t anymore, and then he goes somewhere private where he can lick his wounds and let himself fall apart. Watching Marc be so vulnerable, his usual mask of untouchable indifference falling away, is devastating. Jorge holds Marc closer as he trembles, small tremors wracking his frame. He looks incredibly young, curled up in between the older riders. Marc is completely lost in his thoughts now, distress radiating off him. He has been mostly silent, apart from the occasional miserable noises. Now though, he begins to cry, his face moving to press into Jorge’s shoulder as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, uncaring of who he’s clinging to. Marc and Jorge have never been that close, but the older man feels protective of him, in part because the 2015 fallout centred so much around his championship win, but also because of Dani’s soft spot for Marc. Jorge knows it was a big sign of trust for Marc to allow him to stay and witness this, especially from a man who is usually so guarded.

It’s unclear what Marc is imagining in the depths of his mind, but he has begun to slur words in between his sobs. Most of the words are incoherent, but Valentino’s and Alex’s names are clear, alongside the interchanging wrecked pleas to both end his suffering and let him live. Seeing so clearly the devastation Marc has suffered is horrific for them all, but Alex most of all looks gutted, like his heart has been shattered. He has heard those pleas before, back in 2015 when he found Marc and when he had saved his life.

It is this that prompts Jorge to gently shake Marc to awareness, knowing the pain is too much, too dark. Once the medication wears off, he will be ashamed of his weakness. It does not matter how natural or understandable his reaction is, especially after all the shit he has had to deal with; he hates vulnerability. The only thing his friends can do is sit with him during the fallout.

“Marc”

The younger man stirs slightly, choking on a breath as he sobs. He clutches at Jorge weakly, trying to catch his breath in between his cries.

“Cazzo, Marc, you’re ok, you’re ok.”

*

Marc returns to his body with a pounding head and a sore throat, which only ever occurs when he has cried himself dry. He’s a mess; the memories which assaulted him are still at the forefront of his mind, making him feel sick to the stomach. He is in the weird stage where the medicine is wearing off but still making him feel hazy; everything is soft around the edges. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He rubs at his face and notices his cheeks are wet. He would usually be mortified by the idea of crying in front of everyone, but he can't bring himself to care in the circumstances. He feels wrung out and over-tired. He knows his eyes will be red and his face blotchy and he frowns at the thought. Dani breaks the silence first, handing Marc some water.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but also somehow better. I’m sorry for losing it like that-”

Dovi interrupts him before he can finish that thought, fury simmering in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I don’t care what he taught you about having to hide away, but you don’t have to with us. We know you’re strong, but you don’t have to be strong right now. Not here, not with us.”

Marc gulps back more tears and instead smiles sadly at Dovi, unwilling to touch upon the reference to Valentino. Instead, he turns to look at his younger brother, who looks distraught; it makes him frown slightly. He hates the thought of causing his brother’s sadness. In Marc’s opinions, it is the worst thing he can do, and he has done it often in the last few years. Guilt spikes through him. Alex catches his eyes and shakes his head, knowing exactly what Marc is thinking, as fine-tuned as they are to each other's emotions.

“It’s not your fault, germà. I would take all your pain if I could.”

It makes Marc’s heart break a little. He addresses all of them, his little group of friends, of protectors. These people have seen him at his worst; they have refused to leave when Marc was on rock bottom, and they stuck with him when the world hurled abuse at him. Without them, he would be unmoored in the ocean, drowned by the waves.

“Thank you for staying.”

It’s Jorge who answers.

“Of course.”

*

The waning effects of the medication become clear as the bruises splashed across Marc’s body begin to ache. His shoulder is sore, and the muscles surrounding the joint are tight and stiff, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Alex catches his brother’s poorly concealed winces and hands Marc the rest of his approved dose without a comment. Marc tries to protest; the thought of having more drugs, of needing more, makes him feel queasy. Marc’s relationship with the medication is still rocky. It makes him feel weak and defenceless. It reminds him of dependence, hospital visits, and overdoses. Every time he has those little white pills in his hands, he sees Alex’s blurry face hovering over him, shouting his name, his panic choking him. He hates it. But he knows that if he wants to sleep tonight, he needs to take the stronger stuff that he is prescribed. After Jerez and his arm, normal ibuprofen doesn’t do much for his pain. Alex's eyes are pleading, desperately attempting to convey that Marc is safe here. That he can be vulnerable; he doesn’t have to sit with the pain. The others watch on sadly. Dani feels guilt clawing at him that he didn't notice in 2015 and beyond. When they were still teammates, Marc wouldn’t take the pain medication he was given. Dani always thought it was some weird pleasure of the pain that came from racing and crashing. And then later, perhaps a sick self-punishment for making a mistake. Although he now realises the latter is partially true, he is kicking himself for not digging up a further meaning. He’s not the first to notice Marc’s aversion to medication; it had been a weekly fight with Honda between 2015 and 2020. Nobody was aware of the reason. Why Marc went from hating the sight of the tablets to taking as many as he possibly could after Jerez was less of a mystery. For Marc Marquez, when choosing between not riding or traumatic memories, he’ll always choose the emotional anguish. He swallows the pills.

Alex smiles gently at him, pushing a container of pre-prepared food towards him. Marc turns up his nose; he had already eaten something earlier.

“Eat, you’ll be high as hell if you don’t”

“Not hungry”

Marc pouts, and Christ Alex forgot how obstinate and immature his brother could be, especially after taking his medication. The image of 31-year-old Marc behaving like a toddler makes Dovi chuckle in amusement.

“Marc, you have to eat something-”

“No.”

“Marc, for God’s sake, you can’t just not eat.”

“But I don’t want that. I’ll have a protein bar.”

Their fight is interrupted by a loud knock at the door and a voice calling from outside.

“Marc?”

Anxiety grips Marc, argument forgotten. Instead, he imagines another fervent Rossi fan clawing at their door. Alex jumps to his feet, freezing as the voice speaks again.

“Marc, come on, I know you’re in there, the lights are on.”

Confusion engulfs Alex as he approaches the front of the motorhome, trying to place the somewhat familiar voice. He cautiously unlocks the door and peeks outside, blinking against the darkness. Shock colours his features, his eyes widening as he stares before he comes to his senses and attempts to slam the door shut. The only thing keeping it from closing completely is the foot of their surprise visitor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex practically growls

“Is Marc here? I want to talk to him. Please.”

Dani joins him at the door, ready to help if things get out of hand. Pecco glances between the two Spanish men before letting out a melancholy sigh. Bez is fidgeting behind the world champion, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Alex definitely fancies slamming the door then, even more unimpressed by the sight of the younger Italian.

“I hate that all of this has happened, and I hate even more that we’ve been pitted against each other for no reason. I just want to talk; please can I come in?”

Pecco looks so forlorn standing outside their motorhome, his face open and honest. Marc must recognise the voice more than Alex does, as he calls out to his brother.

“Let him in, Alex.”

Marc is most likely not thinking clearly, and Alex is on the verge of saying no. Instead, with a disgruntled sigh, he steps aside to let Pecco in, looks at Bez, and then grudgingly concedes that he cannot tell him to fuck off. After shooting an exasperated look at Dani, he follows him back to the group of athletes lounging on their couches.

It turns out 7 fully grown adults are a few too many in the cramped space. Pecco takes the empty seat next to where Alex has sat back down, Bez awkwardly squeezing next to him. Marc stares with wide, clouded eyes, his hackles raised; he wasn’t expecting Bez. Although his relationship with Pecco is fairly neutral (probably due to his ambivalence to the whole Valentino situation) Bez and Marc have never been on good terms, the younger always jumping at the opportunity to defend his mentor. Marc frowns at them, untrusting, while his friends protectively shift closer to him. Clearly, from their baffled expressions, Bezzecchi and Bagnaia did not expect to see Marc huddled with Andrea Dovizioso and Jorge Lorenzo on the sofa.

*

Pecco is trying his hardest to comprehend the scene before him; he had not anticipated meeting the three retired riders alongside the brothers. He tilts his head slightly, examining the way Jorge and Dovi appear exasperated but pleased to have a clingy Marc Marquez sprawled on them. Marc himself looks pretty content at their proximity, which is strange; he didn’t think Marc was that close to either of them. Bez and he have clearly intruded, obvious from the disarray of everyone in the room. Marc has been crying, which is surprising in and of itself. Additionally, he appears to have taken some pretty strong painkillers – unsurprising after his crash but surprising after the most recent news reports. He turns towards Alex to voice this, but the younger Marquez beats him to it.

“He doesn’t need supervision these days, but if he is bad or, you know, unhappy, I keep his medication and watch over his dosing. He’s fine.”

Pecco nods in understanding, some of his concern lessening. An awkward kind of quiet falls over the group, no one knowing what to say. Strangely, Marc cannot guess the meaning for their visit, too used to other riders only turning up to pick a fight. Pecco is not one for dramatics, preferring to reign in his emotions, unlike his mentor and his friend. Marc breaks the silence first, curiosity beating pride.

“What are you here for, Bagnaia?”

That earns him a wry smile.

“I want to know if you’re okay.”

“Why do you care?”

The others tense in anticipation as Pecco visibly steals himself. He has found the last 24 hours difficult, fighting an internal battle of morality versus loyalty ever since the fateful press conference.

“I don’t hate you, Marc, and I don’t want to. Honestly, I think with time, maybe next year, we could be friends. I respect your talent, and yes, of course, sometimes I think you ride like a maniac, you take risks, and you are brutal on the track. But that is what makes you so good, so impressive. It is why you have 8 championships; I would be a fool to disregard that. Not only that but you love fiercely. I have seen the way you treat your friends and family, and I admire that.”

Marc thinks he might be dreaming; he pinches himself to be sure. Jorge notices and pushes his hand away with a scowl.

“Don’t lie. You all hate me because of him and his lies. I do not need you messing with my head as well. I see the way your academy copies him, echoing his venom, believing every word and taking his side. My life was hell back then, and you weren’t there to witness it. He ruined my life and tore everything from me. I know he thinks that I ruined his career and whatever other poison the man he calls a best friend fed him. I know he was angry and upset. But I was so young. It has been a decade. He won’t leave me alone. Don’t you understand? I raced to die; I risked it all in a passive attempt to not return to the pits. I just wanted him to look back at me; I wanted my hero to forgive me. Then after Jerez, when he didn’t even say anything and I gave up hope, I just took medication to cope. But Valentino and your precious academy can’t see that. No, instead I am reckless and selfish, only thinking of myself. It is not fair; none of it is fair.”

He feels Jorge tense underneath him and that revelation and knows that he has shared too much, but it is too late now. Pecco is observing him with sad eyes and Bezzecchi looks horrified.

“No, Marc, I do not hate you. I am sorry for the loathing you have felt. People like to push Valentino’s legacy onto me. We are not the same person. This is not my battle, and I refuse to be sucked into Vale’s fights from before I was even on the track. It is stupid.”

His eyes are glazed over and wet as he looks directly into Marc's. The anguish in them makes Marc flinch.

“My sister fought similar battles; it was the hardest time of my life.”

He meets Alex’s eyes, sharing a look of understanding at their joint hurt.

“I know you don’t believe me; I see that you have been hurt before. I hate that you have experienced such awful things, and I hate even more how you are being treated for it now. I am sure Alex feels how I do about Carola; it was the worst pain in the world. I would have given my life ten times over for her. It still hurts you and maybe it will always be raw, but I wish it was not like this.”

Bez lays a hand on Pecco’s shoulder, a show of silent support, prompting Marc to turn towards the youngest Italian.

“And you, Bezzecchi? I know you hate me; you have made that abundantly clear, so why are you here?”

Bez looks away at the accusation, guilt filling him. It is not in his nature to question someone he is loyal to.

“I- I realised I maybe took too much at face value. It is true that I did not like you, or more so the way you ride. But I also didn’t understand you or what you were going through. I guess that I want to make amends for that. And I did not want to leave Franci alone.”

Marc hums, considering Bez’s offer, before he nods, too exhausted and intoxicated to give it any more thought. Whatever, if Bezzecchi wants to be here, then fine, so long as he doesn’t cause any more pain. Rather, Marc returns his attention to Pecco with genuineness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your sister. It is difficult. I hope she’s in a better place now.”

Pecco’s eyes widen in shock, and Marc huffs out a laugh.

“She’s doing better now, thank you. I think you will get on with her well next year; she comes to all the races with me and the team.”

The Italian smiles tentatively, and Marc smiles back, quietly pleased about this admission from his future teammate. Bez glances between them with a frown, still unsure about the tentative truce they have formed. Instead, he turns towards Dovi, who is still eyeing him suspiciously, and shoots him his very best puppy eyes. The older man rolls his eyes at the display before roping Bez and Pecco into a conversation in rapid Italian about the season so far. Dani and Jorge are whispering quietly, the latter still petting Marc’s hair gently. The atmosphere has returned to its tranquil state, once more lulling Marc into a hazy headspace.

Concern is vibrating through Alex as he watches his brother doze. He can’t help but feel like this has all been a little bit too easy. The boys had looked flustered when they turned up, like they had hurried over, as if something had happened just beforehand. He tries to shake off the feeling, standing up and heading into the kitchenette. He grabs a protein bar from the cupboards and chucks it at Marc when he re-enters the main room, causing his brother to startle and glare at him. Dovi snickers at their antics; of course Alex had not forgotten about their previous scrap, much to Marc’s annoyance.

“Eat it.”

Marc scowls but dutifully rips open the packet and starts munching the bar, not before sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“So mature, Marc.”

This prompts a fit of giggles from the older as he continues to eat. Bez and Pecco look on in bewilderment at this version of Marc, the drugs making him more relaxed than they have ever seen. They are shuffling awkwardly as if they’d be kicked out at any minute, feeling a sensation of imposition at seeing the soft person in front of them. Marc rolls his eyes, looking strung out but content.

“Stay?”

And that settles it.

*

In all his stubborn glory, Marc refuses to move off his friends, citing comfort and fatigue as justifications. Alex grumbles good-naturedly about his perpetual clinginess on pain medication, prompting Marc to snuggle closer to Jorge, rubbing his face into the older man’s shoulder and startling a laugh out of him. Pecco looks at Dovi questioningly, his forehead furrowed into a frown, looking for any indication of jealousy in the older Italian but not detecting any. Jorge instantly notices and does not attempt to conceal his laughter laughter.

“Do not worry about it. Dovi hogs Marc the rest of the time; I am allowed him now whilst he is still high as a kite”

Marc pulls away to pout at him, denial on his lips. Before he can begin his argument, though, Alex speaks up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Tell me about it; you should have seen them earlier. Dovi was practically eating Marc alive with his eyes; it was fucking ridiculous.”

Marc goes bright red at this comment, spluttering out an excuse. Dovi just looks unabashedly smug, meeting Alex’s eyes.

“Hey, when there’s an attractive shirtless man on the sofa when you enter the room, what else are you meant to do?”

Marc directs his glare towards Dovi, an unimpressed frown on his face at the betrayal, but frankly, with the medication softening him, he just looks cute. Dani and Jorge are cracking up at the thought, which only causes Marc to get more annoyed, his cheeks flaming hot.

“Ah, I did not know that you two-”

Both Dovi and Marc jump to correct that assumption. Stumbling over each other to assure Pecco that they are not dating, despite what it looks like. Dani has been suspiciously quiet for most of the conversation, only now turning towards Marc with an insolent smile, meaning that he’s about to say something that Marc won’t like.

“Didn’t stop you from fucking in the past.”

You could hear a pin drop. Alex is whipping his head between his brother and Dovi, his jaw dropped in shock. Marc somehow goes even redder before shoving his face into his hands and groaning, confirming Dani’s statement and prompting the entire group to lose it. Dovi just looks proud and completely unashamed, turning back to Jorge and Dani with a raised eyebrow.

“Like you two can talk.”

“Touché.” replies Jorge with a shrug, hand on Dani’s knee.

Alex feels like he’s losing grip on reality,

“When? When the hell did you two hook up?”

“Ah, 2017, 2018, on and off” answers Dovi.

The others are laughing hard now, even Bez and Pecco giggling at the horrified expression on the youngest Marquez’s face.

Alex speaks once more, recovering quickly as though he is clearly used to his brother’s antics. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice,

“Jesus Marc, what is it with you and shagging older men?”

Pecco chokes at that comment, wheezing a breath through the shock. The others are basically in tears and even Bez is grinning. Marc just looks at his brother’s smirking face and promptly lobs a pillow in his direction - it hits him in the face, causing Marc to crack up. When they all catch their breath, Pecco broaches something that has played on his mind all day.

“Valentino had mentioned something earlier, about you and Dovi-”

Pecco immediately realises his mistake in bringing up Vale. The room pauses awkwardly, and all eyes turn to Marc, whose eyes are still foggy, his limbs lose. It causes him to speak without thinking.

“Ah, he is being a dick; he saw me in Dovi’s jumper and jumped to conclusions. Lord knows why he cares.”

“When the fuck did you see Valentino?”

“Ah, just before the sprint race, he cornered me, spilling some bullshit about ruining the race and being attention-seeking. You know what he is like. He always has loved to make sure I feel small.”

He turns his doe eyes towards Alex,

“It still hurts to hear him say those things about me. It hurts to look into his eyes and see fury and hatred. Not as much as it did then, but still”

Pecco realises then just how out of it Marc must be to let that slip. He gulps, uncomfortable with the pain in his voice, pain that he would usually hide away from the world. Bez looks away. Watching tonight’s interactions brings some new perspective to the academy riders- the quiet beginnings of doubt about their unquestioned deity. It’s difficult to reconcile Vale, their selfless teacher and friend, to Valentino Rossi, who had a rivalry with Marc so fierce the younger had been left picking up the pieces. The Marc in front of them is not the dangerous, deceiving rider they were taught about. This Marc looks at his brother and friends like they hold the universe; he is strong but soft around the edges. He is funny and unabashed in his affection. He loves fiercely and is loved unconditionally in return, a true sign of his character.

Alex is looking at his brother with such sadness in his eyes, reflecting his pain. He does not respond to Marc; he just holds out his hand. It is Jorge who speaks instead.

“I was so angry at Valentino in 2015. So angry at myself for not warning you. I saw it coming from miles away because Rossi could never deal with threats to his success.”

Bez begins to open his mouth, but Pecco elbows him, hard, well aware that now is not the time to stick up for their mentor, no matter how difficult it is to hear. Jorge goes to continue but is interrupted by another forceful knock on the door; it’s Alex who yet again opens it, finding himself face to face with an uncomfortable-looking Luca. The night is getting weirder and weirder.

“Is Pecco here? Or Bez? Nobody knows where they’ve gone.”

Alex opens the door wider, letting Luca see the two Italians on the sofas.

Luca steps inside, shutting the door softly behind him after glances outside worriedly. He gives the boys a pointed looks as he urges them up.

“Come on, we need to go!”

“What why?”

Bez was just starting to feel comfortable in this company; he doesn’t particularly want to leave right now. Luca looks away,

“Look, we just really need to go.”

There is another harsh knock on the door before it flies open. Valentino is standing at the threshold, staring blankly at the spectacle before him.

“What the fuck is going on?”