#expecting the bare minimum to go well or at least okay and being surprised when it doesnt.

[lemotmo]

Okay I'm going to partially tell on myself. I am new, as in the Buck/T kiss showed up all over my dash, as did all of Oliver's interviews and I just thought he was the yummiest most delightful human being I had ever seen and heard (my god is accent is heaven) new. And I thought that first kiss was really well done. It was a great scene. Now, that being said, I didn'twant to jump into a show that was seven seasons into the story with zero context, except the stuff I had been seeing on my dash for years. So I started from the beginning, with the full intent and excitement of getting to T in season 7. Imagine my surprise when he popped up occasionally in earlier seasons. His only good part was when we were supposed to believe that Chim could lift him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, haha. That was great.

Anyway by the time I made it to season 7, it was too late. I had just watched 5 seasons of Buck and Eddie. There was zero room for T to compete on any level. Which is why the behavior of some is so confusing to me. Let me say first that I do not think the show always intended to put Buck and Eddie together, I don't think that's been the intention since the beginning. There is however a very good case to make that Eddie's introduction was Buck's actual Bi bell ringing moment though (*what a man plays in the background*). I do however agree that the writing has trended, increasingly so, in that direction. The writers do not hold all the blame however, Oliver and Ryan have kind of acted them into a corner. There are several scenes, multiple scenes, where the acting choices the two of them made were interesting, to say the least (looking at you 'go for the title' kitchen scene I love. Buck was flirting on every possible level in that scene).

Sorry, I got off track, back to my point. The people like me, who came in after the kiss popped up everywhere, being all in on T is somewhat fine. The problem would be the ones who are deliberately refusing to go back and watch the entire series before pontificating on B/T being destiny and all that other nonsense. There is an argument to be made that they're avoiding it because they know most of the history dismantles their current ship fixation. So as a result those people can be easily dismissed because they have zero context to any of their opinions. The ones who were with you all for 5 seasons though, yes I've seen their posts, who lost their shit over 2 pairs of lips touching, is what I cannot wrap my brain around. I completely understand the excitement behind that first kiss. It was a much anticipated moment for BUCK. He was the important person in that scene.

But confusing, or deliberately misinterpreting, Buck's revelation and sigh of relief at finally figuring out something pretty significant about himself, as being about him finding T is a gymnastics act I did not expect to see from so many long haulers. I mean, it should be obvious but T wasn't important in that scene. His gender was what was important. Which is why they have barely bothered to show him since that episode. And the interactions they have shown, minus the hospital kiss, that they made sure to show Eddie's reaction to btw, have all been red flag scenes. Little things that show this relationship isn't really that different from his previous relationships. Buck may have figured out the gender part but he's still making the same relationship mistakes. It's why the few scenes they've had together, and it's the bare minimum of effort, have been about Buck trying to initiate some level of communication and emotional connection and him being dismissed or having it turned into a daddy kink joke. I also think Oliver's enthusiasm dipped drastically by the end and it showed.

Which brings me to Eddie. The show, and more so, Oliver and Ryan have already done the hard part. The emotional connection, which is way more difficult to pull off than a physical connection, is already there. Their chemistry is already established.They're partners in every way but physically. As a result it is not a huge character leap to eventually bring a physical relationship into it as well. That will not be a shocking character development for either character. It goes back to the way the two have been written and they way Oliver and Ryan have interrupted those scenes. I won't touch their interviews because I think it's pretty clear, at this point, they seem to agree it's the way to go. There's more story to explore with them learning how to navigate an actual relationship than there is in bringing in other, lesser characters, to firstly try to compete with that connection, and then try to establish endgame status. I don't know. It's not about any two pairs of lips touching it's about the right two pairs of lips touching. Because when it's the right couple the characters get that sigh and exhale of finally! But the audience gets their sigh and exhale of finally as well. That is the point.

Sorry this got looooong 🤣

Ooooh Nonny, you speak right to my heart.

First of all, thank you for going back all the way to season 1 to actually sit down and watch the show. We aren't just making up Buddie. It has been there since the beginning. I'm so glad you got to witness their beautiful history together and that you realised just how right they are for each other.

I can't speak for the people who suddenly turned 180° and dropped Buddie for BT. I have been shipping Buddie from season 2, so I don't understand their reasoning or motivation either. It like you said so beautifully:

"It's not about any two pairs of lips touching. It's about the right two pairs of lips touching."

And that is what it comes down to. We can be content with a lackluster, meaningless relationship for queer rep. Or we can be exhilerated with an amazingly complex and years in the making relationship, which will be so much better for queer rep. It will be revolutionary in so many ways to make a slow burn queer ship canon.

(Before anyone comes at me for talking about queer rep. I have slowly been figuring myself out over the last couple of years and, looking back at my life and relationships, I've come to realise that I definitely belong somewhere on the ace spectrum. Not sure where exactly, I'm still searching for the right label, but it feels right to me. This is actually the first time I said this on a public forum for people to read. Kinda scary to be honest.)

I know what I would choose for myself if I was faced with these two options. Why wouldn't we automatically choose this for Buck and Eddie as well? It's mind-boggling really.

So yeah: queer Eddie and Buddie canon in season 8! All the way!

Don't apologise for your great post. I loved reading it. Feel welcome to drop in whenever you want. :)

[ladysophiebeckett]

Thank you for your kind reply to my ask 😊

You are absolutely right about the night in El Mesón de San Diego. He didn't even want to introduce her as his assistant, he was that ashamed to be seen with her in public even when it wasn't on a romantic term and was solely work related in front of all those people. What was he thinking asking her to go back afterwards? He even asks her if she thinks he is embararrassed to be seen with her because he refused to kiss her in front of everyone. Me thinks it was because he was acting as if she was not there since they arrived forcing her to have to introduce herself. Part of me wonders what would have happened if she had ditched Armando there after finishing her phone call to Nicolás and taken a cab home 😂😂😂 too bad she had to return his cellphone.

Before, I think I was also referring to the part where Betty storms off and Armando chases after her. I remember they were getting quite a few glances their way by the time she tells him that he cannot force her to stay because he cares way too much about his image and about what other people say. When he goes after her, I think he punches (or slaps?) a table and even collides with someone on his way out, and there were many people looking at him and gossiping in the back. I can't remember if they told Marcela about their fight as well.

lots going on here regarding el meson ep. lets backtrack a bit.

im so sorry this is like, super long and i tried to edit it. but like, i couldnt. im all over the place here. read at ur own risk.

the reason they go to el meson is bc betty eavesdrops on his conversation with mario--mario tells him to 'take her out to dinner, take her dancing, make love to her. whatever it takes to get her do el balance'. and then says that betty shouldn't get so used to going to fancy places, that armando's already taken her to business dinners and cocktails. that that wasn't going to last forever for her, not just bc of marcela but bc of armando's image.

then she challenges him to take her to el meson--which he does. (but he doesn't want to). as u said, he doesn't even introduce her as his assistant. and betty herself is surprised by this. look at her face:

at the very least she expected him to introduce her as his assistant. it's the bare minimum and he doesn't do it. so she does it herself.

the entire time inside el meson is betty challenging him and goes as far as saying that he has no problem being seen or publicly kissing beautiful woman, that it's just her he has the problem with.

this isn't the first time betty has brought something like this up.

the discussion of his public image vs her looks is something betty talks about that night at mario's apartment. she says he could never be with someone like her in public, she talks badly about herself and armando in that scene begs her not to talk that way.

betty does it again at el meson, but with a passive aggressiveness that armando doesn't know how to subdue. he's not being kind, he's not being attentive. he's nothing like the man betty was with at mario's apartment. mario says at some point that betty is testing him, in a way this was a test. she put this situation into practice and armando is failing. i think sometimes betty hopes to see the man she thought armando was before the letter and the date at el meson is another hurtful truth that that man doesn't exist.

so what we are left with now is a betty who's hurting and wants armando to hurt as well, to suffer at being by her side. he insists that something is going on with nicolas and betty's like 'okay i'll prove to you that's not true by kissing you' and armando is all too aware of the setting and doesn't want to kiss her there. he's actually thankful that marcela interrupts them with a phone call.

a big contrast to when they're trying to leave the picasso exhibit and marcela calls him and he's upset.

the fight you mention, the one inside where he hits the table--is bc after his phone call with marcela, he checks his phone and sees that betty never called her house. that it was nicolas she called. he becomes furious and he's like 'she wanted to kiss me but she's calling nicolas on MY phone'. he hits the table and yells at her, she retaliates. we know from here what happens. and yes ppl are looking at them. for a second, his anger and jealousy over the nicolas thing, take over and its not until betty gets up that he tries to stop her--

armando's face here is one of quiet torment. he knows she's right. he's hurt by how right she is. he also realizes that this relationship is out of his control. there's too many things happening and he doesn't know how to salvage any of it.

He even asks her if she thinks he is embararrassed to be seen with her because he refused to kiss her in front of everyone.

he wants to go back inside and talk things out and she refuses, she does say (paraphrasing) 'it mortifies you to be seen with me' and he denies it and then he, imo, belittles her feelings when he says 'why? because i wouldn't kiss you in front of the whole world? because i wouldn't touch you in public?' not only does it belittle her, but he's also taking out his frustration at the situation betty has put him in.

he then tries to kiss her bc at this point the jealousy he feels takes over, however he keeps trying to convince her to go back inside with him bc he wants a do over. he wants to kiss her, he wants her to go back inside so he can prove to her he's not ashamed of her. but its too late. even after he acknowledges his behavior 'i know i wasn't the best person in there'\'ive always done things wrong'. he didn't just fail an unknown test, he failed her and himself.

it's another contrast to the night at mario's when he is able to convince her to stay with him, where he is kind and gentle and honest with both her and himself. (u know aside fm betty's tragic backstory).

Part of me wonders what would have happened if she had ditched Armando there after finishing her phone call to Nicolás and taken a cab home 😂😂😂 too bad she had to return his cellphone

nicolas convinces her to stay bc he has his own ulterior motives, but i think if betty really wanted to leave in that instant she could left his phone in the hands of one the waiters bc they all know him there. i dont think betty would have gotten very far, and he still would have ran out after her. probably gone to her house, as he is fond of doing.

and there were many people looking at him and gossiping in the back. I can't remember if they told Marcela about their fight as well.

everyone saw them fighting, even outside u can see ppl in the windows fm the restaurant. but all marcela is told is that betty was acting very affectionate with him. and she's only told this by one person. you're bringing up something very interesting--everyone protects armando fm his infidelities. everyone saw something that was not work related happening at el meson. everyone knows armando is a cheater. so seeing him cheating, even if its with someone that's not a model, it's like natural thing for them to see. and the only one that thought to tell marcela was monica and it wasn't even the whole truth.

also--the image thing that armando is so worried about--is all in his head, bc at the end of the day he's still a man with high class privilege, so even if he was out in public with betty being affectionate, he would still be protected. betty wouldn't. clearly bc marcela never blames armando for anything, not really. she always blame the women around him.

double standard sexism amrite? idk how to end this post.

[techyghoul]

“Stay”

Rating: Teen ish

Content warnings: Dew having a meltdown, fairly detailed. Not to the level of “dead dove don’t eat” but still, if it’s not something you can handle at the moment don’t push yourself. The only selfharmful thing he does is hair pulling, but there’s visualizations (mental) of hitting oneself.

Pairing: Mountain / Dew (sfw), others mentioned.

Description: Dew tries to coast through his day, but ends up going full defcon.

The day didn’t necessarily start off bad, nothing bad happened, but everyone knows that this isn’t how this works. Dew woke up with a feeling gripping his chest that it wasn’t going to be a great day. But he drug on because of expectation, and wanting to at least try to make something out of it.

He’d take it easy, coast by, do the bare minimum to get buy for the sake of himself.

It started with clothes. What he wanted to wear, the comforting dark sweater and comfy jogger pants were in the wash. Cumulus must have slipped in while he was asleep to try any help. He settled for the closest he could, sweat pants and someone else’s hoodie he’s snatched whilst bed hopping.

Then there were chores, usually easy, nothing that Dew couldn’t physically handle. It was some small organizational things that needed to be done. Dew’s handled worse. But that went sideways when no matter what he did to stack the towels given to him that they fell over, effectively making him repeat the entire task of folding and stacking at least twice. They ultimately go shoved in the cabinet for someone unsuspecting to find later, he couldn’t physically stand it.

The building in his chest was spreading across his body, and worst of all, his brain. Dew could visualize the impending meltdown, and it was emotionally draining in itself. The way he wanted to scream and kick and even hit himself over what he logically found to be the silliest reasons.

He was able to coast through most of the day, getting menial tasks done and running back to his room. And now in the comfort of his safe space, it all came crashing down. All the mild inconveniences building into one horrific no good bad day. Silent sobs racked his body as he slid down the wall beside his door. His scent turned sour, tail wrapping securely around his own leg to prevent anything from being thrashed around. His hands were in his hair, the golden locks tangling around small his rings and fingertips and claws. Nothing was enough to distract from the feeling of distress taking him over.

Dew isn’t sure how long he’s been like this, but the call to dinner is what lets him know it’s been too long. Mountains soft voice coming to the other ghouls in their rooms to let them know food was ready. Unfortunately, but the time he gets his head past Dew’s door, the smaller ghoul is snapping at him before he has a chance to smell the soured scent of distress.

“I fuckin’ know I heard you down the hall-“ Dew spits out with some venom, not really looking at Mountain as he quickly rocks on the floor. Movement had to happen, it felt like, or he’d explode right there.

It’s a surprise when Mountain just… crouches down beside him. “Dewbug, what do you need? What can I do?” Well it isn’t all that surprising, Mountain’s one of the ghouls he’s known the longest, he’s very familiar with Dew, his issues and struggles. He knows better than to touch him. “Can I touch you?”

A moment of processing, and Dew nods, Mountain doesn’t waste a moment. His hands come and gingerly untangle his hands from his hair. “How long?” He asks, the fire ghoul shrugs. He truly doesn’t know.

“Okay,” Mountain nods along, trying his best to soothe the area of his scalp he had been tugging at. “Do you want time by yourself, or you want me here?”

“Stay.” Dew says with urgency, his body feeling like it can no longer hold him up and falling into Mountain’s lap. It doesn’t physically phase the earth ghoul a bit. His hands gently caress in ways he’s found Dew responds positively to, one down his slide, the other gently stroking his cheek as Dew’s cheek wrests on his wrist. The tears fall in earnest now, unabashed sobs heaving into the air until he can’t keep it up anymore.

Mountain just holds him through it, quietly humming and whispering small reassurance that Dew can’t really make out right now. He’s exhausted, all the sounds are too much. There’s a brief exchange of words between the taller ghoul and someone else, they just have been away long enough to tip off the pack, that or they caught wind of Dew’s horrific scent.

“I got ya Dewbug.” Mountain whispers to him, pulling him closer to where he can properly hold the fire ghoul, cradling him against his chest. He can’t help but let the other man handle him, too tired physically and emotionally to deal with it all. “You think you can eat?” He asks softly.

Dew shakes his head, eating sounds nauseating.

“Okay, you want one of your shakes?” Dew had meal replacement shakes that he favored, one’s for when the days were too bad, one’s he had come to enjoy whilst he went through his elemental change. He nods, he needs to drink anyway, he’d rather it be chocolate anyway. In shorter time that it felt like, Mountain had been handed one through the door, straw and all. The scent he could pick up on was Sunshine, it must have been her.

The straws nudged up to his lips, and he slowly drinks. The pit of nausea slowly slips away with each small sip. “Anything particular or just a bunch of little thing?” Mountain asks. “Little things.” The smaller ghoul mumbles immediately, drinking more of the meal replacement. Mountain’s always handled him like an expert, him and Aether and Ifrit especially.

There’s an immeasurable amount of time that passes, exhaustions slipping in and making everything muddled. Dew finds himself in bed, Mountain on one side of him, Aether on the other. He wants to question it but he can’t, exhaustion finally pulling him in to the sounds of the two ghouls whispering softly to him.

[emiel-surreal]

i work in food service so i meet and serve a lot of people with greatly varying access needs and preferences. i have many stories of where i suspected people were expecting or anticipating me to be rude or incapable of or unwilling to help them. which sucks!!!! everybody deserves to be able to go to a restaurant and have a meal cooked for them as they want it.

we have a few regulars with allergies. of course we’ll make your meal without dairy. of course you can have corn tortillas instead of flour. this is the bare minimum in my opinion. we have the alternatives already so it isn’t an imposition at all. i feel horrible when it’s a busy day, and only the meal with a list of modifications was made wrong (the kitchen is rushed, they don’t see all the mods) so now only the person with allergies feels singled out, waiting an extra 15 minutes for their food to arrive RIGHT. this mostly happens on busy days, i only remember it happening two or three times. i think we’ve gotten better at reminding the kitchen and holding them accountable.

i held the kid’s meal out toward the one kid at the table, but she pushed the plate away. i looked to the mom with a surprised look. i was about to ask, “is there something wrong/missing?” but the mom said “she’s autistic”. i just said “i understand!” and i let the mom take the food from me. i guess she gets backlash from other adults in public when her kid doesn’t “behave”? i can’t remember if i did clarify/ask again “does everything look okay” or if she said everything is okay and i left. i know that in general, on a few occasions, my coworkers talk about how some kids are misbehaving, and i smile and nod while i think “they’re kids, they’re hungry, only we have the power to pacify them but instead we’re gossiping”.

i delivered two kids meals, but ranch spilled into one plate from its ramekin, contaminating the chicken strips. the mom at the table told me it had to be remade. i said of course, no worries. i swapped the ranch-contaminated chicken with some from another meal that wasn’t ready yet (it was just a couple drops of ranch, of course i’m using gloves). my coworker made like this kid was so unreasonably picky, but dude i get it. food needs to be RIGHT, and risking that this kid might have ARFID, why would i be the one to prevent this kid from eating? unfortunately the other kid meal was more difficult to reconcile but that one was out of my hands.

this lady couldn’t remember the name of the sauce she wanted on her sandwich. i couldn’t figure it out either, asking her for the flavor profile. so i brought a few out for her to try (i have to ask the kitchen to give me a ramekin of each). turns out we actually discontinued the sauce she was remembering lol whoops!!

a lady tells me her broccoli is too hard, and she can’t eat it because she has no teeth. yeah sometimes the broccoli doesn’t steam all the way. i took it back and steamed it further. i hate that someone could order something and then it turns out they won’t be able to enjoy it how they looked forward to it.

i get that this isn’t most people’s dream job, and it doesn’t pay very well. but we work with food, which people ingest, and i think that’s very serious. our pay is also directly correlated to how well we do our jobs and how many customers come back, so yeah i expect that i and my coworkers at least pretend to care about building a decent experience for customers. i know there’s a lot of talk about doing the minimum amount of work to stick it to the man or whatever, but also… besides the fact that my pay is correlated to how well i work (how likely to return customers are after being served by me)… i am working for people, why would i want to be rude? the rudeness affects the customer, not the boss.

and i am not perfect by any means. sometimes i go in to work exhausted or stressed already, or the job gets me exhausted or stressed, and i know i’m not being bubbly and polite and perfect. it’s hard when i have to keep up with the rest of the kitchen and restaurant, and help one person remember the name of what they’re asking me for. but that is the job and i take it seriously even if it’s hard for me at that moment.

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[mapleshmaple]

,

[slafkovskys]

Patrick Moynihan, surprising him at providence, please Jess he is so underrated but he shouldn’t be

“he doesn’t know anything, right?” you ask as you slide into the passenger seat of parker’s car. you look at the boy nervously as he clicks his seatbelt, “like, you swear that you didn’t let it slip when you were out last night or anything?”

“y/n, i mean this in the nicest way possible because pat is one of my best friends,” he sighs as he pulls away from the terminal, “the kid barely knows his left from his right when he’s sober. you know it, i know it. great guy, a great hockey player, just a couple of screws loose. probably coulda told him you were coming and he would have forgotten about it in five minutes. well…”

your eyes widen at his pause and you shove his shoulder, “parker!”

“all i was going to say was that you’re his favorite subject. ‘y/n this. y/n that.’ no need for the roughhousing,” he maneuvers onto the interstate and starts toward their house. “i shouldn’t even offer since you’re being incredibly rude even though i woke up extra early to pick you up at the airport-”

“when i asked about coming down you said, and i quote, ��i have an early class on tuesdays, i can pick you up. it’s not big deal.’”

he takes a deep breath before responding, “shut up. do you want breakfast or not?”

“no, i’ll make pat take me somewhere,” you look out the window as the morning traffic passes by, “but thank you for offering.”

“you are a demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he mumbles under his breath, probably not expecting a response but you hum anyway as you lean back in the seat. the rest of the drive back to their house is spent in relative silence besides whatever music was coming through the speakers and when that silence was broken, it was mostly him complaining when you skipped a song. “welcome to our lovely abode.”

“i’m here, like, at least two weekends a month, park,” you remind him as you pull your duffel bag out of the backseat and rest the strap on your shoulder. you grab the handle of your suitcase and tug on it too, stumbling a little as it hits the ground, “bare minimum. thanks for the help.”

“least i can do for that shoulder shove and skipping my favorite song. call a truce?” he holds out his hand to which you send a concerned look before shaking. he takes your luggage and walks you into the house, nodding at craig who’s in the kitchen. you send him a wave, “well, it’s been fun, but i’ve got an exam to fail.”

“raise hell later?” you quirk an eyebrow and he grins, nodding his head before retreating out of the door with craig in tow. you move your stuff out of the way before going down the hall towards pat’s room. you twist the knob and poke your head in to find him lying in the middle of his bed, unsurprisingly still asleep.

you close the door carefully behind you, tiptoeing across the floor and making a mental note to make him tidy up before you leave. you let your weight fall gently onto the bed, trying not to disturb him until you place your hand on his back. you trace letters and shapes along the bare skin gently, knowing from experience that it was an easy way to wake him. after a minute, he grunts, “not funny, ford. get the fuck out of my room.”

“i’m not parker,” you say and his body goes stiff. quicker than you’ve ever seen, his head whips around and he’s staring at you with wide eyes. you send him a shy smile, “good morning sunshine.”

he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before saying, “am i still dreaming? are you a mirage?”

“would you like me to pinch you?”

he holds out his forearm and you pinch the skin. he yanks his arm back and holds it to his chest, swearing rapidly, “not a dream, okay.”

“we’ve established that you aren’t dreaming, pat. now are you gonna kiss me or do i need to go find someone who will?” you send a teasing glance his way and he rolls his eyes before pinning you to the bed. “actually, wait, go brush your teeth first. morning breath.”

“you’re just gonna have to deal with it sweetheart,” he mumbles before pressing his lips to yours. it lasts for only a minute before he’s pulling away, a lopsided grin on his lips, “i missed you so fucking much.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and all i get is one kiss?”

“if i wasn’t hungover and still half asleep, i would give you more. just let me get my bearings, babe,” he promises, pressing his lips to yours once again before resting his head on the pillow. he pulls you close and leaves his hand on your hip, “how long are you here for?”

“until sunday,” you run a hand through his hair, “and don’t fall back asleep. you’re taking me to breakfast.”

“i just wanna lay here for a little while longer,” he mumbles as he buries his face in your neck. you giggle as his scruff tickles your skin and his arms tighten around your waist.

“how long is just a little while, pat?”

a beat of silence passes before he answers, “forever.”

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[slasherhaven]

Holy shit your insecure Michael fic woke something up inside of me 😂 I absolutely love this softer side of Michael. I was wondering if I could request a piece on michaels conflicted feelings about falling in love and opening up to his s/o? Like just really soft and fluffy, maybe him noticing that he leans into her touch and craves intimacy more etc. I’m just a slut for our big slashers being soft just for their s/o. Thank you so much I loooove this page and how you write for these tough guys 🥰🥰

Michael Myers feeling conflicted about falling in love and opening up:

He couldn’t place when it started...probably when he started coinhabiting with you, when he decided not to kill you. Yeah, that was probably the start of it, right at the beginning, but realisation settled too late, it was unavoidable. 

He could kill you...technically that would end the problem, right? No more new and strange feelings, no more conflict, it would be over. However, the thought of you being gone did not settle right with Michael at all, it made his fists clench at his sides and his jaw tense behind his mask. No, that wouldn’t solve the problem, it will only bring a multitude of new ones.

It started when he spared you, he decided. Then when was the turning point? When did he realise that there was no turning back? He knew the answer to that fairly quickly as well, when he removed the mask around you for the first time, letting you see his face, letting you see the real Michael. The man, not the monster.

It was all unavoidable. You and these feelings...unavoidable. At least that was what he told himself to avoid thinking about why he made each individual decision that led him here.

You had become his partner, you cared for him and he cared for you even if you both showed it in very different ways. You meant something to him, he was somebody to you. You saw him. All of this had been true for a long time, even you had known it, but Michael had refused to open his eyes to it. Hoping that ignoring it would avoid the realisation forever. 

He could let things continue, let things be, but he couldn’t actually wrap his head around it. So, he supressed it the best he could.

The moment he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer, when the conflict rose to the front of his mind and planted itself there, was when you were tending to his wounds.

It was an intimate act, though you had been intimate together various times before this felt different. It was a soft, caring act on your behalf.

He couldn’t ignore the way your touch slowly eased the tension in his body, how he allowed himself to trust you at all when he had never trusted anyone. What really caused him to linger on his internal conflict was the way he lent into your touch without even realising it at first. How could you have so much power over him?

The thing that really gets him is when you’re in bed and you move closer in your sleep, cuddling into his side, like you trusted him. Hell, you did trust him against your own better judgement. He allowed it...he liked it.

The only reason Michael didn’t end it all was because he...enjoyed it. It was a nice, warm feeling. Of course he liked that...he just wasn’t used to it.

The conflict wasn’t whether he enjoyed having you around or not. It was about whether or not he would accept it. 

Letting you in, opening up to you, it felt good but it made him feel vulnerable, something Michael never wants to feel. He hates it.

-----

It was late but you were cooking, making something for Michael to eat when you noticed that he hadn’t eaten much that day. Caring, just like always. Normally Michael enjoyed your cooking and would eat anything you placed in front of him, but he was starting to feel that itch, the one that could only be satisfied by going out for a hunt.

“Michael” you smiled, turning when you heard his footsteps enter the room. “I guessed you were hungry so I’m making you something to eat” you informed him, he hated the way it make his heart twinge. “Sit down” you kindly gestured towards the table, seemingly not noticing the mask clutched in his hand.

Michael just shook his head, pulling the mask over his face before heading for the backdoor.

“Oh...okay...” you frowned a little when you realised he was leaving for his...nightly activities. You had become used to it, loved him despite it, but it still hurt a little when he left you like this. “I’ll uh...put it aside, you can heat it up when you come back if you’re hungry” you offered, forcing a small smile, “oh, and try not to get blood on the sheets when you come to bed, alright?” 

It was...oddly domestic, the things you requested of him, the bare minimum honestly.

He responded with the smallest nod and a quiet grunt of approval, though it sounded a little dismissive. 

You sighed as he left the house, turning back to the food you had been cooking. You would put it in the fridge for when he returned, you wondered if you should try to stay up for him or if you would tire before he came home.

You jumped a little when you heard the door open again, turning to see Michael striding towards you. You paused, blinking up at him curiously. You knew that he couldn’t help when he needed to go out like this, so you wondered why he decided to return.

You didn’t speak, you just waited. Surely he wanted something. 

It was incredibly surprising to you when he lifted the mask up to just above his nose, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Your face flared up in a warm blush, definitely not expecting the affection. Without anything else, Michael lowered the mask, turning on his heel.

There, affection. It wasn’t a lot but it was a step in the right direction, enough to express some of the things he was feeling.

“I love you too!” you called after him as he disappeared out of the house, leaving you smiling brightly to yourself.

Those words. They just started a whole new conflict. You loved him, you loved him too...you knew how he felt about you even if he couldn’t completely comprehend them himself.

For now, this was okay. He was slowly coming to terms with his new feelings, and it seemed that you were willing to wait, finding the small achievements satisfying.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i like how she starts off by having the absolute shittiest day possible and it just never seems to end? and then knowing she has to go on a date BRADLEY planned? for her and some other guy? ooooof i’d be crying in the uber omw to the restaurant. i know we’ve talked about it at length, but my god alexa i loved this series so much! it gave me butterflies and made me yearn and i even cried a little in part 3 (probably because i read it last night at 2am). i totally thought nat was going to have bradley as her date, so was SO surprised by this and loved that twist. and just like?? him picked some place away from the hard deck and remembering that she said she wanted to try this place WEEKS ago?? and he dressed up? AND SWEET GIRL!?! god i have fave parts below, but pls pls know i meant it when i said i’m going to re read this series like a bunch of times ☺️

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained. - honestly my heart went out to her on every single one of those hard deck dates, but i would’ve been so anxious being under my friends’ well meaning, but not entirely welcome stares all evening (esp bradley’s…)

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table. - okay the description of the restaurant was So Good! like such vivid and descriptive writing

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. - s/o to reformation! we love your work!

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love. - the concept of tiredness is so special to me idk if that sounds weird or like i’m making something up, but i love the concept of tiredness because it’s so much more than physical? and this just totally nails that for me. like you’re tired of always being “on?”

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. - 🥺🥺

He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you. - this was so good!

“You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.” - TIRED! what a concept! and then when she thinks it’s a physical tiredness because of the training their doing and you later find out bradley is killing it in the training and it’s actually the same tired she’s feeling?! 🫡

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with. - 🥺🥺

He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you. The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness. - because i feel like some part of her wanted it to be him? and if he sent someone else it would just confirm that he would never feel anything for her beyond friendship? even if she maybe didn’t realize it at the moment?

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. - this reminds me of the red nail polish theory (men are subconsciously attracted to women with red nails because that’s what their moms wore)

To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him. - oh bradley! sweet boy!

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it. - BRADLEY!!! 🥺🥺

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.” - i know we don’t exactly get her reaction to this, but i feel like she just felt…sad? and tired? like thinking this is the final nail in the coffin for anything that might be there between her and bradley?

you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color - stop this is so precious, his new favorite 🥰

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger. - BRADLEY! sweet boy!

He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head - 🥺🥺

You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed. - this is so SWEET! oh wow

“My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?” - oh honey no! (admittedly i wouldn’t have realized for a hot minute either)

He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus - BECAUSE HE LOOKED UP THE MENU BEFOREHAND! HE KNEW YOU WANTED TO GO THERE! HE KNOWS YOU!

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?” - okay so i also wondered this? especially since she’s known him since they were kids! so ty for addressing this!

“It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was puzzle piece from a different box trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.” - this totally makes sense and i wish more stories went into this. like she wants to fit into this new life of his, but all bradley wants is a reminder of the life he has outside of the navy? she’s kind of the best of both worlds for him now

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular. - this is so pretty and so is he 🥰 also i like how you show that he’s still nervous? like when he shifts in his chair and bounces his leg (i loved them playing footsie) and wipes his hands on his pants

“I’m here for our date.” There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause. “Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke. - i think this is where i cried at 2am like the whole fear that it’s a “joke” got me and like we all know it’s not because bradley wouldn’t do that, but still there’s the little niggling of doubt that it could be or that he did it because he felt bad about all her pretty shitty dates and pitied her?

“I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it?” - oh this is SO sweet and cute! GAHHH

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.” - AHHHH IT’S LIKE HE’S PROPOSING TO DATE HER!? i love it ahhhh

Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”. - i love him so much sorry this would sign seal deliver it for me right then and there

Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. - oh i LOVED this! i’ve been picturing them as not super touchy feely in their friendship until the last couple weeks with the dates (the pool trick 😵‍💫), so this was perfect! and like just them making out in the parking lot was so cute and perfect

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?” - PARALLELS! WE LOVE PARALLELS!!

Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.” - i’m sorry but jake seresin would definitely have a cop friend

Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day. 

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did. 

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks. 

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

Keep reading

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[river-bottom-nightmare]

do you have headcanons for talon dick?

i have very many headcanons for talon dick i hope you enjoy babe

the court of owls takes dick’s innate need for perfectionism and dials it up to 11. he has to be the best student, the best brainwashed little weapon, the best talon. because as long as he’s the best, then they won’t punish him as much. if he’s the best, then the court will value his life, and he’ll be allowed to keep what little drops of free will he still has left.

dick juggles a lot as talon. the court thinks of it as a funny little quirk that dick has, but they also see it as a warm-up and easy training sequence that they can utilize, and use to give their talons more lethality and power with their weapons.  so they give dick knives and tell him to juggle and dick’s beyond thankful, though he won’t let anyone know, because it’s the one thing he has left from the circus

dick’s terrified of laughter. laughter only means a talon screwed up, and the court was going to take a perverse glee in punishing them. laughter only means that one of the court’s going to be given free reign to do what they wish. laughter means someone will be whimpering in pain before they’re disposed of, and dick can only hope that’s not him. silence is good. silence is a dark shadow and a cape draping over him, silence is steady and calm and righteously furious and safety. dick likes silence.

once dick comes to live with batman, still a talon but one with a much kinder master no matter how often batman says he doesn’t control dick, he doesn’t eat. food and nutrients were regulated by the court. furthermore, he wasn’t sure he was allowed to eat any of the food in wayne manor. no one told him he could, and once bruce figured out that’s the reason he wasn’t eating, he jumped over himself to tell him it was okay, which made dick all the more certain it was a trap. but after a little while, he slowly stuck his neck out and tried to trust bruce and alfred. and the best way to do that was with food. he was pleasantly surprised by alfred’s cooking, and soon developed a taste for very specific food. he didn’t like sour food. sour tastes in his mouth reminded him of being locked in isolation, barely anything to survive off of, then coming out with a dry, sour mouth and a shivering mind. he didn’t like bitter food. bitter tastes in his mouth reminded him of vomit, of being pushed so hard and being pumped with their drugs that he threw up, and despite how horrible he felt, he was forced to get back up and continue training. he didn’t like salty food. salty tastes in his mouth reminded him of blood, of being hit and slapped and stabbed and beaten until the blood filled his mouth, and he was swearing that he learned his lesson. but sweet food? that was like nothing he’d ever tried before, (at least, nothing he could remember). it filled him with a sort of happy warmth and pleasant buzzing sensation. it made him giggle, something he didn’t know he knew how to do. it made him want to eat more food, not just the bare minimum needed to keep his body going. alfred took note of this, and baked him all matters of desserts and pastries and sweets.

dick hates liars. the court of owls never lied. they always told him exactly what they wanted from him, exactly what they would make him do, exactly how little they cared. their word was law, there was no need to lie. dick can tell when people are lying. just because he was terrible at people in general, doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to read them. but he hated liars all the same. his time in the court taught him to be honest, and to expect others to be honest as well. with the bats, half-truths and lies slip out of their mouths like breaths, twining around their words like snakes. it’s what makes him always a little on edge, never able to fully relax with batman. he could never wholeheartedly give his loyalty to people who lied so easily.  who’s to say they weren’t lying about their opinions on him?

[mochegato]

Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment.  She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham.  The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high.  The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision.  It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to.  It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her.  She eyed the people around her as she walked.  Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her.  She could feel somebody watching her.  She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move.  She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her.  She frowned slightly and shook her head.  She was getting paranoid.  She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.  

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag.  The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own.  She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it.  She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything.  Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs.  She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her.  She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion.  “Just me.  It’s okay. It’s just me.”  He watched her for a few seconds.  She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me.  So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.”  He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow.  “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right?  You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you doing here?”  

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today.  It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes.  And I’m a security expert.  I consult on it for people and companies.  I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.”  He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe.  “I can already tell that you need better locks.  I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds.  “You would be right.”  She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door.  “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern.  “I wouldn’t let you.  I’d charge Tim for it.  He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him.  The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became.  She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there.  Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.  

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys.  “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.”  She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise.  After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment.  He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting.  But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now?  “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions.  Standard issue, not particularly secure.  He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight.  He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open.  He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile.  Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her.  There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected.  He shook his head at the condition of the apartment.  It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean.  He could see why she and Tim got along so well.  Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.  

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports.  He raised an eyebrow at that.  Odd combination.  His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door.  He scrunched his forehead in confusion.  If she lived with someone, where were they?  Where were they last night?  Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him?  “You live with someone?  A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator.  “No.  Well, yes, but no.  I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded.  That was good at least.  She wasn’t living alone.  There was someone else with her usually.  That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her.  He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time.  It was worse than the door.  “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones.  This lock is ancient too.  It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it.  We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter.  She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad.  She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here.  Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be.  She was just an average citizen here.  

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could.  She was no longer safe, not even in her own home.  But then again, she never really had been had she?  She had just thought she was.  She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant.  Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting.  Jason could guess where her head went.  When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang.  She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.  

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water.  She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water.  Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help.  It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter.  Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink.  She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter.  After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed.  Jason frowned at the sound.  It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her.  He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help.  God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming.  Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her.  She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again.  They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.  

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring.  She shook her head at herself.  She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped.  She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.”  She paused to listen to him.  “No, I’m fine.  I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it.  Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim.  “I’m doing okay, I guess.  I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid.  I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor.  “No, thank you though.  Actually, your brother is here already.”  She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.  

“…that so.  That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern.  “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh.  Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications.  She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off.  He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed.  “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down.  And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.”  He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling.  “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.”  She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey!  That makes me Ron?  What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled.   “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words.  “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?”  Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in.  “Oh!  No, I was serious.  You two remind me of my friends.  It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight?  You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again.  “Yeah, Tim.  I’m okay.  Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.  Let me know if that changes.  I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously.  “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely.”

“Sweet.  I might test it just for that,” she teased him.  “Night, Tim.”

“Night.  And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up.  She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go?  It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her.  “I have plenty of time.  Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again.  “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture.  It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”  

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him.  “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile.  “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes.  “You certainly seem to think so.”  She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now.  If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him.  She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him.  “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes.  “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response.  “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly.  She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively.  “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it?  Or pretend like it never happened.  I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly.  “I was keeping an eye on my drinks.  I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.”  She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before.  “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence.  When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring.  He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.  

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously.  He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were.  “You don’t think it was just opportunistic.  You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor.  She gripped her arms tighter.  “I don’t know.  I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people.  I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again.  “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded.  She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze.  She looked up at him with a fake smile.  “So what are you feeling for dinner?  I can make some pasta.  I can do stir fry.  I can whip up a casserole.  What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention.  “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile.  He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to.  “That’s understandable.  I wouldn’t want to be either.  Do you want me to call Tim over?  I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile.  “No, I trust you.  And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back.  “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen.  “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her.  “You should eat though.  What kind of food do you want to try?  There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away.  “I don’t want to order out.  I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again.  “Yeah, that’s reasonable.  Let’s make something together, yeah?  I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter.  How do you feel about breakfast for dinner?  French toast sound good?  I think you call it Lost Bread?  And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded.  “That all sounds amazing.”  She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared.  “Thank you, Jason.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem.  We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself.  They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again.  Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

[softer-ua]

I was thinking about how Katsuki has never seen Deku in the hospital before and how Deku might be surprised to see him, and how that would probably hurt Katsukis feelings.

Then I decided to be self-indulgent and write the scene out. It was supposed to be short but I got super self-indulgent, because I like making Katsuki feel and making it hurt 🥰

I don’t wanna be unexpected

Deku carefully cracks open his eyes slowly taking in a dark unfamiliar ceiling and the heavy aching of his limbs, he isn’t fully cast anymore but a routine stiffness that tells him he had been.

 He’s grown used to this routine over the last year, he doesn’t even bother trying to sit up. Instead, he just scans the room the best he can from his semi-horizontal position. 

Turning his head to the left he sees an empty visiting chair and a small window letting in the city’s lights. It’s the only light the room has so it must be well into the middle of the night. 

Continuing to the right he sees a small nightstand filled with get-well cards and gifts. It brings a smile to his cracked lips, he’d most certainly cry if his body had the water to spare. 

If you told Deku a year ago that he’d get into UA he might have believed you, but never in a million years would he believe you if you told him he was on friendly terms with at least 1/3 of all of UA’s hero course students. 

Sometimes that felt like the most unbelievable part of everything. Having his idol pass his legacy to him to beat an ancient evil? Crazy but within the realm of his imagination. 

Making close friends with half his class and being at a minimum a positive acquaintance to most of his peers? It was almost unthinkable for a kid who’d spent his whole life being scorned and left out by even his teachers. 

Choked up by his feelings, Deku tries to swallow the painful lump forming in his throat. He’s worried so many people and let them down by getting hospitalized yet again. 

He’s too dehydrated to cry but he can’t help the dry cracked warble that escapes him. It takes a concentrated effort to clear his throat and not break down completely. It wouldn’t be cathartic at this moment, just painful. 

A small groan from the foot of his bed pulls his attention away from reading what he could of the cards. 

What he sees doesn’t instantly register with his groggy mind. That’s not uncommon, usually, the longer he’s out the more disoriented he is upon waking, his body might have made a full recovery but the brain takes longer to re-engage with its surroundings. 

Deku doesn’t expect to see Kacchan of all people in his hospital room at all, let alone when he first wakes up in the dead of night, but the blonde tuft of hair sticking up from a familiar orange hoodie turned makeshift pillow cradled in well-toned arms makes the figure resting over the edge of his hospital bed unmistakable 

Deku would know that pale face pinched into a grimace anywhere. 

It adds to the layer of confusion he’s grown used to as part of waking up hospitalized. It also adds a layer of dread and an equal amount of relief. Things must be pretty bad if Kacchan is here, but Kacchan is here and he looks completely whole. It’s a best worst-case scenario. 

Kacchan lets out a small grunt as he pushes his face deeper into orange cotton. Deku’s heart squeezes at the sight of the blonde's obvious discomfort. 

Kacchan should be at home sleeping in a real bed, not hunched over in a visitor chair clutching a hoodie for a pillow. 

Without thinking Deku calls out “Kacchan?”, his voice just above a whisper, a selfish part of him hopes Kacchan will stay asleep a little longer. That he’ll stay where Deku can see him and knows he’s okay. But he knows it’s selfish. So he calls again a little louder, his voice hoarse and scratchy from lack of use. 

The blonde shoots up, eyes near frantic as he looks around before red irises settle their sites on him with more concern than Deku ever remembers seeing on Kacchan. Well, at least outside a fight and directed at him.

He hopes they're not about to fight, but when it comes to Kacchans temperament… well he’d be a fool to dismiss the possibility of it. 

For a moment all Kacchan does is stare at him. It makes something cold and heavy settle in his stomach. Nothing scares Kacchan, and yet he looks completely shaken. 

“Deku? Are you really awake this time?” Katsuki tries to not make his whisper sound as desperate as he feels. There’s no point getting worked up over another dream or worse a still drug-addled Deku, but this Deku seems to recognize him for the first time, and although tired his green eyes shined with a level of coherency that’s been missing for a few days now.

Katsukis’s chest grew tight seeing it. It paled in comparison to the glimmer of brilliance that usually shone in those beautiful emeralds, but when compared to the unfocused glazed look he had been sporting the last few days? Well, Katsuki thought he just might collapse with relief. 

This is what he’d been waiting for, Deku’s been physically healed for at least 2 days now but consciously he’s been pretty touch and go. “Uh, I think so?” That’s definitely not the kinda question Deku had been expecting, but he has his own question he wants to get to before they get into that. 

Pushing through the dry burning in his throat Deku rattled off the most pressing questions. “How are you feeling? Is everyone okay? Did LOV getaway? What’s going on?” 

Annoyance flashes in Katsukis’s eyes before quieting with acceptance, of course, the nerd wants to know how everyone else is and the current status. Katsuki wanted the same when he first woke up, they were heroes in training, after all. Their own lives would always take a backseat to their self-appointed responsibilities. 

“Hold on. You sound like sh– not good.” Katsuki got up and got the nerd a cup of water and then helped him sit upright, trying to decide on what to tell him. Completely missing the way Deku flushed at his uncharacteristic gentleness. 

Katsuki decided on the bare minimum. 

“I don’t wanna talk about that sh- not good fight right now. All you need to know is that everyone is fine. You’re the only one still layed up, worrying everyone half to death. You’ve been out for almost a week, you woke up a few times but you were all loopy calling people by the wrong names.” 

Calling him by the wrong name. Deku must have said an incoherent hello to half the class only sometimes guessing who he was speaking to correctly or just talking to no one at all before immediately falling back asleep. Deku had of course asked about him more than a few times but not once did the bastard see him sitting right in front of him. 

It had taken every ounce of willpower Katsuki possessed to not throttle him, but he’d promised All Might that for the sake of Auntie Inko he wouldn’t upset the nerd. 

The pride Katsuki had just momentarily taken in thinking to get Deku water, the gentleness he took help the dweeb sit up, and managing not to swear when recounting the transgressions to boot turned ashen when he saw the way Deku shied away with guilt. 

A stubborn part of him felt righteous and believed Deku should feel guilty, a larger part felt a sense of failure in breaking his promise to All Might literally the first time he actually spoke to Deku. 

“Wait, if everyone else is okay what are you doing here?” Deku feels himself relaxing despite his guilt, contentment settling in the spaces where trepidation previously roosted, he trusted Kacchan to be honest. 

If he says everything’s fine then it is, but the lack of pressing news makes Kacchan passed out at the end of his bed even more confusing. 

The painkillers he’s on make thinking feel like everything’s ruining through Windows 95’, he can practically hear his brain's fan whirring. His mind can’t really pull up fresh thoughts, just old truths, Kacchans never visited before and he apparently has no reason to now.

Katsuki sighs as he slumps back into his chair. Deku’s still clearly confused and he isn’t sure he has the energy to repeat himself right now, then considering how he failed the first time he decides might as well try.

“Everyone is fine, everything is as fine as it can be at the moment. You’re in the hospital recovering from the fight with supercharged crusty mcdusty, but you are also apparently going to be fine” Dekus staring at him like he has two heads so he keeps talking. “The league is being dealt with, I’m not talking about the fighting until tomorrow at the earliest, neither of us is in shape for that conversation and I don’t know much myself yet”

Deku’s pinch brows and slight pout tell him he’s got questions, questions he can’t answer. Anytime he even thinks about how the fight went down he feels like he’s going to explode.

Trying to reign in every ounce of self control he possesses he slumps further in his chair rubbing his face and counts to five. Then kicks Dekus hospital bed for good measure, before speaking again.

“Deku just rest, you're clearly still out of it and I don’t wanna repeat myself a third time.” Seriously how many other ways can he say everything is, by a very loose definition, fine. How much clearer can he make it that he’s not giving anything else up?

“Uh you didn’t have to repeat yourself? I believed you the first time, Kacchan” Deku couldn’t help but feel like Kacchan was purposely misinterpreting his question, but why? It shouldn’t be a hard question, he’d really only asked to make conversation and clear up some brain cobwebs.

“Then why did you ask–“ Something ugly and broken twists in Katsuki’s gut as he slowly repeated Dekus' question in his head ‘what are you doing here’.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here if you didn’t have to be.”

Deku wasn’t, hadn’t been, asking why someone was there with him but why he, Katsuki, was there. Deku wanted to know why he was here instead of literally anyone else. Deku didn’t know that Katsuki had basically taken up permanent residence in here with him, probably couldn’t see the cot laying at the foot of his bed.

White-hot rage coursed through him in an instant, after everything they went through Deku thought he’d just ditch him to some extras in scrubs? Katsuki had a bad temper on good sleep, exhausted he was ready to put Deku back in a coma.

He struggled with the feeling of his palms heating, but the second before he felt like detonating Katsuki caught Deku’s eyes in full.

As always they show everything the nerds feeling and the familiarity soothes him in a way he can’t explain. Doesn’t ever want to explain.

It used to drive him up the wall like Deku was purposely giving him messages in a language he couldn’t read. Shoving in his face how inadequate he is in comparison.

Katsuki knows now that’s not the case and over the last few months, he’s actually been learning how to read Deku for the first time in his life.

And he’s discovering that even though it’s an advanced read for him he likes the challenge and even more he likes the victorious warmth that spreads down to his toes when he can tell just what Dekus is thinking without any words.

Right now Deku does look slightly confused and yet still so open and trusting, and his crooked shy smile proves that he is actually happy Katsukis here. His confusion is just that, confusion.

Always glad to see him, always caught off guard by his presence.

As much as the familiarity soothed the recognition hurt.

A couple of months on good terms doesn’t erase all the bad years, he knows this, he’s told himself as much a dozen-plus times.

He’s never visited Deku in the infirmary or the hospital before now.

At first just because his stubborn pride insisted that he couldn’t show weakness/care for someone else because he was above them all, that he had to constantly act like Deku was below him. Even when he recognized Deku as a rival he didn’t visit, partly because of lingering pride but mostly because he felt like he didn’t deserve to.

He was too much of a coward/slave to his pride to risk being turned away.

This time he hadn’t even considered Deku might not want him, he had just selfishly insisted he stay by his side for his own peace of mind.

To see Deku wanted him here but couldn’t understand why Katsuki would want to be here himself left his fingers feeling numb as all the adrenaline drained out of him.

Deku studied Kacchan intently, his explosive rival had turned to him and risen half out his chair looking like he was about to shout at him but when their eyes locked the words had apparently died on his tongue.

Now Kacchan was just staring at him with an unreadable expression entirely unmoving after he plopped back in his seat, never breaking eye contact. It was clear now that Kacchan hadn’t understood his question at first but now he seemed lost at how to answer.

Deku wanted to wait for Kacchan to speak but experience told him he shouldn’t hold his breath.

Besides it was late, as much as he desperately didn’t want him to go, Kacchan should be safely asleep in his own room. It’d be selfish to ask him to stay.

Kacchan probably hadn’t meant to stay as late as he did, he was just prone to falling asleep wherever he was once 9 pm rolled around. Deku knew first hand that Auntie Mitsuki had a very strict bedtime policy that had long been physically instilled into Kacchans psyche.

“Kacchan, it’s late you should head back to the dorms and get some real sleep. I feel fine.” At the sudden incredulous tweak of a blonde eyebrow, Deku rushed to elaborate, “I mean I'm of course tired, and a sore but I feel whole. This is a familiar routine for me, I’m okay.”

Katsuki thought back to what he told All Might a lifetime ago, “he never considers himself”.

Here Deku was laying in a hospital bed concerned about his sleep and knowing just what he wanted/needed to hear, that Deku was okay, straight from the source.

It’s all he’d wanted to hear for almost a week now and he had to press his lips shut into a tight line to keep the embarrassing whimper he felt clawing at his throat from escaping.

“I know that you can go to the front desk and the attendant will call for a UA shuttle, doesn’t matter the time, Todoroki has left as late as 3 am”

Oh if that didn’t have something ugly snapping its jaws and thirsty for blood inside Katsuki. At heart, he’s always been explosively petty.

As much comfort as Todoroki being almost equally worried about Deku had been over the last week anytime anyone so much as even accidentally hinted at the ways Katsuki had failed to be there for Deku before now had him seeing red.

Reminding him how others had stepped up and into the places, Katsuki felt he should have been, felt like a slap in the face. But coming from Deku the anger he felt turned inward.

Where he usually saw red, all he saw was green. Not the warm emerald hue of Deku sitting in front of him, but dark bitter jealous green.

Petulant ‘whys’ clawed at his ribs. Why did people who’d only know Deku for a year have a more prominent roles in the nerds life than he did after knowing him forever, why did Deku have to like those extras so damn much, why didn’t he realize sooner how important Deku was, why did he have to care about any of that at all, why did Deku have to bring up that goddamn candy cane, why did Deku want to send him away, why wasn’t Deku even half as desperate to stay by his side as he was, why why why?!

He voiced none of these thoughts, instead just continued staring grumpily ahead. Hoping Deku didn’t notice how heavy his breathing had gotten or how he tightened his grip on the chair's armrests.

Deku took another sip of water before continuing. “I’m happy you’re here, really, it means a lot to me.” He let a genuine full smile slip on his face, he didn’t want Kacchan thinking he wasn’t grateful for his presence.

He really was happy that Kacchan was the first person he got to see upon waking up.

Circumstantial or not the fact that Kacchan was here with him now was a deep comfort to him and a pleasant way to wake up. Usually, it was to his classmates' forced positivity or his overly fussy weeping mother and that never got easier to deal with. As confusing as the change was it was a nice one. And he told him as much.

Why did Deku always know exactly what to say to people? When he, Katsuki Bakugo, couldn’t say anything at all.

Normally the instant relief his body felt at Deku’s words just pissed him off, but tonight exhaustion took its toll.

He felt the tears he’d been fighting all week fall hot and sticky down his cheeks, embarrassment shame and guilt tinted his face a splotchy pink. When he felt the lump in his throat give way to a choked hiccup he didn’t just crack, he shattered.

Ugly sobs racked through him and he buried his face in his hands and dug his fingers into his hair.

Why was the only familiar part of this him breaking down in front of Deku? He’s known Deku his whole life. He should have been the first and last person in Deku’s hospital room every time from the very beginning if for nothing more than obligation. Any one of those times could have been the last time.

Deku would have slipped away from him, and Katsuki would have been one of the last ones to know.

He hadn’t because he knew it’d always end up like this, him blubbering like a baby over Dekus hospital bed and he couldn’t risk it before. Too desperate to keep that little voice inside him that picks apart his every sign of weakness quiet.

It never goes away and UA had made it so much louder, he couldn’t give more feed to the fire. That’s exactly what Deku does to him.

On bad days Katsuki feels the little claws of insecurity scratching at his brain comparing him to Deku, that Deku’s surpassing him because he’s weak and he’s going to get left behind, he’s going to be forgotten.

On equally bad days he surpasses Deku completely and the voice switches gears, telling him he doesn’t deserve Dekus praises. That he’s a hopeless brat with an oversized ego and Deku’s words are empty. Katsuki hasn’t earned them, and he never will, Deku’s just placating him.

Katsuki doesn’t have good days.

Why did he even care though, Deku has seen him cry a dozen times and never once has it changed anything, hell Deku cries all the time.

But Deku’s never been debilitated by crying the way he is, Deku always keeps moving like he doesn’t even notice he’s crying. But he, Katsuki, can barely breathe around his tears.

Because he’s weak and a coward and everything Dekus not. Deku’s light years ahead of him in being a better person and by proxy a better hero and he’s never going to catch up.

Delirious with exhaustion Katsukis thoughts keep spiraling out of his control, growing more and more vicious.

He doesn’t even deserve to call himself Dekus' rival, Deku’s going to leave him behind, Deku’s going to keep taking on the world by himself because he’s not strong enough to fight alongside him, Dekus going to get himself killed and it’s all his fault. He’s hyperventilating through his sobs now.

“Wha- Kacchan, what’s wrong?” Deku suppressed a small groan at stretching stiff unused muscles as his scrambled brain had him lurch forward to grasp Kacchans wrists, he can see where blunt nails dig into his scalp. Gently as he could, Deku replaces callused hands with his crooked ones.

“Hey look at me.” He lifted Kacchans head to meet his eyes and took deep slow dramatic breaths encouraging Kacchan to match his breathing. Red eyes frantically scanned his face and clutched his wrists tightly like a lifeline, desperate that Deku doesn’t pull away.

Slowly their breathing synchronized, the tears kept flowing though, Deku was certain he was crying now too but he made no move to confirm this. He just kept watching Kacchan, keeping his own breathing steady. This wasn’t the first time he’s had Kacchan match his breathing, but it is the first time he’s been this close and this obvious about it. Then again Kacchans never looked this desperate.

In the past when he’s noticed Kacchans breathing has sped up and his gaze looks far away he’ll nonchalantly sit down next to him like he hasn’t noticed Kacchans problem at all, then he’ll practice his own breathing exercises a little louder than would be considered polite. Consciously or not Kacchan follows suit.

He’d learned the tactic when he was 7 from his mom helping one of their neighbors on the way to the store, a very nice lady he called Auntie Kay. She had some kind of disorder that gave her bad anxiety and had apparently forgotten to take meds that morning and got overwhelmed by the noise. His mom used to be an assisted living caregiver before she became, well his mom, so she had experience with this kind of thing.

Later she explained what she’d been doing. That you're someone they have a long history of trusting you don’t want to get in their space, just reaffirm to them that they’re safe and try to get them to slow their breathing, focus on breathing out.

1, because It’s hard to concentrate if you don’t feel safe. 2, the human body doesn’t know if it has enough oxygen, it knows if it’s getting enough air and if it has too much carbon dioxide in it, and you breathe out carbon dioxide.

That day his mom was like a mini hero, saving the day with a smile. It made him more aware that there’s more to being a hero than just fighting villains, it’s about saving people.

He can’t fight villains from a hospital bed, he could still be there for others. He could be there for Kacchan.

After a minute he hesitantly thumbed away the freshest tears but that seemed to just make things worse as another sob racked through Kacchan and he tightened his grip on his wrists. It wasn’t until Kacchan finally spoke and he reflexively snapped his jaw shut that Deku realized he’d been making soft shushing noises.

Katsuki tightened his grip on Deku’s wrists as he choked on one last sob thinking that Deku was finally pulling away, but when he just continued to thumb his tears away and making soft little noises he let himself believe Deku wasn’t going to dismiss him again.

Katsukis never let himself be comforted like this by anyone, not even as a child, but he was too tired to fight it, too distraught to care about how selfish he’s sure he’s being, and too certain that Deku was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He’s confronted his own mortality a few times this year but none of it had compared to being confronted in real-time with Dekus. Living with Deku so close to death over the last week had taken its toll on everyone but Katsuki especially had been unraveling more and more each day.

The first day he’d been ready to bring the entire hospital down if he didn’t get to Deku’s side immediately. It only got worse from there.

He’d grown more cantankerous than he’d ever been, but the fire in him had been dying out. By the time Deku first woke up and didn’t recognize him the only thing he’d say to anyone was the same mumbled shut up, only sometimes accompanied by half-hearted sparks daring anyone to try to remove him from the room.

Auntie Inko was distraught too but she had let All Might take her home after that first visit and encouraged her to rest there saying something about how no mother should have to see this side of hero work or whatever.

The doctors were probably just worried about what all those tears might do to their equipment, Katsuki certainly had been even if he hadn’t said so.

Katsuki had promised Inko he’d stay by Deku’s' side, she’d looked conflicted about something but they both silently agreed that was a discussion for another day.

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say now but desperately feels like he needs to say something.

He’s terrified it’ll all come out wrong and freak Deku out, Deku who just woke up for real for the first time! He’s terrified of saying nothing and losing his chance to say anything at all because Deku just woke up for real for the first time in a week!

Deku deserves to hear him apologize for everything, but he doesn’t feel like he’s ready to be forgiven and if Deku doesn’t forgive he doesn’t know what’ll happen to him, he may very well implode.

If Deku turns him away then the kindest thing the universe could do for him would be to ignite every nitroglycerin-soaked cell in his body and just let him go. But the universe isn’t kind and will instead make him force himself out of this room and into a UA shuttle and into a life where everything green fades into bleak gray.

“Kacchan, your muttering” Deku says with the softest smile Katsuki has ever seen, and he feels like all his broken pieces have begun melting.

Deku stays silent, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. He seems content with doing nothing more than smiling at him until the sun comes up. And Katsuki feels another sob rip through him as he forces himself to speak.

“I meant it when I told you to keep your eyes on me.” The desperation in his own voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. “I want you to know to look for me, and that I’ll be there. Even outside of heroing. I want you to expect me at every turn, forever. I don’t wanna be unexpected”

Deku leans forward and Katsuki thinks he’ll stop breathing all over again until their foreheads bump together. Deku’s looking right in his eyes, and he’s so close Katsuki's eyes can barely focus on him. They just stay like that for a small eternity while Katsuki’s heart beats wildly for entirely different reasons. One’s he’s not sure he’s ready to understand.

“Okay, Kacchan”

[purpleyellow]

It’s not enough

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“The remarkable world of Mark Lee’s mind” or, Mark rethinkgs his entire history with Bee.

a/n: I finished it!! Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛 this gif is peak devastation 

All Mark could think when Bee first joined the group was “Thank God for Lee Jeno”.

Noticing that while she didn’t know how to express herself in front of them, Jeno was the first to give her a sense of comfort. Mark, after getting nervous for not knowing how to be helpful, told himself that eventually, Bee would get close to him too. He had a year, after all, to become friends and grow a bond with her.

Except that a year doesn’t last that long and little girls don’t come with instructions.

He knows she cried on his last showcase with Dream. But Mark has a feeling she only did so because of the occasion. She was seeing the seven best friends she witnessed together being separated, and that’s a heartbreaking sight when you know how close they are together.

Two years later, Mark realizes that was his big mistake. It wasn’t on purpose but along the way, he isolated the girl from their original friend group, and maybe it’s what caused some sort of distance in between them.

The year following his departure was an eventful one, and the boy grew a lot, experienced a lot, and learned a lot. The best part of everything being that whenever he met with their little friend group, his spot was intact and everything was the same. Except for Bee. Mark would see how she had inevitably built her own place within the dreamies, and it had him feeling weirdly left out even though they were perfectly coexisting.

They went on being coworkers and labeling each other as friends despite the weird lack of bond, until, of course, the whole “crush” fiasco went down. Mark saw himself and the girl going from, no correlation besides being in the same friend group, to suddenly facing a crisis that revolved around her feelings and his lack of knowledge about how she works.

The image he had of her, was built on a shallow level based on how others perceived her. That’s his second mistake. Jeno, and some of his Hyungs, were almost protective over Bee. Renjun and Jaemin treated her like their personal teddy bear. Haechan, Chenle, and to some extent Jisung were not worth going over in his head, because he thought that if he joked around as they did, she would probably get offended.

So there Mark was, trying to work around, this seemingly fragile character, while finding out that she saw him as a friend more than he did to her. And that maybe all the stress he had gone through to make sure she was being “protected” was worthless and seemingly ignored. He was a bit selfish for wanting to do the right thing simply for others to notice him, but that’s how he knew things. That's how he had to build a career for himself, he needed to get recognition from others to do the things he had done. And maybe connecting everything to work was another mistake.

“What’cha thinking about?” Chenle throws his coat on top of Mark’s head after realizing the practice room wasn’t empty. Though the boy was so deep in thought he didn’t realize the idol had arrived until he announced himself.

“Just life” Mark groans while laying back on the ground, his phone left on the floor next to him. The younger boy walked to the side, taking a glance at the screen before smirking.

“And by life, do you mean someone special?” He teases and Mark's hands fly to the device, the notes app open on the words he had mindlessly typed. He knew Chenle didn’t have time to actually read everything, but the title gave away enough. “The little ballerina”

“I’m trying to see things through a different lens” The Canadian spoke looking sideways at him. Gesturing he continued “Yesterday, I tried talking to her back at the van, but to be honest I had no idea what to say. Apparently, there's no good way to approach it, but I kind of feel like there might be”

“Markie, Markie. Don’t overthink anything. What do we do when we have a schedule that we’re not particularly good at?” Chenle placed a hand behind his ear and waited for the boy to say.

“We go ahead and just do it”

“So do just that” The boy snapped, “Between you and me, Yun-hee doesn't know what she wants. At one point she's all certain about 'moving on' or whatever, yet then when you ask her for any details of what she's feeling, she completely ignores you”.

“You asked her about it?” Mark's head snaps up frowning and the boy nods. “What did she say? Does-”

“Did you not listen to what I just say? She brushed me off” Chenle rolls his eyes “But I think she still likes you if that's worth something. Maybe not the way she did back when Haechan dropped the bomb”.

“What do you mean? Like a friend?” He questions confused, decreasing the younger's patience.

“No, Mark. The same way you like her now”.

“Chenle, I already told her, and all of you, that I don't feel like that towards Bee” Mark’s tone gets more serious and the younger groans annoyed.

“You two are so slow, we literally have to put words in your mouth to get things going” Chenle speaks quicker trying to get his point across. “It's really obvious you care about Bee more than you did at the beginning of last year. And okay, let's say you don't have a little thing for her or whatever, but you do want to have some sort of relationship with her, don't you?”

“Yeah, being friends for once would be nice” Mark nods, sarcastically, and gets up from the floor. “I really just want this all to end”

Mark left the room shortly after and being honest with himself, he felt a little light-headed with everything Chenle just told him. Putting most things aside to revisit once he had a clearer mind, the boy decided to put into use the one good advice he could find in the middle of everything. When you have a particularly hard task, you just have to go ahead and do it.

So with that, his plan was built. And by plan, he means to have no prepared speech, and no questions to ask, instead figure out everything after he finally finds a way of talking to her, which has been harder than anticipated.

A couple of days later, while he went down to the sm cafe before it was time to be at the studio, Mark quite literally froze in place at the sight of a certain Stray Kids member standing near a wall.

Waving shyly at him and Renjun, Seungmin waited awkwardly to see if they would come near him.

"Bee shouldn't take much longer" Renjun caught Mark by surprise, as he approached the boy calmly "Her recording session is almost done, but we can show you the studio if you want to wait for her there"

"No, it's fine" Seungmin smiled, though a little intimidated by Mark's frown. "I'll just sit wherever if it takes too long"

"I'm sorry, you two are going out?" The laugh followed by Mark's question was a little nervous, considering he had only seen the boy a few times yet here he was waiting for Bee to be done so they could do... something?

"No, no. Bee's going to meet Moon, I'm just the intermediate" Seungmin tries to joke but Renjun is the only one laughing. Clearing his throat, he explains further "My group was nearby and we're meeting Ateez for dinner so Moon asked if I could come to pick her up"

"Yun-hee is staying over at her dorm" Renjun adds, glaring sideways at the Canadian. "A sleepover or whatever you want to call it" The three fall silent after he's done talking and Mark runs over an explanation as to why he's feeling so frustrated over this conversation.

He and Bee hadn’t properly spoken since the award show shooting. And while forced interactions were the bare minimum, the boy felt as if the distance they kept had triplicated its length. It made him feel odd to see her act normally with everyone, including a boy she hadn’t spoken to for a year. So why couldn’t they be normal as well?

"Well, I'm going ahead and get a coffee. She should be coming anytime, though being late is kind of expected at this point" The comment from Renjun makes Seungmin chuckle and both boys nod to each other. Turning to Mark, he frowns at his wondering expression "You coming?"

"I'm heading up actually, it's my turn on studio 3" He shakes his head and waves at them. The elevator doesn't seem to take much longer to arrive, which Mark thinks might be some weird doing of fate, considering as soon as he makes it to his floor, Bee is walking along the hallway. Or was, because she changes her path the moment she spots him

Acting purely on instinct might not be the smartest thing to do, the boy thinks to himself while chasing her through the building without any idea of what he wants to say once "catching" her. Maybe Kun hiding Bee in his studio and obviously lying to him was a good thing, or at least it gave him another day to think about where he wants to stand with her.

Ironically, a couple of days after, he's in fact standing in front of a door while thinking if he should or not enter and hopefully settle everything. Mark opens the door slowly, analyzing the small room with two chairs in which she's sitting on one.

“Can we talk now?” He waits for her positive to walk inside and Bee does so by simply nodding. Her eyes looked a little tired and uninterested, but the small tremor on her hands told him how present she really was. And just like the first time they met, her nervousness contaminated him, and they just sat inside the small room without looking at each other in silence.

"I, um, have been thinking about everything since that game night" Mark clears his throat and starts speaking towards the floor "And, not that you owe me anything, but I'd just like to know what happened"

Frowning, Bee quickly glances at him "What do you mean, what happened?"

"When did you start, kind of seeing me in that way. And how did it stop, I guess. It just feels like a lot happened that I'm not aware of, and it's making me look back and reconsider some stuff, I'll explain that later, just let me know what I missed"

Bee thought of how she would put things into words and twirled the ring on her finger, taking a deep breath she tried to make herself comfortable on the chair

"It started around when you came back from the SuperM tour. Or maybe before that, I'm not sure” She sighs and picks at her nails “It seemed like that boy I met was gone after you graduated, and you became this even cooler rapper, you became more confident in yourself, literally embodied SM's favorite child. I sort of became stunned, this feels really weird to say, but I couldn't really recognize you"

Mark slowly looks at Bee while she's talking and carefully listens, he feels a little more comfortable not to look away once she raises her head again. Once she stops, he nods turning his chair a little so they're more face to face.

"You feel out of it after you find out I'm still the awkward boy from before" His jokes make her shrug as opposed to the giggle he expected to hear.

"That happened, but also, you did turn me down" Bee bites her lip regretting the word choice "Not that I'm mad, or really hoped for anything, I simply didn't want to push anything or make things too weird. That's why going back to normal was such a huge thing, but it's been a really long time since then and we still don't know how to do that, I guess"

"Maybe it's because we didn't exactly have a normal, at least not the one we're trying to do right now" Mark catches her attention and she gestures for him to keep going "Thinking back to when we first met, we never got close just the two of us. The others were always around, and even then, I can't recall us sticking together or anything. That might be why you thought I was different"

"It makes sense" The girl mumbles tilting her head and frowning. If he was true, that would mean her crush had been based on this picture of him she drew on her head. And while part of it certainly was, Bee also knows that a little percentage came from his actual responsible yet boyish and kind personality she still appreciates to this day.

"I guess it does" Mark nods reading her face "We should probably find a way to work around that. Just get closer in general, I guess. Find out what our dynamic is like without blending in with the rest of the boys and ignoring each other" He speaks hopefully, but Bee fears it might not work again.

"But, what if this is it for us. We didn't naturally become friends, so maybe accountancies it's what we should stick with" She doesn't know if she meant it, or was scared of this whole 'finding out' deal and its consequences. From what she knew, Bee could easily slip back into her feelings for him and end up breaking her face again.

Yet Mark wasn't having it. He'd spent way too much time, especially lately, noticing how she was comfortable with the others, and the nice chemistry they had. He felt left out, not as in ignored, but Bee was sweet, and a little quirky which also made her funny, but still very caring, and he never denied she was pretty. He wanted to know what it’s like to be her friend like the others are. Though this moment might be the first time he questions if a friendship will be enough for him.

"Let's put an effort this time" He shakes his head dismissing her comment "We can stick around in the practice room a little longer now that our schedules mostly match. And you know, hang out together more, no running away or ignoring each other"

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bee bounces up her leg and thinks a little bit.

"For what it's worth, we can try. We spent a good time in here and it didn't get awkward, so there’s hope" Mark giggles and she follows him "It'll make the teamwork better if you need a greater good to support your decisions"

"Okay" Bee nods making him shyly hold out a fistbump to her. Making up a quick and weird handshake, they laugh together lighting up the mood a little.

"Just a little request" The girl stops Mark as he's getting up "Let's not rush things, you know. Make it more natural than acting like we're forcefully acting as friends"

"Yeah, sure" Mark pats her head opening the door. And to everyone, especially the dreamies’, happiness, they're a little less awkward around each other.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Epiphany

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Finally back in the U.S., you and Peter get a mini shopping trip with the others, where you get a special gift for him. Followed by your ride back alone together to his house near D.C. and an abrupt introduction to his family.

Warnings: Mostly just more fluff. Bit of a dysfunctional family implied. Not proofread too well as I didn’t have much free time left and wanted to get this posted.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

You were groggy, legs stiff as you’d finally made it out of that plane. Honestly, when this was all said and done you’d be happy to not travel again for a very long time.

But the important thing was that you were home. Well, sort of. You were getting a lot closer anyway. McGuire air force base in New Jersey was bustling with activity as you’d all been shuffled around after landing.

Moira had said goodbye, staying here to work some more as it seemed this had become a temporary east coast operations point for more than just the air force. But she’d arranged it so you all could take a van off base together to find the nearest rental car lot.

Which that was when you really started feeling this was your last chance to inwardly practice whatever your speech was going to be to Xavier. You were going to volunteer to drive Peter home, splitting off from the others when they’d no doubt be heading north for New York.

The van hadn’t been the most comfortable thing in the world either as you’d all piled into it with Hank driving. Moira had told the Professor to just leave it after you all got something else rented, and that someone from the base would come and get it later.

Besides a little shared complaining from the group about being continually shoved into one thing after another lately, helicopters, to jets, to aircraft carriers, and now this, there wasn’t really too much said though. That silence likely somewhat due to jet lag as well. But when Xavier had signaled to Hank to stop after seeing a bank you were about to pass, that’s when Peter seemed to perk back up.

And by the time this older van had clunked its way into the parking lot and come to a stop, Peter was on the verge of fully laughing.

“What?” Ororo finally asked, Peter sitting between her and you both here in the back of the van.

“Nothing.” Peter respond just as quickly, though still seeming far too entertained as Raven had helped Xavier out of the van and back into his wheelchair before the two of them had gone inside the bank together.

You and Ororo just exchanged an odd glance, before Jean revealed the answer all too easily. “Peter thinks we’d make a terrible cast for a heist movie. He’s thinking about robbing the bank and imagining a poorly executed role for all of us.”

“Hey!” Peter complained. “You really don’t play fair. I think about a lot of things without actually do-”

“Seriously?” Scott asked, looking back at you all.

“Oh, come on. One eye beam and the vault would crack like an egg.” Peter retorted, “Do you guys not ever daydream?”

“About crime?” You questioned.

“I did give the kid his markers back didn’t I?” Peter asked.

“What kid?” Hank looked back as well.

“Oh, except this one.” Peter pulled out the dark blue marker that’d still been stashed in his pocket. “The kid still had a light blue one anyway. He’ll live. You guys need to sign my cast!”

—————————

The Professor had apparently recognized that bank as one he had some accounts with, and you’d assumed he had gone in to withdraw some spending money for the remainder of the trip.

But when Hank drove you all to a nearby department store next instead of continuing on straight to the rental car lot that had been the supposed goal the entire time, you were surprised. Even more so when the Professor had called for you, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo specifically.

“I know this isn’t much,” Charles explained, before passing each of the four of you a small amount of cash. “But the staff staying with the displaced students at the motel did already take them shopping for at least some bare necessities. You deserve the same until we can provide better.”

It was still entirely generous and unexpected though as you’d all exited the van, then fully understanding the point of this additional pit stop. With the destruction of the mansion, and with Ororo not even being from here, the four of you now had not a single possession to your names except the Air Force issued clothing you’d left the aircraft carrier with.

Scott and Peter were a little bit different story, Scott was expected to go back home with his parents for a while and no doubt everything he still had there, and Peter having lost nothing really except the one outfit that had burnt up in the jet’s crash in Egypt.

But you knew a little better of how he felt about that, not missing the way Peter was already eyeing things as the two of you had split off from the rest of the group once entering the department store.

Your only real goal was at least getting a comfortable pair of tennis shoes to replace the awful boots they’d given you and a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, socks, and underwear. Just the very minimum, that was fine for you.

You tried to be quick, knowing it was still a little unfair to make Peter just watch you shop when he could take nothing for himself. Albeit, you doubted much here was really his style anyway.

You did half expect him to give you a harder time as well on your own choices, but found him quite distracted as you’d walked back and forth looking at one rack then another of clothes.

Finally you realized why, catching him still lingering at a glass display case you’d already passed more than once as you then circled back to him with a bit of clothing in your arms.

As you came up to stand beside him, you looked down to see the multiple men’s watches all glinting up in the light from beneath the glass.

You smiled, putting two and two together easily enough as you glanced back to him and that clearly longing expression on his face. “Which one do you like?”

He blinked, just seeming to realize your attention was back on him then as he tried to look nonchalant. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not going to steal it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“It’s what Mr. Smiley over there, the store detective was thinking.” Peter commented a little more quietly, just motioning his eyes to a man standing off to the side.

The man didn’t look “smiley” at all of course, appearing to consider the same display of pants over and over as he’d pick one size up and then put it back down as if he wasn’t watching you both.

You chose to ignore the stranger, just reiterating back to Peter instead. “Come on, which one do you want?”

You could see by the tags that they weren’t exactly cheap, but certainly weren’t Rolex’s either. This was doable.

But Peter only met eyes with you again. “Seriously, I can get one later. I’ll live.”

His old watch had been destroyed. And you hadn’t forgotten what importance it had to him. “That wasn’t the point.” Already deciding you were sure about this, you dug back into your pocket, pulling out money and putting it on the glass in front him.

“I’m going to go put some of these clothes back, get somebody’s attention to come open the case for you.”

He stared, trying to turn around to stop you, but you were already out of his reach as you smiled, just disappearing back behind some nearby clothing racks.

You intentionally took longer than necessary as well as you did put back enough of the clothes to make up for the money you’d given him. You wanted to make sure he really did follow through with having them get one of the watches out before you’d come anywhere near again.

It took a while, but he must have finally relented, unable to resist the temptation, and reinforcing your thought that he really had seen one he especially wanted as you’d finally wandered over once more just as the saleswoman had been handing it over to him.

She rang it up then and there at the counter as he’d immediately put it on that empty spot on his left wrist.

Curious, you’d tried to get a better look at which one he’d picked, moving closer before he suddenly swung his right arm out, catching you around the shoulders and pulling you even closer even with the awkwardness of his crutch still under that arm.

You felt a warm kiss planted just as fast on your cheek before you could respond. The saleswoman giving you both an odd look as Peter only grinned to you. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you at some point. Promise.”

You moved slightly, not really caring about the money or the stares of any of the store staff as you still tried to get a look at the watch, grabbing his hand. “Well which one did you get?”

He let you take his hand easily, grasping his fingers around your own in return as he tilted his wrist to let you get a good view. “Check it out, digital face, but it counts seconds and hundredths of a second. And you can change it to stopwatch mode too. Also water resistant to 100 meters...though not quite sure when I’d need that.”

“Jean said the motel the others were staying at has a pool,” You commented lightly, though still looking at the bright, silver colored metal watch band and face. “Quicksilver.” You added absently, reading the model name also etched there.

He paused, “What did you say?”

“Oh, the pool? Jean said the Professor mentioned that, though he still is looking for some place less rundown-”

“No, what you said after.”

“Huh?” You glanced back up.

“Quick what?”

“Oh.” You realized, turning your hand which was still holding his so the etching would better face him as well. “That must be the model.”

He must have not even noticed until that point, also reading it then. But he pulled you in even a little closer then as he leaned his head against yours, seeming to contemplate something.

“What?” You asked.

“I think I just had a...hell, what do you call them? Epitaph?”

Your eyebrows raised, looking at him in real confusion then. “Um...like on a gravestone?”

“No, no.” He was still trying to find the word. “Dammit, when the light bulb goes off you know...like something hits you and it’s awesome!”

“Epiphany?” You questioned after another moment, though still highly unsure of where this was going.

“Yes! Totally!” He let go of your hand then, before giving an awkward high five as you hadn’t been expecting it.

But you were still thoroughly confused, even as the saleswoman had now excused herself, gladly wandering off to assist other customers. And even the store detective just coughed somewhere in the distance, finding you both no longer a theft threat as much as just just two more weird young people he was not going to ever understand.

——————————

If anyone noticed that the amount of things you rang up were visibly less than what Jean, Ororo, and Kurt had gotten, no one said anything.

Soon enough you were all back in the van again, but Peter kept admiring the watch still. The odd beep and chime going off on it every now and then as he played with its functions.

It was evident enough, that even the Professor finally looked back at him. Which Peter noticed as well just grinning. “I didn’t steal it.” He proclaimed proudly.

“I know you didn’t,” Xavier answered, but then giving you an odd look next.

You tried to smile back, but weren’t sure if this might now be the time to bring up your plan or not with the Professor’s attention on you. Yet before you could think to say anything more, Peter just added happily. “Oh, and Prof., if you do reboot the X-Men, I’m Quicksilver. So I call dibs on that, the rest of you will have to think of your own stuff. Though I’m pretty creative, I can help for maybe a small fee if you need inspiration.”

“Seriously?” You answered, just turning your head to look at Peter then.

But you were even more surprised when Xavier actually looked impressed for a moment. “Quicksilver? Hmm. An old nickname for liquid mercury. Which of course in the Roman pantheon, Mercury was also the god of trickery, thieves, and often depicted with wings on his feet as the fastest of the gods. He-”

“Uh.” Peter interrupted. “I was more thinking that my hair is silver and I’m quick. Also this badass watch (Y/N) bought me says that on it. But that god stuff is cool too I guess.”

You heard Raven about snort laughing as the Professor’s thoughtful expression quickly faded. “Fair enough.”

—————————

By the time you did reach the rental car lot, you tried to get Xavier’s attention before he could go inside the rental office with Raven. You almost jogged up to him actually, that worried about missing your chance.

Yet as you reached him, you saw him wave Raven off, telling her he would be just a moment. She only shrugged, walking ahead inside.

Before you could even open your mouth though, he just gave you another curious look. “You know, for all your worrying about this, it’s the ride home that I’m more concerned about. You realize from Washington D.C. back to New York, that’s going to be about a five hour drive all on your own.”

You don’t know why you felt any surprise. Honestly it was more of a relief though that you didn’t have to explain everything from scratch. Having a psychic as a father figure had its benefits at times, if otherwise you felt you would have difficulty communicating something.

“I promise I’ll call as soon as I get to Peter’s and again when I leave?” You offered with hope.

“I’d really feel better if you had one of the others to ride back with...” He countered, but giving a sympathetic look. “You know, of all my students, I just...you really are one of the last I’d expect to befriend him this way. And I say that with me actually being quite fond of him. Though admittedly I did think him just a pain in the arse when I first met him. I didn’t have my powers then though to see any deeper. So it wasn’t the best first impression to be honest.”

You both glanced over at Peter who now seemed preoccupied with playing with those stolen sunglasses as he just chatted with the others. He’d agreed to let you plea the case to Xavier on your own, thinking you could probably be the more sincere and convincing of the two of you.

“I think he’d really like to come to the school once everything’s rebuilt,” You added, looking back to the Professor.

“Yes, I know.” Xavier agreed. “He’s really hit it off with you all. He’s enjoyed this despite everything else. It’s nice to see, really. Though...I do still worry about the inevitably of his father returning. There will still be a lot to unpack there. And Erik may not want him at the school as much as Erik’s always disagreed with some of my worldviews.”

You frowned a little, having not thought about Magneto in quite a while now. “If he cares about Peter at all though, you’d think he’d realize it’d be better for him to be somewhere he had friends. Where he’s happy...”

“One would hope.” Xavier answered, but then looking to you once more. “You’re sure about this aren’t you? Determined to make the drive back alone?”

“I mean, if anyone tried to give me trouble, I could always use my powers.” Yet you still smirked, parroting his teaching you’d heard for years. “But still as discreetly as possible of course.”

He took a breath, that concern still not leaving his expression even as he relented. “You have come a long way since that little child I met all those years ago.”

“I wasn’t that little.” You smiled, knowing full well which day he was remembering. When you’d been sitting, feeling abandoned in that airport as your real father had been explaining again this place you were being sent to in New York. Saying he’d call you all the time once you got there, all the while you knew he never would.

That’d been the first day you’d ever met Charles. When your own family was too afraid of you, when they were far happier to have you move across the country. But Xavier had flown all the way there just to share the plane ride back to New York, with your stubborn, silent self.

Abruptly you leaned down, putting your arms around the Professor’s shoulders as you hugged him. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” You said, knowing full well how close you all had come to losing him only a few days ago.

He laughed lightly, but returned the gesture even though he was a little surprised. “Or you’re just happy to get your way. Do be careful alright? Both of you.”

“I promise. Thank you.” You smiled, really meaning it before you let go of him to stand back up.

As you did so, you could see Peter looking your way. He gave a questioning expression, then turning his thumb down then up as if to ask the results.

You smirked, nodding as him thumb went up to confirm the Professor had agreed with your plan.

“Sweet!” You heard Peter exclaim from all the way over there.

————————

Xavier had given you the phone number to the motel in New York that the others were driving to. They’d gotten another van, though thankfully a little newer than the beaten up government one they were now leaving behind.

A car had been rented for you and Peter. A blazing red thing you now leaned against as you waited for him. You’d already said your goodbyes, which were pretty brief as you expected to see the others again soon.

You were still close enough to overhear as Peter got to Scott however. It caught your attention as you’d heard Peter’s tone change.

“Hey, man...I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t get your brother out.”

It was the first time you’d heard Peter talk about that specifically with Scott. But when would have been the right time?

Yet Peter kept on pretty quickly, the awkwardness obviously still there even with that hint of guilt. “If um, if I lived closer you know, or I wasn’t in this damn thing-” He’d motioned to his cast. “I’d run up there and go to the service too. I mean, I know how important siblings are...”

Scott seemed a little taken aback himself, but shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. None of it would have happened if it wasn’t for that psycho god, whatever we want to call him. And he got his. It’s all we can do.”

You could hear the little bit of waver in Scott’s voice though, and you knew the sad reality would likely be that it still wouldn’t fully hit him that Alex was truly gone until Scott was back home with his parents, and his brother was glaringly absent.

But Peter just patted him on the shoulder before walking back to you on his crutches.

His eyes were still a bit sad, but he smiled at you as he neared you. “Well, ready for a roadtrip, babe?”

“They gave us a road atlas, so I think so.” You answered, already walking to open the passenger door for him.

“Ah, maps are for suckers.” He answered, handing you his crutches so he could sit down in the seat. “Sure, it’ll look way different going so slow, but I have an excellent sense of direction.”

“Uh huh,” You responded with a healthy bit of skepticism. “We’ll see.”

—————————

“So...we’re finally alone.” Peter said, still snacking on whatever brightly colored candy that actually was that you’d grabbed from the gas station for him.

“Sure, and going seventy miles an hour on the interstate, while I need to keep my hands on the wheel and eyes on the road to not kill us, yes.” You answered.

“It’s practically a straight line, it about drives itself.” He responded, but while just fiddling with the radio for the umpteenth time.

Every time a station went to commercial, it was clear he couldn’t handle the wait for the music to come back, only trying to find something else to listen to right away.

You finally laughed a little as he’d accidentally found some other talk show yet again.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for that dial to fall off in your hand.”

“Man, you think one of these gas stations has some cassettes or something?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, are you hungry yet?”

You shrugged. “I could probably eat.” The bit of food on the plane had been pretty awful. You hadn’t even finished it.

“I need to pee anyway.”

“Again?” You glanced at him. “That’s gotta be the Mountain Dew.”

“Oh yeah, that’s all gone.” He shook his empty cup, just the sound of ice jostling around in it. “I’m thinking Dr. Pepper now...and a cheeseburger. Maybe McDonalds?”

“Sure.” It really didn’t matter to you. All those fast food places were all about the same. “Golden Arches it is then...let me know if you see an exit with one and I’ll-”

“There was one.” He pointed as it went right by.

“Um...one with a little more notice please.”

“Got it. I’m on watch, captain.” He gave a little mocking salute, before pulling his sunglasses back down as if that would somehow help his focus as he stared out to all the upcoming exit signs ahead.

——————————

He was adamant about going inside to eat instead of just going through the drive thru once you did find the next McDonalds. You wondered if he was trying to stretch out your time together a little more.

Which you would have no complaints if so, now laughing as you sat at a table inside. You’d seen the odd looks an older couple had given you as they’d come in, and Peter was fairly certain it was due to his silver hair.

“I mean I could always try a mohawk, full on punk if they think this is too weird,” He commented, pulling some of the silver bangs back in front his face as he chewed on some fries. “I still think Ororo’s is badass, but I don’t know if I have the right head shape for it. What do you think?”

“What head shape is a person supposed to have?” You asked, seriously not knowing, but still smiling.

“Of course even the best hair gel doesn’t hold up too well when I run. It probably wouldn’t stay up long.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, are you even listening to me or just admiring the view?” He grinned in what you were sure was supposed to be his attempt at a dashing look, albeit with a little bit of ketchup still at the corner of his mouth.

“Can’t I do both?” You answered wryly, just taking another sip of your drink.

“You gonna stay for a little bit after we get to my house?” He asked abruptly then.

“Well I wasn’t planning on just throwing you in the yard and driving away. But it is a decent drive back to New York.”

“You could spend the night.”

You quieted, that warmth rising back in your chest. But you didn’t think he meant it that way. You chose to believe that anyway.

“Well it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.” He continued.

“Slept in the same bed.” You quickly corrected. “In the same bed. With clothes on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Semantics. And it was nice, right?”

“It was.” You admitted. But that didn’t mean the chance was going to come again anytime soon. “And semantics? Really? After trying to remember the difference between epitaph and epiphany?”

“Hey! I shine every now and then. It’s not always a swing and a miss.” He gave a pretend pouting look. “Fancy private schooler picking on a poor high school dropout, come on.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll have much reason to study anytime soon.” You admitted. “This was a really dramatic way to get out of my organic chemistry final.”

And he really did look pleased at that. “So you’ll have plenty of time to hang out with the bad influence that is Pietro once I get this cast off. You said that place had a pool right? Sounds like a party.”

——��——————

Traffic hadn’t been too terrible the rest of the way. And you’d only gotten turned around a couple times, despite his self proclaimed excellent sense of direction.

Even though you knew it’d been hours, it didn’t feel that way at all. You both mostly just talking about whatever, or even when it was quiet, just listening to the music he chose.

It wasn’t all even rock music to your surprise. He seemed to like just about everything. But when you recognized a song as a favorite of your own, you did notice how his excitement grew a little. You wondered how often if at all he’d really gotten to share that love of music with anyone else.

By the time you’d gotten off the interstate again and the roads started to get smaller and smaller, you knew you must be getting close even before you started to see houses here and there.

“Hey, woah up for a second,” He said raising his hand abruptly.

You did so, but only gently pulling to a stop on the side of the street to not block any other traffic as you looked over at him.

Not that there were any other cars. You thought maybe you saw someone walking their dogs in the distance.

But he didn’t say anything for a moment, just taking his sunglasses off again as he turned his head to meet your gaze.

“What?” You asked as another song started on the radio. It was slow, but you thought you’d heard it somewhere before.

“It’s just around the corner.” He looked almost sad for a moment though, before suddenly smiling again. “My house I mean. You’re going to come inside, right?”

“Well...yeah, as long as that’s okay with your Mom anyway.” But even as you answered, a new bit of nervousness found you. What if she blamed you when she saw he’d been hurt though? Would she think you or your friends were dangerous? You’d never thought of that until this moment actually.

You blinked when you felt his hand touch your face, drawn back out of your thoughts as that song continued on in the background.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked then.

But you just tilted your head slightly in question. It’s not like he’d ever truly asked before. Though you could never really tease someone for wanting continued permission.

And was he nervous too? Knowing he was about to be home again and that this would be over, at least for the time being?

You unbuckled your seatbelt easily enough, leaning across the center console as he did the same.

The kiss was soft though as you closed your eyes. His hand moved gently behind your neck as he held you in close. It felt just as good as the times before.

But you knew there wasn’t much more either of you could do now. You both had to go home.

He was the one that finally pulled back, just looking at you contentedly for a moment before he shifted fully back into his seat.

“You know, my Mom’s going to think I’m full of shit if I say I made any friends...and more than a friend too.”

“You can call me whatever you want, whatever you’re comfortable with,” you said honestly. It’d just be easier, because you didn’t know what was right or wrong either.

Whatever happened, you were just grateful for what you’d already had. How could you not be?

—————————

The black mailbox with Maximoff lettered on the side came up soon enough as you pulled carefully into the driveway, before throwing the transmission into park and killing the ignition.

It was a neat little house, with hedges on the side of the property line and some white patio furniture you could just see up a small incline with decorative stones leading up to it.

The house was also directly across from a public green space with jogging or walking paths weaving between several trees it looked like. Which was a little amusing as you wondered if Peter ever used them.

After you’d gotten out, you rounded around the back of the car, pulling Peter’s crutches from the backseat. He’d already opened the passenger door and stood up as well, before you realized the front door of the house was also opening.

“Peter!” You heard a woman call, and you looked up to see a little bit older woman with dark blond hair now rushing down the steps.

Her arms flung around him as soon as she got close enough, holding him like that for only a moment before she pulled back away. “They wouldn’t tell me anything! Those assholes in the suits, whoever they were! They wouldn’t even tell me where you were-” She looked down, “God, your leg, are you hurt anywhere else?” But then just as quickly her eyes were on his face again, critically, “He did it, didn’t he? I told you! I told you he would hurt you and you don’t listen, this whole time I haven’t slept, do you know that!?”

“Mom!” Peter finally exclaimed, trying to get a word in, as he grabbed her shoulders. “They were CIA, I just told them to tell you I was okay. It hasn’t exactly been a breeze getting back home, this was the best I could do. And it wasn’t Dad, he didn’t-”

“Like hell! Did you see San Francisco? Did you see New York City!? Buildings ripped apart, Peter! Who else could do that!? It’s all the news can talk about, he-”

“It wasn’t just him! Would you just listen for-”

“You could have been killed!” She yelled, her voice almost echoing now off the side of the house as you just stood there still holding his crutches.

You felt entirely invisible to be honest as the two of them just continued, only focused on one another in their arguing.

It was so loud actually that you didn’t even hear someone else then walking up behind you from the park across the street. You didn’t know they were there at all before their voice was almost right beside you.

“Who are you?”

You startled at the question, turning your head to see a young woman now standing there. Her eyes were dark and guarded, the very first thing you noticed honestly as you reflexively took a step back closer to the car.

“Wanda! You’re here!” You heard Peter’s voice rise again though. “A little help here please!”

But Peter’s mother only kept on. “You leave your sister out of this! She’s not the one that ran off after a sociopath and disappeared for days!”

“He’s our father!” He yelled back.

Yet the girl with the long auburn hair kept her attention on you for another moment. “Well whoever you are, you’re probably going to regret coming here.”

You could only remain silent though after that as she just walked on to her mother and brother.

She hugged Peter abruptly, working her way between the two even in their fighting. “I knew you were alright. I could still feel you, even though Mom didn’t believe me. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t an idiot.”

Peter seemed to calm some at Wanda’s touch though, just responding. “You have no idea. I punched a god in the face. It’s a long story.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here.)

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 13 (Final)

~ Previous Part ~

Gavin couldn’t stop himself from turning over his shoulder to look at Rael, who apparently had information about his theft from the alteon diplomat. Immediately, Gavin was suspicious. What information could Rael possibly have about something he hadn’t witnessed? Anything he knew that the Emperor wouldn’t already, would have to have come from Gavin himself… “Oh shit, he’s not really talking about that is he?”

What did Rael hope to gain in telling the Emperor that Gavin had been commissioned to steal from the diplomat? Was he just doing his duty as a soldier by divulging everything he knew? Or was there something more to it? When Gavin had first told Rael that he had been hired to steal the ring, he’d seemed surprised, but hadn’t expressed any desire to confess the truth. Then again, Gavin had already proven unable to read Rael.

“Very well, go ahead,” the Emperor prompted, hands folded on the table as he looked at Rael with interest.

Gavin stared back at his former captor, unable to take his eyes off the giant man. “While Gavin Stone chose not to disclose this to the public, in our time together he did reveal to me that he was in fact hired by a third party to burgle Lady Elyth,” Rael explained smoothly. “So while Gavin Stone did perform the actual deed, the idea was not his own.” His voice had the same formal, all business tone it’d had when Gavin first met him, and yet this time there was a vague hint of...was it desperation? No, it couldn’t be. Gavin had to be just imagining things at this point.

The Emperor gave an interested hum. “Intriguing,” he remarked before turning to look at Gavin. “Is this true?” he inquired.

While Gavin hadn’t been planning on explaining the full circumstances of the robbery to the Emperor, he wasn’t about to deny it now that Rael had done so. Lying at this point would only make him look more suspicious than he already did. “Yes, sir,” Gavin replied, hoping the honorific wasn’t an improper term to use with the Emperor.

The giant sovereign gave a nod of understanding. He took a long, thoughtful pause as he considered the new information before focusing back on Gavin. “Is there a reason you didn’t report this?” he asked, a serious look in those yellow eyes of his.

God, it was intimidating enough being stared at by a giant, but being stared at by a giant who ruled over an entire dimension of giants was just something else entirely. And Gavin had thought meeting Orlando Bloom at a music festival when he was seventeen had been daunting. Gavin swallowed. “Keep it together,” he ordered himself. If he wanted the Emperor to treat him like a person, it was possible he would need to earn his respect first.

“Sir, whether I was hired or not doesn’t change the fact that I committed the crime,” Gavin started. “And since I don’t know the real name of the man who hired me, I didn’t see a point in reporting it to authorities.” There was also the fact that Gavin had never really been one to snitch, especially on his fellow criminals, but he wasn’t about to say that part in a room with a soldier and a political leader.

“I see,” the Emperor responded pensively. “Well, I consider taking responsibility for your own actions to be quite noble,” he told Gavin with complete sincerity in his voice. “Truthfully, I never took Ashryn’s suggestion very seriously,” he admitted. “I’ve worked quite hard to develop a peaceful and friendly relationship with humankind, and I am not about to undo that by mistreating my first human convict.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. Did he hear that right? Did the Emperor really just, one after the other, call him noble and say that he wouldn’t lock him up in a display cage? It was hard for Gavin not to let a wave of relief crash over him. The news was great, but he still didn’t know what fate did await him. Not being treated like an animal really was the bare minimum after all.

“Um...so what are you planning to do with me?” Gavin found himself asking. He was sick and tired of the uncertainty, of not knowing what was in store for him. Whatever his sentence might be, he just wanted to know what it was already so he could start figuring out how to cope with it.

The Emperor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He seemed somewhat taken aback by Gavin’s abrupt question. It was possible the man wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to that way. Gavin hoped he hadn’t done something taboo. He wasn’t intending to be disrespectful, he just really didn’t know how to interact with literal royalty.

Apparently, the Emperor wasn’t too upset, because a small smile had taken form on his face. “Well,” he began, glancing back at Rael. “I find myself quite fascinated by your willingness to speak up in front of me in order to defend this human.”

“Is that what he did?” Gavin asked himself. Had Rael really been standing up for him? Was it really more than him just doing his job?

“You were aware that many important figures have negative opinions of Gavin Stone, and yet you risked your reputation by speaking up for him,” the Emperor went on.

Suddenly everything was beginning to make a lot more sense. The whole scene out in the hallway...it had been all about Rael protecting his reputation. He couldn’t choose a human over an alteon, lest he risk being looked down upon by his peers. Of course, none of that made what he’d done okay, but at least Gavin understood why now. “Does this mean he had some kind of change of heart...is that why he told the Emperor about me being hired…?” he pondered to himself.

The Emperor’s gaze suddenly returned to Gavin. “I believe I have decided what your sentence will be,” he announced firmly, a satisfied smile on his face that Gavin wasn’t sure how to take. “Since the two of you have clearly established the foundations of a relationship, I have decided that, in order to atone for your crime, you will serve under Rael as an assistant for a minimum of one year.”

Gavin’s mouth fell open, but before he could even form a coherent thought, he heard Rael’s stunned voice exclaim from behind him, “What?!”

-

The word had slipped from Rael’s mouth before he could stop it. He had just been so shocked by the Emperor’s announcement that all thoughts of propriety and manners suddenly flew out the window. “Sorry, your majesty,” he quickly recovered. “I just--I wasn’t expecting that.”

Take a human on as an assistant?! It was completely unheard of--of course it was unheard of, humans were tiny people who lived in another realm, why would one ever serve as an assistant to a common alteon soldier? Rael didn’t even know what to think. The Emperor clearly trusted him enough to put Gavin in his ward, but what the hell was Rael supposed to do with a diminutive person tagging along with him while he worked? Plus there was the matter of he and Gavin’s last encounter. Something told Rael the human didn’t much want to hang around with the person who had threatened him not once, but twice within a few hours.

“I’m aware that it’s unorthodox, but to be frank, this entire situation is unorthodox,” the Emperor stated. “This way, Gavin Stone will be able to serve his punishment while learning about and experiencing our realm.” It seemed the relationship between alteons and humans was even more important to the Emperor than Rael had realized--he was completely breaking away from the norm for the sake of diplomacy.

“Are you sure it won’t be too dangerous?” Rael had to ask. On a regular basis, his job wasn’t typically overly treacherous, but even the mildest thing to him could be potentially life threatening to someone as small as Gavin.

The Emperor offered a gentle smile. “I’m certain Gavin Stone will be quite safe in your hands, Rael.” It was easy for him to say that, he didn’t know what Rael had done just ten minutes prior--if he did, he would probably never let Gavin within a hundred feet of the temper-prone excuse for an Imperial Guard soldier.

“Uh--excuse me, sir,” Gavin piped up nervously. He was facing towards the Emperor, so Rael couldn’t see his facial expression. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it. “What exactly can someone like me do as an assistant?” the human inquired, voicing the question that Rael had been pondering.

“You will do whatever Rael requests of you,” the Emperor told him simply, then turning to Rael said, “You may utilize him as your assistant how you see fit, so long as he isn’t put in significant danger of course.” Rael couldn’t believe how much faith the Emperor seemingly had in him. Where did it come from? This was by far the longest interaction he’d ever had with the ruler of Iaela, so why did he seem to trust a random soldier so much? “I’ll have some furniture and attire made up to suit a human. You are also free to request any accommodations you think you may need,” the Emperor added, already scrawling down notes on a sheet of parchment.

Rael opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say. He just couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He’d gone from disliking humans to being made the guardian of one in a matter of hours. He still wasn’t sure about his opinion on humanity as a whole, but he couldn’t deny the fact that one particular human had penetrated the tough exterior he had built around himself.

Like it or not, Rael cared about Gavin. He never would have spoken up to the Emperor if he hadn’t. As strange and inexplicable as it may be, he needed to accept the reality of the situation. Gavin would be his ward for at least a year. They would be spending a lot of time with each other. Rael couldn’t keep pretending to be indifferent to the tiny man.

~

After being dismissed from the meeting with the Emperor, Gavin had been carried off by Rael, taken to what he could only assume was Rael’s quarters. The entire trip there had been silent, because what the hell was Gavin supposed to say? He was so mentally and emotionally confused at this point that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of anything.

Rael’s room was small and simple; it contained only a bed, side table, and little chest of drawers. On the way in, Gavin had noticed the hallway had been filled with doors, which led him to believe this area was entirely made up of the rooms of soldiers. At least Rael had his own space, the last thing Gavin needed at the moment was to be faced with more alteons.

“Gavin,” Rael spoke up, finally breaking the silence that had stretched out between the two of them. “I know you’re probably not pleased with this arrangement.” Gavin stared up at Rael from where he stood on the bedside table. The giant was sitting on his bed, but of course, he was still looming high over the human. “I...I understand why you would feel that way,” Rael’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, Gavin could hardly believe this was the same person who had yelled at him earlier.

A long sigh blew out from between Gavin’s lips. “I sure hope you’re leading up to an apology here,” he snipped, folding his arms firmly over his chest. He wasn’t going to put up with some indirect expression of regret, nah--that wasn’t going to fly. If Rael wanted his forgiveness, he would have to make an apology as clear and plain as day.

There was no derision or amusement on Rael’s face, just a solemn frown. “Ashryn wanted me to prove myself by...reigning you in,” the alteon explained in a stormy tone. “I was too afraid of harming my reputation to not take the bait.” Clearly Gavin’s assumptions had been right. “But I was wrong...and weak for not standing up to Ashryn. For that, I am sorry.” It was hard to believe Gavin was hearing those words being directed at him from Rael. A few hours ago it would have seemed impossible.

As good as it was to hear the apology, Gavin still felt like there was something Rael wasn’t entirely grasping. “Listen, I know I look pretty tough, but you’ve gotta realize how--how freaky it is when you use your size against me.” Admitting he was afraid wasn’t really something Gavin loved to do, especially considering he was trying to convince alteons that humans weren’t weak little babies, but Rael needed to know the effect his actions had.

The size disparity between the room’s occupants suddenly became even more strikingly apparent. Gavin was standing and Rael was sitting, and yet Rael still absolutely towered over the human. No matter how equal the two may be intellectually, Rael would always have a huge automatic advantage over Gavin--and that was something they would both have to come to adapt to if they were going to be living and working with each other for the foreseeable future.

“Are you afraid of me?” The sudden question stunned Gavin. He wasn’t sure why, because it had always been something in the back of his mind. Maybe it was just shocking hearing Rael ask it so bluntly.

Gavin paused. How was he supposed to answer this? He had definitely had fear inflicted on him by Rael on multiple occasions, but was he really and truly afraid of the guy? Gavin gave a weak shrug. “I don’t really know...I guess sometimes…” Rael gave a tight nod, as if he had been expecting that response. “But other times you’re just a big, awkward dork,” Gavin quickly added.

A very slight smile pulled at the corner of Rael’s lips. “Alright, I’ll promise not to use my size against you anymore, if you can promise not to call me a ‘dork’ again,” he said the words so seriously, and yet the growing grin on the alteon’s face gave him away.

Gavin chuckled. “Fine, but you gotta promise not to give me any weird assistant jobs, like polishing your scabbard or some shit.” He really didn’t know how much someone of his size could really be of use to a giant, but he supposed this arrangement was better than being thrown into a cage.

Rael raised a single dark eyebrow. “Oh, but you’re probably the only one that could actually reach the inside.”

A grumpy frown took shape on Gavin’s face. “Okay, next rule: no size jokes at my expense!”

A warm, genuine laugh escaped from Rael. In a flash the giant man was reaching forward, and before Gavin could dodge backwards, a massive index finger was ruffling his hair, making the already messy locks even more of a disaster. “No promises.”

Gavin let out a long sigh. Somehow he had gone from being a professional thief to the assistant to a gigantic, elf-eared man from another dimension. “At least it’s more exciting than being a damn doctor.”

I was originally gonna make this two parts but I decided to just make it one big chunky final chapter! This story was kind of like the introductory prologue to Gavin and Rael so there's definitely room for more about them in the future if people are interested. I had a ton of fun writing this and totally appreciate all the nice comments and such that I got!

I've got a busy few weeks ahead of me but feel free to send in prompts/commissions for my ocs. I just may take a little while to actually get to them.

[miss-choco-chips]

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-