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

[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.

[mapleshmaple]

,

[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.

[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?”

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

[spade-riddles]

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes. 

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.  

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming. 

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable. 

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships. 

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night. 

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet. 

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case. 

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch. 

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first. 

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it. 

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised. 

Just my two cents. 

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

[writefightandflightclub]

Horny Misanthrope (Nathan Bateman x fem!reader)

Summary: Nathan isn’t the ideal wedding “plus one”. Somehow though, all of that doesn’t matter, when he’s the perfect “plus one” to you. (Angst / argument which becomes fluff/soft Nathan.)

Author’s note: another one that has been sat 90% done in my drafts for an age as I wasn’t sure about it. Could do with a bit more development on it before posting, but, here it is anyway! I thought Nathan deserved to get out of the house for once, and why keep him cooped up any longer :P 

Warnings: 18+ for sexual themes. mentions of fingering; arguing; Nathan being insensitive / an ass (his usual self). Language. Alcohol mentions. Family drama. DEFINITE TYPOS. 

GIF: @twillight​

The only person Nathan Bateman plays well with is himself. Okay - and lately, you. But Nathan Bateman is not the kind of guy you bring to meet your parents, turns out.

Of course he isn’t. What had you even been thinking?!

He looked every bit the ideal wedding date. He looked dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looked adoringly at you. At least, people might interpret his intense, sexual hunger for you as adoration, if they weren’t looking too hard at the way his eyes followed you, or the fact they followed your ass everywhere it went in that dress.

Nathan, however, had spent the whole ceremony - the nuptials of a close family friend- whispering in your ear and jeering at the “embarrassing” sentimentality of it all. He had spent the duration of the speeches trying to discreetly (and then much less discreetly) slip his (deliciously girthy, by the way) fingers in-between your legs, and he had spent the majority of the three-course dinner sitting insulting every single person on your table in one way or another. Including your parents. (Read; especially your parents.)

The worst part, is that he has spent the whole day completely oblivious to your frustrations. You know how he is, of course. He’s... different. He doesn’t see the world like everyone else does. That’s one of the things you love about him, and it’s not as if you expect him to change. It’s just... you thought he might at least make an effort. You thought he might avoid making your auntie burst into tears over her pudding, at a bare minimum.

Were you wishing for the impossible in asking Nathan to behave? Were you being cruel and expecting him to be something he’s not? He simply doesn’t play well with others. Except for when he plays with you... Usually.

Safe to say, it wasn’t going well. The last straw came, however, when the tables were finally pushed back for dancing. Your father had just pulled you aside to ask you what in the hell you saw in him, and then had proceeded to come at you with: don’t you want to find “a nice, stable man” to settle down with instead of - and you quote- “an arrogant, robot-fucking troglodyte? Don’t you think you can do better than a horny misanthrope, sweetpea”? And then, you had pulled Nathan aside, tears of frustration spilling down your face.

You were tired. Tired from having to justify your love for Nathan when all the good things about him were less visible from first impressions, and when he didn’t exactly make a good case on his own behalf.

And then, you were more than tired. You were exhausted. Exhausted because, after defending him to your parents and your family friends, he really had the cheek to come out with: “Are you going to ruin the day by crying right now, honey?”

And, oh boy, that -and the coldness in his tone when he said it- had further tears spilling down your face.

“I can’t help you if you’re going to be emotional about this,” Nathan sighs, trying to gently jostle you towards the restroom by the elbow. “My share prices will plummet if you’re papped crying like this, baby. Why don’t you go get cleaned-up?” You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time, and assume that was a vain attempt at humour, because, my goodness, if it wasn’t, then hell... part of you is sure you would tank Blue Book on purpose.

“Well how can I talk to you if you’re going to be a fucking robot?” you bite back. “If you’re not even going to try to understand?”

“Okay, so it’s not going well then,” he says, oblivious. “Did your dad like me, at least?”

“That’s a hard no,” you exclaim in disbelief, and all Nathan does is shrug and smile, exhaling an indignant breath. It’s not that he’s unlikable, per se. The problem is, he doesn’t care -doesn’t give a fuck- if he’s liked or not. Yes, he has a huge ego, but at the same time, he’s the furthest thing from a people-pleaser. It barely occurs to him to make an effort with people - anyone beyond you. But you do care if he’s liked. These particular people matter to you.

All you wanted from today was for your family to see how happy he makes you -weird as that fact is- and for them to start to believe that you really could have a future with him. From the start, they’d insisted that you’d never be anything more to him than a fling, and now... Well, now the whole thing is a mess. It makes it worse that maybe they are right. Maybe you don’t have a future with him, after all.

Nathan opens his mouth to speak but by this point in the day, you don’t want to hear it. You raise a palm silently as tears pool into the corner of your eyes all over again.

“No! Don’t say anything,” you say defeatedly. “You’ll just weevil your way into my head and turn everything around.”

He clamps his mouth shut, and instead he reaches his hand out towards your arm.

“Don’t touch me either. You can’t fix everything with that tongue and those fingers of yours.”

“You could let me try though?” he flirts despite how misplaced it is, ticking up his eyebrow suggestively.

You fold your arms and stamp your foot on the floor in frustration. Is he even listening to you? “Nathan!” you plead, begging him to acknowledge you.

“Okay. Okay,” he surrenders, reluctantly. “Help me out here. What did I even do wrong?”

“Everything,” you sigh, tired that he just can’t (or won’t) see it. 

He bristles at that, and lifts his glasses to massage his eyes and brow in frustration with the pads of his fingers. He lets out a hearty sigh, as though he’s tired too. As though you’re not even worth this hassle.

“If this is about your aunt, it’s not exactly my fault she’s such a passionate fan of Donny fucking Osmond. Don’t you think she might be a little overinvested, huh?! Maybe that’s why she cried into her fucking ice cream?”

Overinvested? That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s relentlessly obsessive.

“It’s not the Donny fucking Osmond comment,” you bite through your teeth. “It’s the way you spoke to her. You just...” you wave your arms around in the air, gesticulating angrily. “You’re rude to people. Dismissive. You mocked the whole ceremony, you kept trying to feel me up the whole time, you insulted my entire family. And my dad, Nathan. You made my dad hate you so much that he called you an arrogant, robot-fucking, troglodyte and a horny misanthrope.”

You growl as Nathan’s mouth tips into a lopsided smile.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! It’s not a fucking compliment!” you huff, raising your arms into the air and slapping them back down again, defeated, before bringing up a single finger to wag in his direction, spitting your words out now. “And don’t you dare say anything about him being upset that I call you Daddy, because I will fucking end you.”

Nathan supresses a full-blown smile- at least, he tries, he really does.

“Honey?” he says more softly, at least avoiding riling you any further. “You know all this about me. I’m not sentimental. I say what I think. I’m... essentially a horny misanthrope.” Oh, fuck, he’s adopting that, isn’t he? He fucking would. He says it with pride already. “But... is that so bad? Didn’t we kinda bond over our enjoyment of fucking each other and avoiding everyone else?”

Your anger dissolves into tears which brim in your eyes.

“Yes,” you admit, burying your face in your hands.

“Then what is it I’m missing?” he says, sounding as exasperated as you feel.

“I thought you wanted to be part of my life, Nathan. That’s what you said. But... if you don’t want... this? Then what are we even doing? I make an effort for you at all those shitty business galas, you know. And believe me I don’t like the sexist dudebro CEOs I have to rub shoulders with... but I make an effort because it’s important to you, and you’re important to me. I just wanted the same from you.”

“I thought you liked those galas,” he frowns, missing the point all over again. Why are you even surprised anymore, honestly?

You raise your hands in the air in frustration and pace away from him, further out of the view and earshot of the other guests. He follows. By this point you aren’t even sure if you want him to follow.

“Yeah, of course you think so. Because you’re too busy having your ego massaged and winning awards to notice. And because I make an effort. I don’t even make your rivals cry into their pudding.”

Though you admit, even as you say it, that can’t imagine Musk weeping into his dessert because of you, even if you tried. Maybe your auntie is a little overinvested.

“The fucking aunt thing again? For real? Fuck’s sake,” Nathan says, gritting his teeth. “Fine, don’t come to the galas again. Settled.”

“Fuck, Nathan? It’s not about the fucking galas! Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

“No,” he growls, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Makes a fucking change,” you say.

“I wanted to be here,” he says adamantly. “I just wanted to be with you. All this other shit doesn’t fucking matter to me,” he states, sweeping his hand through the air, gesturing around him.

“That’s exactly my point! I’m not asking you to gush over the fucking floral arrangements. We can head back to the suite later and you can bitch all you like about how schmaltzy this whole fuckin’ thing is. But the problem is, I know you can be charming when it’s something that matters to you, Nathan. I’ve seen you schmooze investors, and partners. And this matters to me,” you say, stabbing your finger against your own chest, and then releasing a pent up breath. “It matters to me. That’s all I’m trying to tell you. I guess you just have to decide if I matter enough to you, or not.”

You are greeted by silence as he sets his jaw again, tendons slipping over bone, his gaze stern and impenetrable.

Fucking great. Just about sums it up.

You simply exhale an indignant breath.

You are tired.

Tired of this.

Your body sags. All of the fire saps from your voice, and you reach into your purse, your tone muted and dull. Unfeeling. Like him. Like one of his machines. 

“Look, Nathan, if you don’t want to be here, here’s the hotel key,” you say, slipping the fob into his palm. “Go away if you like. If you don’t want me, and all my human baggage, feel free to build yourself another fucking robot.”

You throw him a cold glance and you sweep away into the bathroom to wipe your tears away, and then to repeat the cycle by crying a few more.

By the time you surface again, Nathan is gone.

Despite how much it hurts you, you smooth your features and venture back into the throng, trying your best to put a brave face on it, for the happy couple’s sake. Nathan’s an obvious miss, to all of the guests in there who wonder why you are suddenly without your eccentric, billionaire boyfriend. But, most of all, he’s an obvious miss to you. To you, he’s simply your boyfriend, and you would have liked him by your side today. Today and all the days following, if you’re honest with yourself.

Still, perhaps he did play best alone. Perhaps Nathan just wasn’t suited to being anyone’s plus one; for weddings or for life.

You plaster a smile on your face as you link back up with an old childhood friend of yours, and leave your personal dramas to one side to concentrate on the day at hand... and, you have to admit, it does go a little more smoothly without him.

***

It is an hour or so later when you catch a glimpse of Nathan re-entering the room, out of the corner of your eye. You are shocked to see him again. You had expected him to retire back to the suite for the rest of the night, and to take the edge off his sorrows with the (entire) contents of the hotel mini bar.

Your stomach clenches, and you hope desperately that he hasn’t, in fact, done exactly that; raided the hotel mini bar and subsequently come back, determined to raise a scene.

You tense-up as you watch him beeline determinedly toward your father -the last thing you needed was for your dad to add “drunk” to his list of unkind descriptors of your man- and you watch the initial scene unfold from behind your fingers; however, you’re shocked when Nathan seems to politely approach the older man, locking eyes with a wide, charming smile. He almost looks... deferential? Apologetic? Not words you’d ever think to associate with Nathan Bateman.

From what you can observe, your father looks sceptical, and appears to respond brusquely at first; but you are shocked when Nathan extends a hand towards him and they shake firmly, as if reconciling. You watch slack-jawed as Nathan whisks your father to the bar to buy him a drink -declining one of his own- and you are especially surprised when you see the two of them engaged in what looks - from a distance, at least- a lot like a pleasant conversation.

You then watch, still slack-jawed, and feigning interest in your own company’s talking points and pleasantries, as Nathan circulates around the room, appearing to gradually make peace with everyone he upset earlier. Even reaching out to others he didn’t speak with before. Chatting happily to the bride and groom.

Has he made a robot version of himself? (If so, can you keep it?)

After a while, he finally meets your eyes from across the room, and he holds the connection for a moment, his gaze travelling over you from head to toe -but not hungrily, like usual; softly somehow, in a way which makes you feel revered and almost like you are floating. Like you are the only thing he can see in the room. The way he’s looking at you practically steals the air from your lungs, and then, as quickly as it came, he unceremoniously dips away again, to continue determindely on with his act of penitence.

Suddenly you feel the loss of him all over again.

He circulates around so many people in the room, until finally he comes to you, with a warm, broad hand resting on the middle of your back. Back to your side. The one person he has yet to make peace with, and the most important.

He comes over to you, looking every bit the ideal wedding date.  He looks dapper, suave, and impossibly handsome. He looks adoringly at you. 

“Can I borrow you, for this dance?” he asks, his usually calculating, inpenetrable eyes somehow softer and deeper.

The look he’s giving you almost makes you feel as though you are meeting him for the first time and being swept off your feet all over again... which, now that you think about it, never actually happened the first time... unless a hot, urgent fuck with your face being rammed into his keyboard counted as romance? To be fair, maybe it did, in Nathan Bateman Land.

“You sure, Bateman? It’s not disco,” you say, your lips curling up into a gently teasing smile as you draw attention to the cheesy power ballad being played. “Sure you’ve got the moves?” 

He simply nods at you, and extends his hand to you, and you let him lead you away into the floor of gently swaying couples, bathed in the fragmented light of a glitterball.

He wraps an arm firmly around you and tugs you close to him, and his other hand clasps yours gently in his as he rocks you, in time to the music. It is so unlike him that you open your mouth in disbelief to question it, and yet, Nathan is the one to speak first, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if his coming words are an effort.

“I’m... sorry,” he says, and although it seems to have pained him, his apology sounds genuine.

“Why, what did you say to my dad this time?” you idly tease, even as you genuinely wonder what he has been up to.

“Hi. I’m a little weird and intense,” he relays. “I’ve lived in a concrete house underground for a couple of years. We got off on the wrong foot, buddy. Let me get you a beer. Tell me more about your daughter. Did you know how fucking much I love her?”

You feel a surge of emotion when his voice cracks during his final sentence, tears gently swelling in your eyes. Sometimes, you just don’t know if Nathan feels things... aside from in the crotch area - it’s pretty clear he feels things for you there. With his emotions, he’s generally bottled-up and withholding, and it feels really good to hear it out said loud like that.

He loves you.

“Were those your exact words?” 

His mouth quirks up and he bites down playfully on his lower lip. “I’m paraphrasing, honey.”

You nod gently in understanding. “Okay. Well, why the change of heart?” you ask him, as he circles you majestically over the floor.

His brow furrows again, and he runs the pad of his thumb delicately along your jawline. “No change. Just realised. I can replace most of the people in my life with robots. But I can’t replace you.” He thinks for a moment. “I need you to know you’re important to me. That I want this. Days like this with you.”

The intensity of him destabilises you, and so you reach for humour as a defence. You throw your eyes around the room at the flowers and the decorations and the whole cheesy spectacle. “You want all of this? I’ll remember to play you some Celine Dion when we get home then.” Your tone is obviously teasing, and you expect him to balk at the notion of any of this. Including, and especially, the notion of marriage.

But, if there’s anything Nathan can be described as -your dad’s unkind descriptors aside- it’s unpredictable. Surprising.

“Honey, we won’t get married like this, give me a fuckin’ break.”

Your heart is beating pretty fast all of a sudden. A tentative happiness is blooming within your chest. Did he just hint at what you think he did?

“How would we do it?” you venture, biting down on your lip to supress the widest smile of your life. “Robot officials?”

“Up on the glacier, maybe. The fucking... bare minimum by the way of guests -if you’re insisting on anyone at all beyond the robot officials, that is. I’ll allow 3 people tops.”

You draw a lopsided flash of teeth from him as you laugh warmly.

“Generous of you,” you say, still smiling, looping your arms around his neck, and playing fondly with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

“You could wear snow boots,” he continues, “and then I could do you up against a tree.” He thinks a moment more. “Would be romantic. In the moonlight, maybe.”

You really can’t help but smile now. Nathan always is a little bit contrary. A little bit different. And he may not be the ideal wedding guest, but he’s your ideal plus one.

“Nathan Bateman,” you say in disbelief, as he dips his lips closer towards yours. “You do have emotions, after all.”

Tears fill your eyes again like jewels- happy tears this time though.

“Careful, honey. I’ve told you- if you get papped crying, BlueBook tanks. Then there’ll be nothing left for you by the time of the divorce.”

You throw him a gentle faux scowl, dismissing his comment.

Happily, you let your scowl fade into a soft, cautious smile. “Nathan. You want this? Really? Us, I mean?” 

“Like I said,” he admits softly. “Can’t replace everyone with robots. Definitely can’t replace you. So, if I have to talk to a bunch of losers every now and again for you...” he nods with conviction. “I’m in.” 

You bat his chest with your palm.

“Nathan!” you scold, earning another lopsided flash of teeth from him, but there’s no true malice behind it. Unless...

Unless you can think of a way you’d like him to make it up to you.

“Ah, shit. Ok, I messed up again,” he confesses, sucking air between his teeth. “Probably shouldn’t have called your family losers. But, honey,” he purrs, and you know that familiar lust-infused tone all too well. You note that his hands have gradually been wandering further and further down your back too - holding you more tightly. “Did I fix it enough for you to let me fix the rest with my lips?”

“Yes,” you nod, your voice suddenly breathy. 

He dips his lips towards yours, tasting you as if he can’t resist you. Kissing you as if no-one is watching. But it’s not hungry, like usual. It’s not overty sexual. It’s adoring. He kisses you and you feel revered. He kisses you in a way that would make anyone looking think the two of you belong together. That each of you is the perfect plus one to the other.

You melt into his kiss, and when you pull away there is a gentle sparkle in his eyes too. Not like starlight; no. His emotions are hidden further in the depths of him. More subtle. More subdued. But still equally dazzling. Something like the wash of moonlight upon deep waters.

When you look at him, hungry, he cocks a single eyebrow at you.

There’s the Nathan you know and love. There’s that wicked glint in his eyes, returning yours.

“Holy shit. Did I fix it enough for you to let me take you outside and finger you in the orchard?” he asks, voice deep and wonderfully dirty.

“We’ll see,” you say, ticking-up an eyebrow in turn, and you’re surprised when his expression grows serious again, momentarily.

“Just so you know. It’s the flowers and the frills and the fucking pretentious shmaltz I don’t like. But, if you wanted it, I’d do it for you.”

“Really?” you say, eyes somehow still shining.

“If it’s really that fucking important to you, then yeah.” He takes a deep breath, as if his next words will take effort. “The idea of being with you forever is... terrifyingly okay, actually,” he says, and although the words were hard to say, Nathan only ever says what he’s thinking. That’s one of the things you love about him.

You love him as he is, and you wouldn’t want him to be someone he’s not.

You scrunch your nose up in dismissal, suddenly knowing exactly what you want. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Your way sounds perfect for me, Bateman. Mountain wedding and a bang against a tree?” you smile. “Don’t you know I’m just a horny misanthrope too?

He smiles right back at you, and it’s loving as much as it is devilish. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other, I guess.”

“Now, come on,” you giggle deviously, darkly, leading him by the hand. “Let’s ditch these losers and you can fingerbang me in the orchard” 

Nathan follows you gladly, and his eyes definitely follow your ass in that dress.

He might not be everyone’s favourite wedding guest, but right now, you could care less. He is your favourite, and that’s all that matters.

What’s more, the idea of being with him forever? With Nathan Bateman? Well, it is... terrifyingly okay, actually.

[moonlightdreamzz]

empathetic — woozi

all you want, is for jihoon to care.

you always knew your boyfriend was more of an onion, and not a sunflower. what you mean by that, is that he had many layers to him, and he could not be pulled easily. if you wanted to peel the different pieces off of him, you had to work for it, but quite frankly you think you deserved a lot more than he had given you in the past couple of days.

you considered your body to be strong, but weak at the same time. you caught disease quite quickly such as colds, flu’s, and infections, but you also whooped its ass everytime. oddly enough, one of the things you looked forward to when you finally met your match was having someone to coo over your warm temperatures. a man who would surprise you with warm soups and extra blankets, who would also lay in bed with you no matter what was going on and give you kisses.

lee jihoon was not that man, which you knew, but you had no idea it would be this bad.

you were a mess - definitely not the prettiest sight you could conjure of yourself. you don’t remember the last time you saw your thick hair, which was never tamable on a good day, but especially for this past week had you just not been feeling any of your usual trials and tribulations of trying to figure out what to do with yourself. your bonnet had found itself halfway off your head from your tossing and turning through the night.

if you had the energy, you would crochet your hair. quick and easy timing, but also a cute look. jihoon also appreciated it on you, and you unfortunately lived to please him.

you weren’t dying at the moment, but you did have some concerning symptoms - a cough. so, symptom. of course your boyfriend did not bat an eye whatsoever for the past week as he scrambled through your home silently like the cute little mouse he was.

today is no different, but still your patience has completely ran thin. the penthouse you two shared was large enough so that whenever he wanted to hide from you, he could, and you knew that’s exactly what he was doing at this current moment.

when he finally walks into your shared bedroom ever so quietly, you can tell he was praying you were asleep.

“why are you hiding from me?” you question immediately. you don’t have much on, as you always got hot so easily. no shirt covered your body, just panties, but you and jihoon had been together so long that he was immune to your bare flesh. now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time the two of you made any kind of love. luckily you didn’t need sex all the time in order to be satisfied, but jihoon wasn’t giving you anything at all.

“huh?” he responds quickly - proof you were right. you hated how cute he was, especially when he had what you referred to as his “morning puff”. he always had a chunky, sweet little face, but when he woke up from long nights in the studio, it was extra squishy and normally you would enjoy kissing all over his adorable face, but not today. you were upset.

“have you not heard me coughing for the past week?”

he turns to face you now. you’re sure he had a flashback to the many arguments where you begged him to look at you in your eyes. at least he cared about something you’ve said to him in the past.

“i have.” is all he says. that’s really all he has to say?

“and you haven’t done shit about it?”

“why are you cursing at me?”

“because I’m tired of the non-chalant attitude.”

he sighs out loud. that was his way of telling you he had better things to do. even so, he crawls on top of the bed and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“relax, baby.” he encourages. “what do you want? i’ll order your favorite.”

this is what you referred to as the attempt. a very poor one, but an attempt never the less.

would it be wrong of you to ask for something home made? would that make you selfish? all of the other girlfriends gagged about whenever any minor issues went on with them, how the boys would cater to their every need like they were the queen of the entire world or something. why didn’t jihoon treat you that way? was he too comfortable?

“y/n?” he speaks, knowing you completely ignored his question in exchange for what if’s.

“nevermind.” you mutter, laying back on your California king.

“don’t do that.” he sighs. he’s irritated with you for sure, but what do you care?

“do you even care?” you question. “like seriously?”

“if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be sitting in this house with you. and I just told you I would buy you whatever you want. i don’t know what more you want me to do.”

“i want you to act like my boyfriend of a million years. i want you to coddle me and give me kisses and offer to wash my hair.”

“in what world is anybody allowed to touch your hair?” he questions seriously as his eyebrows scrunch together in completely confusion and irritation.

“does it matter if I would say no?”

he chuckles, but not in a way where he thinks you’re cute. you’re only making the situation worse in his eyes. “do you want the food or not?”

“do you remember when we first started dating?” you stand up promptly, your thighs rubbing together as you get closer to him.

“y/n, why do you expect me to be the exact same way I was when I first met you?”

“why do people have this weird belief that once you start dating for a certain amount of years that love has to slow down?”

“so you’re saying I don’t love you?”

“i’m saying i have been clearly sick for the past week and all you’ve been is cooped up in your studio like a damn crack addict. what I’m saying is, we are in a relationship but you don’t even care to ask me am I okay. i’m not dating you to still feel like I’m alone!”

“you do realize the only person who pays bills in this nice little house is me right? how else can I do that if not ‘cooped up in my studio like a crack addict’” he quotes directly from you.

“do you realize that you’re the one who told me I didn’t have to pay a bill in this house?”

“whatever.”

he tries to walk away, but you know it’s only because he hates to argue, especially recently. it was something about it that really pained him.

“baby.” you lower your tone from all the unnecessary yelling. you touch his hand, but he snatches it away so hard that you flinch and fall to the ground. “baby...” you whisper faintly, hoping that he’ll care. for once in a long time will he just care. but he doesn’t. with his pajamas still on does he snatch his keys and walk straight out of your - well, his apartment. he slams the door too.

you honestly couldn’t recall how much time had passed since he departed from your home. usually when the two of you fought, you could easily find ways to distract yourself while also ignoring your mild heartbreak from his actions. but for some reason, this time, you couldn’t stop thinking this may have been the end.

that was usually the case when you felt like someone was falling out of love with you when you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

you tried to listen to music. you tried to cook, but you sucked terribly at cooking Korean food and that’s all you had in your possession. you tried to sleep, but with everything running through your mind, that was impossible. so here you were, stuck with your thoughts.

you also still had the terribly annoying cough.

you didn’t have many friends here. the only people who checked on you were vernon, coups, and mingyu. you were expecting to get a call from one of them any second now.

like clock work, your phone is ringing. quite frankly you weren’t prepared to see Vernon’s name pop up on your phone simply because he was the one who called the least, but you didn’t mind. he always got you turnt whenever you were down, and even when you were fighting with woozi he didn’t suddenly treat you like you didn’t exist. he was always a neutral party.

“hello?” you say softly - your voice hoarse from the constant coughing you were doing.

“hey.” his voice speaks softly, “you alright?”

“yeah I’m fine, just not feeling my best. i have this annoying ass cough and it’s not going away and I’m also alone so, just fine.” you chuckle while burying yourself deeper into the bed if that was even possible.

“damn, you been smoking that good?”

“unlike you, I only smoke on special occasions vernon.”

“yeah whatever. how’s woozi? haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“he’s fine...I think. he’s been trying to hide from me but that’s been the norm lately if I’m being honest.”

“wait, you said you were alone.” vernon remembers, “we’ve been off all week where is your boyfriend?”

“you know...being himself.” you and vernon may have not spoke as much, but when you did talk to him, everything flowed out. every secret. it should be like this with woozi, but. “maybe it’s my fault.” you sigh, scratching your scalp from outside your bonnet, “i kind of...asked for a lot I guess.”

“like?”

“well, I’m not feeling well. i just felt upset because it seemed like he was purposely trying to avoid me so I wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to do anything for me. and the thing is, I wasn’t going to ask for anything but a lousy fucking hug - a cuddle. the bare minimum. i would have even taken a no but to be avoided? it hurt my feelings and we fought and—ugh. he stormed out the house and I have no idea where he is and I want to call him but truthfully what did I do wrong vernon? lately I’ve been feeling like I’m in a relationship with myself and I know we can be better than this. woozi used to be the sweetest little baby. he may have been hard to others, but he opened up for me. i feel shut out.”

you feel so much better getting all of that out, even though you know your boyfriend may have not appreciated the sentiment.

you know vernon listened to every single word and and would come back with some heartfelt advice.

“just give it time y/n. i can’t speak on jihoon like I am him, but if there’s one thing I know? it’s that you are the only person he truly loves that doesn’t share his bloodline. of course he loves us, but you - he opens up to you. he’s allowed you to see him. maybe there’s something going on. or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. just let him come back to you and see what happens.”

“thank you vernon. forreal.” you don’t know why his words affected you so much and made you feel such a heavy weight of guilt in the part where you held your boyfriend so deeply - your heart, but you did.

more hours had passed, and still no sign of woozi. you even tossed your pride away and called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. you must have really irritated him, but you still didn’t feel sorry. you didn’t move your pride aside that much.

you did feel somber though, considering how much you loved him even through how he had been acting lately. and without him in your life, there was no reason for you to be here - in Korea. you didn’t want to end things. you just wanted to feel loved.

you still haven’t gotten out the bed except when you needed to pee. YouTube and funny clips had been keeping your company. maybe it was because of boredom, but things began to get darker and darker in your home. you were fading into a bitter sweet slumber. regardless, it’s what you needed. maybe your cough would subdue.

jihoon is quiet as a mouse as always when he walks inside, hands full of multiple things. all day had your words rang through his mind that was already full of so many things. had he really been making you feel so worthless? like you weren’t the most important person for his soul other than his family? actually, you were his family. there was never a day where he felt like he deserved you, but the minute the two of you kissed for the first time did he know that he would do whatever he had to, to keep you forever.

so when did he stop? he kind of knew he hadn’t been his best, but he didn’t know why. it was as if he was doing it on purpose, but not because of something you did. lately, it had just been so hard to keep up with everything in his life. all of the schedules seventeen had. and in between, as he was one of the frequent producers for the group, there were so many deadlines he had to meet he just felt so overwhelmed.

but he heard you coughing, and he was so worried. even so, he didn’t ask you what was wrong. why didn’t he ask you - his baby - what’s wrong? especially after it was day three and the cough was not improving? any other man who would practically rip his limbs off to be with you, would have been catering to your every need. they would have gave you all the kisses you needed, would have given you a full body massage, and offered to wash your hair even knowing that the answer was going to be no.

but he didn’t.

when he left, he was so angry. but not at you, at himself. vernon was the first person he called as he knew that while the two of you didn’t talk often, that he was the one who knew how to get your exact feelings. he hated how much of a wimp he sounded like when he had to bargain a song in exchange for vernon to call you. vernon declined and called you anyway.

to hear you on the phone, telling vernon that you felt as if you weren’t loved. feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself? that broke him. so, he called another one of his members who he knew would guide him into the right direction - mingyu.

“ill order everything, hyung. all you have to do is pick everything up. what you need to do right now, is practice your apology. oh, and pick up some cough medicine for her.”

so he did. his little body struggled to get everything inside, but he figured you would be asleep at this time. when you were bored, you had a tendency to doze off.

his instructions were to set everything up real nice on a table and serve it to you as if you were on a date, but woozi knew you better than that. he knew all you wanted to do was eat in bed and go right back to sleep. and talk.

he walks through the slim hallway that leads into your shared bedroom, and he was right. you were sleeping. the tv shined on your beautiful skin that he loved to place his cheek on whenever he felt any negative or positive emotion. he wasn’t sure what was on the tv. you probably weren’t either. you both loved to put on random movies and shows and talk about how much they sucked.

he approaches you gently - afraid that any little noise would startle you. he places everything on the fluffy sheets; the roses, your meal, your medicine, and the usb with the song he had been saving for you all lined up in orderly fashion. your bonnet is falling off your head as always, so he adjusts it. you had a pet peeve about that.

you were so beautiful. the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire life. and you loved him. you - the brightest star in the galaxy and the sweetest soul chose him out of all of the people you had attempting to steal your heart. he couldn’t let another second go by without fixing this.

“baby.” he whispers. his thumb caresses your ear gently. he always wanted to be this guy. the hopeless romantic, always knew what to do guy, but girls never wanted him. he was always too short, too boring, all of the bad things. you never felt that way though. you always told him he was the perfect size for you. that he wasn’t boring, it was just that people never wanted to take the time to get to know him.

you moved slightly, but he knew he had just only scraped whatever dream you were currently in. he had to try a little harder to return you back to the world. his lips find themselves on your sweet face, just as you do to him every morning. little by little is he painting his love on you until you finally begin to stir.

“are you a murderer?” are the first words you speak.

you were always so hilarious, even without trying. he knew that was a genuine question no matter how funny the delivery was.

“no. i hope not.” he responds.

he can see you recognize his voice from the way you release the breathe he didn’t even know you were holding. woozi expected you to push him off you the minute you realized it was him, but you didn’t.

“hi baby.” you whisper, pulling him into you.

“hi baby.” he repeats, inhaling your sweet scent. it always made him feel like he was in heaven.

you pull back, cuffing his chubby face into his hands. if there was one thing about your fights with jihoon, it was that it wasn’t hard to make up. a simple look in each others eyes was enough to make up for everything. it was such a toxic trait, but it worked out.

“wait.” you breathe out as you notice everything behind your boyfriend. “ji...”

“it’s nothing, y/n.” he sighs, moving back so he can have a full view of you. “it’s what I should be giving you every fucking day. you are my queen. you are the only thing that is keeping me sane with this lifestyle.”

“everyday would drive even me crazy, ji.” you giggle, “you know that’s not what this is about. it’s just, I know how we used to be and I know how we are now. i don’t want us to get so comfortable with each other that we forget why we are together. you know that happened to my parents and I want to be with you forever.”

“i know.” all of sudden he feels it - the feeling he’s been feeling for the past couple of weeks whenever something bad happens. his whole body feels sick. he hasn’t told you about it because he thought it would go away, but it hasn’t. it seems as if this is going to be the worse one as it does involve the love of his life.

“hey.” you sit up, throwing one of his shirts that laid free on the bed. “what’s wrong babe? i’m here. i’m right here.”

you had never seen him like this before. you knew there was no such thing as a person who didn’t have internal issues, but this seemed like something that had been wanting to boil over for a while. you knew what severe anxiety looked like as you suffered from it. this was it.

“i don’t know, y/n.” he breathes out shakily. “this has been...happing lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me? hm?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything other than that I love you. and that I’m sorry.” he seems to be calming down from your touch. had he known this was all he needed, all the pain he suffered would have never taken place. he should have known though. you were his angel after all.

“we tell each other everything, baby.” you remind him as you begin to place gentle kisses onto his neck. “never forget that. there is nothing we can’t get through together.”

“i know.” is all he can say - your lips were too much of a distraction for him especially when he hasnt felt them in so long. he always craved you, but the two of you always took a lot of breaks. your relationship was much deeper than your love making no matter how addicted the two of you were to eachother.

you want to get right into it. you want to throw him on the bed, and ride every ounce of anxiety your boyfriend has right off, and then you want to eat your food, take your medicine, and drift into what you know will be the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. but you two had to talk. everything needed to be squashed.

“ji, what can I do to fix this? i don’t like the way I’ve been feeling. and I know you don’t either.”

“you are perfect. you always have been. it’s me, but I promise I’ll do better. i’ll get everything under control.”

“you mean we will get everything under control. honestly baby, let’s not even use that terminology. we will learn to overcome this. anxiety is completely normal. you just can’t let it control you okay? and we have to communicate. don’t be afraid to show me any parts of you especially when you’ve seen my literal insides.” you joke, just to see his smile. he does, and it’s so bright. your foreheads lean into eachother immediately - natural just like your love.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you.” you repeat. the two of you tried your best to not add too, to that sentence, as it meant in exchange for the other ones love and that’s not what was going on here. no matter what, the two of you loved each other. even if one stopped.

woozi goes back to buisness immediately, knowing you two were better now. his hands remove the covers that covered your body, and his tounge finds itself on your neck - his favorite place that’s not inside you.

“you feeling better?” he questions, still attacking you.

“i think this will distract me for a bit.” you giggle

“i’ll make it it all go away. you know I will.” are his final words before he lays on top of you, sliding his shirt off of your body with ease.

you were in for a long night. and the two of you still were in need of a conversation about what he was going through, but you knew what the both of you needed in this moment. you needed to feel each other again.

[domosakis]

[TARO-222] insatiable, pure love!

★ this is inspired by a hentai that was turned into a porn LOL i pretty much just rewrote it the whole first half but then i get bored of it and made it my own story at the end so sorry if its confusing but i spent a lot of time on it so i hope you like it!! ♡

✭ words: 1.9k !! cw: extreme dubcon, borderline noncon, i can't tell who is insane in this story, toxic relationship, assault, public sex, reader is feminized, lmk if i forgot smth omg im so sorry

‘i didn’t really want to do it… at the beginning.’

at least shotaro tells himself that, whether it’s true or not. he took the train home after practice like always but you were there. you looked so cute in your uniform but he couldn’t help but notice how sensual your body made you look. plaid skirt barely reaching the top of your thighs and a thin white blouse that might as well have been made with tissue.

he was addicted as soon as he saw you. he felt the need to go home right away, thoughts of making you scream plaguing his mind. stress, deadlines, the pressure of his academy… he deserved a little happiness right?

suddenly the train stopped and shotaro took the opportunity to dramatically fall towards you, your back against his. his hand pressed against your ass, moving your skirt up showing your panties to anyone who looked your way.

his inner monologue was just a stream of excuses he made to keep touching you. so soft… and even though he knows it’s not right he doesn’t make even an attempt to stop.

‘again… another idiot.’

you wondered how far he would go today, after all you did need to get home and start preparing dinner. you didn’t resist instead letting your mind wander to your daily chores and responsibilities, you just hoped your stop came soon.

suddenly you were yanked out of your thoughts, your body carelessly being tossed into the position he wanted and his hands came to grab at your breasts. he wasn’t gentle at all in the way he handled you but at least he wasn’t being completely rude. you’d let him do what he wanted as long as he stayed quiet. he’s not really hurting me like the others so what’s the worst that could happen?

shotaro let himself get brave, after all you weren’t denying him. if anything you were making it too easy. he let his hand slip under your panties to feel your cunt directly. he only grew more confident when he felt how wet you were.

you didn’t understand why you felt this way, you could say it was your body’s natural reaction but then how did you end up with this stranger in the love hotel down the street?

strange men doing what they wanted to you wasn't what you would call a foreign experience. maybe it was because you didn’t dress all that modestly, maybe it was your body or maybe you were just an easy target. whatever it was you definitely weren’t able to defend yourself from it and you ended up in a lot of rough situations.

this felt different though. okay sure so maybe he still molested you on the train without any communication but… he looked your age, and cute, and he didn’t call you mean names or hit you, and he even took you to this nice hotel instead of taking you against the urinal in a seedy bathroom!

maybe you needed to raise your standards.

whatever. it was too late now, this man (whose name you still didn’t now) had you laid underneath him, playing with your body however he wanted and you got the slight feeling he hadn’t touched anybody else in awhile at least. he took his time massaging your tits and all you could do was writhe beneath him.

“do you feel good?” shotaro asked you once he had your top half completely bare. you didn’t answer and turned your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

“no? your nipples are so hard though…” it was true your body was responding to everything he did but you didn’t want him to know that. still, it didn’t do much to deter him and suddenly his hands reached to pin yours next to your head, his mouth attaching itself to your breast.

you couldn’t help but moan out then, your hips bucking to meet his. your body had never been played with like this before and you needed more. he complimented your body and it made your heart swell in a twisted way.

“fuck. why are you so wet?” he laughed at you but you were distracted by his fingers playing with your clothed clit.

“you’re so cute, i need to see more.” you could barely see only feeling him spread your legs apart and taking off your panties roughly leaving only your skirt bunched around your waist. and before you knew it he was fucking into you.

‘this can’t be bad right?’ shotaro thought. ‘they’re so wet they must be enjoying this’

he could barely hold himself back grabbing onto the skirt around you and using it to fuck his dick into you harder. his thrusts were fast and unrelenting and you tried to say no but nothing comprehensible came out of your mouth.

you could already feel him deep within you and you thought you would cry once he pushed your leg to your chest, taking you sideways.

“no i can’t! i can’t!” you managed to cry out but it didn’t matter anyways, if anything it felt like it made him go harder. he let himself stay deep inside you for a bit, enjoying the way your body twitched around him before flipping you onto your stomach.

he took his time teasing you, rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt until he finally listened to you begging him to stop. you were so far gone at that point only able to focus on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. it was almost painful how fast he rubbed against you but his tip was reaching inside you so well.

you almost felt yourself losing consciousness before he pulled out, cumming across your tits and letting some hit your face. your body wouldn’t stop twitching and you realized you had cum as well, the feeling of your pussy clenching around nothing making you feel outrageously empty.

you expected to open your eyes to an empty room, left alone to clean yourself up and get home. instead you were very surprised to see the same man who had fucked you to the edge on his knees, his hands together begging for forgiveness.

“i’m so sorry! please forgive me!” you could hear him mumbling to himself and you almost felt bad for him.

“i’m so terrible, and i didn’t even use a condom… if you get pregnant… i’m so sorry!”

you had quite literally never been in this situation before and you were afraid the man was about to burst into tears.

“uhm… it doesn’t matter really.” you said before looking away. now shotaro was taken aback so you kept going before he could say anything.

“well it does matter, you shouldn’t assault girls but uhm…” you had no idea how to explain this.

“truthfully it’s really easy for me to be attracted to you, and i’ve gone through a lot worse…” you started going into detail about your past experiences and shotaro was growing increasingly confused and worried about your mental state.

“anyways today felt different, like you didn’t cum inside me! that’s a first and… i even came. i felt like you were gentle.” shotaros mind started to reel at the idea of the things you would let him get away with if you thought that was gentle and even when you’re praising him for doing less then the bare minimum he could only think of worse things. truly terrible.

you kept going.

“i won’t call the police and… i felt really good today.”

shotaro thought he was going to die, he just assaulted you and you were saying these things. he could feel himself getting hard again and before he could stop it he was back on top of you.

you liked it. someone like you was actually attracted to someone like him. he couldn’t pass the chance to take you again. he was going to play with you as much as you let him.

after shotaro had once again taken you how he liked he, once again, went through the five stages of grief begging for your forgiveness. you were too fucked out to comfort him at the point and he quickly left leaving you with fare for the ride home.

he decided to leave the whole incident behind him, citing it as a life lesson learned. (even though he should’ve known that assault was bad without having to do it but, whatever.) he promised himself that he would forget about that kind of thing and focus on dance. that is until he ran into you once again.

you greeted him first, before he could run away and that action alone confused him. you looked so cute just like the first time he saw you, but this time you were in a pink tank top and short denim skirt. equally as irresistible. you guys actually made small talk at first until shotaro couldn’t hold it in.

“what happened last night… would you want to do it again? i’ll be gentle!”

you smiled weakly. “if you say so.”

you gave him a blowjob in a bathroom stall before he took you back to his dorm.

in his defense it was very gentle, he took his time with you leaving hot kisses all over your body. you didn’t know what to do with yourself you’d never had sex like that before. he was sweet and thoughtful and you found yourself wanting to hear his voice and feel him more and more.

you wanted him to feel the same way about you. you wanted him to think about you for more than your body. you wanted him to crave every part of you. you felt yourself get lost in the feelings you were developing for him. you pressed your hands against his chest when he moved to enter you.

"please… i want to make you feel good too.” shotaro just stared at you slightly confused before he responded.

“you make me feel so good baby, i think i’m addicted to you.” it’s possible he said more but that’s all you needed to hear. you reached your arms around him and pressed yourself as close to his body as you could.

at that moment you could start to forget the circumstances in which you met. shotaro was so sweet to you now and he wasn’t mean to you then. would it be too much to hope for a relationship with this man? you could imagine letting him use you whenever he wants keeping him satisfied and he would be kind to you in return.

you wanted to kiss him so bad, you were staring at his lips and he thankfully took the hint grabbing your hair to pull you impossibly closer to him. it made you so happy. having shotaro as your boyfriend so no one else could mess with you. and he makes you feel so good…

shotaro loved the look on your face. you looked absolutely obsessed with him and that’s how he wanted it. he felt so lucky that you accepted him, any guilt that he previously felt was totally gone, now he just wanted to have you near him all the time. have you as his and make sure everyone knew.

you were perfect for him. so responsive and eager to please. you loved everything he gave you and he forgot anything else mattered when he saw you.

at some point he knew this was bad. the way you met and how you got to this point. but you didn’t care so why should he? he’ll take advantage of your past to make sure that you’re thankful for everything he does to you.