#i just want to move back in with my parents | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azzifudd · 18 hours ago

Text

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?”

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips.

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word.

“Oh, where in Minnesota?”

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.”

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.”

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed.

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster.

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty.

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.”

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.”

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands.

“Please, please, please?”

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife.

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.”

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.”

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel.

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky.

“Paige? Are you okay?”

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!”

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?”

“You wanted to.”

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top.

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin.

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.”

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again.

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe.

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands.

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?”

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world.

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name.

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.”

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again.

“Oh, babe. What happened?”

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself.

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.”

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.”

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her.

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight.

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches.

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible.

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco.

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside.

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched.

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time.

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in.

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots.

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses.

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once.

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her.

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.”

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin.

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her.

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi.

“You wanna?”

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt.

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows.

“Go ahead.”

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?”

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales.

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs.

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.”

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers.

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy.

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again.

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!”

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room.

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?”

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat.

“Of course.”

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously.

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.”

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth.

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face.

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country.

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before.

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi.

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply.

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.”

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay!”

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up.

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it.

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box.

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart.

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek.

“I love it. I love you.”

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.”

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game.

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug.

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try.

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team.

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes.

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest.

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.”

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge.

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her.

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.”

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely.

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate.

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her.

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes.

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.”

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here.

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige.

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes.

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.”

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.”

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep.

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee.

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face.

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee.

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows.

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression.

“Don’t do this.”

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her.

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry.”

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!”

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.”

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years.

“Azzi-”

“Paige-”

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes.

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out.

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.”

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous.

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.”

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.”

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her.

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back.

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere.

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers.

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena.

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her.

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?”

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.”

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments.

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most.

“What do you want, Paige?”

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach.

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.”

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige.

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls.

“I-”

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media.

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully.

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away.

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!”

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy.

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court.

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down.

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.”

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them.

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers

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angstywaifu · 2 days ago

Text

Jealousy - Garrick Tavis

Request - Jealous garrick tavis one, with angst and lots of love after confessing feelings @thegiftofacreativemind

Masterlist | Links

“What in gods name crawled up your ass and died?” Imogen snickers as Bodhi tries to hide his laughter as I glare at her.

“Nothing. Now get back to training.” I bark at her.

Bodhi rolls his eyes. “It’s because Y/N is spending less time with him. He’s jealous of her new friend.”

“I am not.” I snap at him causing them both to snicker at me.

“You do. You look like you’re about two seconds away from walking over there and ripping his head off.” Xaden adds from where he leans against the wall watching.

As much as I was denying it to them, I was jealous. I wanted nothing more to go over there and pull that damn flier away from her. Tell him to back off and find someone else to train with. But I know that wouldn’t go down well. Would earn me a slap and some choice words from Y/N. The fun of being fucking obsessed with your best friend and unable to do anything about it. I couldn’t wreck that. I was her best friend. A best friend who had a fucking reputation for not settling down. And now here I was head over heels for her and nothing I could do because she’d seen me go from girl to girl.

“I am not.” I snap again at him over my shoulder.

I barely hear the others laugh and snicker at me as I see red. On the mat they’d chosen to spar on I watch as he manages to pin her to the mat beneath him. Pinning her hands to the mat above her head. Sitting on her hips as he holds her down. Watching as his face flushes, the way his eyes take her in. His attention shifts when she throws him off her, causing their laugh to echo across the make shift gym.

He gets to his feet first, holding his hand out to her to help her up. I grind my teeth as she smiles up at Him and takes his hand. Laughing as he pulls her up and she stumbles into him, resting her other hand on his arm as she rights herself.

I move before I even realise I have. Bodhi muttering an “oh shit” behind me as I storm across the gym. The flier looks up as I approach, colour draining from his face as I storm over to them. She turns and follows his line of sight, her eyes capturing mine instantly. She furrows her brow, clearly confused as to why I look so angry as I storm over to them.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words die on the lips as I grab her arm and pull her away. She stumbles after me in an effort to keep up with me as I drag her over to the door that leads to the adjoining courtyard of Riorson house. I push her into the open door of the throne room, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What the hell was that?” She snaps at me as I pace back and forth in front of her, clenching and unclenching my fists.

I ignore her question, unsure how to answer after how I’d just reacted in front of everyone. So much for not reacting. Dumbass. She steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks as she stands there with her arms crossed over her chest as she looks up at me. Confusion and anger are written all over her face. I go to side step her but she just steps in front of me again.

“Talk. Now.” She barks out.

“It’s not-“

“Garrick Theodore Tavis. What. The hell. Was that?” She demands.

Shit. Full name. Not good. She never uses that on me. Ever. It’s like being scolded by my parents all over again. Yet some how this is far scarier.

“I…. I didn’t like how he was touching you. Looking at you.” I admit gruffly as I avert my eyes from her. I didn’t want to see how she was going to react. Didn’t want to see the pity she might show me.

“We were sparring Garrick. Of course he was going to have to touch me. That’s the whole point.” She says with a shake of her head as walks a few steps away. “You can’t go protective best friend because I’m training with someone.”

Ouch. There it was. Best friend. The words I didn’t want to hear.

“Trust me it had nothing to do with you sparring.” I growl out as I turn my eyes back to her.

She spins around to face me, anger evident in her features. “Then please Garrick, tell me what it is. Because from where I’m standing it looks like my best friend is jealous because I’ve made a new friend while you’ve been off on patrols and missions. You can’t expect me to sit around in my room on my own while you go away for days at a time. I need other friends Garrick.”

“Trust me, he wants more to be more than just friends.” I snap at her angrily, letting my jealously get the better of me.

“And would that be such a bad thing that a guy finally showed interest in me?” She asks, her voice cracking at the end, letting me see a glimpse of how hurt she is.

“Yes!” I yell at her without thinking. “No. God dammit. You deserve to be happy Y/N, more than anything.”

“Then what the hell is it Garrick? Because I’m not sure what you want from me right now.”

“You.” I say as I take a tentative step towards her. She looks at me in shock, her lips parting as if she wants to say something. “I want you Y/N. Have for a while now.”

“No.” She says as she shakes her head in denial. “Y-you don’t do relationships.”

I can’t deny that. She’s watched casually go from girl to girl for years. Never once had I settled on one girl. It wasn’t cause I didn’t want to. It was because no one held my interest, and with everything that had been going on, committing to someone was the last thing I needed. But in the last few weeks that had changed. She’d gone from being my best friend, to someone I wanted more with. Our entire friendship toed that line, but thats all it was. Till it wasn’t. She’d been in front of me this whole damn time. And

”Maybe I do. Maybe there’s someone right in front of me that made me realise that’s what I want.” I admit, taking another step towards her, closing the gap between us.

She lowers her head, looking down at her hands that she fidgets with nervously. “Don’t.”

”Don’t what?” I ask as I reach out to grasp her hands in mine, but she pulls them back as she cradles them against her stomach.

”Don’t say those things.” She says as she takes a step back and looks up at me, her eyes glistening with tears she does her best to blink back. Shit. “Don’t say those things and get my hopes up.”

Holy shit. She feels the same way. But she’s trying not to. I can see in her eyes that she’s been holding back. And I know it’s because of my fucking history with girls. I reach out but she takes another step back.

”Trust me, I am not getting your hopes up. I didn’t just lose it in front of all the riders and fliers here just to get your hopes up.” I growl out, her eyes widening at my tone and words. “Gods I’d do it again just to prove to you how much you mean to me and to prove I’m past what I use to be like.”

As her lips part to protest I close the distance, grasping her face in my hands as I bring my lips to hers. It doesn’t take long for her lips to move against mine, kissing me back intensely and passionately as she wraps her arms around my neck, her fingers tugging on my hair. I can’t help the groan that rumbles in my throat, my body wanting and craving her more as she pulls herself flush against my body. Her lips part easily for me as I pull her lower lip between my teeth, gasping as I claim her mouth. I move my hands down her body, grasping her waist in my hands as I hold her tightly. Just as I lower a hand to the back of her thigh the door to the throne room bangs open, both of us breaking apart to stare at Brennan who stands there looking at us in shock.

He clears his throat as he hides the shock from his face. “Might be good if you two found another place to do that.” He says, trying to hide the smile on his lips.

I nod at him, taking her hand in mine as I pull her past Brennan and out into the courtyard just as everyone leaves the training room, Bodhi and Imogen’s eyes instantly finding us as we walk out of the throne room hand in hand. Fucking great.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #fourth wing imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis imagine #the empyrean

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atzhrts · 2 days ago

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everyone going crazy over anton SAME 🫠 imagine surprising him at his parents’ house after not seeing him for 2 months and he’s just so insatiable, you having this perfect innocent persona & keeping a good figure in front of his family but his only wish would be to take you on the spot. his parents would notice him behaving differently but they would innocently believe that he is happy to finally be home. the secret groping, constant touching and need to be near you. i can see him on the family couch having you sit on his lap during the whole movie, not watching a single thing just having you in his arms (and on his huge cock). after hanging out he would fuck you so hard in his bed whispering about how much he missed you. would have to cover ur mouth & telling you to keep quiet or else everyone will notice how dirty you are… aftercare would be insane. he would bath you, dress you and just do everything. I need him so bad 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yeah my page looks like i’m the biggest anton stan ever and he’s not even in my bias line 😭😭

anton is mentally cursing you out right now, normally he’d find it so cute how you get along with his parents so well, helping his mum set the table and telling his dad what a big fan of his you are. making his brother laugh and his parents smile at him, telling him how lucky he has to have you. that is if you wouldn’t have sent him the most delicious picture of you in your new set (the one he picked out and bought for you) just minutes before you arrived. it’s torture for anton, knowing exactly what lies beneath your innocent appearance and having to sit back and pretend he’s not rock hard beneath his pants. having to pretend he’s just showing you around the kitchen, letting you pick out what you want to drink and not groping your tits over your shirt, frantically moving his eyes from the door, where anyone could just walk in back to your boobs in front of him.

it’s torture, having his mum call the two of you adorable when anton pulls you into his lap, only the two of knowing of the way his fingers drum against your clothed heat. burying his face in your neck to hide his breathy groans, anton knows how risky this is but he has absolutely no plans of stopping you from grinding over his dick.

and the rest of the night is torture as well, sweet torture. having placed a pillow between his bed frame and the wall to make sure he won’t wake the whole house up with his thrusts. anton’s hand pressed against your mouth to muffle your moans and his face hidden in the crook of your neck, teeth gently scraping against the skin to not make too much noise himself.

he knows he has to come up with some excuse why you have a hickey on your shoulder and why he had the water running at 2am, because “oh yeah we had rough sex in my childhood bedroom” won’t cut it but it was totally worth it.

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dynamo-of-fake-twin-brother-fame · 23 hours ago

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So my brain doesn't make the chemical that gets you to SIT STILL while asleep. Or at least.... It does make it, but not nearly enough. So while some people with the same sleep issues as me need railings to keep them from rolling out of bed, I just kinda... Wiggle. Rotate like a rotisserie chicken. Burrito myself. Un rotisserie chicken. Un burrito. Wiggle. End up (sometimes) with my feet up where my head is supposed to be. This is why I tend to collect a lot of stuff down around the foot of my bed. Boxes of magic cards, clothes I've only worn once so far, for an hour, so they're still clean, extra blankets and coats, boxes of mtg cards, journals.... They trick my brain into not flipping around the wrong way when I'm sleeping. I'll still curl and uncurl like a demonic pill bug, but I don't end up with my feet on my pillow.

And for the longest time, I didn't know that was a thing. I just thought that's how people slept. Evolution's way of keeping us safe at our most vulnerable. Cuz if you keep moving around when you sleep, things that want to eat prey in it's sleep will think we aren't. It wasn't until I went on a trip with a young girls group back when I was still in it and we shared beds in the hotel that my bedmate (I think her name was Angela. Or Amelia? I can distinctly remember her face and the dress she wore for meetings) mentioned I 'moved around a lot in my sleep'. Like, I noticed she DIDN'T move around a lot, and I thought that was something humans tried to do when they shared a bed (I'd never had to share a bed with anyone before, that I can remember, outside of maybe sleeping with my parents when I was really small and had a nightmare) so I did try to stay... More still. Until I fell asleep properly and lost control of the unconscious urge to spin.

I'm wiggly when I sleep. I wobble. I spin. I rotate like a jpeg in a PowerPoint presentation animation. And this means that during the time your brain is supposed to be recharging... Mine just kinda half-asses it. Like a charging cable that's old and bent so you gotta hold your phone *juuuuuuuust* right to charge it. And I have found out (with some outside help) that the anxiety (that crazy anxiety that's so bad I have to medicate) makes it worse. If I'm anxious, I'm more wiggly than usual. If I'm calm, I'm less wiggly. I also find I'm less wiggly in the cold months when I've got eighteen pounds of blanketry on me.

(I do think it's kinda funny that the original state of our brains is WIGGLE. Like, our brains evolved to produce a chemical that stops WIGGLE, but if you've had a traumatic brain injury or your brain just doesn't produce that chemical, it'll reset to WIGGLE MODE. And WIGGLE MODE is the less optimal setting. Humans were badly designed in a high school engineering class, and the four students keep having to fuck with the code to fix things, but every change to the code fucks up something else.)

But all this to say -- there are some days I wake up, and I'm just bone-tired. I want to immediately go back to bed. Because the wiggles were with me the night before. It sounds funnier talking about it like it's some sort of old-timey affliction like Victorian wasting sickness rather than saying my brain is more caveman-y than normal. Because that's... Kinda what's going on. The original, caveman brain had WIGGLE MODE ACTIVE. And it's exhausting. So it's understandable why life expectancy wasn't as long back then. Our bodies just... Ran outta juice faster back then.

Whenever I take a long car ride I end up exhausted afterwards, and I’m always like “why am I so tired? I was just sitting around doing nothing all day.”

But the answer, it turns out, is I was doing something. Riding in a car jars your body in many directions and requires constant microadjustments of your muscles just to stay in place and hold your normal posture. Because you’re inside the car, inside the situation, it’s easy not to notice all the extra work you’re doing just to maintain the status quo.

There’s all sorts of type of work that we think of as “free” that require spending energy: concentrating, making decisions, managing anxiety, maintaining hypervigilance in an unfriendly environment, dealing with stereotype threat, processing a lot of sensory input, repairing skin cells damaged sun exposure, trying to stay warm in a cold room.

The next time you think you’re tired from “nothing”, consider instead that you’re probably in situation where you’re doing a lot of unnoticed extra work just to stay in place.

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 2 days ago

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~{ Heyyy, so I’ll gonna be busy for a bit so this should hold you feral gremlins off for a bit so I don’t have you all on the edge of my woods with fire and pitchforks, soo hope you like }~

•The Dancer•

So when John Constantine walked into the house of mysterious only to see the FUCKING embodiment of time itself which is known to almost never bring good news [and who he has has had a few “one night” stands with, even if said “one night” lasted like a month with no change in the outside world] so John is internally freaking out inside.

And that’s when Clockwork turns to him and floats over to him until he’s in front of John and he says in his old and ethereal voice.

“Hello Constantine” Clockwork says and John feels like the pit in his stomach has grown into a cavern by what the embodiment of time may want from himso john turns his charm up to a fucking 11.

“Hello to you Clockwork, may this be a house visit maybe we could start where we ended last time~” John says in a flirty tone but in his voice in a underlying nervousness that he knows Clockwork can hear.

That’s when he hears Clockwork chuckle and responds with “Fear not, John I do not carry misfortune with my visit”The Ancient of time says with an air of amusement and mirth in his eyes as he looks at John. “Than why the sudden visit?” John ask still with a bit of a flirty undertone in his voice, look his not taking ANY chances with Clockwork anytime soon.

“The introduction of new Prince of death is in the coming days and you are in attendance” Clockwork says with finality that told john that he didn’t have a chance in the matter of his attendance and before John can say anything back Clockwork says “I will summon you when it is time, be prepared.”.

And he’s gone back to wherever Clockwork goes to do his job and John is just relieved there was no bad news for the world but then John realizes what clockwork said.

“THERES A NEW BLOODY FUCKING PRINCE???”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

After a bit the ghost side of Danny’s (half)life has chilled out with him and the other ghost coming to an agreement for them to leave amity Park alone and Danny will go to The Ghost Zone three times a week to make sure he stays healthy and to hang out with them.

And turns out the observers wanted more power around a few thousand years back and used their influence and power to turn Pariah Dark insane and put him in the nap-time box so they could rule The Ghost Zone so Danny beat their collective asses and help Pariah Dark chill TF out so he’s back to normal and over this time has grown close with Danny and has come to think of him as a son so there chill.

Oh and don’t worry Pariah Dark also beat the ever loving shit out of the observers for turning him insane and turning him into a tyrant

But for the human side of Danny’s life has become more dangerous for Danny.

The G.I.W and his parents have somehow managed to get ahold [ VLAD ] of blood blossoms and turning their weapons more and more deadly for him and with Jazz off to college and Tucker, Sam having their own things. Danny is not having a good time and he talks about his concerns for his safety with Pariah Dark and he suggest that Danny moves over to the ghost zone full time as it is too dangerous with the blood blossom weapons and it’s not like the Fentons will notice him missing.

So Danny grabs his things and moves to the ghost zone full time and as he’s basically Pariah Dark’s ghost son at this point he is welcomed as the new prince so he’s just been hanging around the ghost zone for awhile [3 months].

And in this time Danny picked up dancing from a new friend of his who in her life was called..what was it again, oh yeah a gypsy! And she taught him how to dance and it has been affecting his ghost form so that’s fun and after he was found dancing in the gardens.

He had earned the nickname “The Dancing Prince”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-•Appearances•

Danny’s dancing wear-

[ He likes to dress in more airy clothes when he’s dancing and the hair the accessories for when he’s dancing was given to him by his new friend ]

Danny’s normal wear-

[ Danny’s hair grew out a bit so when he’s not dancing he just holds it up with ribbons]

+ Danny has jewelry but I can’t find any good ones so that really up to you gremlins

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

~{ And that’s it! Hope this holds you guys off for a bit and the new friend I mentioned is mostly based off one of my OCs so just a random thing and if you gremlins like this I’ll probably add more but anyways byeeee }~

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vonbabbitt · 17 hours ago

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i found the chiba loredrop i sent to my staff thirty years ago. enjoy

CHIBA!!!! so chiba was born in a pretty broke family as an only child. she was always a super peppy kid with a lot of energy and so she made friends pretty easily and generally had a good time. she got along with her dad but he wasnt super involved, mostly the type that sees child-rearing as a woman's job and left most of the work to chiba's mom while he did Guy Stuff like drink and watch tv and go to work and sometimes chat with his daughter! chibas mom was also very old-fashioned so she didnt mind because she had pretty much the same mindset! so she'd do the cooking and cleaning and raising chiba while her dad would just kinda go to work and hang around. they were mad broke. neither of her parents were SUPER affectionate towards her and her mom was a bit more focused with making sure she stayed out of trouble than making sure she was happy, so while she was allowed to go run around and be a kid, she wasnt really allowed to do anything that would get her super dirty or disturb her parents

when chiba was about four, her mom got this idea in her head that she would be a fantastic child actor (and it would also pull their family out of debt which would be great!) so she starts taking chiba to auditions and local theatre and trying to get her an agent and such and such. chibas not really into acting but she likes meeting all the new people and she likes playing pretend so she really doesnt mind! except soon the push for chiba to act starts working and she starts getting cast in stuff. shes cute and extroverted and energetic so of course shed be good in an instant noodle commercial or whatever tf. the point is that she starts getting work and starts appearing on tv! her family starts making a bit of money and her mom starts pushing HARD to get her into bigger roles. this means that she also starts getting a lot stricter. chiba gets pulled out of school because theres no time for school when she has to be on set. tutours only. her mom starts making sure she's always dressed well and her hair is always neat and shes always clean and tidy and most importantly, always smiling! because its cute and makes her look approachable and pleasant to work with!

so by the time chiba is six, the push is going well. shes getting minor roles in random shows here and there, usually as an extra or minor character, nothing super massive but its definitely something. shes honestly kind of over the whole thing by now though. she misses being at school and seeing her friends. she misses getting to go out and play whenever she wants. she does not really like acting! but money is coming in fast and offers are coming in fast and her mom is not ready to lose the good life quite yet. her dad doesnt really notice or care cuz hes not that involved. but chiba is starting to burn out and its starting to show in her performance. her mom does basically everything she can think of - shes taking her to extra acting classes, shes trying to bribe her with toys and gifts, shes scolding her for not being upbeat enough - nothing is really working for her, sooooooo

at age seven, chibas mom puts her on caffeine pills! its fine cuz theyre only caffeine its not like its meth or anything.......is chibas moms defence. but chiba starts taking caffeine pills to boost her performance and now shes back in action. shes usually pretty exhausted but the important part is that shes awake and shes peppy and shes acting. huzzah!

so chiba is getting more and more popular and shes ending up on a lot of TV shows, usually shows aimed at other kids, which she thinks is neat because its almost like shes talking to other kids again but not really but still! so shes doing a lot of television and her family is making BIG money now. they move to a very nice place in kyoto on chiba's dime and from there her career is allowed to REALLY skyrocket because shes basically living in the media capitol now. shes on set constantly, her face is everywhere and shes hustling hard. its around age nine that chiba starts getting a bit bigger (because. yknow, age) and her mom does not love that. if chibas entire appeal is that shes a little angel baby girl, how can she get bigger? shes gotta stay small! so this is where chibas mom has a super brilliant idea: chiba should start smoking! nicotine is an appetite suppressant and chiba needs to keep thin, so smoking it is! chiba ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATES IT, which she expresses, but then her mom cries and starts going on about how horrible of a mother she is and chiba feels bad so THE SMOKING BEGINS.

when chiba gets to be about twelve, her career is in full swing and shes picked up her first regular sitcom role as a lead, which is huge news. her family is ROLLING in money now and theres no way theyre ever going to give that up so shes basically locked into the industry for life. the only problem is that......shes twelve! so now puberty begins! chiba realizes her body is starting to change and FLIPS THE FUCK OUT BECAUSE SHE NEEDS TO LOOK LIKE A KID FOREVER THATS HER ENTIRE APPEAL IN THE INDUSTRY. sooooooo

chiba starts taking diet pills! now on a steady diet of diet pills, caffeine and cigarettes, you can probably imagine that chibas doing just fkin fantastic! shes a good actor of course, so very little of this ever goes noticed by anyone, because she does a very good job of appearing cheerful and peppy and healthy! but the fact is that shes horribly, HORRIBLY malnourished and exhausted and suffering from a lot of physical and mental health problems. however, shes making a LOT of money, so her mom just keeps encouraging her to keep going and telling her how happy their family is now that they have money and crying every time chiba talks about wanting to quit until chiba feels guilty and backs down. huzzah!

chiba is basically dead inside by this point. she just feels empty and sad and hungry all the time. this is when she starts realizing that the world she gets to live in on her sitcom - happy mom, happy dad, two big brothers who love her, funny plots and family love and yadda yadda - is a lot more appealing than her actual life! so if she could just be that character in that world forever, wouldnt that be awesome? so thats basically what she does! chiba starts just kinda playing pretend all the time. shes a little girl! life is good as a little girl! shes happy as a little girl! nothing bad or scary ever happens to her on tv, so if she can be that person from tv, nothing bad or scary will ever happen to her in real life either! all those insecurities she has about her body? her huge huge fear of ever appearing adult or being looked at in an adult way? no problem! shes a little girl!

+5 years and then shes in the killing game

#tetro pink #tetro danganronpa #tetro danganronpa pink #von.txt

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burning-omen · 1 day ago

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With Everything I Say and Do (part 1)

Jason Todd x Male!reader

(A/n: Unrelated to the fic but I love Jason's fuck ass hair from utrh. Also, this isn't meant to be one specific version of Jason, I pulled from several different canons and also made shit up while writing this. Also, also, peep the title, Brokeback Mountain reference, I know I'm so cool)

Ao3 ver.

Summary: Jason isn't stalking you, stalking would imply something more sinister than what he was doing- he was just...watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner.

W.C: 6,486

Warnings: THIS IS A FLUFF FIC I SWEAR, PTSD, childhood trauma, mommy AND daddy issues (both reader and jason), child abuse, mentions of Jason and Bruce fighting, depressive episodes, anger issues, murders, child death, bombings, canon typical Gotham violence, stalking (affectionate), breaking and entering, Y/n's friends being cringe but I love them so shut up about it, Barbara and Jason being friends, homelessness and being kicked out (reader, pre-fic) mentions of Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Bruce Wayne (not really a warning just wanted to mention it), also, I didn't send this to my proof reader beforehand so if you see a fuck up feel free to mention it.

God, you forgot how ridiculous you were in middle school. Reading through your old journal- which had been shoved in a box once it was full, then shoved in another box when you moved out of your parents house-it really just showed that your avoidant tendencies had been festering for far longer than you’d care to admit. Seriously, were you actually that concerned about- you re-read the chicken scratch that was your writing back then, squinting slightly- the fucking moon landing of all things? No, you weren’t, but it had been April 28th and the day before had been a lot. So now you have a passage about the moon landing.

It had been closer to the bottom of the box, covered by old memorabilia from your early teen years. With a trash bag to one side of you and a pile of things you were keeping on the other.

It’s about time you went through it- the box has been sitting under your bed long enough, and really, when were you ever going to need an old hoodie from Gotham City Middle School? Never, so it went in the trash pile. You, of course, got distracted by your diary and have been reading through the pages for the past half hour- you really don’t remember being this edgy- good fucking lord. You flipped through the last couple of pages until you landed on what was supposed to be the blank, white card stock at the back of the book- only to see the word “LOSER” written in big, red letters. You blinked, now who the hell did that? Defacing your perfectly good diary. Under the graffiti, in smaller letters, was “-Jason”

You closed the book. Of course. Who else?

Really. He’s the only other person you’d let have the book long enough for this kind of vandalism to make sense. He’s the only person who your adolescence self wouldn’t have thrown a fit at for touching your property- or making fun of you, even in a joking fashion. You smiled down at the book for a second before tossing it in the keep pile.

You pulled the next item out of your little memory box. It was your senior portrait- sorta. It was just a picture of you in your cap and gown- you’d skipped school the day the actual senior portraits were taken- not intentionally, you just skipped school a lot then, and happened to hop the gate that day- and every other day that week. You were smiling in the picture, but your eyes were far too dark and far too tired, you weren’t standing straight, slouching and leaning slightly- but it was good enough for your mom, so it hung in the living room of your parents house for the next 3 years. She’d tried to put makeup under your eyes, fussing with your hair and your gown until she decided to take the photo as you were. Some days you wonder where that patience had gone- that forgiveness and kindness that she showed to you that day. You sighed, you could reminisce and lament about your parents later, for now you needed to go through the rest of this shit.

You flipped the frame over, bending the little metal pieces back, and taking the picture out. Folding it down the middle and sitting it on your night stand- you’d find a place for it later- the frame went with the rest of the trash.

The box was almost empty- small knick knacks at the bottom, some more clothes, an umbrella- you picked it up, checking for holes in the canopy. It was old, but it was better than any other cheap umbrella you’ve ever had. Resisting the pestering urge to run your fingers over the bronze “J.T” inset in the handle, you set it in the keep pile. The rest of the box was pretty much trash- buttons and pins, crumbled class notes, more school spirit wear, and Gotham High School's Library’s one and only copy of Pride and Prejudice. Oops- you hadn’t meant to take that. Letting out a quiet sigh into your empty room, you thought, ‘oh well’ you doubted they wanted it back after the years it's been rotting- and you really didn’t want it either, it was dirty and had something inappropriate written on nearly every page. An unsalvageable childhood artifact- now bagged up with everything else you deemed trash.

The sun had set hours ago, and it was a weekend- Gotham’s crime scene was always overly active on weekends, and you’d rather not get mugged on your way to the trash shoot-

‘Not like I’ve got anything to give..’

–Still, you sat the bag by your front door. Walking through your dark apartment, the only light coming from the desk lamp in your bedroom, the loud, creaking floor covering the sound of your footsteps. You weren’t afraid of the dark- but you did live in Gotham- so you were more reasonably cautious of the dark than anything. You should be- you’ve had the literal Batman in your apartment before. Why that freak was in your bedroom, you may never know, but he left as soon as you woke up so you decided- after changing the lock on your door and buying a gun and deadbolts for every window and door in your house, that you weren’t going to worry about it.

Even if you’re 90% sure he bugged your place- you’d just have to deal with it. He is Batman- invasive and mysterious is kinda what he does according to the Gotham Gazette.

Back in your room, you shoved everything from the “keep” pile back in the box to be dealt with…eventually. You’ll get to it by the end of the week- probably- no, nope, no more procrastination, you’ll put it away in the morning- after breakfast and a shower.

Kicking your slippers off, stepping onto the freezing, wood floor for just a second before crawling into bed- your heater was broken and the city was just as cold as it always was, so you wrapped yourself in every cover and blanket you had in a nearly successful attempt at comfort. A bit of cold air would seep in every couple of minutes, but you could handle it, at least for the next few days until the building manager is able to get it fixed (turns out it's not just your heater, no it’s everybody's heater. So your entire apartment building is freezing, but you’re freezing together- how touching). You rolled onto your side, sticking an arm out of the burrow of blankets you’d created and turning off the lamp on your night stand, pulling your arm back in as fast as you could to keep any more heat from escaping before settling in for the night.

—

‘Damn, It’s cold out,’ Jason thought for the millionth time tonight, crouching down on the dingy, rusted roof of yet another warehouse- fifth one tonight- watching from the skylight as nothing happened. His helmets night vision didn’t show the slightest hint of movement, not even a fucking rat scampering across the ground. Just like there had been nothing in the last 4 warehouses. At least this one is somewhat familiar- his gaze wandered over to warehouse A-9 for about the hundredth time since they arrived. He knew the night crew was in, only a handful of people occupied a handful of buildings, mostly in the A buildings, where all the important shit was kept- Red Hood and Nightwing, however, were stationed on top of the B-16 building, as instructed.

Rising from a crouch, catching the attention of Nightwing, his knees popped.

“Feeling restless?” He asked.

At first Jason just grunted- obviously- he’s been sitting in one spot for 40 minutes and the hunch that Batman had them working off of seemed to be a dud, but he can’t just leave. He could, Bruce doesn’t control him- but after a few too many dramatic family feuds and attempted (and successful) murders Jason is just really, really fucking tired of constantly arguing and fighting.

He’s “back to being the favorite” Dick had joked a couple times- after he decided that maybe there was some merit to a no-kill-rule, and maybe Tim wasn’t so horrible, the kid’s kinda funny actually, smart as shit too. And Bruce..things were..fine. For the most part. It wasn’t entirely Bruce’s fault- he still held a grudge- the clown lived entirely too long after, but Jason already knew that Bruce had no interest in playing executioner- judge and jury was fine- but he wasn’t going to kill. Jason could understand that, especially after going off the murderous deep end himself- once you start it feels like you can’t stop, like there’s no point in stopping. So sure, he gets why Bruce didn’t- doesn’t make it hurt less though.

“Any word from B?” He mumbled, his voice made robotic and stiff by the modulator in his mask.

Nightwing silently fell back, sitting with his legs crossed, his attention now fully on Jason, “Nothing yet.” he sighed, stretching his arm, a amused grin on his face, “Not trying to jinx it, but I think we finally got a calm night in Gotham, who would of thought-?”

Right on queue, a deafening, blinding explosion went off- about two hundred feet away. Jason barely managed to not be fully knocked off his feet, couching down near his brother, one hand gripping his arm as the aftershock sent strong winds their way- mostly a comfort for Jason, but there was no time to think about that- because what the fuck just exploded and why?!

He glared at his brother through the helmet- and no, Dick couldn’t see it, but he still deserved it.

“See what you did? Now we have to deal with this shit.” Jason said, no real malice in his voice, mostly annoyance that his already long night was about to get even longer.

“Me?” Nightwing gasped.

“Yes, you- stop testing the universe, you know it doesn’t like us.”

The conversation ended there. Jason hopped off the roof, landing in an uncomfortable crouch- ‘My knees were going to be demolished in the morning...’ he thought before heading in the direction of the explosion- hearing Dick following behind him with his near silent landing.

Waking up to a hundred texts and calls was…new. Your friends, people you hadn’t talked to in ages, and most noticeably, your estranged parents. You blinked at the screen as more text rolled in. You decided you weren’t dealing with that. It’s entirely too early. Breaking free of your cover cocoon and rolling out of bed, phone discarded..somewhere in there.

You showered before anything, letting the shower run long enough for the entire bathroom to fill with a heavy fog before stepping in. Taking as much time as you physically could, until your skin was steaming and tinted red from the heat. Not even bothering with a towel as you walked straight back to your room, dressing warmly before flopping back down on your bed. You had a shift today. You used to take night shifts- sleeping through the day like a true night owl. But, in a desperate attempt to regain control over your life after what felt like a never ending downward spiral, you switched to the morning shift.

It was a win-win scenario, really. It paid just as much as the night shift, and you’d have the entire afternoon to yourself, and you would sleep at night, like normal, well adjusted people did.

You had planned on having a serene morning- getting to that box, having a nice well balanced breakfast, then heading to work, but your phone would not stop buzzing. Even under a mound of covers it was distracting as all hell.

“Ok..” You muttered as you dug it out, “What do you want?”

‘Y/n bby if you can see this I love you <3’

‘He’s in a better place now (hell)’

‘PLEASE stop joking like that its stressing me out’

Seems like your friends groupchat, aptly named “Gotham’s prison for whores”, was having quite the morning, hundreds of messages ranging from genuine expressions fear to half hearted jokes.

‘‘Tf are y’all going through???’’ you texted back

A collective group response came instantly.

‘‘He’s alive????’’

‘‘OH THANK FUCK YOUE NOT DEAD’’

“LETSGOOO”

‘‘*you’re’’ you responded without thinking, before fully processing what you’d just read, “why would I be dead??’’

‘‘Dude.’’

You waited for them to continue.

“GHL blew up last night, thought you worked the night shift????’’

Oh.

Ok, so you don’t have a shift today.

“WTF no I switched to the morning shift a couple weeks ago what happened”

“Idk man shit blew up, Nightwing and the red one were out there.”

‘The red one?’ you paused to think of who The Red One was, not even near processing that your job had blown up- wasn’t Robin, he knew that one- and his cape covered most red in his costume anyways. Red Robin, despite his name, his costume was more black than red, and your friend was more likely to call him CondomMan or something, because of his head piece thing.

“Bitch, do you mean Red Hood??”

“IM NOT FROM GOTHAM LEAVE ME ALONE”

Followed by-

“THERES TO MANY OF THEM I CAN NOT REMBER THEM ALL”

You laughed for a second, before remembering that your mother had also texted you and suddenly any joy you felt was sucked away- fuck, why wasn’t she blocked.

“Are you ok?” She asked

“I’m fine.”

Simple, blunt, and definitely not an invitation back into your life. You closed out of her contact and moved onto the mountain of text you still had. How did this many people have your number- how did this many people know where you work- worked, past tense.

After an hour of assuring dozens of practical strangers and distant relatives that you were perfectly fine and no you didn’t need anybody to check on you- you decided to get to the bottom of your sudden popularity. Seriously, none of these people reached out when you got kicked out, or worse, some outright denied you when you asked for help. They weren’t obligated to, but they can’t come around acting like their hearts were absolutely broken and bleeding at your supposed death.

With minimal digging, you figured it out. All you had to do was open any social media your mother had- it’s been, what? 4 hours since she first texted you, and she’s got two dozen posts about you up, with your number and your job posted for the world to see on each one, half of them posted over 5 hours ago, the others posted at random with the latest being only 12 minutes ago.

‘Fuck, this was so her, why the hell would she think this was ok?’

Another way to garner attention and sympathy and now she’s dragging you into it, like sure, you could have been dead, but her text didn’t exactly scream “I’m worried about you”.

You opened your messages with her again,

“Take the posts down, mom. Thanks.”

___

Why was the sun in his face?

Jason made sure the curtains were drawn so he wouldn’t have this problem. Cracking his eyes open he spots his brother- the traitorous bitch- standing by the window, opening the curtains just enough just to peek through. His personal cell phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly to somebody.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go check on him later today Mrs. L/n..”

‘L/n..?’ Jason pushed himself up. ‘Ah, fuck. Please let it just be a god damn coincidence.’

Dick glanced back at Jason, a tired smile flashed across his face. Jason let him stay at his safe house for the night so he wouldn’t have to travel all the way to the manor, or worse, all the way back to Bludhaven. Laying back, Jason continued to listen in to the half of the conversation he could hear.

“No, sorry, of course not- I’ll call him right-” Dick let out a frustrated sigh.

“I will try Mrs. L/n. Right, thanks- bye.”

Despite the nagging feeling he knew exactly who was on the other side of that line, he asked, “Who was that?”

Dick sat on the edge of his bed, another irritated sigh leaving him.

“Remember Y/n?”

Ah, fuck.

“Yeah.” he said, doing his best to give the impression of disinterest and flippant-ness .

“That was his mom- Y/n works over at the GHL Warehouses- well, he used to before last night. His mom wanted to make sure he was ok.”

Jason breathed out- you were fine. He knew you were fine because you don’t work the night shift anymore- when the bomb went off you should have been safely at home, sound asleep, trying to get some rest for your morning shift.

“Is he?” The deception in his voice was blatant this time, his thoughts having drifted to you and away from the mask he had perfected literally a second ago. Dick turned to look at him, a grin splitting across his face. Dick, who was just as much of a detective as the rest of the family, clocked that something was off immediately.

“What?”

“Oh Jason,” He said, all too happy to have been just talking about you potentially getting blown up. “Are you still into him?”

“Get out.” Jason responded, which only made Dick happier.

“You are, aww Baby Bird’s got a little crush-”

“Fuck off, I’m serious.”

Years ago, before his death, Jason had confided in his brother. During a quiet moment in the library of the manor, Jason told Dick that he liked guys, well, one guy, so far. He didn’t know what he was then and doesn't have the energy to label it now, but he does know that at 14 he had a massive crush on a boy his age that he went to school with– which only became a hundred times worse when he actually became friends with said boy. Y/n. You. One of his few attachments outside of his family.

When he came back he didn’t think about you for years, revenge, rage, and violence were the only things on his mind- but when he settled, you popped back into his mind. Just as much of a stalker as the rest of his family, he did some digging on you. It was invasive as hell, as he went through every bit of public (i.e., the stuff that was only slightly illegal to obtain) information about you before asking Barbara for more private(super illegal) information.

Barb- whose closeness to Jason surprised everyone, including themselves (paralleling traumas, they supposed)- was more than willing. Her moral compass was a bit sideways, understandably, but she couldn’t help but “play match-maker” as she had put it. He intentionally ignored that comment from his accomplice.

It’s how he knew about your work schedule, and just about everything else about you- and why he really, really hated your fucking parents.

He was…captivated. It wasn’t love, he didn’t love you. He didn’t even know you anymore.

…

He should check on you, though. Losing your job so suddenly couldn’t have been easy for you. Finding a legal job in Gotham was hard enough as it was- he didn’t want you spiraling, or worse, getting involved with criminals- except for him. He huffed out a short chuckle. He wished you could get involved with him. He was, legally, still very, very dead. And you had no idea he was back. Which he’s somewhat happy for.

He killed…a lot of people, he got his ass handed to him in public by his father, and had lost his shit in PTSD fueled episodes of rage multiple times.

It was better if you stayed as far away from him as possible. Your life was just getting good, you had friends, an apartment of your own, you could probably fuck anyone you wanted- an unsurprising amount of people were into that independent, blue collar thing you had going on- Jason sure as shit wasn’t immune to it. He wouldn’t be mad if you did- you don’t. He has his ways of knowing. (your entire apartment is bugged thanks to Bruce’s almost unfounded paranoia, which was only a bit fair, Jason and Bruce were still on new ground in their… reborn relationship when he broke into your house for the first time, B probably thought he was trying to kill you, which- if it had been any other member of the family- would have been outlandish and entirely unfounded. But it was him, so…yeah, wasn’t really coming out of left field with that one) Which was a surprise, but a relieving one.

Fucking hell, Dick was still looking at him with that stupid smile.

“You’ve got a boyfriend.”

Jason, as he did everytime a conversation steered in a direction he didn’t like, brought up his own death.

“I don’t have anything, Dick, can’t be anything to him if he still thinks I’m dead.”

“..right.”

A moment passed before Dick spoke again, “He’s fine, by the way. Barb sent a list of the confirmed victims earlier. He wasn’t on it.”

___

Fuck Bruce Wayne. No, really. This guy fucking sucked, you hated him and you hated that the only way you’d be keeping your apartment was by signing up for his stupid unemployment program. You’ve reloaded your inbox a dozen times waiting for the confirmation email, after spending hours upon hours reading through fine print and having to dig out your own documents, send proof of unemployment- you’re brand new letter of termination had been emailed to sometime earlier- and digitally signing your signature with your mouse pad and just wading through piles and piles of exhausting corporate bullshit-

You were really sick of this shit, to say the least.

‘It's been five minutes..’ You thought, glaring at your laptop screen.

Trying not to think about how this was literally the only way you’d be keeping your apartment and not go back to living in your car, you reloaded the page again.

And again and again until finally-

“Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Wayne Int…”

You didn’t even need to open the email, the preview told you all you needed to know, a long sigh of relief leaving you as you shut your laptop.

Well, that’s over, now what.

You’ve worked nearly every day since you’ve got this apartment, and when you weren’t working you were either catching up on sleep or, well, that’s it really. Despite planning on “having afternoons to yourself” when you switched schedules, you haven’t actually done anything with those afternoons, cleaning, watching TV, and texting more than anything. Because of course none of your friend schedules aligned for more than a couple minutes a day- usually early in the morning or really late at night.

You breathed in again- looking out the window, you could see the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, mostly hidden by the typical gothic skyscrapers that were found all over Gotham. Another heavy breath, you rolled out of bed, feeling a sudden pang of hunger after neglecting yourself all day.

You didn’t bother taking your phone with you, even though your mother had pretty much announced to her loyal 1,267 followers that you were okay, you were still getting text and calls at random- you needed to take your mind off of all of this for at least a moment, cooking and then maybe a long, long sleep could help. You did a mental coin toss on what to eat, burger or pasta- either would do, really- conjuring up a slow, dramatic coin toss in your head, letting your subconscious decide.

Heads. Pasta it is.

Rummaging through your cabinet until you pulled out the little pot you were looking for, perfect for a single serving. Filling it with water from the sink- completely forgetting for a moment that this was Gotham and you probably should have checked to see if it had been poisoned or tampered with- it was such a common occurrence that there was a whole app for it…Created and funded by Bruce Wayne of course. You sighed for about the millionth time today. That fucking jerk has his hands in everything- can’t even be in your own home without running into the motherfucker.

You huffed, it’d be fine. If there was something wrong with the water you would have seen it on the news.

Putting the pot on the stove, repeatedly turning the knob until the fire lit. Putting a bit of salt in the water as it heated- staring into the pot for who knows how long as bubbles started to form. Thinking about things hurt right now. You lost half of your co-workers, your income, the first thing you felt you earned on your own, and on top of that you had to indirectly beg a man you couldn’t stand for money. It would only get worse from here. That was guaranteed- but you couldn’t spiral- because that would only make things so, so much worse. So, you’d face whatever the next couple of weeks brought with maturity and strength and when it was all over things would be semi-normal.

Hopefully.

You moved to the cabinet and pulled out a half empty box of bowtie style noodles and dumped them into the boiling water- then moved over to the fridge to see if you had any jarred sauce.

___

Barbara was just about the only person Jason actively texted- he didn’t need casual conversation with anybody else, not yet anyways. Roy maybe could have been the exception, but Roy barely responded, Jason doubted he even kept his phone on him.

Leaving his bike in the alley before scaling your building- resting on the roof for a short moment as he texted Barbara.

“Think you can keep B out?”

She didn’t respond instantly, but when she did,

“You know he’s still home, right?”

‘Obviously, Barb’ he thought as he typed out a response

“I’m just checking on him.”

Then,

“He won’t see me.”

“You’re getting bold, thinking of saying ‘hi’ soon?”

No, definitely not. That would be a horrible idea. It would blow up in his face and he’d not only freak you the fuck out but would piss off his entire family (excluding Barbara, and maybe Dick- now that he’s thinking about it Tim would probably have been a good accomplice too- no, he’s not forming a little stalker crew, not gonna happen). It was, definitively, a terrible idea. Even if the infinitesimally small chance that you wouldn’t lose your shit and he was able to have any semblance of a relationship with you was calling his name like no other, he wasn’t going to take that risk. Stalking you- no, watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner, would be all he did- and an occasional breaking and entering. But that was all.

“No” he finally responded.

She sent a sad face emoji back, then a middle finger, then,

“You’ve got 5 minutes.”

That jolted him into action, the sun quickly setting over Gotham as he crossed the building. He’s done this enough times to know just how to get through your window. Using a rope to scale down to the 4th floor windows- stopping right next to yours, closed, but unlocked for once. Good, he wasn’t looking forward to picking the lock.

As quietly as he could, he pushed your window open, cursing at the small creek it made about halfway up. Slipping inside, landing silently on his toes, pausing before pressing forward. Pressed against the wall of your nearly pitch black room, your bedroom door cracked open he could see the yellow-ish light emitting from outside it, he could hear you shuffling around out there, the faucet running for a second, and the ticking of the gas stove as you turned it on and off and on again. You were fine, you were up and active, cooking, not sulking. You were fine.

Mission complete.

Time to go..

He heard you open the fridge, let out a small sigh before closing it.

He leaned closer to the door, peaking through the small opening- your apartment small enough for him to see everything from his place in your room, including you standing in the kitchen standing over a boiling pot of whatever it was you were cooking. Ok, seriously, you were ok, he needs to go- he’s already been here for too long- he’s sure his time is up. You were fine, you are fine.

“Fuck, ow-” You muttered to yourself, barely audible in the already near silent apartment.

He pressed forward again, taking a step, then another, until he was standing just behind the door- half hidden in the dark room, illuminated by the kitchen light.

—--

‘Stupid fucking cheap pot, why the fuck is the handle so hot?’ You thought as you checked your hand for any actual burns. You were fine, but dammit that hurt- first thing you’d when you got a new job, buy better pots and pans- ones that didn’t scorch your hands when you touched the handle. Turning around to face the sink, and run some cold water over your flushed hand-

What the fuck was that.

You paused at the sink. As you turned, you caught a glimpse of something…red. Just barely illuminated, standing in your bedroom.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, a feeling of impending doom washes over you as you turn to stare at whatever it is you just saw. Red and shiny, with stark white eyes- the rest of whatever the hell it was is hidden by the darkness of your bedroom and the door.

A part of you wants to run- out of the apartment and into the street, scream for help at the top of your lungs until either whatever it was caught you, or one of many vigilantes showed up. Unfortunately, you lived in the absolute shit hole that was Gotham- so you were more likely to be an unsolved case than actually get saved. You really, really didn’t want to join the billion of unsolved cases already plaguing Gotham- you had so much more life to live, and shit was just getting good, well- not really but you still didn’t want to fucking die. Shit still could get good in the future! As long as you don’t get murdered tonight.

‘Ok, time to think rationally,’ You thought, eyes still locked on the whatever-the-fuck-it-is standing in the doorway, ‘I’m not dead yet, so maybe it doesn’t want to kill me, maybe it’s..I don’t know, trying to rob me or something.’

Robbed was probably the best possibility, considering all the other things that it could be.

“I do not have any money, I’m poor as fuck I swear, can you please leave?” You tried.

You nearly tripped over your own feet, clambering backwards as the thing moved forward, stepping into the light and-

…

…Somebody is fucking with you, you almost immediately decide as your brain finally processes what you had been seeing this entire time. Fucking Red Hood. Every bit of fear is replaced with frustration and annoyance.

Taking a deep breath, you put your hands over your face, letting out a groan that quickly turns into a small, muffled scream.

Why? Why you? Huh? This is the second vigilante home intrusion you’ve experienced. You weren’t afraid of vigilantes, you had no reason to be- you aren’t a criminal and unlike certain organizations, they actually protect the innocent and whatnot. So, for you at the very least, seeing them was less of a terrifying experience than it was a wonder to behold…as long as they’re not in your fucking house. You just wanted to eat dinner. You just wanted to eat dinner and go to bed and then watch stupid 2000’s shows in the morning. But no Red Hood is in your house, and now your whole night is interrupted and you’re stressed and irritated and you really want to throw the nearest thing at him- but that’s rude and he might actually be here for a reason so you should really get out of your own head and hear him out.

You bring your hands down to your side, take a deep breath, and stare right into the eyes of his helmet.

“What do you want?”

—--

Jason has a very inappropriate answer to that question- he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t even give himself the chance to fully think it. But he does need to find an appropriate answer as to why he was in your house.

“You work at GHL?” He asked, his voice unwavering.

You rolled your eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck in the back of your skull. Fuck, you’ve always had a bad attitude, he hasn’t seen it up close in years. He hasn’t seen you this close in years either. During his…other illegal excursions in your house, he always kept a respectful distance from you, mostly out of fear of waking you up, but also because standing over you while you were asleep just felt…wrong.

You groaned, crossing your arms as your glare set on him.

“Yes, I worked at GHL before it blew up, no, I don’t have anything to do with the explosion, I was here all night, there are cameras in the halls, feel free to check them if you think I'm lying. Is there anything else or can you go now?”

Fuck- uh.

“No.” He said, before he could even come up with a reason why.

“‘No’?!” You were, reasonably, upset by this, “Why the hell not?”

‘Good question,’ he thought.

“I know-” Jason started without actually knowing what he wanted to say, his voice modulator making him sound a lot more sure of his words than he actually was, “-you’ve been very..vocal about your disapproval of the police in Gotham, they were temporarily holding a shipment of weapons and ammo there.”

Accusing you of being a criminal maybe wasn’t the best option, definitely wouldn’t get him into your good graces, but it was believable- his preexisting knowledge of you made it just that much easier, even if you look offended by the accusation.

“So what, you’re stalking me?”

You don’t even know the half of it..

“Investigating you.” He responded sternly.

You nodded, so clearly on the verge of losing your shit, “Right, right, ‘investigating’. I don’t care what you call it, I already told you I wasn’t involved in whatever happened so can you please-”

A sudden, blaring alarm shocked both you and Jason. You stormed back into the kitchen a pot of what was previously edible pasta sauce having been reduced to a soldering, smoking mess. Frustrated mumbling filled the space, you groaned and growled as you grabbed the pot handle with a towel and damn near threw it into the sink, turning on the faucet and letting it run. You turned to him, thoroughly pissed off at this point, so many thoughts and words festering in your mind- probably vulgar and violent- but you said nothing, clenching your fist at him and staring at his mask with an nearly dazed but somehow still enraged expression before turning to handle the fire alarm. Using a towel to fan smoke away from it until it stopped beeping.

Then, you sat on the floor, facing away from him. Breathing deeply, rocking slightly. Jason just stared, there wasn’t much else he could do-

He heard you sigh, the tension in your shoulder reducing until you were slightly hunched over.

“You owe me dinner.” You said, calmly.

Jason blinked behind his mask- that’s it? You were over it? Just like that?

He halfway expected to be yelled at, hell, he’s surprised you didn’t throw the pot at him. But the ability to just calm down wasn’t something that came easily, if at all to Jason.

“I can do that.”

You sighed again, pushing yourself up off the floor. Turning to him, you face tired and your eyes dark- he knows he just made an already hard day even harder for you, he knows the guilt is going to crush him later, too.

“I know you’re just doing your job and all but you’re kinda a jerk, you know that, right?” Your tone was flat and dim, “Look, I don’t know anything about what happened. I’m just…really fucking tired now so can you just go?”

I know

“I believe you.”

You sighed, “Good, I’m going to bed now, good night.”

He watched as you walked past him, your shoulder bumping him and he tried to ignore how his heart clenched at even the briefest touch from you.

“Oh, and-” you glanced over your shoulder at him, “-if you’re going to come back, use the door.”

You didn’t give him time to respond, closing the bedroom door behind you.

He stood in your apartment alone, a minute passes, and then another as he attempts to process what had just happened and just how fucked he was when Bruce inevitably found out. But…

A small smile crept on his face, could have been a lot worse, you don’t hate him, hell, you invited him to come back in a way. Bruce might scream his head off at him and he’d likely be placed under some kind of suspension and heavily monitored for the foreseeable future. But none of that mattered right now, because he’s seen you, he’s talked to you, and suddenly he has a goal.

—-

Last night felt like a fever dream, but you could tell it was real. Early in the morning, when the sun was just barely peeking through your window, there was a knock on your door- your bedroom door. You should have been freaked out by it, but you had a sneaking suspicion that a familiar red jerk was on the other side. Stretching and yawning before getting up, your body was more tired than you realized, feeling heavy and anchored as you dragged your feet to the door. When you opened it, there was nobody there, but a little white paper bag sat on the floor just outside. You looked around, the living room and the kitchen were both empty and the big red jerk was nowhere to be seen.

Taking the bag in your hands, the familiar logo of the 24 hour cafe down the street plastered on it, as well as a note. Taped to the bag, a torn square of paper read,

“Not dinner, but I figured this was close enough.

And I used the door this time. You’re welcome.

-R.H”

And for some stupid, unfortunate reason, you found it charming.

“Fucking stalker..” you muttered, fighting a smile as walked back to your bed with the bag.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x male!reader #male!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x male reader #red hood x male!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader

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heartsriki · 21 hours ago

Text

CANDY HEARTS ⌇마음

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇Sim Jaeyun | Next

pairing ᝰ jake x fem!reader | word count: 4.0k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ co-workers to lovers, fluff, kissing, light teasing, semi-oblivious reader.

synopsis — You and Jake are co-workers at a candy shop. You are content by just doing your job, until someone leaves little candy hearts with cheesy, cryptic messages for you every shift. At first, You think it’s just a quirky joke—until the messages start feeling a little too personal, and you begin to wonder if this is more than just fun and games.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys this might be my favorite fic Ive written.. may this love find me (PLEASEUHH)

The first time it happened, you didn’t think much of it.

It was a slow afternoon at Sugar Rush, the tiny candy shop where you worked part-time. The scent of warm caramel and melted chocolate clung to the air, mixing with the faint tartness of fruit gummies from the bins near the register. You were restocking a jar of cinnamon drops when you noticed a small candy heart sitting beside the cash register, pastel pink with tiny white letters stamped across it.

You Make Me Melt.

You assumed it had fallen out of a bag, maybe left behind by a customer. It wasn’t unusual for people to sneak a piece or two while browsing, even though there were very clear “NO SAMPLES” signs posted all over the place. With a shrug, you popped it into your pocket and moved on.

The second time, you started to wonder.

This time, the candy heart was perched on the tip jar, wedged between a crumpled dollar bill and some loose quarters. It was green, a little faded, and read: You’re My Favorite Treat.

You frowned, glancing around the shop. Jake was a few feet away, lazily refilling a bin of sour belts. He had a bad habit of getting distracted, usually by sneaking a few pieces for himself, but at the moment, he seemed content just swaying along to the pop song playing through the store’s speakers.

“Hey, Jake,” you called, holding up the tiny candy. “Did you leave this here?”

He turned, eyebrows raised, then took a few steps closer, peering at the candy heart in your palm. “Hmm,” he hummed, lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. “Looks like someone’s got a secret admirer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Because nothing screams romance like mass-produced sugar with weird messages on them.”

Jake grinned. “Hey, don’t underestimate the power of candy. Love and sugar go hand in hand.”

You huffed, but didn’t push further. Maybe someone really had left it there by accident. Or maybe Jake was just messing with you—he was the type to do something like that just to see how long it would take you to notice. Either way, you tossed the heart aside and got back to work.

But then it kept happening.

Every shift, without fail, another candy heart would appear. Sometimes on the register, sometimes on the shelf beside the fudge display, once even in your apron pocket. They were never the generic ‘Be Mine’ messages. No, these were different. More… personal and sometimes they even came with notes.

Bet You Think This is a Coincidence.

You hum when you count the register, did you notice that?

Your nose scrunches when you’re trying not to laugh.

I like the way you say my name.

That last one made you stop.

You turned the tiny candy over between your fingers, a slow warmth creeping up your neck. This wasn’t just a random joke anymore. Whoever was leaving these wasn’t playing around.

the message was staring back at you like it was waiting for you to put the pieces together. But you didn’t. It was just a dumb piece of candy, right? A quirky prank, maybe. Nothing more.

Still, the words lingered longer than you wanted them to.

Shaking it off, you shoved the candy into your apron pocket and turned your attention back to the shelves. The display of chocolate truffles had gotten messy again—probably thanks to the group of kids who’d come in earlier, pressing their sticky fingers against the glass case while begging their parents for more sweets. You crouched down, carefully rearranging the rows, making sure each piece was perfectly aligned.

From behind you, Jake’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the shop.

“You know, you’re really dedicated to those chocolates.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t turn around. “Well, considering I work here, yeah. Kind of comes with the job.”

Jake chuckled. “Sure, but I’ve never seen someone so passionate about symmetry. It’s almost impressive.”

You heard the sound of a stool scraping against the floor and knew without looking that he’d made himself comfortable on the other side of the counter. He had a habit of doing that—watching you work instead of doing his own tasks. Not that he was lazy. If anything, Jake was weirdly good at his job when he actually put in the effort. But more often than not, he liked to hover, cracking jokes and tossing gummy bears in the air like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of stocking the licorice again,” you muttered.

“Maybe.” His tone was light, teasing. “Or maybe I just enjoy watching you concentrate so hard. It’s like… adorable but also kind of terrifying.”

You scoffed and finally turned to look at him. He was perched on the stool, elbow resting against the counter, his fingers idly spinning a wrapped caramel. His brown eyes glinted with amusement, but there was something else there too—something unreadable.

For half a second, you wondered—

No.

No, this was Jake. The same guy who once spent an entire shift trying to convince you that the gummy worms were alive. The same guy who had gotten his hand stuck in a taffy machine and acted like it was the funniest thing in the world. The same guy who—

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “I’m not.”

Jake smirked. “Pretty handsome, right?”

“Shut up.” You huffed and turned back to your chocolates, determined to ignore him. “Go do your job, Jake.”

“Yes, boss,” he said, and you could hear the laughter in his voice.

As you straightened up, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye—a tiny, heart-shaped candy resting near the caramel display, just barely visible behind a stack of boxes. A fresh one.

You swallowed, glancing toward Jake, who was now whistling as he walked toward the licorice section.

You shook your head. No way.

It was probably just a coincidence.

The rest of the shift passed in a comfortable rhythm—restocking shelves, ringing up customers, and trying not to get roped into one of Jake’s ridiculous debates (this time, he was insisting that caramel was superior to chocolate.).

But by the time the evening rush hit, you were starting to feel it. The weight of the long day pressed into your shoulders, your feet aching from standing too long. You weren’t about to complain, though. It wasn’t like working there was particularly difficult—just repetitive.

Jake, on the other hand, seemed as energetic as ever. He practically bounced between tasks, chatting with customers, sneaking pieces of candy when he thought you weren’t looking, and somehow still managing to keep things running smoothly. It was unfair, really, how effortless he made everything seem.

You were wiping down the counter when a little girl, maybe six or seven, shyly approached the register, clutching a bag of chocolate coins. She barely reached over the counter, her curly pigtails bobbing as she peeked up at you with wide eyes.

“Hi there,” you greeted, offering her a small smile. “Is this everything for you?”

She nodded, then hesitated. “Um… I don’t think I have enough money.”

You glanced at the bag in her hands and then at the crumpled bills she carefully pulled from her pocket. She was short by at least a dollar.

Before you could say anything, Jake swooped in, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, crouching down slightly to her level. “You know what? Today’s your lucky day. We’ve got a special deal going on.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “A deal?”

Jake nodded solemnly. “Yep. It’s called the ‘Awesome Kid Discount.’” He plucked the bag from her hands, scanned it, and subtly covered the difference with a few coins from his own pocket. “And guess what? You totally qualify.”

Her face broke into the biggest grin. “Really?”

“Really,” Jake confirmed, handing her the bag. “But you gotta promise me one thing.”

She leaned in, waiting eagerly.

“Make sure you enjoy every single piece, okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I will! Thank you, mister!”

Jake grinned as she ran off toward her waiting parents, practically bouncing with excitement. When he straightened, he caught you staring.

“What?” he asked, flashing that boyish smirk of his.

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “That was… really sweet of you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing, reaching for the spray bottle to wipe down the counter. “Eh, it’s just a couple of coins. Besides, how could I say no to that face?”

You didn’t respond right away. It wasn’t about the money, and you both knew it. Jake had a way of making people feel special, like they mattered. Whether it was an old customer who’d been coming in for years or a little kid with a few crumpled dollars, he always made time for them.

You turned back to the register, but your stomach felt strangely warm.

It was probably just the sugar in the air.

Right?

By the time the shop started winding down for the night, you were exhausted. There was still closing work to do—mopping the floors, refilling displays, making sure the candy bins were sealed properly—but just thinking about it made your muscles ache.

Jake must have noticed because the moment you sighed, he grabbed the mop from the back closet and waved you off.

“Go sit,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “I got this.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He jerked his chin toward the counter. “Seriously. Go. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

You frowned. “So have you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t complain about it,” he teased.

“I wasn’t—”

He raised a brow, daring you to argue.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Fine. But just for a minute.”

Jake smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and got to work. And as much as you wanted to be stubborn, you had to admit—it was kind of nice, watching him take over without question, moving easily through the store like he belonged there. Like he was looking out for you.

You wouldn’t think too much about that, though.

You were just tired. That was all.

You walked into the store to find Jake already behind the counter, spinning a lollipop between his fingers like he had nothing better to do. The bell above the door chimed as you stepped inside, and he glanced up, his face lighting up like it always did when he saw you.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the counter. “I thought you called out.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your bag into the back room before tying your apron around your waist. “You act like I’m late.”

“No, but you are predictable. Same routine, same time, same sigh when you walk through that door.”

You blinked at him. “I don’t sigh.”

“You do sigh,” Jake insisted, leaning against the counter. “It’s like a little huff, right before you clock in. Like you’re mentally preparing yourself for another day of dealing with me.”

You snorted. “I am mentally preparing myself for that.”

Jake clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. It was always like this with Jake—teasing, effortless, like the two of you had been friends forever instead of just co-workers.

As you stepped behind the counter, something caught your eye. Right beside the register, nestled between a stack of receipt paper and a jar of lollipops, sat another tiny candy heart.

You froze.

It was pale yellow this time, stamped with the words: Did You Miss Me?

Your fingers twitched at your side.

It had been a couple of days since the last one. You’d almost forgotten about them, chalking it up to some random prank or a coincidence you didn’t care enough to figure out. But now, seeing another one sitting there so blatantly—like it had been waiting for you—you couldn’t ignore it.

Jake’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You okay?”

You glanced up to find him watching you, head tilted, curiosity flickering in his warm brown eyes.

You quickly scooped up the candy heart, rolling it between your fingers. “Yeah, just… found another one of these.”

Jake’s gaze flickered to the tiny candy in your palm, then back up to your face. His lips twitched, but he said nothing.

You sighed. “Are you sure you don’t know where these are coming from?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe you do have a secret admirer.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Jake leaned in slightly, resting his elbows on the counter. “What? You don’t think someone could have a little crush on you?”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it. His tone was teasing, but there was something else behind it—something softer, something unreadable.

You swallowed, glancing back down at the candy heart.

If this was some secret admirer situation… why did it feel like Jake was the only person who could possibly be behind it?

The shift passed in a blur of ringing up customers, restocking shelves, and dodging Jake’s ridiculous antics. But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to that tiny candy heart still sitting in your apron pocket.

Jake had definitely been smirking when you asked about it. And the way he said secret admirer? That lingering tone, the way his eyes stayed on you a beat too long—it was messing with your head.

But this was Jake. Your annoying, playful, way-too-charming-for-his-own-good co-worker. He flirted with everyone. Right?

So why did it feel different when it was you?

You were restocking a shelf of assorted chocolate bars when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn, Jake reached over your shoulder, grabbing a candy bar from the top shelf. His arm brushed yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back.

“Need help?” His voice was low, teasing, way too close to your ear.

You tensed. “I’m literally already doing it.”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d make myself useful.”

You glanced over your shoulder—big mistake. He was close, leaning in just enough that you could see the faint dimple in his cheek, the warm brown of his eyes focused solely on you.

Your stomach flipped.

He was definitely messing with you.

You huffed, grabbing the candy bar from his hand and shoving it back on the shelf. “If you’re so desperate to be useful, go clean up the display case.”

Jake chuckled but stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

The worst part? He wasn’t even really flirting. At least, not in a way that would make it obvious. He was just being Jake—close, playful, always toeing the line between teasing and something else.

Your first mistake was answering Jake’s messages.

Your second mistake was letting him talk you into whatever this was.

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” you grumbled as you trudged alongside him down the sidewalk.

Jake stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, a lazy grin on his face. “It’s simple. I called, you answered, I suggested we hang out, and boom—here we are.”

“You ambushed me.”

He scoffed. “Ambushed? No. Strategically intercepted? Maybe.”

You shot him a look. He had definitely intercepted you. One minute, you were leaving the bookstore with a new novel tucked under your arm, and the next, Jake appeared out of nowhere, falling into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He had gasped dramatically upon seeing you. “Fancy running into you here. What a coincidence! What are the odds?”

(Zero. The odds were zero. He had texted earlier asking what you were doing, and like a fool, you told him.)

Now, you were headed toward some vague destination he refused to tell you about, half-annoyed, half… intrigued.

“Seriously, where are we going?” you asked as you dodged a crack in the pavement.

Jake grinned. “You’ll see.”

Not long after, you arrived at a small, tucked-away arcade nestled between two larger buildings. The neon sign flickered slightly, and through the glass doors, you could see rows of game machines blinking with colorful lights.

You raised a brow. “An arcade?”

Jake shrugged. “Figured we could use a break from all the sophisticated, mature work we do at the candy shop.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, stacking chocolate bars is so top notch.”

He laughed, holding the door open for you. “C’mon, humor me.”

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia—the hum of machines, the occasional chime of a jackpot, the sound of kids groaning in defeat.

Jake immediately made a beeline for the change machine, exchanging a few bills for a handful of tokens. He tossed one in your direction.

“You are playing,” he said before you could protest.

You sighed but pocketed the token. “Fine. But I’m picking the game.”

Jake smirked. “Deal.”

It turned out, you were ridiculously good at air hockey.

Jake, however, refused to take his losses with grace.

“No way,” he said as you sent the puck flying past him for the fifth time in a row. “You’re cheating.”

You smirked, resting your mallet on the table. “I’m winning.”

He pointed at you. “Same thing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe you’re just bad at this.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Okay, you know what? New challenge.”

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the claw machines.

You stumbled slightly at the sudden contact, your pulse skipping for reasons you refused to acknowledge. “What—”

“You think you’re good? Let’s see you win something from here.”

You scoffed. “Oh, this is how you’re gonna redeem yourself? A game literally designed to scam people?”

Jake grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

With a sigh, you stepped up to the machine. The glass case was filled with plushies, some cuter than others. One in particular caught your eye—a small, stuffed bear with a red bow.

You fed a token into the slot, gripping the joystick. Jake leaned in closer, watching intently.

“Alright,” he murmured. “No pressure.”

His shoulder brushed yours, the warmth of him distracting in a way that should not have mattered. You tried to ignore it, focusing on maneuvering the claw just right.

You pressed the button, holding your breath as the claw descended… grabbed… lifted…

And dropped the bear at the last second.

You groaned. “I hate this game.”

Jake laughed. “Alright, alright. Move aside, rookie.”

You stepped back, crossing your arms as he took his turn. He was all confidence, cracking his knuckles like this was some grand mission. You watched as he carefully maneuvered the claw, his brows furrowed in concentration.

He pressed the button. The claw dropped, grabbed the bear…

And actually held onto it.

Your jaw dropped. “No way.”

Jake turned to you, smug. “See? Just takes skill.”

You rolled your eyes. “Or dumb luck.”

Ignoring you, he retrieved the plushie and—without hesitation—pressed it into your hands.

Your fingers curled around the soft fabric. “What…?”

Jake stuffed his hands back into his pockets, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “You wanted it, right?”

Your heart stuttered.

It was such a simple thing, really. Just a stuffed bear. Just a silly arcade game.

But the way he had given it to you—so casual, so Jake—made something warm settle in your chest.

You swallowed. “Thanks.”

Jake shot you a lopsided grin, the tension slipping away. “Don’t mention it.”

An hour later, after too many games and way too much laughter, you found yourself sitting on the curb outside, sipping a milkshake while Jake scrolled through his phone beside you.

“This was fun,” you admitted, surprising even yourself.

Jake glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He smirked. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get a big head about it.”

Jake chuckled, then took a long sip of his drink. After a moment, he said, “So… if this was a date—”

“It wasn’t.”

“—but if it was,” he continued, ignoring you, “would it have been a good one?”

You hesitated, then glanced at the stuffed bear still tucked under your arm.

You exhaled, tilting your head at him. “Maybe.”

Jake grinned. “I’ll take it.”

The next shift started like any other—except now, you couldn’t unsee it.

The teasing, the little moments that lingered just a second too long, the way Jake always seemed to be watching you with some kind of quiet amusement.

And, of course, the candy hearts.

You found one waiting for you by the register as soon as you clocked in. Soft pink, with the words:

You Think About Me, Don’t You?

Your stomach flipped.

It was getting harder to ignore the truth.

The candy hearts weren’t random. They weren’t some inside joke or coincidence.

They were from Jake.

And you were pretty sure he wanted you to figure it out.

Halfway through your shift, you decided you were going to catch him in the act.

For weeks, he had been slipping those candy hearts into your space without you noticing. That meant he had to be sneaky—waiting until you were distracted, picking moments when your back was turned.

So, you planned accordingly.

You made yourself look busy, stacking lollipops near the front, organizing shelves that were already perfectly fine. But out of the corner of your eye, you watched him.

And sure enough, after about fifteen minutes, he made his move.

You saw it happen in real time—Jake, casually leaning against the counter, fiddling with a bag of chocolates while you pretended not to notice. Then, when he thought you weren’t looking, he reached into his pocket and slipped a tiny candy heart onto the counter beside your register.

Gotcha.

You whirled around just as he was about to step away. “You!”

Jake froze mid-step. “Me?”

You pointed at the candy heart. “You.”

He glanced at the heart on the counter, then back at you, face unreadable. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, really? So that just magically appeared out of nowhere?”

Jake shrugged, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Maybe the candy shop is haunted.”

You snorted. “Yeah, haunted by you.”

Jake grinned, but there was something different about it this time—something softer. “Alright, fine. You caught me.”

Your breath hitched slightly. Even though you had known, hearing him admit it sent a strange, fluttery feeling through your chest.

“So… all this time?” you asked, voice quieter.

Jake nodded. “All this time.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He held your gaze, something unreadable in his eyes. “What do you think?”

You didn’t have an answer. Or maybe you did, but saying it out loud felt like too much.

Jake must have sensed it, because instead of pushing, he reached into his pocket again and pulled out another candy heart.

He held it up between two fingers, letting you read the words stamped across the surface.

Kiss Me.

The air between you changed.

Jake meant it as a joke—probably. His smirk was still there, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his breathing slowed just a fraction.

He wasn’t expecting you to take him seriously.

Which is exactly why you did.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, grabbed the front of his apron, and pressed your lips against his.

Jake made a startled noise against your mouth—like he hadn’t actually thought this far ahead—but then he melted into it, his hands instinctively finding your waist.

It was sweet, a little clumsy, the faint taste of sugar lingering between you.

When you finally pulled away, Jake just… stared at you.

Completely caught off guard. Completely flustered.

You had never seen him speechless before. It was kind of amazing.

Finally, after a long moment, he blinked.

“…So, uh,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “You did get the message.”

You smirked. “Took me long enough.”

Jake exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You just kissed me in the middle of our shift.”

“You literally asked me to.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You shrugged, turning back to the register like your heart wasn’t racing. “Well, maybe next time, don’t challenge me.”

Jake just watched you, a dazed smile on his face.

“…Next time, huh?”

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#Ꮺ 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 #enhypen x reader #sim jake x reader #jake sim x reader #jake enhypen #enhypen sim jake #enhypen jake #jake x reader #jake sim #enhypen fluff #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #fanfic #fluff fic

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walkingstackofbooks · 3 days ago

Text

IPS/BIL AU where Tain dies before he can send the message. Garak and Worf never go to the gamma quadrant. Julian and Martok don't get rescued.

Back on DS9 the changeling is stopped pretty much just as it was in canon, with Kira and Dax managing to stop the Yukon from reaching the sun, just as it explodes. (Maybe since Garak is still on the station, he notifies Sisko that Bashir has taken the Yukon out?) This time, however, no-one knows it was a changeling, and among all the shock and grief, there's tense speculation about what the hell Julian was doing out there in a runabout with a bomb.

The changeling had planned to never be identified, believing it would sow more confusion and fear in the Federation if they believe one of their own had been secretly allied with the Dominion. And so the changeling had left behind a trail of "Julian" interacting with highly questionable locked-down message-boards such as "Would enhanced individuals be better off under the Dominion?", which would never have been tracked back to him apart from under such scrutiny he's now post-humously receiving. (The changeling knew about Julian's enhancements - to become something is to understand that thing, after all.)

Of course, it is considered whether Julian may have been impersonated by a changeling, but once the link to his enhancements has been revealed - and his parents can't hide it, they confess, and are sentenced to time in a penal colony - it seems very much decided that Doctor Bashir had become an augment extremist, biding his time on DS9 until he could play out his part in the Dominion plot. There's varying levels of acceptance of this among Julian's friends - even if it seems that they have to admit it, it's still almost impossible to believe that Julian could have tried to do that. But it doesn't really matter what they think - life has to go on, and the war's continuing whether they like it or not, and little by little they move on with their now-Julian-less lives.

Time passes. they get a new CMO. The Cardassians re-occupy the station, and Sisko leads the campaign to get it back. Worf and Jadzia get married. Garak gets a message.

A.L.I.V.E. J.S.B.

And no-one knows what to think. JSB can't be... can it? But how...

Garak argues that Doctor Bashir's death is so well-known that no-one would use his name as the basis for some sort of trap. Miles agrees. Everyone else wants to agree. (For a certain definition of 'want'. Julian being alive, not a traitor... that also means he's been doing somewhere in the past ten months, and it's difficult to think about what sort of awful place that might have been.)

Garak and Worf are sent out to chase this signal - in theory, it's recon, but naturally it quickly devolves. They get captured themsleves, finding Camp 371 and Julian, looking ten months worse for wear. Garak learns about Tain's death, and the subspace transmitter he'd began working on and that they'd only just been able to finish, having managed to recruit a recently-abducted Starfleet engineer. An engineer who's currently in solitary, leaving them with a plan to escape now there's a runabout in orbit, but no way to effect it. Unless there's something Garak can do...

And Worf, of course, meets Martok, and is impressed by the Klingon's tale of daily fights for nearly three years. "Almost every day," Martok corrects him. "There have been times when I've woken up with a sore head to find that the doctor has taken my place."

Worf looks to Julian, nodding. "So you are the man we remember," he says. "Your enhancements may have helped you fight, but it was an honourable thing to volunteer."

"My... my enhancements?" asks Julian faintly. "What- what do you mean?"

"Commander, is now really the time—" Garak tries to interrupt but Julian speaks over him.

"No, Garak, I want to know— I-I need to know. What do you mean, Worf?"

And Worf, in his short, succinct way tells Julian how they had believed he had died, and what they had discovered thereafter, and while they know now that he is not an augment extremist, his parents' confession made it clear that he is an augment.

Julian doesn't say very much after that, apart from what is needed to help with the rescue - he calms Garak down, he volunteers to try and figure out what needs doing in the crawl space ("I've learnt at least a few things from tinkering with it over those seven months...") - but otherwise, he's withdrawn and spacey. Garak perserveres - he must get Julian back to DS9, has to hope there's still time to rekindle that light in his doctor's eyes - and manages to get them out, and even locking onto the engineer's life sign in solitary. They make it to the runabout, and escape.

It's a very different sort of homecoming. This time, rather than having only a few hours to get used to the idea that Julian had been missing for a month, they've been mourning him for almost a year, angry and confused and left with so many questions. And they've had almost a week of wondering what's become of Worf and Garak, and to tie themselves in circles wondering if J.S.B really could be Julian Subatoi Bashir.

Garak gets them all beamed directly to sickbay, and it's obvious that Julian's overwhelmed enough by that without having hordes of emotional friends come to greet him. So they're allowed in, one at a time. Miles petitions to be first, and wraps Julian up in what would have been the firmest of hugs - apart from Julian's so gaunt, so... fragile, that Miles find he dare not squeeze too hard. Words gush out - ones that he'd never have thought he'd admit out loud - about how much he missed Julian and how glad he is none of what they said was true, and it takes him some time to realise that he's been blabbering on and Julian's not been saying a word.

Julian has been clinging onto him tightly, though, and that... that's got to be enough, for now.

#Ughhhh endingsssss #I'm sorry that's the best I've got #The trouble with making things ten times worse for Julian is you get to the point where he just kind of ... breaks #And I have trouble imagining the very long road to recovery he'd surely need after this...#(Though if I was writing this properly I think I'd go with a long period of being involuntarily non-verbal)#(followed by some accidental age-regression when spending time with Keiko and Miles and Molly and Yoshi)#(where kind of becomes fixated on one of Yoshi's toys left on the floor and the part of him that longs for escape just takes over)#(idk)#anyway hi i'm back on my bullshit!#julian bashir #julian au concepts #andi writes #my trek musings #wsb #i should be in bedddd 😅😅😅#please like this it took me way too long to write XD #sorry i didn't properly cover the garak but it just didn't turn out that way

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bitchinbarzal · 3 days ago

Text

Operation mom & dad | M Boldy

summary: jade is determined to get her mom and dad back together.

The roar of the crowd echoes through the Xcel as Matt takes the ice, his number bold on the back of his jersey. You watch from the stands, Jade perched on your lap, her tiny hands clapping wildly.

“Daddy’s the best, right, Mommy?” she asks, turning her bright green eyes up at you.

You smile, ruffling her soft brown curls. “Of course he is, baby.”

It’s always been like this. You and Matt—co-parenting effortlessly, supporting each other despite the past. Your friends tease that you’re just pretending to be broken up, that no exes should get along this well. But the truth is, you and Matt have a rhythm. A history. A love that never really faded, even if things didn’t work out the way you once planned.

But if there’s one person determined to change that, it’s your daughter.

Attempt #1: The Forgotten Jacket

It starts small. Too small to suspect anything at first.

One night, after dropping Jade off at Matt’s place, you get a call just as you’re pulling into your driveway.

“Mommy!” Jade’s voice is serious, like she’s on an important mission. “You forgot your jacket at Daddy’s!”

Your brows knit together. “Are you sure? I don’t think I—”

“You did,” she insists. “You have to come back. Right now.”

With a chuckle, you turn around and drive back. When you get there, Matt is standing in the doorway, holding his hoodie.

“She meant this,” he says, amused. “Pretty sure this has been in my closet since before she was born.”

Jade beams between you, looking way too proud of herself.

“You should keep it, Mommy,” she chirps. “It smells like Daddy.”

Your face heats, and Matt rubs the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond.

“Uh, thanks, J,” you mumble, clutching the hoodie to your chest as you leave.

It smells like cedar and something familiar. Like home.

Attempt #2: The ‘Oops, There’s Only One Bed’ Trick

On a weekend trip to Chicago for one of Matt’s away games, you and Jade stay in the same hotel.

Everything is fine—until you realize that your perfectly booked two-bed room has somehow turned into a single king-sized bed.

“The team told me they asked for two beds,” you tell the front desk, exasperated.

The receptionist frowns. “Your daughter told us you wanted one bed. I am so sorry we have nothing else available”

Your head snaps toward Jade, who grins, completely unrepentant.

“Jade—”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugs.

Matt arrives moments later, taking in the situation with a smirk. “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor.”

But when Jade starts fake crying—“We can all share! It’s a big bed!”—you both cave, lying stiffly on opposite sides.

Still, sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to Matt’s arm draped over your waist. And instead of moving away, you let yourself sink into it—just for a moment.

Attempt #3: The School Art Project

Parent-teacher night at Jade’s school is usually straightforward. You admire her work, chat with her teacher, and call it a night.

Except this time, her teacher greets you and Matt with a knowing smile.

“You have to see what Jade made,” she gushes, leading you to a table filled with colorful drawings.

There, in bright crayon strokes, is a picture of you, Matt, and Jade—holding hands, a big red heart above your heads. The words MY FAMILY are scrawled in crooked letters at the top.

You glance at Matt. He’s staring at the drawing, something unreadable in his expression.

“She talks about you two all the time,” the teacher says warmly. “How much she loves when you’re all together.”

Matt looks at you then, his blue eyes softer than you’ve seen in years.

And your heart stumbles.

Attempt #4: The “Oops, We Missed the Game” Move

One evening, as you’re supposed to take Jade to Matt’s game, she starts complaining of a “tummy ache.”

You fuss over her, canceling your plans, but by the time puck drop comes around, she’s suddenly perfectly fine.

“Jade…” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Were you really sick?”

She bats her lashes innocently. “I just thought Daddy would come check on us if we didn’t show up.”

You sigh, settling in to watch from the couch.

After the game you were tidying up when the door rings.

It’s Matt.

“You okay?” he asks, concern evident in his face “Saw you weren’t at the game.”

You exchange a glance with your daughter, who looks way too smug.

“We’re fine” you murmur.

Matt looks like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just ruffles Jade’s hair and stays for a while.

And you don’t mind. Not one bit.

The Breaking Point

It happened suddenly. A long shift at the hospital, a reckless driver on the road, and before you know it, you’re lying in a hospital bed instead of standing beside one.

You’re mostly fine—just a concussion, a few bruised ribs—but when you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is Matt.

He’s sitting in the chair beside you, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. He looks exhausted, his usual steady composure cracked wide open. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times, and there’s a crease between his brows that only deepens when he notices you stirring.

“Y/N.” His voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

You try to smile, but your ribs protest at the movement. “Hey, Matty.”

He exhales sharply, his whole body seeming to uncoil as he leans forward, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he should.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he murmurs. “I got the call in the middle of practice, and I just—” He drags a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “I thought— I don’t even know what I thought. I just knew I had to get to you.”

Your heart clenches. “I’m okay,” you reassure him softly. “Just a little banged up.”

But he doesn’t look comforted. If anything, his jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists.

“You shouldn’t have been alone” he says after a moment “I should’ve been there.”

His words make something ache deep inside you, something that’s been lingering for far too long.

“Matt…”

He finally reaches for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is firm, steady, like he needs to feel you to believe you’re still here.

“I can’t do this anymore” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightens. “Do what?”

“This” He gestures vaguely between you, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles. “Pretending like we’re just co-parents. Like we don’t still—” He stops himself, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze “Like I don’t still love you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“Matt…”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. “No, just— just let me say this, okay? I thought we were doing the right thing, staying apart. I told myself that over and over again. But every time I see you, every time we’re together with Jade, it feels like I’m right back where I’m supposed to be. And tonight, when I thought—” He swallows hard. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I don’t want to spend another second pretending like you’re not my home”

Tears sting your eyes. Because God, you know. You’ve always known.

Your life without Matt has never really been a life without him. He’s always been there, steady and sure, woven into your every day. And maybe you were both too stubborn or too scared to admit it before.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Matt reaches up to catch it with his thumb. His hand lingers, his palm warm against your skin.

You lean into the touch, exhaling shakily “I love you, too.”

The relief that washes over his face is immediate. And then he’s kissing you—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid you might disappear. But when you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hoodie, it deepens into something more—something familiar, something new, something that feels like coming home.

A tiny gasp from the doorway makes you break apart, and you both turn to find Jade standing there, eyes wide with delight.

“Are you kissing?” she asks, her little hands pressed to her mouth.

You laugh breathlessly, swiping at your damp cheeks. “We are”

Jade lets out an excited squeal and bolts down the hall. “GRANDMA! GRANDPA! DADDY AND MOMMY ARE IN LOVE!”

Matt groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “She’s never gonna let us live that down”

You grin, threading your fingers through his hair. “Probably not”

He pulls back, brushing his nose against yours. “Guess that means we have to make it official, huh?”

Your heart swells.

“Yeah” you whisper. “I guess we do.”

And as he kisses you again,you know, without a doubt, that you’ve finally found your way back home.

#matt boldy x reader #matt boldy imagine #nhl imagine

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lolkency · 2 days ago

Text

Swan Song 🩰

┆your dance partner and childhood best friend eren gets jealous during practice so he eats you out in the changing rooms

❥ eren x reader

cw: oral sex, vaginal fingering <3

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

BALLET PRACTICE

You arrived to the dance studio, scanning the people around you, to find your childhood best friend.

A familiar voice called out your name from behind you, it was Eren, who was just arriving to practice. He wore his usual black leggings and a tight black shirt to match. His thigh muscles pulsed with each stride.

"Hey, how was study night?" You asked, a hint of guilt washing over you, since you missed it to go on a date.

“Well you know it wasn't the same without you, so we obviously ended things early" he honked his shoulders.

"Oh my god I swear you guys can't do anything without me, I'm the glue of the group" you sarcastically replied.

Eren rolled his eyes "but seriously, it wasn't the same without that brain of yours", he smirked at his own remark.

"Hm I see what you did there, not funny. Actually it was the most unfunny thing I've heard all morning" you playfully pouted, now walking to your normal stretching spot.

"It's six in the m-"

"Shush" you chuckled, playfully putting your hand over his mouth. "Let's stretch."

You both sat down across from each other, beginning your floor stretches, your legs spread with ease. You hoped your instructor didn't pop in today, since you weren't wearing your leotard. Though she usually expected you to practice without her.

The drive from your date's house was too far to have stopped home, so you opted for the white tank and tights in your car, along with the blush skirt you found in your dance bag.

Eren held his hands out in front of him. You took them, letting him pull you towards him, stretching you out. You stretched down to the floor, your face directly between his legs.

You lifted up and pulled him towards you, his face now between your legs.

Eren had been your best friend since you were assigned to be dance partners for a recital, when you were 5. You bonded so well, that your parents insisted on you both staying partners. Fifteen years later, and you were still dancing together.

"So what happened with you and the mystery dude last night?" He asked, lifting up and moving to his individual stretches.

To others he was a bit too interested in your love life, but you were best friends, you shared everything with each other.

"Uhh where do I even start?" you thought back to the previous night. You gave him every detail of your date, explicit and all, knowing it secretly riled him up.

"Was he good?" he abruptly asked.

"I mean..Of course he was" you shrugged your shoulders, stretching your hands over to your left foot.

"He was a hell of a lot better than I expected him to be when I first met him, you know. Thought I was gonna have to do all the work, I was pleasantly surprised" you added, reminiscing your eventful night.

Eren stood up, stretching his hand out for you to grab it, helping you to your feet.

"He better than me?" his tone darker than before. He pulled you closer to him, beginning your routine.

You braced yourself against him, hands flush against his chest. Guess he wasn't enthusiastic with your words. He wore jealousy so well.

"And if I said he was?" You whispered into his ear, just as he grabbed your hips to lift you into the air. He spun around, holding you above his head.

Swiftly bringing you back down, he briefly let you go, until your bodies intertwined with one another again.

"Then you'd be lying" he scoffed, one of his hands at your hip, as the other glided up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You cleared your throat as you both finished up your routine, heading to get a drink of water.

He was right, your date wasn't as good as him, and you didn't think anyone ever would be. But, he only gave you attention when you decided you didn't want him. Eren loved the chase and you...loved being the catch.

You waited until everyone else finished dressing so you could both go into the changing rooms together, like you did most of the time.

In the room, you took off your skirt to change, but noticed Eren hadn't moved to change out of his clothes.

"It just keeps getting bigger by the day...maybe I should help you out with that?" He smirked, grabbing a handful of your ass.

'So it was going to be one of those days' you thought to yourself.

Eren's hands moved down your thighs. "You sure bout this?" You hesitantly asked, knowing the answer. "You know I am " he whispered as he softly bit your ear, before moving down to your neck.

Everyone else should have left by now and you both had around 10 minutes until the next batch of dancers arrived for their session.

Your past sexual experiences with Eren were always at least an hour 'so how the hell would he cum in 10 minutes' you thought to yourself.

"I'm all for a good fuck buddy session, but are you gonna be able to cum in 10 minutes?" You asked, as his tongue continued to lap at your neck, like he always did. His lips latched onto you, teeth sinking into your skin. You let a soft hiss.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing, I'm not tryna cum today, just wanna remind you who's better" Eren slowly got onto his knees, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your hand reached down to caress his cheek beneath you. Leaning into your hold, he grabbed your wrist, kissing the palm of your hand and dropping it at your side.

He didn't even give you a second to think, as he pushed your tights and lace panties down in unison, revealing your wet cunt.

" I'll never get tired of this" he smiled as he began peppering your thigh with kisses. Opening your legs wider to get better access, he left pretty little marks on your inner thighs, marking his territory.

You struggled to compose yourself under his touch with your back against the changing room mirror.

He left trails of kisses up your thighs at an excruciatingly slow pace until he reached your pussy.

"Ready?" He asked, hungrily looking up at you for your answer.

You frantically nodded waiting to be touched by his lips again.

He smiled at your frustration, as he lifted one of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulder. You stumbled a bit, attempting to hold your balance.

His hand wrapped around your thigh, keeping you in place. He opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue, sliding it in between your soaked lips.

Your legs trembled at the contact, as he sucked on your painfully throbbing clit, begging for attention. You let out a sigh, attempting compose yourself against the mirror.

Eren hungrily devoured you. He sucked your throbbing clit, lapping up anything that escaped.

Dipping his tongue inside you, he licked down from your ass, up until he latched back on your clit. He moaned against the sensitive bud, coaxing your hand to grab his hair.

His grip on your thigh grew tighter, his fingers now digging into your skin. "Mmm fuck Eren" you moaned.

You could feel his lips form into a smirk against you, releasing your clit with a 'pop'.

He moved his other hand up to your cunt, two fingers entering you. They moved in a beckoning motion, pressing against your sweet spot.

His lips attached to your pussy once again, lapping at you, hungrily, greedily. Your mind in a haze, you pulled his hair, ripping it from its bun. Eren groaned against you, the vibration sending pleasure through your core.

"Fuck" you moaned, beginning to grind against his face. Your grip on his hair tight, pressing him against you, using him to your advantage.

His fingers continued pumping into you as you fucked his face. "I'm gonna c-" before you could announce your climax, Eren ripped his face away from you, his fingers still knuckles deep inside you.

"Say it, say I'm better" he commanded, glancing up at you, his face flushed, wet with...you.

It was times like this, you wished you had photographic memory, the ability to capture this moment forever. You sighed, attempting to catch your breath.

"Yes, you're better, you always have been, and you always will be. Now pl-"

He swiftly took his fingers out of you, lifting your other leg over his shoulder. Your hands immediately attached to his head for balance.

His tongue swiped between your lips, teasingly, before his lips latched around your clit...again. Your fingers tangled into his hair, digging into his scalp.

Eren lapped at your pussy, pleasure building up once again, coaxing your climax.

Feeling the knot in your stomach, you knew you were going to cum all over your childhood best friend's face . You pushed his head further down into your cunt.

Tightening his hold on your thighs, Eren aggressively sucked and slurped every drop of you.

You let out a cry, feeling that knot unravel, still grinding against his face, coming down from your high. "Nobody like you" you shakily praised him, as he lifted one leg, then the other off his shoulders.

"I know, just needed to remind you" he took his clothes off, changing out of his practice clothes.

You could see that he was rock hard. He noticed you staring "We don't have time right now, you can repay me another time" he smirked, as he finished changing.

You did the same and put on your clothes, noting to shower as soon as you got home.

Ending your session right on time, you heard the next batch of dancers enter the changing rooms. You both finished freshening up before you left out and headed outside.

✎first fic on here kinda nervy lol, hope you enjoyed!

-ciara💻

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot x reader #aot #aot smut #aot fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #anime #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #smut

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heartsforjh · 1 day ago

Text

Six Lines

𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝐻𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓍 𝐹𝑒𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

main masterlist | six lines masterlist

“Baby? Baby, did you take your vitamins yet?” your husband, Jack, asks for what feels like the hundredth time this morning, stepping into the view of the TV.

You sigh, sitting on the couch, just trying to watch the new season of your show. You haven’t been able to watch it since it came out a month ago, and it’s been driving you crazy trying to avoid spoilers.

Admittedly, you answer him with a bit of venom. “Not yet, honey.”

He’s been like this ever since the two of you found out about the baby at only one week. It was sweet at first—a concerned husband and dad-to-be—but it quickly got old. Now you’re six weeks in, and you’ve started to feel like Jack may very well be practicing his parenting on you.

“Hey, lose the attitude. I’m trying to take care of you here,” he says, his tone soft.

You try to look around him to see the TV, but it’s no use. “J, move. I’m trying to see this.”

“Baby, I get that your hormones are all over the place, but you don’t have to be so mean,” he says sternly, as if he thinks he has the right to lecture you.

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe you’re just majorly pissing me off.”

“Okay… for my sake, I’m gonna say it’s the hormones,” he says with a nod, heading back into the kitchen.

Just when you think you’ve lost him, he comes back in and sits next to you on the couch. “So, vitamins?”

You glance over at him to see he’s holding the bottle of prenatals. You let out a scoff, but decide it couldn’t hurt to take them right now, especially since he brought them to you, saving you a trip to the kitchen.

“J, if I take these… will you please leave me alone?” you ask, fully serious.

He raises an eyebrow at you, not sure whether to be offended or amused. “I can’t love on my wife?”

“No,” you shoot back, grabbing the bottle and getting your vitamins out for the morning. “Now, answer.”

“I mean, I guess I will if it’ll get you to take them,” he says with a shrug.

You immediately pop the vitamins into your mouth. “Great! Thank you!”

Jack nods and gives you a kiss on the cheek. He gets up and walks away from the couch. He wants to give you the space you need, but truthfully, he’s a little hurt that you want him away from you.

Later in the day, you need to make a quick run upstairs. As you approach the stairs, you hear a certain someone’s footsteps and they sound like they’re coming toward you. When Jack grabs your hand and puts his other hand on your waist, it only confirms your suspicions.

“Do you need help, baby?” he asks, and you can’t help but think about how ridiculous that is. He’s already trying to help, and then he wants to ask if you need it after the fact.

You sigh, again, trying to keep your composure and not be too mean, knowing he has good intentions. “I’m a big girl. I’ve got it handled.”

“But I don’t want you to fall. It’s easy to do when you’re pregnant,” he insists, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

You sigh, for what may actually be the hundredth time, feeling even more guilty at how irritated you are because of him. “And I appreciate that, I really do. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not even showing yet. We’re like a month into this pregnancy, Jacky. I promise you, there is absolutely nothing throwing me off balance.”

“I’ve seen you fall over nothing, baby. I’m not letting my clumsy, pregnant wife walk up the stairs alone,” he says, kissing your cheek. “Now, come on, pretty girl. Let’s go up.”

You exhale, accepting that this is your life now. You thought Jack coddled you before, but this is a whole new level of insane.

“Thank you. It was really good,” You say, finishing up dinner, the one Jack made—of course.

He smiles, pleased with himself. “Thank you. I’m really glad you liked it.”

“Mhm,” you hum with a light nod.

You start to feel a little nauseous, so before doing anything else, you get up from the table, head to the fridge, grab a water, and gulp it down. By the time you feel you’ve had enough, you look over and see that Jack’s now up from his seat, bringing your plate to the sink.

“I was gonna do that. I can do that,” you say, with a tinge of annoyance.

He looks up from what he’s doing. “Yeah… yeah, I know.”

“So… stop, please. I was gonna do that! I just got up for two seconds! Why would you do that?” you say, frustrated. The more you speak, the more you’re working yourself up.

You’ve started to feel horrible when he does things like this. You’re going to be a mom soon. You’re definitely not a helpless baby, so why is he treating you like one?

Jack frowns, confused at why you’re freaking out at him over some plates. “I—I just wanted to help.”

“You’re not helping! I can clean up after myself! So, how is that helpful? You’re not doing anything special cause it was gonna get done either way!” you press, growing increasingly upset.

Jack winces at the sight of you being so bothered, but he’s still confused as to what he’s doing wrong. “Hey, hey, hey. Why are you being like this?”

“You’re just being so annoying! I can’t stand it.” You say, frustration bubbling over.

You storm out of the kitchen, not wanting to be in there any longer. Mostly because you’re upset at Jack, but partly because the sad look on his face is starting to get to you.

Not long after, it’s time for bed. When Jack comes into the room, the tension is thick. You sit on the bed in your nightset, watching as he moves around the room to get ready for sleep. He looks so innocent, simply going about his bedtime routine. You feel an intense feeling of guilt for how you’ve treated him all day. However, you don’t want to bring it up if he’s not already thinking about it.

He gets dressed and lies down in the bed without saying a word, and he seems mad. That is, until he sticks his arms out for you. “Come here, baby.”

You immediately melt, moving right into his arms and cuddling up with him. He kisses the top of your head and starts stroking your hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean. Well, I kind of was, but… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you explain as best you can.

Jack nods, giving you another kiss on the head to reassure you that he’s not angry. “Okay, talk to me. What did I do to upset you?”

“I just… you’re not treating me very normal. I don’t like it. I know I’m pregnant now, but I can still do things on my own. It won’t be like that for long. Soon I’ll be forcing you to put my shoes on for me. I just want to enjoy my independence while I still can,” you finally open up, and get your feelings off your chest.

But it doesn’t relieve how you feel. If anything, telling him makes you more anxious. What if you make him feel worse? Him being a little overbearing doesn’t mean he deserves that.

Jack just nods, staying silent for a moment that feels like an eternity to you. “Yeah… I—I get that. You’re right. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. There’s no excuse for suffocating you like that, but I want you to know it wasn’t on purpose. You have to remember, this is my first time doing all of this too. I’m still trying to understand it, and all I know is that my girl is carrying my baby, and there’s so little I can do to stop the things you’ll have to go through. I feel kind of useless, honestly. And I’ve been trying to find ways to fix that. I’m sorry, baby.”

“That makes sense. I should’ve told you I was getting irritated way sooner. I say I want to be treated like an adult, but then I was just plain mean to you. That wasn’t exactly mature of me,” you admit, defeated.

Jack smiles softly, easing the tension in the room. “I forgive you. We’re both just trying to figure this thing out on our own. We should start doing it together, you know? Let’s communicate better. If I’m bothering you, I want you to tell me, okay?”

“Okay. And if you think I’m… I guess being overly mean to you, please tell me. I don’t like knowing I may be hurting your feelings. Oh! And I’ll make sure to ask if I actually need help with something,” you say, glancing up at him.

He smiles down at you and kisses you on the nose. “Deal. You’re lucky you’re cute. I can’t be mad at you.”

“So… can you please rub my back? It hurts,” you ask him, and the room goes silent for a moment.

“All of a sudden you want my help?” he asks, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

hey guys! i’m not sure how good this part is… i wrote it at like 3AM so idk if i trust my own sleep deprived judgement right now. nevertheless, i hope you all enjoyed! <3

tags: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle

join the taglist here!

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