#lets pretend she struggled and called him a bunch of names

[chelseeebe]

gasoline.

so this was supposed to be like a the bear au and then i just got carried away and now it’s just whatever the hell this is lmao it’s been sitting in my docs since july and i thought it finally needed to see the light of day :)

this is two parts in one bc i hate doing two seperate parts but it’s highlighted where p1 ends and p2 begins

wc: 12k+ oops

‎♡‧₊˚

Look, the sleazy, deteriorating walls of Frank’s had never been his idea of a dream. But flunking high school and a failed band had meant limited this is where he’d ended up. Running the line at the frankly failing restaurant was more like his idea of hell but it paid the bills and with a solid team of other degenerates, meant that it wasn’t all that bad. 

Well, that was until the devil incarnate came along. And by devil incarnate he means you. 

Eddie couldn’t grasp why someone of your stature would ever take a job at such a shitty restaurant, with your fancy knives and kitchen lingo that really meant nothing to him, why wouldn’t you look for something else? Something better?

You’d ended up here because… well, despite going to culinary school, getting the big job after you had graduated and doing everything by the book so to speak, you’d missed that burning passion that could only be found in the shittiest, dirtiest kitchens. 

Well that, and the fact you’d been let go. But that wasn’t relevant. 

“Honey, I’ve been here for years, I really don’t give a shit about anything you’ve gotta say,” flapping his arms around at your suggestion of maybe washing his hands when he got back in from smoking, “Helen never had a problem with it, so why do you?”

“First off, I have asked you not to call me honey or whatever other stupid pet name you wanna give me… it’s chef,” brows furrowed, the rest of the kitchen pretending not to listen to your latest bickering, “and secondly, Helen is gone, so whatever rules she implemented mean nothing now, okay? You wash your hands when you come back in or… or…” struggling to come up with a suitable punishment. 

“Or.. or what?” he mocks, turning to his colleagues for a little backup, “you gonna fire me? ‘Cause I’d love to see you try,” refusing to back down. 

It was the principle, you see. Eddie really would’ve had no issue with washing his hands if literally anyone other than you had asked. He was positively fuming that you had just flounced in here and started laying down a bunch of bullshit rules that no other soul had cared about in his five years working here. Not only that, you’d beaten him to the head chef role. He was certain that he was a shoe in the second Helen announced that she was moving on. Only to walk in one morning to your grinning face, your uniform crisply ironed and this certain energy only Eddie had seemed to sense.

You sigh, you never liked to be the first one to resign after an argument but Eddie was relentless and would’ve kept at it all day if you didn’t, “Just wash your hands.. chef,” it was entirely too busy to spend all day going back and forth with the man child. 

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he’s smirking now, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Please,” you frown, hand firmly on your hip as you stare back at him. You felt pathetic begging for the tiniest bit of respect in your damn kitchen but it was simply the only way to get him to cooperate. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he goads, brushing against your shoulder as he makes his way to the sink, the rest of the kitchen is in complete silence, watching and waiting to see how this one would end. 

You readjust your collar, pressing your lips together in a firm line, choosing to ignore his childish remark. There would come a day that he’d regret every horrid thing he’d said to you and maybe that day wasn’t today but it would come and you could not wait. 

-

It’s another month of butting heads with the long-haired prick before things come totally to a head. His inability to just follow simple orders had you at wits end, because Eddie truly believed that he knew better. A suggestion to add thyme to the mash potatoes had caused all out war in the kitchen. 

“No, we add rosemary… not fuckin’ thyme,” he spits, aggressively stiring the pot, his back to you, guarding his precious dish from your grabby hands.

“And I’m saying to add both- actually no, I’m not saying, I’m telling,” grabbing the container of thyme and attempting to sprinkle it into the pan, “move out of the way, that’s an order.” 

“Oooo,” he mocks, knuckles turning white from his grip on the handle, “An order.. I’m so scared,” chuckling as he blocks you from reaching over his shoulder, “why d’you think you know better, huh? You don’t know shit about this restaurant, we’ve done it my way for years and that’s not gonna change now.” 

“Because I’m the fucking chef and I know better than you,” finally snapping at the man, slamming the container down onto the stainless steel countertop, “move. now,” you bark, widening your eyes as he twists around to meet yours, you could feel the disgust radiating from his glare. 

“No.” 

You huff, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fucking ponytail around your hand and slam his head into the worktop, “Step out chef,” a simple order that you thought was far more gracious than he deserved.

His mouth falls open, still gripping onto the now-overworked potatoes, “What the fuck?” frantically flailing for some comradery from his fellow workers, it seemed that they’d all fallen into place, no longer the bunch of grimy assholes he once knew. 

“Step out,” you persist, teeth gritted as you stand strong on your order, tilting your chin to meet his harrowing gaze. Eddie didn’t frighten you per say, but he was intimidating and if it came down to it, you probably weren’t going to be the one to win that fight. 

“Fuck this,” he exclaims, slamming the pan down onto the stove top with a loud bang before storming off out of the fire escape door, not before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf you’d repeatedly told him not to keep them on. 

There’s now mash potato all over the hob that would probably need some extensive scrubbing and would ensure that your kitchen would absolutely reek of the stuff all night. If you could have it your way, you’d have made him scrub the entire oven with a dang toothbrush until you could see your face in the metal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cheeks burn as the rest of the kitchen watches on in utter amazement, even the old, hardened chefs had taken to your ways even if it had taken a little bit of pushing. There was no understanding as to why he couldn’t just listen, just shut up and get on with his job without trying to constantly argue and bite back. Maybe because you were a woman? You were younger than him? Or maybe it was simply because someone was finally up to the job of challenging him and he hated that fact. 

Whatever it was, it was getting on your last nerve. 

Eddie wasn’t by any means a bad chef, he was innovative and knew how to make shit taste good, he was just incapable of accepting that maybe his way of doing things wasn’t the only way. 

You smooth your clammy palms down your apron, nodding at Tina. A subtle way of telling her to carry on and take charge while you dealt with the pathetic man outside. 

The door slams as you step outside, looking around the dark alley for the man, following the trail of smoke to his slouched position around the corner. Now, this was the difficult part, you weren’t really looking to fire him but what choice did you have if he couldn’t just accept that you were his boss now. 

“Have you calmed down?” breaking the silence, fingernails pressed into your palm leaving tiny crescent moon indentations. 

You never were one for confrontation. 

He scoffs, refusing to look in your direction as he puffs on the cigarette, “I’m calm.. are you calm?”

Even now, he couldn’t just smile and nod, always had to say something else, “I’m calm,” swallowing the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “do you want to work here?”  

“Nobody wants to work here, shit- even you don’t wanna be here,” chuckling to himself, smoke falling from his lips. 

“Yes I do. Do you? Because I can help you if you don’t, trust me I am not scared to just let you go.” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, tossing the cigarette to the ground before finally meeting your gaze, “you’re firing me?” 

“No,” relaxing your shoulders, “but I need to know that you want to work here. That you aren’t going to keep arguing with me about stupid shit because I truly do not have the energy for it anymore,” watching as his expression falls, at a stretch you’d say he looks remorseful but that could very well just be the moonlight reflecting on his face, granting him more grace than he deserved. 

The alley falls into silence, the only sounds being that of the bustling city around you and Tina’s faint voice barking instructions inside the kitchen. 

His eyes avert to the concrete, with a pained expression he breaks the silence, “I do… wanna work here,” it’s like that tiny sentence caused him physical pain to get out. 

“Good,” you nod, his words may mean nothing but it’s a relief to finally hear that he gives somewhat of a shit about this place running smoothly, “Eddie, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a really good chef… but even the best chefs have to take orders sometimes and you are no exception to that.”

Eddie untenses his jaw for what must be the first time in ten years, that tiny bit of affirmation was exactly what he was looking for, “...thank you,” he turns his head towards yours, “I think you’re… you’re an okay chef,” the tiniest traces of a smile on his face as he pushes himself from the rough brick.

Your eyes roll instinctively but you’re not mad, for once, “get back inside,” waving him off towards the door without turning to look at him. 

Taking the moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Who knew if Eddie had meant what he said or if it was even going to change anything but it had definitely meant something. It wasn’t a burning desire of yours to come in and be the new evil boss in fact, it was the very opposite of what you’d pictured. There just wasn’t much lee-way when you were given a team of stubborn assholes that had gotten far too used to slacking off. 

Frank’s could really become something if everyone wanted it and were willing to put in the effort required to get there. Sure, you probably weren’t going to earn a Michelin star but you were sure you could make it worthy of something. 

-

Eddie had mostly kept to his word. Finally washing his hands and keeping his hair out of his face, even if you had had to nag at him a little. There wasn’t as much kick back as before. Sure, he’d roll his eyes and huff and puff but he’d actually do it. 

It’s another Saturday night, you’re not so busy but enough to keep you on your toes. Just longing for the moment you collapsed into your bed and didn’t have to think about this place until Monday morning. 

Eddie sidles up to where you’re working, going over the rota for the next two weeks. Weighing up if waking up at the ass crack of dawn was actually worth all this. 

“So I was thinking..” 

“Uh oh,” you add, snapping the book shut before turning to him, he’s hopeful. Well, that or he’s about to say the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah great thanks.. so I was thinking, it’s getting warmer, right? I think we should put sandwiches on the menu, and not just boring old sandwiches.. like, like good ones,” his vocabulary is limited but you get what he means. 

You ponder for a moment, staring into his wide, optimistic eyes. It was a good idea to be fair to him, you just weren’t sure if you had the time to conjure up a whole new sandwich menu on top of everything else on your plate. 

“Okay, I actually think that’s a great idea,” you two were civil, not exactly the best buds but you think maybe now you could trust him. “If you can come up with some ideas and make them for me.. I’ll think about it.” 

His grin is infectious as it spreads across his face, “I got you… what are you thinking? Something with chicken or..” fishing for ideas. 

You throw your hands up, a shadow of a smile on your lips, “that is entirely up to you, okay?” 

He nods knowingly, slowly backing away, eager to get started on his first individual project since your arrival. 

“I’m trusting you with this!” you holler after him, getting back to the mess of a rota in front of you. 

“Yes boss,” he calls back from somewhere in the kitchen, “I mean chef,” catching himself. 

Your heart warms a little. Maybe your lectures hadn’t gone so unnoticed after all? 

-

No matter how hard you stare at the screen, willing for something to magically appear, it doesn’t. The line marker blinking at you, taunting you, pleading with you to just write something. Anything!

There’s a quiet wrapping of knuckles against the door causing your head to fly up, finding a surprisingly clean Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” spinning your chair slightly, “shit, sorry I forgot to say you’re good to go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” flashing him a tight lipped smile. 

“Oh no… most of ‘em have already gone,” vaguely motioning to the now empty kitchen, “uh… a few of us were gonna grab a drink and wondered if you’d wanna join us?” He resembles a shy child, fingers tapping along the battered door frame. 

“Oh!” you must’ve sounded shocked as his eyebrows travel up his forehead in surprise, getting invited out by your crew had just.. never really happened before, “I’m sorry, I actually can’t tonight,” pointing at the blank word document, “the menu is due next week and I uh- I have nothing but you guys have fun,” shooing him off. 

It was a Thursday night and you couldn’t think of anything worse than waking up tomorrow with a blinding hangover. 

“You need help with that menu shit? I mean, my sandwiches are a hit so.. maybe I could help?” placing his jacket on the old cabinet in the corner, prepared to help no matter what you replied. 

You’re not exactly in the position to say no to help at this point.. 

“I mean.. yeah, if you can think of six amazing, brilliant, showstopping new dishes then be my guest because I sure as shit can’t,” unintentionally coming off a little rude. 

It’s just frustrating, the first big step you were taking for this restaurant and you were still somehow managing to fuck it up

“Okay, what’ve you got?” he peers over your shoulder at the blank screen, “ah, right,” he sucks his teeth, “not great.” 

“No.. no it’s not,” slouching down the chair, “I’m completely fucked,” pushing the loose strands of hair from your forehead. 

“You’re not completely fucked- not yet,” dragging the spare chair around to the other side of the desk, “I’m sure we can think of something tonight,” pulling the laptop closer to him. 

You smile at him, grateful for his positivity even if it was fake. 

The pair of you throw some shoddy ideas back and forth for a half hour. None of them good enough to make it to the word document, instead getting scribbled onto a ripped out page from your notebook. 

“I am fucked, aren’t I?” you frown, rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

He chuckles softly, “nah.. there’s some good stuff here,” running his finger down the messy list. 

You feel completely vulnerable with him here, it might have been the lack of sleep or just the fact that you appreciated his presence so much but you foolishly begin to let your thoughts wander. 

“I just feel like I’m fuu-,” immediately regretting opening your mouth, “no, you know what? Doesn’t matter,” you look at the clock on the wall signalling that it had gone well past midnight, “you should get going, it’s late,” pretending to scroll on the still-bare document. 

“No, what were you gonna say?” 

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, “I said it doesn’t matter.” 

“It obviously does,” he pushes, egging you on. 

You take a sharp intake of breath to signal that you weren’t willing to go any further with this. Why couldn’t he just fucking drop it?

“Oh my God, you started this conversation and now you don’t wanna finish it,” frustrated that it had seemed like you were finally beginning to seem like you were somewhat human, he grabs his discarded jacket, rolling his eyes as he starts to exit the office. 

“I’m scared I’m not doing a good job… you all obviously care about this place and I’ve just come in here and ruined it,” biting down onto your bottom lip, “and as much as you all pretend to like me, I know you don’t and- and that’s fine,” you shrug, exasperated with the weight of a thousand bricks hanging onto your shoulders, “I don’t care about being liked, I just want this restaurant to work but it feels like I can’t even do that,” slumping forward, confounded and slightly in shock that the first person you’d spilled all of this to was fucking Eddie.

“I do like you,” he says quietly, stopping in his tracks, throwing his jacket back down, “everyone does… you’re making this restaurant better,” rejoining you at the desk, “we’re all just stubborn and mean so no one’s told you but you’re doing good,” a reassuring smile overcoming his lips, his hand wavers, unsure of whether to reach out to touch your shoulder or if that was a step too far. 

He flops back into the chair and you offer him a genuine smile for his words. It was really all you could muster without starting to cry. Coming into an already established restaurant with new ideas and ways of working was never easy but to be met with such pushback from him had made it even harder. So to now have him say in front of you, telling you that what you’re doing is right, well it meant the world. 

“Thank you,” you mouth, blinking earnestly as you flip the laptop lid shut, it was too late and you were far too tired to even try to continue. “That really means a lot from you,” attempting to turn your vulnerability into a joke. 

“I mean it, though,”scooting closer on the chair, “I just enjoy arguing with you too much to admit it.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, that much was true, he definitely enjoyed getting under your hair and pissing you off as much as he could. 

“We should go, it’s super late and I’ve got all day tomorrow to do this,” sliding the pen into the pot, feeling his eyes still boring into the side of your face. 

You stand from your seat, expecting him to follow but he stays firmly planted in his chair. Hand reaching out to grab your wrist as you grab your bag. Jolting away as you’re not expecting the sudden contact. 

He swallows, standing up before deciding whether to just fuck it or if this was about to get him fired. You’re blissfully unaware that this internal battle was even happening until his hand is on your cheek, tilting your chin upwards before closing the distance between your bodies, smashing his lips to yours. 

Oh shit. 

It takes a second for your brain to process what was happening but you don’t.. dislike it. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, sliding his tongue into your parted mouth with a quickness. 

Leaning into the kiss, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on his shoulders. You’re taken aback by how easy it feels, moving together just right. The small of your back crashes into the rigid desk, pulling you out of the kiss and back into reality. Staring back at his darkened eyes with a slight bemused expression. 

“No.. not here,” squeezing his shoulder. His hand paused on your shirt button, getting ahead of himself. Maybe you had found yourself wanting to fuck Eddie but not here. You weren’t that stupid. 

His hand falls, swinging to his side, “oh.. you didn’t- did I fuck up?” still mere inches from your face, so close in fact, you could feel his breath on your flushed cheek. 

“No.. no, I just..” deciding to just bite the bullet and go for it, “do you wanna go back to my apartment? It’s not far,” blinded by the haze of lust that was filling the small room to the brim. 

His eyes grow wide, realising exactly what you meant, buzzing with impatience and excitement. “Yes.. yeah I’d love to,” his plump lips still wet with the remnants of your mouth. 

You nod, letting go of his shoulder to gather your things, and yourself, before pulling him out of the restaurant. Eddie is more than willing to leave his van in the parking lot, jumping into your car with an primal eagerness. 

The car journey is quiet and you wonder if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. What would everyone at work say? Maybe they didn’t have to know? This could be a one time thing and you’ll both just never mention it again. Well, you hope anyway. 

You think your head might just burst the second he walks into your apartment, somewhere you had never expected Eddie to ever appear. 

You’re quick to continue the abandoned kiss, not giving him any opportunity to make wise cracks about your apartment. It somehow felt easier if it was just mindless sex where you didn’t speak. 

Guiding him towards your bedroom because the couch felt just a tad too casual. His hands are everywhere, sneaking underneath your blouse and then back down into the waistband of your pants. You shove him backwards onto your bed, clambering on top quickly so as to not give him a chance to start speaking or to do anything stupid. 

Eddie’s obviously not keen on giving you the higher ground, gripping onto your waist and flipping the both of you so that he led on top. He’s got this devilish grin on his face that is so smug, you just want to slap it off of him. You chase the taste of his mouth with yours, becoming accustomed to the mixture of cigarettes and mint. God, you hope this doesn’t become a regular thing. 

He pulls away from you to gawp down the space between your bodies, mouth hung open, gasping for breath while his fingers skillfully unbutton your pants, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips, “woah… when the hell d’you get that?” staring at the black ink covering your thigh, a rose curling around the length of your flesh. 

A dumb decision you’d made the first week of culinary school. You felt out of place alongside the other chefs who were absolutely covered in tattoos and felt the need to join them. Except, you hadn’t exactly thought about it and just went along with the first thing the dodgy artist had suggested. He’d also quite purposely left out just how much such a large piece would fucking hurt, especially for a first tattoo. 

You join him in looking down at it, curling your lips in disgust, “when I was like… eighteen, it’s ugly and I hate it so thank you,” continuing your task of getting his jacket off, ignoring the fact that he was still ogling the inking and slightly starting to regret your decision to bring him here. 

“It’s fucking sick, what are you talking about?” he’s smirking, running his fingers along the thick lining as your pants hang around your knees, “I thought you were like… boring,” finding the hem of your lacy underwear and tugging on it. 

Your lips hover above his, eyes hooded as you glare at him, “can you just shut up before I regret everything and make you leave?”

He nods instantaneously, connecting your lips with a quickness, shaking his jacket off of his arm and onto the floor with a thud. Repositioning his knees to either side of your thighs, you’d done a good job of getting your shirt half-off, his fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons as you break from his lips, leaving wet kisses along his stubbly jawline. 

“Holy fuck, you’re joking?” his eyes just about popping out of his head as your pierced nipples spill out of your bra. Another spontaneous teenage decision you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet. 

His hand is immediately drawn to your exposed breast, full of pure glee, “you’re a dark horse, you know that right?” thumb running over the erect nipple as you fumble with his tattered old belt. 

Your mouth opens to protest his ogling but is quickly replaced with a soft gasp, his thumb working miracles on the sensitive bud. Head falling back against the pillow when his lips replace his thumb, licking and sucking on your nipple with a wicked grin. 

“Shit,” you moan, his growing erection rutting against your core, “can you- please hurry up,” it sounds strangled coming from your throat, embarrassed that you’ve completely melted into a pile of putty beneath him. If you’d have known that his mouth could be put to such good use, maybe you’d have tried this earlier. 

Thankfully, he takes the hint, leaving one last kitten lick to your chest before rushing to get his pants down. Kicking them off to the side somewhere, the clunk of his belt buckle hitting your bed frame on the way down. 

“Oh baby, that all for me?” remarking on your absolutely sodden underwear, hurriedly pulling them down your thighs, before using the same hand to position himself at your dripping entrance. 

You’re too desperate to think of anything smart to say back, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d probably just start begging. 

His face mere inches from yours as he pushes himself inside, a groan from somewhere deep in his chest falls out, “Jesus Christ,” he stutters, willing himself not to cum right now. Sex is always better with someone you detested. Now why is that? 

Your arms loosely knot around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair, trying your utmost to hold eye contact as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, reaching the hilt before pulling back and sliding in, it’s excruciatingly slow and your legs tighten around his waist, begging for more. 

“Faster.. please Eddie,” whining as his pace quickens, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yeah yeah.. yeah, say my name,” he blabbers, one hand sliding between your, thumb tapping against your swollen clit before rubbing tiny circles to the sensitive surface. 

“Shit,” you breathe, feeling incredibly full as his tip nudges against that soft, spongy spot. Your eyes squeeze shut, illuminated with an illustration of stars and white hot light. Your heart wasn’t eager to just adhere to his demands like that but shit, when he sounded this desperate, you couldn’t help it. 

Chanting his name like an oath in time with his thrusts. The filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, accompanying the strained groans coming from his throat. It was far too late and your neighbours could surely hear every single thing. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and you can feel his hips stutter, “you gonna cum for me? Huh?” dropping his forehead to rest against yours. 

Your thighs squeeze around his torso at the words, feeling yourself grow closer to your impending orgasm. His thumb still expertly rubbing your clit, slow but deep thrusts as he nears his own end. Your brain too hazy to think coherently about anything as you tighten around him, overcome with the blinding pleasure of your orgasm. 

“Yesyesyes,” you garble, trembling as you come undone completely, back arching from the mattress which brings your bodies impossibly close. Tugging gently on his curls as a means of encouragement, not that he needed it. 

“Ohhh fuck yeah.. shit,” unable to stop himself in time, spurting thick ropes of cum inside of you. You’re too fucked out to truly think about the implications yet, still gasping for air as he pumps his cock a few measly times before pulling out and sitting up on his knees. 

His wild hair stuck to his moist forehead as he looms above, trying to catch his own breath between your knees. “I’m so sorry.. you’re not.. you can’t get pregnant, can you?” one hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

Your eyes roll on their own, accelerating back to Earth at an insane pace, “no,” reshuffling so you laid comfortably on the pillow, “but you can’t do that again,” glaring up at him without any realisation as to what you just said. 

“Again?” his brows raise, still poised between your legs, “there’s a next time?” 

You huff, turning on your side, away from Eddie and his stupid doe eyes and that ridiculous smirk. Reaching down to grab a shirt from your bedside table while he chuckles to himself. 

Ashamedly, your heart skips a beat when he slides in behind you, pressing his body into yours. You were losing it, and embarrassingly quickly too. Ah fuck. 

-

A hand snaking around your waist pulls you from your sleep and for a brief moment you start to think someone had broken in and decided to crawl into bed with you. Until said hand creeps down to your hip and those lips you’d hung off last night press a small kiss to your shoulder. 

“Morning,” you grumble, placing your hand atop of his to stop it creeping into the waistband of your shorts.  

“Ah c’mon..” frowning against your back, “best way to start a long day.” 

“I have to get ready for work, so do you actually,” keeping your head firmly on the pillow, there were no real intentions of getting up. Not yet. 

“Hmm.. five minutes,” hand descending even with yours on top, his smirk evident, dripping through his words. You shudder as his hand reaches your cunt, leaning backwards into his chest, ever so slightly parting your legs. 

“Five minutes,” you agree, fully acknowledging that you were slipping into dangerous territory here. 

-

“Did you fuck Helen too?” you ask, not really wanting to know the answer but just having to know if you were right in your stereotyping. 

Every kitchen had one. The one that seemed to make their way around everyone eventually. You were sure Eddie was that one and you were the last on his hit list. 

“What? Helen was like fifty dude,” messing with the volume dial on the radio. 

“So? Did you?”

He’s silent for a second, throwing his hands into the air, “it was one time,” raging that you’d caught him out on such a baseless accusation. 

“I knew it,” nodding smugly to yourself, he most definitely has the aura of the kitchen bike and that was for sure. 

“Yeah but… you’re like actually hot and I know what you’re thinking but no, I am not a slut… it was once and we were drunk and that was it, so you can shut up,” deciding to turn the stereo off, not a fan of your choice of Taylor Swift records. 

“I’m like… actually hot?” mimicking his tone. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head, of course that’d be the only part of the sentence you picked up on, “hon, you don’t notice me pop a boner everytime we argue?”

Your face screws up, unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or if you should be speaking to HR, “wasn’t generally looking in that direction if I’m honest,” swinging round into the car park, just past Eddie’s abandoned van, “thanks though… I think,” smiling at him as you gather your things. 

“It was a compliment, by the way,” stepping out of your car, tapping the doors of his rusty old van before walking inside, going on and on about Peggy (his van) and how important she was to him. 

You’re not entirely paying attention as you walk into the kitchen, startled by the presence of somebody already clattering about in there. Eddie follows closely behind, just as confused as you that anybody sane would be here this early. 

“Hello?” you call out, rounding the corner to spot Marcus who had taken it upon himself to come in early to start prep, making a monumental mess of the counter. 

“Oh yeah, hey… I wanted to start now ‘cause I need to leave early- you two came in together?” perplexed by the sight of Eddie peering over your shoulder, the batter covered wooden spoon pointed at the pair of you. 

“Right… er- his van broke down last night and I said I’d give him a ride,” nodding at your obviously fabricated story, looking to Eddie for some back up. 

He nods along happily, “I’m gonna take a look at ‘er later, fingers crossed or you’ll be givin’ me rides all week,” slinking away into the locker room with a sly smirk on his face, thankfully hidden by the shoddy wall as he winks. 

“God forbid,” you quip back, scrunching up your nose as you leave the two of them and make your way to the office, throwing your bag onto the cluttered desk and collapsing onto the desk chair. 

You had to get this damn menu done by Friday or you were completely, utterly fucked. Already three days behind on the schedule, you’d be lucky if you even made it home tonight. Flinging the discarded laptop lid open to be met with the very much blank menu once again. An email pings through that makes your heart jump. It must’ve gone unseen when you were otherwise occupied last night. 

Hello,

I hope this email finds you well. 

I just wanted to confirm that Joan will be in attendance on May 18th as per your invitation. She is looking forward to trying the new menu and will subsequently write a review expecting to be published on or around the 20th. 

Thank you, 

Imogen Smart, The Indianapolis Star

Oh shit oh fuck oh balls. 

It had slipped your mind that you’d even invited her along to try the new menu. What a colossal mistake this would turn out to be. 

Stupid, stupid girl. 

You’re slouched over the desk, head in your hands when Eddie creeps through the open door, startling you when he speaks, “you good?” making his way to the desk, leering down to look at the screen as if it was any of his business. 

“I really do not have time for you right now,” smoothing out your new-found forehead wrinkles. You never had time for his bullshit but you certainly did not have time for them now. 

“Eh, what the fuck? I was inside of you like three hours ago and now you’re being weird again?” 

“Shhh- shut up,” you whisper-shout, the chair rolling back as you stand rather ferociously, staring at the gap in the door and just praying that Marcus was too busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing to hear. 

“Jesus… chill out,” his hands are on your shoulders, soothing your nerves irregardless of how much you cared to admit it. 

You blink at him, cheeks burning, “I just- I have so much to do today, this critic is coming and I still haven’t finished the men-” 

Your sentence is rudely interrupted with his soft lips pressing against yours, caressing your cheek with his rough hand. It’s automatic, but you’re leaning into it, finding yourself gripping onto his bicep as he nudges you back towards the desk. It’s probably a good thing that your tailbone smacks into the sharp edge, pushing him from you as you come back to planet Earth. 

“Stop.. stop,” gently squeezing his arm, the other consoling your throbbing spine, “I need you out there today, okay? You’re gonna have to take charge, get shit done and do not bother me unless that kitchen is on fire or you’ve cut your arm off, okay?” lowering your head to meet his eyeline. 

“My arm? That’s a bit extreme,” deciding to turn your high stress situation into a joke. 

“Yes your arm, finger you can deal with, capiche?”

“Yes ma’am,” hand lingering on the small of your back, “you sure you’re good?” 

You exhale slowly and perhaps a tad too harshly snap, “yes.. I’m okay, now unless you have a brand new menu for me.. get out,” sweetening the blow with a sickly smile, motioning for him to leave. 

“Okay okay..” he begins walking to the door, “I’m in charge, right?” ever the opportunist. 

“Yes, but do not make me regret it,” flashing him a warning look. 

“Sweet,” winking at you as he slips out of the door, rubbing his hands together like the little demon he is. You roll your eyes but can’t deny the way your heart thuds with affection.

Whatever was blossoming had the potential to fuck up every single good thing you’d done for this place, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to at least see how far you could go before total chaos.

- p2

You had meant for it to be casual. Like a few times a month sorta thing. And yet somehow you’re sat with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, half asleep as the gory horror film he’d picked plays on. 

It had started that way, to be fair. After a stressful day or on a quick lunch break you’d catch him and pull him into the office. It’s no surprise really that it didn’t take long for the rest of the kitchen to catch on. 

But back to right now, you’re only supposed to be  resting your eyes as you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like kitchen, cigarettes and the new cologne you’d bought for him as his old one was quite frankly disgusting and had irritated your nose. He jolts upright when the screen flashes, knocking you from his shoulder and rudely pulling you out of your slumber. 

“You’re a prick,” you mumble, glowering in his direction before opting for the opposite side of the sofa, the side that wasn’t rude. 

He snorts but quickly realises that you are very serious and very much not happy, “I’m sorry.. come sleep on me again,” pleading with you, “or d’you wanna go to bed?” clicking the pause button on the remote. 

“I wanted to go to bed an hour ago,” grumbling into the cushion as he’d ignored your request and swore that you’d just love this new movie. You didn’t. It was fucking boring. 

“Okay okay, let’s go to bed,” he shuts the television off before standing from the couch, towering over your curled up body, “I’m not fuckin’ carrying you,” already wise to your tricks. 

You groan something incoherently, something deeply offensive to his entire bloodline, before pulling yourself from the couch. “You know, if we’d gone to bed when I’d asked, I would’ve let you put it in my ass,” shrugging innocently before leading the way to your bedroom. 

“Wait what? You didn’t say- I didn’t know that was an option!” speed-walking to catch up with you, incredibly eager to figure out if this offer was still on the table. 

It was not. 

“Yup, shame really.. you should probably listen to me more,” clambering into the unmade bed with the tiniest smirk on your face. 

He’s not far behind, leaping into your bed, “we can still do that though, right? It’s only..” glancing at your alarm clock, “..two” he doesn’t even sound sure of himself. 

“Nope,” pulling the blanket over your shoulders, purposely choosing to face the other way, “you missed your chance buddy.” 

-

Whoever had done the ordering (you) had royally fucked up and left tomatoes off of the list. So as a consequence of your stupidity, you were now in Bradley’s trying to balance ten packets of stupid fucking tomatoes in your arms. 

You’re not even looking where you're going, too focused on not dropping the damn horrid red things as you skulk through the store. It’s already too late when you bash the elbow of some innocent bystander, knocking multiple packets to the ground. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grumble, grabbing at the discarded fruits with your spare hand. 

The kind gentleman had already started to try and balance them back in your arms. You look up to thank the stranger to be met with a face you hadn’t seen since high school. 

“Steve Harrington? I- what the fuck?” you remark, clutching onto the produce so as to not cause another collapse. 

“Holy shit, it’s you,” he’s utterly dumbfounded, staring back at your face in amazement. 

You’re suddenly extremely aware of your dirty uniform and messy hair, eyeing his well pressed suit and just general put-togetherness. His hair still perfectly styled though just a bit shorter now. 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you lived in Indiana anymore?” the last you’d heard of him, his father had sent him away to his office in New York, desperate for his son to have the life he never had. 

“Ah.. well, I do now, bit of a long story,” chuckling awkwardly as he takes the majority of your tomatoes to the counter, lightening the load. 

“Oh well, that’s cool..” you nod to the cashier who asks if you’d like a bag or multiple bags in your case, “I’d love to catch up but I’ve got a bit of a tomato crisis, uh..” digging in your pocket for the company card. 

“Yeah definitely… here let me,” he grabs one of the jam packed bags under his arm, “I’m gonna assume these aren’t all for you?” leading the way to the parking lot. 

“Oh no, I fucking hate tomatoes.. I messed up at work so it’s my job to fix it,” loading the bags into your dusty old car, “here, take my number and we can plan something.. it’s been so long,” grabbing for your phone in your apron. 

“I uh- I actually have your number,” he nods, not bothering to get his own phone out. 

“I’ve changed my number since high school, Steve.” 

“No, yeah I know.. I got it from Robin, I was s’posed to call you when I got back..” rubbing his thumb along his forehead and into his hair, “I’ll give you a call later and we can do something,” smiling softly as he closes your back door. 

“Oh, okay.. yes please call me, I- uh I really have to get back,” sliding into the driver's seat, fumbling with your keys, as you roll the window down to continue the conversation. 

“I will, I hope your tomato crisis.. gets better,” shrugging awkwardly as you start the engine. Wincing at his choice of words. 

“Me fucking too,” rolling your eyes as you pull off, not entirely registering what had just happened, focused on getting these stupid vegetables back to the restaurant. 

It’s not until an unknown number flashes up on your screen that you think about it again. He’d left it until you were right in the middle of stuffing dinner down your throat to call of course. 

“Hello?” you muffle into the phone, chewing on the lukewarm piece of chicken. 

“Hey! It’s Steve.. you said to call so.. I called,” he sounds nervous, like he was calling a stranger and not you. 

“Oh hey.. sorry I’m eating,” covering your mouth as you loudly swallow, “how are you?” 

“Yeah I’m good, hope your crisis turned out okay,” laughing into the receiver. 

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.. thank you for your help, you saved me from squishing a ton of tomatoes.” 

“Of course,” he clears his throat, “would you wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? I take it you’re busy with your.. tomatoes but I’m free pretty much whenever.” 

“Yes.. yes erm-,” you set the phone onto loudspeaker and flit through the bookings for tomorrow, it wasn’t insanely busy and you were sure they would manage without you for an hour or so, “does ten sound good for you?” 

“Ten is perfect,” you can hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you there then, enjoy your dinner,” still sounding as awkward as ever. 

“Okay.. I’ll see you then, then,” making a mental note for tomorrow that you’d probably end up forgetting anyway. 

You end the call, locking your phone and finally giving all your attention to the cold plate of food in front of you. 

“Who was that?” Eddie appears out of nowhere, frowning as he walks into the office. 

“Hmm? Oh, my friend Steve,” devouring the chicken without a second thought as to why he was even questioning it. 

“Your friend? That you’re going for coffee with…?” 

“Were you listening to my conversation?” blinking up at him. 

“No.. I overheard you- don’t change the subject, you’re ditching work for a date?” he’s scowling, coming to perch on the desk. 

“It’s not a date,” you warn, prodding the fork into his rib, “he’s a friend from school and we’re catching up while it’s quiet tomorrow, is that okay with you?” shaking your head, not that you were genuinely asking for his approval. 

He narrows his eyes, “I suppose..” he takes the fork from your hand, helping himself to your dinner, “it’s just coffee?” asking tentatively as his greedy ass tucks in. 

“Oh my God yes, it’s just coffee,” he was incredibly jealous for someone who was not your boyfriend. 

“Okay okay.. sheesh, no need to get defensive.. date whoever you want,” shrugging as if he couldn’t care less. 

“You’re the one getting jealous, not my fault you never ask me to go for coffee.” 

“Because we spend every waking moment together anyway,” repetitively banging his heel into the desk, irritating you to no end. “But I’ll make sure to ask you to go for coffee from now on.. don’t want some loser taking my place.” 

You huff, pulling the plate away from his greedy hands, “are you done?” 

He shuffles backwards, still picking at your food despite your obvious attempts to get it away from him. “Okay okay.. I’m done.” 

Eddie, in fact, does not drop it. 

He’s still pouting when you climb into bed, sighing to himself like a pathetic old dog. Except now, he’d become desperate and slightly weird about it. Making all sorts of promises and hypothetical dates for you two to go on. 

“Why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow? I’ll even pay,” walking his fingers along your side. 

“Eddie please, can you stop? Who am I in bed with right now? Because it’s not Steve, I can tell you that,” exasperated by his incessant attempts to piss you off. 

“Okay.. okayy,” retiring this tired bit for the night at long last, “you’re still taking me to work, right?” settling his hand on your waist, cuddling into your back. 

“Yes, you bum,” switching the lamp off before setting your head on the pillow. 

“I’m not a bum,” feeling him frown against your back, “it’s not my fault you refuse to get in my van.” 

“It’s a death trap, I’d rather risk walking along the highway,” smiling into the darkness. 

“Yeah whatever, good night,” he mumbles, pretending to be pissed off until you feel the tiniest, sweetest kiss to your shoulder. 

-

You’re running late, as usual. Something about the bookings being fucked for tonight meaning you were either going to have a full restaurant or have absolutely no one show up. 

It didn’t matter to you, not right now anyway because you’re jogging along the sidewalk to get to the dang café before Steve thinks you’ve abandoned him.  

You’re huffing and puffing when you shove open the door, making a royal fool of yourself as anyone would believe you’ve just sprinted in a marathon to get here. 

Steve jolts up the second he hears the door go, giving you a small wave from his table in the corner. It’s a relief that he hadn’t just up and left considering you were fifteen minutes late. 

“I am so so sorry,” you say hurriedly, sliding into the other chair, “another crisis and obviously I’m the only one who’s capable of fixing things so..” you stop your rambling to look at him properly, “sorry- you don’t care, shit did you order?” 

He chuckles nervously, “yeah.. I didn’t know what you wanted so I didn’t get you anything,” he stands up, “what d’ya get?” 

“Uhh a cappuccino would be great.. thanks,” setting your bag down on the vacant chair beside you. 

You chat about nothing and everything for a while until Steve turns the conversation back to high school. Now, you and Steve had a weird relationship during high school; hung around the same group, had a massive crush on the guy and was pretty certain that he at least liked you too. It had just never amounted to anything. 

“I remember in school, you always used to cook shit for us.. it’s crazy that you’ve got your own restaurant now,” shaking his head in slight disbelief. 

You’d bring tupperware full to the brim with whatever random shit you’d cooked up the night before. Forcing your friends to eat it and share their opinions no matter how harsh they could be. 

“It’s not really my restaurant,” sipping the cappuccino he’d kindly bought, “I just run it and make sure it doesn’t burn down or go bankrupt,” laughing to yourself. 

“So it’s technically yours..” fingers fiddling around with the empty sugar packet, “I’ll have to come by sometime, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” 

“I mean, I could probably get you in tomorrow.. if you wanted?” 

“Well yeah, that sounds great,” smiling earnestly across the table. 

“Great! I’ll text you the details later but you should definitely bring your wife, I’d love to meet her,” you vaguely remember seeing the extravagant wedding pictures on Facebook a few years back. 

You hadn’t paid much attention as to who he’d married just recalled noticing the absolutely gargantuan manor house in the back and how stunning her dress was. 

His smile fades and his mouth opens to speak but doesn’t manage to squeeze anything out. You get the feeling that that might have been the wrong thing to say. Immediately wanting to slide down your seat and hide under the table. 

Steve takes it well though, laughing softly, “Ah.. not anymore but uh- thank you for bringing that back up,” playfully shaking his head. 

“Oh no, oh my God.. I’m sorry,” grimacing because of your big fat mouth, “I thought I’d seen it on Facebook but maybe that wasn’t you.. oh fuck.” 

“No.. it probably was me, we just- yeah not anymore,” wiggling his empty hand in your direction, only just now are you noticing the lack of a ring. 

“I’m sorry,” smiling apologetically, “I’ve gotta ask though.. what happened?” 

He sits back in his chair, preparing for the absolute novel of a story he was about to tell, “well, my dad moved me to New York, wanted me to learn how to be a man or whatever,” waving his arms about, “and I met the love of my life- I thought I met the love of my life.. we got married and it was great for a little while but she..” he inhales, recalling the still bitter memories, “..obviously didn’t feel the same way,” you’re sat eager eyed, waiting for the real gossip, “she was fucking her boss.. whole time.” 

“Shittt…” baring your teeth in a pained expression, “that’s awful Steve, I’m so sorry,” gingerly patting his outstretched arm, “what a bitch.” 

He nods along, “yeah she is,” his fingers drum a rhythm into the table, “that’s why I’m back here… I’m sick of New York.” 

“God,” guilt rising into your chest for being the one to bring that back up, “at least you’re home now, right? Must be nice seeing everyone again,” your eyes flitting to your phone that had lit up for the umpteenth time. 

eds:) : when r u coming back?? 

eds:) : helloooo? 

eds:) : stop fucking ur boyfriend and come back 2 work 

eds:) : i’m being serious now we need u 

Steve follows your gaze to your phone screen, realising that you’d been sitting here for a while now and he’d just pulled you from your work to talk about his messy divorce. “Work?” 

You look back at him, “yeah.. I’m gonna have to run, but I’ll get you a table for tomorrow,” pushing your chair back, grabbing for your bag, “bring whoever.. I’ll text you the details!” offering him a small smile as you rush out of the busy cafe not bothering to wait for his reply. 

-

Eddie is just as irritating as expected when you get back, hanging off of your arm the second you walk in the door. 

“So, you just had coffee? You were gone a long time, man,” an attempt to play off his jealousy, though it was hardly working. 

“Don’t call me man, and yep, just coffee. Like I’ve said a hundred times before,” hanging up your bag and tying the apron around your waist. 

“Right.. he wasn’t tryna do anything though, was he? ‘Cause I can tell him straight if you need me to,” hanging around your ankles like a lost puppy dog. 

“He’s in the middle of a divorce. I don’t think you need to do anything, big boy,” gently patting his arm. 

“Ohh so that’s why he’s back and trying to fuck you now.. I get his game.” 

You turn to face him, sandwiched between his body and the rusty lockers, “will you just relax? Please,” running your hands down his chest. 

Eddie frowns slightly, but nods, “he’s got nothin’ on me anyway..” a silhouette of a smirk forming on his face, “you know who’s givin’ it to ya good,” planting his lips on yours before you get the chance to express your utter disgust. 

You’re smiling when he pulls back but push him away from you regardless, “do not ever say that shit to me again,” tightening the straps around your waist, walking away from the freak and into whatever hell awaits you in the kitchen.  

-

It’s not very surprising that Steve comes in alone, your heart aches a little seeing him sat at the table on his own. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is watching your face with a foul scowl on his. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you announce that you’re going to see how he is, practically snarling at the thought. 

He knows the dish in front of him is Steve’s order, he’d audibly criticised the fact that Steve had removed the mushrooms from his food, is he a fucking toddler or something? 

His eyes dart around the room, pursing his lips as he prepares to maybe just let the glob of spit fall out of his mouth and accidentally into Steve’s childish dinner. 

“Don’t,” Tina’s hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his despicable plans in motion. 

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” he protests, glowering at his co-worker. He definitely was going to do it and she knew it. 

“Leave him alone,” flashing him that universally understood look that tells him not to even dare, “can you blame her, though? Meow,” grinning as her eyes flicker to you and Steve through the tiny window. 

Eddie kisses the back of his teeth, whipping the dish towel at her, “ha ha very funny,” she’s desperate to rile him up as much as possible, taunting him with her mean quips. 

His eyes slide to the window, met with the image of you absolutely cracking up at something Steve had said. It was the kinda laugh he loved to force out of you, usually late at night when you were overly tired and a little hazy. Unheard by most people. It was a slight comfort to know that Steve definitely wasn’t that funny, he could almost bank on it. 

It’s like torture watching the pair of you interact for what feels like forever. Pulling his eyes away, deciding to go for a cigarette instead of putting himself through any more of that. 

The air outside is still, it’s getting colder again but it seemed like Indiana was still hanging onto the dregs of summer; the sky illuminated with streaks of pink and orange. Maybe that’s what he was doing? Desperately clawing to keep your thing alive all the while you were trying to wriggle out of it. 

He’s harshly pulled out of his self-pitying cloud, “Eddie?” you call out of the door, bounding over to where he was slouched against the brick wall, “thank you for doing that.. he said it’s great,” your toothy grin making an appearance. 

Eddie grunts something in response, trying desperately not to think of you smiling at Steve like that. 

“What? You okay? Why’re you being weird?” 

“I’m not being weird,” he shrugs, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t help it, his heart twisting and contorting with every mention of that prick's name. 

“Yes you are,” sighing softly, “you’re actually jealous? I thought you were just joking,” stepping toward him as he throws the cigarette to the floor. 

His eyes eventually find yours, “I’m not.. jealous,” curling his finger into the bow of your apron strap, using it to pull you in, “I don’t get jealous,” another blatant lie. 

“Mhm is that right?” you giggle, his behaviour over the past few days had proven that statement to be false. Wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek begins to rest on his chest. 

Desperately trying to convince himself that this is a sign. That if you’d really wanted to, you’d be in there, doing this with Steve. But you’re not. You’re here. You’re clinging onto him and everything is fine. 

-

The door handle at the front of the store rattles a couple times before whoever is behind it gives up and knocks, you all look at each other slightly confused before Eddie takes the plunge and goes to answer. You’re standing behind the counter with a guarded expression, not prepared for whatever crazy was trying to get in at stupid o’clock in the morning. 

Steve is standing behind the open door with an apologetic smile, holding up a takeaway cup obviously bought for you. Eddie is less than thrilled, skulking back into the kitchen with the most horrendous scowl plastered on his face. 

“I’m sorry.. I should’ve text first,” kicking the door shut behind him, offering out the warm cup for you to take. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, “yeah.. that would’ve been a good idea, thank you though,” gladly taking his offering. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night, I didn’t catch you before I left so thought I’d stop by,” sipping on his own coffee, poised in the middle of the restaurant floor. 

Eddie’s stood leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the front of house, arms crossed against his chest. Disapproving glare set solidly on Steve. 

“Yeah absolutely, I’m glad you liked it,” smiling fondly at the man, sipping appreciatively on your cappuccino. 

“I uh- I have a question for you,” his eyes flit to Eddie who was still stood with his eyes narrowed, scowling, “in private.. if that’s alright?” 

You spin to look at Eddie, nodding towards the back, “I’ll meet you in my office in a minute,” shooing him off, “please.” 

He snarls back at you, looking back over his shoulder to shoot daggers into Steve before eventually disappearing into the kitchen. For someone acting so jealous, you’d think you’d have been in a committed relationship for years. 

Rolling your eyes as you trundle closer to Steve, “ignore him.” 

“He a handful?” 

“Mm and a mouthful sometimes,” perching on one of the tables, totally oblivious to your innuendo. 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, blinking ferociously as you finally catch on. 

“Oh no- I just meant he’s like.. rude,” stumbling over your words, cheeks beginning to burn. 

“I know what you meant,” Steve assures, though he looked a little flustered himself. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, “just continue,” rolling your hand, desperate for him to forget you’d opened your mouth.

He clears his throat, “so I was talking to my buddy.. he owns Garson’s in the city and he was saying there’s a spot opening for a sous,” glancing at you, “I just mentioned your name and I’ll give you his number but he said he’d love to meet you,” his mouth twitching into a smile. 

Well, that was not at all what you were expecting.  

In fact, it was a massive curveball ball that you’d not rehearsed a response to. 

Garson’s was insane, they’d just earned their first star and everybody who was anybody was trying to get a reservation. It would be career defining to even stage there. 

“Oh wow… Steve I actually don’t know how to reply to that,” placing your coffee onto the table in fear of dropping it on the floor. 

“Well obviously think about it, I’ll text you his details later, he seemed pretty eager to get someone in so.. don’t take too long,” drumming his fingers onto the table. 

“Yeah.. right, holy shit,” you remark, trying to take it all in. It’s unclear what to even say to him in this situation, thank you seemed too small but slathering his face in kisses was probably a step too far. 

“I gotta go, let me know what you decide,” his smile honest and genuine as he grabs his coffee and heads to the door. 

Just before he slips out, you jump back into action, “thank you!” beaming with pure unadulterated joy. 

He nods, disappearing into the street as the door slams shut behind him. 

You can barely contain yourself, practically skipping through the kitchen to go and find Eddie who you were absolutely certain was not going to share the same level of excitement you possessed. 

“What’s got you so happy? He ask you out on a real date finally?” turning up his nose without you saying a word. 

“Noo..” you chime in, still riding the high, kicking the door shut behind you, traipsing over to rest your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, “so.. Steve said there’s a position going in Garson’s and it’s basically mine if I want it..” struggling to contain your grin. 

His hands falter, brushing down your sides to now hang limp beside him, “what?” Unsure if what he had heard had been correct. 

“There’s a job at Garson’s and it’s basically mine.. isn’t that great?” grabbing at the back of his neck. You were expecting a little more happiness than this, you can’t lie. 

He looks almost offended. Features screwed up in pure confusion, as if you’d insulted his mother. “So you’re leaving? Some fancy job pops up from your fancy pants boyfriend and you’re suddenly abandoning us?” 

“Wha- no? I’m not abandoning anybody,” removing your arms from his shoulder, “this is an opportunity to actually do something with my career, show everyone what I’m capable of,” you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just pretend to be happy for you. 

He stands up, the chair making a god-awful noise behind him, “so you get to come in here, change everything and then jump ship as soon as something better comes along?” eyes that once looked at you with pure adoration now full of disgust. 

You’re gobsmacked. Utterly speechless that he was acting like such a petulant jerk. You hadn’t seen this side of him since that night so many months ago in this very office. 

“Eddie, what has got into you? This is good news! You didn’t expect me to stay here forever, did you?” 

“I don’t know,” exasperated, “I just didn’t expect you to run to the next best thing so soon,” he looks venomous, mean. 

“I’m not! He’s my friend and he’s helping me out.. why are you being like this?” he may as well have torn your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of you. 

Eddie scoffs, running a hand over his mouth, “your friend… who you haven’t spoken to in years suddenly has this great new job for you and has absolutely no ulterior motive? Ha, right.” 

It finally clicks in your brain, he doesn’t really give a shit whether you stay or go. This was about hating Steve and being a jealous loser despite still not asking you to be his girlfriend. 

“That’s what this is about? You think Steve.. what? That he wants to fuck me? You’re pathetic, do you know that?” 

“It’s not about that,” raising his voice, chest puffed out. This was the Eddie you’d met and hated six months ago. You were sure you’d never have to deal with that prick again. “I don’t.. I don’t care what or who you do, I just think you’re a traitor and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.” 

Your face falls, blinking rapidly as the tears prick in your eyes. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat. He could be an evil prick when he wanted to be and before, it never would’ve upset you this much. But now it felt personal, like you’d let him in only for him to use everything you’d told him against you. 

“Get out,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction at least, waiting until the door is slammed in your face to let them fall. 

Humiliated and utterly pathetic as you flop into the chair, letting the tears fall free. 

If he was trying to convince you to stay, then he’d failed. Majorly. 

-

You’re hidden in the office for the remainder of the day. Courtesy of Eddie’s horrible words. 

And he’s just a ray of sunshine in the kitchen. Clattering about as he drops pans, recklessly launching knives and utensils onto the counter. 

Marcus has had enough of his tantrum, tapping on his shoulder, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” steering Eddie towards the back alley. 

He slides down the brick wall, cigarette poised between his lips while Marcus mouths something to the rest of the beady eyed staff. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks, he’s genuine but stern. Has talked the boy down a multitude of times but this seemed different. 

“She’s fucking leaving..” blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, “some stuck up restaurant that dickhead Steve got her into.. that’s what’s wrong with me.” 

Marcus’ mouth opens but doesn’t speak, deciding to get down to Eddie’s level, perching next to him on the floor, “and why’s that made you so angry? She break up with you as well or somethin’?” struggling to understand why he cares so much. 

“No,” Eddie glowers at the floor, “you can’t break up if you’re not together. I’m just.. I’m pissed off, she came in here.. changed everything and now she gets to just move on like it’s nothing.” 

Poor Marcus is trying to piece it all together in his head. Settling on the only sensible conclusion that maybe whatever was going on between you and him was perhaps a hell of a lot deeper than either of you were admitting. 

“So.. you’re pissed that she made this shithole better? You sure that’s it?” questioning the validity of Eddie’s anger. 

“What’re you tryna say?” Eddie snaps, gritting his teeth together. How dare Marcus not believe his incredibly flimsy words? 

“That you’re not really angry ‘cause she’s moving on, you’re pissed because of this new guy and you think he’s.. he’s gonna take your spot or something? I can see right through you bro,” clapping his hand emphatically on Eddie’s shoulder, having caught him red handed. 

Eddie glares at the man, snarling but unable to respond. Because he was right. Eddie is a pathetic, insecure loser who can’t bring himself to just admit to you that he was jealous of Steve. It was easier for him to just make you hate him than to be honest with you about how he felt, at least that way you didn’t have the opportunity to shut him down. You couldn’t reject him if you didn’t know. 

“You’re gonna fuck this up forever if you keep acting like this,” Marcus sighs, getting up from the floor, “get in there and apologise or you’ll just push her right into his arms and I really don’t wanna deal with you if that happens,” flashing him a stern but well-meaning glare before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

His eyes squeeze shut, and as much as he didn’t want to hear that, he knew he was right. Self-sabotage had always been his forte except this time he was truly terrified of the possibility of losing you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.  

-

There’s a quiet knock on your office door and you’re just about prepared to bite the head off of whoever dares to disturb you. 

“Come in,” you bark, dropping the pen onto the desk in frustration. 

A very meek Eddie peeks around the door, testing the waters to decide if it’s safe to fully come in without you throwing something at him.

Nothing collides with his head so he pushes the door open, holding onto a plate of pasta he’d made especially for you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, still deciding on the right words to say. 

“You haven’t eaten all day..” he decides on, gingerly placing the plate in front of you on the desk, “you don’t have to eat it but don’t throw it away,” stepping back from the desk with extreme caution. 

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting the kind gesture, blinking at the delicious food in front of you. “Can I have a fork..?” 

“Shit yes I got one,” digging in his apron pocket for the utensil, laying it down next to the plate gently. 

“Thank you,” you nod, poking your fork into the food. It is delicious and it was still warm which is an even better bonus. 

He smiles slightly, “I wanted to say.. I’m sorry for being an asshole, you should..” trailing off into silence, swallowing the lump in his throat, “you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity,” reassuring himself even if he didn’t quite believe it. 

You chew slowly, apprehensive about his sudden change in attitude. This surely hadn’t been a conclusion he’d reached on his own and you wonder just who in the kitchen had given him a pep talk before sending him in here. You appreciated it nonetheless. As weird and complicated as you guys were, you weren’t quite ready to give it up already. 

“Really?” you look up, trying to gauge his reaction. It was evident that he was putting on a brave front and he still had some apprehensions about it all but for you he was willing to ignore them. 

Your heart swells. Which makes you feel a little sick. In a good way though, well, you think so anyway. 

“Yeah.. you’re a great chef and you deserve better than this shithole,” one side of his mouth twisting into a smile. The words are heavy and difficult to get out, but they’re true. He means it and would really do anything to ensure you were happy. Even if it did mean swallowing his pride and letting you follow that douchebag Steve. 

You stand from your chair, rushing over to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you..” resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead. 

He was going to miss these little moments the most, he thinks. Shaking his head slightly when his mind flits to the thought of you in some other kitchen doing this with someone other than him. 

“You want some food? Don’t wanna eat this whole thing myself,” pulling away from his grip, motioning back towards your desk. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” masking the ache in his heart with a sloppy grin. 

If his uncle had taught him anything, it was that you had to make sacrifices for the people you loved. Or thought you loved. Whatever. 

-

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show his stupid little face again and it irks Eddie to know that you were probably texting with him this entire time. Getting excited about this new position with another man. Blergh. It was knocking him sick. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder to give Eddie a small glance, smiling ever so tenderly as you disappear into your office. That should be enough confirmation that he truly had nothing to worry about. It was just a job. Oh God, what if you find someone else to bicker with? Look what had happened to you two. 

That sicky feeling returns and he wants to bolt. But he doesn’t, he’s big and brave and instead chooses to focus on finely dicing some onions until you reemerge from your office. Whenever the fuck that would be. 

It must be a whole half an hour before Steve walks through the kitchen, giving Eddie a sly pat on the back on the way out. Smug prick. He just grips the knife tighter, waiting for you to confirm that you’d be gone next week and that he should really start moving on before you left. 

“Ed’s can I talk to you outside?” your voice snaps him out of his pity party, giving the rest of the crew what looked like a sympathetic smile, you’d tell all of them the bad news later. 

He knew this was it. You were about to lay it all bare, tell him it’s okay, maybe we can still be friends? I hope you understand but I have to go and work at this fancy restaurant with my fancy high school boyfriend, sorry! 

Reluctantly walking into the alley way, the alley way you’d shared many sneaky kisses, reassuring words and that one time you’d got carried away and almost gave him a hand job right then and there. It was painful, the once comforting aura of the brick walls had since vanished. 

He’s already bracing for the worst, keeping his back to you as he walks further down the path. It’s the only way he could be sure that he wouldn’t end up begging on his knees for you to stay. And even then he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. 

“Will you look at me?” your voice echoing through his veins. 

He does, turning on his heel excruciatingly slow. Bottom lip starting to sting as his teeth cut into the skin. 

“When are you going?” solemn and miserable, honestly trying his hardest not to start pleading with you. 

“Never,” shaking your head, “I’m staying here,” feeling incredibly smug. You looked it too, nose scrunched up as you grin at him. 

Fuck. He’s not even sure if he’s heard that right. But the blood rushes back through his body and he almost crumbles, falling to his knees to thank whichever being up there had answered his prayers. The glum look he’d seemed to possess had vanished, grinning like a fucking maniac as he bounds over to you. One minute you’re on the floor and the next you’re being spun around, his arms almost crushing you. 

“What? Why’d you change your mind? I- fuck I’m so happy,” setting you back on solid ground, much to your relief. 

“Well, the thing is.. there’s this guy who works here, he’s a bit of an asshole but for some reason I really like him and he’s convinced me to stay,” fingers digging into his biceps, still afraid that you might become airborne at any moment. 

There’s not time to catch your breath before he’s crashing his lips into yours with great force, sending you flying backwards against the wall. His hands grabbing at anything he could touch, travelling the length of your body to brace your cheeks. Keeping you steady, making sure this was actually real. Christ, he thinks he loves you. 

Scrap that, he’s fucking certain that he loves you. 

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Joel Miller Headcanons (and a handful of Ellie Williams ones too) Part 1/?

Temple kisser. The man cannot go five minutes without pressing a kiss against your temple. Even if you’re super busy, he will find a way to siddle up next to you and plant a kiss on your temple

The best listener. If all you want to do is rant about the terrible day you had, he will sit there and just let you ramble on, and he’ll only interject with things to spur you on, like “that bitch!” or “you’re kidding!”

He’s actually a pretty decent chef. He’s not Michilin-level, but he can churn out a good hearty meal if given the correct time, ingredients, and tools. He even wears a dorky apron you and Ellie found for him that says “Kiss the Cook” on it

He’s finally embraced puns and dad jokes, and it’s one of the main things he bonds with Ellie over. Whenever he hits her with one she’s never heard and she falls over laughing, a very smug smile spreads across his face for like 5 seconds before he’s back to “business mode”

Legitimately MELTS when you compliment or praise him for the smallest things. Like if you tell him, “Green’s a really good color on you, Babe”, his ears turn bright red and he grumbles “Aw, stop” while waving you off. Or if you say, “Dinner was really good tonight, Honey”, he flushes pink and mutters “Ah, it was nothin special”. You’re still working on getting him to accept compliments

Usually when you’re sharing a bed, he’s the big spoon and he holds you as close to his chest as he physically can, but if it’s been a really rough day for him, you don’t think twice about wrapping your arms around his middle and making him be the little spoon

He usually calls you Sunshine, Darlin, Honey, or Gorgeous, but sometimes if he’s feeling adventurous, he likes to bust out a new pet name you’ve never heard before to see how you react. It still brings a smile to his face when he remembers how your whole body turned red when he called you “Sugar” one time

He loves sitting and looking at the night sky with you and Ellie, because you always point out the constellations to her and tell her the stories behind them while she’s totally enraptured. He just loves being with his girls whenever he can

You found an old record player and a bunch of old records, so every now and again when you notice he's getting kinda tense, you force him to dance with you. He pretends he’s annoyed, but he’s a sentimental old fool at heart, and he can’t help but hold you close as Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong croon “Dream a Little Dream of Me”

He’s terrible about remembering to drink water, and he finally starts carrying a canteen with him wherever he goes after you give him a twenty minute lecture on dehydration and UTIs

He loves sitting with you and watching you read, because he can always tell what’s happening in your book by the little sounds or faces you make. If you let out a quick exhalation through your nose, something funny happened. If a tiny groan escapes your throat, the main character did something stupid. If your eyebrows scrunch together and then fly up to your forehead, you just put together the plot twist. And so on and so forth

Since Ellie came along, you like to tease him that she’s resharpening his dad senses. He rolls his eyes whenever you do, but he silently agrees with you every time he subconsciously throws out an arm to stop her from walking into something dangerous, or automatically responds with “Go ask your mother” to whatever she asks him

He’s not much of a hand-holding kind of guy (unless it’s been a rough day and he’s feeling touch-starved), so his favorite way to walk with you is when you wrap your arms around his and lean against him slightly

When his PTSD decides to very aggressively announce its presence, the only thing that can calm him down and ground him is if you hold him against your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat, because he needs reassurance that you're there and alive

He struggles sometimes with verbalizing how much he loves you and cares about you, so you two figured out a non-verbal system to help him when he can't put it into words. If he points to his eye, then his heart, then you, that means "I love you". If he squeezes your hand or taps your arm or shoulder three times: "I need you", three tugs on your shirt or belt loops: "I want you", and a bunch of other signals. So whenever he's having what Ellie calls a "rough word day", you use that system

Sometimes he leans into the "old man" thing to annoy Ellie. He'll hobble around and say "Oh, my back! Ellie, get my cane!", or when Ellie asks him about what it was like before the outbreak, he'll start his story with "Back in my day..." just to hear her groan. He gets a kick out of it

Snores like a fuckin' hibernating bear. Like actually. It's a problem. You need to prop him up with like four pillows to get him to stop.

He likes surprising you with little things to make you smile. If you like to garden, he'll put together a little basket or seed packets and tools and leave it where you can find it. And he always leaves a little note with whatever surprise he leaves you that says, "Hope you like it -Joel", and it always brings a smile to your face

[hello-nichya-here]

What are your thoughts on MJ's daughter supporting Israel and trying to distance herself from her dad? Girl won't even defend him

Jesus fucking Christ, are you guys coordinating these asks? This is the third time one of you asked me it, I'm legit impressed.

Let's get the easy, and horrible part out of the way first: nobody on the fucking planet has any excuse to support Israel. You can hate Hamas and the goverments of countries like Iran without excusing the literal genocide of civilians in Palestine, because yes, that's what Israel is doing right now.

Paris Jackson (and everyone else, famous or not, that is still pretending Israel isn't commiting all kinds of crimes against humanity right now) should have known better and needs to get her shit together.

Now, onto the messy part:

Although Paris has recently said "it's not her role/place" to defend her dad, lets not forget the other things she said on that same controversial statement:

1 - She fully believes her father is innocent and called the "documentary" Leaving Neverland pure lies.

2 - She believes that everything that could be said about her father's innocence has been said already and she'd have nothing new to add to the conversation.

3 - Her cousin Taj has become basically the leader of the family's campain to clear Michael's name and has been doing an amazing job.

4 - She's not as patient as her father was to deal with that kind of stuff and she has been focusing more on trying to recover from her mental health issues.

That last one is important, specially when we remember that Paris has claimed to have been sexually abused in school (which left her with PTSD), and that she has struggled with addiction, paranoia and a freaking suicide attempt.

It would not be surprising to me if having to listen to allegations of childhood sexual abuse is extremelly triggering for her - especially since the person being accused of being the abuser is her late father, who was murdered by his doctor when she was just 10-years-old, and she was treated like a stupid child in denial everytime she tried to point out the things being said about him were not true.

Considering she has continued to praise her father over the years, both with small things like posting a family picture on Father's day this year and big things like saying he was a super accepting man that was totally cool with her not being straight, and DID defend him publically every now and then, like, once again, calling "Leaving Neverland" pure lies when it came out, I'd say she's not really trying to distance herself from her dad or imply she's starting to think he might have been guilty. I think she just genuinely cannot fucking stand having to act as his lawyer only to have every word she says ignored, no matter how much evidence she offers to back it up.

(And before anyone brings up the fact that Taj was also a victim of sexual abuse in his childhood and has is still speaking out in support of his uncle, including of how he helped him deal with his trauma, keep in mind that people cope differently and heal at different paces).

Do I think she could have phrased some things better? Yes.

If either of my parents were accused of something horrible and a bunch of people kept insisting they were guilty despite all evidence poiting to the contrary, would I interact with said celebrities? No, and it is extremelly disappointing whenever Paris does that...

... But then again, Michael was at war with his record label, Sony, for years and was convinced they were not only sabotaging his career but also trying to murder him, yet he still was ready to go on a final tour that was going to make them A LOT of money. Like father, like daughter.

Honestly, I would not blame the entire Jackson family if they just made one last big documentary to try and clear Michael's name, then, regardless of how it was taken, packed all their shit and moved to a remote island, far away from the spotlight and never spoke to any journalist or had any social media presence again. They've been getting screwed over and surrounded by awful people in the industry, the media, and amongst other celebrities since the goddamn sixties, it's a miracle anyone of them is still trying to "play the game" or explain themselves.

[delinquentbookworm]

Every point you made is absolutely correct. Also, I'm greatly enjoying the concept that there is one (1) moment when Jace does something that actually impresses Fabian. It's when they leave all the cities and they're out in the wilderness, and Jace is dying for some caffeine and he knows everyone else probably is too so he conjures a bunch of cortados out of thin air. And Fabian is like "Ah! Excellent! See, this is why we brought you!"

Which just pisses Jace off more, that that's the thing he did that this kid appreciates, that he's now seen as just a walking drinks vendor.

Going back up to the earlier reblog now I've gotten the thought of an absolutely livid Jace ranting to a very bored Porter out of my head.

I think it's very on brand for Adaine to resist the stuff he's saying, which is unfortunate because a lot of what Jace teaches his sorcery students (esp the Wild Magic lot) could probably help a lot with anxiety. Like there's a lot of emotional regulation and self-soothing and getting better at noticing what's going on within your body so you can notice symptoms before they flare up into a full blown attack.

Jace's response to Ayda visibly not liking him is to get even more chill and nice (so, even more fake), which probably confuses Ayda more, like 'I have told this man to his face that I do not trust or like him, why is he still here and why is he still smiling?'

Jace gives Gorgug so much praise and thanks for getting the satellite working, like there's just a sweet moment between them where they're both bonding over their partners being so far away and how hard it is, and how relieved they both are that they can finally speak to them again. I think Gorgug is kind of awkward at first about Jace mentioning Porter, like he's scared he'll offend Jace if he clocks onto the fact that Gorgug doesn't really like Porter. But when Gorgug does finally say something, Jace replies like "I really don't blame you. I mean, I love the man, but that doesn't mean I approve of the way he teaches." (It turns out that Bitching About Porter is one of Jace's favourite passtimes and he and Gorgug just get into it. "And he's so fucking creepy!" "So creepy! It's just a constant villain monologue, from the moment he wakes up!")

On the other NPCs, I think he and Sandra Lynn find some common ground, despite the antagonism that came from competing over Garthy. They're both aware that they probably wouldn't be friends outside of this forced interaction, but while they're here they can share a drink and swap wild stories whenever they're on watch together.

Jace hates Gilear, but Gilear is convinced that Jace is actually a very good friend. Which doesn't help the Gilear 2.0 allegations, when Gilear is so buddy-buddy with him.

Jace manages to convince Ragh that the invisible person that Ragh saw him speaking to on the night of the Prompocalypse was Eugenia Shadow. (He doesn't say her name, just calls her the rogue teacher, and explains that she was invisible because of the whole catch-me-if-you-can thing, which Riz confirms is legit.)

Jace quietly high-key relates to Tracker's struggle of putting way more into the relationship than she's getting back, but he keeps that shit to himself.

Jace would be fascinated by Cathilda and low-key convinced she's some kind of spy or double agent, because he can't fathom how someone with so much skill would just be content with being someone's maid. But then they chat (maybe while Jace subtly has Detect Thoughts going) and he realises like 'oh, this isn't a front, she genuinely is as happy as I pretend to be.'

Also, please consider the hilarity of Jace watching Arthur Aguefort GROW TO 500 FEET TALL AND GRAB THE SUN. His first two thoughts are just 'I'm so glad Porter isn't here because he would spend the next week demanding to know why I can't let him do that' and 'oh there's just no way we can kill Aguefort. We just can't.'

Like he knew Aguefort was powerful, he didn't know he was GRAB THE SUN powerful.

Like. I’m living in this au now where the bad kids really did bring Jace in as a hireling for sophomore year. Guilt complex bc of Porter’s Plan is always in the back of his mind, meanwhile guy who has never had responsibilities in his life has to herd the bad kids like cats. He feels terrible the whole time bc adaine actually does kinda connect w him abt their parents being elven assholes who had incredibly high expectations. She somehow finds out abt him failing to wizard multiclass and bc she is adaine she is very ruthless abt giving him a hard time abt it, but in a way that’s actually… kinda affectionate. But she also kinda gets it bc Fig has always been naturally good at everything she tries but she’s not the most studious. And hey, fig is great. Fabian experiences a real genuine failure for like the first time after years of being told he was destined for greatness and Jace is like. I’m in this fucking picture. I don’t like it.

[pochapal]

The Duality of Self you've noticed in Umineko's characters is pretty interesting! Do you think you could put the characters and what Dualities you've identified in a separate post? I dunno, I think it'd be nice to have them all in one place

sure! i'll list them here for now but i'll also be sure to try and work it into the next writeup whenever i get to it.

so some of the self dualities i've noticed so far are as follows:

-shannon/sayo. probably the most evident self duality given that this girl almost explicitly has two literal selves with different wants, motivations, and emotional responses. shannon is the complicit coping mechanism that lets her endure the horrors, sayo is the repressed outraged true maelstrom of emotions that represents the genuine depths of her desperation.

-george the adult/george the kid. george's main Deal is that he is trying so badly to emulate and assimilate into the Good Businessman Adult role model imposed on him by society and his family. the problem with that of course is that it's a total falsehood mask that does nothing but hurt him when all george really wants to do is have fun and follow his heart in a similar manner to battler.

-natsuhi/ushiromiya natsuhi. natsuhi wants so badly to strive for a hypothetical ushiromiya ideal that she feels she can never reach and because of this despite the fact she's overall pretty good at what she does she denies herself the validation of her identity. rather than realising that ushiromiya natsuhi is literally just the same as regular natsuhi she separates the two and places herself under a burden that is only eased when someone higher up in the hierarchy (kinzo) validates her existence.

-jessica/the ushiromiya heir. jessica fares better than most when it comes to knowing who she is and what she wants but she's equally trapped by the expectation that the rest of her life will be dictated by her being someone she's not. the tension here is that every part of her will never be a true ushiromiya successor and i think she struggles a little with the fact that she Cannot accept herself becoming a person everyone demands that she becomes.

-kanon the human/kanon the furniture. less of an internal struggle because it's pretty clear that motivation wise kanon is not operating out of pure service to kinzo and the household. however, despite all his bitterness and scheming, what is interesting is that kanon only thinks of himself as kanon, his servant's name. he acts in deeply human ways, but he never connects with his more human self.

-maria/witch!maria. not sure what to call this but maria clearly experiences a total shift in expression/self-perception when she gets to enter the world of beatrice and magic. the emulation of what she imagines beatrice to be like is almost a 180 to the version of maria that exists outside this context. even battler remarks on a couple occasions that it's like maria "becomes a completely different person".

-rosa. i don't have a neat name for rosa's dichotomy but there's this definite tension where i think on some level rosa genuinely tries to live up to the Good Aunt And Mother image she projects for everybody to see but her true emotional core, as damaged and spiteful as it is, cannot help but continue to hurt and abuse maria. she pretends to be competent but she's still the weak doormat of the ushiromiya siblings. she can't be who she wants other people to think she is.

-hideyoshi. minor one but hideyoshi's put-upon accent as part of a very deliberate crafting of a facade that doesn't reflect his genuine self when entering into the world of business. his falsehood doesn't extend that far because he's unable to accept a western style of living, so his front will always only ever be shallow.

-nearly all the ushiromiya siblings have their inner child rule their psyche and take over during the conference. decades old power dynamics come to light, and the true messed up part of the argument is that it's essentially a bunch of wounded children scheming to sabotage each other because the damage was never able to heal.

-final one that's not really a dichotomy of self because it's not intrinsic and is also way more than a duality is beatrice. beatrice is a name that is applied to a million and one entities. the ghost story of rokkenjima. the concocted backstory of kinzo's wealth. a war bond. a wealthy sponsor from a bygone age. the golden witch. maria's fantasy. the person sowing the seeds for murder. beatrice as a concept is expressed through so many contradictory facets that it's impossible to draw a clear throughline of what the True Beatrice looks like, if such a person can be said to even exist, or "exist".

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Person She Puts On (1/1)

Title: The Person She Puts On By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: The true, and not entirely fun, story of the 107 one-armed push-ups.

A/N: For Steggy Week Day 7: Free Choice. I forget where this one came from, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. We see Peggy as so impenetrable; I love to see her more vulnerable.

This also lives in my Outside of the Box Universe, so established Steggy during wartime.

Also, nothing here is fact-checked. Nothing here is accurate to any kind of military situation or tent situation whatsoever. Just my imagination.

It is 11:47 PM. This is not Beta’d. I will likely wake up in the morning, horrified, and immediately fix any error I can get my hand on, but for now, I’d like to post this and go to bed. It has been a long month.

~*~

It was, in the end, unfair.

Had Peggy been at the SSR base like she was supposed to have been, she would have had to requalify with the women. She supposed, though, that would have been unfair as well, as she saw much more action than most secretaries and codebreakers and the meager list of physical activities would have been simple.

No, the orders, nonsensical seeing they were in the middle of a war that all members on active duty had to requalify for service before their next mission, happened to come when she was camped out with the 107th somewhere outside of Paris in what could only be described as slightly nicer than a mudhole when it didn’t rain and a soul-sucking abyss when it did.

No, the General waltzed in with his clean Jeep and dry socks and his portfolio full of names, and demanded that every man, and subsequently the only woman, in the camp was run before him before nightfall the next day.

It was a bunch of bureaucratic red tape bullshit, and Phillips had told General Beckett that in those same exact words.

It didn’t get any of them out of running the 300 yards, doing the squat jumps, squishing mud into their hair with sit-ups, slipping off the rain-soaked bar for pull-ups, or completing as many push-ups as they could once they were exhausted.

Beckett sat like a King in his viewing tent as line after line of men had passed in front of him, his Sergeants barking orders and counting off as the exhausted men fell at their feet.

The 107th was a large group of men, and though it was only a portion of them, it took nearly all day to get through them. By the end of the day, with threat levels low and nothing to do but try to stay dry, the men had gathered to watch each other try to get through the grueling tests, and yell taunts to amuse themselves.

Peggy had initially volunteered to go in the first group, hoping the early hour would have deterred onlookers and kept the ground at least somewhat firm. Instead, she was listed last, with the rest of the Howling Commandos.

Steve had put himself at the end of the line, knowing he would have little trouble with any of the activities due to his enhanced abilities. The rest of the Commandos, well, they battered themselves around like a Marx Brother’s movie to not go first at the 300-yard dash. While she would have found it amusing at any other moment, she wanted nothing more than to get this over with. With her hair in a tight knot and her shoes laced as tight as they would go against the mud, she stepped forward.

“Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

The taunts were quiet at first. Little comments like Queen and Your Majesty and low whistles were made while the other Commandos were being tested. She heard them, though, and despite a few strong looks by herself and the Commandos, they didn’t stop.

She’d managed well enough with sit ups, and pretended not to noticed when Barnes and Dugan almost got into a fight with Dawson over some comment she didn’t hear because there was mud starting to pool in her ears each time she went back down.

Beckett was amused by her, called her “spunky” after she’d struggled up through squat jumps as the rain poured down on her and creating a puddle of squelching mud at her feet. He’d laughed when she broke a nail on the pull ups, falling to the ground two short of the qualifying number for men. He said he’d give her a pass between laughs, as he’d never expected her to do even one.

Peggy’d bit her tongue, literally and figuratively, a tried her best not to cry because she hadn’t only broken a nail, it had pulled back half the nailbed and was sending shocks of pain down her hand.

Morita looked at it while Steve tried to draw the attention of the crowd with his pull ups, and Dugan hatched a plan with Barnes. She nearly told them not to, she nearly begged them to stop, but they all needed a win, needed a little fun after sitting in the drenching rain, and they all knew they needed to take the men, who were so beaten down by the situation they seemed to care little for giving any respect anymore, down a peg.

So, Steve shooed the spectators all off the one good platform the men had commandeered to stay out of the mud, slyly convincing Beckett that they could only perform a good push up if they had a firm surface. While not untrue, it also served a flat surface for the entire group, who spread out as if they were called to attention. Bucky gave the signal, and they all dropped down together. He called it out, and Peggy, right in line with all the other Commandos, dropped down and up, completing the ten minimum required pushups.

The crowd that had gathered jeered when they all stopped, but Dugan held up his hand. “We’re gonna make it interesting, yeah?” He looked up at Beckett, smiling. “We all pass, right?”

Beckett frowned, like a displeased King at a disappointing court jester. “You’ve completed the minimum, yes, but I’d rather say I’d have expected better from the infamous Howling Commandos.”

Dugan chuckled. “Oh, you’re getting better.” He looked around, and all the Commandos smiled, knowing what was coming. “Cap’s counting guys, otherwise it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

From their knees they moved their legs a little wider as Steve stood and took his place at the side of the platform. Peggy did so as well, though she couldn’t quite muster up the energy or emotion to smile.

“Men, ready?” Steve called.

“Hoo-ah!” Dugan replied, with a smattering of other yells joining in as they all raised an arm of choice high overhead.

“Set.” Steve called, and they set the one hand down, the other behind their backs, a murmur coming from the crowd. Peggy set her injured hand behind her back, the pinky still throbbing, and thanked whoever was looking down on her that she hadn’t injured her good arm.

“Up!” At his call, they pushed up high onto their toes, Peggy no exception, and waited for Steve’s call of “One!” before lowering themselves, pushing back up in time to his cadence as he continued, “Up, two! Up, three!”

Morita dropped out early, after 27, with a smile on his face that said it was a choice and not a necessity. Jones after 30. Barnes’ hand slipped as it started to drizzle again and he was out with a few choice curses at 31. Happy sat back, shaking his hand and massaging his wrist after 42. Falsworth and Dernier stopped at 50, falling dramatically to the ground. Pinky made it all the way to 76 before his arm literally gave out on him.

And then it was just her and Dugan. 80. 85. 90.

It was easy to tune out the comments and the snickers and focus on Steve’s booming voice, it was easy to make a fist and feel the pain in her pinky instead of the pain in her shoulder with every press up and torturous lower down.

Dugan had said to cough when she’d had enough, and he kept looking over at her, but she refused to yield. She wasn’t giving up until her body literally fell to the ground. She felt the fire of frustration and anger well inside of her, and wasn’t going to yield an inch.

“Fucking hell, Carter.” She heard Phillip’s voice off to the side, but she didn’t stop.

She just kept concentrating on the sound of Steve’s voice, and the way the rain mingled with the sweat dripping down her back. 101. 102. 103.

Dugan fell at 104. He laid on the platform, smiling up at her.

She was shaky, and she knew she didn’t have much more to give, but she wasn’t going to finish with her face in the ground. After the 107 she pressed back to her knees and shrugged, forcing a smirk on her face. “I think that’s enough, don’t you? 107 for the 107th?”

She could see Steve moving towards her to help her up, so she scrambled to her feet under her own power. “Do we pass, General Beckett?” she asked, refusing to look away from his astonished eyes.

“You do,” he replied, eyes tight as he looked at her. She wasn’t sure if he was angry, concerned, embarrassed, or any of a hundred other things, but she knew he was not happy. “Dismissed.”

They started to shuffle away, and she avoided looking at Steve or any of the other Commandos who were enjoying the moment of a little levity, and a lot of showing off.

“How the hell did you do that?” Phillips asked her as she moved swiftly past him. She stopped, even though she was eager to get into the one poorly made women’s shower and get the grime off of her though she was already soaked to the bone. She shrugged, trying to keep herself together for just another minute. “What else are we going to do while we’re sitting around a fire, camped out between missions? The one-armed push up contests have grown quite heated, which is why Captain Rogers and I generally don’t participate anymore.”

She turned, leaving his stunned look behind her. What she didn’t say was that prior to today, she’d only ever topped out at 82, or that most of the guys could have gone right up there to that number with her.

No, she didn’t feel like having a laugh at the moment, or chastising them for not giving it their best, or thanking them for being descent human beings.

No, she just wanted a lukewarm shower and to try to attempt to get dry in the tiny little tent she had at the edge of camp.

She could almost, almost appreciate that it was now quiet in most of camp because of the ruckus at one end. She made it to her tent for new clothes and to the showers without seeing anyone else.

She was thankful, because the rain had stopped and there was no way for her to hide her tears anymore in the rivulets trickling down from the heavens.

She tried to pinpoint the feeling as she shut herself in the little ramshackle tent, stripping the mud-soaked clothes from her body and sitting under lukewarm sprinkles of water that they called shower.

It wasn’t that they’d had to requalify. It was a technicality that was more annoying than upsetting.

It wasn’t the rain or the mud. They’d been living with it for weeks now and she’d almost managed to figure out how to keep herself dry.

It wasn’t even General Beckett sitting there like they were toys for his amusement, though she imagined that was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.

It was that, for once, she’d finally started to feel like she was a part of things. Like she was equal to those around her. Like she mattered. And with just a few sentences, Beckett had allowed all that to be stripped away. He’d allowed the comments in the spectators that none of the Commandos, herself included, could stop while standing in front of a General unless they wanted to be reprimanded themselves. He’d laughed when she’d “broken a nail” and commented on her being a girl.

It reminded her so much of those days before she found Phillips and the SSR, before she’d found a comfortable place to be herself. It was men who didn’t trust her, and didn’t believe in her because she was a woman.

Peggy scrubbed at her skin, the anger growing deep in her belly again. She took slow, deep breaths, focused on getting the mud from between her toes where it seemed to have taken permanent residence. She focused on getting her heartbeat to slow as she untangled her hair and tried to wash the mud out with the little sliver of soap she had left.

By the time she was washed and dried, as clean as she could be in the mudhole they called a camp, she was very nearly calm again.

It was only a few steps back to her tent, and she slipped in quietly, avoiding the continued cheers and hollers from the rest of the camp. She wasn’t sure what was going on and didn’t quiet care, either. All she wanted to do was put her bare feet up, hope their dried before morning, and be by herself so she could find a way to look everyone in the eyes the next day when they started joking about her hanging around with the boys.

“Agent Carter?”

She sighed as she sat heavily on her cot, head hanging. She couldn’t leave him out there, and he’d be even more concerned if she told him to go away.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” she called, very nearly tempted to laugh at their use of rank.

“May I…” He didn’t finish the sentence, and he sounded at least a little contrite.

“Please,” she responded, starting on the laces of her boots.

Steve had been in her tent here, and other places, enough to know to kick off his own boots before stepping anywhere. Even though the mud and dirt seemed to multiply, she did the best she could to keep her little space clean. “You left quick,” he said as he reached down, unlacing his boots. There were little mended spots all along his socks and they were just the wrong side of damp, and she softened just the littlest bit. He seemed so larger than life, sometimes it was easy to forget he was going through the same hell they all were.

“I was over the pageantry of it all.” She sighed and looked over her feet, soft and wrinkled from the muddy conditions and her shower, but finally free of mud.

He stepped in closer, carefully shedding his rain-soaked jacket and set it by the flap of the tent. “Where’d you go?”

She sighed, leaning back and patting the spot on her cot next to her. “To shower. Had I let all that mud sit in my hair much longer you’d be shaving my head come morning.”

He leaned back, looking her over. “You’d look better than half the guys, I’m sure.”

“Only half?” She did chuckle then, and raised an eyebrow when he pulled over a crate instead.

He shrugged, sitting in front of her. “My pants are still wet.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he was looking at her, or if it had been that she hadn’t had enough time to decompress, but she started feeling that welling in her belly, the anger and frustration turning into a tumultuous storm of loss and sadness. He reached out, running his thumb over her cheek, but she pulled it into her before he could say something touching that would start the tears all over again.

“How often do you stop them?” she asked, looking down at his hand in hers.

“Stop who?”

She ran her fingers over the pads of his, the slightly wrinkled ones of hers so much smaller. “How often…” she took a deep breath and held his hand in hers, “do you shut down the comments I don’t hear?”

“Peg…” Immediately, he took his hand back, leaning away from her.

“No, don’t ‘Peg’ me.” She grabbed his hand back and turned his face to look at her. “I saw those looks you were giving, the glares at the things they were saying to the men as they watched. I saw Dugan and Morita and Barnes all give the same ones. Those were not surprised faces. Those were “we’ve talked about this before’ faces.”

He sighed, pressing his hand over hers, eyes earnest. “They don’t know you like we do, Peg.”

She couldn’t keep the tears in. They welled and flowed over her lashes even though she tried to keep them. Wordlessly he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “They don’t know you like we do,” he whispered, brushing her wet hair to the side to press his cheek to hers, “They don’t know you like I do.”

“I’m just so tired,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “Tired of trying to be perfect every second of the day, tired of having to be better than all of them just to prove my worth.”

“You’re worth more than most of them any day.” He kissed her cheek and pulled back, wiping her tears away. “And you’re perfect, just the way you are.”

She sniffed, almost laughing. “Have another cliché in there for me, do you?”

He laughed a mirthless sound before kneeling at her feet, letting her sit back onto the cot. He spent a slow moment pushing her hair back and memorizing the look of her with all of the make-up scrubbed free before he spoke. “One day, they might understand. But today, I do. I know that you just about broke your own arm out there to prove yourself. But Peggy…”

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “If you say I have no one to prove anything to, I may have to throw you out of here. I don’t need proof of what I can do, you don’t need proof, but those men? Those men will always need more. They will always look over their shoulders when I have their backs. They will always expect more from me no matter what I can do.” She let her hand fall to his cheek, wincing as the raw edge of her injured fingernail caught in his beard. “Even over a hundred push-ups won’t be enough because tomorrow they’ll all be asking me how I did it, and what the gimmick was, even though I did it in front of their faces. And there will always be men like Beckett who will be mad just because I can do those things.”

“You’re right,” Steve nodded, taking her hand gently in his to look at the ragged half nail and the scabbing nail bed from where she’d injured her hand. “And I wish I could change that. But I can’t, no matter what we’ve said to them.”

She deflated a bit, watching Steve roll her finger in his hands. “So, you have talked to them before.” His look told her he wasn’t telling, and she huffed in frustration.

“What does matter,” he started, gently holding her hand in his while he sat himself back on his crate and pulled out a small field first aid kit from his pocket, “is that I do, and I’m here now, ok?” He shook his head. “Beckett should have sent you right to get this looked at.”

“Just a nail,” she muttered, echoing his mocking after she’d fallen to the ground and looked at her finger.

Steve rolled his eyes. “In these conditions you can get gangrene in a papercut.” He looked it over again, setting the cotton roll and tiny tins of ointment in his lap. “You washed it, right?”

She wanted to be cross with him, she really did, but there was no way to be angry when he handled her with such care. The tears welled again, and she fought for composure as he gently spread the light yellow powder over the edge of the exposed nailbed then started wrapping her finger. She stopped him, a hand on his, with just a little smile on her face. “Why don’t you care?” she asked in amazement.

He smiled, going back to wrapping her finger. “Because you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Because you’re brave and beautiful and strong. Because you’ve managed to beat most of the Commandos in push up contests and you still care about how many stockings you have left. Because you spent the afternoon ruining your hair in the mud to prove a point and I know you’re going to spend too much time tonight setting it so come the morning it looks perfect, not for anyone else- though you might to prove a point- but because you like ti that way. I see all of you, Peggy Carter, and I like all of you. I love all of you.”

“Even those parts that—” She got choked up, couldn’t finish the sentence.

Steve set her hand on his knee and leaned forward, taking her chin in his hand. “Even those parts that other people might not like, or have told you aren’t lady like, or have criticized you for. I like them all. I love them all. No one else gets to have an opinion here except you and me, ok?”

She nodded, gently pressing her forehead to his. “I feel so silly, breaking down like this over a nail and some mud.”

“And six weeks of rain,” he added, “plus about two years of war.” He kissed her cheek. “We’re all worn thin, and that was unfair today. It was designed to make you look bad, to make you struggle in front of everyone else for Beckett’s amusement.” He nuzzled her a little, smiling. “I’m not far off, you know. One more night in wet socks and I’ll be right there with you.”

“Then strip, soldier.”

“Huh?”

Peggy pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “You know very well my tent is dryer than yours, and we can’t have the both of us at our wits end.” She leaned back, shimmying out of her clothes and folding them until she was in her slip on the cot. “Strip. You’re not getting in bed here in wet pants and socks.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He stripped quickly down to his boxers and tee, both mostly dry enough, before slipping into the small cot with her. It was a tight fit, even if they were face to face, but they’d made it work before and they’d make it work again. The war was dragging on and the desire to be with one another started to outweigh the desire to follow rules more and more by the day. He pulled the blanket up over them, even though there was still sun in the sky, and let a happy rumble sneak out as Peggy snuggled into his chest.

“My hair will look horrid tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to move my right arm.”

“I can lift anything you might want.”

“I’m fairly sure my back will be sore, as well.”

“I’ll carry you around. It’ll keep your boots clean, too.” He smiled, kissing her hair line and lifting her now bandaged finger into his hands to kiss gently, too. “Whatever you need, Peg. I’m there. But I’m gonna let you lead, ok? Especially in front of these guys. You want to do a hundred and eight push-ups tomorrow? Go for it, I’ll count every one. But if you want to walk away from them? I’ll be right next to you.”

“I hate that you boys feel like you have to say something…”

“We don’t feel like, Peg. We have to. It’s just like if they were talking about any other soldier. You start dissent in the ranks, bad things happen.” He sighed, pulling her close. “The Commandos have your back, but I need to know if I’m not there one day, the rest of the men will, too. Can you understand that? It’s not just about standing up for you, but about them knowing what you’re capable of, just like every other man on this base.”

She took a slow breath. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

“Please don’t,” he replied quickly. “I barely have this talking to you thing down, every time you cry I feel like I’m about to panic and fall apart.”

“You don’t show it, you handle it very well.”

“Less asthma attacks; makes the panic less apparent.” He chuckled. “But I do really hate to see you sad, Peg.”

“I shall try my best to be—”

“But don’t fake it, ok?” Steve interrupted her, leaning up on his shoulder to look at her. “That’s just as bad, alright? Just be you. Happy. Sad. Angry. I just want you, ok?”

She snuggled into his arms as he settled back down. “I think I can do that.”

“Good.”

Peggy held him down as he tried to wiggle to find a better spot. “Please stop moving. This is the warmest I’ve been since we got to this god-forsaken place and if you keep moving my toes poke out of the bottom.”

Steve looked down, grabbed the end of the blanket with his foot, and pulled it back over her feet. “Better?”

“Better.”

He held her for a long, quiet moment, their breaths slowing. “Thank you,” he whispered, just as they were close to sleep.

“For what? I should be thanking you.”

“For trusting me to take care of you. To trust me enough to let me see you cry and with wet hair and… well, one of the guys was saying he didn’t know how you did it, you know? His wife back home gets in bed after he goes to sleep at night and gets out in the morning before he wakes up and he never sees her without her hair and make-up done and while he was trying to make it sound like I good thing, I just felt sad for him. How can he ever know her if all he sees is the person she puts on for him every day?”

“That is sad,” Peggy muttered, yawning.

“Thank you for letting me see all of you, Peg.”

She felt a warm stirring in her belly, and she was sure it was the heat from his body more than anything, but she could also identify the contentment and happiness starting to gather. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long, long time because it had been hidden by the stress of the war. She hoped more than anything that the war would end, that the fights would come to a close so she could go on a proper date with Steve, so she could walk and hold hands and put on a dress and go dancing with him. She didn’t know exactly what to say, to voice, so she said the only thing that made sense in the moment. “Thank you for loving all of me, Steve.”

[waitineedaname]

8- gordon at Benry

“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

“Huh? You didn’t say no, though.”

The moms of Joshua’s soccer team were an impenetrable clique. Gordon had no idea why, but for whatever fucking reason, they’d decided they hated him. Maybe he had brought the wrong snacks to practice, maybe they didn’t appreciate Joshua teaching all their sons swear words, maybe he cheered a little too loud at games. Whatever, he could deal with a little pettiness and false politeness from a bunch of housewives. He’d dealt with worse.

It was one of the first games of the season, and it was Gordon’s turn to bring drinks for the team. He was almost at the soccer field, hoping his pack of mini Gatorades would appease Joshua’s teammates, when he realized he was bringing an additional unknown variable: Benrey. The former security guard tagging along to all his outings had become such an expected occurrence at this point that he’d completely forgotten that Benrey had never gone to one of Joshua’s games before. He grimaced to himself as he pulled into the parking lot. Benrey had gotten a lot better about not doing blatant alien shit in public over time, but he was still a rogue element. Gordon could only hope he was in a chill enough mood to not make a scene on the soccer field.

Joshua had taken off running in the direction of his friends the moment the car parked, and Gordon and Benrey followed a distance behind, Gatorade packs in hand.

“Gordon, you made it!” One of the soccer moms waved at them as they walked over. “We were worried you might be late again.”

Gordon tried to turn gritted teeth into a smile. “Just because I was late one time, Katie, doesn’t mean I’m always going to be late.”

Katie gave him an equally fake smile and turned her gaze on Benrey, who was setting his pack of Gatorades down next to the cooler. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met!”

“Hm?” Benrey glanced up at her, then reached out for a handshake, his hand still damp with condensation. “Yo. Benrey.”

“Katie,” She said, shaking his hand for as short a time as possible. She glanced between him and Gordon, trying to make some kind of connection between them. “Are you Joshua’s… uncle?”

“What?” Benrey squinted at her from under the rim of his baseball cap. “Nah, I’m Gordon’s fiancé.”

Gordon promptly choked on air.

Katie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t know Gordon was engaged!”

“Aw bro, you didn’t tell them?” Benrey turned his version of puppy dog eyes on Gordon, which was really just an intense stare since he’d never quite figured out how puppy eyes worked. Gordon thought he could see mischief behind the stare.

“Man, can you blame me? It happened pretty recently.” Gordon tried to convey ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ without giving them away to Katie. Benrey just grinned and grabbed Gordon’s hand, doubling down.

“Well! I’m glad Joshua’s new stepdad could make it to one of his games!” Katie said, clasping her hands together.

“Yeah, I’m excited. Joshie’s gonna kick your kid’s ass, gonna make all the touchdowns.”

“Um.” Katie faltered, and it took all of Gordon’s strength not to snort. Never had he been so pleased by Benrey’s ability to throw anybody off their rhythm. “Well, our boys are on the same team, and it’s soccer, not f-”

“Huh? What? Sucker? What’re you calling me?”

“Okay! Well! We better go get our chairs set up!” Gordon yelled, dragging Benrey away before he could make it worse. Which led them to where they were now, sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the field, Gordon struggling not to completely break down into laughter. Benrey looked impossibly smug, slouched beside him.

“What was I supposed to say, man?” Gordon continued to protest. “I panicked! God, I’m so fucked. How am I supposed to explain that we aren’t engaged without sounding like a lunatic?”

“Just don’t? Easy.” Benrey shrugged.

“No, you don’t get it. She’s gonna be watching us like a hawk to see if we actually act like a couple.”

“Okay. Guess we gotta act like a couple now.” Benrey raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re chicken? Baby chickenshit? Too afraid to act like he wants to smooch his best friend Benrey?”

“I’m not afraid, asshole.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Oh, a challenge, huh? Well, when he put it like that, there was no way Gordon could back down. Gordon leaned over and put his hand on Benrey’s shoulder. “You’re on,” He said, rubbing his thumb affectionately on the side of Benrey’s neck for good measure.

Pretending to flirt was way more fun than it should’ve been. It felt like second nature to lean in a little closer to talk than they would normally or to throw around obnoxious pet names to make each other laugh or to initiate extra physical affection. It felt so natural, in fact, that Gordon almost forgot why he was doing it as he got more distracted by Joshua’s game. Joshua’s team only needed one more point to win, and Joshua had control of the ball, and Benrey and Gordon were absolutely riveted. They were holding hands, but both of them weren’t even paying attention to that, far more concerned with being the loudest people cheering from the sidelines for Joshua’s success. When Joshua kicked as hard as he could and the soccer ball shot to the back of the goal, Gordon shouted “yes!” at the top of his lungs. Giddy with excitement, he turned, grabbed Benrey’s face, and planted a kiss directly on his mouth.

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he was already on the field, hugging and congratulating his son. Mortification shot through him like a spike. Oh shit. It was only a dumb competition, he definitely took it way too far, Benrey was never going to let him live this down-

Benrey’s head bonked heavily against his shoulder, an established form of affection Gordon had gotten used to over the past several months. Gordon leaned away from Joshua to give Benrey room to ruffle the kid’s hair and give him congrats of his own. If he hadn’t been so focused on the two of them, Gordon might have missed the sidelong look Benrey sent him and the slight smile that accompanied it.

Joshua was momentarily distracted by one of his friends running over and talking about something a mile a minute, which gave Benrey the chance to nudge Gordon in the side. “Hey,” He said. Gordon looked over at him just in time to receive a kiss on the cheek. Benrey grinned at Gordon’s dumbstruck expression, then scooped Joshua up onto his shoulders like nothing had happened. “Yo, Joshua! Your dad is gonna buy us ice cream!”

“Wh- I never said that!” Gordon protested, following them as Benrey and Joshua chanted ‘ice cream!’ over and over the whole way to the car. He laughed and shook his head. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the soccer mom clique on his own anymore.

[ynscrazylife]

thank you😊 it's a Wanda imagine where yn is his gf(sorry Vision) but she got badly injured and in coma during endgame. Wanda panicked and took her to westview to cure faster. just wandavision with a twist, because I love Wanda and the show is fantastic! what do you think?

— WANDAVISION SPOILERS —

Just Open Your Pretty Eyes

Summary: Y/N got injured in the Endgame battle and is in a coma. In Westview, Wanda rushes her to a nearby hospital to get her help.

(Let’s pretend WandaVision has jumped to their 2000’s era for the sake of me researching and unable to understand what I found for how they treated comas in the 1950s/1970s).

I’m actually kinda proud of this so I hope you like it!

PART TWO

Oh, how Wanda wished she had her brother’s powers in a time like this. It would be so convent to be able to fly at the speed Pietro could run. 

The Avengers and co. were in the middle of battling Thanos. If that wasn’t scary enough, Y/N and Wanda had gotten separated, and Wanda was scared. The redhead knew her girlfriend could hold her own in a fight, but Thanos was strong, so strong that all the Avengers and more were unable to stop him five years ago, and half of the population vanished. Literally. 

Her worst fears came true when she looked down and saw her Y/N fighting ferociously against the giant-sized grape-like figure. However, she calmed down just the tiniest of bits when she saw that Y/N was fighting with Captain Marvel and Captain America. That would be enough so none of them would die, right? 

Wanda was ready to fly down and help them when a battle cry caught her attention. Looking over, she saw one of the Guardians of the Galaxy - she hadn’t spent enough time with them to know their names - charge into battle with a whole bunch of members of Thanos’ army. Seeing that they were easily outnumbered, Wanda knew she had to help them. So she flew down to help them instead, pushing away her irrational worries - Y/N could protect herself. 

Right? 

She was in the middle of the fighting and was doing well, when she saw she suddenly heard a yell and then a large thump. Call it a bad feeling, but Wanda couldn’t resist from looking over to see what it was. When she did, her eyes widened and fear struck her. Lying in a bunch of rubble too far away was Y/N. 

Wanda forced herself to tear her eyes away for a moment after her initial wave of shock to see what happened. She saw Thanos standing with a sick grin, his fist still extended, making the Avenger come to the conclusion that he had punched Y/N and sent her flying back through the air. Her eyes briefly met Steve’s and she saw fear in his eyes, also. He broke out in a run towards Y/N just as Carol went and attacked Thanos again.

“Go. I can handle this.” 

Wanda turned back to see the Guardian she had been fighting alongside with, them giving her a nod. She returned it with a grateful smile before breaking off into a frantic run - or fly. 

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled when she landed, arriving at the same time as Steve. They both kneeled down in front of her and immediately began pushing the ruble away - Steve with his hands and shield and Wanda with her powers. 

“Y/N, come on, wake up!” The woman said, starting to panic at seeing her girlfriend's bloodied and bruised body, as she remained unconscious. Y/N had never been seriously injured with the Avengers before, and Wanda found herself not knowing what to do, which just put even more panic into her. 

“She won’t wake up - STEVE!” Wanda cried through a sob, as her efforts to shake Y/N away failed miserably, and she turned to Steve desperately. 

Steve glanced between the unconscious Avenger and the worried one, gritting his teeth. He had never seen Wanda so terrified before and he was struggling to be strong for her and Y/N when he was scared for Y/N, too. However he was Captain America and he needed to take charge - he needed to think.

Finally, the blond gritted his teeth and exhaled. “I’m going to get her away from the battle, okay? You need to continue fighting,” he decided. 

Wanda’s eyes widened even more - if possible - and shook her head frantically. She began to protest, wanting to stay with her girlfriend, when Steve cut in. “Wanda, you have powers. You’re more powerful than me. It’s better that you fight than I, okay? I’ll make sure she’s okay,” he reasoned. 

Except she wasn’t okay. After the battle, the Avengers were informed that Y/N had slipped into coma, and it broke Wanda’s heart. The doctors told Wanda that they were transferring Y/N to a hospital in Westview, but soon something strange and . . . unexplained . . . happened . . . 

“Someone help! Someone HELP!” Wanda screamed as she kneeled at the bottom of her house’s staircase, tears flowing down her face. She had just come home from the grocery store to find her wife Y/N lying unconscious on the stairs and Wanda had put together that she must’ve fallen. The most concerning thing, though, was that Y/N wouldn’t wake up. 

 Hearing the yell, Agnes came running in. “Oh, my!” She said in a gasp, rushing over. “What happened?” 

Wanda took shallow and ragged breaths, trying to calm herself down enough to help the love of her life. “I was out and came back and she won’t wake up! She must have fallen,” she explained. 

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Agnes said, whipping out her phone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A couple hours later and the doctors finally let Wanda into Y/N’s room to visit. They had told her that she was in a coma and Agnes spent the entire time trying to comfort her sobbing friend, but it did little to nothing to make her feel better.

“Oh, Y/N,” Wanda whispered as she walked into Y/N’s room. Seeing her wife laying in the hospital bed made a fresh round of tears come. One would think that she was peacefully sleeping if not for the bandage around her head, her being hooked up to numerous machines, and in a very bland room. 

Wanda carefully pulled up a chair, sitting down and wiping her tears before taking one of Y/N’s limp hands in her own. She sniffed. “Y/N, love, just open your pretty eyes, okay?” She said, before letting out a small watery chuckle. “You need to wake up. You need to be okay. Curse our stupid stairs.” 

For the next couple days, nothing changed. Wanda only moved from Y/N’s side when the doctors forced her out, telling her that visiting hours were over. Wanda barely slept and only got some rest when Agnes would remind her that when Y/N would wake up, she would have wanted Wanda to be taking care of herself. The redhead was so scared, though, and worried and sad for her wife. She just needed Y/N to be okay, to wake up again, so Wanda could hug her and kiss her and take care of her and demand that they movie houses because of those stupid stairs. Wanda was already looking at new houses and making plans of how she would take care of Y/N. Wanda would distract herself with those plans, wanting to make sure she could cook Y/N’s favorite food and set up movies. 

At Wanda’s next visit, she greeted the doctors and sat at Y/N’s side, pulling a book out of her bag. It just so happened to be Y/N’s favorite book. She curled up in the chair, trying to make the most of how uncomfortable it was, opened the book to Y/N’s favorite chapter that she’d read over and over again, and began softly telling the story. Every-so-often, she’d look up and feel herself just a little bit disappointed when Y/N remained exactly the same. 

That’s why when Wanda heard a voice sounding a lot like her wife’s she thought she was dreaming at first. 

“Wanda?” 

Wanda looked up and nearly fell out of her chair (her book actually did fall). “Y/N! Oh my god, you’re awake! How are you feeling? You took a nasty fall!” She rambled.

“Wanda, where are we?” Y/N just asked, and then gasped, sitting up in realization like a lightbulb went off over her head. “Did we win?” 

Wanda titled her head to the side, confused. 

Looks like because Y/N was initially in a coma when she came to Westview, she still remembered everything from being an Avenger . . . aware unlike the others. 

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

Ask for a sirius request and you shall receive. I've been thinking about this idea for a while (and your writing is perfect for it ily) but how about a ravenclaw reader who is friends with james or remus and they introduce them? The one in my head was remus going to her dorm for a sleepover and bringing sirius and just being like "isn't she neat :)" and sirius immediately falling in love 🥺 no pressure if you dont vibe with it 🥰 ily bunches

i went to ravenclaw tower and all i got was this lousy stained shirt

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: james and remus play matchmaker for you and sirius

content: ravenclaw!reader, fluff, it gets awkward (some of this was hard to write... 😭😭), dialogue heavy, you and sirius are very back-and-forth-y and witty (you’ll see what i mean), i know the title is long but i thought it was funny and i can do what i want

this was such a fun request!! i hope you don’t mind i took some liberties because i just immediately imagined remus and james secretly trying to match the two of you up for a while!! also i turned the sleepover into a party at ravenclaw tower!! (also also i came up with some cute ravenclaw girl ocs just for this, they were supposed to be minor but ended up having their own sideplots because i get carried away with everything. but they were fun to write! i gave them backstories and everything so if anyone wants to know more about them just ask :)

warning: mentions of alcohol!!

“You should meet Sirius.”

“Black?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you know another Sirius?”

You stick your tongue out at him and Remus smiles.

“What is it with Sirius, huh?” you tell him, adding a few drops of rain water into the potion before handing Remus the spoon to stir. He takes it and immediately gets to work.

“You and James,” you continue, idly counting Remus’s counterclockwise stirs in your head. “Not a day goes by where you don’t tell me I have to meet Sirius.”

In truth, you’d seen Sirius a few times. And he’d seen you, but neither one of you had actually spoken more than a few words to the other. Especially not since sixth year. Sirius had dropped Potions and Astronomy as quick as he could - the only two classes you’d had left with him. And seeing as you were in different Houses, bumping into each other in the common room was off the table as well.

But you had Potions with Remus and Astronomy with James, and whenever they could, they would always mention how you just had to meet Sirius. You sometimes wondered if Sirius was always being told he had to meet you.

“I just think you’d get along,” Remus shrugs, halting his stirring before you can even tell him to do so.

You both work in tandem for a bit after that, dropping ingredients into your potion and stirring when needed. You liked partnering up with Remus for this exact reason. You’d both fall into a comfortable silence and develop a good rhythm - you just flowed well together.

Once the potion is nearly finished, Remus speaks up.

“What about tonight? Isn’t there a party at Ravenclaw?”

“Robin says not to call it a party.”

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“Yeah, but we can’t call it that. At least not out loud,” you insist, not wanting your dorm mate’s wrath to come back later and haunt you. “It’s a quiet get-together,” you correct him.

Remus scoffs, knowing damn well that Ravenclaw parties are anything but. “That, then. You can meet him there.”

You raise an eyebrow in complete disbelief. “You’re gonna get Sirius Black to come to a Ravenclaw party?”

“What happened to quiet get-together?”

Damn it.

You quickly spare a glance at Robin, but she’s all the way across the room, scolding her partner for something he did to their potion.

“Good luck with that,” you continue, pretending to ignore his quip.

“We’ll convince him!” Remus assures you, as if it’s the least of his worries.

“Okayyy...” you sing, entirely unconvinced.

You’ve never seen Sirius Black at a non-Gryffindor party. He has way too much House pride to ever be caught partying in another common room. You’re almost positive you’ve seen him root for Gryffindor at Quidditch matches even when the team isn’t playing.

“Okay? So you’ll meet him?” Remus presses.

You laugh. “Okay! I guess!” you tell him, resigned. “But you and James have been hyping him up for a while, so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t live up to my expectations and I end up hating him.” You shrug a shoulder as you turn down the fire under the cauldron.

Remus just grins. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

.

.

.

Despite your nonchalant attitude with Remus earlier today, you actually find yourself feeling a bit nervous.

“Hey, do you guys know Sirius?” you ask over your shoulder as you straighten your outfit in the mirror. “Black?” you add quickly.

“Did you just ask us if we know Sirius Black?” A shrill voice cuts through the air and you know immediately that it’s Robin.

You groan, “I know, I know, everyone knows-”

“Everyone knows him,” Robin talks over you, and then sprays a copious amount of hairspray into her already voluminous blonde locks.

You move out of her way so she can use the mirror and she gratefully takes the opportunity, stepping in front of you to fluff up her roots.

“Yeah, how do you not know him?” Bea calls from the bathroom, where April is helping her into her dress.

“I mean, I know him,” you say, flopping down on your bed. “But I don’t actually know him. You know?”

“He was April’s first kiss!” Bea taunts. She makes several kissy noises and then you hear her say ‘ow!’

“You’ve got to stop bringing that up,” you hear April scold, “It was second year!”

Bea giggles and then skips out of the bathroom, April trailing closely behind.

Bea has on a stunning yellow sundress with long, belled sleeves - going all out, as usual. The color compliments her dark skin beautifully, but you know she’s really only wearing it to lure in that Hufflepuff boy she’s had her eye on.

April has still yet to get dressed, always waiting until the very last minute, but her straight black hair has been flawlessly curled - presumably Robin’s work.

“So what is it? Why do you wanna know about Black?” April asks politely, leaning against your bedpost as Bea sits on her trunk to slip on her shoes.

“James and Remus... They’re gonna get him to come here.”

Bea nearly drops her shoe, and Robin spins around to face you.

“Here?” The two say at the same time.

“Is he really?” April asks mildly, voice much gentler than the other two.

You shrug and nod your head at the same time, giving them an uncertain look. “I think so? Maybe? If they can convince him.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the hissing sound of Robin’s can of hairspray fills the air once more as she frantically tries to get her hair to cooperate. At the very same time, Bea starts to rummage around her wardrobe, muttering to herself about how ‘I think I have a red dress in here somewhere...’

It’s clear they’re both doubling their efforts, hoping to catch Sirius’s eye.

You laugh a bit and then turn to look at April, whose eyes are stuck on Robin’s reflection. She has a solemn expression on her face, but quickly snaps out of her trance when she notices you watching her.

“So,” she starts, putting on a small smile, “You’ve really never met Sirius Black?” she asks, sitting down beside you and crossing her legs beneath her.

“No, but I hear you have,” you tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yes, the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed.” She rolls her eyes.

You hear Robin fumble with her can of hairspray but think nothing of it.

April continues, “Anyway, that was second year,” she waves it off. “I do have muggle studies with him.”

“What’s he like?” you find yourself asking.

April shrugs a shoulder. “He’s nice, I suppose. Funny. Asks the professor a lot of questions about motorbikes.”

You tilt your head. “Motorbikes? Why?”

“Who knows. I think you two would get along, though.”

“Why’s that?”

April observes you for a few beats and then laughs a bit. You expect her to say something more but she just gives you a slight nudge with her elbow and then walks off, most likely to go get dressed.

Well that was pointless. You didn’t really learn anything useful. But then again, you’re not sure what you expected out of a conversation with April, who tends to keep her talking to a minimum (She claims it makes her more mysterious) (And she’s right, too).

Oh well. Perhaps you could find a way to strike up a casual conversation about motorbikes with Sirius.

Yeah, right.

.

.

.

It’s a few hours into the party when the door opens up, letting in James and Remus. Trailing behind them, looking unnecessarily wary, is Sirius Black. He traipses around as if at any moment something in the common room is going to jump out and bite him, and you struggle to stifle a laugh.

You quickly wander off before any of them can spot you, fleeing towards where the drinks are. You figure that when they find you, you may as well be doing something instead of just lamely standing around. So you pick up the ladle and start to refill your cup.

April had transfigured her cauldron into one made of glass, and Robin had used it to concoct her famous sickly sweet, lavender colored drink that she’d aptly named ‘Robin’s Brew’. It was made up of a mixture of muggle and wizard liquors, as well as a myriad of different fruit juices. The taste itself was actually semi disgusting, but you get used to it after the initial few sips.

You ladle some more of the drink into your cup and then spin on your heel, ready to resume the search for your friends.

That is, until you crash face first against a broad chest, effectively spilling ‘Robin’s Brew’ all over whoever you just bumped into.

“Oh my gosh!” you blurt out, setting the now empty cup down. “I am so sorry, I-” Your words catch in your throat when you finally look up to see the person’s face.

So much for a good first impression.

Sirius waves you off, looking down at his now purple stained white shirt. “Don’t worry ab-” he stops in the middle of the word as he raises his gaze to look at you.

His lips are still slightly parted as if his voice had simply escaped him mid-sentence, and his expression is stunned and mesmerized all at once.

“I, um...” he tries again, but it’s as if he’s been put in some kind of trance just by looking at you.

“Oh, great! You’ve met!” A cheery voice cuts through the tension, and you both turn your head to find James beaming at the two of you.

Trailing behind James is Remus, who takes in the state of the two of you and grimaces.

“Met?” Sirius voices as he looks at James, sounding a bit dazed.

“Yeah, remember? Y/N!” James reminds him. “She’s great, right?” he grins, and you cringe.

“Oh, this is...?” Sirius slowly turns his head to look at you again. “Hey...” he says faux-smoothly, as if attempting to salvage your very first meeting.

“Hey...” you say back a bit awkwardly. “Um... Look, there’s towels in my dorm, we can all go?” you suggest, looking to the others for approval.

“Why don’t you two go?” Remus proposes instead, and you shoot him an alarmed look.

“Yeah!” James nearly shouts, looking at Remus as if he’s a genius. “Yeah, you’ll find us later!” he’s quick to agree, and they both start to walk away.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I don’t know if-” you start, not sure if comfortable enough to be alone with a man you just met after spilling your drink on him.

But Remus and James don’t wanna hear it.

“Alright! See you later!” James throws a finger gun at you as he walks backwards and then spins on his heel.

“But I-”

“Bye!” Remus calls, and then they both disappear into a small crowd of people.

You turn to face Sirius, whose shirt is still dripping and who’s watching you with rapt intrigue. He turns away the moment your eyes meet, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Soon enough you’re leading Sirius down the corridor that leads to your dormitory, trying desperately to remember whether or not you’d tidied up your area of the room.

The door swings open just as you arrive at it, and from out of it come April and Robin who seem to be having a serious looking discussion. They quickly stop talking as soon as they spot the two of you, and April is quick to storm off, leaving Robin behind.

“Oh, you’ll want to get rid of that,” Robin says with a wince, gesturing at Sirius’s shirt. “The stain actually gets darker the more you try to get it off... So...”

You give a heavy sigh. “Yeah, thanks Robin.”

She shrugs apologetically with both hands in the air and then starts to walk off. “Robin’s Brew! Patent pending!” she calls over her shoulder as she scurries off to catch up with April.

“What’s up with them?” Sirius mutters under his breath as you lead him inside.

“Well, aren’t you nosy?” you’re quick to reply.

You say it as a joke, but immediately wish you could take it back. What were you thinking?! You didn’t know Sirius enough to joke around with him like that! You didn’t know him at all! Hell, you’d just spilled your drink all over him, for all you know the guy hates you!

You spin around, ready to apologize, but then Sirius is laughing, and you nearly let out a massive sigh of relief.

“Uh-” your apology catches in your throat for a moment but you quickly recover. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, nosy is my middle name,” he tells you with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

You find yourself smiling back. “Sirius Nosy Black, huh?”

He hums. “Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both look at each other. Your thoughts leave you a bit as you get distracted by that strange way that he’s looking at you, but then you remember with a jolt that Sirius Black is in your dorm, shirt stained lavender and dripping ‘Robin’s Brew’ onto the floor.

“Um!” You scramble towards the bathroom and yank a random towel off the rack. “Here,” You toss it and Sirius catches it with one hand.

“You can, um...” You trail off but then realize you’re still standing in the doorway, effectively blocking his entrance. “Oh!” You quickly move out of the way, leaving a clear path for Sirius.

“Thanks,” he says with a slight laugh before disappearing into the bathroom.

Once the door closes you’re left alone, idly shuffling around, not really knowing what to do now.

This was horrible. All of this was horrible. You’re alone in your dorm with a man you’ve just met - sure he’s friends with Remus and James, but that doesn’t mean it’s not awkward!

You have to focus. You have to avoid any more tense silences. What would you say when he got out of the bathroom?

You suppose he did laugh at your quip earlier - he’d even added a little joke of his own. You’d gone back and forth a bit. It was easy to converse once you’d gotten started. But getting started was exactly the issue... You needed a good topic. Why can’t you think of a good topic?!

The door to the bathroom opens up and out walks Sirius, leather jacket now slung over his forearm and white shirt drier, but still equally stained.

You panic.

“Hey, do you like motorbikes?” You blurt out, and then have to resist the urge to hurl yourself out the window.

Sirius’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking like a stunned fish, before saying “Motorbikes?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah, I was...” You shrug, trying to play off your very strange, very targeted question as just casual conversation. “I was just wondering... I dunno...” you say, leaning against one of your bedposts.

Sirius breaks out into a smile. “I have a motorbike.”

“Really! No way!” you exclaim, pretending to be shocked. Although you didn’t really know Sirius owned a motorbike, it wasn’t all that surprising considering what April had told you just a few hours ago.

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, looking at you as if he’s trying very hard to figure you out. “Yeah... I’m fixing it up right now...” he tells you, still grinning.

“Oh? Is it broken?”

He tilts his head back and forth a few times and then says “Not exactly.”

You cross your arms. “Then why are you fixing it up?” you challenge.

Sirius just rolls his eyes. “Well I’d argue that anything that can’t fly can definitely be improved.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “You’re gonna get your motorbike to fly?”

“Laugh it up now!” Sirius nods as you bring a hand to your lips, stifling your giggles. “No one’ll be laughing once I finish my flying motorbike!”

“Oh, I’d love to see it in action.”

“Sure, I’ll take you on a ride once it’s done,” he tells you, voice genuine.

That shuts you up. All of a sudden you find that you have no witty response. Apparently out of all the things that could have rendered you silent, the prospect of going on a ride on Sirius Black’s flying motorbike seems to have done the trick.

Sirius notices.

“I mean- If you want.” he quickly says, raising a hand. “I mean- Sorry. I know we just met, and I made you spill your drink, and I think I stained your towel with whatever that drink was - sorry about that too - but I-”

“Hey,” you cut him off, giving him a pointed but lighthearted look.

He gazes back expectantly.

“I’d love to,” you assure him, and he grins.

You don’t even remember what you were so nervous about. This was easy. Talking to Sirius was so easy once you got into a rhythm.

So you did.

You talked for a while, and when you got tired of standing you laid down on your bed, face down, head resting in your hands and legs kicking behind you as Sirius sat cross legged on your trunk in front of you. You talked about possible spells and modifications for Sirius’s motorbike, you bonded about all the times James and Remus had tried to get the two of you together, you even just talked about whatever nonsense came to your heads.

You were still talking (now both sitting on your bed) when the door creaked open, letting in April and Robin. April was asleep and Robin was carrying her bridal style. You notice they’re both barefoot, but Robin only has April’s shoes in hand - hers were probably somewhere in the common room.

“Oh, hey,” you say in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake April.

“Hey,” Robin responds, though she’s not quite as cautious with her volume as you.

Earlier today you’d have thought Robin would’ve freaked out the moment she saw Sirius, but if she cares about him being in the dorm, she doesn’t show it.

“She fell asleep on the couch. Thought I should leave her here,” the blonde explains as she pads over to April’s bed. She drops the shoes on the ground and then pauses to look at you. “Do you mind?” she questions, nodding her head towards the bed.

You quickly get up, striding over to April’s bed and pulling back the blankets.

“Thanks,” Robin murmurs as she gently sets the raven haired girl down.

You pull the covers up again and April stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

Robin finally acknowledges Sirius. “Hi,” she waves with a smile. Sirius smiles back. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. We were just talking,” you assure her, and she nods a bit before turning her attention back to April, gazing down at her with a slight furrow to her brow.

“Where’s Bea?” you voice, curious.

“Went off with her Hufflepuff, I expect.”

“Mm. Is the party over?”

“Quiet get-together.” Robin corrects you without a second thought and you laugh lightly, sitting back down on your bed beside Sirius. “And yeah. I’m gonna go try to clean up a bit,” she says, sounding like the prefect she is.

You watch as Robin hesitates over April for a bit, smoothing the blankets over, brushing stray hairs from the sleeping girl’s face. It’s as if she wants to take care of her but isn’t sure how. In the end, she gives you a smile, bids a polite ‘goodbye’ to Sirius, and then exits quietly.

“We never went and found James and Remus,” you turn to look at Sirius once the door closes and he grins.

“I don’t think they ever expected us to.”

“You’re probably right.”

April stirs again and you get up to close the curtains of her four-poster.

“I should go help Robin,” you tell Sirius, and he takes the cue quickly standing up.

“Right. Sorry I kept you up.“

“No, it was fun. Sorry I spilled my drink on you.”

“No, it was fun,” Sirius echoes, and you give him a slight shove.

The two of you walk across the room and out of the door in comfortable silence, and once you’re in the corridor you speak up.

“So, hypothetically,” you start.

“Uh-huh,” Sirius assents immediately.

“If you wanted to... I don’t know... Have breakfast with me tomorrow...”

“Oh?”

“How would you go about that?”

“Hypothetically?” Sirius raises an eyebrow, as if double checking.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Well in this completely made up scenario,” he starts, “I’d probably meet you here at seven and walk you down to the Great Hall.”

You fight a smile. “Well, great.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Hypothetically I’d definitely be ready by then.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You’ve reached the door that leads out of the common room by now, and you open it up, leaning against the frame. The rest of the castle is dark as it’s well past midnight, and you can hear the quiet sounds of nearby portraits snoring. You’d be worried about him getting caught, but with all the pranks the Marauders have pulled throughout the years, you know for a fact that Sirius Black had plenty of experience sneaking about the castle after curfew.

You watch as he lights his wand with a quick ‘Lumos’ and starts to walk off, but then he hesitates.

“What?” you voice as he turns around, walking back towards you.

He stops right in front of you, looking at you very intensely, scrutinizing every inch of your face. For a brief moment you expect him to lean in and kiss you, but then he speaks.

“I know you brought up motorbikes on purpose. That girl April takes muggle studies with me, and she-”

You quickly shut the door in his face and press your back against it, eyes wide and smiling despite yourself.

You scurry off to help Robin and a few others clean up, spirits high with the promise of having breakfast with Sirius tomorrow morning.

And who knows, maybe by tomorrow he’ll forget all about the motorbike thing. At least, you hope he does.

(He doesn’t.)

.

.

Bonus, the next morning:

“There they are!” James exclaims as you and Sirius approach the table.

“Did he live up to your expectations?” Remus asks you pointedly as you sit down, and you poke your tongue out at him in response.

And then you shrug. “I’ve gotta say, right off the bat I wasn’t impressed.”

“You’re the one who spilled your drink all over me. My poor new shirt! Ruined!”

“Oh, boo hoo. Where will you ever find another plain, white T-shirt?”

“It had sentimental value!”

“And now it has a cute new design! So you’re welcome.”

“You want me to thank you for a stain?”

“It’s a fun souvenir from your first time in a non Gryffindor common room.”

“I should write on it. Big letters: ‘I went to Ravenclaw Tower and all I got was this lousy stained shirt.’”

“At least the stain is purple, it looked nice. Suits you.”

“Are you saying I look good in purple?”

“Sure.”

“So you’re saying I look good?”

“I- I didn’t-” you stammer, and then groan.

“Ah-ha!” Sirius points a finger at you. “Outwitted by a Gryffindor! If only Rowena Ravenclaw could see you now.”

Across the table, Remus and James watch on in dismay.

“Are you already regretting getting them together or is it just me?” James voices.

In response Remus sighs, “Oh, it’s not just you.”

.

.

.

(hey ps for the sake of my sanity let’s just pretend there was no easy simple drying spell they could’ve used)

also: about robin & april

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taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[forever-rogue]

Could you do a Javier peña x female reader where javi gets naughty and teases her in public but she gets her revenge at home that night by putting on a show and saying “only good boys get to touch”?? Thank you, your writing is so good!

One way or another, this ended in sin. Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language, smut (18+ only!)

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Stop," you hissed through gritted teeth as Javier toyed with the hem of your dress. It was already tight, purposely chosen to give him an eye full, but not enough to cause him to touch. You, Javier, and Steve were currently out at dinner, talking it up with a bunch of big wigs from the Colombian government. Not exactly a place for him to be making a scene, "Javier."

"You say you don't enjoy this," he pretended he dropped something and leaned down, whispering so only you could hear, "then why are you so wet?"

He straightened back up, but kept his hand on your thigh as he pushed your damp panties to the side and ran a finger through your soaked folds. Bastard. 

Instinctively you tried to close your legs, but Javier was faster and able to keep his hand between your legs. He was practically fucking smirking at your vain attempts to pull away. 

"Stop this, now," you insisted, almost banging your fist on the table as he circled over your clit with his thumb. He was enjoying this far too much, somehow managing to keep a conversation going without so much as missing a beat as you struggled to keep from moaning.

"Everything alright?" he feigned innocence as he turned to you when everyone noticed your lapse in conversation. It took everything in your power to nod and smile politely as if your secret, but not so secret, boyfriend wasn’t about to fingering you, "you look a little flushed."

"Nooope," you managed to squeak out as he curled his fingers just right and hit your sweet spot, "just fiiiine."

"Hmm," he mused before shrugging his shoulders and getting back to his own conversation. You were so wet you could practically feel your arousal dripping down your leg as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. The sound was disgustingly obscene, so wet and filthy, you were surprised no one else could hear it. 

But then, as you edged closer and closer to your blissful release, Javier pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips and discreetly sucking them clean as if he had gotten food on them. 

Your mouth dropped as you watched him with an incredulous expression. He pretended he didn't notice at first before turning back to grin as you downed the rest of your wine.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you narrowed your eyes at him, cursing him for being such a bastard, "you're going to pull that little stunt and then not even let me finish?!"

"You were getting a little loud," he said casually, sipping on his drink as he waved at a couple of people he recognized at another table, "I didn't want you to be embarrassed or cause a scene, baby. You’re normally such a good girl, what happened?”

“Javier Peña,” you huffed at him as he just continued to have the most saccharine look on his face, “I hate you. We’re done. I never want to see you again!”

Grabbing your purse, you stood up, ready to make up some sort of bullshit excuse about you just remembered a prior engagement. Anything to get out of there and finish what Javi had started. He caught your wrist and looked at you with the softest, big, brown puppy dog eyes before pouting, “you don’t mean that.”

“Yeah...well...right now I do,” you hissed at him before pulling out of his grasp and offering a good evening to the rest of the table, without so much as even offering him another glance. It hadn’t taken more than a few moments to come up with your little plan to get back at Javi; you knew him like a book, and for once you were going to be a few steps ahead. 

You could practically feel his eyes glued to your backside as you left the restaurant, a smirk spreading on your face as you picked up your coat at the check. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

It wasn’t much later before you heard Javi’s keys in the lock as he returned to his apartment. You were lying in his bed, dressed in the newest bit of lingerie you’d stashed in one of his drawers for an occasion just like this. You were sipping on some champagne as you laid there, attempting to look as innocent as possible. 

“Baby? I thought you were mad and didn’t want to see me again,” he called out as he spied the light on his room, slowly making his way down the hall. You prepared yourself, reminding yourself that he deserved retribution for earlier and you would make him suffer. His tie was already loosened and half off as he came into the bedroom. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as he drank in the sight of you, “fuck.”

“Hi Javi,” you offered him a sweet little smile as you batted your lashes at him, “didn’t take long for you to come. I thought you were having oh so much fun with the guys?”

“Fuck them,” he tossed his tie onto the floor, already starting to unbutton his shirt, the growing bulge in his pants visible, “new set?”

“Mhmm...bought it just for you, Javi,” you touched over the barely there lace that covered your breasts, watching as he visibility swallowed the lump in his throat. His shirt was off in mere seconds before he reached for his waistband, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“You can’t be in here looking like that, and not expect me to want to fu-”

“Only good boys get to touch,” you leaned and crawled to the edge of the bed, holding up a finger and stopping him. He raised his eyebrows as he watched you in disbelief, “what, baby? Did you think I would let you touch me or fuck me after that little stunt you pulled? Mhmm...I don’t think so.”

“You’ve got to be...kidding me,” his eyes were almost black with lust as you just nodded sweetly before laying back against his soft blankets and pillows. His cock twitched in his trousers as he felt like a little piece of his soul was dying then and there. This was practically torture - if not worse, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, yeah, hmmm...looks painful,” you mused as he sighed, “well, I can tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit in that chair and watch me touch myself. You don’t get to touch yourself either.”

“Shit,” he groaned, but as soon as he noticed the fierce, predatory look in your eyes, he decided not to argue and sat down, “you’re a tease.”

“Me?” you propped yourself against the pillows, “what about you? You edged me and left me practically dripping.”

Before he could protest, you touched your breast, squeezing it through the fabric and causing your nipple to peak before doing the same thing to the other. It was easy to get lost in the motions, letting a few moans spill from your mouth as you imagined it was his hand or mouth on you. He watched you eagerly, seemingly not blinking or breathing as he watched you play with your breasts. 

“Javi,” his name practically rolled off your tongue like a reverent prayer. Reaching behind your back, you undid the clasp of your bra and let it slowly fall down your arms before tossing it to join Javi's tie. Stretching, you made sure he got a good view of your chest and before gliding your hand down to your body and to your mound. 

"Shit...baby," you could see that he was straining against his trousers, "please let me touch you…"

"No," you purred as you touched yourself over the lacy panties, feeling how soaked they already were. The mere thought of having this much power over him was...sexy. You teased yourself over the fabric for a few moments, making all the lewd noises possible, "Javi...fuck, I'm so wet. All for you. Want to see, baby boy?"

"Hermosa…"

"Mhmmm," you slipped a hand inside your panties and circled over your swollen clit. You were already so wet, that it was practically threatening to drip down your thigh. Combined with your arousal and would be orgasm from earlier, you were almost at your peak again.Glancing up, you could see that he was practically craning his neck to get a better look. Deciding to egg him on, you threw your head back as you added another finger and dragged it through your soaked folds  "oh Javi."

“Shit,” his hands were on the arm rests of the chair, as for once he listened to you and refrained from touching himself. His grip was so tight that the skin over his knuckles was stretched and practically white, “wanna see.”

“I bet you do,” you pulled your hand out and slowly made your way over to him, stopping directly in front of his body, practically humming with energy before holding up your fingers to him, “suck.”

Javier practically groaned at your words, but did as you asked, taking your fingers in his mouth as he sucked them clean. Only when you were sure he had done a thorough job, did you pull your hand back, but not before grabbing his chin in your hands and roughly forcing him to look at you, “oh, so you can be a good boy. Very good.”

“Baby, you’re going to be the death of me,” you beamed at his words, gently carding a hand through his dark locks as he keened into your touch. You let him face his moment, pretending to lean down to kiss him, but instead picking up his tie. He watched you with a small huff as you grabbed his wrists, tying them together, just enough to be tight, but not enough to truly restrict him. It was more of a show of power in the moment, and you wanted to wield it over him for once. Before going back to the bed, you leaned down and gave him an actual kiss, just a soft, gentle little thing. 

You pulled off the delicate lace panties, tossing them at him, before laying back down and spreading your legs so he could get a full view of you. Giving him a devilish smirk, you reached down and touched yourself, slowly, making it a point to show him everything. Rubbing gentle circles on your clit, you moaned before slowly working towards your entrance and sliding a finger inside.

“Javier,” you sighed contentedly as he watched with great interest, “gods, I wish it was your fingers inside of me. So thick and good, know how to touch me just right.”

“I could…”

“No,” you slipped another finger inside, a small gasp escaping your parted lips as you felt the heat in your belly continue to pool, the coil that was threatening to snap winding tighter and tighter. Curling your fingers added to the pleasure you felt as you worked to find your sweet spot, on that Javier usually found effortlessly. You toes started to curl in pleasure as you made a show of it all, just to push him further, “fuck...Javi, ‘m so close. Don’t you wish it was your cock I was going to cum all over?”

“You look so pretty like that baby, all spread out,” he was clearly enjoying the show as he sat back, biting his own lip to try and control himself. He felt like he was going to cum in his trousers without even having touched himself, “are you going to cum for me?”

“Mhmm,” you used your free hand to squeeze and play with your breasts as you continued to pump your fingers in and out of yourself, “wish it was your cock or your mouth. Such a good mouth.”

“You’re almost there baby,” he cooed at you, as you opened your eyes to look at him. His face was flushed, the tan of his delicious skin tinged with pink as he gazed upon you with wild, watchful eyes.

“Javi,” it was a breathy whisper as you felt your walls start to clench around your fingers causing you to speed up your ministrations as you felt the warm, blissful haze of your orgasm wash over you. A small cry left your lips as you came around your fingers, before it all turned into a reverent, gentle chant of his name. 

Only when you were completely through the throws of your passion, you collapsed among the pillows and let out a long, blissful sigh. It had been fun - to have him watch and hold a semblance of power over him, even if it was only for a little while. At work you were equals, and in your relationship, Javier was generally in control, and to be honest, you didn’t mind it. There was something about the protective, dominant Javier that you adored and drove you wild. Not that he wielded power over you, or tried to make you subservient in any sense, it just worked...but this? Having him at your mercy? It was pretty good. You’d make a note to try it again some time. 

But just before you called him, you felt the bed shift as he made his way on it, looming over you before leaning down and kissing you deeply. Of course he couldn’t control himself for much longer. 

“Javier,” you grinned up at him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down against your body. He was naked already, and you could feel his hard cock rubbing against your mound, “what do you think you're doing?”

“That was a cute show,” he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing you - this time with more hunger and intensity. You grinned into his touch as his hands found your waist and gripped you tightly, sure to leave bruises for the coming days, “but now I’m going to fuck you, and show you how its done.”

“Are you actually going to let me cum this time?" you smirked against his lips as he made a sound akin to a growl in the back of his back throat.

“I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name,” he swore and you could feel yourself melting into him, “you are not leaving this bed all weekend.”

“For a threat, that doesn’t sound too bad,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tightly against your body, peppering some kisses along his jaw, “te amo, Javier - even if you are an asshole sometimes.”

“Te amo hermosa,” he sighed lightly as he relished in your touch, “you and only - always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: "you accidentally get sent into the future and see how you both turn out.”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (anyverse / nightwing) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “I said that’s life and as funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream but I don’t let it get me down cause this fine old world keeps spinning around.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / again like what I said with my Jason fic, you don’t necessarily use the TITANS universe to imagine this fic. i just used this version of dick for no reason. 

“god, this is the last time I do any kind of work with ANY OF YOU!” you yelled at Dick as he bit on his inner cheek. all of you had been fighting off a bunch of crooks and at first, you thought it was okay.....that was until one of the crooks pulled out his hidden magical abilities, “at the very least, we could’ve called Klarion for help!” 

Damian gave you a look as if what you were saying was stupid, “I’M JUST SAYING! WE’RE ALL FUCKING HUMAN AND ZATANNA ISN’T EVEN IN THE COUNTRY TO HELP!” you yelled back. 

Dick was trying to remain calm as he hadn’t seen one of the criminals approaching him. he was too busy charging one that was heading towards you. you; however, had saw them out of the corner of you eye and practically sped to Dick which is what the criminal wanted. 

he wanted you and Dick out of the way in order to get Damian trapped. as you and Dick had passed each other with the notion to save each other, the crook pulled out a gadget that opened up a portal. 

“NIGHTWING!” “( YOUR HERO NAME )!” 

+

the two of you went to grab each other but it was too late. you and Dick had gotten sucked into the portal as you let out a piercing yell. Dick tried grabbing you, hoping that wherever the two of you landed, he would get the hardest impact. 

soon enough, both you and Nightwing collided with the ground. you instantly shot up, preparing to fight whoever was around. Dick had took in the surrounding and whispered that the two of you were safe. 

“where the hell are we?” you asked, trying not to panic, “we need to find another portal back. Damian is on his own!” you fidgeted with your fingers as Dick waved you off. 

“if anything, Damian might be more in his element,” he whispered, “you forget how Damian grew up. I think he’ll be fine. he probably already called Bruce or one of the boys.” you tried to figure out how the hell Dick was so calm about the situation. 

Dick took off his mask as you followed along, “I think are biggest issue might be trying to figure out what year he took us too. I can’t imagine he took us in the past so we might just be in the future,” Dick explained. 

both of you walked down the hill that you had landed on and saw you were in Bludhaven, “I think we’re in your home territory,” you murmured. Dick sighed in relief. he was more relieved that both of you landed in his hometown because had you landed in Gotham, he felt like that would’ve landed you in more trouble with the Bat, “I didn’t think Bludhaven was this ran down,” you told Dick. 

“hey!” he exclaimed, “it isn’t as bad as it looks!” you giggled trying not to catch attention from anyone. the two of you made it down the hill when the realization hit you. Bludhaven had snow falling all over the town and you nor Dick were even mildly dressed in clothes to handle the cold. 

“do you have clothes in your apartment? it’s freezing out here!” you exclaimed. Dick gave you the side eye, “I do but if we landed in the future, my future self might be there. we can run into a store and get clothes there.” 

“and do you have cash? bc if you’re carrying a debit card, that would be really weird to see a transaction from the future,” you replied. Dick took out his wallet and pulled out a crisp 100, “I stand defeated,” you murmured. Dick rolled his eyes as the two of you saw a department store at the corner of the street. 

before you could pull in, you heard someone scream you hero name, “hey! those are sick cosplays!” they said running up to you. you gave him a confused look before realizing, you had to pretend that you weren’t actually yourself, “thanks! it took a lot of work,” you tried to say. 

“I bet. it looks super realistic too! ever since she stopped fighting, it’s been super weird not seeing ( your hero name ) around.” you stood confused, wondering what he meant by that, “oh! you’re supposed to be Nightwing! that’s awesome! do you think I can get a picture!” he asked. 

you looked to Dick who just shrugged and agreed. the two of you smiled for the photo as he scanned it, “thanks! I swear, you look exactly like her too! but clearly that can’t be right since the actual ( your hero name ) is pregnant allegedly!” he said as he turned around to leave. 

“pregnant?” you yelled, holding onto Dick who was laughing hysterically, “it’s not fucking funny! I’m pregnant in whatever year this is!” you yelled. Dick could see the panic in your eyes, “he never said it was actually true. he said it was alleged that you were,” Dick tried to emphasize. 

you walked into the department store, which ended up being a Target, and ran to the women’s section, wanting to get out of your hero costume as soon as possible. once you and Dick grabbed the clothes, he quickly paid for it before the two of you darted to the bathrooms to get dressed. 

you managed to come out faster than Dick as you held onto your costume by hand. with curiosity plaguing your mind, you saw a magazine and looked at the date. 

December 22, 2024.

you sighed in relief. the two of you had only gone three years into the future which was a good thing....right?

“we’re three years into the future,” you told Dick. he nodded as you walked outside, “we can check if future you is actually home and if he’s not, you making some portal to get us back home!” you threatened. 

“at this rate, I would’ve preferred if Damian would’ve been the one to come along,” Dick retorted. you pushed him to street, making him stumble over his feet, “say some snark shit again and see where that gets you,” you told him, “plus, you think I want to get stuck in the future with you? I would have preferred Jason if we’re going to be honest. at least he would’ve been more entertaining to be around.” 

Dick remained quiet, not knowing how to respond. 

the two of you had a weird relationship with each other. at times, the two of you got along, to the point where some thought the two of you were together while other times, you practically hated his guts. no one knew why the relationship was this way but his heart felt a pang as you confessed that you would have rather been here with Jason than him. 

“way to kill a mood,” Dick said. you rolled your eyes, “you literally just said you’d rather be with Damian! don’t blame me for this shit. plus, if it wasn’t Damian, I’m sure you would wanted Starfire next,” you added on. 

Dick looked at you stunned, “what makes you say that?” he asked. you rolled your eyes, “please, it’s not hard to tell that you and Star have a thing for each other,” you said, this time more quietly than before. Dick didn’t know how to respond but quickly for him, he didn’t have to. the two of you had arrived to where lived or at least hope he still lived there. 

the house wasn’t big, not in the slightest; however, it was big enough for him on his own. the two of you looked inside of the window and saw that someone was facing their back towards it. 

“whose that?” you asked Dick. he shrugged, half of him annoyed at you and the other half not knowing who it actually was. the two of you remained looking at the person, hoping they turned around so you could get a look, “it looks like you if I’m going to be honest,” Dick replied. 

you sighed, “I don’t think it is but sure,” your statement was quickly taken back as the person finally turned around. it was in fact you...fully pregnant and opening up the window. you let out a piercing scream as Dick quickly covered your mouth, trying not to get caught. 

“can you shut the hell up?” he whisper screamed, “you’re going to get us caught!” he continued. you took his hand off your mouth, “do that shit again and you’ll be dead before you can even see your future self,” you threatened, “plus! that’s me! pregnant as fuck!” 

Dick tried not to laugh at your last statement but couldn’t, “if you’re pregnant, I wonder whose kid it is and why the hell you’re even at my place,” he wondered, “it’s probably yours,” you joked, making the both of you laugh quietly. 

you remained looking through the window, watching as you stood up and got different things from a box. you were whispered things you couldn’t exactly heart but one thing you did notice was the huge ring on your left finger. 

you whipped your head to look at Dick as his eyes widened. his future self had walked into the living room, giving you a peck on the cheek before bending down and kissing your stomach, “hey bubba! treating your creator well?” he asked. 

both you and Dick looked at each other speechless as you put two and two together. you were pregnant....with Dick’s child, “you better because your mom might kill me if you’re giving her a hard time,” he joked before placing a kiss on your lips, “we should eat before John gets hungry and your dad thinks we ditched out on the plans,” you mentioned. 

“John?” you whispered to yourself, wondering why the hell you named your future kid John, “John was my fathers name, you know, before he passed,” Dick confessed. your eyes widened, “oh, is it?” you murmured back, not knowing what to say. 

the two of you walked closer the door as you noticed your belly again. it was bigger than you realized as Dick had to help you down the stairs. you watched yourself get into Dick’s are as you were struggling to put the belt around you. eventually, Dick drove away and left the two of you alone again. 

the air was thick with silence as you had no idea what to say, “parents huh?” Dick asked with a chuckle of nervousness, “yup....and you’re the dad,” you added on. Dick nodded as you sat on the curb with your hands on your knees, “and you’re the mom,” he replied. 

you let out a laugh of disbelief as you couldn’t make up anything to say, “crazy right? I think we’re married too,” you finally looked at Dick as he stared at you, almost lovingly, “is there an issue with that?” he asked as seriously as possible. you shook your head no, “nope. just weird that we were the ones that ended up married and having kids together,” you said. 

Dick slowly grabbed your hand and held it softly. 

“I mean it could be weirder...it could have been Jason or Tim,” he said out loud. you shrugged, “I mean, that would have weird too,” you played with Dick’s fingers and bit your lip, “I guess we should try and find our way back? we wouldn’t want to change the future,” you gave Dick a hopeful look. 

he nodded as he helped you up but without hesitation, he pulled you in for a searing kiss, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now,” he whispered as he put his hand on your cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb. 

a few seconds later, both of you saw a portal opening with Damian screeching from the other side of it, “COME ON YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS!” he yelled dramatically. you laughed, looking to Dick, “you heard the boy, let’s get the future started,” Dick nodded grabbing your hand and stepping into the portal. 

[twdeadfanfic]

Vows Pt.6

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Summary:

The last battle with Negan doesn’t go as it should, with Negan coming on top, and so reader, Daryl’s girlfriend, offers herself as a wife to Negan if he doesn’t kill Daryl or anyone else. Negan accepts, he won’t kill anyone but will take reader as a wife, and he’ll take Daryl and some of the others to the Sanctuary as prisoners, promising not to hurt anyone if reader is one of his wives and the communities work for him.

This has both flashbacks to reader and Daryl’s story since meeting to now, and the present with reader living at the Sanctuary as a wife, trying to keep Daryl and their people safe, and she and the other wives dealing with Negan, plotting… (This is not a Negan x reader fic!)

Warning, there are reader and Negan scenes in this chapter, but to make up for it, there’s also a flashback from when reader and Daryl got together.

Another few days passed, blurring with each other, and though your time with Negan still didn’t feel like routine, and you were pretty sure it’d never feel like that, you felt more and more like you wanted to take advantage of the situation and Negan’s crotch-driven brain like the other wives did…but you still weren’t good at playing him and keeping him happy as they did. Your biggest achievements were that you hadn’t slapped him again and that you hadn’t spat on him, which didn’t count much towards gaining likable points.

Finally, you decided to just go and ask for help. Abby was in the room that she shared with Frankie, while Frankie was in the main room watching one of the DVDs. You went to the room and flopped down next to Abby.

“I want to ask something from Negan,” you blurted out and Abby arched an eyebrow at you.

“What do you need? Maybe I can get it for you.”

“You can’t…” You let out a sigh. “I want to ask him to let my friend out of the cages sometimes.” They had been in there for days and days, they weren’t tortured, but it was pretty awful anyway.

“Pfff…yeah, no, you’re not getting it,” Abby said and you couldn’t even be annoyed. “I mean…don’t be mad. But you agreed to marry him, listen to him, and fuck him, and he doesn’t kill or torture your friends…he’s kept his end of the deal but…you barely keep yours, I’ve seen you just staring at nothing while he talks. We all think on something else while he talks and talks, but we smile and pretend to listen.” Abby chuckled.

“Yeah…yeah, I know…” You murmured…you felt like you had done enough by not snapping at him but you were supposed to pretend to be enraptured by whatever bullshit was he saying, and you…really didn’t feel like it.

“Also, fucking him…” Abby gave you a teasing look. “I bet you just lie there like a starfish…”

“Abby!” You gaped at her, flustered, and pushed her so she’d fall on the pillow. “Shut up!” She was laughing and you couldn’t help your own. “What do you want me to do, moan how good he is and what a big boy is he?” You snorted, that wasn’t you, even if it weren’t Negan.

“Actually, yes.” Abby chuckled. “But don’t go getting all crazy the next time he calls you, after being a starfish for weeks, he’ll know you’re trying to play him.”

You let out a sigh. “I really don’t think I can do it…”

“You can.” Abby squeezed your hand. Just…just start small, baby steps. Like, if he decides to talk to you, pretend that that time it’s something that interests you. If he makes a joke, let out a chuckle…like, maybe you didn’t mean to, you were trying not to laugh, but it was too funny even for grumpy you and you let out a chuckle against your will because he’s oh so funny he even made you laugh?”

You blinked at her. “Abby…there’s no way I can pull off that. It’s going to look staged, I’m going to look like a robot, it’s not going to be natural, he’s going to notice.”

“Just try.” Abby shrugged. “Is not that hard.”

“Yeah…I don’t know how you do it…”

You decided to try it, though, and so the next time that Negan was talking about something, you forced yourself to ask a question about it, as if you were interested in listening. Negan seemed confused and then pleased, as he turned his attention to you, talking to you about it, and you forced yourself to look like you were interested in it.

The next day, you tried to follow Abby’s idea, and when Negan said one of his stupid jokes, you let out a short and quiet chuckle, and Negan looked at you, arching an eyebrow.

“Well now…did I make Mss. Grumpy laugh?”

“No,” you scoffed, looking away, pretending that you hadn’t laughed on purpose but against your will.

“Oh…I’d say I did…” A smug grin spread across Negan’s face. “You laughed, sweetcheeks.”

“Yes, I saw it too,” Abby said, winking at you.

“Yeah…yeah, she did…” Negan kept looking at you with that smug face and you scoffed again, looking away, pretending to be embarrassed.

You kept that up, pretending to be interested in whatever Negan had to say, chuckling at some of his stupid jokes, for another couple of days, until Abby told you that you could try another step…you weren’t very sure you could though.

The idea now was to kiss back Negan whenever he kissed you, as if you really wanted to kiss him, and you weren’t sure if you could pull off that…

“Come on…pretend that you’re an actress, pretend to be someone else,” Abby tried to encourage you. “Some sort of seductress…” She winked at you and you snorted, shaking your head.

“I’m really not that…”

“Just pretend to be, you’re not yourself, you’re this hot seductress black widow…” Abby kept going, nudging you when you snorted again. “Come on…you must have seduced your man, I’m sure you’re more of a seductress than you think.”

“I’m really not…” You shrugged. “And Daryl…I don’t think I ever seduced him…”

Not even the first time that you’d tried to get with him, you had just gone ahead and kissed him, much to his shock…

Then…

You were at the CDC, sat down on the table after eating more food than you’d ever eaten since walkers began roaming the world. Everyone was happy, eating and drinking, celebrating, including Daryl. He was joking and drinking, smiling, you didn’t think you’ve seen him grinning like that before, and you had to admit that you liked it, he had a pretty smile, that seemed to light his whole face, the whole place, even…

You chuckled at yourself…what a bunch of corny shit, as Daryl would say, had you just thought. But it was true, Daryl was an attractive guy , there was no way of denying it, and it wasn’t the first time that you admired him.

You’d grown closer to him, during your weeks surviving together, and during the quiet nights at the quarry, or at least quiet when Merle shut up and fell asleep, in which you sat down next to Daryl in comforting silence, and sometimes you both even spoke…

Daryl could be a prick more often than not, he was harsh, sure he was. Just a day ago, you had a big, big fight with him, when he’d behaved like a prick after walkers attacked the quarry camp, when so many people had died…Even if you had tried to put in context that Daryl seemed to have just lost his brother, he’d been out of line, yelling those cruel things to everyone, as if he was heartless…but you knew he wasn’t heartless, you had seen his heart, how he seemed not to care, yet always helped you, how he strived to hunt and bring as much food as possible to the camp…but at that moment, he’d seemed to be a heartless asshole, and you’d been beyond upset and angry at him.

To your surprise, though, while you were packing your things, Daryl had gone to help you in silence, but you saw him stealing glances at you, and you thought he seemed remorseful. Later, you both had driven to the CDC in the pickup, sharing some words here and there, and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to be upset with Daryl. He seemed regretful, and so you had tried to move past your fight.

It was easy to forget about that now, with him smiling like that, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Yes…Daryl was an attractive guy, with those beautiful eyes, strong shoulders and arms…For a while now, you had idly thought now and then what it’d be like to have those arms wrapped around you, when you felt lonely, or sad, or lost, when your spirit was low…

It wasn’t just that he was attractive, though. If Daryl were a complete prick, you wouldn’t be wondering stuff like that, no matter how attractive he might be…but for weeks, you’d been wondering and thinking that Daryl was more than it seemed under all those layers of harshness…

As he drank and smiled now, teasing Glenn and just joking around, you couldn’t help a warm feeling in your belly, that got worse when you looked at Lori and Rick…you wanted that, or the closest thing possible, even if it was just for a night, but you didn’t want it with anyone, you wanted it with Daryl.

You weren’t sure how he’d react, though, or how to bring it up…what were you supposed to tell him? Do you want to hold me? We could even sleep together? Yeah…no…

Later, you walked with him back to your rooms for the night, still wondering how to ask Daryl, how to tell him what was in your head, if maybe it was a bad idea…but you really wanted it… His room was next to yours, and you called his name before he walked into his, still with no idea of what to say.

“Daryl…” You called for him, and he turned to look at you, arching an eyebrow. He smiled and it made something twirl in your belly… “I, uh…I was wondering…” That smile was just making it harder to focus and find words.  “How much have you drunk?”

Daryl snorted at that. “Dunno…more than in a while, why?”

“Just wondering if you’re drunk…I mean, you are…” You chuckled awkwardly. “But I mean, you know what you’re doing…right?” Otherwise, you wouldn’t try anything.

“I know what I’m doing.” Daryl was looking at you, seeming half confused half amused. “Might get drunker, though.” He waved the bottle of booze that he’d taken with him. “You wanna?” He lifted the bottle in your direction.

“No…no, I was thinking…wondering…” It couldn’t be that hard, why were you struggling to find words. “If maybe you wanted to…like…sleep in my room…” Well, sleep with you, rather, but those words didn’t make it past your lips.

Daryl frowned, and you were sure he was going to tell you off, but he seemed concerned. “You think this place ain’t safe?” Oh…he thought you were scared of sleeping alone in the room or that you didn’t trust the place…it was nice of him, to offer to stay with you if you were scared… Maybe you should content yourself with that…

“No…well, I don’t know, that doctor is a bit strange, but I don’t think that he’s going to murder us in our sleep…right?” Now that you had planted the seed in your brain, you couldn’t help but worry.

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think so…but yeah, there’s somethin’ off with the guy…Alright, if you wanna I can take watch while you sleep.” Daryl shrugged, looking down shyly.

“That’s not fair, you gotta sleep too, even more after all you drank…” You didn’t want Daryl not to sleep, in fact, you wanted him sleeping with those nice arms around you, and the fact that this night he seemed to have decided to be all caring and sweet wasn’t helping. “But…I didn’t mean that…what I mean…”

You felt stupid, struggling with words like that, and Daryl was looking at you with those caring and pretty eyes, and so you decided to just go ahead and show him, feeling braver with actions than with words. You stepped closer and leaned to peck his lips, feeling all kind of butterflies in your belly.

When you pulled back, Daryl looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. He seemed to want to say something, but no words made it past his lips as he just stared at you in shock, and you felt your cheeks heating up. “I’m sorry…I just…I didn’t…I…I’m sorry…” You rushed into your room, closing the door behind you, embarrassed…Daryl wasn’t drunk enough to not remember it in the morning, but you’d try to pretend that you’d been drunk and you didn’t remember that you had kissed him…this was going to be so awkward…

You face planted on the bed and you winced, that mattress was harder than you expected it. You shifted until you could bury your face on the pillow, the closest thing you can get to the earth swallowing you. Not much later, though, there were some knocks on the door.

You frowned and went to open the door, and when you found Daryl there, you almost freaked out. You didn’t know what to say, and Daryl wasn’t saying anything either, just looking at you as he chewed on his thumbnail, but then he made to walk in, and you automatically moved back so he could step into the room.

Daryl closed the door behind him and looked at you, still silent, and when you were about to ask if he needed something, awkward, he finally spoke.

“Why you did that?”

“Wha…kissing you?” You felt your cheeks heating again, and Daryl nodded, looking down. You considered saying that you were drunk, but Daryl didn’t seem mad…and so you decided to be brave and say the truth, if he reacted badly, you could keep your plan of pretending to have been drunk once morning came. “I just…I felt like it, I wanted to…”

Daryl was back at chewing his thumbnail, looking down, but then he glanced at you. “Yeah?” He murmured, and you nodded.

Daryl stepped closer at you and your heart sped up. His face was serious, and you wished you knew what was he thinking, but you couldn’t read him. Then, he leaned down and surprised you by pressing his lips to yours. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, and for a second, you were so shocked that you couldn’t kiss him back, but when you did, you felt Daryl’s hand cupping your cheek, fingers tangling in your hair, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him…

Now…

You had thought, back then, that it’d be a one-night thing between Daryl and you, unless he might want to join you any other night, but nothing else…you had been wrong. Since the next morning, Daryl had pretty much started treating you as if you were his girlfriend, and on your side, you weren’t about to complain, you had enjoyed it…little did you know, then, how deep and strong your relationship with Daryl would become.

But…you couldn’t say that you had “seduced” Daryl. You had just kissed him and hoped for the best. That wouldn’t work with Negan, considering that he kissed you whenever he wanted…maybe you should really start by kissing him back…

The next time that Negan kissed you, you forced yourself to kiss him back. Nothing spectacular, but you guessed that it was better than standing there frozen…

The other girls began sharing tips with you too, and also they’d try to boost your confidence in your seducing skills, either with words and tips, or dolling you up, doing your hair, makeup, choosing revealing outfits that you’d have never worn…every time that they did, you looked at yourself in the mirror, telling yourself that you weren’t you, but another woman, some sexy, seductive, black widow, on her way to eating another man for breakfast…

It was still hard to feel like that, though, you felt rather silly more often than not, but as you keep trying, practicing, and you kept looking so different from your usual self, you began to play your part better and better.

After a few days, you laughed at Negan’s bullshit and kissed him back easier, even tried to talk more “seductively” as some of the other girls were trying to teach you, even if you felt silly. In your head, you tried to see yourself as that other woman, that seductress, black widow, until one day you felt ready to try your luck and your skills at asking something from Negan.

You were sat down on his bed, half lying against the headboard, in which you hoped was a suggestive, seducing posture, even if you felt stupid, when the door opened and Negan walked inside, arching an eyebrow at you.

“So…they weren’t kidding when they said you were waiting for  me here…”

“I didn’t think it’d bother you…” You shrugged. “I wanted to see you alone.”

“Yeah?” Negan smirked, but he still seemed confused at what were you doing there. “You were alone with me a couple of days ago, but you need me again, don’t you?” He teased smugly and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I do need you,” you said, hoping to sound seductive. “I need…I need to ask you something.”

“Oh…there it is.” Negan chuckled, shaking his head and sitting on the bed. “You girls, always wanting something from me…sucking me dry and not in the way I want it.”

“We do suck you in the way you want it too,” you retorted and Negan let out a laugh.

“Yeah…that’s true…” Negan smirked, looking you up and down. “So tell me, doll…what is it.”

“I…” You tried to go back to when you’d rehearsed it with Abby. “I think I’ve been a good girl, so I deserve a treat, right?” You felt more silly than seductive speaking like that, but Negan just nodded, still looking at you with that smug smile. “I want…I want chocolate, I know you have some here…please?”

Negan blinked at you, and then he chuckled. “Chocolate? That’s what you wanted?”

You shrugged. “I love chocolate…we had some in Alexandria…please?”

“Chocolate…” Negan chuckled again…you guessed that he’d expected you to ask something more serious, but you wanted to wait for that until you had tried this first. “Of course, sweetcheeks, you’ve been a good girl these last days, I’ll get you your treat.” He reached out to stroke your hair and cup your face, and you did your best to smile. “You wait here, I’ll get it for you right now.”

Negan kissed you and you kissed him back as you had trained yourself to do. He got up from the bed and left the room, and you took a deep breath once the door closed behind him. It had gone well, you thought, Negan seemed to like how you were behaving lately and he’d gone to get you the chocolate right at that moment…but sure, chocolate wasn’t the same than letting your people out of the cages…But still, it was progress…

Negan came back, that smug smirk on his face as soon as he walked in, waving a bar of chocolate. “Your treat.”

“Thank you, Negan.” You smiled as he walked towards the bed.

“Come here,” he told you, and you shifted closer. He tore the envelope from the bar and broke a piece of chocolate. “Open your mouth.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and did as told. Negan placed the piece of chocolate in your mouth, smiling, and as you savored the sweetness, you closed your eyes and moaned aloud, even if you felt silly.

“Good girl,” Negan purred, and you opened your eyes to find him smirking at you. He broke another piece of chocolate and you opened your mouth as he wanted. This time, though, he kept one of his fingers in your mouth when he placed the chocolate. You knew what he wanted, and so you stopped yourself from bitting him as you wanted, and instead sucked on his finger.

Negan chuckled, pulling his hand back, and you forced yourself to moan again while you savored the chocolate. You hoped that all this show was good for something…although, the chocolate was nice, at least.

Negan moved to sit on the bed too, against the headboard. “Come here,” he said as he waved another piece of chocolate, and you crawled between his legs, opening your mouth so he’d give you the chocolate. You closed your eyes, enjoying it, and Negan chuckled. “You really do love chocolate.”

“Well….you know what they say…” You shrugged. “Chocolate is better than sex.”

Negan smirked at that. “Nah…better than sex with the redneck dog, you mean. Better than with me? No way.” He chuckled, and you almost dropped your façade, barely resisting the urge to punch him. Instead, you snapped the chocolate bar from his hand, and Negan chuckled again, seeming amused at you. “Now I wonder…how’s our dog Daryl in bed, uh?”

“I don’t want to talk about that…” You muttered, bitting off some chocolate, trying your best to behave, even if you didn’t feel like you could keep playing the seductress that day…you just wanted Negan to shut up.

“Come on, doll, don’t get mad…” Negan chuckled, taking back the chocolate bar and bitting a piece too. “I’m just saying…I know I’m better than him.” You barely stopped yourself from scoffing, and you remained silent, trying to hide how upset you were.  “Come on…” Negan broke another piece of chocolate and waved it in front of your face. “Say it, or you won’t get your treat.”

Once again, you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Yes, Negan, you’re the best ever, even better than chocolate.” You knew that Negan could tell you didn’t mean it, but he seemed amused anyway. He smirked, popping the chocolate piece in his mouth instead of yours.

“Good girl,” he purred, giving you that chocolate bar and another unopened. “There you have your treat, don’t eat it all at once,” he chuckled. “Now, put those aside and come here to see that I am better than chocolate indeed.”

*

Operation let’s try to play Negan without getting killed is on. I wonder how it’ll go.

If you enjoyed this, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, thanks.

Also, as always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

New taglist for Daryl, if you want to be tagged let me know and also, please, if you are not interested in being tagged anymore let me know too (I have way more people tagged than notes this gets and it makes me feel a bit down).

@jodiereedus22​​ @coffeebooksandfandom​​  @gruffle1​​ @twdeadlysins​​ @yenne-yen-illustrations​​ @mychemicalimagines​​   @haleypearce​​    @superflannel​​ @sourwolf-sterek32​​ @angelontheinside​​  @firehoopinmama​​ @lonewolf471​​   @hopplessdreamer​​ @daryldixonandfrogs​​  @fanfictionsilove​​   @collecting-stories​​ @princessxpunk​​ @hells-mistress​​ @justyouraveragefangirl1967​​ @carnationworld​​    @smiithys​​ @polkadottedpillowcase​​ @elisdays​​ @mysterious-398​​  @captainbuckyboobear​​   @dazzledamazon​​   @spidergirla5​​ @lilythemadqueen​​ @lightning-butterfly​​ @purplebtsmagic​​ @barra-cudaaa​​   @courtnytrash04​​ @amazingapricot​​      @seizethesam​​ @harpersmariano​​  @eternalslingshot​​  @fuseburner​​ @phoenixblack89​​  @boywivlove​​  @amaroho​​ @woundmetender​​  @classyunknownlover​​ @masterninjacow​​ @tenderlyunlikelyexpert​​ @shadowfoxey​​ @kaitieskidmore1​​ @lilac-day-dreaming​​ @datidixon​​ @sabrinabernal​​  @nj01​​ @rachelxwayne​​  @elamy17​​  @angelofthor @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @thanossexual​​ @daryldixonstorm​​​ @sttrawberries​​ @huffledor-able541​​ @lucillethings​​ @browneyes528​​ @soraitmnt​​​  @thereshallbenoother​​​ @chickenparmandstoicvulcans​​​ @leej2468​​​  @heartlessmarvello​​​ @itsmeempar​​​  @redneckstrash​​​ @bxxbxy​​​ @bitchynicole​​​ @pulplorrd​​​  @supernatural79impala​​​  @the-artistic-animal-lover​​​   @selfsun​​​ @thiccblondeliv​​​ @maggie-l-m​​​ @baseballbitch116​​​ @tranquiiit​​​ @sweatywildpanda​​​ @supernatural79impala​​ @theteaset​​​  @amaroho​​​ @my-current-fandom-is​​​ @sapphire1727​​​ @sapphire-angel​​​  @insidetoughcake @whitexwingedxdoves​​​ @nickangel13​​​ @oceans-daughter-3​​​  @tuttifuckinfruttifriday​

[ogravensimp]

Dad!Constantine AU: Rhiannon

first one shot in my Dad!Constantine AU but there is plenty more of this to come so enjoy and make sure to tell me what you think :D

"John? What's that? Is it a tool to help us practice today? John? Is tha-”

Constantine couldn't help but chuckle at the string of questions coming from behind him. He began to think about how less than a few months ago the little girl would barely say a word a day…now he can’t get her to ever shut up.

He turned around and looked down at the tiny figure that sat cross-legged on his rug, who only looked back up at him with confusion in her huge purple eyes. Unlike the ancient power that was leaking out of her, the child in front of him looked exactly as harmless as you'd expect a 7-year old to look.

With her dark-plum hair unevenly clipped short to reach her chin and choppy bangs to cover the red gem on her forehead, it really gave you the illusion that she was a normal human child. And John liked to pretend that the terrible haircut helped achieve a more ‘innocent’ look and in fact, better hid her demonic origins…but that was probably just his only defence against his conscience that nagged at him for not going to a professional.

But hey, she was the one that begged him to cut off her originally waist-length hair and he gave it his best shot with the tools at his disposal—which happened to only be a pair of kitchen scissors, an old magazine for reference and a faded ruler for 'accuracy', but at least Raven seemed happy enough.

He felt his lip tug as he remembered how she had childishly bobbed her head left and right in the mirror afterwards; enjoying the liberation of short hair.

It seemed Azarath’s refusal to cut her hair off was the only thing the kid seemed to dislike about the place.

In fact, she had thrown a near fit when John recommended they ditch the tattered white Azarathian robes he had found her in when he pulled her from the depths of hell. He looked at her current outfit and noted that she seemed to have grown quite comfortable with the human clothes given to her.

She currently donned a large purple knit sweater and a pair of baggy jeans with flowers sewn on the legs. They were probably in style twenty years ago and weren't even her size but John had limited knowledge on where to find children's clothes(or about children in general) and assumed she'd just 'grow into them someday' when he had chosen them from a local thrift store.

Again, as long as Raven liked them.

"This, my little angel, is a music record," he held up the square packaging to her and made a show of sliding out the large disk inside, "This plays music. They allow music up in that Azarath place of yours or just prayers?"

"In Azarath? No, not really," John noticed whenever that cult of her's was brought up, she'd always lower her tone and look down at her fingers as if apprehensive of speaking wrong of them—John didn't know why though, they sounded like a bunch of wankers to him, "Azar said that music is a distraction that would only disrupt my mind by causing me to feel...feelings."

John felt the melancholy in the air as she spoke. It was rare she shared anything; for a kid, she was pretty secretive and John couldn't help but push to know more about his new ward, "And that's a no go, ey?"

"Only for me." She seemed almost smaller now, trying to hide deeper in her baggy clothes—maybe that's why she never pushed for more accurately sized clothes, "The others would sometimes gather to sing mantras in the courtyard as that’s the only type of music allowed but during those times Azar would always put me in the highest tower so I never really heard anything but muffles.”

John sighed.

Sometimes he didn't know if those quacks in Azarath wanted to actually raise Raven or terminate her but the more he learnt, the more he found the answer leaning towards the latter.

He crossed the living room in one large step and kneeled to be face to face with the little girl who stared up at him, nervous, "Listen, angel, I don't know much about Azarathian chants but I do know...", this time he allowed the girl to touch the record—though gently, "Fleetwood Mac. The best band in the world."

"What makes them so special?", Raven asked softly as she marvelled at the disc in her hand; holding it like it was a precious treasure.

John smiled— something he found himself doing a lot of since the arrival of this certain hellspawn. Plucking the records from the girl's small hands, he stood up and reapproached the player he was standing by, "Let me tell you a little secret in the magical community, love."

He placed the record on the player before dropping the pin and quickly turning, excited to see the reaction on the girl's face. Raven just looked confused, her mini caterpillar eyebrows scrunching up on her forehead as the guitar intro began.

"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

He plopped onto the floor next to Raven and turned to her, "You hear her? Like a voice from heaven, innit?"

The little girl just nodded, probably unsure of the right answer.

"Takes to the sky like a bird in flight And who will be her lover?"

"Her name is Stevie Nicks and she's...one of us," He made a gesture of pointing between both of them to symbolise his point, his smile growing as her amethyst eyes twinkled in interest, " The 'White Witch' we call her but non-supernatural's don't know nothing about that, all they hear is the music but we, we can truly hear her."

"All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind

Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?"

Taking her tiny palms in his, he instructed, “Now I want you to focus on your inner soul.”

She obediently followed instructions, letting her eyes fall closed and she instantly shifts to focus mode with an expression as still as a statue.

"She is like a cat in the dark And then she is to darkness

She rules her life like a fine skylark And when the sky is starless"

Through her delicate skin, he could feel her once-raging magic begin to ease from the form of a ceaselessly pouring tsunami to simple irregular waves in a vast ocean.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

See, with Stevie Nicks being a witch herself, it only makes sense that some of her magic got laced inro all her music. Magic that had the properties to almost soothe one's magical core and opened up internal gates that were causing a blockage in one's being.

Similar to meditation. Just a whole lot more fun.

John simply didn’t believe in all that meditation stuff that Raven so pliably relied on and if he was going to take her in, it was his duty to teach her the many other ways she can control her abilities.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

"I can feel it...I can feel what she's saying." Raven's voice was so soft that John almost didn't catch what was spoken.

Suddenly there was an intense spike in the calm aura that's once surrounded them. He felt the hands in his grasp tense as her once still expression drastically changed.

"She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her?"

Her small face was soon blown in full panic. Sweating like bullets, her already drained of life skin seemed even paler and the strength she used to struggle suppressed what a child of her stature should be able of achieving but John made sure to hold tight.

"She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover? All your life you've never seen Woman taken by the wind"

"John I don't like this! I...I can feel too much... make it stop!", Her eyelids shuddered as she seemed to be forcing them to stay shut.

Continuing to wiggle in his grasp, the magic concentration in the room got thicker and thicker making it harder to breathe but this was exactly what needed to happen and John knew this. So even though her hurting voice made his heart shatter, he had no choice but to steel his resolve in the face of her cries and just hope it will pay off, “John!? John, please….DAD!”

John didn’t know what hurt more, the way her demonic magic was stabbing him like shards of glass in his skin or the pain in her voice as she called him the title he never in his life thought he’d be referred as.

"Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win? Will you ever win?"

“This is all your magic, angel, you got to feel your magic. Can't just lock it up, this is all you,”, he gritted his teeth while he was explaining, and filled with some unknown determination, he spat out a phrase he normally tried to avoid, “you have to trust me.”

Raven’s eyes flew open at that, revealing the orbs of amethyst that were wetting with tears. Her little mind struggled to wrap around the statement John had just said and for a moment she just stared at him. It felt like the longest moment of John’s life because he knew her empathic abilities could see the nervous wreck he truly is and he worried that would dissuade her.

For a second there was no action.

"Rhiannon Rhiannon Rhiannon"

Until, much to John’s surprise, she nodded, “ok…I trust you.”

And John could literally feel the truth in her words as she stopped struggling in his hands and started to return back to the focused zone she had been in before.

This time though, her eyes were open and staring straight at him but John found himself not minding.

“Good.” John took on the role of closing his eyes as he began to concentrate.

"Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky" "Taken by taken by the sky"

He wasn’t going to just burden a 7-year-old with whatever destructive sorcery that was sealed in her small body, it was his job as her teacher and her…dad to try and guide the freed magic back to her core.

But for that, he needs to concentrate real hard.

The moment John could feel air moving in his lungs again, he knew he had succeeded. Opening his eyes up, he was met with the same pools of purple still staring.

“So, how’d you feel?”

"Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind Dreams unwind Love's a state of mind"

That was when Raven finally broke eye contact and instead looked down at her fingers, not in nervousness but this time in amazement, as if she could see the magic in her fingertips, “I don’t know…tingly.”

This time Constantine let a deep genuine laugh escape his throat at her childish choice of words, “That’s good, means your magic is finally spreading. If you ask me that’s a better option than keeping it all sealed up.”

Raven tilted her head to the side, once again confused.

Constantine didn’t blame her though, her little head was probably going through something similar to a whirlwind at this point.

After all, in her first few years of life, she had lived a life of nothing but restriction and then he spawns from nowhere finds and brings her from hell, seals her oh-so scary father in said hell and then begins to dismantle everything she’s ever been thought to believe in, in the first place.

Must be a lot for a 7-year-old to bear.

Luckily though, Raven is 7 and they aren’t known for dwelling on things for too long.

“Do you have any more songs like that?” She asked, now focused on the player that stood in silence now that the record had reached its end.

John smirked at that, “Oh plenty more of where that came from and we aren’t gonna stop at just Fleetwood, we got some Zeplin, Rolling Stones and…”

Raven just nodded, again, not knowing the right answer and simply letting herself be ‘educated’ on all things that John Constantine had to offer.

In her opinion, this was far more fun than her old teachings.

yes I got the Stevie Nicks is a witch from ahs coven, so expect a lot more supernatural TV crossovers in this AU cause they're now my obsession

[lord-explosion-baku]

Lying Is A Formal Pleasure

Yandere!Hawks x Pro Hero!Reader

Forced into a “relationship” to better your image, you agonize through the night as you pretend to be head over you heels in love with a douchebag. 

warnings: non consensual touching, light violence

A/N: I posted this a few months ago, but after a bad mental health night, I deleted it like a day later. But now I’m screaming over my oneshot inactivity and the 80 WIPs that remain unfinished, so I figured I’d post something that’s done fhjfv. :’D

Blinking flashbulbs and whispering onlookers flood your audio and visual spaces, forcing you to pause while you take a moment to gather yourself, swaying uneasily in the too-high heels you’ve been forced into. You’re close to being overwhelmed when Hawks places a smooth hand on the small of your exposed back, ushering you closer to his side. He waves to a camera flickering with a red dot, the one that tells the two of you that you’re live on air. The warm impression of his fingers on your skin offers you an insincere sense of security. You’re not as used to being on screen as your ‘lover,’ so you let him take the lead. It’s easier this way, as resentful as you are to admit it.

A thin woman in a red dress holds a microphone up between the two of you and asks if the happy couple has high hopes in regards to their award nominations. Hawks, always quick to flash a charming grin, leans into the mic and says, “we’re both just very honored to be here.”

It’s not like him to be so humble, especially not when he has an audience, but your publicist recently advised you that although his pride is fitting for his singular image, nobody quite likes a power couple who, in her words, “thinks they’re the shit.” People want to see bashful, blossoming love. They want to see you be together, grow together, and develop together. You have to be shy—show that you’re excited to be by his side, and he has to be supportive—happy to introduce you to the sensational side of being a hero. It’s all a facade, even your relationship, but if you stay true to your new role, your popularity will see a serious incline.

Hawks runs his hand up your spine and you get a chill when you realize that the reporter asked you a question: how long have the two of you been together?

“Oh-” you start, shifting to look up at your partner. Amber eyes bare down on you and you swallow dryly, trusting that you look enchanted, rather than sick to your stomach. If you were to be honest with her, you’d say, ‘too long,’ but it’s not your job to be honest tonight. You have to be delightful and charming, cute and coy. So instead, you timidly blink up at Hawks, cover your shy grin with your elegantly gloved hand while leaning into him, and say, “nearly two months.”

The number two hero chuckles, moving his hand over to your side to squeeze it a little harder than necessary. He’s telling you one thing: wrong answer.

“Well, she says two months, while I say three.” Hawks is all confidence and little to no self-doubt. In a way, he’s everything you want to be, and every time you think about it in that light, the more you seem to detest him. You hate that you virtually need him in this respect to get you where you want to be in your career. You hate that he’s living this farce up. “It took my little angel a while to finally agree to go on a date with me. Even then, I knew that we were meant to be together.” His eyes slide back to you, and his tone takes a dark edge that nobody besides you will be able to pick up on. “From the very first moment I laid my eyes on her.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Hawks had barrated you to go out with him for about a month before your publicist told you it would be good for your public image to have a pro—the number two pro—by your side. Apparently, you and him work well because of your quirk: siren. Her reasoning is that you sing just like birds sing. Hawks is a bird. Therefore, you and him should go hand-in-hand. The public aptly named your relationship birdsong and you’ve already done a photoshoot where you had to pose behind a golden birdcage where Hawks sat inside, gripping onto the cage’s bars, staring up at you while you had your lips pursed subtly, pantamiming a song. The irony of your situation is that there is a metaphorical prison in your fake relationship, but it’s not Hawks who sits in the cage. The second irony of your situation is that hawks don’t sing at all; they prey.

“Awwww,” the reporter whines in a shrill, albeit melodramatic voice, looking adoringly from you to Hawks, “I couldn’t imagine how anybody could ever say no to you! That must’ve put a damper on your ego! Poor thing.”

Hawks shrugs like he does—another thing you despise. You can smell the smugness wafting off his chest that seems to puff up as he speaks. “I knew she was just playing hard to get.” He winks at you, sliding his hand down to sit not so obediently at your hip. You feel him drifting towards your ass cheek, and you struggle to not change your fraudulent smile into a full on sneer. “And she knew I liked the challenge.”

The reporter’s eyes aren’t even on you when she asks, “really, how could you say no to this dreamboat? I certainly wouldn’t be able to!”

If you want him, you can take him, you think tartly as you maneuver your arm around Hawks. He makes a sort of low, sort of grunting noise when you lace your fingers through his heavy feathers, and you realize that this might be the first time you’ve actually touched his wings. You’re bitter to admit that the feel of them in your hands are soft to the touch—enjoyable, almost. They might be the most redeeming thing about him.

You tighten your hand into a fist and tug, softly at first, but when you feel him tense next to you, you pull a little tighter, enjoying the brief sadism break you allow yourself.

“I must have been too darn shy at first!” Your words are syrup dribbling over glass. You wrench your hand, twisting into Hawks’ wings. He clears his throat in an attempt to cover up a groan, his hold on your side worsening infinitesimally. “Or maybe I just couldn’t believe that the number two hero was actually interested in me. Honestly? I was starstruck! I thought I was being used for some kind of joke!”

“Hah…” Hawks’ thumb rubs circles in your back when you guide your hand along the stream of his wings and grab at a different bunch of feathers. He whispers, “take it easy, chickadee…’

But you don’t want to take it easy. Hawks’ cheeks redden a bit more every time you move your fingers through his wings. He must be incredibly uncomfortable and you take pride in the fact that, for once, it’s not you who’s suffering. You lean into his shoulder, offer the reporter woman a smile so sickly sweet, you can practically feel sugar coating your gums when you say, “now every day I get to spend with him is a dream come true!!”

One of Hawks’ eyes twitches when you give the tuft of feathers in your hold a final twist. He spreads his palms wide on your back, and slowly curls his fingers inward, pulling on your skin.

After a few more questions, the reporter notices Hawks glancing down to the large hall being used as the ceremony venue, and thanks the both of you for indulging the public with information about your relationship. Sending a final wink to the camera, Hawks guides you through arched doors and nods at a few other well-known heroes attending the ceremony. You sneak away when you think Hawks is about to get lost in another conversation, but when you slip into an empty lounge reserved for award nominees, he’s right on your heels.

Ignoring his presence completely, you fix yourself a drink at an unattended minibar. You swirl the ice around in your glass and finally turn to scowl at your partner. He looks off, or not very present, still smirking, but dazed. Maybe he tied his tie too tightly, and he’s blocking the blood flow to his brain. You grin at the thought of choking him out while you sip on your beverage. Hawks grins back.

Engulfing and consuming the space around you, he takes a confident step towards you. You feel nothing short of a shadow to a tree with his wings puffed out and spread proudly like they are.

“Nervous?” He asks, placing a hand on the bar as he leans closer to you. You give him a half-hearted shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Even if Hawks knows you're uncomfortable, you aren’t willing to show him an inch of fear.

“You shouldn’t be,” he goes on, staring at your lips. He watches you suck down your drink and clears his throat. “You were great out there.”

“Believable?” You ask sarcastically, licking your bottom lip. You reach out to stroke the inside of his wings, running your hands along his feathers teasingly slow, enjoying the sight of each row of his crimson plume twitch down along with your touch.

“Believable,” he chuckles. “I had no idea that I was your dream come true.”

You scoff and place your empty glass down. “Mhm, my everlasting, waking nightmare.” You bring your arm back to your hip. “I’m truthful when I can be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a goofy half-grin. It’s off-putting. He isn’t any less sharp than usual, but there’s something about him right now that has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, grabbing your wrist. You snap it back immediately.

“Oh, please.” You push past him, intentionally brushing into his wings, and begin strutting away.

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” he rasps, hooking you sideways. Both of his hands curl around your hips, and you’re immediately pulled back against him. “Have I ever told you how sexy your back is?”

“Get off of me,” you say without enthusiasm, because it’s not the first time he’s gotten handsy with you in closed spaces. Call yourself jaded, but it’s something that you’re semi-used to. So, when he doesn’t let up, all you can do is roll your eyes and fetch your compact mirror out of your clutch. While you fix your lips, Hawks lays his chin on your shoulder. His eyes find yours, and though they’re looking straight at you, they are, at once, incredibly ambiguous and eerily hyperfocused. He squeezes his arms around your torso, then brushes his lips across your cheek. Against your stubborn will, your stomach flips when he plants kisses on your jaw and trails down to your neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin, making your shift around in his embrace. That's when you feel a stiffening behind you.

“Hawks, what the hell are you doing?”

“Shame on you-“ his breath is hot on your ear- “touching me like that on camera, baby? Who knew my angel could be so naughty…”

You jerk your elbow back into his gut.

“I never touched you,” you seethe, ready to actually throw hands, when he rushes you forward, pushing you against the bar so that you’re lodged between it and him. Hot blood floods your face when you feel him pulse against your ass, and it doesn’t help when he snakes a hand through the back opening of your dress, sliding around to cup your stomach. He pulls you back so his bulge rubs between your cheeks.

“You’re seriously crossing the line right now!” You push against the bar, trying to bump him back, but he crowds you with his wings, shrouding you just like the metaphorical birdcage you’ve been stuck in for two—three months. You grasp a fistful of his feathers and yank on them hard, but he only snickers in response.

“Oh, little dove,” he groans, rocking his pelvis against your ass. It’s like he doesn’t even hear your protests. “Fuck. How’d you know I like it rough?” He kisses the hollow of your throat and hums appreciatively when you reluctantly shudder in response. “You have no idea how badly I wanna slip my cock into you right now. Finally wipe that sour look off your face as I drive myself in, inch by inch.” His fingers move down to pet your pubic bone. You want to scream in defiance when you feel a flash of liquid heat pool between your thighs. He dips in between your folds and he croons. “Bet you’d hug me nice and tight too. You don’t spread your legs for just anybody, do you babygirl?”

“Certainly not for you,” you rebuke. You grasp your abandoned glass, smash it against the bar, and spin yourself around, swiping your makeshift weapon across the number two hero’s face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence that falls between you two. A streak of red falls from the cut on Hawks’ cheeks and falls in spots on the whites in between his tuxedo coat. He dabs at the wound and examines the blood on his fingers, then his chest.

He snickers.

“Oh man, I wonder what they’ll think about this.” He shakes his head, grinning. “What do I tell ‘em: we were getting a little too frisky in the lounge, or do I lie and say it was an accident?”

“You can tell whoever, whatever you want,” you mumble. You know you should apologize for the sanctity of your status, but seeing his blood is cathartic to you, in a way. At least, until he speaks again.

With a clever fox smile, smug as the king of hell, Hawks drawls out, “the rising hero, Siren, is unstable and shouldn’t be trusted by the public.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. Hawks’ grin crawls wider, contented by your reaction to his threat.

“I was telling her not to get her hopes up about the awards ceremony. ‘There are a lot of other promising heroes gunning for The Best New Hero award,’ is what I told her, and she lost it…”

“Hawks—“

“She came at me with a glass she broke on the bar. Honestly, I’ve been worried about her drinking habits since day one, but I didn’t do enough to help her with the issue. In a way, it’s my fault this happened.”

“It is your fault!” You stomp your heel and throw an accusatory finger into his chest. “You attacked me!”

“Who do you think they’ll believe, sweetheart?” Hawks takes your hand in his, brings the back of your wrist up to his mouth, and kisses it. “The new hero with a pretty face, pretty voice, but is otherwise unknown, or me? Hero numero dos: Japan’s most trusted.”

You glare at him and he loves it. He enjoys every minute he puts you through mental turmoil.

“I could tell them it was an accident,” he sings, looping an arm around your waist to briskly pull flush up against him. You let him, but keep your head turned so you don’t meet his gaze. He continues—“but you’d have to make it up to me, little dove.”

His wings fall over you, shrouding you closer to him. He presses his lips to your temple, but doesn’t kiss you—doesn’t even speak again. He’s waiting for you to ask how.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you say into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he hums, the vibration of his voice buzzing down your neck, “we can just end your career tonight.”

“Hawks.”

“Don’t act like you’re not soaking wet right now. I felt that cunt, babe. Turns out, I’m not the only one who likes it rough.” He turns your head to face him. “You want me-“ he sneers-“and I didn’t even have to stroke your feathers to get you there.”

You close your eyes when his lips greet yours. The kiss is quick, but it lingers like old faith. If you let him in, he’ll stay there. You know that. But he’s backed you into a corner.

“You’re my girl,” he coos, “and I wanna be civil—I do, baby. You know I only want what’s best for us. But you’re gonna have to meet me halfway in order to get us where we need to be. Do you understand?”

Us...we…He throws those words around as if they matter. Then again, they do matter. They must, to him at least, but not to you. The only thing you really care about is me. Still, you nod.

“I’m gonna need you to say it, Siren.”

You sigh. “Yes, Hawks. I understand.”

“Good!” He chirps enthusiastically, any dark tone he previously took vanished. He spins you around to face the door that leads back to the hall. At first, you think he’s going to continue where he left off, but his hand finds its place at the small of your back, and he guides you forward.

“Now, let's go win us some awards,” Hawks says, bringing his hand down to pat your ass, “then we can make sure both of our dreams come true.”

[bigskydreaming]

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go. 

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you. 

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her  themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome. 

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily. 

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did. 

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking  his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame. 

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later. 

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

My Brother

Summary: When Inko is fifteen she is handed a picture of her and a blonde boy. She asks who it is. "Your brother. Your parents gave him up because he was Quirkless." Inko spends the next part of her life looking for her brother, only for her son to pull him into her house one day, announcing he found Uncle Toshinori. 

On AO3

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  When Inko was fifteen, her aunt pulled her to the side and handed her a photo. The photo featured her as a little baby, green hair showing above her head, dressed in a little jumper with a pacifier in her mouth. She’s being held awkwardly by a blond boy with big blue eyes, a big grin across his face.

  “Who’s this?” She asked her aunt, curious.

  “Your brother.” Her aunt told her.

 “What?” Inko asked. She looked at the photo again. “Is… what happened?” She asked her aunt, clutching it in her hand.

  “Your parents waited for his Quirk. He didn’t have one.” Her aunt told her, blunt. Her aunt’s hands were threaded together, clutching each other. “They didn’t like that.”

  “... but they work with Quirkless Discrimination agencies. They donate money to…” Inko began but her mind began clicking, thinking.

  Her father’s slight sneer when talking about Quirkless people when they were home, just the family. Her mother’s muttering about donating money being a pain.

  “... they’re pretending.” She whispered. Her aunt nodded.

  “They are. Its status, it’s trendy. Pretending you aren’t a bigot.” Her aunt shrugged. Inko didn’t want to believe. She gave the photo back anyway when her aunt asked her.

 She had to talk to them.

 -0-

  “YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF LIARS!” She screamed at her father. “He was my brother-“

  “He was useless to us!” Her father snapped. “Quirkless- worth nothing in the long run. Your useless Quirk at least makes you a viable bride-“

  “GO TO HELL!” She screamed and ran up to her room.

  “Calm down, she’ll understand. He wasn’t worth it.”

  Screw that. She grabbed her cell phone and called her aunt.

  “Auntie, can you bring your truck?”

  “Of course.”

  It didn’t take long for Inko to pack up what she needed. She ignored the knocking of her mother when it happened and she waited.

  Her aunt showed up.

  “Haruka! Why are you here?” She heard from downstairs and came down, carrying a few bags.

  “The rest are upstairs. I refuse to be in a house of hypocrites.” Her parents didn’t like it, yelling she was overreacting.

  Her threat to tell everyone the truth about her brother had them letting her go.

  Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe. She thought so the moment she got in her aunt’s big grey truck, the one she used to deliver things. She looked to the front door where her parents were glaring at her aunt who stood with her arms crossed.

  Her tall aunt, blonde hair hanging down her back, like her brother’s, Inko’s father. She was tall, tough. Inko looked up to her. Ever since she was a little kid and her aunt had thrown her father into a wall when he’d dared hit Inko.

  “You treat your kid right or I’ll hurt you.” She’d threatened.

  Inko blinked, mind going to many incidents in her life where her aunt had stepped in to stop them from hurting Inko. Where her aunt had told her to not listen to her mother who picked at her appearance, where her aunt had snuck her food when her mother forced her into a diet. Where her aunt had given her money and helped her open a bank account her parents had no control over and had fought with her parents who tried to demand she give them the information.  

  Sitting in the truck, she realized that maybe… the fact they would do that, lie like that… that was the final straw.

 -0-

  Living with her aunt was different. Inko found herself smiling more. Her aunt had a sense of humour that encouraged loud laughter. She never made Inko do anything she didn’t want and even let her drop out of some clubs that her parents had made her go to.

  Inko found herself happy for the first time in a long time as she and her aunt tried to find out how to find her brother.

  It was hard though. The files weren’t kept and her parents had given up all custody and signed multiple forms. As well, it had been fourteen years back.

  Then her aunt got sick. Very sick.

  “Cancer,” the doctors told her. “Pancreatic- most likely from all the chemicals she transported over the years.”

  Pancreatic. Even in the 23 century, it was impossible to cure. Medical research in cancer and other such diseases had tapered off when Quirks became a thing. More focus was on that for a good fifty years or so. Then after that more focus was on other sorts of diseases brought around by Quirks or researching how to help people affected by Quirks.

  “I’m not dying until you’re old enough to be an adult.” Her aunt grunted when Inko asked her how she was feeling. “Eighteen kiddo.” She bared her teeth. “Gotta hold on.”

  Inko was eighteen and just finally finished high school when her aunt died. Her aunt had been living at home still, stubborn and refusing to go to hospice.

  Inko came home after a night out after graduating high school to find her dead.

  The funeral was a hard affair, her parents at least respectful enough to not start anything until after when they tried to get her to move back in with them.

  “I was already accepted into university and will be living in the dorms. As well I told them you are not allowed to ever call and change anything about my classes or living arrangements.”

  They were so mad and she got a call from the dorm manager who told her that they’d had several calls from them within a week. Each time demanding she not be allowed to room there or threatening them.

  None worked. Inko ended up cutting off contact with some help from a friend she made in a study group, Midoriya Hisashi. He was so handsome and kind. He also understood her struggles.

  “I grew up in the foster system for a good portion of my life. I got adopted at fourteen and… they weren’t good. Obsessed with the idea of being my parents, burning things I had of my biological parents. They were the sort of abusers who were kind, the ones you don’t realize are hurting you.”

  It was like Inko and her own. She didn’t know their controlling behaviours, their actions were abuse.

  Not until her aunt and her brother.

  Soon after a few heart to hearts, they started dating, something that her roommate Mitsuki loved.

  “He’s freaking handsome, you go girl!”

  When Inko graduated with a degree in culinary arts, Hisashi proposed while heading to law school.

  They got married the summer after. During that time though they discovered that Hisashi’s adopted parents died. Inko made the choice to try and let her own parents back into her life because she saw how much it hurt him.

  “He’s so nice honey-“ Her mother said when they got in, stopping at seeing one of the photos in their apartment. Her and her brother.

  Inko kept an eye on her mother after that, right up to the time she caught the woman trying to take it down.

  “Stop it!”

  “He’s not your brother he’s some      thing-    “ Inko didn’t let her say another word and shoved her out.

  She didn’t talk to them again.

  “Please don’t regret it,” Hisashi told her.

  “I won’t,” Inko told him.

  She continued to look for her brother, her husband helping. But it was hard. Harder, even more, when she became pregnant at age 28, just when Hisashi was finishing law school. They took a break, Inko going on maternity leave from the bakery she was working at.

  She gave birth to a perfect little boy she loved dearly. Hisashi loved him too, even as his work became demanding. Being part of a hero’s legal team was hard after all. Especially a destructive one like the Empire who could cause earthquakes by accident.

  Mitsuki already had a son named Katskii herself and the two hoped their sons would become friends, and it looked like they would though Inko worried. Katsuki was a headstrong little boy who seemed to love bossing others around. He was sometimes mean to Izuku and his meanness was cruel in ways she knew could cause problems.

  Mitsuki at least also saw it. But her own parenting didn’t work well.

  “My parents used to slap me around,” she told Inko blankly. “My dad once held my head underwater for a minute because I pissed him off. I… I try you know? But… where’s the line?”

  “My parents controlled every aspect of my life. They would force me on diest when I was already too thin, would go through my emails and phone. My dad hit me too, but my aunt… she stepped in each time.” Inko told her back. They both knew already, but it was nice to talk about.

  When her son, Izuku, was four though she sat in a doctor’s office and heard the worst discussion of Quirklessness in her life.

  “That test hasn’t been allowed to diagnose Quirklessness for twenty-years!” she shouted at the doctor. “Blood test, now!” The doctor was pissed and refused so she stomped out with her son, making sure each parent in the waiting room knew the doctor was using outdated medical information before rescheduling an appointment with a different doctor.

  Inko was darkly pleased that Dr. Tsubasa ended up being reprimanded and forced to take more classes. There was some issue with his grandson but his parents dealt with that.

  Yet, when the blood tests came back, Izuku was diagnosed as Quirkless.

  “He has no Quirk himself, though we believe any child he has with a Quirked individual will have a much more powerful Quirk than their other parent.” the doctor said. He was nicer at least. Izuku was so fragile, so small about this as they went home. He watched his favourite hero video, Inko watching from the door to the office.

  “...Mama, can I be a hero too?” little Izuku said. Inko felt like breaking down. She didn’t think so. Izuku was so small, so little. And she had never heard about a Quirkless hero. But then she thought of her brother.

  “I don’t know sweetie,” she finally admitted. She walked up to him and knelt down, hugging him. “But… I think you can do your best.” It wasn’t enough and she knew it but she also knew too well the Quirkless statistics.

  That was the first night she told Izuku about her brother. She showed him the picture and explained.

  “I won’t be like my parents,” she promised him. And she wouldn’t. Hisashi promised as well, and the two worked hard to make sure he was happy.

  Inko did eventually go back to work when Izuku was five, hoping and praying her son would be okay.

  She knew he was lying when he came home with ruined clothes and claimed it was all accidents. She knew he was lying when he tried to claim he was okay. But she couldn’t do anything. Not without actual proof.

  She hoped Katsuki was helping her son.

  She had a terrible feeling he wasn’t.

 -0-

  Inko and Hisashi began talking about opening a cafe when Izuku was six. The little boy was all for it, offering ideas and his own thoughts. They were happy. Inko still looked for her brother but she had accepted it might never happen. Izuku dreamed of being a hero. Hisashi was doing well at work.

  And then…

  Empire accidentally destroyed his own agency. Lost control.

  Hisashi didn’t make it.

  The large payout from the agency plus the Hero Public Safety Commission was enough for Inko to not have to work for years if they were careful.

  It didn’t fix a single thing.

  Inko would admit she lost herself for a year, completely unable to think or do anything. She wandered her apartment blankly.

  It took her son hiding a broken wrist from her to snap her out of it. She was horrified and she marched into the school to scream at them. She listed exactly what she knew about anti-Quirkless Discrimination laws, and what she could do to them.

  Izuku stopped being hurt that bad. But emotional abuse from his peers and teachers was harder to figure out.

  Inko began to work on the cafe again, as well as she began helping out at rallies on anti-Quirkist ideas. Inko also made sure Izuku knew he could go to her no matter what, but also tried not to be her parents. She tried not to butt in at any time and let him live his own life.

  As he got older she wondered if she should try more. If her hands-off approach was as bad as her own parent’s actions to her.

  But she was terrified. She didn’t want to be them.

  Inko watched as her son got older, as he got more secretive and worried. She tried to get him into programs but each time she was refused. Or they would let him go but then stop, saying he kept having people come and harass him.

  “Then why is it his fault?” she asked them. They shrugged.

  It was just easier to get rid of him than others. Izuku got very quiet after that and stopped wanting to do extra things.

  She worried and worried and she would look at the photo of her brother. She wondered if the worry she had would be for him as well. If she had grown up with an older brother who was hated, who had to fight to be respected by anyone.

  She was pretty sure she’d be more of a mess.

 She also imagined though, a tall man coming in to help with Izuku. Who would help fight against the school. Who would be with her through the death of Hizashi.

  She often stared at the photograph of her and her brother, wondering what if.

  The cafe she started had a copy of the photograph and any person making any Quirkist comments was thrown out in seconds. She provided a safe space for everyone, and she found that by doing so she got a lot of customers from people who struggled to find a place in society.

  It attracted other attention to, including a man she was fairly certain was an underground hero who came in with a black jumpsuit, getting the darkest coffee. He was a nice enough man though, and Inko found herself enjoying conversations with him. Mostly about cats or his loud friend she wanted to tell him was hitting on him.

  When a loud man came in asking for the ‘regular coffee order’ for the jumpsuit guy she stared him down.

  “Ask him out, we’re all done with his pining.” The man spluttered. “He talks about you nonstop. I don’t know his name, he pays with cash. He has mentioned you though enough I can recognize you on site. Ask him out please.”

  Shuichi, one of the cafe workers snorted. “We’re all done. Please just date him already.” The lizard-like teen continued to work while the blonde spluttered but did leave with the regular coffee and an order for himself.

  A week later both showed up, holding hands.

  “Yay! The pinning is over!” Shuichi said from where he was trying to help Izuku with math, his angry mutters about how the teachers were purposely fudging his grades making Inko plan another trip to the school to threaten them.

  “Yay!” Izuku laughed, the nine-year-old grinning at the nasty look he got. “You don’t scare me. I saw you sneak a cat in here in your scarf.”

  Inko found herself laughing harder than ever that night, and the two- Shouta and Hizashi- became friends of the family.

  As time continued to tick by, even with moments like the one where she made friends with the two she kept worrying. As Izuku got more and more nervous about school, as she saw scars he kept claiming she was mistaken about. As Mitsuki began whispering her worries over her son and how the school seemed to not worry over his anger or his attitude, as they seemed to ignore it.

  She tried to talk to him but didn’t know what to do. She felt lost.

  Then, he was fourteen and came home with a smile on his face and a spark in his eyes. He spoke happily and told her of his plan to start working out soon. She smiled and told him she was proud. It was March, nearing the end of his second year of middle school and she was happy he was happy.

  A week into his spring vacation, he opened the door to the apartment holding the hand of a tall blonde man. She frowned.

  “Izuku?” she asked him before she got a good look at the man. Her eyes widened at seeing that face.

  “Mom… I found uncle Toshinori.”

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Is Shuichi who you think it is? Yes. Originally I was like: this is just an AU where it just so happens All Might is Inko’s brother but then my brain went: okay but- so Spinner is good in this AU as he managed to find a job with Inko and is the older brother figure to Izuku.

Hope you guys liked this! Next part would be a One Shot from All Might's perspective then we actually get the story-story from Izuku's!