#on wednesday. and i’m like brother. that’s the day that makes the least sense. anyone can understand that. it’s thanksgiving prep day hello

[chubbyreaderchan]

I get the joy of rediscovering you | Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word count: 2500~

TW: hints at an abusive past for the reader and Bo, reader has neglectful parents, but it was the 80s, underaged drinking, and smoking, vaguely mentions their first time (teens), fat shaming, oh and murder, Bo isn't angry fanon Bo... at least not entirely, female rader

Bo’s evening started with a text message from Lester.

‘I got a broken-down car. You want me to bring her?’

‘Yep’

He put on his finest suit and slicked back his dark hair. He looked in the mirror and he was the model church boy. Innocent as all get out. Bo grinned at himself. He knew he was a looker and Lester tipping him off to a young lady got his blood pumping.

There was a stillness in the church, the eyes on the dead preacher always seemed to stare into his soul. He was used to it; this was a typical Wednesday evening. The heavy wooden doors to the church opened and he put on a faux angry face.

Bo froze. He wanted to attack the woman there, but he couldn't scold her, but now he blended in with the wax figures that surrounded him. He held so still.

He knew her.

Bo had to change tactics. He didn’t know if he could kill her.

He steps outside the church to find her walking off quickly, her plump body has hardly changed in the last 16 years.

"Y/N?!” he called out to her.

She turned around and the shock on her face followed by realization stirred something up in Bo.

But, in order to preserve her memory, he needed to kill her.

If she had changed from who she was all those years ago, it might just ruin him.

Her smile still had the power to make his knees jelly. Her smile which was once a bright light in his dark soul was tainted with life and age.

She didn’t deserve that.

She never did.

The first day she met him, she was so sweet to him it made his teeth hurt. It was the first year after his parents died and the first time he lived in a foster home.

Hell, it was the first time he had been to a city, let alone lived in one. He missed his brothers.

Not that he would admit it, pop would’ve called him a wimp if he'd have said something like that.

He stabbed at the sugar syrup-coated peaches on his plastic lunch tray, alone at the end of an empty table.

“Watch where you’re walking, fat bitch," a voice said.

He turned to look, seeing Y/N being berated by some blonde cheerleader type. Bo rolled his eyes at the back of the teen’s head. He wasn’t a fan of bullies. Years of sticking up for his kid brothers built a strange sense of chivalry in him in that way.

That and the pleading look you gave him stirred something in him. In a few words, you were his type on a purely physical level. Your fat rolls and the overall softness of your look was exactly what he liked. Perhaps it stemmed from his mother, avoiding all and anyone who even brought her to mind, or perhaps it was simply what he liked.

Bo and Y/N made eye contact for a moment. He grabbed his one single folder and pencil, providing her a place of refuge in the sea of ignorant teenagers.

As she sat across from him, she smiled despite how he would have handled that bitch.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m Y/n”

Bo picked up his paper carton of chocolate milk and took a swig.

“Bo,” he replied.

He had no idea how much that would impact the course of that year.

Hell, Bo never thought he was one that deserved love. He never dated anyone after her, sure he would leave town and hook up with any dumb bitch he could find.

Even on rare occasions, if the right tourist came along, he would use them before killing them.

“Bo? Bo Sinclair?” she asked him. “I am so sorry for interrupting your service,”

She already knew his parents were dead.

“Don’t worry about it,” He smiled.

Bo realized how genuine and natural his smile was for her. He kicked himself internally.

“Just some old biddy,” he waved it off.

That was disrespectful. It was his mother’s body in there after all.

But she didn’t need to know that yet.

“But still, you cared about her enough to make it to her funeral. She had to have meant something to you, Bo,” she paused. “Then again you might’ve changed since high school,”

Y/N's look of endearment towards him was heartbreaking, but his composure was firm. His eyes scanned her body carefully. She had some bruises on her arms and something feral in him wanted to shout and demand where they came from. It was very clearly a handprint. Overall, he was still attracted to her.

She tugged her sleeves down.

Like she had forgotten something significant, she looked at him with big doe eyes. Her arms wrapped around him suddenly. The wax Bo made his presence known, but only for a moment. He hugged her back like he was created to hold her against him.

She was his first everything.

Sitting in her bedroom, their relationship had blossomed but he didn’t want to corrupt her… He was madly in love with her but he couldn’t. He snuck out of the foster home and in through her window, wine coolers, and cigarettes in hand. He smoked and drank as he rolled the dice on his turn of Monopoly which he had zero interest in.

Although she sipped from a cooler herself, she appeared unsure. The bright red drink stained her tongue, and he craved it.

Fuck it.

He remembered leaning over the board, knocking paper money all over her floor, and grabbing her mouth with his. It was a mess of teeth and tongues, but she didn’t pull away from him. She was drawn into Bo as if she also craved him.

That night was their first... everything.

They were animals together if he remembers correctly.

No one ever compared to the passion they had for each other.

Bo chalked it up to being a teenager and having nostalgia for one of the only happy memories he ever had in his life.

He gently pushed her away from him. He couldn’t fall for her again. Could he? No, he couldn’t do that. Not to her, this life would tarnish her though he had a sinking feeling someone had already tarnished her. Bo could tell by how she held herself, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Is your car in the shop?" he asked.

Bo walked beside her. Though the town was empty he kept her on the inside of the sidewalk.

“Yeah… now, Bo I know you’ll laugh but not too hard,” she smiled at him.

“Oh yeah?”

He pulled a cigarette box from his pocket, tapping it against the surface of his palm.

"Why's that?” he lit a cigarette, offering one to her but she turned it down.

“It’s ol’ Betsy still,”

“You’re joking, that same old car we used to take to that park and--,” he smiled.

Y/N slapped his arm gently, clearly embarrassed by the memory.

“Shut up, yes, it is the same one,”

The keys rattled in his hands, unlocking his gas station. He opened the door for her and couldn’t help but watch her ass as she crossed his threshold into the demon’s nest. He raged on in his head about killing her.

He prowled around the car, watching her like a cat hunting his prey, then finally he lifted the hood of the old beater. Bo’s face contorted into a frown. She’s lucky she wasn’t killed in the death trap she called Betsy.

“Damn,” he hissed.

“Is it a problem?"

“Baby girl, you need to buy a lottery ticket,” Bo said.

The nickname that slipped from his lips was something he called her a lot. It felt right calling her that name.

“Why?”

“The son of a bitch might explode on you,” he responded. “When was the last time you had an oil change on this thing?”

“Honestly, I don’t drive it that much. I mean I don’t drive much anymore at all. The old man doesn’t like it,” she joked. “But I left a tad hastily,"

Bo bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to curse.

“Come on, lemme write out the bill and get some tools together,”

Bo had to change the subject before he jumped into his own truck on a mobile murder spree. His callused fingers began to write down exactly what needed to be done. It wasn't made-up bullshit either; he had noticed all the problems she would have with a car that was older than dirt.

“Here, sit and read it. I gotta get some shit,”

He placed a metal stool next to the glass display case.

“Okay, Bo,”

She sat and leaned against it. He pretended to grab things, rattled tools, and dropped them into a toolbox. Finally, he grabbed a heavy wrench and began to creep up behind her lifting his arm above her head in hope of giving her a clean blow.

“You know, Bo,”

He stopped.

“Seeing you today brought back so much and made me realize...- Now don’t laugh but,”

“I never got over you, Beauregard Sinclair. I think I might still be in love with you,” she finished.

Bo fell silent once again. It had been years since someone had made him this flustered. He dropped his arm down, his heart beating like the engine of an old motorbike. The tool in his hand clattered to the ground, causing her to turn in surprise.

He was so close to her that their bodies touched.

She leaned up and gently pecked a kiss on his slightly stubbled cheek. Bo tried to fight it but it happened all over again. His large hands grasped her face and he kissed her. A long but much more experienced kiss than their first. His tongue explored her mouth and his body screamed with excitement and arousal when she held onto him for dear life. The fire was still there. However, rather than the small candle he thought he had snuffed out, it was now a raging forest fire burning them both to the ground.

“I know how you feel," he said, pulling away.

“Hey, sorry. Could either of you show me how to get back onto the freeway?" A man stood at the entrance of the gas station now. He moved to act as a barrier between Y/n and the stranger. Bo grabbed his phone from his pocket. No new messages from Lester or Vincent for that matter.

A warning was sent to both of them regarding the matter.

Bo wasn’t about to kill her. No, in fact, no one was planning to kill her, but this new tourist would make a fine addition to Vincent’s collection.

“Sorry, had to warn my brother that my girl is coming to dinner,” His fake smile plastered to his face. “I’m sorry, where are you trying to go?"

The man pulled out a comically large map with red crosses and blue circles littering the page.

“Freeway,” he replied. “Though, I probably won’t leave until morning now. I can’t drive so well at night,”

Bo smiled again.

“I’ll be right back, baby. Come with me for a sec. You’re better at finding stuff than I am." He led her to the other room. He was planning to kill the man right then, but he wasn’t willing to show her this life yet.

The wrench would be too obvious now. She’d put two and two together.

“I’ll be right back, doll. I gotta make sure I know what I’m talking about,” he lied.

Bo hated lying to her. He’ll tell her someday but now is not the time. He climbed down the stairs to his torcher's chamber. He glanced at the images of the women he had tied in that room over the years. Part of him wondered what she’d look like in the chair but then he imagined her in his bed. He shook his head. Dark locks moved slightly from their jelled place and a slight curl began to come forward.

He grabbed a small knife and a map. Bo wrapped the map around the knife hiding it from any eyes. He walked back to find that Y/n was gone. Panic filled his chest but he was instantly relieved to see her chatting with the man. At that moment, his hand was on hers, and he resisted stabbing him in the head.

“You staying the night at my place?” Bo asked.

“I’d love that,” both Y/N and the man said.

Bo and Y/N give the man a strange look and glance at each other. The innocent shrug of the shoulders made Bo want to pull her into another kiss.

She was adorable, not that he’d ever admit that.

The man was in the bed of Bo’s truck. There was no way in hell, Y/N was allowed to be on the back of that truck. His arm was draped over the back of her shoulders. It was as if they hadn’t been apart for years. Hell, he wished he had gotten her when he turned 18 and run away with her years ago.

But she was here now. Willingly.

The truck stopped.

“Is this your childhood home?" she asked.

“The one,” he said with a slight bitterness.

Y/n decided not to push it further. He’d talk when he was ready… or drunk. It was either one or the other for him.

Bo got out of the truck and walked to the other side to help her out of the cabin. The man stepped off the bed and Bo could feel his eyes on his girl. Eyeing her the same way Bo did with his own prey.

He led them into his house, leaving them in the living area of the home. Bo planned to sleep on the couch, and he’d put Y/N in his bed. It was what was right by her.

It was odd caring for someone other than his brothers, but he was always the caregiver. After getting out of the foster care system he was the one to bring them back together and before that, he was the one that fed them, bathed them, taught them right from wrong, and protected them when they did do something wrong in the eyes of his parents. Though if Vincent could do wrong in his mother’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure. His thoughts clouded his mind when he heard Y/N's muffled shout.

The pillows and blankets fell to the ground in a fluffy mass. Bo raced down the steps. The tourist had his girl trapped on the couch. Bo pushed him off, hitting him in the face. The knife made its way from his pocket and rested in his fist; it pierced into the lung of the man.

He gasped.

The man collapsed to the floor and Bo kicked him. The punches and kicks flew, blood splattered and all Y/N could do was watch.

It wasn’t long before the man lay motionless on the wood floor of his living room.

Bo stood tall. A bit of pride boiled in his chest, and he remembered she was still there.

“Baby,” he called.

She was splattered with blood.

“Your hands,” she said.

Bo looked down at the cuts. She took them so gently, leading him past the body and into his own kitchen. She sat him down at the tiny kitchen table and Bo was enthralled as she rinsed a rag to clean his cuts. He could just taste domestic bliss.

She dabs his hands gently.

Bo grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms firmly around her.

“You can’t leave,” he commanded.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted.

She brushed a bit of hair off his face and he sighed in contentment.

Y/N leaned down and pressed a bruising kiss to his lips.

[jasonrae117]

Just Another Hollywood Scene

CHAPTER 2- Media Frenzied

Damian was furious, that insufferable woman at the pathetic excuse for a coffee shop made him look like a complete asshole when in reality he was simply trying to expedite the process because they were taking too long. Now here he was drinking the subpar coffee in the lobby, grinning at his win. That will be the last time I see her.

“Ahem, Damian?” The receptionist, Barbara Gordon, called.

He pulled himself out of his short lived reverie, “Yes Gordon?”

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49727071/chapters/125517982

“I really wish you’d stop using my last name, reminds me of waiting for my dad to be done at the police station.” 

“We are at our place of business, and we must conduct ourselves professionally.”

“You call me that no matter where I am!” 

“Hm, instinct I suppose since I don’t see you that frequently outside of work hours. Anyway, what room is the meeting in? I’m already behind schedule, I don’t want to be late.” He leaned against the counter slightly.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she typed something into the computer. “Looks like your father canceled the meeting and rescheduled it to…friday at one o’clock.”

“Four days from now? But the article is supposed to be released tomorrow!” He almost yelled. 

“Oh, there’s a note in the memo. The media team delayed the release until Friday as well, but at five.”

“They can’t be serious! What did my publicist have to say about this?” He took a step back and began pacing.

“Damian, I don’t know why or what happened, I just have the new times. Why don’t you ask your father or Dick?” She said gently while readjusting her glasses.

“No, I don’t need their excuses. Well then I’ll see you on Friday.” He huffed.

“Mm, not so fast there. You have a preliminary costume fitting on wednesday.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He stormed out of the office building.

How could they just cancel the meeting discussing the procedures of handling the media frenzy. They were supposed to announce his involvement with the movie and begin his media tour to garner buzz for the movie. Now that it’s delayed the Gotham Gazette won’t be happy that they didn’t have their front page news when expected and that might reflect poorly on him, like they weren’t confident it would sell well.

Here’s the problem Damian always had when it came to his own stardom. Many people assumed he got his starring roles because of his father’s connection to the industry or his adopted brother’s ties, and while he in no way claims that he does not benefit from nepotism, a lot of the roles he earned on his own. 

Damian started out like anyone else in this business, background roles or extras. Sure he had the best access to those roles, which he publicly thanked nepotism for, but he did his time in the background and it was other directors, lead actors and actresses, and the public that begged him to start aiming for starring roles. So, he did just that and he was a natural of course, you can’t live with one of the best actors in the world and not pick up some skills, but Damian brought something totally new to the game.

For starters, he was half Middle Eastern which he takes a lot of pride in and is happy to bring at least some representation to Hollywood. He also liked to think of himself as more in tune with his characters, that he delves deeper into who they were to better understand who they are. Not to discredit his father, but Damian simply believed he was in some ways, if not most, a better actor than anyone in his family. He wouldn’t dare openly admit that, but everyone around him seemed to suspect he felt that way.

Unfortunately Damian was somewhat of a diva. He had no intentions to be but when he sees something that can be better, he speaks up. If he thinks something is out of character or doesn’t make sense he brings his complaints to the writer and director. But the thing that most directors hate initially is that Damian would go off script and completely improvise very dramatic scenes. 

Why then would he keep landing these roles if he is such a nuisance to work with? It’s because he was almost always right about the changes and his improvised scenes were arguably his best work and has won him countless awards. He was, plain and simple, a phenomenal actor.

Even with all the praise he gets, Damian still has to answer to the trolls that ruin every interview or live Q&A. The ones that demand he acknowledges his privilege with nepotism and being half white, which he does, every single time. It’s like these people don’t believe the awards or the raving reviews of his movie, or even the general consensus online. They make him feel like he has to continually prove himself, make a bigger name, to show that he is more than his father’s name. That’s why Dick went into directing, to get out of Bruce’s shadow. 

Damian thinks that staying out of the public eye as much as possible will help his image and have him not come across as wanting to always be in the spotlight. But Bruce pointed out that all that does is make him seem like a recluse that only wishes to grace people with his presence when he has won something. Damian hates PR and having to do those talk shows or Buzzfeed Interviews but it's the only way he can change this image of himself according to his father. The only public thing Damian enjoys is his charity work with the zoos across the nation and the local animal shelters. Damian trusts animals more than people and he can tell they don’t think he is who he is purely because of his familial ties. 

This life was exhausting but rewarding all at the same time, he wouldn’t give it up for anything. Which is why he was incredibly irritated they had rescheduled his article in the Gazette, because now that meant more PR meetings and probably more interviews to make up for the delayed information. 

Damian had gone to his favorite vegan cafes a block down, he made the trip down here, might as well make it somewhat worth his time. As he was about to head out and back to his condo, he changed his path walking back toward the offices, promptly deciding to see if his father or brother were in so they could discuss the delay. When Damian got out of the elevator on the seventh floor a half dozen assistants and execs were milling about and chatting excitedly. When they saw him, some tried to scatter but still offered a polite smile.He gave a nod in their direction but continued his way towards Dick’s office. 

He couldn’t clearly make out what they were talking about, but everyone was in unusually high spirits. The beginning of a large budget movie was often hell for everyone, so something must have recently happened to garner this much excitement.

As he approached the Dick’s office, Jason Todd came strolling out with the ever present smirk he always had. Damian had known Jason for almost half his life, he played one of Bruce’s sons in a project for several years and then got his own spinoff from that. He was your average roguishly handsome actor with a ‘I don’t give a shit’ mentality, he did come from nothing unlike Damian and worked his way to the top. He was in some theatre production at a local underfunded middle school that Bruce donated money to and stopped by to see their fall play. Bruce was blown away by Jason’s performance at such a young age, but what’s more is that when Bruce exited the theatre to go back to his car, he caught the young Jason trying to steal the tires. Instead of involving the police, Bruce introduced himself and offered to pay for acting lessons for the kid and got him a few auditions which he landed. 

Since then, Jason has almost been a part of the family. Bruce and Jason didn’t always see eye to eye as Jason was brash and prone to scandal, but it was almost as if Bruce had officially adopted Jason, he was around the manor often enough, he might as well have been a legal son. 

Still Damian was often annoyed by the slightly older man’s behavior, always feeling like Jason was squandering the opportunities his father gave him by being drunk in public and saying outlandish things, as well as literally fighting off paparazzi. He also toted around a new woman every week and it felt like gross behavior from someone who was given everything. 

Damian resented Jason in some ways too, because the only thing that separated the two of them was that Bruce chose Jason to follow in his footsteps, but he was forced to give Damian those same opportunities. Except as the media saw Jason as an underdog story that made it big, Damian’s success was purely nepotism. Not to say Jason didn’t also deserve the roles he got, he was admittedly a good actor, but it wasn’t fair to be so similar yet treated so differently. 

“Hey little D.” Jason said, meeting him a few steps from Dick’s office.

“Todd, what did I say about nicknames?” Damian narrowed his eyes at the taller man.

“To be fair, I don’t remember half the things you actually say to me. I try to block you out but your incessant complaining really knows how to pry its way in my head occasionally. “ He shrugged and was about to continue walking but he stopped himself just to the side of Damian’s shoulder. “We’re all in a pretty good mood, Dick especially. Try not to sour it for fucking everyone.” He patted him on the shoulder, which Damian instinctively shoved off.

“I only complain when there is something reasonable to complain about, and how other people perceive my constructive criticism is not my problem.”

“Yeah because telling me to stop wearing my leather jacket is such a reasonable complaint that entirely affects your life.” He rolled his eyes.

“You wear it year round and half the time you don’t even ride your motorcycle because you’re being driven around. It's pointless and you think it makes you look cool, but in actuality you look like an imbecile. But I’m glad to see that maybe the tides are changing since it seems to be absent from your outfit today.” Damian smirked smugly, but was confused to see Jason shoot back the same look.

“You’re wrong about pretty much everything you said just now, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what your opinion is on my outfits or why I chose to wear what I do, but I will let you in on a little secret. I was wearing my jacket today, took it off while I sat in on a few auditions for your little superhero movie, and now it rest on the shoulders of one fucking hot new actress in town that, and here is the secret,” He leaned into Damian’s space whispering, “ will probably be your leading lady.”

“Great so I may have to deal with some bimbo that probably slept her way into the audition and-” It was Damian’s turn to roll his eyes but Jason’s unforeseen shove made him stumble and swallow the rest of his sentence. 

“Don’t fucking say things like that. She had a fantastic audition while also being fucking hot. Don’t be such a prick and just assume things about someone because I say she’s hot.”

“Only girls you think you have a chance with do you even bother bringing up and 90% of the time they’re bimbos so excuse me for jumping to conclusions. Besides, there’s still auditions for the roles over the next couple of days, we don’t know anything yet.” Damian took a step forward but looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice, “And don’t even think about laying hands on me again Todd, we’re not friends, and we are not family.”

“Fuck you little D, you used to be a touch nicer when you were younger, guess that stick never came out on its own. I can just see it now though, you being jealous when you see your co-star and knowing that you can’t have her because I already will.” 

Damian fully turned to him now. “First, I don’t date coworkers. Second, anyone interested in you isn’t smart enough to be interesting to me.”

“Mark my words Dami.” Jason called out making his way down the hall and to the elevators.

Damian was already frustrated on his way up, now he was just down right pissed off. Jason sure as hell knew how to push his buttons. He tried his best to shake the conversation and took a deep breath before heading into his actual brother’s office.

“Hey D! Everything alright out there? I heard you and Jay’s conversation get a little heated.” Dick was milling about his office, collecting stacks of files together.

Dick’s office was very cluttered but in particular groupings. He thrived in organized chaos, he was a researcher at heart and made sure to analyze every bit of data before making a decision. It’s why he was such a good director, he really understood the background of his movies and would make sure they were as accurate as possible. His mahogany desk could barely be seen beneath the mounds of different colored folders representing anything from future projects, schedules, resumes, and even lunch menus to his favorite restaurants. The floor to ceiling window across the back wall of his office gave him an impressive view over the city and let a lot of natural light in. The office was still overall bright and clean, with off-white walls and light tan wooden panels, the light reflected well around it. Knick knacks from his early days with his real family in the traveling circus were placed neatly on the many bookshelves around the office. He had a plush couch and armchair in the corner facing a large flat screen TV and a coffee table that matched the rest of the wooden furniture in the room. On the other side of the desk were two comfy green velvet chairs for guests to use. It was minimalistic, but full of life. Damian didn’t feel cooped up in here like he did in Bruce’s office that had a much darker color palette. 

“Just Todd being his usual irritating self.”

Dick set his current stack of papers he was carrying down and excitedly started searching for something else in a file cabinet. “He’s been in a better mood since the audition we saw today just before lunch, this Ra-” 

“Dick, I really don’t care to hear about it right now. From what it sounds like, she probably isn’t worth the headache she’ll give us if she’s already throwing herself at Jason.” Damian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a seat in front of the desk.

Dick straightened up, a perplexed expression resting on his face. “I wasn’t aware they knew each other, she just borrowed his jacket for the scene but he didn’t mention he knew her.”

“To be fair, I’m not sure how acquainted they currently are, but he made it clear he wanted to get more acquainted.” He scoffed.

“Well then I’m going to tell him to back off, I don’t want anything ruining the potential this girl has. I think she’s our girl. She is our sorceress!” He threw his arms dramatically into the air.

“Be reasonable, Dick. You still have more auditions for that role coming up. You were probably just hungry.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. I’m telling you, you’re going to love her. I can pull up her audition tape so you can see what I’m talking about.” Dick practically ran to his computer, typing in his password. He barely was able to hit enter when Damian snapped the laptop shut on his fingers. “Ow!”

“Not interested until you’ve seen the rest. I don’t like you making rash decisions, that’s Jason’s brand, not yours. Besides, I came here to talk about something actually important.”

“Idunno Dami, I have a feeling about this one. But I hear you and I’d hate to be rude to the people that have worked hard on their auditions and count them out just yet. So I'll finish them out and go from there. However, this is actually very important, arguably more important than what you’ve come here to discuss.This is our lead female hero, your right hand woman. She needs to be good enough to stand beside you.” 

“You’re opening auditions for this massive role to anyone that can speak. I don’t know why you didn’t just go with someone we’ve worked well with before.” He crossed his arms.

Dick leaned his forearms on the desk. “ Like who? You’ve berated me for anyone I’ve ever suggested. Besides, how are we gonna evolve as an industry if we keep using the same handful of actors, it gets boring. I want fresh talent, and the chance to give someone their big break!”

“How charitable. I haven’t hated everyone you’ve said. Brown was okay to work with.” Damian huffed.

“Stephanie is not the right fit for this role, the Sorceress is dark, mysterious, temperamental. Steph plays the girl next door, happy go lucky type. Plus she hates you.”

Damian shrugged “True.” He always had a hard time with his female co-stars, either they were hired because they were pretty but couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag or they wanted to start a relationship with him to increase buzz surrounding the movie. He tried that once with Emiko Queen and after the movie premiered, just as he was coming around to it being a real relationship, she breaks it off right before announcing her next movie. He felt used and she somehow spun the tale to make him out to be the bad guy, and with his record, it wasn’t hard to sell. He swore that he��d never do that again, or even date co-stars in general. 

He’d done a pretty good job of making it clear from the beginning, but some leading ladies still tried, thinking they could change his mind. They never did.

“Anyway, if you came here to appeal the press release date change, I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do about it.” Dick opened his laptop once more and typed something.

“You don’t understand how bad this is going to make me look to the Gazette, and if they mention it to anyone else, it’ll be even worse. If this is because you guys are afraid about what I-” Damian was leaning forward in his chair, his voice raising just a little.

“Damian, stop. Everything will be fine. We wanted to wait until your costume fitting so we can send some pictures with the announcement so people see this is happening and real and that we stand behind you fully. Bruce explained everything to the editor-in-chief and told them how much the pictures were going to enhance the story and they agreed. Plus with first look photos of the costumes, all the blogs are going to be jumping on the news and spreading it. By Saturday, everyone will know you’re heading my movie!”

“But won’t this put us behind schedule for the press tour?”

“Not at all, I didn’t schedule your first talk show until the following week as a precaution if we didn’t gather much wave of media presence. But I now worry we’re going to cut our impression short with the new stuff you'll be talking about." He was now reclined back in his seat, hands folded in his lap.

Damian wanted to argue, but it did all make sense. "And the other cast announcements?" 

"All will be released in due time. I'll probably save the Sorceress announcement until last though, really build up speculation and buzz."

"Not to mention drama." Damian muttered.

"Hey, drama isn't all that bad when it's speculation." Dick retorted, pointing at him. 

“This feels like the ‘no such thing as bad publicity’ excuse. And that always goes horribly wrong.” He crossed his arms, slouching a touch into the chair.

“That’s because it kinda is Dami boy. Except it’s truly not bad publicity, sure some people will get disheartened that it’s not their pick, but we’re working with entirely original material, no fanboys to worry about.” Dick seemed way too relaxed for a director releasing what is thought to be the biggest movie of the decade. 

“You still seem to be grossly overestimating the weight of the news about the Sorceress.” Damian stood from his chair and did his best to brush the wrinkles from his suit.

“And you seem to be a misogynist that doesn’t think his female co-star is as important as him!” Dick said firmly as he stood as well, palms on his desk with his body leaning towards the accused.

Damian sputtered his words, his eyes darting for anything to come to his mind right now. “I am not a misogynist! I just think that after my announcement, everyone else is gonna hold the same weight.” He settled his hands on his hips to help him look confident in his statement, but Dick could see right through it and Damian knew it.

“Admit that you’re scared some relatively unknown actress is gonna steal your limelight.”

“That’s not it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…” Damian watched as Dick slowly sat back down, a calm smile on his face as he rested his right ankle on the knee of his other leg and folded his fingers in his lap. “Ok, maybe I think that we are putting too much stock in the idea, but maybe I’m worried that my chance to change the public's opinion of me is going to be overshadowed, especially with how big you’re acting like it’s going to be!”

“Let it out, Dami. We can’t ease your mind if we don’t know what’s going on inside of it. Look, I know that the press has been up your ass since the Emiko incident. But anyone that’s worth anything knows the truth and will not hire her ever again. But if our sorceress is the next big thing, it may not hurt for her to like you…not in any sort of romantic way. Lord knows we won’t push that angle again, but literally just think you are a decent guy.” Damian scowled at his older brother implying the task for the new girl to be difficult. “Then, if she does reach mega popularity as we hope, then she’ll be willing to do interviews with you and about you and then everyone can see how…charming you really are.”

“I see you and your committee have put a lot of thought into this. It would be foolish to not give your theory at least a small glimmer of a chance.” Damian pulled away from the desk and headed toward the door. He turned ¾ of the way back to Dick, “But she has to be tolerable too, I won’t fake liking someone just because it’ll be good press, someone will notice eventually and then it’ll blow up in your face.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way Damian. Now I’ll see you Wednesday for a moment to check on your costume, but we’ll really touch base again on Friday. Have a great rest of your day Dami.”

Damian nodded in response, closing the door behind but watching Dick’s annoying cheery smile disappear behind the door. He really hoped that they cast this role well because it’ll either be hell or the best thing to happen to him in a while.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What is one change you need to make in your life this month? I need to get motivated to start trying to get out of bed each day for at least a few hours so I can build up strength and hopefully it’ll get less painful. I also need to be lifting weights. 

What was one good thing about today? Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, just another day.

What’s been tugging on your heart lately? Myself in regards to my health and where I’m at in life. I’ve also been sad because I have a feeling my brother will be moving next year. He hasn’t said anything, but I mean he’s going to be 23 and he’s been in a healthy, committed relationship for over a year now. His boyfriend lives about 45 minutes away and my brother goes to see him once during the week and then he drives up there on Fridays and stays for the weekend. I just sense that they’ll want to move in together soon. And of course that’s a very normal thing to do at his age and I know he won’t stay here forever, but it just makes me really sad.

Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? No. I really don’t like the person I’ve become over the past several years. I’m not happy with myself. I’m also very self-conscious. 

All the money you ever need or someone to spend the rest of your life with? Someone to spend the rest of my life with. 

What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? I hate how moody and snippy I can get. I also feel like such a drag. 

Would you have sex with the last person you texted? Uh no, she’s my mom. 

What was the last thing you received in the mail? Christmas gift packages I ordered. 

Who did you last creep on? I’m not a creeper. I am a weirdo, though. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.  ....

What country would you most like to visit in the future? Europe.

At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? I don’t have a job.

Who is the last person that gave you butterflies? Doctors in an anxious way. I haven’t experienced good butterflies in such a long time.

Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? I mean, it is. 

Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? No. 

Do you require a lot of private time? I do need my alone time, but I also like to spend time with my mom and brother. I’ve become kinda clingy when my health got really bad. 

Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? I got really sick in a public place and another time in front of friends. Like I was sitting there and vomit just started coming out. :X

Have you ever told a guy you were a lesbian to get him to leave you alone? No.

If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I have a ton of favorite television shows. I’ll go with my most recent, which is Wednesday Addams from Wednesday. 

[yeosanggf]

rant

[zafirosreverie]

i have an idea wednesday addams meeting reader who has a melanie martinez, maybe fran bow aesthetic, or this tiktok account's aesthetic https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSedsmvSe/ (because pastels), and reader's family also has that type of aesthetic, addams and reader's family meet? i don't know if you take asks or requests but i just had an idea and i wanted to share it with the class

this is what I call a magnificent contribution !! Thanks for sharing it with the class, you have an A +

Also, thank you so much for letting me write for another fandom!! I hope you like this little fic <3

Devil likes pastel color (Platonic Wednesday x Fem!Reader)

“Hallo!” you smiled as you approached the black haired girl next to you. 

In the month you have been there, a lot of classmates have approached you, wanting to be your friends and making you feel welcomed, because a new girl in the school was always a rare but awesome thing, and you were so nice and lovely, the kind of person everyone would want around. 

Everyone, except Wednesday Addams. The girl wasn’t rude to you, she just didn’t talk or even see in your direction, which you respected. You find her fascinating, but after the first attempt to befriend her, where she commented on your “utterly horrible and eye burning clothes”, you stopped trying. You laughed it off, of course, but never bothered her again.

Too bad the teacher didn’t care about Wednesday’s wishes at all and paired you with her for the next project. Well, you could always try to make this a pleasant experience for both of you. Which would be easier if the girl would even look at you.

“How are you?” you tried again

She remained quiet. You started to feel a little awkward, but your parents taught you to be patient with people.

“So...what do you think we should do for our project?” you asked and smiled again. 

“We can see how long it takes a wolf to eat a small human” she finally answered. 

You were making progress!! Good! And this was something you actually knew about, so it was amazing! Too bad you didn’t hear the sarcasm in her voice, nor caught the hint about you being the small human. You totally missed her threat.

“Well, it depends. Wolves usually eat 3.3 pounds of meat per day, 22 if they’re starving. So, I’m guessing between 6 and 43 days, depending how angry is it” you smiled. 

Wednesday frowned and finally looked at you. You had listened about how she could make anyone fear her with only looking at them, but to you, it was a victory. If you were honest, she was the most interesting person you’ve ever met. 

“How much do you weigh?” she asked and raised an eyebrow.

This time, you understood the meaning and couldn’t help but giggle. She was so cute. 

“Enough to feed a growth wolf, that’s for sure” you said “But I doubt Akela would allow any other wolf near me” 

The other girl blinked and her whole posture changed. She even turned so she was fully facing you this time. Second point to you!

“You have a wolf?” she asked

“Oh yes, he’s such a good boy, always protecting us from people who get too close. I think he still has a hand on the basement. Not sure whom it belonged to. But don’t worry, he’s sweet with the people we like” you finished with a huge smile. 

By the way Wednesday’s face changed from annoyed to interested, you knew you had her full attention now.

_________________

“Can I help you?”

You smiled when a lovely tall lady in a black dress greeted you. It had been a month since that project you and Wednesday did and you two became good friends since then. Everyone at school thought it was odd, because you two were total opposites, but for you it only made your friendship even better! Besides, your pastel dresses always looked better with Wednesday’s black ones, you made each other stand out.

Yet, this was the first time you came to her house. At first, she said she’d prefer to work at your place because that way her younger brother wouldn’t bother you (even if the idea of Akela attacking Pugsley was tempting for her), but then it was just that she enjoyed the way you and your family treated her, 

Don’t get it wrong, deep inside she loved her strange family, but being the older (and better) child meant her parents would usually expect too much from her, and you were a single child, which meant you and your parents would give her all your attention. Besides, she discovered your parents were amazing. 

They shared your same pastel aesthetic, but also your creepiness. You weren’t cruel, far from that, in fact, she’d often find your manners and sweet talk too cloying for her taste, but there were times when a darker side of you would come out, usually if you were in trouble or danger, and those, those were her favorite moments. When you’d get all psycho and murder. She found it kind of cute.

There was only so much her parents could teach her, but your parents were still a box of surprises and she loved learning new ways of using knives, chains, poison or raising spiders. But after a month of getting to know you all, she decided it was time for you to meet her family too. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Addams” your mother said, with a big smile “We apologize for any inconvenience, we’re just here to leave our little princess”

The woman frowned but before she could say anything, a man with a funny mustache and a cigarette approached her from behind.

“And who are these people with a horrendous sense of fashion, cara mia?” he asked.

Your parents laughed and this time your father presented you all in a better way.

“We’re the Y/L/Ns. Our little princess here was invited to your lovely house” your father said.

“Mother, father” a voice came behind the Addams “I invited her”

You smiled when Wednesday approached you all with a small smirk. She never smiled the way you or your parents did, but her smirk was still a nice touch. It fit her. 

“This is Y/N, and her parents, Y/F/N and Y/M/N” the girl said.

This time, the Addams seemed to understand and opened their eyes in realisation. 

“Oh, so this is the girl you kept telling us about, dear Wednesday” the woman said “Our apologies, we weren’t expecting you to have such...tastes in clothes” she said.

You and Wednesday looked at each other and smirked. You two knew what her parents would think about your family’s aesthetic, it was the same the black-haired girl thought at first, but you had the hope that, just like their daughter, the Addams could see past the pastel color and build a good relationship with them. 

You knew your parents would at least try.

___________________

“I think nuts could cover the amoniac” you casually said “Mom could help us bake some cookies”

Wednesday didn’t look up from her book, but you could see her rolling her eyes and smirking. 

You were right, your parents and the Addams quickly got along despite the initial suspicion from the goth family. And now it was common for you to spend days and nights at the Addams mansion or them visiting your place (although this was less common, since they didn’t like to go out too much). It was like having a second family! But despite getting to know them all now, Wednesday was still yours and your parents’ favorite.

That’s why you were a little mad about the current topic. 

It wasn’t rare for people to call Wednesday a freak or other names, but it never bothered her. She knew who she was and didn’t let anyone unimportant affect her. But you were another story. You hated people who judged others only because of their looks, it didn’t matter if they called you pretty or wanted to be your friends only because you seemed nice, if they dared to disrespect Wednesday, they were automatically on your black list. 

But even then, it was a thing to call other people nasty names (which was still wrong, but you could ignore it), and another too different was to try to punch her (thank god she was strong and stopped their hand before it could hit her face). 

You tried to fight them, but Wednesday just picked you up (again, she was really strong) and pulled you out of there. Needless to say, it surprised everyone at school. Nobody thought that sweet Y/N could be so scary or that creepy Wednesday would be the calmed one. 

If only they knew it was like that 60% of the time. 

“Ok, ok, what about a tea party at my house and I accidentally let Akela out?” you asked and smiled when the wolf under Wednesday’s feet looked at you, ready to follow orders.

“We would have to clean the blood from the carpets” she said “besides, that kind of junk food could give him indigestion” she finished, caresing Akela’s head. 

“Fiiiiiiine” you pouted “but I still think the cookie are a good idea”

The black-haired girl didn’t say anything but the smirk was all you needed. Both of you sat down in silence, enjoying the books on your hands, when something hit your window. It wasn’t a mystery who it could be, especially when other water balloons followed the first one. 

“Hey freak! Come show your face!” someone outside yelled.

You looked at Wednesday, but she only rolled her eyes and shrugged. Akela was alert and you could sense the change in the mood. He knew something was wrong, he could feel your anger. 

“Seems like they fell for the beauty and the beast explanation, uh?” she said and you frowned.

You had heard the rumors about her being some kind of witch who put a spell on you to control you, given that there was no other explanation as to why you would like to be friends with her. It was stupid and made you mad that they think you couldn’t make a choice for yourself or that they seemed to think about you as a fragil doll. Were they really stupid enough to believe it?

“Well, let’s show them who the beast really is” you smirked as you walked out, with Akela following you.

[mischiefandspirits]

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

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

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

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

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

[from-a-reckless-writer]

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia. 

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly. 

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m. 

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did. 

Once. 

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her. 

But this-

This wasn’t right. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling. 

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go. 

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief. 

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily. 

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back. 

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear. 

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face. 

Can’t forget the pleas. 

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other. 

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed. 

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck. 

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you.  You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here. 

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her. 

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next. 

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real. 

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants. 

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?” 

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is. 

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew. 

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own. 

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible. 

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?” 

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara. 

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?” 

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.” 

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but- 

That’s not who she wants to see. 

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless. 

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things. 

Ever since Lena ended things. 

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!” 

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together. 

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-” 

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much. 

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all. 

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room. 

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. 

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.” 

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

[foli-vora]

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

+

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

+

Tags: @anu-simps​

[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Fifteen people who found out about James, Sirius, and Remus and the one person who never did

To clarify: James, Sirius, and Remus are queerplatonic partners in this case, or QPP's. This means that they're essentially special friends, ones who indulge in physical and emotional connections that are typically thought of as beyond platonic.

ONE: Peter Pettigrew

By fourth year the Marauders are legends. Everyone knows them as the fun-loving band of brothers without any cares in the world. Only the four of them know the true nature of the Marauders - bloody, battered, and bruised.

One day Sirius and James are fighting, an explosive sort of argument where Peter hides behind his curtains while peeking out through a crack in them and Remus reads calmly on his bed. Then suddenly the shouting stops, and Peter’s jaw drops open while Remus looks up from his book.

There, in the middle of the room, are Sirius and James, Sirius’ hands on James’ face and his mouth on his lips. Sirius pulls away before James can respond, covering his mouth with his hands and tearing up while James blinks in shock and Peter stares.

Then, Remus starts laughing, and James drags Sirius into a crushing hug, pressing kisses all over his face before finally pecking him on the mouth and then letting go. Peter squeaks out a garbled question when Remus rolls his eyes and says, “What, no love for me?”

Immediately, Sirius and James tackle him onto the bed, the three of them collapsing into a mess of laughter and kisses while Peter stares and stares and stares.

TWO: Marlene McKinnon

In an act of drunken desperation to forget her own confusing sexuality (girls are super hot but the idea of being in love makes me wanna throw up, for reference), Marlene flirts with Sirius at a party. His eyes are dark and alluring and he’s addicted to dancing, so it’s not exactly difficult. But just as her hand snakes up his arm, Remus appears, wrapping himself around Sirius and kissing him happily, Sirius melting against him.

Marlene steps back in her shock, creating just enough room for James to stumble over tipsily and start making fun of Sirius’ ears; that is until Sirius leans down and kisses him too just to shut him up, pulling back with a laugh so loud it rings in Marlene’s ears as she runs for the comfort of Dorcas, who simply smiles and slips her hand through Marlene’s blonde curls and kisses her until she can’t feel anything anymore.

THREE: Minvera Mcgonogall

In fifth year, Mcgonogall is awoken by a bawling James Potter at her door, sobbing uncontrollably and blubbering about something she can’t really understand. Eventually he calms down enough that she manages to get that he’s upset because he just found out that Sirius and Remus are dating.

Mcgonogall is terribly confused - haven’t the three of them been dating for years?

“No,” James says. “We’re just friends. Friends who kiss and love each other more than anything but aren’t in love with each other. I know… I know that doesn’t really make sense. I’m just… I’m just scared that since they’re boyfriends, or whatever, they won’t… they won’t…”

Mcgonogall opens her mouth to respond when Sirius’ voice cuts through the chaos -

“Won’t what? Love you? Because if you think that my being in love with Moony means I’m going to stop snogging you at every available opportunity then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought, Jamie.”

James looks up with a grin even as the tears still stream down his face, taking in the sight of a grinning Sirius and Remus, whose hands are tightly clasped between them. Mcgonogall watches, blinking in shock, as James bounds over to them and laughs as Sirius dips him in a kiss and Remus rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you morons,” he says, dragging them away as Sirius tries and fails to kiss him silly, laughing.

FOUR: Severus Snape

Sixth year is when shit first hits the fan. The Prank is a tear in their carefully cultivated tapestry, one that sends all three of them exploding in different directions. Severus is on his way to the infirmary for some more dreamless potion from Madam Pomfrey (and to check on Remus after the traumatic mindfuck that was last night’s full moon) when he sees the shitshow begin.

Remus is lying in a hospital bed, confined by bandages and fatigue but looking no less terrifying as he bites insult after insult towards Sirius. (The only one of these Severus remembers is “I thought you loved me, asshole!”, and only because Sirius had fled the room in tears after it was spoken.) James tries to sit down at Remus’ bedside, but before he can Remus breaks down in tears.

James reaches out to hold him, but Remus shoves him away, screaming until James leaves, his head hanging low in defeat. Severus approaches carefully, holding out one of his bottles of dreamless sleep.

“Here,” he says softly. “So you can forget, for a little while.”

Remus looks up at him and smiles weakly.

“Thanks,” he rasps, and Severus leaves with a nod, deciding it’s better to quit while he’s ahead.

FIVE: Lily Evans

Despite all of the horror of the Prank, it is less disastrous than one might think. There is a war coming; Severus has sworn to Remus himself that he will never tell and has also started searching for the cure for lycanthropy while he’s at it (not that he’s found it; he never will); and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin love each other more than words can say and will no matter the consequences, everybody knows that.

And Lily, she misses Severus - no one else understands that, but she does. She loves him.

She’s studying with Remus one day, their backs against the wall and knees to their chests, and ends up asking him how Severus is doing, eventually winding them down a conversational path about lost love and finding hope anyway. Remus, however, collapses into tears talking about Sirius and how much he misses him and loves him, still.

Lily doesn’t know what to do; Remus Lupin does not cry, at least not in front of anyone. Before she can panic too badly about it though, James is there, on his knees in front of Remus and whispering quietly to him, taking his hands and kissing his knuckles in between murmurs of affection. Sirius stands behind him, hands clenching in and out of fists as he tries desperately not to touch, but that only lasts a few moments before Remus is laughing through his tears, making grabby hands for Sirius.

Sirius squats down hesitantly, gently wrapping his arms around Remus, who pulls him down by the neck and jaw and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him as James smiles tiredly, passerbys whoop and stare, and Lily looks at James and feels her heart flutter in her chest. He smiles at her, and she flushes, then stands and heads for the opposite corner, where Severus is leaning against the wall, his nose in a book.

No words are needed between them. She pulls him in by the tie, and there’s a single feeble whoop for them, too - Lily smiles at the sound of James’ voice, hope sparking in her chest as her eyelids flutter closed.

SIX: Regulus Black

Regulus, struggling under his parents’ stifling regime alone since Sirius left, can’t say he’s not shocked when Sirius drags him up to a Marauders sleepover in the Gryffindor dorms one night. Peter isn’t there - Remus says he’s staying with a Hufflepuff named Max he’s into - but Remus, Sirius, and James all gravitate towards one bed, Remus lying on his back with James’ head on his stomach, running his fingers lazily through James’ curls.

Sirius beams at the sight of them and jumps in beside them, and James leans up and pecks Sirius on the mouth, who smiles. Regulus’ heart twinges at the sight - his brother has so much more love than he does, and Regulus won’t deny that he’s always been just a little bit in love with James Potter - but then James smiles at him with those twinkling eyes and Regulus’ heart calms.

Sirius draws him close by the hand, pulling him into his side and kissing the top of his head. They laugh and wrestle and joke around until eventually Remus falls asleep in James’ arms, and James is not long to follow. Regulus lies awake long after, nestled into Sirius’ side, the silence comforting like a warm blanket. Until Sirius murmurs, “I love you, Reggie,” and drifts off, and Regulus is left staring at the ceiling, alone.

He knows, Sirius’ hand over his heart, that this is his brother’s way of saying goodbye.

SEVEN: Hope & Lyall Lupin

“Criminals” is not a word Lyall Lupin would use to describe Sirius Black and James Potter, but maybe it should be. Because they break into his house on Christmas Eve the boys’ seventh year, the moon already rising in the sky. Lyall tries to stop them, but Sirius Stupefies him with cold eyes and transforms into a hulking dog right then and there, trotting down the basement stairs as James follows, breaking Remus’ chains with his human hands and ushering him out the door before taking his stag form.

Lyall and Hope watch in shock from the kitchen as Remus turns and Sirius and James tame him easily, the wolf nuzzling them like old friends. By morning, they are still out in the yard, the sun rising, now fully human. At first Lyall worries for his son’s modesty, but Sirius has already wrapped his shirt around Remus’ waist, and Remus, barechested in the sun, is holding James’ head to his, muttering in Welsh as James tries desperately to breathe, apologizing over and over for a gash on Remus’ chest put there by his antlers. Remus smiles, and Sirius hums a Queen song under his breath, and Lyall can’t hear everything his son is saying but he catches just enough -

“Mae'n iawn, fy nghariad. Shhh, annwyl.” (It's alright, my love. Shhh, dearheart.)

EIGHT: Albus Dumbledore

The news that Regulus has died comes on a Wednesday. Dumbledore is the one to deliver it, with a heavy heart and a heavier theory in his head. He notices that James is there, in Sirius and Remus’ home, but does not question it, only offering the story of the Horcruxes to Sirius, who sits on the couch. As the words pour out, dry and frail, Sirius’ face pales to ghostly white. Remus emerges from the kitchen with tea just as the final phrase leaves Dumbledore’s lips -

“Your brother died a hero.”

The tea clatters to the floor as Sirius reaches for his wand on the table, pointing it towards his head and getting out “Avada -” before James and Remus are on him, James wrenching his wand away while Remus locks Sirius in his arms, gently coaxing him down onto the floor and rocking him back and forth as he breaks down. James returns from hiding the wand and wraps himself around the both of them, breaking down with Sirius and pressing tearful kisses to every inch of skin he can find. Remus looks up at Dumbledore with glassy eyes and says -

“Please take your leave, Professor.”

Dumbfounded, Dumbledore does.

NINE: Dorcas Meadowes

Dorcas has lived with Marlene since school - Dorcas was in love with her, and Marlene liked sex and liked Dorcas in a “we can be best-friend-partner-lovers forever, mkay?” way. But no one else can understand that - the fact that they’re physically intimate but not a couple, that they’re married by law and spirit but not in love, that’s not something anybody gets. So when Marlene dies, Dorcas locks herself in their home, for grief and madness alike.

One day, Sirius comes to visit her. She doesn’t know why - Lily is about to have a baby, Voldemort is specifically targeting the Potters, their husband Snape is a fucking spy, and Remus is undercover amongst the wolves. All this and there’s a traitor in their midst - Sirius has no business visiting a grieving woman when there’s a war on.

But war there is, and visit he does.

Dorcas makes him tea, and they converse quietly about Marlene for a time. It’s when Sirius’ apology comes that she snaps -

“You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to lose her. She’s - she was my everything. My other half, a part of me, my - my wife. Not just a friend but not a lover… well, not in anything but the physical sense anyway, but - she was my life.”

Sirius stands, throwing his hands out to the side.

“You think I don’t understand?” He says, laughing and running a hand through his hair. He blinks back tears, then thrusts his left hand her way. “I know exactly what you’re feeling. That grief, that fear, I - I feel that every day.”

Dorcas shakes her head, batting his hand away.

“Remus is the love of your life, not your - your, I don’t know, partner? You can’t -”

“James,” Sirius interrupts, desperately, and Dorcas shuts up. “Jamie. My Jamie. Well - Remus and I’s Jamie, really.”

He smiles - a broken, broken thing.

“I understand, see?” He says, twisting his wedding ring around so instead of a moon it shows a black set of antlers. “See? I know. I understand. I do.”

Dorcas stares, quietly, and then starts laughing. It’s a foreign, unwelcome sound, and Sirius reels back in shock. They stand there, opposing each other, until suddenly the laughs ebb out into sobs, and Sirius pulls her to his front and doesn’t let go.

TEN: Mary MacDonald

The day Harry is born, Severus isn’t even there. He’s deep into Voldemort’s forces by now, only holding contact with Dumbledore out of necessity, and James and Lily are both exhausted, missing their husband with a newfound intensity and knowing Voldemort wants to kill their newborn son. Sirius and Remus are there, Mary too, and as Lily sleeps with Harry on her chest and Mary holds her hand, Sirius and James fight.

Loudly.

(In the hallway, of course, but still.)

Remus is helpless in between them - Mary hears very little of what is actually said. Bits and pieces here and there -

“You can’t protect him by -”

And “We need you, dipshit!”

And “I swear to fucking Merlin, Jamie -”

But nothing really solid. She watches through the window as they scream, until suddenly Remus reaches out and pulls James into a kiss. Mary drops Lily’s hand in shock, and watches with a gaping mouth as Remus lets go of James to pull Sirius into him, kissing him passionately and without reserve. Finally, when he pulls away, he glares at the two men and seethes something just loud enough for her to hear -

“Listen up, you idiots. That child needs our protection. That means hiding. We know fuck all about the future but this is war. Our baby is not gonna die because the people who love him can’t let him go.”

Sirius and James both nod sagely, James leaning in to peck Remus on the mouth - “Sorry, Remy.” - before he wanders back inside the hospital room. Outside, Remus collapses into Sirius’ arms, the two of them holding each other and rocking back and forth. James looks up at Mary from the other side of Lily’s bed and smiles wryly.

“Shit, huh?” He mutters, and Mary, speechless, nods.

ELEVEN: Fleamont & Euphemia Potter

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter go into hiding when James and Lily do, knowing they could be tortured for their whereabouts despite not knowing them. Remus comes bursting through their fireplace on Halloween, covered in cuts and bruises and coughing with baby Harry cradled against his chest. Through hacking breaths and with glassy eyes, he tells them their son is dead with his wife and Sirius has been arrested for their murder, along with Peter’s and some Muggles’. He kisses their foreheads and tells them to take care of themselves, leaving with the last words he ever says to them -

“I loved your son. So did Sirius. We - I will do everything I can to protect Harry. I promise.”

He disappears through the fireplace before they can respond, leaving them to grieve.

TWELVE: Walburga & Orion Black

After leaving Harry with Dumbledore, who assures him the child will be given to the custody of his living father as soon as he’s emerged from his undercover work (a lie, Remus later learns), Remus makes his way to Regulus’ grave. There’s no body there, of course, but Remus never got to say goodbye to the boy he considered something of a son, and he figures now, when he’s lost everything, is as good a time as any.

It turns out he’s not alone - Walburga and Orion Black, not yet locked up in Azkaban for their crimes, are there already, and spit in his face for daring to grieve their son when he’s a werewolf who supposedly turned their other one queer and heady. Remus stares them down, and in a calm voice with his hands in his pockets tells them -

“I loved Regulus like a brother. As for Sirius… well, he married two blokes. Oh -” He smirks. “And he was damn good in bed, too.”

Walburga lets out a shrill scream, turning her wand on Remus, and he holds his head high as he disarms both her and her husband and promptly kills the two people who made his husband’s life a living hell for sixteen years. As he stands there, staring at their still-warm bodies and always-cold eyes, he can feel no remorse - only a deep ache, loss and regret plaguing him with age long before his time.

THIRTEEN: Molly & Arthur Weasley

Twelve years pass without so much as a breath from Sirius or Remus. James is six feet under and Harry is thirteen, and after the havoc that occurs at Hogwarts his third year, they settle at Grimmauld Place, together. Molly and Arthur are tasked with bringing them essentials and information, and take notice of the fact that the two rarely leave each other’s sides. They’re wearing their wedding bands, which Molly does not fail to notice are marked with antlers as well as moons and pawprints, and Remus has another ring around a chain on his neck with only a pawprint and a moon. They look tired and worn out, Sirius more than Remus, and one day Molly pulls him aside to ask him privately if they’re doing alright.

Remus gives her a wry smile, his eyes twinkling just the slightest bit as he answers, “Yes. Of course.” Molly asks him again, saying she’s worried, and Remus shrugs, looking through doorways to Sirius, at the table with Arthur.

“I’ve had twelve years to grieve. Getting Sirius - getting my husband back was the greatest happiness I could ever ask for. But Sirius, he… he was never allowed to truly mourn. He’s still…”

He gets this distant look in his eyes and startles when Molly touches his arm, offering a small smile.

“I’ve had time to grieve our partner, is all I’m saying,” he murmurs. “Sirius needs time before he can even begin to forgive himself for what happened to James.”

Molly keeps her shock inward, squeezing Remus’ arm once before ushering her husband out the door. Watching from outside as Grimmauld Place folds back into itself, she thinks she sees two silhouettes in the window, melting into one.

FOURTEEN: Nymphadora Tonks

Nymphadora Tonks falls in love with Remus Lupin almost the moment she meets him. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s kind and smart and brave - what else could you want? And she thinks he likes her too - even if her cousin is desperately in love with him, which she would have to be blind not to see. But she knows this the way she knows the rhythm of her heartbeat in her chest - Remus Lupin was born to be hers.

So imagine her surprise when his response to her confession is to shake his head and laugh.

“I’m a married man, Dora,” he drawls, standing and flashing his ring towards her around a glass of whiskey. “I thought you knew that. I am sorry to say I cannot return your feelings… beyond my marriage, age, and lycanthropy, you must have noticed that women are not… my area.”

Tonks flushes red, jerking back in shock. So her cousin…

“Is it Sirius?” She blurts, and Remus turns towards her again, his eyes twinkling. He nods.

“Yes,” he answers. “Though, I had a second husband… long ago, and a partner more than anything…”

With a distant look in his eyes, he leaves her heartbroken at the dining room table, but not before she sees him slip into a waiting Sirius’ arms, holding him close to his chest as they dance, their eyes closed and two rings bearing antlers hanging between them.

FIFTEEN: Hermione Granger

She starts to wonder, right around the beginning of her fifth year, why Harry seems to have no interest in hanging out with anyone besides her and Ron. Now, she and Ron, they’re in love with each other; Hermione’s neither daft nor blind. But Harry’s in love with them both too, she realizes, and his closest relationships outside of that are past platonic but far from romantic: she can’t call what he has with Luna or Draco “normal”. The summer before her sixth year, she travels to Grimmauld Place, needing some time alone to think before the war envelopes them all. But she finds, when she arrives, that she’s not alone - there, at the dining room table, is Remus, holding a glass of whiskey and wearing three identical rings on a chain around his neck.

“Professor Lupin?” She asks, and Remus smiles wryly. “What’re you doing here?”

Remus sighs, leaving his glass on the table as he stands and grabs his coat.

“Just a bit of reminiscing, my dear,” he says. “No matter. Off we go now, this place belongs to Harry and we have no right to…”

He trails off, his eyes glistening, and Hermione watches his Adam’s apple bob and averts her eyes to the rings, each holding a different two of three symbols: a pawprint, a moon, and a pair of antlers. One of them is the one Sirius used to wear around, always a little loose on his finger from all that malnourishment… Remus must have just grasped it before he fell through the Veil. At the thought, her breath catches in her throat.

“Sirius was your…” She says, and stops when Remus flinches. He gives her a kind smile and nods.

“Yes,” he says. “And James as well, though that was different. More of a… friend, partner - soulmate? -” Hermione coughs. “- than a lover. But, yes. Not that it matters now.”

Hermione’s heart stops in her chest.

“Of course it matters,” she fires back. “You loved him. You loved him, and he’s dead.”

Remus looks down at her, his smile gone, and shrugs.

“All things end, Hermione,” he murmurs. “Especially good things.”

He opens the door and has one foot outside when he turns back to her and says, “Miss Granger?” She looks up at him from her hands, shaking and devoid of rings, and nods.

“Yes?”

Remus smiles, his eyes sad.

“Tell your Harry we love him. All seven of the Marauders, even if some of us never really got to meet him. And tell him… tell him that even if he didn’t die for him or raise him, his father loves him.”

Hermione’s brow furrows, but she nods.

“Of course,” she promises, though she has no idea who the other three Marauders are and could not even begin to guess what Remus means by his comment on Harry’s father. “I will.”

Remus smiles one last time, tips his invisible hat to her, and disappears out the front door and into the night.

ONE: Harry Potter

Remus marries Tonks, but doesn’t love her. Teddy is an accident, and only his in name. Remus will only ever have one son, and his name is Harry Potter.

In the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin dies with three rings around his neck and a secret in his chest. He does not tell Harry. He doesn’t want to burden him.

Their love, along with them, is dead and gone anyway. But when he sees Sirius and James in the white light, for the split second between life and death -

He wonders.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh oki “fire and brimstone” for Jameson maybe?

CW: Some talk about fundamentalist Christianity from perspective of someone who left and had a bad exprience with it, memory loss, backstory hinting for Jameson, recovering whumpee, mentioned domestic and child abuse

“Every Sunday, rain or shine,” Jake is saying, the skillet in front of him sizzling so loudly with the frying crumbled-up sausage that he has to raise his voice to be heard. “All of us right there for Sunday School at 9, service at 10, on a good day we’d walk back out at noon to go eat.”

Jameson watches him, and thinks, I didn’t come down here to hear your fucking life story.

They’re the first two up, the sun rising in pinks and purples slowly giving way to blue. Jameson had stayed in bed for a while, watching the sky turn gray first, thinking of Allyn’s eyes. 

He’d padded down here to get something to eat, only to find Jake already in the kitchen, pulling out a cylinder of breakfast sausage wrapped in plastic, heating up a flat black cast-iron skillet. Jameson hadn’t asked, but Jake had said it was a gift from his mother.

Pretty sure you’re not allowed to move out where I come from without at least one. Jake’s voice is cheerful, sparking lemon bursts underlaid with something deeper, darker, that Jameson can’t name. Something smoother. 

He’s trying to be friends, Jameson thinks, and he doesn’t want to be friends, not with anyone, but... his mouth is watering at the scent of the sausage cooking and there are biscuits already in the oven, warm dough smell overlaying everything else. 

White Lily Flour, Jake said, patting the bag of it on the counter. I was raised right.

Jake’s lemon voice took on a hint of bitterness. Jameson wonders, sometimes, if he tastes changes in emotion, or if it’s just his brain malfunctioning, sparking off-key. He thinks he tastes the right things. Nobody’s ever asked him about it. He’s never told anyone. 

None of this - baking, cast-iron cooking, church - means a fucking thing to Jameson.

Except... it sort of does.

“Some days,” Jake says, pushing the sausage around with a wooden spoon, breaking up large clumps that are still pink in the center, “We didn’t get out until one. Just depended on what he was pissed off about that day. Then Monday my dad had men’s group, my mom had women’s group on Tuesdays, we had another service Wednesday night - short one, though. Then Youth Group on Fridays once I was old enough... I wasn’t in it for long, though. We left a few months after I was old enough to join.”

Jake stops, for a second, staring down at the sausage. He picks up a small measuring cup and shakes out some flour, stirring the sausage round as it picks it up. 

“Your family get sick of all that fucking sitting?” Jameson asks, just to fill the silence.

Jake swallows. “Nah. Just my mom and I. Got sick of all that fire and brimstone being aimed at us.”

Jameson’s eyebrows come together. Jake’s voice dips, caramelizes, the lemon is sticky-sweet and feels like fuzz sticking in his head. There’s something here he doesn’t get, and he definitely doesn’t give a fuck, only... 

He leans forward. “What’s that mean?”

Jake turns the heat down on the stove, and Jameson watches the gas flame flicker and become smaller. Then he pours milk in from a carton Jameson drank out of yesterday, not that he’s telling anyone, and watches as it heats.

The timer over the oven dings. Jake pulls on his oven mitt and pulls the tray of golden-brown biscuits out, setting them on a folded towel to cool on the counter while he finishes up the gravy. 

For a second, Jameson thinks Jake isn’t going to answer him.

“My Papa - dad’s dad - was head of the men’s group. He’d been a church deacon for decades, preacher’s right-hand man. Nana Stanton ran music, played the organ, organized the choir. My dad was everybody’s favorite son, you know? Preacher and his wife had six daughters. My dad was prob’ly supposed to marry one of them. He married Mom, instead. My mom and I... we caused trouble for him.”

This is weird, and yet Jameson can’t stop the sense that the hair on the back of his neck is standing up. Something is whispering to him, from deep in the recesses of his thoughts. He doesn’t care.

He has to know.

“Trouble how?”

Jake takes a breath, lets it out. Slow exhale. “My Dad’s a piece of shit, that’s all you need to know. Spent a whole fucking bunch of my childhood in the ER, for me or for Mom.”

Jameson feels himself rock forward, like a hand clapped him on the back too strongly, like the handler slapping the deep red welts just to listen to him moan, right on cue, in reply. 

Me, too. I did that, too.

No. False memories are a result of the Drip, of training. He knows that. He knows-

Wait, no, it wasn’t me. It was-

I had to-

Slid a piece of paper across the table with what she needed to escape, money for college and an apartment and a plane ticket as far away as she could get, happy birthday, you got this, never think about this bullshit family again, and the woman sitting at the desk had smiled and said, I think we can make this work for everyone involved, Mr.-

“... needed help,” Jake is saying, as he cooks down the gravy. It had boiled at some point, now he’s simmering, stirring as it thickens, adding salt and pepper. “But they told Mom she should strive to be fucking Godly. That it was better for her to fucking ‘stick it out’ because marriage is fucking sacred. Nobody told my dad not to be the goddamn devil to his wife and kid, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jameson whispers. Jake’s voice is dark now, the lemon is nearly buried by something thick and black with anger. It slides over Jameson’s mind, smooths out the thoughts he is trying desperately to hold onto.

Jake glances over at him. Whatever he reads in Jameson’s face, he sighs, softly. “Sorry, man. You didn’t ask about my bullshit. Sometimes it just... gets to me all over again. Usually whenever my dad manages to manipulate my grandparents or something into giving him my p.o. box address again.”

The headache arrives, swift and sudden, and Jameson closes his eyes against the flash of light, the thunderclap of pain that follows on its heels. 

Jake fixes him a plate of biscuits, gravy piled high, and it smells so so good and Jameson takes his first bite with the sense of a hard wooden bench biting into his spine and the pastor’s voice droning and she was holding his hand, the two of them, knowing this was the last time they’d be here, together.

She sat in church with the plane ticket he’d bought her in her pocket, hidden from them all. He’d held her hand with his heart in his throat, thinking about his brother.

Was it worth it?

What was it, anyway?

Jake sits down across from him, and Jameson looks up through the throb of pain to see those blue eyes focused on him, concerned. “You all right?”

He’s back to lemon, bright and tart, slightly browned from sugar and heat. Like a candied slice on a cake. But Jameson feels the steady rush of a river underneath, flowing under mountains, gradually wearing away the very earth that keeps them standing. 

“I’m fine,” Jameson says, and takes a bite.

What had he done, when he signed up for this?

Who had he done it for?

---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump  @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @wildfaewhump

[aliwritesfic]

Rainy Morning (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Second part to this which I posted last night. I really hope you all enjoy it, and I might add more to this story is inspiration strikes but for now I kind of like where I left it

Summary: It’s the morning after your first date with Frankie

Tags/Content warning: fluff, morning sex, breakfast

Word Count: 1.7k

You awoke to the sound of rain slamming heavily on the roof. The room around you was unfamiliar, even in the soft pre-dawn light, but after a few groggy moments you remembered. Last night. Frankie. Your body flushed with the memory of his touch, the barely-there ache between your legs a gentle reminder of him.

Rolling over, you saw he was still asleep, his lips parted slightly and his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. You smiled slightly and moved yourself closer, the warmth of his body and the sheets around you creating a perfect cocoon to listen to the rain in.

As if sensing you near, Frankie reached an arm out and draped it across your waist, drawing you closer. You allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, breathing in his scent of soap and sweat intermingled with something else . . . mint, maybe? Whatever it was, you liked it.

You and Frankie had spent a few extra hours talking last night, about everything and nothing. You told him about the people you met while travelling, laughing about the trouble you and your best friend Adri got up to when you were finally able to meet up after months of separation, pointing out a small scar you had on your ass from when you decided it was a fantastic idea to ride down a steep hill on a child size scooter. When Frankie asked how much alcohol was involved, you cringed and told him you’d stopped counting after the sixth shot of vodka. You avoided the topic of your ex and how emotionally scarred he had left you. Frankie told you a little about his army days, about the men he called his brothers, his face lighting up especially when he mentioned that the closest of them, Santiago, had convinced him to download the app you met on.

You made a mental note to thank Santiago for that if you ever met him.

A few hours passed, you slipped in and out of sleep, annoyed that when you finally had a day off to sleep past 6am, it was nearly impossible. Eventually, Frankie began to stir, the first signs of waking showing on his face. His thick lashes fluttered, and his breathing lost the quality that only deep slumber brought on. He felt you next to him, his fingers traced along your spine raising goosebumps along your arms.

“Good morning,” his voice was thick with sleep, which you found incredibly sexy.

“Hey sleepy head,” you whispered, kissing his jaw. He smiled and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on you. Your stomach fluttered, and you could feel your desire for him dampen between your legs. The rain started coming down harder, drowning out all other noise from outside.

“How’d you sleep?” Frankie moved a strand of hair away from your face as he spoke.

“Really good, this bed is ridiculously comfortable,” you said, moving your leg so it hooked over his hips, hoping he would get the message.

Frankie made a noise of agreement and pressed a kiss against your forehead, then another on your cheek, and a third on your lips. You felt his cock stir and twitch against your leg, sending a new wave of lust through your body.

Frankie deepened the kiss and rolled you both, so you were on top of him. You moved so you could feel the tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. You kissed him once more before slowly, teasingly lowering yourself onto him until his full length was inside you. Frankie moaned your name as you moved your hips, relishing at the feeling of him inside of you.

You set the pace, slowing, and quickening at your will, enjoying the feeling of him. Frankie held your hips, his deep brown eyes never leaving your own until he sat up and moved his face to your breasts. He caught a nipple between his teeth, biting down with gentle playfulness. You let out a quivering breath as his tongue worked at the tender nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. God, would he make you cum again? You were so close, and Frankie seemed to sense this, taking over so he set the pace moving in a quick rhythm beneath you.

You cried out as the orgasm moved through your body, leaving your mind blissfully blank of all thoughts except one: Frankie.

His own release followed quickly after yours, like he was holding off until he knew you were satisfied. His breathing became laboured, his eyes squeezed shut and his grip on you became tight as his hips buckled slightly. You slumped over him, taking deep steadying breaths.

“Ah shit,” Frankie muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” You asked, confused. You hadn’t said the word ‘yes’, but surely, he knew you were a very willing participant.

“I didn’t put a condom on,” he explained, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you almost laughed, relieved that that was what he was worried about. “I’m on birth control and I got tested last month. I appreciate the apology, though.”

Frankie nodded, looking a little more relaxed. “I’ve still made a mess though. Here, roll over and don’t move til I get back.” You did as he instructed as he sprung up from the bed and pulled on a pair of boxers and left to the bathroom.

Sex with Frankie that morning was different than the night before, more sensual, and gentler than the night before. Maybe it was the throws of sleep still on you both, or maybe it was the sound of the rain outside, or maybe it was the feeling of already knowing each other’s bodies better than you did the night before. Whatever the reason, you found yourself craving more of him.

Frankie returned with a damp cloth and set to work, cleaning your area with a care you didn’t realise was possible from a lover. When he was finished, he looked up at you from between your legs with a shy grin.

“You hungry?”

Your stomach gurgled in response, making Frankie laugh. “Have you got eggs?”

“How’d you like them?”

“Scrambled,” you said, knowing that it was nearly impossible to mess up scrambled eggs.

“Perfect,” Frankie stood up and handed you some clothes. “You don’t have to wear them, but I thought they might be a bit more comfortable than the dress.”

You thanked him and he left to cook for you, giving you privacy to dress. You took this as an opportunity to get a better look at his room, taking in everything from the photos on the dresser of Frankie in his army days with his brothers around him, to the half folded pile of clothes in the corner. You picked up the photo on the dresser and squinted at it, wishing for the millionth time you’d had the sense to bring your glasses with you when you’d failed miserably at putting your contacts in.

In the photo Frankie stood with four other men in what you presumed was the Afghan desert, all in their army fatigues. Frankie was younger here by a few years, his face unlined by time and stress, his hair cropped shorter. You tried to pick out his friends in the picture, the brothers Benny and Will were obvious, you guessed Tom was the slightly more serious looking one, and Santiago the one next to Frankie. You set the photo back in its spot and ventured out into the kitchen, Frankie smiling as he gestured for you to sit at the counter stool.

“I haven’t had to cook for anyone but myself in a while,” he admitted sheepishly, “so I hope this is up to standard.” He handed a plate of eggs and toast to you and started on his own. You took a bite and nodded at him.

“It’s really good,” you said taking another bite. You didn’t tell him that anyone had cooked for you had been about a year and a half before your ex, Jonas, left, not wanting to dampen the mood, but the fact that Frankie seemingly cared enough to make you breakfast after one night made you almost giddy.

You and Frankie ate in companionable silence, stealing glances at each other. You hadn’t imagined when you agreed to meet him for a date that it would go this well. Hell, you hadn’t imagined ever agreeing to a date again after the shit Jonas put you through, but something about Frankie seemed . . . trustworthy was the best way to put it. You were going to ask him on a date, agonising over FaceTime with Adri on how best to ask, when he had asked you. Adri, who believed in fate, told you it was meant to be.

You didn’t know if you believed in fate, or soulmates, or anything like that, but even you had to admit the coincidence had been freakish. After Frankie’s message came in, you instantly set to work clearing your schedule, sending a message to your Friday night study group that you’d suddenly come down with a stomach bug and wouldn’t be able to make it. Adri had stayed on a little while longer, giving you advice as you tried on what felt like a thousand different outfits, discarding each one in a slowly growing pile. You wondered if that’s what the pile of clothes in the corner of Frankie’s room was – a mess out discarded outfits.

“I wanna do this again,” you said looking at Frankie in the eyes. “I don’t know if you’re feeling it too, but I uh, I feel something with you.” It was the most direct you’d been with almost anyone, but you needed to say it, to at least put it to him so that if he wasn’t feeling that connection, then he could shoot you down quickly and painlessly.

“I was thinking the same, actually.” At his words, you felt tension you didn’t even know you had been holding roll out of your shoulders. “When are you free next?”

“The only time I’ve got free for the next week is when I take Lola for her walk,” you grimaced. School was kicking your ass with all the assignments and working in a bar didn’t exactly afford much free time.

“What time and where?”

“Usually around 4, along the dog beach.”

“I’ll see you there on Wednesday, then?”

You felt yourself grin, “it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” Frankie repeated, his dark eyes lighting up.

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 2000 approx

A/n: I will try to finish part 2 during the week maybe Wednesday or Thursday. I did change what happens in the movie but it will call make sense I promise. See you soon!

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.8

Chapter 9: Civil War Pt.1

Ch.10

Secretary Ross what a bitch. I mean you save the world you'd expect a thanks maybe a parade or something, but no. Instead they ask you to legally give up your rights, your anonymity basically all you value. "We can't seriously consider signing this." Steve spat out. "You're being Hyper nonverbal." Nat points tony out. "That's because he's already decided." Steve points out calmly. "I can't sign… I won't sign the accords." You mutter out quietly. "I'm not even an official part of the 'team'. I don't even have a hero name." Pietro chuckles giving you an approving nod. 

Nat brings you and Pietro back to reality. "You were still there." She points out matter of factly. "Either way that does not change that we have made some very public mistakes." She continues. "We need to be put in check." Tony states. "If we don't do it now they will do it to us later and they won't be asking nicely." He says. "I agree it's better to keep one hand on the wheel, than letting go completely." You're honestly not listening at this point anymore. You jump back in after Visions statistics. "My friends are dead because of you." You point out. 

"You blame Wanda for an accident. When I saw your effect on Sokovia way before you blew it up." You mention spitefully. "If you want to sign because you feel guilty go ahead. I'm not being forced into this..." Tony sighs hurt by your comments' brutal honesty. "I'm just trying to protect Wanda." He says looking at you. "Too little too late… where were you when she was in Lagos." This is when Wanda steps in. "Just calm down okay… Just- lets just hear him out." She says looking at you. "Either we have her here with her brother or they become government property." He continues. "You can't just not sign… think about everything you'll lose." Steve jumps in again. "If we sign, we lose our chance to choose. We work under our own authority now, but people have agendas and you know that better than anyone." Steve points out.

Tony and Steve go at it for a minute when he abruptly leaves. Soon you find out why… Peggy passed. You and Nat flew out to be with him for a moment. After which he told you he was not signing the accords. "Wish you the best Captain Rogers." Is what you said. You hesitated but pulled him into a hug. "If you ever need anything talk to me… I'll do my best to help you out." You tell him and he hugs you back. Nat convinced you to fly to Vienna with her and sign the accords there. So you did and regretted it not long after you arrived. It was a complete bore fest. You let Nat do her own thing and you just walked around like a lost puppy until something called your attention. You rush back to her immediately. "Nat, something's wrong, something is very wrong." You repeat then you look out the window confirming your theory. "EVERYBODY GET DOWN" you yell as you leap on Natasha. She's about to reprimand you for causing a scene when the whole building shakes.

It was a blur and everything hurts. You stand up and all you can hear is ringing and a faint voice. As you stand you hear your name faintly Natasha is calling you but there's something else. Your head begins to throb. The voice it's clear now. It's repeating words. "Zhelanie, rzhavyy, Semndtsat', Rassvet, Pech', Devgat', Dobroserdechnyy, Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu, Odin', Gruzovoy Vagon." You grab your head to try and steady yourself. But the voice gets louder and then you recognize it. "Don't believe what you see… dig deeper Y/n. It wasn't him." Then you're pulled out of your daze by Nat standing before you. "Y/n are you okay?" She asks worried. You only nod turning your head and noticing that somehow you made your way outside. "I umm- I need you to call tony and tell him it happened again." You say calmly she nods and takes off to make the call. As she did that you called Steve. "Yes, Steve I'm fine we're fine… but you need to listen to me."

He was scared and the news spread like wildfire. "It wasn't him… Steve it wasn't him." He's quiet. "How do you know?" You sigh. "I just do Steve okay. I believe in you alright. But you can't look for him. If you find him the rest will find him. Keep your distance a week two tops just listen to me please." You plead with him he eventually sighs. "I'm trusting you Y/n" you sigh in relief. You hang up when Nat begins to walk back to you. "Tony is sending a Plane." She mentions looking around them fixing her sight on you. "How did you know something was going to happen?" Her voice nearly a whisper. You shake your head. "Y/n you told me something was wrong very wrong at least 30 seconds before the bombs went off."

"I-i don't know Nat something felt wrong… off then I looked out the window." You say trying to piece together your thoughts. "Lets go… let me drop you off at the airport." She says helping you up. The drive was quiet and uncomfortable. She wasn't sure she believed you, she saw that you called someone. Her walls were up and your answers were not helping that. She helped you board the plane and said her goodbyes and walked out. The ride was quiet what you wanted. But those words kept circling your mind. You couldn't have heard them more than three times but they were burnt into your mind. Vision and then twins were waiting for you when you landed. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner will not get here in a couple of days." You nod taking your time getting off.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asks when you trip down the last step. You shake your head. "I'm just tired, plus it's not everyday that you live through an explosion." You chuckle. "I just need some rest." You finish. Your sleep was not as peaceful as you'd like. Your head kept going back to that state of limbo the same words repeating over and over again. In the morning you're feeling well enough and make your way down to the kitchen. You weren't surprised when you found the Maximoff twins already up and going. "Good morning" you say as you walk up to them noticing Vision floating in a corner. "Good morning do you feel better?" Wanda asks as she flips a pancake. You nod watching Pietro chop vegetables extremely fast. Wanda clears her throat catching your attention. "Your thoughts were very loud last night…" 

"Oh my Wanda I am so sorry if I kept you up." You begin apologizing but she cuts you short. "It's fine I only brought it up because I can hear them… they are there, but I can read them?" She says questioning whether or not you understood. You nod. "Did it happen again?" She asks, worry filling her eyes. "I-i don't know how to explain it. Yesterday I felt something was off. I heard a voice after the explosion." You mention trying to wrap your head around the situation. "It was repeating these words. I can't stop thinking about them." You finish off. She gives you a confused look. "Bruce said it's kinda like the green guy… It keeps me alive." 

"Is that why I can't read you anymore?" She blurts out. "I don't know probably." You shrug. "Nat, she doesn't believe me… I saw it in her eyes." You mention quietly. Pietro rushes over to you and puts his arm around you, messing with your hair. "Well we believe you, isn't that right?" He looks at Wanda and she nods. He has to throw a piece of fruit at Vision. "Yes, I think there is something to your condition." He mentions a smile growing on his face… Or what you think he thinks is a smile. It causes everyone to break out into laughter. After that you and the twins have a nice couple of days hanging out and living in some type of normalcy. You would watch the Dik Van Dyke show and Bewitched per Wanda's request and then one night something was off again. "Wanda… something's off. It's different." Is the last thing you manage to say before Vision rushes over to your side. This time the threat was internal… your heart. 

"Y/n to my understanding your heart is going into cardiac arrest. Stop fighting your mind, it will protect you." He mentions. You clutch your chest and let your mind loose. "Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have been informed and will be here soo…'' is all your hear before you black out. You're in and put at one point you think you see Bruce but you're not sure. Then you're back in that white tundra and she's there waiting for you with a warm smile on her face. "Why do we keep meeting like this?" You ask as you run towards her. "It's you…" Is all she says hugging you. "Yes, who else would it be." You say playfully. She chuckles but she shakes her head. "It's you we meet on your terms. You only let me in when your guard is down." She steps back. "Are your okay?" She asks cautiously. "I really hope so." You say honestly taking a seat on the floor. "That's not what I meant… I-i um I had to give you a push in Vienna." She sits next to you. "That was you! Of course that makes sense. What do they mean." She smiles. "You'll figure it out… I know you will." She says again and you lay your head on her lap. She runs her fingers through your hair humming. "How long can I stay here with you like this?" You ask with your eyes closed. "As long as your want monkey."

"Where is she, is she okay? What the hell happened?" Tony burst into the compound the anger masking how scared he was. "Dr. Cho is in there right now and she's stable. She's almost done. Dr. Banner is assisting" Vision answers Tony calms down slightly turning to the twins. "What the hell happened?" They both shrug and Pietro speaks up. "You should ask her." He says his head nodding towards Nat. Tony makes a double take when Steve and Sam walk out behind her. Natasha walks up to them "What happened?" Tony only signs "That seems to be the Billion Dollar question." Wanda jumps back in. "She said something was off… something happened in Vienna." Now Pietro get defensive and jumps in to back his sister. "She said you didn't believe her." Tony turns to Nat. "Did she tell you this?"

"What was I supposed to believe Tony… she knew a building was going to explode before it did." Tony is now pacing. "She told you something was wrong… MY DAUGHTER told you something was wrong, that something was wrong with her. And you didn't think to tell me!" Natasha is left speechless and so is everyone else. That's when Dr. Cho walks back into the waiting room. "The surgery was a success and we replaced the damaged heart. She should wake up in a couple of hours depending as their medications wear off." She says not noticing the tension. Tony sighs in relief and Dr. Cho walks off. Tony points at Natasha. "You will stay away from her agent Romanoff." With that he walks off. 

It had been more than a few hours. It had been days and you hadn't woken up. "What is happening to her?" Tony hadn't left your side. Everyone had stopped by everyday their hopes diminished. Bruce calls him over and makes him take a seat. "Tony we have to wake her up soon!" He nods. "Of course we do!" He says looking at Bruce shake his head. "Her medical directives legally bind us to remove all life sustaining measures after two weeks."

[pxrkjihxxn]

under my skin - part 3

summary: "you know," you say, aware of how close your faces suddenly were, feeling your heart speed up again. "i can't keep patching you up forever. you're gonna have to learn to use your words properly soon."

"yeah, i know," he says softly, getting even closer to you than you thought was possible. your lips were mere centimeters apart as he smiled at you, a soft stretch of the lips you've only seen directed towards the likes of doyoung or yedam, but never at you. "thankfully, until i do, i have you to nurse me back to health, right?"

you know he's teasing, he always is, but you can't help but wonder if his question holds another meaning. "yeah, i guess you do."

tags: park jihoon x reader, gang!au, nurse!reader, brother!junkyu

warnings: mentions of violence, recreational drug and alcohol use, swearing, unedited

parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

three

“so he was silent the entire time?”

if there’s one thing you appreciate about hamada asahi, it’s his no bullshit attitude. he’ll listen to what you have to say, take a moment to process it, and then, in no more words than necessary, tell you exactly what he thinks. and then not tell anyone unless directly asked about it. it’s refreshing - no matter how much you loved yedam, you couldn’t trust him not to rat you out to doyoung, who will definitely rat you out to hyunsuk who will tell both junkyu and jihoon and then proceed to tease you for what you and asahi are currently discussing until the day you die.

so, asahi it is. nobody else can know. 

“completely silent, i didn’t think he could go five minutes without talking,” you exclaimed, taking a bite of the food in front of you. asahi and you had a tradition to meet on wednesdays during your lunch break, which was conveniently right after his painting class at the local community center. you were currently in your student cafeteria, both of you eating from your overflowing food tray, as asahi wasn’t a student at your university.

the cafeteria workers knew about the two of you, though - the smartest thing you’ve learned throughout years of having to take care of yourself is to get as friendly with the school staff. you knew each of the cafeteria ladies by name, what their kids did and which drama they were watching at the moment. it was that knowledge that always got you extra food you could sneak out for asahi. the fact that all the cafeteria ladies found the kid incredibly handsome always helped.

it was a nice tradition, one the both of you needed - with asahi being very quiet by nature, and you being overworked to the point of exhaustion on a daily basis, you enjoyed each other’s company very much. as much as the both of you loved your friends, this agreement of yours was mutually beneficial because you got to talk about things that are bothering you without your brother and his best friend’s yelling making it hard to listen to yourself think.

speaking of your brother’s best friend…

“he didn’t even look at me when we were driving to my place, nothing,” you explain further, shoving another spoonful of kimchi stew into your mouth. “and then, he waited in the car while i took a shower, was silent the entire way to the hospital and only told me to text junkyu when i’m inside. it was so fucking weird.”

“he can be nice when he wants to,” asahi shrugs, reaching forward to take the spoon out of your hand. he wipes it on the napkin next to the tray, dipping the cleaned spoon back into the stew and spreading it over his side of the rice.

“not to me, though! that’s what’s weird!” you exclaim, wincing when you realize how loud you were, turning around to apologize to the people around you. you bow a couple times before turning back to asahi, the two of you giggling to yourself. “but no, seriously, it was weird. the man has never been nice to me in his life and suddenly he’s driving me to work and respecting my personal space. what the fuck is that about?”

“god, your standards are low,” asahi jokes, chuckling to himself when you send a glare his way. “maybe he's finally decided not to be a dick to you anymore.” 

“that would require him not being a dick at all, and that’s easier said than done,” you retort, picking the chopsticks off the table to wrap a piece of kimchi around bulgogi meat and place it in your mouth, a satisfying smile spreading across your lips as you chew. 

asahi smiles as you place a piece of meat on his side of the rice bowl, spooning it up and eating it. “i don’t know,” he says as he chews his food. “he’s always had a soft spot for you, though, maybe he’s finally learned how to express it properly.”

you lean back in your chair you send him a deadpan look. “you can’t be serious, sahi.”

“it’s true,” asahi says calmly as he eats. “you really haven’t noticed?”

“what is there to notice?” you ask.

“well,” he starts, taking a spoonful of rice and dipping it in the stew. “all i’m gonna say there’s a reason any guy that has ever given you trouble hasn’t given you trouble more than once.”

you just sit there, arms crossed across your chest. “that makes zero fucking sense, asahi. why the fuck would he do that?”

“ask him,” he only replies, finishing off his food and wiping down the spoon to place it on your side of the tray. “wanna buy cake and watch anime at yours?” 

you ponder the proposal for a couple second before you pile all of the leftover meat on the spoon and shove it in your mouth. “yeah, sure, let’s go,” you say through a mouthful of food as you gather your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder, asahi’s words still lingering in your mind.

**

“HONEY WE’RE HOME!” you yell as you enter your apartment, asahi following closely behind you. the two of you knock your shoes off and make your way to the living room. “junkyu? asahi and i bought cake and wanted to know if - oh, hi,” you stop in your tracks as you walk in and take in the sight in front of you - your brother, sleeping like a baby, curled around a stiff-looking park jihoon.

“help me,” jihoon pleads through a whisper. “he got a bit too baked and started clinging to me like a koala. i haven’t moved in at least half an hour and i can’t feel my arm,” he says quietly, pleading eyes begging for you to move junkyu off of him. when you stay put, arms crossed across your chest and an amused smile on your face, he whines quietly and you don���t wanna admit it, but he looks kinda cute. “come on, kim, help meeeeee.”

“fine, but i need to take pictures first. asahi, get the cake ready, i got this,” you say through a quiet chuckle, giving the box to an amused asahi, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you approach the two cuddling on the couch. you crouch down and get your phone as close to your brother’s face as humanly possible, snapping at least fifty pictures from ten different angles.

“okay, you’ve had your fun, now help me,” jihoon mutters through gritted teeth as you take a picture of his annoyed face, junkyu’s puffed cheeks in the bottom corner of the frame. you try to contain your laughter as you move closer to your brother and start massaging his scalp, knowing the action was going to start waking him up slowly, but not completely.

“hey, honey,” you murmur softly once junkyu starts squirming, knowing you have about ten seconds to communicate what you need him for before he either goes back to sleep or fully wakes up. “hi, let’s get you to your bed, okay?” you say as you run your fingers through his fringe. junkyu nods, eyes still closed as he unwraps himself from jihoon and moves to stand up. you grab him by his forearms and help him to his feet, stumbling as he drapes himself over you, dropping all of his weight on you. jihoon stands up immediately when he notices you stumble and grabs onto junkyu’s waist, moving some of the weight off you.

you flash him an awkward smile as you wrap junkyu’s arm around your shoulders, slowly starting to walk towards his room. the two of you waddle to his bedroom, jihoon trailing behind you with his hand on junkyu’s back. “hey, i got him, can you open the door?” you whisper to jihoon when you reach the door. he makes eye contact with you and you nod, stomach churning at the way he softly smiles at you before he lets junkyu go and moves to open the door.

jihoon walks in first, moving the blanket off junkyu’s bed. you carefully walk your brother to his bed, putting your hands on his shoulders. “i’m gonna need you to lie down for me, okay, baby?” you coo as you push junkyu to sit down on the bed, helping him lie down. he immediately curls up around his pillow when he does, whining when he realizes he doesn’t have a blanket.

“hey, hey, here it is, it’s okay,” you quickly shush him, covering him with the blanket and tucking him in. you chuckle at how childish he looks, and you can’t help but remember all the times he used to be the one to put you to bed when the two of you were younger - it feels nice, being able to do this for him, even though it’s because he smoked a bit too much weed. 

“thank you.” you hear junkyu murmur as he snuggles under his blanket. you smile again, running his hands through his fringe so it doesn’t get into his eyes.

“of course, kyu,” you whisper, moving the hair up to peck his forehead. “you need anything?” you ask softly as he settles into a comfortable position. he shakes his head no, face scrunched up as he smushes it into his pillow, falling asleep in the blink of an eye.

you sit and watch him for a bit, running your fingers through his hair as his breathing slowly levels out, soft snores muffled by the blanket. for the first time since coming home, jihoon’s words run through your mind again - what was junkyu doing getting extremely high so early in the afternoon? he has never been the type to smoke during the day unless he knew he didn’t have anything to do, and from what you remembered, hyunsuk was talking about needing him that evening the last time you talked over the phone.

“hyunsuk hyung cancelled the evening meeting, it’s okay,” you hear jihoon say from behind you and you turn around to find him leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, looking at you with that soft look again. you hate that it doesn't make you want to vomit the moment you see it.

“how did you-”

“you just seem worried. don’t be, i wouldn’t let him if i knew he needed to be fully capable,” he explains, not moving from his spot at the door frame. you brush your fingers through junkyu's hair again lightly as you look up at jihoon, careful not to wake your brother up again. 

“it’s just… i know there’s things he wants to do with his life outside what you idiots do,” you start off quietly. you don’t really know why you’re telling jihoon this, opening up to him with things you haven’t really told anyone out of the blue. jihoon moves to sit down on the floor next to you and you look away from him immediately, focusing on junkyu’s sleeping face. 

“he has such potential and i just hate to see him wasting his twenties away for me… i’m fine now. the hospital pays for my tuition and i’ll have enough time next semester to actually get a job but i just can’t get to him sometimes. i know he has this protective older brother complex which is ridiculous because he’s only a couple minutes older, but i just want him to start doing things for himself for once, you know? like, actual things. i hear him sing in the shower, jihoon, and he’s good. i know he has a notebook full of song lyrics hidden somewhere in his room that he doesn’t want to show me because he doesn’t want me to feel like he’s not pursuing it for me, but i can’t help it when i know he has dreams and aspirations and i just want him to put himself first, you know?” you explain, trying your hardest to be as silent as possible as you thread your fingers through your brother’s hair. you feel warm when jihoon enters your personal space, subtly moving closer to you. you sigh, drawing your knees close and resting your hands on them, dropping your chin on your palms. “i don’t even know why i’m telling you all this.”

“you want me to talk to him?” jihoon asks, letting out an amused chuckle when you turn to face him, confusion on your face. “he’s my best friend, y/n. if you’re worried about him, i should be worried about him. if you want me to talk to him about music or whatever he wants to do, i’ll do it.”

you maintain eye contact with him, looking for any signs of him teasing you, but all you can see in his eyes is sincerity. “you’d do that?”

he smiles, and it’s that confusing smile again, the one that makes you warm all over and you have no idea what it actually means. “don’t get your hopes up, kim, i’m only doing this with my best friend’s intentions in mind,” he teases, getting a bit closer to you with his face to smile cheekily at you. 

you scrunch your nose at him, scoffing as you turn away from him. “whatever, park. that’s the last time i open up to you about anything.”

jihoon chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. “oh, come on, y/n,” he whines quietly, smiling as he hooks his chin onto his shoulder, getting even closer to you. “you know i’m just fucking with you. if it helps, i don’t think you should feel bad about junkyu “giving his dreams up” for you. you’ve always been the more level-headed out of the two of you, i think we all expected you to figure your shit out first and junkyu to help you along as he figures his out. he’s had a couple years to fuck around, we just gotta help him to start doing what he actually wants to do. and we’ll be there for him until he does,” he explains softly, nudging you again so you’d look at him.

you turn your heads towards him again. “we?”

jihoon smirks, nodding. “yeah, we. as i said, he’s my boy. i’d do anything to help him out. and if helping him out also means helping you out, then so be it.”

for the first time since he sat down, you suddenly become aware of how close you two are. shoulders touching, faces mere centimeters from each other’s. you look down instinctively, breath hitching as he pulls his now-healed bottom lip through his teeth and when you look up, it’s obvious he’s staring at your mouth. breathless, you start to panic when jihoon slowly starts leaning in, your eyes closing on instinct. you sense him hesitate as he gets really close, lips almost brushing against yours, as if he’s waiting for you to make the final choice. and you want it, you really do, so much it actually scares the fuck out of you because you never thought you would ever voluntarily put yourself in this position, but not here. not how. not like this. not while you have no fucking clue what all of it actually means. 

panic swirls in your chest and you pull away slowly, careful not to make too much noise as you clear your throat, opening your eyes. “i, uhm,” you start off, not wanting to be too loud as you move away. “asahi’s probably worried if junkyu’s okay. we should probably head back.”

jihoon presses his lips together, chuckling as he leans back on his hand. “yeah, asahi. maybe we should.”

you move to stand up, brushing off the nonexistent dust off your pants, trying to make this as painless as possible. “we’re probably gonna watch anime and have cake, you wanna join us?”

he locks eyes with you, holding his gaze on you for a couple excruciating seconds before he moves to stand up too, shaking his head. “i gotta get to hyunsuk hyung’s. you and asahi have fun.”

the have fun leaves a weird feeling in your chest and you don’t know what to do as he makes his way to the door. “jihoon,” you call out quietly and he stops at the door, turning around and leaning back against it. “thank you. really.”

he smiles, an empty type of smile you know isn’t really genuine, but you don’t want to push it, already knowing you fucked up. “anything for junkyu, right?” he says through a hollow chuckle, as if he’s waiting for you to tell him no, this isn't just about junkyu.

but you don’t, not sure what exactly to say other than, “yeah. anything for junkyu.” so you do, not able to look him in the eye as his lips drop slightly and he nods his head to himself, bidding you goodbye and walking out of the room. you hear him greet asahi in the living room, the two making awkward small talk before he leaves.

you turn to look at junkyu again, the sight of your brother sleeping peacefully making your chest hurt as you lean down to kiss him on the forehead again before tucking him in a bit more and leaving the room.

fuck.

***

a/n: i’m not sure if i’m rushing it but i hope you like this chapter! i’m still busy this week but i finish my last exam on monday and then i have a week off before classes start, which means updates won’t take as long! i have a lot of things planned for this fic and i hope you’re ready to embark on this journey with me. i apologize for the mistakes, i’ll beta it when i have the time! once again thank you for reading and all feedback is much appreciated! <3

taglist: @jjikyuu @m1ieu @lolibaaae @skittles2429 @remedyonrose  @najxemins if you want to be added just let me know!

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[captain-danwilds]

One Step Forward

Hi @avengerpercy! I realize I didn’t take Brazil’s timezone into account when posting this so I’m sorry this is technically late, but here’s your @aftgexchange gift.  I hope this is good enough for you Cristal.  This is my first time playing in the AFTG sandbox, so I wanted to live up to your expectations.  I ended up using your prompt “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems”  for a little outsider POV Andreil fluff with a large helping of twinyards.   

A few quick notes. Betsy and the joint sessions set the backdrop for this fic even though I am not a therapist and also not trying to make some statement about therapy in general (Personally I’m a big fan, but also recognize that Aaron really doesn’t seem to be in we’re in his POV.) I’m not trying to demonize Aaron or Andrew here.  Aaron just fundamentally misunderstands Andrew.  Also Raven King/Drake Incident references.  

Ever since Aaron had found out Andrew existed, he’d felt unsteady.   It wasn't just the sudden knowledge of how different his life could have been if Tilda hadn't decided to come back to get him or even if she'd just taken the other baby.   It was the fact his brother was a mass of contradictions piled on top of each other and every aspect of their relationship was built on the idea of one step forward and two steps back.

Aaron wasn't an idiot.  When the officer at the stupid game had mentioned Andrew, Aaron didn't expect his long-lost brother to immediately love him.  This wasn't a television show.   He knew by now that blood only went so far, that it hadn't stopped his mother from raising her hand to him or Uncle Luthor from sending Nicky away only for his cousin to come back a shell of himself.  But he couldn't deny he wanted it to work desperately, for there to be another little boy out there whose life might be made better by having a brother in it.  

His first step forward a letter that had to be rewritten at least twice because everything sounded wrong.  His bedroom trash can overflowed with pieces of notebook paper crumpled in frustration or with ink smeared from tears he'd never admit to anyone he'd actually shed.  Aaron must have spent hours writing the letter, typing it up in stolen time at the school library and sneaking to the post office while Mom had been out of it.  

Hours completely wasted when the only reply was two words:  "Fuck Off."

That should have been the sign to leave things well enough alone.  

But instead, he'd taken the return address and written a second letter to "the guardians of Andrew Doe."  

And instead of an answer from his brother, Aaron had gotten a voicemail saying Andrew had gone to Juvie.  

Even the slightest hint of progress was met with resistance.    

Gaining a brother meant losing his mom and never being in control of his decisions anymore.  

Andrew lived by his own rules, an unspoken tally system of betrayals where Aaron would never be the one who measured up.  Andrew wouldn't say it, because Andrew didn't say anything now that he was off the drugs.  Aaron knew his brother only cared about him in context of proving that he'd never broken their deal.  Until he called the whole thing off for Josten.  

Josten, the idiot that would say things like "Andrew doesn't lie"  as if he actually believed him.  As if there truly was some magical code his brother followed that made sense.    

"If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session.

Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

"I understand that therapy isn't for everyone,"  She'd said smiling gently during their first mandatory meeting freshman year.  "More than that, therapy with me might not be your answer,  so don't let today stop you from seeking help in the future if that's what you decide you want.  I can direct you to one of my colleagues who you might feel more comfortable with."  

They'd been meeting for almost a year now and Aaron still wasn't comfortable with her, no matter how many cups of hot chocolate she offered or how many smiles she gave.   They'd come a long way from the complete silence and blank expression of his first individual session or even the harsh words the first time he'd shown up to Andrew's session, but it wasn't comfortable by any means.  

The point was he wasn't about to pour his heart out to her even if Andrew wasn't in the room.  With Andrew there, Aaron had no good way to answer the question without giving too much of himself away again, of being hurt when everything went to hell. Still, Aaron couldn't help but let the multitude of answers flow over him.  

Because Josten waltzes in, every ounce of him screaming lie and danger, and this team bends over backwards for him. Because Aaron's seen enough to know Josten is dangerous.  Because he will kill him if Josten doesn't keep his big mouth from bring the mafia down on them again before Aaron graduates and he can't handle another murder trial.  Because Josten makes it so easy, throwing as many insults back as he gives.   Those are the easy answers, because Aaron's life doesn't revolve around Andrew. He can hate Josten because Josten is a piece of shit who makes every aspect of his life harder.  

But that's also not the whole truth.  Because he saw the way Andrew looked at him in Baltimore, the tender movements in his hands completely at odds with the angry spark in his eyes.  Because Andrew hates people touching him and yet he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around the back of Josten's neck.  Because there's something aggravating in the way that Andrew can look at Josten and see something precious when he never looks at Aaron like that.  

Aaron doesn't want to think his life revolves around Andrew, but his hatred of Josten certainly does.  It’s partially jealousy.  Why does this nobody get easy answers from Andrew?  What makes him so special?  

But the larger issue is that Aaron has seen Andrew broken.  As much as Aaron wants to wish Drake away, he can’t.  He’ll never be able to get Andrew’s face out of his head or the manic laugh left by the drugs. There are nights where he wakes up feeling like he still has the blood on his hands, that he’ll never be free of the feeling of Andrew knotting his fingers through his hair in worry when Andrew’s the one covered in bruises.  Seeing his brother like that once was enough to break him.  He doesn’t understand how Andrew can let Josten so close when Josten is a walking danger magnet.  He doesn’t know what he would do when Josten inevitably hurts Andrew, because that’s the type of danger Andrew can’t just stab with a knife.    

Betsy gave a small cough and Aaron knew he'd been quiet too long.  He avoided Betsy's gaze to look at the clock.  They were already a few minutes over their time.   He wouldn’t have answered at all, just turned back to glare at Betsy until she dismisses them both for the day except he saw Andrew.  

Andrew was still angled away from him on the opposite end of the couch.  His mouth was still turned in a slight frown, but Andrew’s gaze had sharpened.  Even months ago, Aaron might have missed it.  It was a sign of amusement, slight exasperation maybe, but also one of want.  Aaron had never seen that expression for any reason other than Josten, and now it’s directed at him.

“Josten isn’t safe.”  

Andrew gave a huff that might even be considered laughter.

“I’m serious. You’re giving him the power to hurt you.  Just because you don’t care about your own wellbeing, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let him get away with it.”  

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”  Andrew waved his hand dismissively.  “Which is good because you’re shit at picking the right battles.”  

Aaron groaned.  “And what do you mean by that?”  

“Neil won’t hurt me.”  He said it like it should be obvious, like he can’t believe Aaron missed something so fundamental.  

“But how can you know that?”  

“How do you know Kaitlyn won’t hurt you?”  The words were thrown like a weapon to end this conversation.  

But Aaron isn’t about to rise to the bait.  Andrew seemed to think that every girl was just going to be another Tilda, that Aaron would let them hurt him for the scraps of affection.  He knew Andrew didn’t decide Kaitlyn was safe out of the goodness of his heart, so his answer made no sense.  

“Why shouldn’t I be worried about Neil hurting you?”  Aaron repeated himself more directly, even calling the idiot by his first name as a sign of good will.  

Andrew looked down at his hands, his right-hand tracing seemingly random places around each of the knuckles on his left.  The gesture seemed both familiar and wrong.   Finally Andrew took a deep breath and looked directly at Aaron.  

“He listens when I say no.”

The words are simple, but Aaron can hear the depth of meaning there.  He gave a slight nod.

Andrew must still see that he doesn’t fully understand, because he continued softly, “He promised he’d stay” before nodding at Betsy and leaving the two of them alone in the room.  

Aaron doesn’t hear Betsy’s chipper goodbye or even comprehend most of practice afterwards. His mind is reeling and even though Andrew only gave him ten words, it feels like one hell of a step forward.  

It’s only later at one of the Fox movie nights that Aaron realized why Andrew’s fidgeting looked wrong.  He’d seen that gesture before.  Andrew’s right hand gently tracing the scars on Neil’s as they sit side by side in silence, barely acknowledging each other but still taking pleasure in each other’s presence.   It’s easy to miss the moment when Neil leans easily back into Andrew and Andrew only tugs their scarred hand closer.  

Aaron hated that it’s this little action is what finally makes him understand. Andrew’s words about Kaitlyn no longer felt like a dig.   It was his brother’s roundabout way of trying to phrase his relationship with Neil in a way Aaron would understand. When you love someone, the world seems safer with them in it.  Andrew might not have said the word love, but he didn’t have to. 

[sonnetthebard]

You know that headcanon about Crispin getting into fights by accident? And his worst one being with Vern at a wedding? Could you maybe please write a fic about that? And maybe throw some Crispin x Odie in there if possible? Thank you!

Oh lord, here we go-

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Comedy/ Romance Words: 2283 TL;DR: Crispin really, REALLY should start talking when people want to fight him. TW: Fighting, swearing, drunkeness

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Crispin bit his lip, sitting silently during the wedding reception. He didn't like weddings. He actually didn't like big events at all. Too many people. It made him anxious. But... this was Vern's sister and Mary Jo's brother's wedding. Not that he was friends of either of those people (he didn't even know their names, and that should say a lot considering the size of the town they were in). But he was Ellis' cousin and Vern was his friend, so he had to be there. Plus Odie loved weddings, and he would walk to the ends of the earth for that man. so... here he was. At a wedding reception. The last place in the world he'd want to be on a Wednesday evening. Vern had even done him a 'favour'. He'd made a little 'boys' table with all the people he knew Crispin considered to be friends. It was him, Vern, Ellis, Donny, Odie, Desmond, Aubrey and Sybilus. Apparently Ellis had insisted Vern talk to his sister about it because he 'didn't want his little cousin getting lonely'. Little did Ellis know that Crispin would really rather be alone right now.

It was a good party. And the food was good- especially since he didn't have to pay for it. Vern had made sure they had the best cuts of meat for the dinner, and god was it delicious. Like, the beef option was this melt-in-your-mouth prime rib and it was perfectly cooked. It was almost enough to make Crispin not regret that he'd come to the wedding. But on the downside... everything was so, so loud. Everyone was talking, which meant that naturally everyone was talking over each other. And everything just got louder and louder. It gave Crispin a headache. There was a reason Crispin didn't speak, and it was because he liked the quiet. He liked to be able to hear the voices in his head and think clearly. And words... they complicated things. Especially love. Crispin had seen love go wrong so many times because of words that hadn't been thought out properly. At least with signing you really had to think out what you were going to say. Odie and Crispin did just fine without verbal communication, thank you very much. He wished the rest of the world give it a try.

Crispin had sort of zoned out of the conversation. After all, with so many voices coming at him from every direction... it was hard to follow one set. He just looked around the room, taking everything in. he had to admit, the little tent they'd set up for the reception was lovely. It was pristine white. And inside, Ellis and Mary Jo had decorated it with some gorgeous flower arrangements. Nothing too overwhelming in scent though. And the music... their DJ was good. The whole ambience of the wedding was lovely, save for the voices. Now, if you could just funnel all that noise out and get Crispin a book... things would be great. Yeah. He could go for a book. And another one of those prime ribs. That was good. He hoped the cake was that good. So many wedding cakes just tasted like soap. He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts by a rather sharp nudge from someone. Crispin blinked, snapping his head to see who it was. It was Odie.

"What're you giving me that look for?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin blinked in shock again. Was his face doing that thing again?

"I'm sure he didn't mean to give you any look, Vern... Right, Crispin?" Odie prompted. Crispin nodded, genuinely confused and a little scared. What had he missed?

"No, he did this sassy little eye-roll thing!" Vern insisted. Oh shit, had he? He knew he did that when he was thinking sometimes. "You didn't think my little sister looked good, did you?"

"N-n-n-now Vern... let's not be r-rash..." Sybilus tried to soothe him.

"What was wrong with how my sister looked on her wedding day, Crispin?" Vern asked. He took a look at Vern's place. Ah. He'd gotten some beer. How much had Vern had to drink already? Because depending on how drunnk he was... this could be very bad for Crispin. He frantically signed at Odie, Donny and Ellis.

'I wasn't even listening! I zoned out thinking about how nice this place would be to read in!' Crispin signed.

"You should really stop doing that." Odie advised him. "It never ends well."

'I know...' Crispin signed. 'Just... the whole ambience is great in here except for the voices. I can't help it that I just want to curl up with a book.'

"Well thank god." Ellis sighed in relief, relishing in the drama of it all. "Vern, he-"

"No. No, I want to hear him fucking say it." Vern almost growled. Crispin went pale. No, he didn't want to speak.

"Language!" Desmond chided.

"Vern, you know he doesn't do that!" Donny rolled his eyes.

"I want to fucking hear it from him!" Vern demanded, standing up. He grabbed Crispin by the collar of his shirt. Crispin gulped nervously. God, Vern was so much bigger than him. "What the fuck was wrong with my sister, you little shit?"

"Vern... I think it would be best if you set him down..." Aubrey attempted to soothe. Crispin gave a pleading look to Ellis, knowing that as a relative of the groom maybe he'd be able to talk Vern down.

"Vern, Crispin doesn't speak. And I know he didn't mean to insult your little sister." Ellis stated. "He was lost in his thoughts."

"Fucking creep... were you thinking about the bride on her fucking wedding day?" Vern spat, his words just a little slurred. Shit. Oh, he was drunk. Crispin was fucked.

"Vern... Vern, what's going on?" The bride asked, scared.

"This little shit wants to get in your pants!" Vern glared at Crispin.

"No... no, Vern, he wasn't thinking of her!" Ellis cut in. He liked drama, but he wasn't going to ruin any marriages. "He was thinking about how nice it would be to read in here."

"You fucking expect me to believe that?" Vern rolled his eyes.

"Vern, it's true." Odie insisted.

"Maybe it's what he's saying to you, but that doesn't make it the truth!" Vern growled. No, no one was going to talk Vern down at this poin.

"Vern, think about who we're talking about for a minute. This is Crispin. He doesn't have it in him to insult anyone." Odie pointed out.

"Well..." Donny countered. Odie mouthed a 'not helping' to him.

"Not to their face." Vern grumbled, eyes trained on Crispin. Crispin hated this. But... he couldn't find his voice. At this point, if he could he would.

"Listen, Vern, there's like... literally nothing to insult." Donny shrugged. "I mean, sure, the whole look was a little... old."

"Is that what you called my little sister with your fancy little hand dancing? Did you call her old?" Vern glared at Crispin. Crispin shook his head.

"Old can be beautiful." Aubrey tried. "That's why we study history. There's a lot of beauty in the past."

"Vernie, I was going for a historic wedding." The bride told him. "That was a compliment!"

"Stop trying to fucking vouch for him!" Vern snapped at everyone.

"Vern, enough!" Desmond demanded. "Put Crispin down!"

"No!" Vern shook his head. He focused on Crispin again. "You little shit... no one gets to insult my little sister."

And with that, Vern threw the first punch. It his square in the jaw. Crispin yelped, and everyone gasped. Ellis looked absolutely scandalized- which was a fact Crispin wasn't entirely sure why he'd noticed but he was a bit out of it. His brain was focusing on a lot of weird things. Like how weird Dr. Edwards' laugh was. He was snapped back again when Vern threw another punch. Crispin tried to block it... to no avail. He dodged a third punch. Then Crispin was slammed onto the table... and that was all that Crispin could really remember clearly. He remembered he'd started fighting back in self defense. he hated to, and it hadn't done much good, but... he had to do something. He remembered everyone- including the bride- begging Vern to stop. But... Vern was pissed. Like, drunk and very angry. He was an angry drunk to begin with. It was just Crispin who had gotten his anger that night. He should've known better than to drink at his sister's wedding.

Anyways, they fought until he literally knocked Crispin out. Crispin remembered waking up very briefly in Dr. Edwards' office, but it was late and he was tired so he just went back to sleep. The next day when he woke (still in Dr. Edwards' office) Odie was sitting on the bed beside him and dabbing at something on his face. Or maybe he was cleaning it. God, his face was so tender. Were those stitches? Shit, how bad had things gotten? Crispin groaned quietly. He didn't like this. He had a massive headache- and he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol. It seemed Vern had had enough for the both of them. He'd kind of hoped that the night before had been a nightmare. But here he was. His jaw was killing him... which meant Dr. Edwards probably hadn't given him any pain meds. Odie smiled softly, being a bit gentler.

"Hey, Cris." Odie sighed. "Sorry about last night... we tried. But... I guess the groom got Vern's favourite beer in for the wedding. We didn't really think anything of it until... well, you know what happened."

'Did I win?' Crispin tried to sign. But his right arm was really sore.

"No... no you did not." Odie chuckled softly. "Hey, don't sign if you don't need to. You bent your wrist back trying to punch Vern last night."

'O-H G-O-D (Oh God)' Crispin fingerspelled, before starting to laugh. 'I A-M S-U-C-H A W-I-M-P (I am such a wimp)'

"No, Crispy... you're just a bit smaller than Vern." Odie chuckled along with him. He cupped Crispin's face gently, dabbing a few final tiems above Crispin's eyebrow. "You just lay back and relax. I'm going to take care of you."

"Is he in here?" A voice called in. Crispin tried to sit up and found that he was very sore. That made sense. Vern had kicked the shit out of him. He laid back down. Now he understood what Odie had meant when he said he should lay back and relax. Odie turned his head, sighing before letting go of Crispin and standing up.

"Yeah, he's here." Odie sighed. "Cris, it's Vern."

"Hey..." Vern bit his lip. he came and sat on the bed. Crispin immediately tensed, still a bit scared. "Hey... I am so sorry for this."

'It's okay.' Crispin tried to sign.

"He says it's okay." Odie translated.

"I took it way too far... man, I was so drunk... and my hangover is terrible." Vern sighed. "But like... I'm guessing it's nothing compared to what you're going through. God, I am so sorry..."

"It's fine." Crispin sighed. "Really."

"Hey, you don't have to do that." Vern told him. "I was so out of line, asking you to talk... and assuming that you thought my sister was ugly... man, I was a total idiot."

"Well, that's what too much alcohol will do." Odie chided.

"Yeah..." Vern agreed. "Listen, I just wanted to be sure you're okay... I know I can get really intense when I'm fighting."

"It'll take him time to recover, but... he'll be fine." Dr. Edwards slurred from where he was slumped over in the corner.

"Good." Vern sighed in relief, looking over Crispin again. "When you're feeling better, you come by the butcher shop. I'll give you anything you want."

'You don't need to.' Crispin signed.

"He says you don't need to." Odie translated.

"Yeah I do." Vern chuckled. "Just take it, okay bud?"

'Fine.' Crispin signed.

"He gave in." Odie told Vern.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... last night got me thinking... would one of you mind teaching me how to talk with the hand thing?" Vern asked.

"I can show you how to sign." Odie nodded. "Ellis, Donny, Rita and Sybilus also sign if you ever need help."

‘S-Y-B-I-L-U-S signs?’ Crispin blinked. 

“Yeah! He went nonverbal for a while when he was younger, remember?” Odie smirked. He looked back at Vern. “Anyways... any of us would be happy to teach you. Just ask, any time.”

"Thanks." Vern smiled softly. He got up, heading for the door. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. Feel better soon, Crispin. I am so sorry."

'It's okay.' Crispin chuckled.

"He says it's okay." Odie smiled.

"Okay, bud, you're coming with me." Vern sighed, scooping up a somehow already drunk Dr. Edwards.

"But I'm gonna miss the good part!" Dr. Edwards whined. "Wanna stay until they kiss!"

"Not happening." Vern rolled his eyes, smirking. he called back to Odie and Crispin as he left. "Bye guys!"

Crispin waved.

"Well that was nice of him." Odie smirked. climbing to lay next to . "I like Vern."

'M-E T-O-O W-H-E-N H-E-S S-O-B-E-R (Me too when he's sober).' Crispin teased, fingerspelling so he could rest his arm.

"Which is most of the time." Odie chided teasingly.

'Y-E-A-H. (Yeah)' Crispin chuckled. He sighed. "Thanks for doing this."

"Well... you're a lot of trouble, but you're cute... which kind of makes up for it." Odie teased. "So I guess I don't mind so much."

'Y-O-U K-N-O-W Y-O-U L-O-V-E M-E (You know you love me)' Crispin rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah. I do." Odie shrugged, equally as teasing. He leaned in and gently kissed Crispin, who blushed. "Maybe it's a good thing that we're teaching him how to sign so that this doesn't happen again."

Crispin couldn't have said it better himself.