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To Tempt Fate - Yandere!Trickster Deities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Trickster AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on ??? to start hehehe)

Words: 2,246

Warnings: Implied drugging and kidnapping. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise!!! Here’s to the start of yet another series that I hope you’ll all enjoy!! This one is going to be a bit darker than the other ones in terms of content, but it draws a bit of inspiration from The Hunger Games, and survival horror game in general. I’m really excited for this series since I have quite a bt planned for it, but I'm not sure how updates for it will look. It might just be a short side project I work on every now and then between chapter of Morning Mist and book two of HC, but I shall see! Also, if you have any predictions or theories I'd love to hear them!! Can you guess who is who yet based on the eyes? 👀 Anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! I hope you enjoy!!~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist

There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t disappear. A blaring hum that echoes almost periodically beside your head as your brow furrows. Your eyes remained closed, the familiar throb of a headache pounding against you skull. Slowly, you begin to move.

Blinking, your gaze shifts into focus, and you notice that you’re inside an unfamiliar room. The four walls are small, boxing you in on every side as you see random objects scattered around. There’s a small dresser off to the side, and as you push yourself up into a sitting position, you realize that you’ve been laying on a bed of sorts. Directly across from you sits a floor length mirror, your reflection staring back at you with nothing but confusion on your face.

The ringing starts again, and it is then that you realize that it’s your phone.

Odd, considering you always keep it on silent. Cautiously, you reach over and grab the small object from the bed. 

The number that appears onscreen is one you do not recognize, and given the sluggish state of both your mind and body, a creeping sense of dread begins to wash over you. 

You’ve most likely been drugged, and even worse, kidnapped.

Though, you find it odd that your phone remains, untouched, in your hands.

The call cuts out, the familiar picture of your home screen being displayed before your very eyes. You should probably call someone for help.

Unlocking your phone, you’re quick to open your contacts, clicking on the name of your closest friend. You hear the dial tone sound out before a harsh screeching can be heard on the other end.

Your phone goes black.

A furrow creases your brow as you turn your phone back on, seeing nothing out of the ordinary once more. Though, this time, you notice how the top corner now says ‘no service’ despite having full bars only moments ago.

That’s strange, considering you had just been receiving an incoming call not even two minutes ago.

The sound of your phone ringing once more startles you into nearly dropping it onto the ground. That same, unfamiliar number appears on your screen, practically staring up at you ominously as your heart begins to race inside of your chest.

Your eyes dart to the top corner of your screen.

No service.

Swallowing thickly, you answer the call.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out strained, only now realizing the dryness of your throat as you attempt to speak.

“Hello, Darling,” a male voice drawls out on the other end, practically purring the words out as unknown affection drips from his tongue.

“Who the hell are you, and what do you want?” You frown, sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed. Your one arm is crossed over your chest as you press your phone to your ear, staring straight ahead at your reflection in the mirror.

“My name is not of importance right now, but you are.” A giggle that sends a chill right down your spine is heard through the line. “As for what I want… well… you’ll find out soon enough. For now, I’d like to play a game.”

“I’m not playing any of your sick, twisted games.” You spit, whole body tense as anger begins to course through your veins. “Let me go, and we can pretend like none of this has ever happened.”

“Now, why would I want to do that when the prize is already within my grasp?” He replies smoothly, clearly amused by your sudden harsh tone.

You’ve heard rumours. Mere myths and legends told to you by the townsfolk of people going missing every ten years or so. Eight are usually kidnapped, forced to take part in these insanity games, yet only one ever survives. The one that does is always forever changed, prattling on about eight figures with extraordinary powers. Powers the likes of which you have never seen.

These eight figures force their victims to partake in a ritual sacrifice, disguising it beneath the premise of a game. Nothing they say can be trusted, and as soon as you are in their clutches, you can no longer trust your own mind.

At least, that’s what you’ve been told. Nothing more than a scary bedtime story for parents to tell their children in order to make them behave. A fantasy conjured up to spread fear into a town which had badly been in need of some self-control.

“Don’t let the tricksters get you! They’re always out for blood.”

You shake your head. “You sound so confident in yourself.”

The man hums. “Why wouldn’t I be? I always get what I want.”

“Not this time.” You hiss, promptly hanging up on him.

The phone in your hand gets harshly slammed down on the mattress before you’re fully crossing your arms over your chest. You can hear the familiar ringing echoing throughout the room a moment later, but you ignore it. Only when your head begins to feel fuzzy, the sound literally beginning to bounce around inside your skull, do you snatch the phone back off of the bed beside you.

“What?” You spit, a harsh tug of your brows downwards as you direct your fury filled gaze at your reflection across from you.

“The next time you hang up on me, I won’t be so forgiving.” The man’s voice is somewhat firmer this time around. Darker, in a sense, as you can tell he means every word that he says.

“You sure are putting a lot of thought into this game of yours.” You quip, gaze darting everywhere around the room for a way out.

The door looks like a good place to start.

“Only the best of the best can survive, Darling,” he replies, and there’s a sick tone of what you can only guess to be pride lingering in his voice that has you shuddering instantly. “It’s why we’re putting our faith in you this time around.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You attempt to turn the knob of the door, only for it to be locked.

“We’ve decided to make an exception this time.” He responds, amusement clear in his voice as he hears you jostle the handle of the locked door a few more times to no avail. “You are the only true contender for the game this year. At least, the one we’re all betting on.”

“Yeah, you said that already,” you reply, gruffly.

Taking a step back, you eye the door cautiously. It appears to be nothing more than a simple wooden slab, but you cannot tell how thick it is. You’ll look around the room first for something to pick the lock with before attempting to break it down.

“That’s not going to work.” His voice singsongs, another spine chilling giggle echoing through your phone.

“You don’t know me, so why the fuck are you doing this?” You start rummaging through the dresser, seeing nothing but clothes that are conveniently your size placed inside. You scowl in disgust.

“Oh, but I do, My Darling,” the way he drawls out your name almost lovingly has a shiver caressing your spine once more. “We all do. Just as you know us.”

Your entire body stiffens, keeping your voice low as you reply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not think we research our chosen candidates before submitting them to our games? Is that not something you also like to do?” The amusement is clear in his tone, though it sounds more condescending than anything.

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your own voice is gruff as you manage to find a few pins hidden around the room.

“Don’t act so coy with me, Darling.” You can just hear the grin he wears through the phone. “I know you’ve taken a keen interest in us. Almost as much as we have taken an interest in you.”

You remain silent, working to unlatch the lock on the door with those few pins you found. They might even come in useful later.

“Survive our games, and we will tell you all that pretty little mind of yours wants to know about us.” The male tells you.

You manage to hear the faint click of the lock sliding out of place, and your heart skips a beat in relief. “And if I don’t?”

“Then we will finally claim what has long since been desired before the time is up.” He replies, and you can hear the eagerness that leaks into his tone. The excitement alone that bleeds through causes you to grimace, a wary look in your eyes.

Then, your brow furrows in confusion, the question easily forming on your lips. “And just what could you all have possibly desired for so long?”

You stand back to your feet as you hear him chuckle. “You.”

A chill travels through your entire body as you go still, hand frozen in the air just before the doorknob. Your heart feels as if it has leapt into your throat, breath hitching as you stare straight ahead.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling right now. Cold, dreadful fear.

“Complete our game, Darling, and we’ll give you everything you could ever want.” His voice lowers, as if he’s standing right behind you and softly caressing your ear with his whispered promises. You tense. “Anything you could ever need or desire, we will always provide for you. You just have to prove you’re worthy of us first.”

“Are you sure it’s me that needs to prove their worth to you?” You scoff, finally coming back to your senses enough to turn the handle of the door and fling it open. “I don’t need your pity.”

“If you think we pity you, you are sadly mistaken.”

“And if you think I’m going to willingly go along with this stupid game of yours, you are sadly mistaken.” You snap, stepping through the threshold and into what appears to be a large garden maze of some sort.

A boisterous laugh reaches your ears through the line. A laugh which has your brows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh, My Darling,” he sighs wistfully. “You already have.”

The sound of the line going dead reaches your ears, and you realize that whoever you’ve been talking to has ended the call. There’s an inkling in the back of your mind as to who it could have been, but you cannot be too sure until you meet him in person. Only their eyes reveal their true selves. Eyes which can never hide their intent, or so you’ve been told.

Each of the eight have a specific colour to their irises that designates their true self. From what you’ve uncovered about them, the colour reveals their age. Though, from what you understand, you’re surprised the eldest isn’t their so called leader.

Yellow. Ice blue. Red. Deep Purple. Light green. A burning orange which appears almost amber in the light. Pure white, to the deepest of blacks. All are signs of the eight tricksters which live for the thrill of the hunt. Signs you must keep alert for at any cost, for if you spot them, that means that you haven’t necessarily found them, but they have found you.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you step outside. You purse your lips, scanning the area for anything useful or familiar to you, taking in your surroundings all the while.

A stone bench sits off to the left, hidden away almost inside one of the maze’s walls. Staring forward reveals an entrance to said maze, the darkness of its interior spreading out before you. From what you can see, the path splits off to either side, giving you two options to take every time you enter. To your right rests a pure white lattice archway, red roses creeping up the sides delicately.

Turning around reveals the room you had woken up in to be a small shack of some sorts, wood lining its exterior. It appears no bigger on the outside than within, nothing more than a supposed cozy place to rest your head.

Looking up reveals the night sky, stars twinkling brightly above. The only light offered is from the moon, but oddly enough, there seems to be a natural glow surrounding the area. It’s almost as if you’ve suddenly gained the ability to see better in the dark, but you know from what little lore you’ve read about these supposed games that it’s simply a trick of the mind. It’s probably not even nighttime.

Letting out a sigh, you trudge forward. Looks like you should at least begin to explore the maze for now. You’ll need to find some food, and potentially some weapons to start. Who knows what’s lurking in the shadows just beyond your line of sight. Perhaps even a flashlight, or lantern might help.

Besides, you know more about this little game of theirs than you want to admit, and if you run into another competitor, you do not want to be the first one downed. Hopefully, though, you run into people simply wanting to escape like you do, rather than the other alternative these eight tricksters are always so keen on encouraging. You’d rather create allies, rather than enemies to start.

Stepping forward with nothing but the clothes on your back, and a cellphone that has been practically rendered useless in your back pocket, you begin.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [1]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 9,133

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, talks of drug addiction

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: It’s finally here!! I promise this book will be more fun than previous one and it stays mostly canon besides a few things, so have fun lol I really hope you guys like this!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Being back in Gotham is almost surreal. When you were uprooted over a year ago, you weren’t sure if you’d ever make it back. Hell, you didn’t think you’d ever make it out of that basement, let alone back home. But, here you are. You’re back in Gotham and there’s a weight that is lifted from your shoulders.

You knew you missed it but you didn’t realize how much until now, standing outside of Wayne Manor. This isn’t even your home, the Manor, but it is a staple in Gotham. You thought maybe you would miss San Francisco and want to go back after a week or so, but right now, you’re positive that won’t be the case. This is home.

And then there’s Jason who’s standing confidently with a content smile pulling at his face. You have Jason here. You swears you’re happier around him, no matter where you are. He makes the world better, your world. You’ve only known each other a few months now but it feels like you’ve been friends your entire lives and you wouldn’t trade him for anything. You are so happy to be here with him.

“Want the tour?” Jason asks, carrying your bag for you and he’s got this sly grin, the one you’ve missed more than you thought possible.

“Of Wayne Manor, hell yeah, lead the way.” Your smile is so bright and Jason missed you, too.

This is his home. A part of him still isn’t exactly used to it. He’s not sure if he ever will be entirely, it’s not exactly him but it’s his home. And he’s welcoming you right into it because, despite his inhabitations and the paranoia that leaks into the brightest parts of his mind, he knows he can trust you with his home. With those parts of himself and he is just so happy to have you here with him. Just him.

Jason gestures an arm out forward, ushering you forward and the two of you walk inside. Jason leads you to your room first to set your bag down. He opens the door for you and allows you inside while he leans against the doorframe, sticking his hands in his front pockets. You walk in, looking around and taking the room in. He’s missed you.

It’s only been a month but it’s felt like the longest month of his life. Jason knew he missed you, that was undeniable. But, he didn’t realize just how much until he picked you up from Titans Tower. He saw you and the smile that split his face was uncontrollable. He remembers that day he left with Rose, how you wanted to convince him to stay but you didn’t because you didn’t want to be selfish. He gets it now because he wanted to ask you if you’d come back with him sooner, when he left with Bruce. That’s not fair to Gar and he knows that and he’d never ask you to pick between the two of them. But he wishes he would have anyway because a month away from you feels like an eternity.

“What do ya think?” Jason asks, his voice has this warmth to it that you’ve never heard before. You wonder if the warmth is because this is home and Titans Tower always felt like a hotel.

“It’s big.” You laugh. “Of course it is. And it’s dark and moody, very on brand for fucking Batman.” You roll your eyes, putting your bag down on the bed.

“Yeah, it’s his thing.” Jason chortles. “I’m right down the hall.” Jason jerks his head to the left.

“You’re always right down the hall. Can’t stand to be that far away from me, huh?” You give him a smirk with the wiggle of your brows.

Jason feels the blush creep across his face. “You came here with me, babe.” Jason quips and he’s missed this, too. You don’t play the game over text.

You rolls your eyes but your smile is starting to hurt your cheeks. “You gave me no choice, shithead.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yeah, okay.” You look down to your shoes and back to Jason before walking up to him. “Tour?”

“Come on.” Jason pushes himself off the doorframe and the two of you start the tour.

Jason leads you around the manor, showing you the living rooms and kitchens because of course, there’s more than one of both. He shows you the several bathrooms and an in-home gym and training room. Jason ends the tour though, with his favorite room of the house, the library. He opens the doors with confidence, walking right inside to allow you to follow him.

You look around, seeing large library shelves holding tons of books. There are windows against the wall facing you and a couch up against it with a small coffee table right in front of the window. The couch is the same as the ones in all the living rooms. Bruce definitely has a theme. Dark and moody. Jason’s smile is soft as he looks at you.

“You would end the tour here.” You state softly.

“You surprised?”

“Not even a little bit.” You smile softly at him because he didn’t need to show the room to you. You don’t like to read but he did anyway, because it’s his thing. “Favorite room?”

Jason nods. “Yeah, spend a lot of time in here or training.” Jason’s eyes look up with the last word.

“Of course.” You laugh softly. “It’s cool.”

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, it is.”

He looks content, comfortable. There’s an easiness about him here. Back at the tower, he seemed on edge a lot, even before Deathstroke. He always had this wall that, everyone would argue wasn’t worth the effort to knock down, but you never had any issues. It was a wall though, a sturdy brick wall that was completely unmovable. But, here, right now, he looks so content and comfortable. No one would ever know the horrors he’s experienced by looking at him right now.

You walk up to him. “How are you?” You point a finger to your head. “Ya know?”

“I’m fine.” Jason shrugs the question off. He doesn’t wanna go there today. “How’re you?”

“You sure?” You ask and you’re just checking on him. “Happy to be back.” You answer so simply that Jason’s heart explodes in warmth.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jason urges, the smile splits his face. “You look happy.” Jason chuckles softly.

It feels different. Getting on the plane and you telling him about some of the Titans stuff he's missed. It feels different but in a good way. It’s like with the tower, there was all this added pressure for the both of you. Expectations to be something more than what you both were dealt. And there were the feelings you had for Gar that Jason tried his best to tip-toe around. But right now, you get to exist together outside of those expectations. He is Robin and he gets to be Robin like he has been. You get to just exist in a home. It is comfortable, already and you have each other. It feels different but in a way Jason’s never quite felt before.

“Wanna get some food?” Jason asks.

“You hitting me on, Jay?” The corner of your mouth twitches into a teasing smirk.

It’s the game the two of you love so much. This time though, there isn’t anything standing in your way to actually play the game how Jason wants to. A little more contact, make the game a little more thrilling.

“Got a problem with it?” Jason smirks back, taking a step forward, closing the short distance between you.

You narrow your eyes and you’re surprised by the comment but you would never have a problem with it. “Well, if I’m gonna get good out of it, I guess not.”

Jason laughs. “Oh, so you’re using me for food, huh?”

“I do like food, Jay.”

“Wow.” Jason nods his head dramatically. “Didn’t think you’d use me. I’m so hurt.”

“Shut up.” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Where we going?”

“I’ll make burgers.” Jason holds a prideful grin.

“You can cook?” You quip.

“Hell yeah, I can cook.” Jason gestures his hands towards himself as if you should have always know. You’ve never seen him cook anything more than a breakfast sandwich and an omelet.

“Well, make me food!” You fake whine at him.

“Well, since you asked so fucking nicely.” Jason scoffs but his grin holds steady.

The two of you head to the kitchen that leads out into the back courtyard. That’s another thing you’re somehow surprised by. Of course, there’s a courtyard, but it’s shocking nonetheless. It’s so weird being here and being able to live here. You wonder how Jason ever adjusted because you’re not sure you can. But, you don’t say anything to Jason, instead, you watch him grab burgers from the fridge which were very clearly previously prepared and you think it’s sweet. Jason already had food prepped and there’s something so incredibly kind and thoughtful about it, it’s almost surprising. But, you still say nothing and instead just watch him fire up the grill once you both get outside.

“So,” You ask from your spot at the outdoor table. “How’s Gotham been?”

“Bruce is letting me be Robin some more.” Jason boasts, flipping one of the burgers.

“Really? That’s awesome, Jay. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, it’s been great.” Jason’s smile is warm and tender. “Went on Patrol last night.”

Jason wasn’t really sure if Bruce would let him after the whole Deathstroke fiasco. He thought maybe Bruce would want him to take some more time off and learn his lesson about going off on his own. But, Bruce let him right back out with him.

“How’d it go?”

“Great,” Jason holds his head with pride and he neglects to tell you it hasn’t been going that well every other night. “Took down some of Penguin’s men.”

“Oh, he’s still doing his Penguin thing?”

“Yeah.” Jason chortles. “Still making everyone else do the dirty work so his hands stay clean.”

“Gotta give it to him, smart.” You let out a laugh. 

Jason looks over with a scrunched nose. “Siding with a bad guy now? You alright?” Jason can’t help but laugh because he agrees with you. It’s Penguin, sure he does some fucked up shit sometimes, but usually, he’s the least of their problems.

“No, I’m just saying. If more of the fucks did what Penguin does, they wouldn’t get caught.”

“We still catch Penguin.” Jason points the spatula at you.

“Yeah, but not nearly as often as guys like Mr. Freeze or even Scarecrow. Scarecrow got people to do his shit, too sure, but the whole Fear Gas really pinned him.” You point a finger at him to mock him but Jason’s brows furrow as he looks at you with confusion. “What?”

“Don’t like Batman but you sure know a lot of the bad guys, huh?” Jason teases.

“Fuck Batman.” You let out a laugh and you decide to throw him a bone, just to see him get all flustered. “I like Robin though.”

Jason feels the heat creep onto his cheeks again and he turns away in hopes you don’t notice. You do though and your stomach swarms. He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“Suit do it for ya?” Jason manages to get out as he flips the burgers.

“It’s the eye shadow and the cape.” 

“Shut up!” Jason groans through a laugh, tilting his head back.

“Look at you, being a batboy again though.” You tease with the scrunch of your nose and maybe that’s why he seems like he’s in such a good mood. Robin means everything to him. 

“Alright.” Jason shakes his head and you drive him crazy in the best way possible. “How was being a Titan?” He looks over at you.

“Pretty good.” You shrug. “We took down part of some illegal gun trading ring.”

“Yeah?” Jason perks up with the comment.

“Mhm, pretty cool. We didn’t get all of them, Dick was figuring out a plan to get all of them when I left but yeah, it was pretty cool.” You offer him a soft smile.

It was definitely cool being a Titan. You felt useful. You were going something good and helping people with your friends. It didn’t feel like you were wasting away anymore. It was as if you had some sort of purpose even if it also felt draining. Fighting and taking down these guys is fun, thrilling, and empowering. But, you aren’t sure that’s the best thing for you right now. The paranoia is still in the front of your mind, worried about it backfiring one day. You know it’s not best to be a Titan or a vigilante at all for right now. You want to feel normal for at least a little bit before getting back into it. You’re so certain you will be getting back into it, just after a little time.

“Use your powers?” Jason asks, plucking one of the burgers from the grill and putting it on a plate.

“Knives and fists, actually.” You hold your head up high.

“Why don’t you use your powers? You have them.” Jason continues to place the rest of the burgers onto the plate.

You shrug. “I dunno.” You let out a sigh. “I don’t like the acid.” You watch as Jason walks over to the table, placing the plate right in the middle amongst the condiments and buns. Jason hands you a plate. “Thanks.”

“Is it because of Jerry?” Jason asks, grabbing you a bun and handing it to you.

“Yeah, like…using it means he still won, ya know?” You use a pair of tongs to put a burger onto your bun while Jason gets his plate ready.

“He didn’t though, you beat the shit out of him and he’s locked up. You won.” Jason takes a seat with his food, right next to you rather than across the table.

“Yeah, I know but…” You pause, grabbing one of the condiments. “Using them just reminds me of everything he did to me and that it’s his fault. With the clairvoyance, I can’t help it. So, that’s fine and that protects me but the acid…I don’t have to use it.” You clear your throat. “There’s also that whole thing about getting kidnapped, ya know? Bit worried that might happen again if someone knows.”

The only people you know with powers are the Titans. But, it seems they’re the ones getting kidnapped for having powers. Rachel was basically being hunted for sport, Gar did get kidnapped, and Conner was made in a test tube then kidnapped because of it. You’re pretty content not using your powers if that’s the risk you’re taking. You do not want to be locked in another basement. Over your dead body. Then, there is Jerry. He won if you use them. He gave them to you against your will. He doesn’t get to win. You escaped him and nearly killed him. He gets to lose.

“Yeah,” Jason sucks in a breath. “Kidnapping shit is a good point.” Jason lets out a scoff.

You’ve been held captive twice in under two years. You have a point and Jason can’t say he blames you. And you witnessed that be the reason for Gar being kidnapped and tortured, and brainwashed. Jason knows enough about what Jerry did to you to understand your resistance and hesitance with using your powers. He does, however, wish you weren’t scared because they could protect you. But, he keeps that to himself because he can’t dispute your fear and that’s not his place to do so. He is, however, certain he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find you if ever happened again.

“Fuck that piece of shit though. If you ever want to use your powers, you should out of spite.” Jason states. “It’s like a fuck you to him. He gave you powers so he could have them and now he gets to rot the fuck away in prison.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You let out a soft laugh. “You’ve got a point.” You do like the idea of spite. There is no better fuel than spite sometimes.

“I always have a point.” Jason chuckles, adding mustard to his burger while you take a bite of your burger.

“Okay.” You swallow. “Why is this the best burger I’ve ever had?” Of all things Jason Todd can do, cooking seems to be the weirdest. Theater nerd, bookworm, chef?

“I told you I can cook.” Jason holds a triumphant smile.

“Seriously? How? How do you know how to cook?!”

There’s a sad smile that crosses his lips as he takes his own bite. “My mom.” Jason swallows. “I used to cook for us. She was always high out of her fucking mind so it was I cook or we both starve.” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “You get creative when you don’t have more than a handful of shit that’s actually edible.”

“You took care of her?” You ask, your voice gentle.

You never asked about his mom. It didn’t seem like a topic he’d ever want to discuss. You never want to talk about your dad. But, you’ve been through so much shit together, you don’t think any question could possibly be off limits between the two of you. And Jason taking care of his mom actually makes perfect sense. That explains a lot about him.

Jason nods softly. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “She was my mom.”

“I kind of thought you hated her.” You state honestly, you hate your dad so you always figured Jason hated his mom. But it was different. While Jason’s mom was an addict, she at least didn’t abandon him.

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “I’m mad because fucking drugs, right? Why the fuck wasn’t I good enough for her? To quit, get help, or some shit. But, I don’t hate her. I always took care of her.”

No one really gets that part of him. To have no hatred for his mom, of all people. Every day, she’d pick drugs over him. She’d date her dealers who were always terrible people. A lot of them abused Jason and his mom either did not care because she got a discount on whatever her drug of choice was at the time or she was so far gone, she didn’t even notice. But, it was the two of them a lot and it was his job to take care of her, even if it never should have been. She was his mom.

“That’s nice of you and honestly, good for you. It never should have been your responsibility.”

“Yeah, but it was.” Jason scoffs. “How about you?” Jason jerks his head up towards you in a quick motion. His mom is still sore spot for him, though. “Like, do you ever…wish you knew your dad?”

Jason never asked about your dad because he does, hate his dad. Jason lived with his mom because his dad was down and out. A part of Jason didn’t blame him. Addicts aren’t easy to be with but Jason was a kid. He never should have been left alone to take care of his mom. And when he did see his dad, sometimes he’s get mad because Jason’s always had a smart mouth, always been a troublemaker, and his dad would snap sometimes. Jason doesn’t have a grudge against him, but he doesn’t like him either. So, he never asked.

Your brows furrow as you continue to eat your burger. “I don’t know. Not really. I only saw him once, he came to yell at my mom. It was something about her not letting him see me or something. He shoved her and he was high as fuck. Never showed up again. Like, I wish I knew him but he also picked drugs over me and I don’t want someone who’s gonna pick drugs over me in my life. Even if it’s to tell him to go fuck himself.” You shrug. “I think I just want to know why but not enough to look for him or even hear him out if he shows up. Not worth my time.”

Jason lets out a soft chuckle and that’s something he gets. He wanted to know why his dad was the way he was but it wasn’t worth it to ask. It wouldn’t have made the situation better. It wouldn’t have changed anything. It probably would have made things worse.

“Dads, right?” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Yeah.” You scoff and for a second, you think that at least he has Bruce. Bruce might not be the best by a long shot, but he at least cares about him. “Anyway,” You sigh. “This is seriously really good.” You smile at him. “I think you should cook for me all the time.” You beam.

“Oh, now you want me to be your personal chef?” Jason quips.

“You’re so good at it, Jay.” You lean in closer to him, batting your eyelashes and Jason’s heart stops in his chest. Maybe he misses that feeling, too.

“Kissing my ass?” Jason’s brows wave at you.

“Is it working?” Your smile turns cheeky.

“You could keep going.”

You let out a booming laugh, sitting back up in your chair. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.” Jason chuckles softly.

You make him feel so at ease with everything. He’s haunted and damaged and a little bit of a mess, but he doesn’t feel any of those things with you. He just feels like Jason Todd. And that is refreshing. And he misses your laugh and the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smiles at him. He missed the way his heart likes to do summersaults around you and the taunting smirks you give him. He missed the easiness you provide.

“Alright, how’re things, really?” Jason asks, sitting back in his chair, nudging your knee with his.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Nightmares, training.” Jason answers as smoothly as he can.

Maybe he’s been asking about you. You don’t lie to him but you omit information and Jason’s not mad about it. He never could be. He does it, too but with him not being at the tower, maybe he’s asked Gar and Dick a few times how you've been. They tell him point blank. At the end of the day, Gar and Dick know the two of you are the only ones who could ever get through to each other. So, when Jason asks, they tell him.

You pause, looking at him and how does he know that? Jason shows he cares in different ways than most people. Like, for example, he doesn’t tell them. That’s too much, too real. Instead, he does things for them. But this, for him to know that, he’d have to be asking about you. Of course, he could have figured it out. If anyone knows you the best, it would be him but the way he said it, you’re positive that’s not it.

“You asking about me?”

Jason shrugs. “And what if I am?”

You want to combust. You both tiptoe around the inevitable conversation. It’s bound to happen one way or another. But it’s day one in Gotham and neither of you want to go there yet. So, you dodge the game, just for that question.

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t know.” You shrug. “Most nights I wake up from a nightmare. I don’t really like to sleep anymore.” You chew the inside of your cheek.

Jason looks at you and he hates that for you. But he doesn’t really sleep either. Deathstroke has permanently destroyed parts of him and that includes the ability to get any real sleep. “You gotta find a way to sleep.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “But then I can’t sleep anyway so I train instead. But clearly, you knew that.” You widen your eyes at him. “Clears my head. Sometimes I can sleep a little after.”

“Same nightmares as before?”

“With the added attack of the tower, Gar dying. Lots of me dying, lots of me being the one who kills you and Gar. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason apologizes and he wants to do something that’ll help but he doesn’t know what. Not anything outside the routine you had fallen into at the tower. “Hey, uh, as long as you try to fucking sleep, you can always come into my room when you have a nightmare. I can read to you like before.” Jason offers, going back to his food to intentionally avoid looking at you.

You adore him with every piece of you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the sun revolved around him. “Thanks, Jay. Might have to take you up on it.” You laugh softly. “How’re yours?”

“Who said I’m having nightmares?”

You shrug. “Just have a feeling.” You’ve had texts from him at all hours of the day and night. If he weren’t having nightmares, he’d be sleeping at some point.

Jason sucks in a breath. “Same shit. Deathstroke. Someone chasing me around the manor with a gun. They shoot me and I wake up before I die, I guess. Shit's fucked.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“I’m sorry.” You nudge his leg with her knee and a sense of worry comes over you. That’s a new nightmare and you wonder if it’s getting worse instead of better. “My room will always be open for you, too.” You offer a soft smile.

“Thanks.” Jason chuckles softly.

“You and me.” You go back to your food and Jason swears he only ever wants it to be him and you.

“You and me.” Jason repeats.

As you and Jason finish your conversation, Bruce comes home. He greets you with a kind smile and a hello. He asked how the flight was. You explain that it was good and you’re very thankful and appreciative that he is allowing you to stay at the Manor. You’re still pretty sure it’s just a favor to Jason and not just out of the kindness of his heart. But, you’ll definitely take what you can get. Gotham is home and this is allowing you to be home, with your best friend.

The rest of the day goes by and you find yourself exploring the Manor with Jason until Bruce Bruce needed Jason for something Batman-related. So, you got to occupy yourself for some of the day. You did text Gar and let him know you landed and everything was good. You promised you’d keep in touch. This is nice though. There’s something that feels so good about it and you actually feel a little more at ease. You felt at home enough in San Francisco, at the tower with everyone, but not like this. This feels like it will be home again in such a specific way. It makes you so happy.

Later that night, Jason finds you in the living room, scrolling through your phone. He’s just gotten back from patrol with Bruce and it didn’t go too well. And the only thing he wants to do is sit down with you, forget about it entirely. And you’re completely oblivious to him standing in the doorway. But, he has a soft smile daunting his face. He’s so happy to have you here. The world doesn’t feel so heavy with you here now.

“Hey.” Jason greets you, plopping down right beside you, nearly sitting on you.

“Excuse the fuck outta you.” You snap your head in his direction, but you don’t move away. You get a look at a purple bruise hugging his jaw and blues circling his right eye, kissing the skin.

“What’re you doing?” Jason questions, looking over at your phone.

You jerk your phone away, furrowing your brows at him. He’s so nosy. “Well, I was scrolling through Instagram until you sat on me.”

“I didn’t sit on you, I sat next to you.” Jason smirks at you.

“Your big ass thigh is literally on my leg.” You point to him barely on you. You poke his leg, hard, and he doesn’t move, just laughs. His leg is strong against yours, it nearly hurts your finger with the poke.

“Are you complaining?” His eyes darken and he’s giving you that troubled smirk of his that sets your entire body on fire.

“You’re heavy, yes.” You shove him with a laugh and Jason barely even moves.

“Seriously, you have got to do better than that, babe.”

“Fine.” You yank your leg from him with very little effort and swing both of your legs over him, leaning your back against the arm of the couch.

“That did so much.” Jason chortles. He rests his hands on your shins, tapping with his thumbs and you shake your head.

Jason’s been…touchy today. The two of you have always joked and played chicken with each other. You’re always the chicken. But, today, he’s very touchy.  When walking around the Manor, he'd reach for your hand or put his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the courtyard. And you don’t mind but you’re wondering why that is. What changed in the month you’ve been a part that Jason is suddenly touchy? And Jason knows he’s doing it. A part of him is doing it because it’s just you. He doesn’t have to worry about overstepping his best friend anymore. You can play this game the way Jason likes to play. A little more contact, make the game of chicken a little more thrilling. And the other part of him, wants to see where it’ll actually go. For real this time, despite everything.

“But I have won because this is comfortable.” You give him a large toothy grin and Jason does that crooked smile, where he’s almost biting his bottom lip, like he’s thinking something mischievous. And you swear he’s the prettiest person you've ever met.

Jason leans forward, plucking the book off the coffee table in front of the two of you. You watch him carefully over your phone. Jason lifts his legs up, yours still on top of his, and rests his feet on the coffee table before opening the book where he has a piece of paper as a book mark. The bruise on his jaw shines against the low light, moving with his jaw as he swallows. You find yourself thinking you like the way the bruises always look on his skin. He looks perfect even with the blacks and blues and purples and reds. But, the other part of you, hates that he’s covered in bruises. He never should be.

You sit all the way up and move closer to him, placing your fingers on his jaw. Jason’s heart stutters in his chest but he lets you finish. You turn his face so you can get a look at the bruises that hug his jaw and paint his opposite eye. Your touch is so gentle and tender, Jason isn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, he almost wants to jump right out of his skin. But, he doesn’t dare move because despite his better judgement, he likes when you’re like this. It’s a side of you no one else ever really get to see and it makes him feel wanted.

“What happened?” You ask softly.

Jason is like a graphite drawing, small details in colored pencil. Messy and decorated with shades of blues and purples. But beautiful and soft. Despite the messy smudges and the accidental hard edges and hand prints, he’s so beautiful. He is this beautiful graphite masterpiece that you think should be on display everywhere. There is an effortless about him and ease about him. He pays those purple and blue splotches no mind as the corner of his mouth quirks into his signature grin. He’s so unbothered and pretty. The graphite isn’t damaged or too messy, the smudges make him…him.

“Dickweed got a few lucky hits in.” Jason scoffs and there’s a tiny bit of arrogance that flashes across his eyes. “Got ‘em back though.” Jason wiggles his brows and you brush your thumb over the bruise on his jaw line before shaking your head.

“Of course you did.” You laugh softly, pulling your hand away and Jason just almost grabs your hand back.

You knew you missed him. That was obvious every single day. A coldness came over like the first cold front of the winter. Expected but disappointing anyway. You didn’t know you missed this much. You had no idea you gave him this part of yourself and he took it back to Gotham with him. You think of the Iron Giant, how when he blew up and parts of himself went everywhere, his parts echoed, finding home. You think that’s how your heart is with him. He has a part of it, maybe without even knowing, and your heart beats and aches until you’re with him. You never realized that’s what the pain was until now, now that’s it gone.

You, instead of going back to his face, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you. The hug catches him off guard, you hug him but there’s usually some bigger reason behind it. Deathstroke, almost dying twice, leaving, meeting again. There’s usually something bigger there but Jason doesn’t get the sense that’s what this hug is for. So, he reaches up and hugs you back.

You scare him. Jason Todd is not supposed to be scared of anything and lately fear has been taking over his life. And he’s scared of you, but not in that petrifying and paralyzing way that’ll get him killed one day. He’s scared because you’ve been here before and he backed out. He pushed and ran and then you ran. You’re runners and pushers, it’s embedded so tightly through your DNA, Jason doesn’t think anything would ever stop either of you. And he’s so scared to let himself exist with you in the way he so desperately wants to. He could never handle you leaving him and he couldn’t handle hurting you. So, he pulls away, not too far, but enough to look at you.

“What’s up?” Jason asks, his eyes darting over your face and his expression is careful, desperate not to give away the ache of his chest.

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can’t hug you?”

“Always got a reason.” The corner of his mouth twitches up but it’s sad. If someone hugs him, even you, there’s usually a reason.

”I just missed you.” You shrug your shoulders with ease.

Jason can feel the heat creeping onto his face. “You’ve said like six fucking times today.” Jason lets out this laugh that you swear is better than any sound you’ve ever heard before. “I knew you wanted me, but fuck.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You let out a groan but you can’t get the smile to fall from your face. “Want you.” You scoff. “You’re the one who wants me.”

The smirk dances across Jason’s face. “Babe, if I wanted you, I’d have you.”

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes. “Like to see you fucking try, Jay.” You taunt and there’s nothing hold you back from it now. You aren’t a Titan right now. There’s no Gar or Rose. It’s literally just the two of you for the first time since you’ve known each other. And you see Jason pause and you’ve won. “Mhm, exactly. I win.” You hum triumphantly, leaning back against the arm of the couch and Jason doesn’t take losing gently.

If this is game you want to play, he’ll play ball. No one else is here anyway. Jason gets this darkness that crosses his eyes and you do is smile to yourself proudly, going back to looking at your phone. You’re positive, for once, he doesn’t have a come back. But, Jason sticks his finger in his book and stretches his right arm out, grabbing the collar of your hoodie and pulling you forward, bringing you an inch from his face.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, your breath catches in the very back of your throat. You swear you can taste your heartbeat in your mouth. Your stomach flips upside down, your bones feel like they’re turning to jell-o. How the fuck does he do that? His eyes are forest green in the low light of the living room and you swears it’s your favorite color now. That specific shade of green that should be named after Jason, himself.

Jason’s eyes dart between your eyes and your lips, he’s doing it on purpose. Jason does everything with intention. Impulsive? Yes. But, he has a purpose for everything that he does. He’s careful even when he’s impulsive.

“Mhm, exactly.” Jason’s voice is low, mocking you.

You finally let out a breath and look to his lips. For a split second, just a fraction of a second, you knows that if you close that distance, he loses. You’re picking up this game of chicken as if no time has passed and it feels like no time has passed. It feels like it did before Gar, before Rose, before Deathstroke. It feels like it did before shit hit the fan. And you know if you do something about it now, you’ll win. And you want to do it so badly, but you aren’t sure you want to be the one to do it this time. And, you like the cocky and arrogant smirk he gets when he wins.

“Fuck you.” You finally get the bitter words out of your mouth and Jason’s grin switches to cockiness, a triumphant win he doesn’t realize was handed to him.

Jason lets go of the collar of your hoodie, you falling back against the arm of the couch. “I win.”

“You’re so obnoxious.” You let out a whine and Jason sees the genuine smile pulling at the right side of your mouth.

“Just the way you like me.” Jason chortles, leaning back in his seat.

You almost tell him. But, you don’t think you actually have to. The both of you know. Neither of you are that obvious. You both already know there’s more here. Jason saw the way you were with Gar compared to how you are with him and he’s not so oblivious to not realize why even if it’s hard to believe. And you saw how he was with Rose, he’s different with you and Jason doesn’t let just anyone in. But you both do nothing about it because of fear and this is easier. The game you play, knowing something will happen sooner or later. This is easier than the conversations of risking the other breaking each other’s hearts. Taking those pieces of each other and the other tossing them into the river to drown. The risk is just a little too much for both of you right now and you don’t need the talk to know.

Jason looks down at his book before looking back to you. “Wanna watch something?”

Your brows furrow as you shake your head, as if to be doing a double-take of his words. “You? Wanna watch a movie?” You look up at him.

“Haven’t watched anything in a while.” Jason offers the softest of shrugs, trying to brush it off. He wants to watch something because that’s your thing.

“I always want to watch something.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “What’d ya have in mind?”

“You pick.” Jason chuckles, putting the piece of paperback in the book before tossing it onto the coffee table.

“I have suddenly forgotten every movie I have ever watched in my entire life.” You blink at him and Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Well, scroll.” Jason leans over you to grab the remote from the table beside the armrest.

He’s leaning over you, a little too close and your heart thunders. You can smell his soap on him and a hint of what you swear his in cologne he’d wear at the tower. A smile pulls at your lips, thinking that is a weird thing to put on after a shower at three in the morning. It’s such a Jason thing to do and you really do just adore him. Jason grabs the remote, hovering just above you with a wild grin and he did it on purpose.

“Here.” Jason states with ease, seeing the gentle expression of fluster across your face.

“Getting pretty close there, Jay.” You whisper, blinking at him and you take a page out of his book, actively glancing between his eyes and lips.

“You were in the way.” Jason doesn’t move and he can feel his stomach twist and turn.

“Right, could have asked me to grab the remote.” You put your hand on his, intentionally stalling as you grab the remote, keeping your eyes on him.

“Could have.” Jason shrugs a shoulder and he almost rests his forehead against yours because he can see your eyes darting across his face. But, it's you who do it first.

You can't help it. He gets close and it's the only thing you ever want, to keep him as close to you as long as possible. You feel warm when he's this close and the second he backs away, you’re cold again and you hate being cold. And Jason's entire brain is short-circuiting. Half of him is screaming 'do it' over and over again. It's screaming and banging at the inner walls of his mind, suffocating nearly every other reasonable thought he could possibly have. Then, there's the other part that thinks it's too soon even if he so desperately wants to cave to the voices in his head. And he is almost terrified of what would happen if he were the one to actually do it this time.

“Did you put on cologne?” You question him because one of you has to say something eventually and you decide, you'll do something if he has one of his usual quips. You pull away just enough to look at him and his eyes shoot wide open.

“No.” He scoffs, heat creeping up his neck as he finally back away. He didn’t think you’d notice.

You chuckle softly as you start to feel the cold creep over your bones. You were hoping he'd have a quip. “Okay, sure.” You shrug, looking at the TV and you can still feel your heart in your throat. “Smells good.” Jason gains a soft smile with your words as he watches you look at the TV.

You start scrolling through the home page, just in case anything sparks your interest. You look up in the corner to see if it says which profile it is. The picture is a picture of Jason, not smiling at the camera and the photo is simple but you think it’s cute. So, you scroll comfortably and naturally see one of the Saw movies recommended followed by Human Centipede and you cringe with the sight of the movie. The Walking Dead is under Jason’s continue watching, he’s on season 2 and you smile. Jason doesn’t watch TV but he’s watching one of your shows.

“Oh! Here.” You click a movie and look at Jason excitedly.

“Yeah…?” Jason chuckles softly and adoration bubbles in his stomach because he loves when you go on little movie rants.

“Happy Death Day.”

“Happy Death Day?” Jason nods. “Am I supposed to know what the fuck that is?”

“One of the best movies ever!” You yell excitedly and Jason loves when you get excited over movies. There’s an innocence about it. You’re anything but innocent so when you’re like this, Jason really likes it. “Groundhog Day?”

Jason shakes his head, looking at you with more confusion. “Which is?”

“Groundhog Day is a movie where the character repeats the same day over and over again.”

“Ugh.” Jason groans, tossing his head back against the back of the couch. “You like those movies?!”

“No! I don’t like Groundhog Day, that’s not my point. I like this movie.” You laugh. “She has to repeat the same day over and over until she finds her killer.”

“Oh, she just gets do-overs.”

“Yep, because Tree is a final girl and she’s a fun one, too.” You grin up at him. “Have I ever steered you wrong?” You offer him a pitiful pout and Jason nearly rolls his eyes into oblivion.

“No, you fucking haven’t.” Jason groans. You’re usually right but then he remembers something you did have him do once. “Actually, no that’s a lie. Remember that time you told me it was a good idea to use one of those smoke canons things on Dick while he made his coffee.” Jason reminds you and you nearly laugh yourself into a fit of tears.

“It was a good idea! He was pissed, he spilled coffee everywhere! There was blue dust covering the entire kitchen! He was blue for days! It was worth it.”

It was about three weeks after Dick had brought you back to the tower. Jason wanted to get Dick back for something stupid that happened in training. He had the bright idea to use one of the smoke canons they use for parties that are supposed to be non-toxic. He went to you, asking if it was a good idea or if he should think of something even better. You did not take long to tell him it was a great idea. You pictured Dick covered in blue smoke that would probably stain and he’d look like the guy from Big Fat Liar. That was enough for you to think it was a great idea.

Dick did not think so. Jason snuck into the kitchen, behind Dick and hid behind the counters before popping out and shooting one of the canons at Dick. Dick’s coffee mug hit the ground, shattering while coffee spilled everywhere. And he was covered in blue smoke. You were in the living, laughing so hard you started choking. Jason’s laugh bounced off of every wall and Dick wanted to yell because what the fuck? It was five in the morning. And this what he’s dealing with. Dick wasn’t actually mad though, not at first because it took a little bit of dedication for Jason to pull it off and for you to be awake at five in the morning. He stood there, completely silent as if to be questioning every life choice he’s made that lead him to that exact moment before finally muttering “I’m not cleaning this” and Jason immediately said he would through his fit of laughter.

It was after the shower that Dick was not happy. You were right, it did stain and he did look like the guy from Big Fat Liar. He still wasn’t that mad but he was going to dish out something because now he’s blue. Jason swore up and down it was worth it. And Gar and Rachel got a good laugh out of it, too. Rachel didn’t even want to think it was funny but Dick was in the training room trying to be so serious about something but none of you could take him seriously with a face as blue as Blue from Blue’s Clues.

“I got double chores for a week!” Jason yells.

“Well, it was a good idea for me. I got a good fucking laugh out of it and you had to pick up some my chores. So, I did not steer you wrong. I steered you exactly where I wanted you.”

All Jason can do is blink at you, he wants to laugh. You’re just as conniving as he is. You do it differently and he’ll definitely be getting you back for that.

“Yeah, don’t think you thought that far ahead.”

“Oh, didn’t I?” You wiggle your brows at him.

“No.” Jason states but his word is slightly unsure.

“Guess you’ll never know.” You shrug cheekily, looking back to the TV and you change the subject before Jason can dispute the discussion “Hey, Jay.”

“No, fuck you.” Jason scoffs, the corners of his mouth perking up.

“You should get me a blanket.” You offer a toothy, pleading smile.

“Do I look like a fucking maid to you?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.” You snicker to yourself and it takes everything in Jason not to start laughing and immediately get up to get you a blanket.

“Fuck you, no!” Jason huffs, you’ll be the death of him, he swears it.

“Please.” You lean forward, pouting your bottom lip. “It’s chilly.”

“It’s fucking July.” Jason’s voice booms as he finally lets the laugh slip.

“And three in the morning.” You bat your eyes at him.

“You’re so annoying.” Jason scoffs, moving your legs off him before he gets up.

“Maybe so, but you think it’s cute.”

“Do I?” Jason quips, you can see his canines through his fake scowl. He’s cute when he pretends to be mad. And Jason always thinks you’re cute, even when you’re not trying to be.

“Of course you do.” You hold your head up. “I think you’re cute.”

“Alright, shut up, pause the damn movie. What blanket you want?”

“Doesn’t matter, your pick.” Your smile turns soft and Jason nods his head slowly before turning around and heading down the hallway.

They say home is where the heart is. Jason thought that was a load of shit. His heart has belonged to several people, several places. His home, the library, his mom, his uncle, Bruce. He swore if home were a place, it would not just be the thing he loves. It would be a place he felt safe and comfortable, where he didn’t always have to look over his shoulder. It would be a place where he didn’t feel like he needed to hide a tire iron under his pillow or a baseball bat under his bed. He wouldn’t feel like he needs to hide food around the house, just to make sure he always has a stash, just in case. It would be a place of comfort and safety and peace. But, he’s walking to his room to grab a blanket for you and he thinks he feels more at home now than he ever has before. Jason pretends like he doesn’t know why that is, even if it’s chewing and biting and tugging the very center of his chest.

“Here’s your damn blanket.” Jason comes back, tossing it over your head.

“Hey!” You yell, pulling the blanket away. Jason lets out a soft laugh as he plops down beside you once more. “Rude.”

“I got the blanket.” Jason quips back. “You gonna share?”

“It’s JuLy.” You mock him while you swing your legs back over his. You spread the blanket over your legs, covering Jason, too.

Jason gains a grin looking back at you and you play the movie. The movie plays for a few minutes, before you break the silence and you think maybe Jason’s rubbed off on you because now you can’t shut up. You ignore the feeling that maybe it’s because you haven’t talked like this in a month. You ignore that maybe it’s just you missing him.

“You seem comfortable here.” You state, looking over him.

“Yeah,” Jason nods his head. “Gotham is fucking shitshow, but like you said, it’s home.” He shrugs a shoulder, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah.” You agree with him.

“You seem comfortable here, too. It’s your first day but you seem like you’ve been living here as long as I have.”

You offer him a kind smile. “Yeah…it feels nice. I like it here.” You think maybe you could feel comfortable anywhere as long as Jason is there.

He always offers a different type of comfort than Gar ever did. Gar offered comfort, it’s just different with Jason. He offers it with quips rather than tender words and kind touches. He offers it with sarcasm and fire in his bones. Gar offered it with softness and gentle words. Jason offers comfort in a way that makes you feel understood.

Jason moves his legs from under you and slide his on the couch, maneuvering himself to lean against the back of the couch, partially on you so he can lie down with his elbow holding his head up. The exhaustion of lack of sleep and patrol is finally catching up with him. He’s not sure if he could hold his head up much longer just sitting up. And you smile at him, a soft and loving smile.

“Tired?” You ask.

“I’m fine.” Jason answers and you think maybe it’s a reflex, to always say he’s fine. You hope he breaks the habit and chooses honesty one day.

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes. “Just lay down, I’m not gonna fucking bite you.”

“You do give biter vibes.” Jason huffs and you tap the top of his head. “Hey!” Jason lets out a laugh, looking up at you.

“I don’t bite people!” You glare at him before a flash of teasing comes across your eyes. “Well…not like this.”

Jason smirks. “Oh, that’s what you’re into? Yeah, that tracks.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jay?”

Jason laughs loudly. “Nothing.” Jason continues to snicker.

“Maybe I will bite you.” You mutter.

“You can bite me in that context all you fuckin want, babe.”

Your words jumble in your mouth like they’re all rushing out once and caused a traffic jam. How does he always do that?

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You quip and the response catches Jason off guard. He’s surprised you had a comeback.

“Wouldn’t be a threat.” Jason fires back.

“Lay down.” You roll your eyes and and stretch out your arms, welcoming him to lay with you. You think your smile might be stuck on your face like glue.

Jason smiles softly to himself and he does as told, scotting up closer to you, resting his head between your chest and stomach. You’re the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough to lay like this with.

A kind warmth fills your stomach with the butterflies swarming around. He’s so soft. He’s so soft and he’s so good. He deserves everything good to happen to him. Jason being rough around the edges but soft around you. It makes you want to melt right into the floor. He’s fucking cute. And you lift your hand, tangling your fingers in his hair, spinning his curls around her finger. Jason hums and he doesn’t remember the last time someone played with his hair but it’s nice. It’s relaxing and you just keeps doing it while the movie plays, absentmindedly enjoying the closeness. The both of you could easily get used to this.

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[navyhyuck]

let me go — 1.1k words, choi beomgyu

warnings: explicit and implied drug use (molly/ecstasy), vampire!gyu, pretty suggestive, reader hallucinates

a/n: DON’T DO DRUGS!!! this is purely fiction!!! and i am never encouraging drug use of any sort! this is actually outrageous and slightly dark, i sincerely and truly apologize. anyway, i wrote this around when dark blood came out (rip it’s been 7 months) and still.. it is my favorite concept from enha ever, dare i say their best..? anyway! enjoy and pls leave feedback <3

yeonjun warned you not to go too far tonight.

something about you ‘attracting attention’ when you’re entering a club you’ve never set foot in before, stumbling in your tracks with hands grasping at kai’s t-shirt, quiet giggles tumbling from your mouth as you’re led instead. everything’s spinning around you, blurring reds and greens, yet the bouncer seems the most unfazed, welcoming you in with a burning smile that should send red flags waving through your mind. but it doesn’t, no, of course not. that guy was just so nice to you.

and it doesn’t help when you’re leaning back shamelessly, over yeonjun’s chest on the small couch you were given, blinking teary-eyed at an unfamiliar, handsome boy above you, begging silently with your tongue outstretched, asking with your palm grazing over his shoulder–just to press that sweet little pill into your mouth. he obliges eventually, watching as you swallow intently, sighing deeply and collapsing against the other boy.

“fucking hell, y/n, what did we say—”

“relax,” you’re waving a hand in his direction, pulling yourself away to collect yourself, if that’s even possible. yeonjun’s eyes are sparkling��probably in anger or worry–but, ah, no. he’s doing just fine, you see, there’s a shining sound in the way he speaks to you. “that’s—my chem TA. his name’s soobin. i know him, he won’t kill me. i promise.” you smile widely, patting at his shoulder.

he knows you won’t lie to him, of course not, but when you’re already flushed from head to toe, slowly losing your senses as you speak to kai–who’s nodding politely at every word that falls from your mouth–it’ll be too much eventually. but your sweet chemistry TA being your plug? yeonjun wonders how much you’ve done to get him to behave like that.

but you’ve got that talent locked and loaded under your belt, waiting to leave its cage the moment you focus your eyes on the next target. yet now, as kai’s responding to you under his breath (or loudly. you can’t tell anyway.), there’s eyes on you already: the barrel of the gun pointed right at you, aiming just where it hits the best—you can almost taste it.

and it’s so sweet, even when you’re locking eyes with a familiar stranger who stands a few feet away, leaning against the bar counter in such an inviting position. his lips are so red, you think, oh, but you can’t see too well anyway. yeonjun’s wrapping a hand around your waist, just as he always does, so protective of you in your most vulnerable state but no–he doesn’t like that. you swear he’s come closer, barely in a millisecond that you feel as though you’re dreaming (but true hallucinations feel like reality).

before you can pull away, charm him on your own, such beauty stands right in front of you, outstretching a hand with a white smile. “your name, princess?” oh, yes, you’re hooked already.

“y/n,” you can’t tear your eyes away, it’s too tempting. and you place your hand in his, breath hitching easily when he presses his lips against your skin, peeking through eyelashes as he does so. a drug-like scent surrounds him, sweet and addicting, and everything muffles around you as you inhale.

you let him gather you away, barely registering yeonjun’s voice as he loses his grip on you. but no, you’ve never wanted anything so much before, you don’t think. even sober, red lips would catch your gaze from a mile away.

“who are you?” is the only thing you manage to ask—dizzily as you follow the stranger’s steps, dancing on the tips of your toes. his hand is ice-cold, sending shivers down your spine, and you don’t dare look away. it’s all too tempting.

he tells you his name is beomgyu. oh, beomgyu! he’s so pretty, so pretty, you can reach out and brush the gorgeous locks of brown hair away from his eyes, gazing into them as if there was no tomorrow. he’d look so close—he’s so close, eyelashes nearly tangling in yours (is that possible?) as he smiles at you. it may be sinister—who cares? you’d do anything for him.

beomgyu is so sweet, perching you on his lap, locking on you, purring “princess, you’d invite me inside your house, wouldn’t you?” yes! yes, oh yes you would. why not? he’s such a good guest, so good to you, you pull him past that stupid door and kiss him with every ounce of desire in your body. he’s caressing your face, admiring you, only you, all you.

you’re kissing him first, pressing impatiently against him, and it is so dreamy. like a dream! his locks of hair can tangle between your individual fingers—hell, you could braid it when you press insistently into his mouth. this is all you’ve ever wanted, and when he pulls back, glazing over you, he tells you he wants to bite.

“princess…” and you will never disagree. that fire in your body has you sweating, your body temperature shooting through the roof, and you’re baring your neck. your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, how encouraging, and the pain is replaced with an unadulterated pleasure—you’re nearly writhing.

you wish you had someone as sweet as beomgyu—so handsome, so pretty, so so sweet—dripping your blood on the dress you wore just for him. he’d lean back in towards you, gripping your waist, sinking fangs into you to tell you that you’re his, but there’s a falter in the way he fumbles with you. there’s a grip on your arm—what?

“y/n!” beomgyu isn’t speaking any longer (didn’t you invite him in?), what have you done? you…you don’t know, he doesn’t seem too happy. there are tears, he can’t hold you any longer—what have you done? “y/n! look—look at me!” what have you done?

the red doesn’t seem to return—you cannot find his lips anymore. yeonjun’s yanking your arm again, and you’re locked too deep in his embrace. he’s shouting—why is he shouting? what have you done? where is he? where … where is he? “where…?”

there’s a certain way the daze of it all gets your brain functioning, yeonjun knows this, he shouldn’t have let you walk away. it always ends up like this. the skirt you’re wearing is ripped now, in this secret room of no one, but he’s got you. he’s got you now, and you won’t let go. you won’t let go.

you won’t … let go.

[storm-angel989]

Outside The Office Part Twenty Eight

Hi all!

Take a peek at part twenty eight- enjoy and as always, feedback is welcome!

“I told you to stay away from her!” 

The anger in Valentino’s voice startled me awake. I shifted under a blanket that wasn’t there before and I tried to raise my arm to wipe the sleepiness away. I felt like I had been asleep for hours, and my entire body ached. I sat up slowly and looked around the room. The curtain was pushed back, and I watched as Valentino took a step towards the nurse. I didn’t need to see the absolute fury written on his face- his tone was more than enough.

“I told you I would be back, I told you to call me when she woke up and you not only ignored my orders, you ignored them because you fucking felt like it,” he snarled.

Red wings exploded from his back as he stepped closer to the nurse. I froze and watched in a mix of fear and fascination. I knew the Vee’s kept parts of them hidden, the darker parts, the parts that defined them as demons. But I never expected Valentino  to have wings hidden, well, like mine were. 

Come to think of it, I hadn’t taken my wings out since my arrival in hell. Or thought about them really. They were a part of me, but a part I kept hidden. And when I looked to Valentino’s 

 blood red, moth-like wings, I wondered if our reasons for tucking them away were similar. 

My thoughts were interrupted as Valentino stepped closer to the nurse and lifted her by the front of her too short dress. 

“Not only did you directly violate my orders, you violated my consent clause. And for that, our deal is done,” he continued. 

“I- I didn’t-” she began to plead. 

Valentino wasn’t having it. “You know damn well giving a patient, one entrusted in your care, drugs without medical cause or patient permission is a violation of consent.” His voice dropped to something darker, more dangerous. 

Above her head, a contract, similar to the one that appeared when I signed a soul on. I watched as it tore in half and Valentino’s gun came out. I knew better than to interfere this time.

A single shot. A smoking gun. A scream and the vanishing of her form. As if she had never existed.

Valentino turned around and I saw him for the first time in his full overlord form. Bright red wings spread out. White fluff around his neck, dotted with small black hearts. Sharp red teeth. And an expression that contained nothing but soulless rage. 

Behind his heart shaped glasses, our eyes met. Realization struck. In a moment, his form changed back to the Valentino I knew.

“Princessa, how much of that did you see?” He asked in what I assumed to be him attempting to be soothing.

“A-all of it.” I replied shakily. “What happened?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure I would want him to come closer. I reached my arms out to him and he came right to my side and took my hand in his. 

“She gave you something- something to make you sleep. I trusted her to watch over you while I handled an issue, and, instead of notifying me when you woke up, she decided to keep you asleep. And then said things to me that don’t bear repeating, mi amore. So I made an example out of her to the rest of my staff. Just in case I haven’t made my position clear enough.” He pressed the palm of his hand to my forehead and studied me. “How do you feel, mi amore?”

“You have wings,” I said slowly. 

He let go of my hand. “I do. I’m sorry- I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, my love. I promise, I will never give you that anger- that rage, that power that you just witnessed.”

I studied him. For the first time in a long time, Valentino looked uneasy. And if I didn’t know Valentino as well as I did, I would even suggest he looked uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, Valentino- those two words didn’t belong in the same sentence. 

“I have them too, you know.” I began as I searched for the words that would show him I was comfortable with him. That I trusted him. That I wasn’t afraid of what I had seen.  “Wings, I mean.Haven’t thought much of them since, well, since I got down here. We really only used them in battle, otherwise they’re a liability. Easy to tell I’m an angel if my wings are out, right?” I knew I was beginning to ramble. “Can you control that side of you? Do you control when they come out, how much of you changes in your…other form?”

“I control it all,” he answered slowly. “Princessa, I-”

“I want to see it again. That side of you. Even- even just your wings.” I interrupted. “Show me. Please? I know- I know you won’t hurt me.” 

He gave me a wary look but sighed. “As you wish.”

He took a step back and his wings sprang forth from his back, casting a dark shadow over where I sat. He watched me carefully, waiting for my reaction. 

“They’re…beautiful..” I breathed. “Do they feel pain? Are they sensitive? Are they flexible?”

If he seemed uneasy before, my line of questions definitely caught him off guard. 

“Yes, yes, and yes?” He answered. “I mean, I wouldn’t appreciate them being yanked on, but I also…I also don’t think it would hurt me if you touched them.” 

“Can I?” I asked. “Touch them, I mean.”

I waited for him to nod before I reached out and ran my fingers over just the edges. They felt silky smooth, soft and rigid all at the same time. Much, much different than the sharp feathers that made up mine.

“Mine are different. Really different.  I’ll show you someday, I don’t think…I mean, I think I’m too tired to call them forward. That happens sometimes.” I said softly as I began to trace the bright heart shaped pattern. “Hearts for love?”

“You’re not sacred, Princessa?” He asked softly. “You’re not terrified by what you just saw? By what I just looked like- by what I just did?”

“No. You would never hurt me,” I replied carefully as I leaned my body forward to move my hands down his wings. “You’ve proven that, more so today than ever before. I trust you, Val.”

His expression softened. “Princessa.” He took another step forward. “To answer your question, yes- hearts for love.” 

 I ran my hands down to the base of his wings. To love someone meant to love every part of them- good, the bad. The beautiful.The ugly. He loved me enough to want to care for me, even when I made shitty decisions. He loved me, despite my scars, my emotions, my fears. He embraced every part of who I was- and I wanted to do the same. I tried to sit up, the wave of exhaustion flowed through me. 

I saw his wings begin to retract as he came closer. 

“No, Val.” I pleaded. “Keep them out.”

He balked. “Princessa, I want to hold you. I don’t want…”

“Does it cause you pain to sit with them out?”

“No, they don’t feel pain.” He answered softly.

“Then hold me. Don’t hide them away…”

He shook his head. “Let me get you upstairs, mi amore. Then if you so badly want to explore this side of me, I will allow you to. But right now, I want you out of my studio and into our bedroom.” His wings vanished from sight. “Can you agree to that, princessa?” 

I absolutely could.

[artificialqueens]

Waking Up in Vegas (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Athena2

Summary: Anetra wakes up in Vegas married to a beautiful stranger, and they try to piece together what happened the night before.

A/N: I’m so happy to finish this one, especially because I have a ton of works in progress at the moment. Thank you so much to Writ for encouraging me to do this, and for your amazing beta skills. Please leave feedback if you like, I really appreciate it!!!

Anetra wakes to something tickling her nose, and a blinding light shining in her face. She forces her eyes open and realizes the light is the sun, which is pouring through the window. Her head throbs like someone is hammering nails into it. Her chin is sore too, for some reason. She gently works along it and meets what she’s sure is a bruise on the right. She’s still dressed, even down to her boots. But no phone, and the only card on her is for the casino arcade.

What the hell happened?

As she keeps blinking and her senses slowly restore themselves, she makes the first discovery: there’s a woman in the hotel bed with her. She’s beautiful, from the side of her face that Anetra can see—even with mascara smeared under her eye—with thick brown waves tumbling over the pillow. That must have been what was tickling Anetra’s nose.

Red blackjack chips are scattered over the bed like rose petals, and a stuffed elephant sits at the foot of it. More confusion, and the glaring sun is doing nothing to help her focus. She’s almost positive she had closed the curtain in her room before she went out last night. Come to think of it, she’s almost positive her room wasn’t this high up, either; she can glimpse blue sky and the roofs of other hotels from her position. The second discovery occurs to her: this isn’t her room. It must be the sleeping woman’s.

Only after slowly removing her arm from the woman’s waist does she make the third discovery: a gold wedding band on her left hand, which certainly wasn’t there the day before.

She went back to Vegas and woke up married.

Anetra sits up and swears.

—-

Her head races with questions, her heart speeding along with them. Anetra danced in a club here for three years before she left, and has seen her share of chaos, from bachelor parties to fights. She used to stay away from all that mess—she showed up, did her job, kept her head down. Now she’s on the other side, and it’s like she fell over the wrong side of a fence, into a yard of dangerous dogs.

Despite seeing couples that got married in the chapel here, she doesn’t know much about how the process works. How legit is this? Loosey runs the chapel, and she has a marriage license, so it must be legit. But maybe she just has a ring on for the hell of it, and no actual wedding took place. The woman’s left hand is under her pillow, so maybe her ring finger is bare, and this isn’t what it looks like.

But if it is what it looks like, what does she do? Can this woman sue her or something? Does she need a lawyer for this? Maybe Anetra should just run away, pretend the whole thing never happened, and the woman will do the same.

She’s just planning to run for it when the woman stirs, and Anetra freezes. The woman rises from the pillow with a groan, and turns around when she must sense Anetra there. Her eyes are a bright hazel, and they distract Anetra for a second.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman demands.

“I’m—“

“What did you do? Did you drug me or something?” She stumbles out of the bed and grabs the first thing she sees, which is the alarm clock. As she raises it, Anetra finally sees a matching ring on her finger. So this really did happen, then.

Anetra holds her hands up in surrender. “No! I would never do that, I swear,” she says firmly. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

The woman calms down a little—she puts the clock back, at least. “Sorry. I have to be…more careful about things than most people.”

Anetra’s eyes go to the elephant, pink with blue and white polka dots. She vaguely remembers the woman picking that one because of the trans flag.

“I’m sorry,” Anetra says. “Sorry you have to…deal with that. But I wouldn’t do anything like that. I promise.”

“I trust you.” The woman nods, smoothing out her rumpled purple dress. “Okay, what do you remember? Anything at all.”

“I’m Anetra. I used to work here, so I came to stay and visit my friends for a few days.” She pauses, trying to break through the fog and headache. “I know I was at the poker table last night, and I’m pretty sure you were there.”

“I was there, I remember you.” Her eyes flicker up to Anetra’s, probably to her scar. “I remember your eyes. They were really prett—um, brown. I’m Sasha, by the way. I’m here for the week.”

Anetra nods.

“And then you asked me to get a drink,” Sasha continues, trying to gloss over her slip about Anetra’s eyes.

“Right. And then we got the drink, and then sometime after that we must have won at blackjack”—she points to the chips strewn across the bed—“gone to the arcade”—she points at the stuffed elephant—“got in a fight?”—she gently prods her chin—“and then got married and came to your room.”

Sasha nods along with it all, but stops when Anetra mentions the room. “Except this isn’t my room.”

“Are you sure?” Anetra asks weakly.

“Yes, I’m sure! Look out the window, we’re a mile in the air! This definitely isn’t mine.”

“Because you don’t like heights,” Anetra says. She’s not sure where it’s coming from, but it feels right. “I think you told me last night.”

“I think I did too.” Sasha smiles, but it quickly fades. “But if this isn’t my room, and it’s not your room, then whose is it?”

Anetra runs a hand over her face. “Shit, do you think we broke into someone’s room?”

“Oh my god, now I’m a criminal. I wasn’t a criminal until I married you!”

“I don’t even know you!” Anetra shoots back.

Sasha takes a deep breath and straightens up. Even with her wrinkled clothes and messy hair, something about her makes Anetra snap to attention, ready to listen. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. I still have my room key. Let’s go there, eat something, take a fucking bottle of Tylenol, and go to the bar and see if anyone there knows anything. Try to retrace our steps.”

“That’s…a good idea.”

“I usually have good ideas.” She grins. “We’ll see how last night ranks after we investigate.”

Anetra smiles too, and she can’t help but feel that she picked a pretty good person to drunkenly marry.

—-

“Does the elevator have to be glass?” Sasha mumbles as they step inside. The walls of the elevator are clear glass all around, so you can see the glittering casino floor below, as golden and bright as the sun. Sasha stands backward, facing the door of the elevator.

Anetra steps in front of her. She wants to help, make this mess a little easier, but she isn’t sure how. “Uh, we can talk if you want. Then you don’t have to look down or think about it.”

Sasha’s eyes rise to meet hers. Anetra usually shies away from eye contact, and lets her gaze drift a little—to the curve of Sasha’s shoulder, the crease of a pillow on her cheek—before hesitantly returning to her eyes, taking in the hints of gold like treasure coins. Looking into those eyes, she wants to know about Sasha, wants to re-experience what drew them together that night.

“You said you worked here?” Sasha asks finally.

“Yeah, for three years. I danced in one of the clubs. It was good, I liked it, but after that long without much of a break I think I just…burned out.” The late nights and lack of sleep and body aches just piled up, until even the Tylenol she bought in bulk didn’t help much. On top of the meaner, more demanding clients, it just became too much. Eventually she couldn’t do it anymore, and even if it hurt to leave her friends, it was what she had to do.

“That makes sense.” Sasha nods. “And what do you do now? Sorry if you told me last night, I don’t remember.”

Anetra grins. “I don’t remember either, if I did. But I’m a mechanic.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s totally different from what I did, but it lets me work with my hands and have some quiet. I still dance a lot, though.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,“ Sasha says, genuine in a way Anetra doesn’t hear much.

“What do you do? Anetra asks.

“I work in fashion, in LA.”

“Yeah, I believe that.” Sasha could be a model if she wanted. Anetra can barely keep her eyes off her.

Sasha grins, and by the time the elevator dings, she’s calm. “Thank you,” she whispers on her way out the door.

“Of course.”

—-

After an hour, two Tylenol each, enough late afternoon breakfast for four people, and some time in the bathroom, Anetra emerges from Sasha’s room feeling like a human again. She’s still in her jeans and leather jacket, but Sasha loaned her a T-shirt after they reached for the hot sauce for their hash browns at the same time, and Anetra spilled it on her tank top.

They stride across the red-and-gold checkered carpet, past rows and rows of gleaming slot machines. Anetra doesn’t miss the long hours, doesn’t miss the pain and never-ending fatigue and sleazy customers. But she does miss how alive the place feels, in the middle of the day or in the middle of the night. The clinking of poker chips, the ringing of the slot machines, the spinning of the roulette wheel. A symphony of life unfolding beneath all the glitter, an energy bursting through the air.

It’s hard not to feel good with Sasha at her side. Like she was meant to be there, her stride in time with Anetra’s as they reach the bar where Salina works.

Salina waves frantically, and sighs in relief when they sit down. “Oh my god, I’m glad you’re alive. I was so worried.”

“Do you know something about last night?” Anetra asks. “Because Sasha and I don’t really remember anything.”

Salina nods. “I know part of it. You told me you were on a date so I gave you that new drink we were trying, but Amethyst made it wrong and loaded the damn thing with twice the tequila it should have had. It was basically blackout juice. That’s probably why you don’t remember much.”

Anetra turns to Sasha. “Well, that explains most of it.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “That’s the last time I try a new drink.”

Anetra grins and turns back to Salina. “Do you know where we went from here?”

“The arcade,” Salina answers. “You wanted to win her a prize on that stupid punching game you always played to try and make girls notice how strong you are.”

“You didn’t need to share all those details, but thanks,” Anetra mumbles, while Sasha hides a laugh behind her hand. Her laugh is so warm and rich that Anetra almost doesn’t mind that it’s at her expense.

“Of course—wait a minute.” Salina’s eyes finally go to the ring on Anetra’s finger, and her neck nearly snaps as she turns to search for the same on Sasha’s. “What is this? What happened? Anetra! Your first time back here and you get married to some beautiful stranger?”

“Later,” Anetra says. “We’re on a mission right now.” She leads Sasha to the arcade, both of them laughing as Salina’s yelling echoes down the hall.

The arcade covers nearly an entire floor of the casino, with air hockey tables and racing games and claw machines and any other game you can think of, glowing and waiting for play.

Tucked into the corner, away from people and not as flashy as the others, is Anetra’s game of choice: a simple black stall with a punching bag the size of a boxing glove hanging from the top.

“I’ve never played one of these. How does it work?”

“Well, they’re rigged, but here’s how you do it. You want to hit the center of the bag, and you want to push through. In taekwondo, you’re supposed to imagine hitting something past the target, so your hit lands with all the force.”

“Can you show me?” Sasha asks, a hint of a smile on her face.

Anetra doesn’t even dare to breathe as she presses her chest to Sasha’s back, her hair once again tickling Anetra’s nose. She gently rests her hand under Sasha’s wrist. Her skin is soft and smooth, and Anetra can’t help but wonder if they had held hands last night, lost somewhere in the drunken memories.

“Okay. Bring your fist up to your shoulder height. Bend your elbow. Take a step with your left foot, and then carry your right one over with you when you punch.”

Sasha nods.

“We’ll do the first one together. One, two, three…” It’s hard to do with two people, but Anetra guides Sasha’s fist to the bag with a satisfying smack. Sasha races to reset herself and quickly throws the last two punches on her own, and Anetra pretends she’s just admiring Sasha’s form, rather than the curves of her arms or the way her hair whips around.

“Holy shit! That was fun!” Sasha breaks into the biggest grin Anetra’s seen from her, her tongue sticking out quickly, and it makes her heart skip a beat.

“And it’s useful. If you ever need to throw a punch, just do it the same way.”

“Good to know.” Sasha looks up shyly. “Can I watch you do it by yourself? You must be really good if you got enough points to win me an elephant. I don’t think I got enough to even win a whistle.”

“You’re in the sticker territory,” Anetra teases. “I’ll show you.” She shakes out her shoulders, trying to get rid of the nerves from a sudden audience—an audience of an extremely beautiful woman who happens by one small detail to be her wife.

Anetra squares up, centers herself, and delivers three quick punches, each one making the machine ring with the jackpot score. Sasha claps and cheers, and heat burns through Anetra. She could stay here all day, but there’s more to their investigation.

—-

Anetra lays her hands on the green velvet of Jax’s blackjack table. Sasha had suggested coming here next, figuring that after winning at the arcade, they probably felt lucky and decided to try their luck at blackjack.

“Yeah, you played a few rounds around ten last night,” Jax confirms. “With this woman who I’m assuming was your date?” They look at Sasha in question.

“Sasha,” Sasha introduces herself.

Jax nods. “Right. Well, you got twenty-one in the second round. Then you won two more times in a row, and I was wondering if I needed to get suspicious. Then Amethyst brought you more drinks because you liked them the first time.”

“Shit, I can’t believe we had more of that,” Sasha says, rolling her eyes and exchanging a hesitant smile with Anetra.

“Anetra drank half and then spilled the rest on the guy next to her,” Jax finishes.

“Did he punch me?” Anetra asks, pointing to her bruise.

“What? No. He was annoyed, but he was pretty drunk too.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you sound like you wanted to get punched?” Jax asks, then moves on. “No, you said you were gonna throw up and grabbed your chips and ran.”

“Oh,” Anetra says again, her vision of a thrilling fight at the blackjack table torn from her mind.

“So, did you throw up?” Jax asks with a little too much interest.

“Don’t remember. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Do you know where we went after this?” Sasha asks Jax, saving the conversation from any further mentions of throwing up.

“Nope.”

Anetra sighs, but turns to Sasha hopefully. “Our mission continues.”

Sasha grins. “Yes it does, Agent Anetra.”

“I like that,” Anetra says quietly, heat clinging to her cheeks. In her black leather jacket, with Sasha in a gold dress that flows around her when she walks, they make great partners in crime, runaway agents in a spy movie.

“Can your mission continue away from my blackjack table?” Jax demands, and they run.

—–

Anetra leads Sasha through the gold slot machines, past rows of people pressing buttons and hoping for a jackpot. The machines are different in each section, with different themes and prize levels, but Anetra doesn’t think they’ll reveal much.

“Maybe we—”

“Anetra?” A voice calls. “Get over here.”

Anetra looks up to see Luxx, looking at her frantically. Luxx and Mistress run one of the more popular clubs in the casino, a glittering hideaway of its own little world, replacing the sound of gambling with music and dancing across a disco-lit floor. It was just as popular for its club scene as it was for its hidden inside diner, accessed through a mirrored hallway. Anetra spent almost every night there after her shows, eating and gratefully accepting the bags of ice Luxx brought for her knees, in exchange for listening to Luxx ramble about work.

Anetra and Sasha cross the casino hallway into the club, which is just getting ready for tonight. Normal lights are on, revealing plain tables stained from various drinks and sticky floors, all the night’s glamor and intrigue missing.

“I have your shit,” Luxx says, dumping a mini-backpack with a phone, credit card, roulette chips, and a room key into Anetra’s hands.

Her phone is dead, and of no help, but just having it makes Anetra feel normal again, like some of the world is returning to normalcy. “How do you have all this stuff?”

“Because you came here to dance and eat chicken tenders after playing roulette, and you left all that as payment. You disappeared before I could give it back.”

“Oh.” Anetra sheepishly slings the bag on her back. “I was pretty drunk.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t really even know your date’s name, it was just a bunch of s sounds.”

Sasha groans and rubs a hand over her face. “I’m Sasha.”

Luxx nods. “Good to officially meet you.”

“Did we do anything important while we were here?” Anetra asks.

“Oh, definitely.” Luxx breaks into a huge, possibly evil grin. “You two danced for a while. It was super hot, not gonna lie. Felt like a damn music video. Sasha whipped her hair around so fast I almost got whiplash…” They trail off, then regain their thought. “Then you went to the diner part. You ate chicken tenders and stared at each other like starving puppies. You talked for like two hours. I’ve never seen you so far gone for someone, Netra. Sasha even wiped hot sauce off your cheek at one point.”

Anetra tears her eyes away from Sasha. She doesn’t know if the embarrassment is from how hard she fell for Sasha, in love and ready to marry her after a few drinks and a few hours in her presence, or if it’s from not being able to remember any of it. She wishes she knew what they talked about, how much of themselves they had shared last night. She wants to know all of Sasha’s favorite things, what her life is like, what music she listens to. She wants all of those pieces, and after last night, she’s probably missed out on her chance. Playing secret agent in a casino has been fun, but after things are settled, they’ll probably both go their separate ways. Why on earth would Sasha stay in contact with some stranger she drunkenly married? Did any of what they felt last night really mean anything, especially if they don’t remember? Probably not, and any pieces of Sasha that Anetra had last night have slipped through her hands.

“Do you know where we went after this?” Sasha asks Luxx. She looks oddly wistful, almost like she was lost in thought too.

Luxx’s eyes light up brighter than the disco ball on the dance floor. “Well, that’s the best part. You didn’t let me get to it.” They pause, drawing it out as long as possible, until Anetra huffs. “You must have fallen deep over those chicken tenders, because you went to Loosey’s chapel.”

It makes Anetra’s heart skip a beat. This is it, then. The end is in sight. They’ll go to the chapel, see if Loosey can tell them anything besides you were drunk and got married, and then it’s done.

“I guess we’re heading to the chapel,” Sasha says softly.

“Yeah.”

—-

“You were drunk and got married,” Loosey says, her no-nonsense tone at odds with the sparkly pink walls of the chapel. The baby blue pews somehow look menacing, their empty seats staring at Anetra. “That’s about all I can tell you. Oh, I did bring you to a room.” She nods at Anetra. “You didn’t have your room key, and I wasn’t about to search your wife—Sasha, I think?—for hers. I thought it was easier to bring you to an empty one. I basically carried both of you, so you’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Anetra says, and she means it. She wishes she didn’t act like a drunk idiot, but things could have gone worse if Loosey didn’t get them somewhere safe.

“I do have a phone that one of you left here. And a credit card with Sasha’s name on it.”

“The phone is mine too,” Sasha says, taking both from Loosey. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Loosey pauses, biting her lip, then turning to them earnestly. “I can tell you—I’ve done a lot of these weddings. Most of them are disasters and I know they won’t last ten minutes. But you two. I don’t know. You looked right together. You looked like you meant the vows and the kiss.” She shrugs a second later. “But you were drunk, what the hell do I know? Maybe I’m just in a less cynical mood today.”

With that, she directs them out of the chapel and into the casino hall, where the shouts and yells and rings crash into them.

“Can I show you something?” Anetra asks. She doesn’t want things to end yet, doesn’t want to have the conversation they need to have.

Sasha nods, and Anetra leads her down to the fourth floor service elevator. For all the glitter and gold and glamor, this was always her favorite spot in the casino. It’s only a cramped bench near the elevator, but it overlaps just enough with the fifth-floor aquarium that you can look up and see the bottom of the glass tank that the turtles swim around in.

“I love this.” Sasha’s eyes shine in awe, and it makes Anetra want to marry her all over again.

“No one knows about this spot except the workers. I used to come here when I wanted a little quiet.”

Sasha sighs. “I guess we solved our mystery of last night.”

“The only thing we didn’t figure out is how I got this bruise.” Anetra presses it while she thinks.

But Sasha has a hesitant smile on her face. “Oh, um, I remember what happened. I didn’t want to tell you, because I figured you were picturing some big heroic fight.”

“I wasn’t,” Anetra insists weakly, though her head still plays the scene of her punching the guy who fought her after she spilled her drink, or defending Sasha from a jealous blackjack player, or even an epic battle where she single-handedly took down a bunch of pit bosses who were watching their wins too closely.

“Sure.” Sasha’s smile is too knowing. “Anyway, when you were leaving the blackjack table, you stumbled and walked into a pillar. Kind of anti-climactic, I know.”

“Are you sure?” Anetra asks, a sly smile spreading across her face. “Maybe some other secret agents were after us, and we had to flee across the casino, and I took them down with nothing but my fists and some blackjack chips.”

Sasha’s smile widens. “Maybe that is what happened. But I helped you take them down too.”

“You absolutely did.”

They slip into silence, and Anetra could stay like this all day. Sasha at her side, the turtles passing overhead. The day wouldn’t have to end. They wouldn’t have to decide what to do about these rings. She wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Sasha and wonder what could have been if they just had a normal night.

Sasha finally speaks. “So, I think I’ve decided whether this was a good idea or a bad one.”

“Worst idea of your life, I’m guessing?”

Sasha laughs. “Oh, this was nowhere near the worst idea of my life. No, this was—somewhere in the middle. And I might not remember last night, but today was actually really fun.” The joking tone is gone, and she looks at Anetra like she means it.

“Yeah, it was.”

“I—I like hanging out with you. I like you.” Sasha tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, looking up at Anetra hesitantly.

“I like you too,” Anetra says. If today was a date of sorts, it’s one of the best she’s ever had. She loves Sasha’s laugh, and how well she bounces off what Anetra says. She loves her hair and her eyes and the way she sticks her tongue out when she’s excited. “I wish I remembered kissing you,” Anetra says before she can stop herself. “You deserve better than some drunk wedding kiss.”

“You deserve better too,” Sasha breathes, and then she’s leaning in. Anetra’s heart leaps when Sasha’s lips meet hers, soft and warm and sweet. It’s the kiss they should have had last night, the kiss they deserve to have, with Sasha’s arms on her back and Anetra’s hands resting on Sasha’s waist, feeling her warmth and having it grow in her own chest. Anetra doesn’t want to let go, because she knows this is their farewell kiss, but she forces herself to.

Anetra takes her hands off Sasha’s sides and steels herself. Maybe if she starts the goodbye, it won’t hurt so bad. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “So, I guess we—”

“I’m really hungry,” Sasha cuts her off. “Are you hungry? I think we should go to dinner and have a real date. One we can remember.” She stands up, offering her hand to Anetra, the wedding ring glinting in the light.

“Do you…are you sure?” Anetra just blinks at her, worried that Sasha will disappear if she looks away, or will change her mind.

“I’m sure.” She takes a breath. “Look, we can worry about these rings and that marriage certificate after. I just know that I like you, and I want to spend this week with you before we do that.”

“I’d love that.” Anetra slips her hand into Sasha’s, and lets Sasha lead her into the casino.

[i-love-an-alcoholic]

Story of M: Where I am now and how I got here, Part 3

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of SH

Before I continue I got to say some things. When I first got in trouble at my job I was referred to a mental health clinic and was assessed for various conditions that could explain my problems (my employer did not suspect drugs for some reason). I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and was assigned a dedicated mental health nurse, K, who was an absolute angel. After my wake up call I confided to K about my drug use, and she literally walked with me to get specialized counseling. I'm not exaggerating when I say I owe her my life.

I had also started drawing again a couple of months prior and got positive feedback from my friends. Drawing became a major outlet during these difficult times.

On with the story…

The first month, which was october, was the worst. I had strong cravings, got 2-3 hours of sleep at night and was painfully aware of the fact that this was all my own doing. I was a nervous wreck. I went to work as usual (I was too ashamed to go on sick leave, felt like I didn't deserve it), but as soon as I got home and was alone with my thoughts… I don't have words for the absolute horror, guilt and shame I felt. I closed the blindfolds, turned off all the lights save for a small table lamp, played The Binding of Isaac for hours and even went to the bathroom in the dark because I couldn't bear to see myself in the mirror. Autumn was turning into winter so it got dark early, which I found oddly comforting as I was hiding in my small apartment. I dreaded going to sleep, knowing I would toss and turn for hours, only to wake up in the morning to live the same hell for another day. Sometimes I harmed myself. After telling K about my struggles she arranged an appointment with a psychiatrist, who got my meds in order. I refused any medications with potential for misuse and the doctor respected my wishes. After that I could sleep again.

The cravings persisted for a long time. After the first month I took a risky chance and did something I'm not yet comfortable sharing because it's a controversial topic and I don't want to give anyone ideas. After that the cravings were completely gone. I was still a nervous wreck, but at least I didn't feel the constant urge to snort chemicals.

Christmas came. I had gotten a little journal as a christmas gift for myself and began journaling my thoughts. I also met S for the first time. We exchanged numbers and began talking semi-regularly.

After New Year I was transferred back to my old department at my job, with a much better atmosphere. I was happy about it, although I was withdrawn and anxious because of my ongoing struggles. My daily life was pretty much the same with little to no signs of improvement. My journal, which was meant for light-hearted fun, is filled with despair and self-destructive thoughts. In spring I finally called things off with Shitty Boyfriend. From my perspective our relationship had died a long ago, but he thought differently and did not take this well at all. I practically lost my entire circle of friends because of him.

By summer I felt a little better, likely because I'm a summer person. I took walks in the nature, ate ice cream and and enjoyed other summer activities, by myself. I began saving money, but did not have a plan for them yet.

In autumn my employer gave news about a possible merger, which made me worry about my job security. That gave me an idea for the money I was saving: I would go back to school and get another degree. The next spring I applied to a school that happened to be in the same town S was living, and when school started we moved in together. We had a rocky start because of his drinking problem, but despite that I enjoyed my new life. School is so much fun when you're an adult.

After getting some distance to my old job I realized it was just too stressful for me. Even though it paid relatively well, in the end it was simply not worth my mental well-being. It felt sad leaving my amazing colleagues behind, but it was something I needed to do. So I got another degree and and soon found a new job.

This is where I am now.

[pandacommander24a]

Neurohelmets operate in a strange place; early fiction gives them more "stuff," but later fiction downplays it. I would counter that the IS and Clans are well past SLDF tech levels on many worlds by the Civil War in many areas.

So, if we are talking DNI, we are talking post-Helm, post-Phoniex, post-Invansion, and post-Reaving, post-Civil War, so making SLDF-equivalent helmets more accessible isn't an impossibility by the timeline we are talking about either clan made or made by one of the other great houses. We had a Star League reunion in there for Operation Bulldog. The IS and Clans by the Republic are well past the SLDF tech levels, which is a plot point.

However, to repeat the fact, anything broadcasted by the helmet will likely be just data, not feel-good times, as pointed out.

Sarna notes that EI can be used as a possible treatment vector for several neural muscular issues. Since it had multiple applications, I would put it in a better realm than just the kills-you control system. But this is a purely moot point; they turn your brain into Swiss cheese in a few years if they don't outright kill your brain moments after use.

However, the cultures of both the Crusading Clans and the Word of Blakes already has a superiority complex looking at the rest of the Sphere. Self-righteousness is a hell of a drug, and with anything feeding that... Sarna does make a note, and naturally can't find it now that I closed the tabs, about altering perceptions and brain chemistry with the DNI system, which is psychoactive; I am too straight edge to tell you what that actually looks like in any fashion, but enhanced "feelings" and sight from your cool mech would be a trip. IE effects are well documented with your clipping from Sanra; logically, if DNI is better than the "high," it is also better.

The Manei Domini are killer cyborg boogymen of the Word of Blake. As you mentioned in a different thread, they are already psychotic cultists that enjoy killing non-believers, so they wouldn't need to create a system for positive feedback. That said, if anyone with the tech and lack of ethics to develop such a bizarre system for mech pilots is in Battletech, it would be the weirdest group of Wobbies.

[i-am-emet]

New developments:

Two of Me confirmed, I talked to him last week. Fortunately, we dress differently, so we should be differentiable enough for our own purposes.

⚡️came back. I'm so happy :') I really cannot express how whole they make me feel. 💖

Either someone new has cropped up or someone is acting strange. What in the hell is this sideblog we suddenly have.

Finally coming to terms with the fact that it's okay to be falling behind given recent happenings, under the cut.

Writing this all out to help solidify for ourselves that it's okay to be getting back on our feet.

Yes, everyone dealt with covid, but the discussion of isolation was triggering us on top of the other stresses.

Lockdown forced us closer to someone who we realized was gaslighting us.

Cousin/close childhood friend killed himself right when we started this school program and we somehow built an association between the two.

Friend dies and family will not discuss why; covid suspected.

Moving stresses to get away from 2.

Adjusting to a new school with a different culture while dealing with #1 did not go over well. This is the first time we ever had to fully withdraw from a class. That combined with things just being generally harder meant a huge hit to our host's confidence which impacted performance and generated a positive feedback loop that we had to break out of.

New housing situation triggered a MASSIVE phobia we rediscovered, to the point of triggering hallucinations once the actual problem started dying down.

Constantly having things break and fighting for repairs in new housing situation, to the point of often not being able to cook or shower. (Yes, we will be moving again.)

Right as we started recovering from 1+3, another cousin (albeit not as close) dies and aunt will not disclose why; drug overdose suspected.

Cost of living issues that everyone is facing in general.

Car problems to the point of having to miss work/class because the choice is to fix the car now or risk it breaking down on the way there.

Possibly some kind of depressive episode on top of/resulting from all of the above happening within the span of a couple of years.

But I think we are finally on the up-swing.

[npcdeath]

fyi to yall in quarantine whos grasp on reality is getting a little slippery: isolation, intense boredom, stress and lack of positive routine are absolutely contributing factors to exacerbating psychosis and psychosis-adjacent disorders, even latent ones. im not saying this to fearmonger im saying it so u can recognise it and take steps to handle it especially if it induces your first ever episode.

some warning signs can include

starting to believe unusual things that you previously did not believe (e.g. living in a simulation / you or others around you not being real / secretly being in hell or dead / otherworldly beings communicating with you somehow / government conspiracies / everyone around you is out to get you and harboring ill intent)

seeing things youre pretty sure arent there (e.g. shadow people, floating lights, stationary objects moving on their own, animals in a house that doesnt have pets)

hearing things (e.g. murmured voices, occasional clear and loud voices, faint music, scratching sounds, any without a source)

feeling a sense of dread or generalised paranoia, a sense that you are being watched or that something terrible is looming on the horizon but you dont know what

having extra trouble putting your thoughts in order and speaking coherently, cannot concentrate, space out to the point of feeling slightly catatonic

those most at risk are anyone with a family history of this vein of mental illness as well as those using certain drugs to get through the tedium of quarantine - if this is you, its best to research whether the substances youre using have documented links to triggering episodes of psychosis in users. weed is included in this, not just psychoactive drugs.

here are some steps you can take to get a handle on the situation if your grasp on reality is slipping like this and you cant access irl mental health resources.

have a routine. this is vitally important - you need structure. set an alarm for a specific time every day, even though you have nowhere to be. give yourself a bedtime. eat 2 meals a day, at least, at regular times.

leave the house. no, i dont mean Go Out, just be outside for a while every day or two. go for a walk if you can. stand outside your house for 15 minutes paying attention to the cars and the birds and the breeze and the clouds if you cant. really observe your surroundings. get sunlight.

on that note - let as much natural light into your house as possible during waking hours. your circadian rhythm needs it.

take up some form of hobby that requires physical engagement - whether thats journaling, drawing, making origami, gardening, cooking. the point of this is to ground yourself in your body and the world around you, have an affect on your surroundings, and stimulate your brain.

dont dwell on your delusions, hallucinations or distressing trains of thought if you can help it. that isnt to say "snap out of it and just dont have symptoms", but rather accept them without either judging them or overindulging in them. observe them as they happen, accept that they happen, and let it go, if you can. you may not be able to control the experiences, but you can control how you react to them, and the best case scenario is not allowing them to overwhelm your thoughts and your days. this is much easier said than done, especially if the experiences are distressing in nature, but the aim is to sever the feedback loop that causes further stress and thus further bad extrasensory experiences.

this is honestly just a basic surface scratch of advice though bc im by no means an expert, just someone w latent psychosis who used to work in the field for a while. there are tons of resources online by others who have experienced psychosis that can be a huge help if u think you might be at risk due to the stress, boredom and uncertainty of quarantine

[pxrxcxa]

Opposite Ends

Chapter Three - A Shock And A Low Roll

C1 | C2 | C4 | C5 | C6 | C7 | C8 | C9 | C10 | C11 | C12 | C13 pt1 | C13 pt 2 |

Chapter Four is out now!, enjoy Sunflowers x 🌻

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+. Steve x Robin x Female reader platonic friendship

Series summary | Dustins older sister got brought into the group during the events of Starcourt mall, 3 months on she's in her senior year and the kids are starting high school. After everything that went down she feels that she has to keep them safe at all costs, that includes keeping them way from the charismatic 'freak' Eddie Munson that runs a club based on their favourite game. They've both hated each other since freshman year -with good reason-, but when keeping distance between the kids and Eddie means putting herself in the firing line, boundaries get blurred, intentions get lost & the heart speaks louder than the brain.

The story is told from both Y/N & Eddies point of view.

What to expect | Slow burn enemies to lovers, Angst - with a happy ending, fluff & smut (in the later chapters). 18+ to read this story.

Series Warnings | Mentions of abuse, drug use, 18+ smut content

Chapter word count | 3.1k word count

Chapter warnings | Mention of drug use & female period.

Any & All comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

Authors Note | As always, if you've read this far down than thank you so much & I hoped you enjoyed it, let me know if you want chapters that include both Y/N & Eddies point of view, I just don't want the chapters to be too long but I've just got so much to write! All feedback is welcome, Take care Sunflower 🌻 P. x

Y/N | October 1985

"Come onnnnn" Dustin yelled from the front door. I had barely slung my bag off my shoulder, exhausted from my after-school shift at the Family Video, watching Steve work his sweaty moves on high school seniors. He swore his charms were irresistible, but I was yet to see it work on any of the air headed bimbos that gathered, giggling in the 'romance' section. My room was still a mess from the whirlwind off chaos I created this morning in my haste to get ready, outfits that didn't make the cut were strewn across my floor and my homework-turned-makeup desk was scattered with expensive skin care products. I dropped my bag onto my futon and flopped onto my unmade bed. 

"Ugh." I groaned as something stabbed into my back, pulling my carelessly discard hairbrush out from under me I tossed it into the abyss that was my bedroom. I flinched as my door was flung open against the wall, scowling in the general direction of the commotion. 

"What the hell are you doing? We're going to be late." Dustin swore. His fuzzy hair spilled out from beneath his cap as he gaped at me, his jaw hanging wide as he took in my comfortable position. 

"Language Dusty!" Our mother called in distance, banging and clanging pots around as she prepared a burnt- but loved filled - dinner. I made a mental note to pick up something from the store later to avoid the inevitable food poisoning guaranteed if I attended another family meal. We normally ate on our own when we wanted. Given all of our conflicting schedules, shared meals usually consisted of rushed greetings in the hallway with half eaten pieces of toast shoved in our mouths. But now and again mom would read a self-help book for single mothers and insist we act as a normal, functioning family for a night. 

"Water skiing, clearly." I retorted, he sighed at my obvious sarcasm and chucked my windbreaker, that was draped over my chair, at me. 

"Get dressed you useless thing, we're going to be late. 5 minuets or I'm driving your car. Or worse, I'll get Max to drive." I flinched at the memory of our near-death experience as Mad Max showed us why she deserved that name, I swear Steve still got flashbacks. 

"Late for what?" I feigned innocently as I untied my shoelaces, half hoping he'd changed his mind about Hellfire and Eddie. 

"5 minuets!" He screeched, slamming the door shut behind him. The photos that adorned my walls, baring the evidence of my tedious childhood, rattled as the bedroom door slowed to a standstill. 

I pegged my sneaker at the quickly closed door, knocking off the battered calendar that hung there. I groaned as I rolled off my bed, facing the unescapable. It was bad enough that I had to endure Eddie during school hours, in a place that I legally had to be, let alone voluntarily subjecting myself to his presence. But it was either I left Dustin, Lucas and Mike alone to face the bad-influence-guaranteed-to-corrupt-freshman’s that was Edward Munson or be the pillar of stubbornness that ensured tonight was about DnD and only about DnD. 

While I was sure that Eddie wouldn’t be able to let it slip to Dustin what I got up to in my recreational time while I was around, I didn’t put it past him to try after what he pulled at school today, but I figured if he opened his mouth, I could shove something in it before he went too far. The fact my motives were entirely selfish based wasn’t lost on me, but I was also genuinely looking out for Dustin and his friends. It wasn’t below Eddie to sell to freshmen. I had walked past far too many 14-year-olds puking into the unfortunate rose bushes that adorned the south wall of administration building at school, after smoking more weed than what they were used to, which was none. Eddie was single handedly responsible for all of Hawkins Highs students’ marijuana addiction in his six years of high school, well, apart from mine maybe. But one Henderson with a drug dependence was enough.

The reminder made me scowl as I ripped my uniform off over my head, if I wanted my own habit to continue, I was going to have to endure even more of his presence. I flipped through the roster of my acquaintances in my head, trying to imagine if any of them could hook me up. Doubtful, Eddie had cornered the drug market in Hawkins. I could probably rope Steve into going to Eddie for me, he was no stranger to the scene, we had smoked up plenty of times together at one of his famous parties back when he was king of Hawkins High, and I was another air headed cheerleader – before we were actually friends, ironically enough. But he would probably get suspicious if he was picking up for me once a week and rat me out to the rest of the gang. I had barely escaped Robin’s and Max’s suspicious line of questioning after Eddie’s outburst. I had shrugged them off and said I had no clue what he was talking about. Robin had seemed to believe me, that was one of the perks of her being so gullible sometimes, but Max didn’t look convinced one bit. But she had respected me and left me alone after that, trusting that I would talk to her when I wanted to. If I wanted to. 

I examined my body in the full-length mirror leaning against the corner of my room, I had stripped down to my underwear. My fingertips caressed the angry pink scar that stretched across my abdomen along my left hip, I had acquired it the night of the fire. Lost in my own thoughts, my hands began to tremble.  

The sound of my car spluttering to life brought me back to existence. Pulling on the nearest pair of jeans and throwing a sweater over my head, not bothering to see if they matched. “Geez this kids gotta get his ego in check.” I muttered to the empty room, quickly sparking up a leftover joint sitting in the ashtray on my bedside table and puffing it down to the roach. Waving my hands to waft the smoke out the only window in my bedroom, I quickly grabbed my purse from my bookbag and jogged out the door, hastily pulling on sneakers as I stumbled off balance into the hallway. 

“Hey where are you guys off to in such a rush, I’m making dinn-” Mom questioned as I rushed past the kitchen, she held a stirring spoon in one hand and a pan with something blackened in it, in the other. 

“School!” I shouted back, not bothering to mention Hellfire. By the time I stopped and explained, Dustin would have had my car rolling out of the driveway. Her complaints muted as the front door slammed behind me and I sped across our freshly mown lawn. 

“About freaking time.” Dustin whined, already situated in the passenger seat, a book with drawings and notes peeking out of the sides of it, sitting on his lap. Thankfully he had already turned the heat in the car on. I rubbed my hands together and turned the fans down from full force, sliding the car into reverse. 

“You know you could be grateful. Since you’re a highschooler and all, should you really need your sister to chauffeur you around?” I pretended to criticise, looking over my shoulder as I rolled down our angled driveway. 

“If you recall, I had a lift. You just didn’t approve of them.” He seemed to know better than to mention Eddie by name. The sun was well and truly setting now, sending a brilliant streak of orange across the horizon. Beautiful but blinding, I pulled my sun visor down and my eyes flittered up to view the polaroid that was pinned there, a photo of Steve, Robin and I on our first day at Family Video together. Smiling from ear to ear after Robin had convinced Keith to hire Steve to attract more female clientele.

“Dustin to Lucas, come in Lucas. We are T-minus 5 away.” He pushed down on a button on his walkie as it crackled. 

“We’re picking up Lucas?” I asked disbelievingly. I didn’t mind, I cared about everyone in the group like they were my own siblings, but I was just looking for a reason to be mad. 

“Yep! And Mike. Hey!” He cried as my eyebrows creased together, “You wanted to drive, that’s why I told you to hurry up.” Shaking his head at me, pulling some snacks from his backpack. I turned my head to hide my grin, laughing at the fact he clearly had the same idea as me after discovering that mom intended on cooking tonight. 

“Yeah well, you’ll thank me one day when you’re old enough to understand.” I retorted. Old enough to know about everything that happened the night of the fire, and why I battled my demons the way I did. I finished my sentence silently. 

He rolled his eyes at my cryptic wisdom and pulled his walkie back to his mouth to signal Mike of our imminent arrival. 

Fifteen minutes later, or fifteen minutes past seven as Dustin so cynically pointed out, the boys were settled in the backseat of my beat-up Ford Escort chattering excitedly about their plans for the evening. Debating about how good of a dungeon master they thought Eddie was. The sun had well and truly set by the time I pulled into the now almost empty school car park. The interaction with Jason from this morning popped back into my head. Only the cheerleaders bothered showing up for basketball practise, the rest of school -who actually had lives- only attended games. My heart didn't squeeze with longing anymore as I watched Chrissy and a junior I didn't know skip into the gym waving their pompoms above their head, that was a different time in my life, a different version of myself, in another universe that would be me linking arms with Chrissy getting ready to cheer on the team. I thanked my lucky stars it wasn't. I payed attention as I drove into a spot close to the entrance, preparing for a quick getaway if needed. 

“Kay thanks, see you at nine!” Dustin threw my way, quickly sliding out of the car before I even came to a full stop. Mike and Lucas muttered appreciations from the backseat and followed suit. But I killed the engine and jumped out from my side. All three boys froze on the sidewalk and turned to face me. 

“What’re you doing?” Dustin questioned me whilst I pulled my jumped tighter around me, it was unseasonably cold for Autumn and the chilly night air had an unfamiliar bite to it. 

“Coming with you obviously.” The moonlight starting to seep through the clouds reflected off their confused faces.

“B-but girls don’t play DnD.” Stammered Lucas. Mike nodded along vigorously with him.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to break that news to you boys. You really thought I was going to leave you alone with him if I wasn’t going to let him drive you? Also, what am I supposed to do, sit in the car for two hours while you guys get your nerd on? Come on, I’m not going to argue about it out here. I’m freezing.” 

I shouldered through them heading towards the unlocked doors, before giving any of them a chance to dispute me. The darkened hallways were eerily creepy at night, missing its usual sounds of slamming lockers and rushed conversation’s shared between classes, each student shouting over each other, fighting for attention. It reminded me of Hawkins High in the upside down, minus the slimy black tentacles and white particles swirling around of course. I shuddered the thought away and hurried my pace, my feet taking me to my destination before my mind could catch up to where we were going. I started to question myself how and why I knew where Eddie hosted his stupid club when Mikes towering figure slammed into my back after my sudden stop. God that kid had really shot up over the summer. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered, but the boy’s attention was no longer on me. Golden light seeped out from the closed door on our left. Hellfire Club was hosted in the drama/theatre room, as evidenced by the stage lights, curtains and props cluttering the outskirts of the room we cautiously made our way into now. Lit candles adorned practically every surface, throwing dancing shadows across Eddies face. He sat at the head of a dusty table on – what I could only describe as a throne – with a four paged book of some sort propped up right in front of him on the tabletop. The rest of the club lined the walls, watching our arrival like they had been waiting for an eternity. The entire setting was unnerving, sending a shiver up my spine. I debated dragging the kids by the scruffs of their necks back to the car, kicking and screaming aside, when Eddie spoke up. 

“This is Hellfire Club Henderson, not baby-sitting club.” His eyes did not leave his hands as he twisted his rings around. Unsure which Henderson he was referring to, I stepped forward. 

“Good thing I’m not baby-sitting then.” I shot back; his head snapped up at me. His abnormally dark eyes meeting mine with piqued interest. 

“I remember extending an invitation to trialling members only.” One of the boys behind me made a dejected sound, probably at the use of the word ‘trialling’. Undoubtedly Dustin, he had thought their affiliation with the club was a done deal. Eddie stood up quickly, sending his chair toppling backwards, he only ignored it as he made his way over to me. “So pray tell Henderson, what brings you here?” He questioned, cocking his head slightly to the left, his long curls bouncing with the movement. 

Damn, this was his domain. I had no power here, and if I didn’t play nice, he was going to throw me out. I didn’t blame him if he did, after my constant insolence towards him in Calculus over the past four years I would have done the same thing. 

“I uhh-“ His eyes bored unflinchingly into mine, in the back of my mind I took notice that this was the closest I had ever been to Eddie, with his face inches from mine, I could see that his eyes weren’t just so brown that they were practically black, but they had yellow – almost golden – flecks sprinkled throughout his iris’s, probably why they always seemed to catch the light, no matter how dark the room he was standing in was. “I’m here to join Hellfire to.” It was the quickest – albeit lamest – excuse I could come up with that I didn’t think he’d expect, and I was right. A brief flicker of surprise flashed across his face before his carefully contracted mask retook its place. 

He appraised me a minuet, holding two fingers up when Gareth opened his mouth to object. I stared back daringly, willing him to see nothing but truth reflected on my face. After what felt like an eternity, he grinned. Extending a large hand out to me. 

“Welcome to Hellfire.” My stomach knotted at his words, feeling like I was betraying every decision I had planned to stick by tonight.

I couldn’t believe how animated Eddie was, not that I hadn’t seen others have a similar reaction to DnD, I’d spent probably months of my life listening to Dustin and his friends have excited screaming matches over the number on the dice they rolled, while Nancy and I flipped through cheesy magazines on her bed, staring at perfect sun kissed models and comparing them to our own bodies, this was before I had grown closer to Steve of course – and further away from Nancy as a result, it was hard to listen to her rant about her ex-boyfriend when said ex was one of my new best friends.

No, I wasn’t surprised because of DnD, it was because I had never seen Eddie be so passionate about, well anything really. It was a shame the game wasn’t a class in school, I was sure that for the first time Eddie would receive top marks that would rival my own. 

“That’s... a... miss.” He shook with laughter as the group groaned with dismay, it had been a universal decision that I should sit this campaign out so I could watch and learn given I had never played before. And watch I did. The tough-I-don’t-care-about-anything demeanour melted away without him meaning to, in fact I hadn’t realised it was a façade at all until tonight. Bright smiles that spread from ear to ear never once left his face as he tussled his hair and swung his hands about excitedly, his infectious laugh rubbing off on everyone in the room except for me. Just because he wasn’t actually a total jerk that cared about nothing didn’t automatically make him a good guy. He must have felt my eyes locked on his face because he turned to meet my gaze like he suddenly remembered I was there, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks as his guarded mask slid easily back into place. Perhaps he thought I was judging him, which technically I guess I was, I hadn’t been smiling as I stared at him so I could see why it looked that way. I gasped and crossed my legs. 

“Oh.” I panted, Eddies eyebrows disappeared into his bangs as he glared at me curiously, the others slowing turning towards me as well. “We have to go now!” Well that explained the moods swings. 

“What!” Yelled Dustin. “We’re almost to the end!” 

“Yeah! We just need to roll a 20 for a crit hit!” Chimed in Lucas. There wasn’t a worse situation I could imagine myself being trapped in; stuck with Edward Munson at night, no feminine products on me and being the only girl in the room, there was no help coming. Dustin wouldn’t understand what I meant even if I had hit him with a sign that had the words ‘I’ve got my period’ painted on it, it couldn’t have picked a worse time to arrive.

I looked back at Eddie pleadingly, the fact that I faced him with something other than strong loathing in my eyes must have told him something was seriously wrong, even if he hadn’t clued on to the fact that my monthly’s had arrived. He nodded at me. 

“It’s okay, go. I’ll drive them home.” There wasn’t time to argue with his offer, though I did manage a mumbled ‘thanks’ through stubborn lips. Throwing a quick thank you prayer to a God I wasn’t even sure that I believed in, that I had grabbed black jeans and not white to get dressed in this afternoon, as I rushed back to my car, laughing at my quick getaway plan when I remembered where I parked. I fumbled with my keys in the snippy night air, the silver moon now well and truly shining down through the clouds, before sliding into the driver’s seat and pushing my battered Ford as fast as it would go to the nearest gas station.

Chapter Four

I hope you enjoyed the third chapter! If you would like to be added to my Eddie tag list, let me know! :)

Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann

All rights reserved.

[jasntodds]

Caving In [1]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 13,538

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of various injuries including a mention of road rash, bruises, cuts, and a burn, mentions of death, some fluff I suppose, a mention of drug addiction, jason todd is a smartass and so is the reader, reader gets arrested (not long and doesn’t go to the station or anything like that), a mention of the Joker and Two-Face

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: I came out of the gate swinging with a long chapter. But, I have literally been writing this every single day for a month straight and I have never been more excited about posting a series before. I am VERY proud of this series so please lemme know what you guys think!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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You didn’t have what you would consider a horrible childhood. In the grand scheme of things, it could have been a hell of a lot worse. You had a mom who loved you and did her absolute best to provide for you. You rarely ever fought and your mom took care of you. You had a few friends, none that really stuck around when shit hit the fan, but you don’t blame them. So, you had some friends and that was cool while it lasted. Your dad was ad deadbeat addict you only remember seeing once and the way you see it, good riddance. You had your mom.

Had.

However, that was then and this is now where you’re standing on the street, using a car window breaker to break into a car late at night in the middle of Gotham City. Gotham has a habit of breeding some real fucked up psychos. You’re almost positive it has got be the water and it’s only a matter of time before everyone in the city either turns into Batman and Robin or The Joker and The Riddler. The psycho doesn’t care who you are and if you have a family, they take and take and laugh in the face of everyone else’s agony. So, here you are breaking into a car as you’ve done for last few months since the Joker decided to do what he does best. Kill.

Whenever you break into a car, which is almost nightly now, you remember judging those who did before because this is someone else’s property. They probably worked hard for it and who are you to take it from them. But, no one ever said surviving was easy. You get it now, a little guilty about it but not guilty enough to stop.

“Sweet.” You huff to yourself, smile on your face as you find a hundred dollars in the center console. “Idiot.” You mumble as you stuff it in your pocket.

You rummage around the car some more, hoping to find more. If the person was dumb enough to leave a hundred dollars, maybe there’s something you could sell. You push around a few unimportant things like papers and a pair of old shoes, not finding much. With the shrug of a shoulder, you consider this car a win and back out of the car only for the flashing of red and blue to catch your attention from your peripheral.

“Ah, fuck me.” You groan, turning on your heels and sprinting as fast as your legs will let you down a close alleyway.

The sirens sound behind you. There’s still a smile plastered across your face with the lights behind you and your feet smacking puddles. The city lights guide you in and out of other alleys and down side streets. It’s a bit of a thrill. The air is wet on your skin, thick with moisture from the previous storm. The city streets have that smell of wet pavement and fresh rain, something that lives in your bones. Running through the streets of Gotham is a regular activity but you find it fun, adrenaline in your blood and city lights guiding the way.

This is not the first time GCPD has found you breaking into a car but they didn’t catch you then and you don’t think they’ll catch you now. The only one really competent at catching anyone committing a crime is Gotham is Batman and Robin but they don’t normally go after kids robbing cars. It’s not exactly hot radar here.

Your chest heaves with every step but you’re having a blast. The burning almost doesn’t bother you with every stride, lungs feeling like they could collapse at any moment. That’s part of the thrill, how far can you run before they catch you or your lungs explode. Well, normally, but tonight the pavement is a little too slick. You go to run around a corner, shoes slipping on the pavement, sending you right into the pavement.

“Shit!” You scream out, feeling the road rash on your arms and your legs, knowing you ripped your clothes from the fall.

“Hands up.” One of the cops says as they catch up, getting out of his car.

You roll your eyes, racking your brain in hopes you can come up with a big bad escape plan. You do not want to go into the system. “Can’t you see I’m little hurt here, asshole?”

“Looks like that’s on you.” His voice is annoyed. “Get up.”

“Again, I’m hurt.” You pout up at him. “I should really have an ambulance. It’s your fault I fell.”

“How do you figure?” The cop questions, making it evident this is not how what he thought he’d be doing tonight.

“You were chasing me.” You shrug a shoulder, looking at your elbow, grimacing at the sight of blood and gravel in your arm. “I wouldn’t have fallen had you just let me go.”

“You committed a crime. You’re not getting off.”

“I’m a minor living in Gotham City who just broke into a single car. Our courts can’t even keep the fucking Joker behind bars, you think I’ll be put away? Please.” You let out a scoff following by a hollowed laugh.

The one thing you have never learned how to do is hold your tongue. It’s always been a little bit of an issue but ever since your mom died, it’s gotten worse. Who do you have to hold your tongue for? You have no one. At least if the cop arrests you, you’ll have a warm bed to sleep in and probably a meal. Not a good one, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Get up.” The cops sneers, grabbing your arm and yanking you up. “We’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out. Where are your parents?”

“Dad’s somewhere getting high, mom’s in six feet under.” Your voice is nonchalant as you shake your arm free, your knees and arms feeling like they’re vibrating from the pain.

The cop looks down at you with a sigh. Unfortunately, this isn’t an unusual thing for him or any other cop in Gotham to deal with. Kids with parents who are either dead, nonexistent, or not participating in their lives is normal thing here. Far more normal than any other city. You have a smart mouth and you robbed a car but you’re also alone, parentless, and clearly homeless. He doesn’t really want to take you to the station. It’s another kid thrown into the prison system.

“You’re gonna call CPS, right?” You ask from the back of the squad car as the cop drives.

“That is protocol.” He says, glancing to you in the rearview mirror.

“I think that’s a horrible idea.” You scoff, plopping back in your seat, crossing your arms to the best of your ability with the stinging road rash.

“Can’t just let you live on the streets.”

“You could.” You sigh. scrunching your nose.

“Don’t you want a place to live?”

“Yeah, but the system is corrupt. You would know. Why the fuck would I wanna go there? I can take care of myself.”

“You’re in the back of my car and for what? A few bucks?”

“I’ve been doing fine. The pavement’s wet.” You pout. If you had shoes with actual grip, you wouldn’t have fallen.

“Look, I’m sure you’ll be fine, okay?” The cop’s voice is quieter this time, trying his best to be reassuring. “Lots of kids turn out fine.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring him as you watch the city pass by. There’s something in your gut that just knows this is not going to end well for you. Foster care, group homes, it never sounds like it’s going to end well, not for you. Maybe others, sure. Not all foster homes and group homes are bad, but you can feel it in your bones, the shattering of your world consuming you with every passing building. This is going to get really fucking bad.

1 Year Later 

Your eyes peek open, lids heavy and weighed down as your chest heaves. Your face is in agony with an aching pain your right side. Your head is throbbing as you blink your eyes, swearing it feels like you’ve been hit with a sledgehammer. The pavement is cool beneath you as your eyes move up the walls in front of you, a red and worn-away brick. It’s all moving so slowly for you, almost like a YouTube video lagging at 480p. Slow and staggered, taking in one sense at a time as you come to.

You feel someone beside you, their hand is warm on your arm and he comes into focus from the corner of your eye. Your heart rate spikes, the drowsiness vaporizes and the throbbing of your head suddenly makes everything click. Your eyes widen and you grab his forearm with your hand, a burning and stinging sensation makes him yank his hand away.

“Fuck!” He yells, looking at the growing chemical burn on his arm and back to you as you try to scramble to your feet, legs weak and stinging. “Wait!” He yells at you, trying to get you to stay put, processing what’s going on.

You get to your feet, the man following your lead and standing up, holding his arm across his stomach. Your eyes scan him over and look behind him, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head to come up with a clear plan to escape him. You’re not going back to the basement or to the heinous piece of shit who clearly left you here for dead.

“Who are you?” He asks, his voice is stern, jaw squared while he looks to your hands that outstretched in front of you. Your palms are flowing a florescent green aimed right at him.

You shake your head, matching his stare, teeth grinding. There's a firey anger in your eyes, almost telling him to go ahead and try you. You’re in agony, every muscle feels likes it’s being eaten by fire ants and you’re using every bit of strength to square off with him. But you hold that hard stare not willing to move. The pain will have to take a backseat this time.

“Look,” He lowers his voice trying to ignore the stinging pain of his arm. “I found you here. I was making sure you were okay.”

You scoff. “Sure. You just check on random people passed out in an alley?” You’ve lost a bit faith in humanity recently.

“You burn everyone who tries to help you?” He quips.

Your eyes narrow, not playing the game of getting ‘helped’ again. “Bold of you to assume people help.”

He sighs, dropping his head while his hair falls onto his forehead. “I’m Dick.” He picks up his head, stepping forward just one step and you take one back. “You’re hurt.” He gestures to your side where blood is seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

You look down and see the bright red staining the white fabric. Oh, that’s not good. A sense of queasiness comes over you and that’s when you really start taking in what’s happened. Flashes of the day before haunt your eyes, clouding your view of Dick. You slam your eyes shut which just seems to make the memories worse. The throbbing becomes a catastrophic earthquake in your head, begging to crumble everything in its path. Your hands come to your head, trying to get it to stop as the world around you starts to spin.

Dick takes a few steps forward. “Hey, are you okay?” Dick asks, looking down at you but before you can tell Dick to leave you alone, everything falls black, your legs going limp as you pass out, Dick catching you on the way down. “Alright, then.”

He looks you over, taking notice in the several cuts, bruises, and scars you have on your exposed skin. He has no idea what happened to you but he does know one thing, he’s going to find out and he’s gonna find out how you burned him. Dick’s always had a thing for saving kids so he picks you up and decides to take you to the tower. You were terrified, at least he knows you’ll be safe there.

Back at the tower, the elevator doors open and Dick walks through caring you with broken skin. Gar and Rachel are in the living room, their attention pulled back as they hear him come in.

“Hey, what are--” Gar pauses from his seat on the ottoman while Rachel stands up from her seat, eyes wide and confused as Dick comes into view.

“Who is that? What happened?” Rachel asks, her words fast as she walks over to Dick, Gar right behind her.

“I found her.” Dick states, his voice a bit exasperated. “Gar, can you help me?”

“Uh…sure.” Gar nods, knowing it’s because of Dr. Caulder that Dick’s even asking.

“Rachel, go spar with Jason.” Dick says and Rachel shakes her head but does as she’s told while Dick and Gar head off to the infirmary wing.

Dick places you on a bed while Gar stays behind him. This is weird. He knew Dick had a thing for picking up strays, that’s how him and Rachel ended up with Dick. But, it’s very weird being on the other side of that and actually seeing him bring someone home, especially someone who’s as banged up as you are and unconscious no less. It makes Gar pretty uncomfortable.

Dick directs Gar to grab bandages and the saline solution so they can clean some of the blood cuts that are visible to them. Gar does as directed without saying a single word. He just follows Dick’s lead and helps him clean a few cuts on your arms while Dick cleans a gash on your cheek. Whatever happened to you was bad, that’s something that everyone can see clear as day. But, they don’t know how it happened or why and maybe that’s the scariest part about it. Whatever happened, was bad and what if you’re more than a random person from the streets? Or what if you are and someone is hunting you or something? It’s a terrifying thought.

As they finish up, Gar sees Dick start addressing his own wound. He hadn’t noticed it before but now he can see a red burn on his arm. But, when Gar asked Dick about it, Dick brushed it off a bit by just saying you had done it when you came to for a minute. He didn’t seem to be too concerned about it which made Gar more confused by the whole situation. Not only are you just some girl off the streets but you also have powers and have already burned someone. That sounds a bit dangerous but Gar isn’t one to question authority so he goes with it.

They finish up before leaving you alone. Dick and Gar head to the comms lab where Dick gains access to the security cameras where he found you. He’s mostly showing Gar how to do the same, just in case something happens and Gar ever needs to know. Gar is more of the tech guy in the tower anyway. So, Gar watches closely as Dick brings up the city’s security cameras and they find footage of an older car that looks to be in decent condition pulling into the alley. A bald man with a medium build gets out, looking around to see if anyone is around. He walks to the back of the car and opens the door, pulling you out, looking completely lifeless. He dumps you up against a wall before getting back into his car, pulling out of the alley and driving away as if nothing happened.

Dick shakes his head, his jaw clenching and he just cannot understand how people do that to kids. Being a detective and Robin, he saw it a lot, grown adults beating on kids or getting verbally horrible with them, taking them to drug deals. It’s a mess and he cannot understand why adults do that to kids like it’s normal and it’s okay. There will never come a day where it doesn’t send his blood into a rapid boil.

“Do you think he…did that to her?” Gar asks, looking up to Dick with worry in his eyes.

Dick looks at him, seeing the concern embedded in his face. “I’m not sure.” Dick keeps his voice level, looking back at the screen. “But, by the looks of it, yeah or he knows who did.”

“Why would someone do that?” There’s sadness etched in every word. Gar doesn’t like real violence very much. He doesn’t know why anyone results to it unless it’s a dire situation. Similar to Dick, he just doesn’t understand how someone can do that to another person.

“Maybe we’ll get some answers as to what happened when she wakes up.” Dick nods his head, trying not to worry Gar more. “Why don’t you go join the others? I’ll watch the cameras until she wakes up.” The question was more of a request, rather than an actual offer and Gar knows that.

Gar nods his head and leaves, head swimming with the who, what, when, where, and why of the situation. Maybe you’re dangerous and that’s why it happened. You did burn Dick so you at least, have powers. But, maybe there’s more to it. Maybe you tried to defend yourself and it didn’t end in your favor. Gar knows it’ll be picking at the back of his head until they find out more but for now, there’s nothing he can do but listen to Dick and join Rachel and Jason.

You finally come to a few hours later. Your eyes open slowly, seeing a wall with a TV mounted to the wall in front of you, similar to a hospital room. But, it’s aesthetically warmer as you look around. The walls aren’t white and the lights aren’t fluorescent. The bed is definitely more comfortable and so is the blanket. For a split second, you almost forgot about your encounter with Dick and think maybe you really could be safe in a hospital but that second fades.

It comes back like a polaroid printing. Slow and fading the images, dulling the colors as it develops. It’s blotchy, the alley and Dick standing in front of you. A part of you isn’t entirely sure you can picture his face. All you know for certain is that he’s tall with brown hair and then you remember burning him, which wasn’t entirely on purpose. But, that’s it, it’s like it all just stop developing like maybe someone moved the camera right as they clicked the capture button. It just gets blurry and blank so you look around a bit more.

You notice gauze bandages wrapped around the cuts on your arms, an IV sticking out of your hand. You touch your face where there’s a bandage covering the large gash you had and you sit in a state of foggy confusion. Who is that guy and did he bring you here? If so, why? What’s his motive? Everyone has a motive and it’s never just to be kind. No one is ever just that nice. And where is here anyway? The room is big but it’s not a hospital, there isn’t anyone walking the hallway from where you can see. There isn’t a window looking into the room on the wall or on the door. It’s like a standard room so it’s not a hospital.

Dick walks into the room as you’re looking around, you only notice him when you look over and the dread fills your bones. It shouldn’t be too shocking given the amount times you’ve been hurt but you didn’t hear him come in and that sucks. Surely, with the laminate flooring and him wearing shoes, you should have been able to hear his footsteps but you didn’t. You can’t remember if his voice was muffled in the alley or if it was clear and that’s a bit unsettling. But, this has happened before and the hearing always comes back in a few days.

“You’re awake.” Dick says as he walks to the foot of your bed, his voice sounding a little muffled. You just stare at him, not wanting to talk until you know what’s going on. “What’s your name?” He asks and you get that look in your eye like you did in the alley, filled of anger and spite, with the slightest touch of terror. You shake your head slowly, standing your ground on not talking. “Alright,” Dick sighs, putting his hands in his front pockets. “Not talking?” Dick asks and you give him the quick raise of your brows, tilting your head slightly to your right.

It’s not that Dick thought this would be easy. He remembers being taken home by Bruce, how new and scary everything was. He had just witnessed his parents die and then some strange billionaire picks him up, decides to adopt him. It was weird and this is weird. It’s a little different and he doesn’t know your story, but he can understand your hesitance in talking.

“Well,” Dick lets out a breath. “Do you remember what happened?” Dick asks. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just nod your head. The alley?” Dick clarifies and your eyes narrow but you nod your head twice. “Do you remember how you got there?” Dick asks and he sees your eyes fade as if you’re not with him anymore. The heart monitor starts to steadily go up.

You remember everything, the haunting in your bones running your blood cold. You remember everything in vivid detail. He asks that question and you’re right back where you were, right in that room in that chair, in screaming agony. It’s all there, right in the front of your head and you might not be there now but you swear you never escaped.

“Okay,” Dick gets the hint that you do remember but it’s nothing good. “The tower is safe, fully secured if you’re worried about someone coming to get you.” That brings you back and of course you’re worried about that. But what does he know? “No one here is gonna hurt you.” Dick assures you and he can see the slightest bit of relief come your face. “There’s Gar, he came in and helped me clean up your cuts. They’re pretty bad.” Dick explains, getting no reaction. “Rachel, she’s nice, good kid and then there’s Jason, he’s a bit much sometimes but he’s a good kid, too.” You raise a brow at him, as if to be questioning why there are three other teenagers here. “It’s a long story.” Dick states and you give him a long singular nod. “What’s your name?”

You debate it for a minute. If you tell him, he might be able to find who did it and call him to come get you. But, you look to the badges on your arms and you figure he could also just run a blood test of some sort and figure it out. If this is some type of medical center, that’s something he could do. There is also the slight chance he actually wants to help and maybe telling him your name is just that. Telling him your name.

“Y/n.” Your voice is graveled.

The corner of Dick’s mouth pulls into a small smile. “I’m Dick.” He says and you nod again, remembering that detail. “How’d you burn my arm?” He asks, this time a little sterner and you match him again, shaking your head slowly.

That’s not something you’re going to discuss with some random, run-of-the-mill average person. Having powers and talking to a seemingly powerless person doesn’t seem to end well for the one with powers. So, she keeps her mouth pressed into a hard line.

“You’re not gonna tell me, huh?” Dick asks and he chuckles softly. You sure are stubborn. You shake your head giving him a small but sarcastic grin. “Alright,” Dick nods his head. “How’s food?”

The idea of food is almost nauseating from lack of food recently. The more you think about it the more foods come to your head. Burgers, pizza, pasta, even a bag of chips. All of it is making your mouth water. You are fucking hungry.

You nod slowly.

“I’ll have Gar bring something in for you.” Dick says as he starts walking towards the stand next to your bed. You move slightly to get away from him, your right side aching with the movement. “I’m just grabbing the remote for you.” Dick assures you, keeping his voice level while he opens the drawer and pulls out a black remote. “Here, there are streaming services connected. You can watch whatever.” You narrow your eyes as if expecting it to be a trick of some sort. “It’s just a remote.” Dick tells you and you take it from him slowly, carefully dodging his hands.

You give him a thankful nod as you turn the TV on, a welcome screen lighting up the once black screen. Dick gives you a warm smile before heading for the door, choosing to let you be by yourself for a few minutes. You watch him leave and once he’s out of view, you put your attention to the TV. This whole thing feels weirder by the minute but you’re injured and it hurts to even move. So, you scroll through recommended movies and find one that you remember your mom always saying you should watch together. You never got around to it so you turn it on now, letting the movie help you forget everything that’s happened.

It's half an hour before someone knocks on the open door to your room. You look over to see a cute boy with green and black hair wearing a black shirt with a red logo at the door. He gives you a wide and cheeky smile, holding a plate of pizza.

"Hey, I'm Gar." He greets you, walking in and to the side of your bed.

You look between his eyes and his hair. Green hair. Interesting choice. "Y/n."

"Here." Gar offers the plate to you gently.

You eye it carefully, not sure if you should really take it. What if it’s been poisoned? For all you know, these people are also crazy. But, you look back to his eyes and they’re so warm and welcoming, his smile kind and hopeful. And you are hungry. So, you take it with reluctance, careful not to brush his hands.

"Dick wanted me to bring it to you." Gar states.

"Thanks." The word is quiet as you rest the plate on your lap.

Gar watches as you seem disinterested. Dick told him you were not too talkative and seemed scared, that’s why he asked Gar to bring it in. Rachel is kind of course but Gar tends to be a little warmer and Jason is an unpredictable smartass. Gar seems like the best shot to find out information and he knows that’s why he’s here. But, he feels a bit bad for it and he kind of just wants you to eat.

"There's, uh, there's different kinds of pizza in the kitchen. If you wanted something else I could--"

"It's okay." You offer him a gentle laugh. His words were rambled as if he were nervous and you think it’s kind of sweet. "Cheese is fine." You pick the slice, Gar sticking his hands into his pants pockets.

He watches her for a few seconds, noticing the marks on your wrists, brows furrowing. The marks look like they're ligature marks. The very middle is a brighter color as if to have been rubbed raw. A sting punches Gar's heart and he moves his eyes to the TV, not wanting to look at any more injuries you might have. He’s seen enough for today.

"Oh, I love this movie!" Gar gushes, watching as the goonies walk through a cave, trying to escape the Fratellis.

You glance over to him, barely turning your head. "Yeah?" You ask before taking a bite of your pizza.

"Have you never seen it?" Gar asks, looking back to you, ready to start rambling about it.

He loves movies, especially classic. Movies and video games, that’s how he killed his time at Caulder House and that’s how he kills a lot his time here when Dick isn’t having them train. He likes the adventures the characters get to go and the ones he gets to partake in for video games. Being hidden away like a dirty secret, it was the only way for him to have some type of adventure and the love of movies and video games grew. He could talk for hours on end about them.

"No?" You chuckle softly, finding the excitement in his voice amusing. "Looks old."

"1985, Steven Spielberg." Gar beams.

"Oh, okay so you know the movie." You chuckle, chewing your lip and it feels so casual with him.

Maybe it's just because he brought you food. Or that he seems the same age as you and he looks non-threatening, especially with the green hair. He also just seems ready to talk about anything which you thinks is a little funny. And he's not asking you any questions about who you are or what you can do. On top of that, he’s not looking at you the way Dick was, with some sort of expectation of something. Maybe that’s just Dick’s face, but it’s like he expected you to just talk and talk about what happened. You don’t want people to expect something from you anymore and Gar doesn’t. He just likes the movie.

"D-did you w-wanna watch it?" You raise the question, eyeing him from the corner of your eye. It’s been awhile since you’ve had contact with other people, let alone someone your own age who just wants to talk about a movie.

"Really? Yeah!" Gar jogs around the bed, going to the chair that's by the windows and pulling it closer to your bed. "Cool." Gar bounces in his seat. There’s a reason he has this poster hanging in his room, he will watch it at any given opportunity.

You laugh at the boy who's a little too excited to watch a movie but it's kind of nice. "I like your hair." You say quietly.

"Oh, uh, thanks." Gar smiles softly at you. "Oh watch this, Data has awesome gadgets." Gar's attention goes back to the screen as you watch Data's shoes up from the back, oil spilling from the heels.

"Well, that's cool." You raise your brows, finding it interesting.

"Right?!" Gar exclaims. “He even has a winch attached to him!” Gar says. “But, that’s later, sorry, don’t wanna spoil it.” Gar looks down for a second and then back to the screen.

“No, that’s really cool.” You nod at him. “I liked the zipline between their houses.” You let out a laugh. “I actually think my mom would have killed me if I tried that but it was sick.”

“Yeah, right? Dick should let us put in a zipline.” Gar looks back at you, the excitement etched across his face.

The two of you sit and watch more of the movie while you finish the pizza. You look to him every so often, subconsciously making sure he isn't planning anything or looks like he might be ready to do something fucked up. It's as if you’re fully prepared for him being nice to turn out to be some type of act but instead, he just keeps his eyes on the screen and points out fun little facts he has about the movie when the scenes come on. It's a little confusing for you. You don't really understand why he'd be in here over a movie unless he was told to. It’s nice, of course, but Dick was a bit persistent which makes you wonder if that’s why Gar came in here in the first place.

Gar looks back at you, catching you look at him. He lets out a sigh, looking back to the movie and the smile falls. "You, uh, you wanna know why I'm here, huh?" He looks back to you.

You scrunch your face. "Kind of." You shrug, watching Gar grow defeated. "I-I don't mind....you in here. I-I just don't...d-don't know why you are." Your eyes are slightly narrowed.

"Dick asked me to see if I could get you to talk." Gar confesses. He’s gotten you to say more than Dick did so he didn’t see a point in hiding it. Maybe honesty will get them a little further.

"Mmm, yeah that tracks from the two minutes I've known him." You roll your eyes.

"Well, uh, in his defense, you did burn him." Gar slows his words down as he looks at you again.

You shrug, looking your hands on the blanket. It's a little bit of shame flowing through your veins. If Dick really was just trying to help and your head told you something different, that's really an issue. You wouldn't want to hurt anyone that was really trying to help you. You’ve just spent so much time in the defensive mode it's like your mind forgot what it's like to shut it off for a minute.

"How'd you do it?" Gar asks carefully.

"Mm, nice try." You shake your head at him, appreciating the effort but it’s still a no for you.

Gar shrugs, looking back to the TV. Having powers can be dangerous and Gar knows that so maybe you knowing you’re not alone will help. "I can turn into a tiger. If you're worried about sounding like you're a freak or--"

"Sorry, did you say...tiger?" You question, your voice nearly yelling.

"Yeah." Gar laughs. "I guess, it's uh, kind weird." He hangs his head a bit.

"What? That's fucking awesome. How do you do it?" Your words all slur together as you sit up, crossing your legs and leaning forward.

Gar laughs as he watches as you get excited. The only one who's ever seemed interested in it, kind of like this is Rachel. It's making Gar feel incredible and powerful. "I don't know. This doctor cured me from a mysterious disease. This was one of the side effects." Gar gestures to his head. "Turning into a green tiger."

"That's the coolest thing I have ever fucking heard in my life. Can I see?" You forget every ounce of suspicion you should have in this unfamiliar place but how many times do you run into someone who can turn into a tiger? Batman has cool gadgets and a cool car and Superman can fly but neither of them can turn into an animal. Turning into an animal is basically the coolest thing in the entire world.

"Maybe...." Gar pauses, a grin tugging at his lips. He's not so sure Dick would be happy if he decided to transform just because you asked. "So, what about you?"

You sigh and if he's gonna tell you, maybe you can tell him something. Turning into a tiger is still a power. "I can produce acid with my hands." You flip your palms up, gesturing toward Gar but not too close. Your palms glow a fluorescent green. "I can control how much and how strong it is." The green fades as you put your hand back down in your lap.

"That's awesome." Gar's brows knit together. "Have you been like that your whole life?"

You shakes your head, the mood shifting in the room. "No, something new. But, uh, we're not gonna talk about that."

"Okay." Gar gives you a side smile, accepting that he got an answer.

He doesn't really like to push people for answers anyway. He knows the only reason Dick as him to come here is because Gar is the most likely get something out you. Jason is....an asshole and would likely call you a freak. Rachel doesn't really have a lot of control with her powers so if something happened, that probably wouldn't end well. Gar was really Dick's best option in trying to get any answer of you and Gar does want to help. He helps people. He'd say it's one of his better qualities.

You let out a sigh, watching Gar get back into the movie. "I'm-I'm gonna have to like...talk to him, aren't I?"

Gar looks back at you, pursing his lips with a shrug. "Yeah, but hey, he's really not a bad guy. He can help. He won’t force you to talk, but it’s not a bad idea."

You scoff, seeing flashes of the last night you spent on the streets of Gotham. "Yeah, you know the last person who told me that...." You pause, seeing Gar's eyes soften. "Well, I ended up here." You gesture a hand over your face, knowing it can't look pretty by the sense of the throbbing. "So."

"I'm sorry." Gar says softly. "For whatever you went through."

"Thanks." You say quietly. "Is there anyway I can....borrow a hoodie or something? It's...cold." You pause and you’ve always been good at deflecting.

He nods. "Uh, yeah, yeah. I can grab you one." He stands up quickly, moving to the doorway. "I'll be right back." He smiles sweetly at you before leaving, jogging down the hallway.

Gar jogs to his room, rummaging through his clothes, looking for an oversized hoodie. He could have asked Rachel because he knows Rachel has to have something, too but he almost worries that Rachel will go bring it herself. It's obvious you don't really want to talk to anyone and Dick asked him to do it. He wasn't even supposed to actually leave you alone until Dick told him to. He's never been very good at staying put when he's told to. Call it a flaw. So, he goes through his clothes quickly and finds a gray zip-up hoodie.

"Gotcha." Gar says triumphantly before quickly turning around.

"What are you doing?" Dick asks with exasperation, arms crossed as he stands in the doorway.

Gar's eyes widen. "Uh, hey, Dick. I was just grabbing Y/n a hoodie. She asked."

"Didn't I tell you not to leave her alone?" Dick questions but his tone isn’t mad or upset and Gar nods. "It's alright." Dick shakes his head and offers Gar a gentle smile. "Just trying to help?"

"Yeah." Gar nods slowly. “I feel bad for her.”

"I'll bring it to her." Dick holds out a hand and Gar hands over the hoodie. "Did you find anything out?"

"She can produce acid from her hands. They turn green so I guess it can be obvious." Gar explains, feeling a little bad about it since you obviously don't want him to know but Gar isn't going to lie to Dick. "That's really it, though."

"Good work. Thank you." Dick says with a closed, half smile.

"You're welcome." Gar says, not exactly pleased about it.

Dick leaves Gar in his room, heading back to you. While Gar was talking with you, Dick came up with a plan. He has to find out what's going on. So, he's just going to try and make friends with you. Surely, you seeing that Gar is just another kid and is happy and healthy should help. He'll try to level with you. Not push you or badger you, just level.

You catch a glimpse of Dick coming through the doorframe caring a grey hoodie and you just shake your head. You aren't sure what you expected. Is it too much to ask that you just doesn't want to do talk to this Dick guy?

"Gar was bringing this to you. I stopped him." Dick says, offering the hoodie to you as you narrow your eyes at him.

Everyone always has an ulterior motive. You’re trying to figure out what his could possibly be. Taking in kids who need help? Who have powers? If that's what he's doing, is he building a team of teenage weapons? Is he powered, too? Does he not think it's a little bit weird? But you’re cold and take the hoodie from him.

"Acid, huh?" Dick asks, walking to the front of your bed, your eyes following him still narrowed. "How much control do you have?" Dick asks.

Your brows raise, looking side to side. What a weird fucking question. "Uh...I-I don't...I don't know. A lot, I guess?" You pause, watching him carefully. "Why?"

"I'm just wondering. If you're going to stay here, it's best for me to know." Dick explains and he's so calm despite the fact you burned him.

Stay? You don't know these people, why would you stay? Is that something that people do? Just stay with complete strangers in hopes they aren't serial killers or something? What if they're all a group of serial killers?

"Why would I stay?" You challenge.

Dick shrugs. "Do you have anywhere to go?"

You chew the inside of your cheek, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands. "No." Your voice is broken, as you dodge looking at Dick.

That's a fair point. You don't have anywhere to go. The only place you’ve ever known is Gotham and that basement. That's it. You don't know anyone in the city or have a phone to call anyone back in Gotham, not that you want to really. At least in Gotham, living on the streets wasn't easy but it was familiar. You knew the cars to break into, the stores to rob and get away with it. You knew where all the cameras were and the GCPD shift schedule. But, this is San Francisco and you are clueless.

"I know it seems..." Dick pauses for a second as he leans against the wall behind him. "Scary maybe?" He pauses again, you looking up to him. "But, really, I just wanna help."

You think about it for a few seconds. This is the most comfortable you’ve been in a year. You’re on high alert and you don't think your brain will ever rest but you’re warm, in a bed, watching a movie. You had pizza. You can't remember the last time you had pizza. And you got all this by not robbing anyone or squatting. Maybe a night or two couldn't hurt.

"O-okay." You say quietly.

"Yeah?" Dick offers a side smile, surprised you said okay. "Did you want to stay here?"

"Um...if that's...okay." Your words are soft and unsure. "As long as you're not gonna like....kill me, I guess."

Dick chuckles softly, looking to the floor and back to you. "We're not gonna kill you."

"Well, that's great then." You shrug, tugging at the sleeves again. "Um...what about the others? Do they have powers?" You ask before continuing. "Gar said he can turn into a Tiger so...."

"Yeah, he can." Dick confirms it and catches the smile wanting to split your face. "Rachel, she has powers. We're still trying to figure them out. Then there's Jason, don't mind him." Dick warns with a grin. "You'll get used to him but he doesn't have powers. He's pretty good at combat, though."

You nod, as if to be accepting what he's saying. "So, you just...pluck kids off the street or?"

"For someone who doesn't answer a lot of questions, you sure have a lot of them." Dick offers a light-hearted chuckle.

You tilt your head with a shrug. "I-I, uh, haven't, uh." You furrow your brows. "Haven't had much contact with anyone really. In a while." You suck in a breath. “I am also just an inquisitive person.”

Dick nods. "Rachel found me, actually. She needed help, I didn't want to help but..." He pauses thinking back to the whole mess that unfolded. "I couldn't just leave her on her own."

"Now you want to help?"

Dick nods once more. "Yeah, she doesn't have anyone else. I lost my parents so I get it. I didn't have anyone either until someone decided to reach out."

You nod slowly, grasping it now. It's like a passing of the kindness kind of thing. Someone helped him as a kid, showed him some of the greatest kindness so now he's out here doing the same. Assuming what he's saying is all true, that is.

"What about Gar and Jason?"

"Gar was with Rachel, we got separate and he helped her. Wanted to come with and he didn't have a place that he felt like he belonged. Jason....well, he needs more guidance. He's not really allowed to go back to being who he was yet. I took him in."

Your eyes narrow with suspension again. "Is he like a bad person or something?" The way he talks about Jason compared to the others is a little weird. He speaks highly of Rachel and Gar but seems to have a harder time doing that with Jason. There is some sort of history there that you are very intrigued about.

"No," Dick answers quickly with a shake of his head. "He's just a little reckless."

"Ahh." You say quietly, knowing that being reckless tends to be a little fun but also understanding the consequences. If it weren't for recklessness, you'd still be in Gotham. "So, what now then?"

"I can show you around, show you to a room that'll be yours if you’re feeling up for it."

"I'll have a room?" You ask with a scoff. "How fucking big is this place?"

Dick laughs. "It's pretty big."

"Sweet." You sit up fully, crossing your legs. "Then what?"

"Do you have other powers?" Dick asks, feeling like maybe he'll get an answer.

The other one isn’t a big deal, really. It doesn’t hurt anyone and will maybe just protect you. To you, right now, it doesn’t seem like not telling him is really going to be much benefit to you anyway but you also doesn’t know exactly how to explain it.

“Uh...” Your brows furrow as you search for words. “If...someone tries to....hit me or attack me,” You start. “I get this intense throbbing in the back of my head and I just....know where they’ll come from.” You explain.

“Combat clairvoyance, how long have you had that?” Dick asks, finding it interesting.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s a new thing, like the acid.”

“Okay,” Dick nods his head. “Anything else?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” You answer honestly. Maybe you have more, maybe not. You’re hoping with everything in you that you don’t have some hidden power, one is more than enough for you and you’re stuck with two.

"Okay then." He seems satisfied with answers, choosing not to push to find out how you got your powers for right now. "Want the tour or did you want to rest some more?"

"Tour." You say without even thinking about it. You’ve been in the same room for months and you’re tired of being locked in one room. You want to see everything.

"Alright." Dick chuckles. He walks to the side of your bed and offers you an arm to help you.

"I'm fine." You shrug him off, pulling the blanket off of you, revealing your black leggings that have holes at one of the knees and one on the other shin. "Are there like....clothes I can borrow?" You ask as you get out of the bed carefully, your legs feeling a bit weak as you stand.

"I’m sure we’ll find something. Hoodie is Gar's though." Dick explains.

"Cool." You flash him a smile. "He's cool."

"Yeah, he's a good kid." Dick smiles back at you as the two of you exit the room.

Dick leads you down the hallway and decides to start with the kitchen and living area. It's right in the middle of the tower and figured that might be a good place to start. You take in the open-concept rooms. You’re relieved it's not all white. You remember watching HGTV back in Gotham and everything was always white. It's like these grown adults had a problem with color. Who would want to live in a place that looks like a hospital? But this tower isn't like that. It has a dark color palette. The floors, the walls, all dark but big floor-to-ceiling windows line the back wall of the two rooms giving the place plenty of light. A large fireplace sits in the center of the living room, not against a wall. You like it a lot more than you would ever openly admit.

"Kitchen, living room." Dick gestures a hand out, letting you walk in front of him to look at the rooms.

"It's nice." You say, looking back at Dick. "You an interior designer or something?" You quip, looking to the windows, seeing the city.

Dick just looks at you, looking unamused before a smile cracks across his face. "No," He scoffs. "I didn't decorate the place."

"Mmm, a shame. It would give you at least a point in my book." You look back to him and give a sarcastic grin.

"You're keeping a point system?" Dick’s brows riase, unsure if you’re joking or not.

"You don't?" You scoff with a chuckle.

It was a sarcastic comment but you’re not gonna let that go. You'd keep the bit going for as long as you know Dick now. He's stuck with a point system.

"What's next?" You ask.

"Follow me." Dick walks past you, leading you down a dark hallway.

You follow closely, looking at the rooms you pass which all have doors closed. The spacing of the doors indicated they're all large rooms. You couldn't tell what the housing market is like, something you never could even in Gotham but you'd have to bet this is at least a million-dollar house, apartment? Whatever it should be called. It's so fucking big.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you reach what seems to be a training room, a boy with black hair hitting a punching bag off to the side. You take in the area and are actually seriously questioning if Dick is turning kids into weapons. What would the point be to have a room like this if not? And there is already a kid working out so it’s being used. Maybe it’ll be beneficial to you. Learn a few things and escape when the time is right.

"This is the training room. When you're able, you can train here with everyone else."  Dick explains, putting his hands in his pockets as you stand at the open sliding doors.

The boy turns around hearing Dick talk. He looks at you with bruises and cuts across your face. He grimaces at the sight of you. Gar told him Dick brought you home but he didn’t think it was that bad.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" He asks with a scoff.

"What the fuck happened to yours?" You strike back, Dick doing a double take with the fire in your words.

"My face is fucking perfect, fuck you." Jason sneers, he was just asking a simple question. He didn't expect for you to have a comment back.

"Yeah, who the fuck says? Fuck you." You sneer back at him.

The immediate question of your face just caught you off guard. It seemed a bit rude, the way he asked and you’re not gonna let him talk to you like that. But, by the way his nostrils flare, you can tell that challenging him will be fun.

Dick watches the two of you, not even sure exactly what he expected from Jason but this should have been it.

"Hey," Dick shakes his head.

"She started it." Jason pouts his glove-covered hand at you.

"You asked what happened to my face!" You defend. “And my name is y/n.”

"Because you look like someone fucked you up. Maybe get in here and spar a bit, it'll save your face next time if you’re that offended." Jason snips.

"Jason, right?" You look to Dick and Dick nods.

"Heard about me, huh?" Jason gains a cocky grin as he walks closer to you.

"That tracks." You nod with the roll of your eyes. If he’s like this all the time, you get why Gar and Dick have both said you’d get used to him. But, what they don’t know is that people like Jason are always really fun to fuck with.

"What?" Jason asks, the smile still wide, almost expecting everyone to talk highly of him.

"Just heard you're really good at combat." You smile at him, playing into his ego and deciding to have a little bit of fun with him.

"Yeah, maybe I can show you a thing or two." Jason looks you up and down.

"I can show you." You do the same, mimicking his actions.

Dick stands there a bit in shock as to what is happening right now. You blatantly refused to talk to him and warmed up a bit to Gar. But, had he known introducing you to Jason would get you talking, he might have just done that first. What is even going on? And why are you humoring him? 

"Can we not--" Dick starts but Jason cuts him off.

"Look, babe, it looks like you're the one who needs help." Jason offers and you can't tell if this is him being nice or if he's trying to get laid or what but whatever the fuck it is, it is not working. But, either way, you know this is going to be fun.

"Okay, I'll bet you, you can't fucking touch me." You challenge him while Dick snaps his attention to you. Did you suddenly forget you were injured?

"You need more rest. Let's continue--"

"What's the bet?" Jason plays along.

You smirk at him, looking him up and down again. "Mmm, I don't know. If you can't land a single hit in thirty seconds, you owe me whatever I decide. If you win...."

Dick is standing there, asking the universe "Why him?" what did he do for this? He was just trying to help and now he's here with two of the same people. Of all people you had to be like, it had to be Jason. Can't be another Gar or Rachel. No, you have to be like Jason because Dick can never catch a break.

"I'll let you let off this time." Jason offers, catching Dick by surprise.

"Deal." You stick out your hand, Jason catching a glimpse of the mark on your wrists, pausing. "Don't make it fucking weird."

"Deal." Jason widens his eyes before sticking a hand out.

“Be careful.” Dick warns them.

Normally, Dick would step in and stop this. You’re injured and shouldn’t be doing anything really but he is pretty interested to see the combat clairvoyance in action. Jason is reckless and hot headed but he’s not violent and Dick doesn’t believe Jason will go full out. So, Dick doesn’t stop you as you walk to the middle of the floor, straight face.

"Come on, babe, let's see what you got." You mock Jason and Jason wastes no time in moving towards you.

Jason takes a swing, you dodging him making him miss, ignoring the pain your side. Your ability to mess with someone like Jason should also be a superpower. You will do everything in your power to not let any of your injuries interfere with this. Jason stutters for a second before trying again, missing. You give him a side smirk with the raise of your brows, taunting him. Jason huffs before putting more power into it, going faster this time and you put your arm up just in time to block him.

"What the fuck?" Jason mutters, throwing punches and trying to kick you while you keep dodging and blocking him.

It's fun for you and you know nothing about combat but you remember seeing videos of Batman and Robin fighting. He reminds you of them, the way he fights. If those two are any indication, he really must be good at it. But, this is also unfair to him and you think it's funny. You like how he's growing more and more frustrated, nostrils flaring with every miss. Jason takes another swing, right for the center of your face, you catch his fist, less than an inch from your nose.

You look past his fist, not letting him go, deciding to mess with him a little more. "You're kind of cute, ya know?" Jason narrows his eyes but his arm doesn't relax. He knows the tactic and he’d be lying if he didn’t find it a bit amusing that you tried it. "Nothing?" You raise a brow.

"Nice try." Jason yanks his fist away, going to the floor to trip you but you’re just quick enough for him to miss.

"Okay, that's enough." Dick walks to the middle with you, tired of watching and if this goes on any longer, he knows he'll be hearing from Jason about it. It's never something he wants to deal with.

“I won, thanks for that.” You beam at Jason. “Needed it.”

“You're just not playing fucking fair." Jason yells behind Dick.

"So, you thought it was fair to try hitting me, someone who has no combat experience and is injured but it's not fair for me to not tell you that I can avoid being hit?" You question and watch Jason become flustered.

"You started it." Jason groans and you can't help but find it funny.

You completely understands why Dick and Gar weren't very vocal about Jason. You get it now. He's definitely something else. Most people would probably find him annoying and an asshole, which he is, but you find it amusing more than anything. Plus, he looks like he carries damage. Something about the way he moves, the lost and distant look in his eyes. It's interesting.

"Yeah," You grin with a shrug. "And what are you gonna do about it?" You taunt, a wide, challenging smile on display.

Jason's brows furrow as he jerks his head back. He's never had anyone challenge him like this before and he's not a fan of it. He takes the same shit he dishes out but it is kind of fun going back and forth about it. But he really doesn't get it. No one comes out of the gate swinging like that.

"We're gonna continue the tour if that's okay with the two of you." Dick looks between you, his voice more a statement rather than an actual question.

"Okay." You offer him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, I got shit to do." Jason mumbles, walking back to where he was when you first walked in, eyes trailing on you a little longer than he really wanted.

You smirk to yourself, watching Jason walk back to the punching bag. It's weird because he's kind of an asshole but something about him feels like home. Maybe it's because he isn't tip-toeing around you or offering you some weird type of kindness that makes your skin crawl. He doesn't look sympathetic and look at you with pity. Not after you talked away. Dick and Gar do though, it makes you shift and you hate the uneasiness about it.

You follow Dick back down another hallway decorated with lights and a few memorabilia-type things. It gives you the impression this isn't some new superhero thing, despite the younger ages of the other kids. It looks like this place was lived in for awhile, haunted by previous heroes.

"This is your room." Dick opens a black door, sitting in between two other rooms and showing you inside.

It's plain and simple. A TV sits on an entertainment center against the left-hand wall. Large windows line the first half of the room and a bed sits against the right wall. It's as if the room is literally divided into two parts, a living area and a sleeping area. Two small backless shelving units divide the two areas. A dresser is next to the left-hand side of the door, a turntable and a lamp sitting on top. They're empty and so is a bookshelf next to the left side of the bed. It's so empty.

"We can go tomorrow to get you some clothes and a few things if you want." Dick offers as you walk into the room fully taking it in.

"Uh..." You stutter, turning around to face him. "I-I don't have...money?"

Dick smiles gently. "It's okay. I got it."

Your eyes narrow at him and you cannot figure out why he would do this. "Okay...why? Like why are you doing this? Everyone has a motive so what's yours?"

Dick shrugs a shoulder, putting his hands in his pockets. "The people here are special and so are you. It's hard being out there and being special."

"So what makes you special then?"

"Same as Jason."

"Ahh." You nods your head once. Interesting. "What if I don't wanna fight?" You ask.

Dick shakes his head. "You don't have to, you just have to learn to control your powers. It's up to you if want to learn more. But you'll be safe here."

You feel like this is some type of dream about to turn into a nightmare. You’ve had a dream before where someone comes to rescue you from the dreadful and dreary basement but then they turn. They find out about your powers or they're just as fucked up as her foster dad and they just use you. An endless string of torture. This doesn't feel like that, not really, because this isn't a dream. You’re wide awake but it's hard to believe.

"Okay." You say, turning back around and walking to the TV.

"You can stream from it if you want, it's connected to the Wi-Fi already with the accounts, like the TV in the other room." Dick explains.

You look back to him. "Cool." Your voice is quiet and you always just liked to watch TV and movies.

It wasn't a coping mechanism or some type of escape from the hell for Gotham. Some people find fun in sports or art or social media, your thing was TV. You just found it fun to see the stories play out in front of your eyes, not reading, just watching. A part of you think it might sound dumb if you said TV was one of the things you missed the most.

"Well," Dick sighs. "I'll leave you be then. If you need anything, I'll be around and so will everyone else. Gar is to the right and Jason left, Rachel is across the hall." Dick explains.

You nod, still just looking around unsure how to even feel about being here. Is there a way you can plan an escape if shit hits the fan? Always have some type of escape plan. Anything can happen and you won't be captured again and held captive. But, Dick is really nice and there's a part of you that is certain if he were kidnapping kids and holding them here against their will, he would have let Jason go a long time ago.

"Uh....t-t-thank you." You stutter catching Dick right before he leaves the room. "For saving me."

"Don't mention it." Dick smiles at you, feeling good about the decision to help you. "Just don't burn me again."

"Yeah..." You scrunch your face. "Sorry."

"It's alright, get some rest." Dick says kindly before leaving you to yourself, shutting the door behind him.

Meanwhile, in the training room, Gar and Rachel have joined Jason. Rachel, thus far, is the only one who hasn't met you and she's curious. And if Dick is gonna bring another person so soon, all three of them feel like they need to talk about it. They should get a say if someone gets to join their little found family.

"What is she like?" Rachel asks.

"She's nice, seems scared though." Gar shrugs while Jason scoffs.

"She's a bitch." Jason walks over to the two of them. "And she's a freak."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You think everyone is a freak." Jason has also called her a freak on more than one occasion.

"She was nice to me." Gar shrugs, casually knowing it's not exactly easy to be nice to Jason even on a good day.

He's his best friend, of course, but he's not easy to get along with. It's kind of up to Jason and what kind of day he's had. Gar, on the other hand, is the easiest one in the tower to get along with. He's just nice to everyone even if they aren't nice to him.

"Did she tell you how and why she burned Dick?" Rachel asks, ignoring Jason as he takes a seat beside Gar.

"She can produce acid with her hands." Gar states, ignoring the groan leaving Jason. "She didn't say why."

"Maybe that's why Dick brought her, to help control her powers." Rachel offers.

"Maybe." Gar tilts his head with the raise of his brows, not really thinking that's what it is. "I think he just has a thing for picking up strays."

"I wasn't a stray." Jason scoffs in his own defense, the idea of Bruce sending him here still sour in his mouth.

Rachel glares at him, unamused while Gar just shakes his head and ignores him. "You could talk to her." Gar says. "She's only talked to us, maybe a girl will make her feel better about being here."

"Yeah," Rachel laughs softly. "There's too much testosterone here." Rachel looks to Jason. "Is that okay with you?" She asks mockingly, not actually asking for his opinion.

Jason shrugs, seemingly to have not gotten the sarcastic tone. "She is hot, ya know, besides the cuts and shit so yeah. Need something pretty to look at it."

"Gross." Gar grimaces.

"You're such a fuckboy." Rachel shakes her head, looking back to Gar.

"Hey, fuck you." Jason retorts. "All you do is stare at Gar, I want someone to look at."

"I do not!" Rachel fires back, cheeks tinting red.

Gar watches the two of them, shifting in his seat having never noticed if she did stare at him or not. He's hoping she knows they're just friends. He is not very good at letting people down softly, mostly because he trips over his words and makes everything worse by trying to spare their feelings.

"Right." Jason scoffs, getting back to his feet. "You're with me, right?" Jason looks to Gar. "About y/n?"

"Uh..." Gar tilts his head, forehead wrinkling not even wanting to get into this.

He thinks it's a little insensitive. Of course, it's exactly what he expects from Jason but he's not gonna get dragged into it. You just got here and you’re very clearly traumatized. He's not looking at you in any type of way besides with sympathy and empathy. Though he does think you’re pretty, even with the cuts and bruises Jason wants to so rudely dismiss but Gar won't say it. It's not his place or the time. Surely, they can let you settle in and let you just do your own thing. They don't need to be talking about you.

Jason shakes his head. "We gotta find out more about her though, right? Like who the fuck is she?"

"Does it matter?" Rachel counters.

"Yeah, man, I don't think it's up to us." Gar adds in.

Jason puts his weight to one leg. "What if she's like...here to kill us or some shit? Shouldn't we know?"

"Pretty sure Dick would have looked into that already." Gar states, eyes slightly narrowed at him.

Jason is paranoid and dramatic and over-enthusiastic about being a hero. Gar thinks it's the coolest thing that's ever happened to him, becoming a Titan. There are so few people who get to say they're a Titan and Gar is one of them. He's so excited to get out there and fight these big bad guys but not until Dick says they're ready. Jason, on the other hand, has the experience and doesn't think he even needs to be here. Gar can tell Jason is just hoping you will be part of a big bad plot.

"Did he tell you that?" Jason counters.

"He doesn't need to, Jason." Rachel grows more annoyed with Jason with every passing second.

"Come on, you wanna know, right? How she got her powers? Ended up here? Think it's some coincidence or some shit with Dick finding her?" Jason argues, looking directly at Gar knowing Gar won't be able to resist. "We can find out."

"Gar." Rachel says.

It's the way she said his name that he knows it's threatening but...Jason has a point. If Dick and you don't find out, no one else will know. He doesn't think Rachel will rat them out or anything. Jason is always just very persistent and he'll probably do it himself, if Gar is there and he gets caught, maybe Dick will go easier on him and they won't have to listen to it.

Gar sighs. "Fine but just to sure."

"Unbelievable." Rachel stands up. "You two are terrible. We shouldn't pry into someone else's privacy."

"What if there is someone though? Jason kind of has a point." Gar counters, still sitting on the ground. “I mean, you were being chased by people who wanted to kill you. Maybe it’s better if we find out just to be safe.”

"You don't have to come." Jason shrugs a shoulder, looking at Rachel.

"I wasn't going to. You two do whatever you want." She waves her hands in annoyance before heading to leave the training room. "I'm going to be normal and just talk to her." Rachel leaves the boys to themselves, knowing they won't be far behind to go to the computer.

Gar and Jason stay in the training room a little longer before making their way to the infirmary. They saw the cuts and Gar helped Dick clean them up so Gar knows they can get blood from the garbage to run your DNA. It's definitely an invasion of privacy that doesn't quite sit well with him but what if Jason is right? He's paranoid, sure, but what if Dick didn't look into you? What are they supposed to do? It can't hurt. Dick sometimes seems too trusting, he didn't really ask Gar any questions before letting him join the little group. If Dick is just waiting for you to start talking and you’re a part of something bigger, that would be very not good for any of them. That's the reasons he lists as to why this isn't some horrible thing they're doing.

"Y/n Y/l/n." Jason crosses his arms as they see your picture show up on the screen.

"Born in Gotham City." Gar says, sitting at the computer, matching the stare on the large screen before looking at Jason, then back to the screen. "Uh...let's see. Her mom was killed...by the Joker." Gar's voice grows sad and quiet, looking over to Jason knowing his dad was killed by Two-Face.

"Shit." Jason huffs, a sense of what one might describe as guilt comes over him knowing what it's like.

"Dad has a rap sheet for drugs." Gar looks back to Jason and then back to the computer, growing more uncomfortable with the similarities of the two of you. "She was arrested for breaking into cars, put into foster care. That's all there is." Gar reads it off before looking back to Jason.

Jason squints his eyes at the screen, knowing how close he was to being you and something in the pit of his stomach feels horrible for how he treated you. It makes him feel uneasy, knowing he could have been you had he just robbed the wrong car of the hubcaps, had you robbed the right one. It’s a reality check.

"Look up the guy." Jason says, hiding the uneasiness in his voice.

"Jerry Johnson, what a name." Gar mocks. "Uh....former scientist from Gotham."

Gar lets the words sit in his mouth. The thing about Gotham is that it really does breed special kind of people. The fucked up kind of special. Mr. Freeze, Scarecrow, Penguin, the Joker, the Riddler, what is happening in that city? It doesn't take much for Gar to figure that your powers didn't come from anything accidental, that you were some type of test subject your foster dad used. That explains a lot, your attitude toward Dick. The defensiveness. Gar wonders how he came out the other end not like that. He wasn't really an experiment but...it was some crazy scientists who thought Gar changing into a tiger was better than dying. It is but it's not always easy and he's not always a fan of it. It's hard to imagine how you might feel.

"Fuck, dude." Jason huffs, looking down to Gar. "Think that guy did that to her?"

Gar shrugs, not wanting to think of someone being victimized like that. Beat, tortured, chained up. It makes his stomach twist. "Maybe." Gar clears his throat. "We should...get out of here." He looks away from the computer.

"Yeah," Jason says quietly while Gar exits out of everything.

"It doesn't seem like she's the bad guy." Gar's voice is defeated and maybe a part of him was hoping you would be. It would give them something to do but this just got really sad, really fast.

"Guess not." Jason mutters and Gar can't tell if he's disappointed or just lost in his thought about it.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah." Jason gives him a grin. "Just fucked up."

Gar curls his lips in with a nod. "Yeah."

While the boys sit and figure out how they're supposed to handle this newfound information without letting you or Dick know how they found out, Rachel went to your room.

You’re in your room, sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watching Zombieland. The movie's been out for a while but you’re so in love with it. There's zombies who don't just walk and eat people. They actually have speed and the characters aren't dumb. There are rules to surviving any type of horror movie and this guy in the movie just gets it. It's by far one of your favorite comfort movies. And you’re having a great time, just relaxing for the first time in a year. It's like you can almost breathe clearly again, wrapped in a blanket on a couch and in a warm home. But, then a knock sounds on your door and you’re reminded that you’re not alone.

You get up, taking the blanket with you. "Uh....hey?" You ask, seeing the girl with purple hair, dressed head to toe in black with a weird red gem in the center of her forehead.

"Hey," Rachel smiles softly. "I'm Rachel."

"Y/n." You offer, hand still on the door.

"I just wanted to come and meet you. I know you met everyone else." Rachel explains nicely.

You nod and you almost feel like an animal at a zoo but that's not Rachel's fault. It's like when someone new comes to school halfway through the school year and suddenly everyone wants to talk to them. They're like a new toy.

"Yeah, uh, yeah." You nod, sliding your hand off the door. "Did....you wanna come in?" You ask, not sure if you should or not. It all feels so bizarre.

"Sure." Rachel smiles softly, walking inside while you shut the door. "How do you like your room?" Rachel looks around at the empty place, wondering how you would decorate it.

"It's okay." You answer with a shrug. "Kind of boring, I guess."

"Dick will get you stuff to make it yours." Rachel explains.

"Right." You nod slowly before going back to your spot on the couch.

You don't have much else to say. You’re not actively trying to be standoffish. Rachel is just being nice but you don't even know how you’re supposed to talk to people and you’re truthfully tired and want to enjoy your movie. You just didn't want to sound like a bitch and tell Rachel to leave.

"What do you think about the guys?" Rachel asks, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, not getting too close to you which you really appreciate. Rachel figures talking about the guys might be an easy way to get you to warm up to her.

"Uh..." You furrows your brows and a smile creeps onto your face. "Gar's really nice." You say quietly. "Dick is okay, I guess. Jason's an asshole."

Rachel lets out a laugh. "I know! It's been just us for a month." Rachel leans her head back dramatically making you laugh. "You'll get used to him. Gar and Dick make it easier."

You shake your head. "I don't mind, actually." You huff with a smile, earning yourself a surprised and confused look from Rachel. You shrug. "He's funny to fuck with. He gets all mad and I think it's funny."

"What'd you do?" Rachel asks, intrigued why someone would find it funny but also kind of wants to see someone actually get under Jason's skin and not be bothered by whatever ignorant comment he'll say.

"I asked him what was wrong with his face when he asked about mine then I challenged him to a bet. He lost." You hold your up proudly.

"What was the bet? Teach me. He bugs me." Rachel says dramatically, her eyes wide.

"I can do this thing," This time when you explain it, your head is held with pride and confidence. "I can sense when someone is gonna attack me, told him he could hit me and he couldn't."

"That's awesome! Can I be there next time, please?" Rachel pleads.

Rachel and Jason haven’t gotten along since her dad possessed him. They got along fine when they met in Chicago but then things got a little rocky. Rachel actually doesn’t like not getting along with him, especially living under the same roof, but she can’t pinpoint exactly what it was that made him not like her. She’s tried to be nice but it never really gets her anywhere with him. So, seeing someone put Jason in his place sounds like a good time.

"Sure. I don't think Dick thought it was very funny." You let out a soft chuckle, warming up to Rachel. She is very nice.

"Gar will think it's hilarious. They spar together more than us and Gar puts up a good fight but Jason always wins." Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Gar doesn't seem like a fighter."

Rachel shrugs a shoulder. "He's not."

"Probably a good thing, he's cute." You blurt it out, shocked you actually said that out loud. "I have said too much."

"No, it's okay. He is." Rachel laughs softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You backtrack. "Are you a thing?"

"No!" Rachel exclaims. "No, we're just friends. No one here is like a thing or anything."

"Oh, okay. That's a bit surprising. Though, I guess you wouldn't be into Jason." You joke.

"God, no." Rachel grimaces with the thought. "I'd rather die." Rachel says making you laugh. "Is that Gar's?" Rachel points towards the hoodie.

"Uh...yeah. He loaned to me. I asked for a hoodie because it's a little cold in here."

"That's really nice of him." Rachel offers a soft side smile.

"Yeah..." You tug the sleeves over your hands.

"Can I ask what happened to you?" Rachel asks carefully.

You shift in your seat. You’d love to go as long as humanly possible without saying anything about it. It's just traumatic. It's not even like it's a secret. It's just hard to talk about and you don't know these people at all. It feels like something more personal than to just go around and blasting it to complete strangers. If Dick makes you say something, you will but until then, you'd like to just tell them on your own time. Not when you’re asked.

"Uh...it's....a-a long story." You look to the TV and Rachel can see that a part of you just shut down with the question. It's obvious that it's bad but Rachel didn't think it would cause a distant reaction.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me or anything but if you want to talk about it, you can talk to me." Rachel's voice is quiet.

"T-thank you." You glance at her from the corner of your eye. "Uh...it's okay. I, uh, I just don't wanna talk about it yet." You shake your head.

"That's okay." Rachel smiles softly. "No pressure. We all have shit here." Rachel huffs with a laugh.

"I can tell." You whisper. "No offense." You say quickly. "You seem fine, actually but everyone else has....a vibe. Even Gar, feels like there's something going on. Jason can't be that big of an asshole without having trauma and Dick seems like he picks up teenagers off the street because of trauma."

Rachel laughs. "Yeah, pretty much." She lets out a sigh. "My dad is a demon who tried to kill me."

You furrow your brows, forehead wrinkling as you slowly turn to look at Rachel. "I'm sorry, what?"

Rachel nods. "Gave this as a trophy." Rachel taps the gem that's embedded to her forehead.

"Well..." You pause. "What the fuck?" You laugh. "It's not funny...I just....did not think I'd hear that."

"Yeah," Rachel laughs softly. "I didn't expect to find out my dad was a demon. I guess it explains a lot." Rachel scrunches her nose.

"Yeah, meeting the parental figure that fucked shit up can sometimes have answers even if it's not the ones you want." You say quietly, feeling Rachel staring at you. "Long story, dad's an addict. Got the answers I didn't want but needed."

"Jeez." Rachel sighs.

"Yeah," You say, realizing you’re saying too much and figured this was enough for the night. "Hey, uh, I'm like...really tired." You tug the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands again. "Can I get some sleep?" You ask slowly, trying not to sound harsh.

"Yeah, of course!" Rachel says quickly, getting up from her spot. "I'll see you tomorrow." Rachel smiles at you. "You can trust us, just so you know. We're a family here."

"Thanks." You answer before Rachel heads for the door and leaves.

You almost hate to admit but you think maybe you could fit in here. It's a bunch of people with trauma trying to make something work, maybe even work through it. You actually like everyone that lives here from the small interactions you’ve had. Everyone seems genuine, even if one of them is an asshole, at least it's genuine. None of them seem to be here being held against their will. Rachel and Gar made you feel comfortable. The door isn't locked and you can leave when you want. Something about it still feels too good to be true but for this moment, just this moment, you let yourself sit in peace with the hope that it's all going to be okay again.

next chapter

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Tag list: @italiana-20 // @fairyofshampoo​F----

[jhpeg]

eddie munson is a bad influence

hopper!reader with established friendship and all that stuff. listen guys i’ll be real, i’ve never written a fic before but my head has been spinning with eddie ideas and i needed to let it out! maybe let me know if you want more? i am so weak for eddie being a stoner boyfriend. i hope you enjoy whatever this mess is! any feedback is appreciated i love you all sm and big thank you to vic for bullying encouraging me to write and post this

rating: m, i think? drug use, language and closeness and innuendos ya know so no minors up in this gig please?

word count: 3.3k (i need to shut the hell up)

//

“i want to smoke weed.”

the statement alone had made eddie do a spit take. he hadn’t heard that correctly, there was no way. not chief jim hoppers daughter, not his best friend of 12 years who had given him a power point lecture at the age of 14 about why smoking “the devils lettuce” would ultimately ruin his life.

wiping the liquid away from his chin with the back of his hand, eddie turned to look at her with narrowed eyes, “are you pranking me? are you wearing a wire?” he asked, tilting his head and looking at y/n curiously.

you had always done what you were told, not because you felt like you didn’t have any other choice, because there was nothing you feared more than disappointing the person that had made you the person you were. your father, chief jim hoppers pride and joy, his sweet angel that could never do any wrong. the statements he made about you were mostly true, you had perfect grades and attendance, never spoke back to anyone and went out of your way to make his life easier when the job was too much.

but the closer you got to graduation, the more you realised just how much you had missed out on. all the parties that you had missed, the experience of skipping class or even the feeling of getting any grade below an A.

the minute those thoughts had come, the answer was obvious. eddie. he had been in your life for as long as you could remember and even though he had taken a detour from your joint path when you both entered high school, the affection you held for him never wavered. there was no judgement that you held towards him for the.. activities he participated in, only concern that he would get caught and his third chance at graduating would be ripped away from him. eddie was always there to reassure you with a sweet kiss on the top of your head, talking into the soft waves of your hair “sweetheart, i know what i’m doing. i promise i will be back in a jiffy,” with that stupid big smile that made you melt every time before he would leave you in his van while he went to his business spot in the woods to complete whatever transaction was requested from him.

there was no where you felt more safe than eddie’s bedroom. it smelled like him, had his personality splattered over every inch of the room whether it be his favourite band posters on the wall, d&d notes scattered around his desk and his endless pile of band shirts creating an interesting carpet layout on the floor. what better place to try smoking for the first time?

eddie’s reaction to your question hadn’t been entirely surprising, considering the amount of times you had told him that he didn’t need to smoke, that he could find that feeling through other means. but that didn’t stop you from slanting your eyes and dropping your bottom lip into a pout as your arms crossed over your chest defensively. “you heard me, eds. i want to smoke weed. with you, preferably,” you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes that you could feel searching for yours.

eddie shuffled closer to you on his bed, crossing his legs to mirror your position which made his knees brush up against yours. he looked at you intensely, waiting for you to continue and say what you really wanted. it was something eddie was always working on with you, getting you to speak your actual mind and not what you thought someone wanted to hear.

looking down in your lap at your fingers that wrung around each other anxiously, you sighed and gave in to his pleading eyes. “i.. i know i’ve spent our entire high school lives telling you it’s bad and all that stuff, but i feel..” you clenched your teeth, feeling like an idiot for getting so worked up over what felt like nothing. “i feel like i’ve missed out,” you continued quietly, “every week people are talking about the parties that they go to, how much they drank and what drugs they did and all that stuff. but i don’t want to go to parties, i want to do it here with you.” you cringed at your choice of words, cheeks flushing immediately as your head snapped up to look at eddie as you quickly corrected yourself, “i mean, i mean i want to smoke weed with you! not do IT with you!” you rushed out, catching his eyes to desperately figure out if he was understanding what you meant.

eddie was patient with y/n, knowing she struggled to make sense of the words in her brain when she was nervous. she had all the tells, right from when she had walked into his trailer that afternoon. she was avoiding his eyes, giving one word answers, asking him to repeat himself again because she had spaced out. he knew she would come out with it eventually and when she did, he almost squealed from pure excitement.

he grabbed her hands that were wound tight, pulling each finger away from another until both of their hands were pressed together and fingers laced. “y/n, sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about here. this is a safe space, you know that,” he said, following her gaze that was trying to land anywhere but his face. “look at me,” he stated, a bit firmer than he had intended to but it seemed to grab her attention. “believe me when i say you haven’t missed out on anything at those parties. it’s all loud music, sweaty hormonal jocks that grope anyone with tits,” he said, knowing that it would be everything y/n hated and more. “but if you are looking for the beautiful experience from our sweet mother nature and her plants, you’ve come to the right guy.” finishing his sentence with a wink, eddie all but jumped from the bed and made his way to the box he kept in the corner of his room with a checkered blanket covering it.

you hadn’t been able to get a single word out in response to eddie before he was running over to what you knew as his ‘secret stash of love’ as your best friend liked to refer to it. your nerves started to subside when eddie was back on his bed, sitting in the same position with his knees touching yours. the closeness was already enough to make a heat spread through your body, but the thought of soon smoking weed for the first time made the room feel ten times hotter than before.

“alright, princess. this is a whole new world you’re about to step in, you’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, keeping his eyes locked on y/n’s in search of any hesitation but she nodded quickly, reaching her hand out to pull the cover away from his stash box, revealing the contents you had never planned on seeing.

eddie was practically buzzing from excitement when y/n made the first move of removing the cover from his container that had a range of items from various sized baggies with different strain names scribbled onto them, multiple pairs of scissors for trimming and copious amounts of papers floating around the box. eddie would never admit it, but he was truly nervous for what was going to come next. the pressure was immense already when he was being someone’s smoke sherpa and when it was y/n sitting in front of him, her eyes wide with interest he was well and truly fucked. “alright sweets,” he began as he grabbed two plastic bags and the papers he wanted to use for y/n’s first smoke. “here we have two different weed strains, indica and sativa,” he pointed to each bag respectively as he explained the basics for what she would need to know. “i think since this is your first smoke, we’re going to go with a sativa. it’s great for easing anxiety and gives you that good head high i’ve been telling you about all these years,” he couldn’t help the fact that he was grinning wider by the minute, who could help him when he had y/n’s gorgeous eyes staring at him, her knees brushing against his every time she shifted which seemed to be more often as he started to cut up the bud on top of a worn out cassette case.

y/n watched intently and listened to eddie as if he was giving her instructions on how to save a life. you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he spoke, entranced by the way he talked about something he was truly passionate about. you always knew eddie was smart, he just wasn’t smart in the way that the world wanted him to be. he could list the strain effects from the top of his head and what papers would work best for her during her first smoke, it was a beautiful sight to see and an even more beautiful voice to listen to all day. once he had finished his weed strain 101 lesson, he started preparing the joint and you were immediately fixated on his hands, the way they moved so carefully and with such skill to get the perfect size buds, laying them in the paper and starting to roll it between his fingers. you felt like the air in the room was becoming less and less available, and when did it get so damn hot in here? you watched as eddie brought the joint up to his lips, poking his tongue out to glide the paper along and seal it.

“.. did you hear me?” eddie’s questioning tone and a tap on your knee brought you back to earth and you realised you had definitely just been staring at eddie’s tongue when he was finishing the roll, not hearing or seeing anything else in that moment. you blinked quickly, darting your gaze away from him as your brain raced to try and think of an excuse for not listening to him when there was no other noise in the room apart from the quiet hum of Judas Priest playing softly in the background, eddie knew you couldn’t always focus on two things at once if there was loud noise. “i- i’m sorry, i was just watching the way you rolled it so i can learn!” you replied, hoping eddie wouldn’t be able to pick up on anything being different with your behaviour.

it seemed to work as he nodded and flicked his lighter to give the joint his final seal of approval and he held it out in front of y/n with a ridiculous smile. “i was saying this paper is going to be the smoothest for your first time, it burns slowly and shouldn’t make you cough too much,” he explained, holding the complete joint between his fingers and holding it out to her.

you thought you were off the hook and could keep yourself composed enough to not draw any further attention to you with odd behaviour. eddie would just think you were nervous about smoking, and you definitely were but those nerves were so far back in line while thoughts about eddie’s lips and tongues pushed forward to the top, making that all you could think about. when he held out the joint to you, you lifted your hand to meet his and take the joint from him in the same way that he had held it between his fingers.

you felt the sharp cold of his rings when your hands met, but as soon as the feeling was there, it disappeared again as eddie grabbed the lighter that was on his lap. “one last time, you’re sure you want to do this? you’re not trying to impress me by turning bad?” he teased, but the question was serious. you nodded quickly in response but that wasn’t enough for eddie, he always made you use your words. “yes, eddie, i want to do this. now light it, please,” she said, leaning toward him to make him go faster and to hopefully deflect his teasing question.

eddie felt his mouth go dry when she leaned forward, the movement from her part had brought more closeness between them to the point where he could almost definitely smell her shampoo, but he could also see the slightest peek of her breasts that were held in place with a plain black bra under her loose t-shirt. “don’t rush me sweetheart, good things take time,” he said softly, bringing the lighter up to where the joint was resting between your lips, flicking his thumb to spark it. you had seen him do this before, it couldn’t be that hard, right?

wrong. as soon as you started to inhale around the joint, your lungs felt the burn almost instantly. you almost dropped the joint from your first cough but eddie was there, picking it from your fingers and placing it between his lips so he could grab the bottle of water he had near by. he opened it quickly, tossing the cap aside and holding it to your lips, “shit, babe, you didn’t have to take in that much,” he chuckled, holding your cheek as you grabbed the bottle and downed a few gulps to soothe your lungs. “fuck you,” you gasped out with a laugh when you had stopped coughing, taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears that had spilled from the corners of your eyes.

you saw eddie looking at you with utmost concern, waiting for you to catch your breath and let him know you were okay before he took his own hit from the joint. “now when did this turn from you smoking weed to fucking me?” he teased, earning himself a slap to the bicep. “eddie!” you scolded, narrowing your eyebrows at him before you snatched the joint from his hand. “my turn, i know how to do it now!” you stated confidently, straightening your back and taking a deep breath before you sucked the joint between your lips for a second time.

this hit was different, the burning wasn’t as intense and you didn’t feel like you wanted to cough up an organ. on the exhale you choked a couple of times, waving eddie away from you as he moved closer to try and help. “i’m okay, i’m good,” you assured him, your smile returning when you watched him take another hit, mesmerised completely by his lips, his fingers and the smoke that flowed so beautifully from his mouth on his exhale.

eddie felt so proud when y/n confidently took her second hit only seconds after she had almost coughed up a damn lung. he had always admired y/n from a distance, watched as she navigated day to day with what seemed like the most grace anyone could ever hold. all he wanted was to protect her from all the awful shit that he knew was out there, hold her against his chest and melt away from the rest of existence and tell her that it would all be okay, it would always be okay as long as he was around. he left his thoughts behind in favour of coming back to reality and watching the effects of the marijuana slowly take over her, it was beautiful to see her worries ease away and her head lull back to look at his ceiling.

“hey, eyes on me,” he said, bringing his hand to her chin until she lowered her gaze back to him. “let me try something,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper even though you were the only two people in the trailer. you nodded obediently, completely focussed and zoned into eddie from the feeling of his fingers on your chin. you watched curiously as eddie took another hit and you were about to tell him he had skipped your turn when he leaned closer until his nose was almost brushing yours.

you followed his lead without hesitation, your lips falling open ever so slightly which gave him enough room to slip his thumb between them and open your lips wider. your heart was about to beat out of your chest and you were sure eddie could hear it but there was no time to think about that as you felt the smoke coming from his mouth, slipping down your throat as you inhaled it. no coughing this time, it was smoother than you ever imagined smoke to be but there was no doubt that was because it came from eddie’s lips.

eddie smirked when he leaned back after y/n had exhaled, feeling satisfied with his mission. he had always waited for the perfect moment, ever since he was 14 and found that he wanted to punch any boy who dared to look at his princess, he had waited for a moment to tread the waters lightly and see if she reacted to him. now eddie was no scientist, but he concluded that there was definitely some kind of reaction from y/n when he had passed the smoke through his mouth into hers with barely an inch between them. “you did amazing, bubs,” he praised, watching carefully for her response.

you stared in bewilderment, feeling as though you were in a different world compared to just a few minutes ago. eddie’s lips had been closer to yours than ever before and the compliment he had given you with the nickname, your knees would have buckled if you were standing. you both continued to pass the joint between you for the next 10 minutes, eventually laying side by side on the mattress with minimal space between you, you could feel the heat radiating from eddie’s arms that were brushing against yours. “i feel like i’m laying on a marshmallow,” you hummed, watching eddie from the corner of your eye as he stubbed out the finished roach on the small wooden table next to his bed.

eddie chuckled, rolling back over and propping himself up on his elbow so he could hover over you slightly, scanning your features before landing on your eyes that were slightly red and very glazed over. “yeah? marshmallows are pretty soft,” he whispered, bringing his hand up that wasn’t supporting him to brush your hair back from your face. “did you enjoy it? everything you could have dreamed off and more?” he questioned, searching your eyes for any hint of regret. there was none to be found. you nodded once, a smile forming and your dimples creasing as your hand came up to rest on his shoulder. “i did enjoy it, i enjoyed you,” you said, your eyes darting between his big brown doe eyes and his soft lips.

eddie raised an eyebrow at your response, not missing your eyes going to your lips. “you’re so beautiful, princess. i’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he said, mainly reminding himself of the fact but it warmed your heart to hear him say things you had only dreamed of hearing. “i know you won’t, eds. you have always kept me safe,” you said softly, your fingertips playing with the ends of his soft hair around his shoulders. “can we cuddle? i’m tired now,” you whispered, looking up hopefully at eddie who had a shit eating grin on his face. “i knew you only wanted me for weed and cuddles,” he laughed, shaking his head as he moved to lay down next to you on his back which gave you room to tuck under his arm and rest your head on his chest. “thanks for getting me high, eddie. love you,” you mumbled, already starting to drift off with the sound of eddie’s heartbeat soothing you.

eddie smiled warmly, brushing your hair away from your eyes so he could still see you as you fell asleep within a few minutes. “first time stoners, they always do this.” he said to himself, shaking his head fondly as he closed his own eyes, simply enjoying the closeness that he had been aching for with y/n.

fin

[thebooktopus]

@sweet-s0rr0w and I had a hilarious conversation about the difficulty of making banners for people, and @maesterchill certainly came up. ice cubes. chill. get it? sigh.

MC is such a huge presence in the drarry fandom. she's always reblogging and commenting here on tumblr with so much positivity. plus, she's one of the mods for arguably one of the most popular fests in the fandom, HD-Wireless, which had its 85 author spots claimed within a few hours this year. I cannot imagine modding a fest on that scale and think that she and her fellow mod team deserve a huge round of applause for the feat!

random superlatives and recs:

prenatal class meet-cute for the win: My heart was far too glad // E // 22K // Drarry // double the mpreg, double the fun!!

squirting. choccy. knob: Eat Me // E // 11K // Drarry // MC masterfully writes Harry fellating a chocolate penis. at work. that he soon recognizes is modeled after Draco's dick. I... I'm giving this a standing ovation.

the imagery of Harry gawping at Draco's CK underwear ad in Piccadilly Square will stay with me all day: Every Day is Leg Day // E // 2K // Drarry // I should've known after reading her hand kink fic in January that I needed to seek out all other body part kink fics MC had written... my goodness. model Draco with legs for the days rocked my world.

my god the artwork on this is blew my mind: oxygen // T // 4K & art //@onbeinganangel created an embroidery rec for this one and you're going to have to go read it because i exist only as a puddle on the floor after reading this fic.

no, seriously though, her art: Do you have a warrant? // M // Drarry // the chandelier. I love the drugs just casually in the background in this work, but Draco's red eyes and teal pants are fire.

MC, I'm such a big fan! I've been loving your feedback on these posts, so a big thank you for that. I hope you're having a great day. 💚

for more info on mutuals march and/or to figure out why the hell I just wrote an ode to you, check out this post.

[pogueit]

P.H: Confession #39209

Pairing: Pope Heyward x reader

Summary: All the pogues are going away to college but will your feelings for a certain human secretions specialist go away too?

Songs: That Summer Feeling by Jonathan Richman, Gloves for garbage by Damaged Bug, Friends of P. by The Rentals

Warnings: alcohol, drug usage, swearing, going to uni, a sandflea? If there’s anything you guys would like me to take let me know!!

WC: 3,183

A/N: This is extremely overdue (this motherfucker has been in my drafts for a WHOle YEAR!!! I hope you enjoy it as always!! I appreciate feedback and requests!!!

It was the last big party before all the pogues go off to college. Sadly, the group was finally being split up, but hopefully not forever. You decided to send your ass off to go to art school in Chicago, Kie was accepted to Standford, Pope is flying to Boston University, JB is attending a community college in North Carolina, and hell they even managed to get JJ into a local trade school. It had been the best summer of your entire life, but there was one thing that weighed on your heart, you were madly in love with Pope and you've never had the guts to tell him. 

You had known each other since the third grade. You became acquainted in the principal's office after you beat the shit out of Topper for slapping a book out of Pope's hands. Both of your parents managed to hit it off too and would lend their child labor, you, to the Heywards and the Heywards would lend their child labor, Pope, to your parents whenever they needed help. You two were practically conjoined at the hip. No one ever saw one without the other. It was always Y/N and Pope or Pope and Y/N. Pope would later introduce you to JJ and John B and you would introduce all of the meatheads to Kiara. After the gang was officially formed, that's when all the mischief began and that's what you guys were known for. Always fucking shit up or blowing shit up or bringing shit to life.

You made multiple attempts throughout the summer to confess your feelings, but the boy was still as clueless as ever. Sometimes you just wanted to grab him by his shirt and scream it in his face but when you would take the first steps to do it the nerves would hold you back. Every instance always ended the same. The light would be hitting him just right or he would just be warmly staring up at you. You'd always start it off with "I have a confession to make" and you would be able to see the intrigue light up in his eyes and he'd say something along the lines of "Oh really? What is it?". You then would barf up a lame answer of "Remember when-" and continue to tell him you caught his favorite hoodie on fire and replaced it or how you'd been the one stealing his lunch that one week a hundred years ago. 

"So... Are you gonna tell 'em?" Kie asks as she tossed herself down on your bed full of clothes. She has been egging you on since summer started and has become even more persistent as summer is coming to a close.

"Please, tell me you are!" She pleads, grabbing your arms and pulling down with her onto the crummy mattress. 

"Ugh, Kie, you already know I won't" you sighed, pushing yourself into a sitting position with your legs crossed underneath you. Kiara rolled her eyes at you and mimics the same position you are in and begins tugging at the clothes she was on and folding them before she placed them in the suitcase.

You had been stalling on packing all week and now only had a day before your departure to get everything stowed away. Now, seeing your relatively empty bedroom, you started to regret your decision about going so far away. From now on everything’s going to be different and everyone’s going to change. Even the ones that say they won’t always come back a little different whether it be a new haircut or clothes you never come back exactly the same. Seeing Kiara’s concerned face you shake the feeling from your mind and begin to get to work.

After you and Kie manage to shove all your clothes into the suitcase, you motion for her to jump onto the suitcase so you can attempt to close it. 

"This is your last chance! You just gotta!" Kie followed your orders and threw herself onto it, but before you can reach for the zipper she grabbed you by your shoulders and added "You have to tell him tonight!" 

"You are supposed to be helping the pack, not annoying me!" You playfully shoved her off the suitcase and onto the bed once you seal it shut. She feigns distress, something you can only roll your eyes at.

"Whatever, loser, we have to go help the knuckleheads set up anyways" Kiara jumps off the bed and pulled you along with her to go see the boys. 

When you two got to the Boneyard it was a mess. The boys were terrorizing each other with sand and the twinkie has yet to be unloaded. 

“Guys, what the fuck!?” Kie shouted at them using her “mom” voice and they all froze in place, even you. This voice was reserved for only true fuck ups and it was the most terrifying thing anyone could ever hear. The boys exchanged questionable glances to one another before Pope started running towards JJ again, with something obviously in his hand. JJ with wide eyes booked it, running right for you and Kiara. He immediately grabbed you and used you as a human shield against whatever the hell Po was holding. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You tried to break out from his grasp as he maneuvers your body to block Pope. 

“Tell him to get the fuck away from me!” JJ cowers behind you when Pope stuck out his hand right in your face to reveal a sand flea. 

“Oh, fuck” You immediately threw yourself backward into JJ and begin to fight over who’s going to be the human shield. Both you and JJ had a fear of these little creatures, because of JJ’s dad. He told you that they will crawl into your head through your ears and eat your brain and that was enough to send you two spiraling in fear. Also, they looked gross. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” Kie huffed and left you two fumbling on the ground to go start unloading the van. 

“C’mon Pope, it isn’t funny” JB grabbed the sand flea from Pope’s hand and tossed it to the side. Finally, allowing you guys to relax on the sand.

“Or is it?” JB still had the flea and threw it at you. He doubled over in laughter watching you leap into Pope’s embrace. 

“It’s not on me is it?” you whimpered hugging him tighter. 

“No you’re good” He chuckled looking you over and dusting some sand off your back.

“You sure?” You looked up at him still not letting him go.

“I promise” Pope reassured you rubbing your back soothingly to calm you down. At that moment it came up again, should you profess your undying love for your best friend? No one was around, the waves calmly lapped against the sand, and the sun was beginning to set behind him creating a halo effect. You could feel the courage strong in your chest and you were finally ready.

"Pope, I have a confession to make" you pull away slightly so you could get a better look at his face.

"If it's that you have been stealing my--" 

“No, just listen to me, please” You promptly cut him off as the sudden courage could wear off any second. As soon as you opened your mouth to continue, Kiara’s exasperated voice rang out.

“Pope go help JJ and Y/N come here right now!” 

All the confidence you had deflated immediately.

“We’ll talk later okay?” Pope promised and you weakly nodded your head, as he gave you a quick hug before leaving reluctantly. 

Kie put you to work immediately and you were semi-grateful as it helped take your mind off of Pope. Yet, you couldn’t help but think maybe it was a sign from god to keep interrupting you in the midst of confessing your feelings? Should you just get over it and grow up?

The persistent questions weighed heavy on your heart.

“I’ll take that!” Pope swooped in and snatched the case of shitty beer from your grasp.

“Jesus!” You nearly jumped out of your skin at his sudden appearance. 

“Not him but close” He gave you a cheeky smile and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. 

“Whatever, at least let me help” You held out your hand and did the grabby hand motion. Pope skeptically thought about it for a second before nodding his head and letting you hold the other end of the beer case. On your walk back to the party, Pope told you about some of the people who showed up and who’s going to what university. Between his little quips and watching the sea of people interacting with one another, a familiar uneasiness washed over you. 

“Is it too late to go to school here?” You stopped in your tracks, suddenly, as the feeling became overbearing. 

“Woah, Woah” He took the end that you were holding and set the case down on the sand “What are you talking about?” His hands landed on your shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know I just---” You could feel your heart rate start to pick up and your breathing becomes more distressed. 

"You're gonna kick ass in Chicago, Y/N'' Pope quickly regained your attention and pulled you into his signature "Security Hug" to ground you. He'd been the one to encourage you enough to actually submit your portfolio to them in the first place because he knew how much you wanted to go. All you needed was a little push. You were glad that he did, but now seeing everyone for potentially the last time had sent you into a spiral. He rubbed your back in slow circular patterns while whispering reassuring words into your ear. 

“Thanks, Po” you smiled at him. An overwhelming urge to kiss him suddenly settled within you.

“No worries, that’s why I’m here” the way his face scrunched up into a smile made the feeling intensify and you finally decided to let your actions speak for themselves. You were halfway into connecting your lips to his when a whirlwind of guys from his AP Chemistry class pulled him away and left you awkwardly leaning forward with slightly puckered lips. He caught your eyes and gave you an apologetic look. You were riddled with embarrassment and now you could only hope that you could wash it away with a couple of hundred shots.

“Did you tell him yet?” 

You were downing your third cup of god-awful beer when the voice startled you. It made you accidentally inhale the remaining liquid which promptly sent you into a coughing fit.

“Oh my god! John B!” You finally managed to say after the coughing and his amused laughter subsided. “And no I didn’t-- How did you--” You could barely finish your sentence before you both shared a knowing look.

“Kiara,” you said in unison and buried your face into the beer-infused palms of your hands. JB threw an arm over your shoulders and roughly brought you closer to him.

“There, there, kid. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s actually kinda cute?” 

“I’m older than you” You try, to no avail, to break away from his sweaty embrace “You think anyone else knows?” you stood crushed to his side.

“Oh yeah, the whole island has known since like… Forever” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but groan.

“Does he know?” He loosened his grip around you and reached around you to get himself another drink. 

“Fuck no, he knows shit but he doesn’t know shit, y’know like me or J” He surveyed the crowd. You could tell he was looking for a distraction. The poor boy was taking the breakup with the kook princess pretty hard.

“Smooth, JB, smooth” You rolled your eyes at the brunette and gave him a playful jab with your elbow. His gaze was soon caught by a girl with faded purple hair and you knew you already lost him. 

“Just take your time and only do it if you’re comfortable, yeah?” His voice became distant as his mind was already somewhere else. The girl dared JB to make a move and with that, he gave you a half-hearted pat on your shoulder before trailing after the vacationer.

“Thanks a lot, bird shit” you called after him and he flipped you the bird without sparing you a second glance. Asshole. You had hoped that the alcohol would have kicked in by now, but you were still painfully sober. The alcohol in your system did nothing to soothe your nerves so you sought help from your favorite salt-lifer. 

The sun was almost gone now as you fought your way through the crowd. The only remnants of the sun left were barely visible in the glowing water. You didn’t think looking for him would be difficult but you were always out to disappoint yourself. The search for the golden boy got increasingly confusing as each person you asked about JJ’s whereabouts pointed you in a new direction. Out of frustration, you let yourself slump against one of the many logs that were strewn about. Your eyes lazily moved from one vaguely familiar face to another. It wasn’t until a while later that you caught sight of Pope. He sat on top of a pile of trees as he talked at length to a girl sitting too close to comfort next to him. You could feel the familiar pull at your stomach as you watched his face contour into laugher at whatever the girl said. It was only for a second though as a wave of determination washed over you. It wasn’t strong enough to send you marching over there, but it was enough to spring you into finding JJ again. This time it didn’t take long. He was cooly leaning against one of the dead trunks trying to act nonchalant while he chatted with a cute redhead.

"I need a hit" you mumbled in JJ's ear. You cowered behind his massive frame to try and not distract him too much from his ongoing conversation. Yet, the touron he was talking to still did not seem pleased at your sneaky attempts.

"What for?" He quickly whispered back trying to keep most of his attention on the person in front of him.

"I'm nervous" you wring your hands in an attempt to ease yourself.

"About what? Wait are you--" he quickly spun around shifting his entire attention to you and away from the touron.

"Yeah…” You kick around some of the sand at your feet failing to meet his gaze.

“Oh my god! Dude, Finally!” JJ laughed and threw you into a hug. He seems to be giddier about this than you were. “God, I’m so proud of you right now!” He continued and pulled away from you to rummage around in his pockets. The touron made a sly attempt to regain JJ’s attention but failed miserably. You gave them an apologetic glance, but they only rolled their eyes at you. Once he found his trusty vape pen, that you all collectively deemed the “flash drive”, he tossed it to you. The inhaled smoke in your lungs felt familiar yet foreign as your lungs grew to accept each new puff. You could feel the pit in your stomach relax by your last puff and you handed it back to him. 

“I just saw him head over to the twinkie, so you better go make your move, shithead” He put the flash drive in between his lips as he quickly straightened your shirt and tousled your hair.

“Thanks, dude”

“Whatever, now go make us proud” and with that, he pushed you in the twinkie’s general direction.

When you finally fought your way through the crowd you saw Pope sprawled out on top of the vehicle. 

"Hey, Poe" you greeted him once you got yourself on the roof of the van. He gathered his limbs and scooched over to make some room for you to lay down. The cool metal arose goosebumps all over your bare skin as you laid down. While the flash drive immensely drove away the nerves, you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t want to see his face when he tells you he doesn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, have a confession to make and I promise this is the last one” you kept your eyes focused on the abyss that held the night sky.

“Yeah? What is it this time?” He rolled over to face you; he sounded tired from the Boneyard party. You took in a deep breath and prayed to your ancestors that you weren't about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

“I fucking love you. I have loved you ever since we got sent to the principal’s office in the third grade and--- and I felt like I needed to tell you before I leave tomorrow.” You could tell he was expecting something humorous as he laid beside you wide-eyed. His silence was overbearing and was beginning to fray away at the little confidence you had the longer it went on. 

“Like, I totally get if you don’t feel the same I just...” You cut yourself off when the view of the stars above you was blocked by Pope as he leaned over you. He then tenderly connected his lips to yours and you more than eagerly kissed him back. Your hands immediately went around his neck to bring him closer. It was sweet and delicate. It was something you longed for and it was absolutely everything you could have even dreamed of. It was cruelly interrupted though by the bickering that surrounded the twinkie. 

“Can you see anything?” JJ’s voice rang loud and clear.

“Shut up!” Kie hissed back at him and they still had the audacity to act surprised when your and Pope’s head came into view on Kiara’s phone.

“What the fuck you guys!” You shouted exasperated at them for ruining the idyllic moment that you’ve waited so long for.

“What? We just wanted to see if you made your move, but I guess---” You cut him off by throwing your jacket at him.

“I can’t believe you guys would stoop this low” Pope scoffed as he jumped off the roof of the van. He quickly turned around and helped you get off safely. 

“Whatever, love birds” Kie snickered and tossed your jacket back to you before she ran off towards the party with JJ. Pope pulled the van’s side door open and plopped himself on the carpeted floor.

"Y’know, I did think all those confessions did mean something” he chuckled as he leaned against one of the back seats.

“Yeah, right!” you rolled your eyes with a smile before crawling over to Pope and making yourself comfortable on his lap. “How about we give this another shot, shall we?” you continued and wrapped your arms around his neck once again. Pope answered by eagerly rolling the rusted door closed.

[atozfic]

overdrive.

pairing. kim hongjoong x fem!reader.

synopsis. a lonely artist finds himself in need of some human contact, so he joins a dating app but with a very specific request: he doesn’t want a relationship, he wants the experience of one. when someone contacts him, interested and willing to aid him in his search for artistic inspiration, the rules quickly become simple: no real names, no personal details, no feelings. so what the hell is kim hongjoong supposed to do when he catches himself daydreaming about their future together?- or, can you fall in love with a stranger?

warnings. strangers to lovers, fake dating au (kinda?), artist!hongjoong, aged up!ateez (irl age + 5 years), angst, fluff,heavy themes of mental health, depictions of depression, trauma and anxiety, brief mentions of cheating, death, bullying, drugs and alcohol, way too many attempts at humour. smut: dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, nipple play, hair pulling, dirty talk, finger-sucking, spit used as lube, use of the word “doll”, unprotected sex, penetrative sex. 

word count. 17.8k

hyde’s input. this fic is my baby. i love it with my whole heart. it’s been in the making long before i even opened this account. all it took was listening to overdrive by conan gray once and this entire monster of a fic started to unravel in my brain. any feedback is appreciated, same goes for any like or simple reblog! if there’s any spelling mistakes, look the other way: this is 17.8k, i’ve re-read it ten times, i’m sorry!

“I don't know what you're on about, dude. It looks pretty good to me.”

Praise and positive reviews were not what Hongjoong wanted to hear. In fact, all he wanted to do in that moment was kick his own foot through the tainted canvas, until no sign remained of the painting he'd finished in the early hours of the morning; to drench the palette in whatever alcohol he could find laying around the messy studio and light it up into flames.

“I've seen your child make a finger painting better than this. Don't lie to me, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong groaned, slouching back in a huff as he melted further into the old leathered sofa. His head tilted back and his eyes snapped shut whilst he inhaled deeply, the offensive smell of fresh paint entering his system.

“I can't help it!” The other male exclaimed and Hongjoong could perfectly picture how he threw his hands up into the air in self-defence, eyes wide and a smile threatening to make itself known. “Being your friend comes way before being your agent, I can't help but be biased!”

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped open. “I literally pay you to not be biased!”

“Yeah, well, I think we've already established that you make mistakes.” With a sheepish smile, the older male gestured towards the canvas and Hongjoong couldn't even find it within himself to try and disagree.

He really had gambled on the fact that this one piece would turn out the way he wanted it to. The truth was, he'd known deep down the work wouldn't turn out well. Through the months of working at it, he kept his optimism up and repeated how if he just added a few more shades, a few more details, the painting would magically morph itself into exactly what he wanted from it. And now he was less than five months away from his submission deadline and missing one painting from his collection. The one which he'd promised himself would be the real kicker, the centre piece, the main character of the exhibition.

“This is hopeless, Hwa!” Sulking came easier than inspiration to the petite artist as of late, a fact which depressed him a little more than he'd ever let another person know. “I don't get what I'm missing here. The concept is so basic yet, every time I go to press brush to canvas, it's like I'm faced with a foreign language and telling myself that if I just stare a little longer, the letters will figure themselves out and I'll miraculously become fluent.”

“Because you're not feeling it, Hongjoong.”

“Feeling what?”

“The concept.” When the taller male was met with nothing but a blank expression, he gestured around with his hand and continued. “Moving on. I mean, you've been single for, what now? Sixteen months? And in that whole time, you've not even entertained the idea of meeting someone new, or even just going on a date.”

“Forgive me for not rushing to throw myself back into a relationship after my last one.” Hongjoong always hated when he failed to control his darker feelings, hating to expose how weak he actually was to things like anger, sadness, depression.

It's why he turned to art in the first place, during his teenage years, which were plagued with awful and painful experiences. Rather than facing them head-on, Hongjoong melted his emotions into colours, presented them on a plain background and worked his way into a scholarship. And, so, that's how it had always been for him. He never had to talk his feelings out, he just painted and others took what they could understand from it.

The leather squeaked under the new pressure of Seonghwa sitting next to him. Hongjoong's eyes shot to the male's lap, where he could see his friend nervously fidgeting with the ring on his left hand. Whatever Seonghwa was about to say next, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

“Look, I get it. I know how hurt you were after things ended between you and...” She'd become the Voldemort of his life, everyone else around him refusing to utter her name out loud and all treating him like the fragile child who'd survived her attack and came out alive with nothing but a scar. Only, his scar was less lightning shaped and more like a cracked heart. “But don't you think it's time you try move on? You're letting... her effect you more than she deserves to. She wasn't the one for you but someone, somewhere, is. You're not going to meet them in here, you need to be outside, experiencing life, waiting for the moment you both cross paths.”

Hongjoong had always envied Seonghwa and his hopeful attitude towards love.

Of course he didn't understand, even if he claimed to. Seonghwa had never even experienced a break up, never mind heartbreak. He met the love of his life at the age of fifteen and married her at the age of twenty five, welcoming their first child together not even a year after.

“Chae wanted me to ask you if maybe you'd consider meeting a girl from her faculty.” Ah, there it was. The whole reason Seonghwa had even brought up his love life in the first place. “She's really sweet! And she's new to the city. And Chae figured, since you know all the best places here out of all of us, you'd be a great tour guide.”

“San literally works in real estate, Hwa. His job is knowing this city like the back of his hand.”

“San is also happily engaged. Come on, what is there to lose? One date, that's all I'm asking you to try.” Seonghwa whined, reminding Hongjoong of the man's child. “You need to start living life again, dude. Because this life of self pity isn't working out for you anymore, it's beginning to affect your career. Just put yourself out there and, if it goes shit, you can blame me.”

“Oh, I'll do more than blame you.”

“So, does that mean you're agreeing to it?”

Hongjoong sighed, pushing himself to stand up from the couch, his hands stinging from the dried paint and his muscles aching with the need for a warm shower. Eyeing the repulsive piece once more, he mentally cursed Seonghwa for playing the career card. He couldn't pretend the man didn't have a point, his art was in need of a new muse, sooner rather than later if he intended to not be a one hit wonder.

“Only because I really need to make that deadline.”

The evening should have been nothing short from perfect: a fresh bouquet handed to her at her front door, a pleasant evening stroll to the restaurant, a mouth-watering meal, not a moment of uncomfortable silence between the two of them. So, why did Hongjoong feel like something was missing?

It was somehow nothing and, yet, everything personal. His date, who he'd forgotten the name of two hours into the night and was now doing his best to avoid having to say it, was by all means conventionally attractive. She had a strong sense of self, the kind of woman he pictured his mother wanting for him. From the many stories she'd shared through the evening, he could tell she loved her job just as much as she loved to talk. They could work as a couple, theoretically. Hongjoong wasn't quite the talker- unless the topic of conversation pertained to one of his obscure, niche interests-, whereas she looked like she could talk for the whole republic of Korea. Her clothing was loud, colourful, a reflection of her personality. Meanwhile, his were dark, plain. She was a social butterfly, he was a solitary caterpillar.

If opposites truly did attract, she would have been his soulmate.

Hongjoong was the issue, though. Or, at least that's what he thought of himself. There he was, on a date with a beautiful woman who was doing her best in life, thriving both socially and in her career. Meanwhile, he was a burnt out artist who rarely found the motivation to wash his hair and had seven friends, only one which he'd actually gone out of his way to make himself and that was in high school. He felt irritated by her perfection, by his inability to have his life put together in that same way. Only a few years away from hitting thirty, and what did he have to show for himself? A single exhibition in his whole career and a one bedroom apartment he'd been living in since college? The girl across from him deserved better than what he had to offer.

“...long story short, that's why Chaeyoung found me crying in the toilet on my first day.” Her flirtatious laughter attracted stares from surrounding tables. None malicious but all wondering why the poor girl's date seemed so miserable in the presence of someone so bubbly. “Speaking of toilets, I'm just going to go freshen up. Don't miss me too much.”

“No promises.” He smiled up at her when she rose from her seat, the guilt in the pit of his stomach growing heavier with each passing second.

As she disappeared from sight, Hongjoong sighed. Out of relief, sadness, exhaustion? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The events of the evening were pushed aside as he let his eyes trail around the restaurant's interior. The whole place had been refurbished since the last time he'd been.

The last time he'd stepped foot in the restaurant, the whole place was made up of different shades of blue. The walls, the seats, the tablecloths. Walking in felt like being slapped in the face by a raging ocean. When it came to his art, he hated the colour blue. But he'd put up with it in that restaurant because she always liked the service there.

Now, the restaurant had changed hands and the new owner clearly had a more minimalistic approach to things. The walls were a mirage of beige, an elegant design printed on the selected wallpaper. The furniture was a combination of black metals and wooden tops and, where a bunch of cheap chandeliers had once hung, a selection of fairy lights entwined with strings of fake leaves rested above everyone's head. If Hongjoong tried hard enough, he could picture his ex sat across from him in that moment, nose turned up while she failed to quietly bash the rugged look of the restaurant.

Clearing his throat, Hongjoong finished off the remnants of his drink. He figured taking this time to ask for the bill was the least he could do. His date had put in all the effort of conversation, he should be the one to cover the cost of the evening. Between waiting for the bill, and waiting for his date to return, his eyes drifted across the room to another couple.

It wasn't the girl's striking beauty nor the male's loud booming laughter that had caught his interest. It was the way they seemed the opposite of him and his date: the girl looked bored to death and the man seemed to only pause from talking to shovel a fork full of pasta into his mouth, not even waiting to swallow before speaking again. Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, hands occupying themselves with his napkin, more than sure that he was seeing exactly what other customers had seen when they looked at him and his date.

In another life, where everything was a rom-com and romance wasn't the root of all misery, Hongjoong would believe this girl was his soulmate, both of them destined to meet at the bar as they attempted to escape their talkative dates- who would likely be destined to meet that same evening too. Maybe they'd have a joint wedding, all laughing when they thought of the times they'd tried to end up with the other's spouse.

Instead of heading to the bar, Hongjoong payed the bill and, when his date returned, they both walked out of the restaurant; her a few steps ahead of him while he took one last glance at the opposite couple.

The walk back to her place was a little less awkward for Hongjoong than the rest of the evening, the prospect of finally being able to go back to the safe place that was his apartment giving him a buzz of energy. She'd asked him questions about the city, mostly just about the best places to go for specific things, and he'd answered her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket while hers swung freely at her side. Every couple of swings, he'd wonder if she was waiting for him to take a hold of it, intertwine his fingers with her own.

They arrived at her door and the echo of the nightlife around them was starting to pick up, people just beginning their evening together while they two were bringing theirs to an end.

“Thanks for tonight. I really... appreciated your company,” He internally groaned. He sounded like he was closing a business meeting, not saying goodnight to a girl he'd just went out with. “you're a really nice girl. It's been nice meeting you.”

“It was really nice meeting you too!” There it was again, that twinge of hatred towards her. She was just so happy, Hongjoong envied her.

“I'm really sorry for wasting your time.” A hand shot up to rub at the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the bottom of the mullet he'd grown in the months of heartbreak. “I'm just, not really looking for anything with anyone right now? It's nothing personal.”

“Hey, no worries! In all honesty, this was more about just going out in the city. It's not easy being the new kid in town!” The smile never faltered from her face, not even at her next words. “Chaeyoung may or may have not explained a little bit of your situation to me and, I know my opinion as a stranger might mean nothing to you, and I totally respect that, but let me just say this. I think you're a really nice guy. A cool guy, with a lot to offer. You just seem to have forgotten who that guy is, which is a shame. I'd really like to be friends with him.”

“I,” He paused, a little stunned and unsure of what he should say. He'd been told similar things from friends, and it was easy to brush off. But, coming from this girl who barely knew him yet had read him so easily? It was hard. “yeah. I'm trying to remember, I think. Thanks for saying that. And for tonight. Hopefully you don't mind being stuck being friends with whoever I am right now.”

A colourful string of curses pierced the air of the apartment. Hongjoong pulled back from the sizzling pan, wishing he could punch the him from ten minutes ago who thought it was a smart idea to cook bacon in nothing but his underwear.

Growing into his own skin was something that had taken him years to achieve. He'd always been on the shorter end of height amongst those in his class, which hadn't helped with the singled-out bullying he endured in his formative years. There's only so many times a person, especially an impressionable teenager, needs to be told their supposed short-comings before they begin to believe it's all that defines them. He'd learnt to love himself through watching her love him, following in her footsteps like a baby duck followed it's mother. Out of everything the relationship had left him with- the heartbreak, the trust issues, the betrayal- he was happy it had brought him self-love.

The self-love that made him confident enough to lounge around in his boxers though? Yeah, that could get lost, as far as he was concerned.

His ringtone began to play, to which the already frustrated, and admittedly sleep deprived, Hongjoong groaned as he walked around the kitchen island into the living area. Like always, he found the damned device buried within the creases of his couch.

Seonghwa was calling him.

Hongjoong hit decline.

It was ten minutes past noon, he'd barely been awake for half an hour and his skin had already been tainted with burns from the oil spat at him by his pan. There was not a chance in hell, purgatory or heaven that he was about to answer and listen to his friend barrage him with questions about how the date went. Hongjoong wasn't ready to listen to the hopeless romantic in Park Seonghwa try to find moments of hope in the terribly mundane evening him and the girl had shared.

No second date would be happening, a fact which comforted Hongjoong. A weight had been removed from his chest, that sinking feeling gone. The accomplishment of having done what Seonghwa had asked of him, no matter the end result, was a small success in his books, a step in the right direction out of his cycle of misery. However, that one step didn't mean he was ready to run a marathon.

If Hongjoong really was going to walk the path back to his old self, or carve a new one, he'd be doing it on his own terms and at his own pace.

The influx of buzzing from his phone took his attention once again, this time coming from a familiar group chat. Hongjoong had told himself to mute it yet always forgot to.

[12:11 pm] wooshit: istg she's left me with 6 pulled muscles and a broken bed, best sex i've had in a long time.

Jung Wooyoung was one of those friends he hadn't gone out of his way to make but, rather, he just turned up one day in Hongjoong's life, slapping him on the ass and asking him if he would mind painting a nude portrait of him.

[12:13 pm] yeolo: you say that every time you have sex.

[12:14 pm] wooshit: kang yeosang stop being salty about me getting my dick wet challenge: failed.

Yeosang had been the one to blame for introducing Wooyoung to the group and, though he too was technically someone who simply showed up one day, Hongjoong had shared a class with him during college days.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: honey, we need to stop befriending these hets like we're a charity.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: oh shit.

[12:16 pm] yunhoe: did i send that here?

[12:17 pm] minki: yeah, but you're right.

[12:17 pm] minki: from now on, you guys need to pay for the service of our company.

Then there was Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi, yet another golden couple in Hongjoong's life. Like Seonghwa and his wife, they'd met in school, the only difference being that they never fully accepted their feelings for each other until much later. They were the first new additions to Hongjoong and Seonghwa's life, the four sticking together after ending up sharing a dorm.

[12:22 pm] wooshit: i don't even pay for netflix, what makes you think i'd pay for you?

[12:23 pm] yeolo: idk how he keeps accessing my account, i've changed my password over six times!

[12:23 pm] jongno: adding another number at the end of hehet doesn't count as changing your password, yeo.

The latest friend among them all, Choi Jongho, was dragged into their mess by Seonghwa, who'd contacted him about singing at his wedding. Somehow, the night had ended with the lot of them embarrassing themselves on the mic during various rounds of drunken karaoke, while Chaeyoung looked on, unamused by her new husband's antics.

[12:26 pm] sanwitch: am i the only one still wondering how tf woo convinces these women to sleep with him?

If there were a voice of reason among them all, it certainly wasn't San. After meeting his fiancé, he'd tried to play off like he'd matured but they all knew he was still Wooyoung's double, one half of their dumb and dumber act.

[12:27 pm] wooshit: i don't appreciate your tone.

[12:28 pm] wooshit: i'm a suave casanova. a modern gentleman. ladies fall at my feet when i wink.

[12:29 pm] yeolo: he's on a hook up app.

[12:29 pm] wooshit: hate it here.

[12:30 pm] wooshit: it's not a hook up app, it's a dating app. the best one, actually.

[12:30 pm] yeolo: a dating app for horny singles.

[12:31 pm] wooshit: hey! horny singles want love too!

[12:34 pm] minki: what's so good about it anyway?

[12:36 pm] wooshit: i'm glad you asked, mingles.

[12:37 pm] yeolo: oh no, here we go.

At some point, Hongjoong had reclined himself against the arm of his couch, slowly but surely sinking into it whilst his eyes and thumbs scrolled over the screen. It wasn't like he had any intentions of join the conversation. No, that would risk Seonghwa seeing him online. The conversation was nothing special either compared to the countless other ones they'd spammed the chat with. Still, a magnetic force was pulling Hongjoong to keep reading, to pay attention.

[12:43 pm] wooshit: the app let's you choose who gets to see your private info, like your name, age, etc...

[12:43 pm] wooshit: so users just see your pictures and whatever description you write, until you approve them to see more. it's great, filters out people who're looking for anything long term.

[12:49 pm] sanwitch: isn't it weird to hook up with people and not know who they are?

[12:52 pm] yunhoe: not to mention, dangerous?

[12:53 pm] wooshit: that's the fun part!

[12:53 pm] wooshit: this is why i fear relationships.

[12:54 pm] wooshit: it's turned the two biggest man whores i knew into boring, dick/pussy whipped losers.

[12:58 pm] yeolo: wait, so what's the app called?

[13:03 pm] jongno: don't do it, yeo.

[13:05 pm] wooshit: stfu jongho.

[13:05 pm] wooshit: yeo don't listen to him, baby.

[13:06 pm] wooshit: the app's called checkmate.

[13:08 pm] jongno: can i just be the one to remind wy he's less than a year away from hitting 27?

[13:10 pm] yunhoe: don't join the dark side, yeo. you're better than that.

[13:04 pm] wooshit: yeo used to think darth vader was hot, he's always been on the dark side, yunho.

An offensive beeping rang out in the room, startling Hongjoong and sending him catapulting out of his seat, a hand clutching his chest. His heart was beating a thousand miles per minute. In a state of panic, he began to recount the safety measures she'd instilled in him for whenever the fire alarm went off. It was only once his eyes had settled on the fire extinguisher that a rather offensive smell hit his nose, his shoulders slumping in disappointment.

His bacon had burnt.

There was something he despised about arriving early to things.

For starters, it made him panic that he'd gotten the days mixed up, more often than not finding himself unlocking his phone and aiming straight for his calendar. After confirming the plans aligned with the select day, he'd check the text history with whoever he was meeting, in case he'd written it down incorrectly in his phone.

Moving on from there, Hongjoong would fall down a spiral of believing everyone in the surrounding vicinity had their eyes on him. In his mind, they were all questioning why he was alone, what was he doing, if he was just a complete loner. He solved this by occupying himself with his phone, scrolling through his gallery or aimlessly rereading conversations in the Teezers group chat.

It would soothe him for a while, until his brain found something else to worry about: being stood up. The overwhelming feeling of abandonment was something he carried close to his heart, sneaking out at the minimum sign of someone not arriving for an arranged meeting. There were times, when he'd arrive first out of the Teezers, that his own fear was strong enough to convince himself that all seven of the boys had collectively agreed to not meet up and to leave Hongjoong waiting.

Right now, he was experiencing the second stage.

With half a cup of coffee left and a shredded napkin in his anxious hands, Hongjoong was doing his best to limit the number of times his eyes wandered over to the entry of the café. Eventually, the napkin was replaced by his phone, cringing as he forgot to turn his volume down before he opened the app. He would be more than ashamed if someone in the café recognized the app's signature tune, fearing the judgement he'd receive for being on such a site.

Hongjoong hadn't told anyone he'd joined Checkmate, not even his friends. Was it partially out of fear of judgement? Yes, the judgement from finding out the real reason he'd signed up.

Two weeks had passed since he'd set up his profile and he was still blaming it on a moment of weakness, born from lack of sleep, mild dehydration and the paint fumes he'd been inhaling indirectly all day in his studio. The feeling of needing a new muse returned to him, stronger than any previous time. Without much thought, Hongjoong had unlocked his phone, memories of Wooyoung and his self-proclaimed "best dating app" at the front of his mind. And, though Hongjoong had always despised the concept of a dating app- he much preferred the old fashioned way of falling in love, the artist in him seeking out that moment of fate where one gazed across a room and caught the sight of someone magnetic, someone they needed to meet-, the app was ideal for what he wanted.

He squirmed in his seat, turning the brightness of his screen down as his dating profile flashed onto it. He'd uploaded exactly three images of himself: one of him sat in a car, adorned with a beret and a camera in hand; another taken of him across a table, back when his hair was red and his eyes were happier; the last was a selfie he'd taken in an elevator with his face covered by a mask, he'd hoped it wasn't too obvious his ex had been cropped out of it.

Taking another sip of his coffee, Hongjoong grimaced as he read over his profile description.

this may sound strange but i'm not looking for a relationship or a casual hook-up. what i really need is someone to experience things with, experiences that my friends are too exhausting to give me and my family is too judgemental. i don't want to know you, and i don't want you to know me. i just want us to live a few moments together, as strangers. call them dates if you want, i don't care. maybe you don't understand what i'm asking for, maybe you think this sounds like a scam that ends with you dead. that's fine, you're not the person for the job, please move on from my profile. but, maybe you're like me and the past months have been you living in autopilot, waking up because you have to, not because you want to. maybe your friends are just like mine and they've told you to put yourself out there more or that they miss the old you. this is both of our chances to change that, to be our old selves again or become a newer, better version. if that's the case, message me but don't let me see your private info. be my stranger.

Given it's contents, he was amazed anyone had messaged him. Maybe he'd been hoping to get no response. He'd be able to remain sedated with the fact he'd tried, leaving him the perfect excuse to not do so again for a while.

But someone had replied. The person, from the few pictures Hongjoong had been permitted to view on their profile, was beautiful. To others, the word beauty could easily hold a single meaning, a specific look. To the artist, it meant everything. He had a knack for finding hidden treasures, glimpses of rarity. His fingers had itched to portrait such a face on paper the longer he'd stared at the pictures, which both terrified and satisfied him.

He'd not even met you yet and already he'd had a surge of inspiration, even if it died a few seconds later.

The third stage of arriving early was about to commence when, much to his relief, a figure sat across from him.

There you were, nervously pulling back your own seat and placing down your to-go cup. Details about your face were different in person than in pictures but it didn't diminish your beauty. No, it rather enhanced it.

“What did you order?” Hongjoong often thought someone's choice of drink could tell you a lot about them. Like how Seonghwa ordered a cortado because he was always in a rush, or how San had the habit of getting a mocha to kill two birds with one stone: satisfy the craving for coffee and chocolate, or how he himself tended to order plain black coffee to avoid any fuss for the person serving him.

“Mango tea.” Was your reply and Hongjoong wasn't sure what to make of it. In all honesty, he hadn't known there was such a thing. He really needed to start reading the menu at these places.

“Don't drink coffee?” His question was observational. Statistically speaking, didn't most people fall under the veil of a coffee or tea person, the drink version of the good old cat or dog debate?

“Only when I'm stressing.” There was something about the way you spoke to him, like you hated the small talk just as much as he did, that had Hongjoong gripping on to everything you said. Was this what it was like to speak to himself? “Sorry, not to be rude, but could we cut to the chase? I have to be back in class in,” You paused, pulling back the denim sleeve to read your watch’s face. “seventeen minutes.”

His eyes widened at the word class, like he was personally offended by it. All rational sense left, his prone-to-panic brain doing what it done best and throwing him down a spiral of dark thoughts.

“College!” You exclaimed, hands shooting up a little, your palms on display. “College class. I'm...” You seemed hesitant to speak, halting yourself mid-sentence. You knew what the man in front of you wanted and personal information was not it. “of age. Not some high school student, I swear.”

When Hongjoong gave you no reply, you continued to speak.

“Not that it really matters. We're not going to be doing anything. But still, you don't want to be... hanging out with some kid. I get it. Me neither. Yeah, I'm a college student.”

“I believe you.” Different to his previous date, Hongjoong didn't think you were much of a talker. A nervous talker, perhaps. He could relate to that a bit more. There was a humming in his veins, his body buzzing with the thrill of sitting across from a complete stranger and not having to worry about your impression of him, if he was showing all his best qualities, intriguing you to get to know him better. There never had to be a fear of you being disappointed with what you'd find in meeting the real Kim Hongjoong. “Anyway, yeah. Let's get into it quickly so you can make it back to class.”

“Okay, so you already said in our text conversation that you don't want to know any personal information.” Hongjoong nodded, affirming your statement. “What exactly do you consider personal information?”

“Anything that defines who you are. Your age, your hobbies, your hometown. Especially your name,” He finished off the last of his coffee, doing his best to ignore the bitter taste. “It's too easy to learn everything about someone these days with just their name and access to the internet.”

“Sheesh, these days? You talk like my middle-aged father.” You seemed to catch your mistake just as it left your mouth, looking off to the side momentarily before meeting his eyes again. “Shit, sorry, you just said you didn't want to share our ages.”

Hongjoong almost wanted to laugh out of pity, seeing so much of himself reflected in you yet finding you so different all at once. “Love that you apologise for that but not for insinuating that I'm old.”

“Hey, ain't no shame in a little age. I've heard having a glucose father helps cover the costs of college.”

“Glucose... father?”

“And then you wonder why I called you old?” For the first time since you'd approached the table, he saw a wave of confidence wash over you, burning in the satisfaction of whatever diss you seemed to believe you'd handed to him. “So, if we're not getting to share names, what am I supposed to call you?”

“That's... actually a good question. I didn't think that far ahead.” Before falling asleep the night before, Hongjoong had rehearsed every possible scenario he could think of regarding how this meeting would go. Hell, he'd even prepared for if you revealed mid-way that you were an alien lifeforce! He'd miraculously skimmed over how to get past the whole name situation. “I don't know, I guess we could just tell each other fake names.”

“Or,” You drummed your hands on the table. He found it a little annoying. “we could pick out names for each other.”

“You first, then.”

Hongjoong felt the urge to sit up straight instead of his usual slouched posture at the drag of your eyes over him. It was intimidating to know you were analysing everything about him based solely on his exterior, yet it filled him with a twisted pleasure. He hoped whatever conclusion you came to about him would be incorrect, his superiority complex needing a comeback.

“Clyde.” Not a name he expected. “Cause you seem like the complete opposite of that name, but I'm also kinda suspicious that you might be some sicko waiting to make a mask out of my face.”

“Who's to say it's not you who's going to make a mask out of mine?” His eyes caught the way you checked your watch again, time running by quickly. “Then I guess I'll be calling you Bonnie, to keep things on theme.”

“Well aren't you just the little romantic?”

Hongjoong didn't want to stay in your company any longer than necessary, he really didn't. But your bus stop just happened to be in the same direction of where he'd managed to park his car. Saying goodbye at the café door only walk in the same direction would have been too painfully awkward for Hongjoong to endure, so he offered to walk you to the stop.

You both managed to come to an agreement on your schedule: every Saturday. It was the only day you had free, the rest filled with school and work. He'd felt a little guilty admitting he lacked responsibilities in that department.

Watching you walk told him more than your drink order had. You seemed to pull into yourself, shoulders kinda tight, hands in your pockets, head a little low hanging like you were watching your own steps.

Spotting the bus stop up ahead, he picked up pace. His social battery was running out, a sight no one enjoyed witnessing. But you called him to stop and, out of politeness, he felt the need to obey.

“Hold on, I'll be back in a second, I swear.”

Off you'd disappeared into a convenience store, leaving Hongjoong abandoned in the middle of the pavement. That feeling of having eyes on him returned but he survived, resisting the urge to fake being occupied by his phone. You came bustling back out, a white plastic bag at your side and a look of success on your face.

“Here, take this.” You reached into the bag, holding out a cardboard box to him. Upon inspection, he quickly realised what you'd bought. You were smarter than he'd expected, what a relief. “Now we won't even have to share our real numbers.”

Hours later, the black, clunky burner phone would buzz in Hongjoong's back pocket, a single text on the grainy screen.

from: bonnie c u on saturday, grandpa.

“Maybe this wasn't a good idea.”

Hongjoong couldn't agree with you more, a frustrated sigh falling from his lips as he struggled to pack up his stuff. In his mind, he couldn't get away from there fast enough. Momentarily, his eyes skirted over to you, satisfied to find you also packing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, not an ounce of hesitation. The look you both shared before commencing to run made it clear you were wondering the same thing.

How the hell had the date taken such a turn?

As promised, the two of you had met on a Saturday. Hongjoong picked you up from that same bus stop you'd parted ways at, figuring it was easier than finding out what other places you localled in your free time. Upon your arrival, Hongjoong did not notice the little things that had changed about you since he'd last seen you, like the way your hair was a couple shades darker or how you'd changed your phone case.

“Looking dapper, Clyde.” You'd said, taking in his outfit when you'd stepped off the bus.

He'd always prided himself on the ways he expressed himself, whether that be through his artwork, his words or his fashion sense. There'd been a time where his wardrobe was colourful, full of oddities and unique pieces, things he'd thrifted and renovated to suit his taste more. Nowadays, all the colour in his wardrobe was hidden behind piles of whites and greys and blacks. Hongjoong felt a shot of pride run through him at your comment, standing there in black cargo pants paired with a white graphic tee and a pair of faded black Doc Martins' he'd owned for a few too many years.

It felt good to be complimented still.

“I hope you don't have any allergies.” By the time you'd both sat yourselves in his car, Hongjoong was feeling a little less tense. The initial greetings with strangers was always the hardest part.

“Is that a trick question, Clyde?”

“Not at all, Bonnie. Why? And you're having a little bit too much fun calling me that, aren't you?”

“It's a cool name!” You threw your hands up in your own defence. “I thought we weren't supposed to share private info.”

“There's private information and then there's me accidentally putting your life at risk. Now answer the question.”

“And they say romance is dead.” You shifted in your seat, one hand playing with the zip of your jacket. “As long as you don't try force feed me a strawberry, we're good.”

Hongjoong didn't point out the fact you never asked him in return, not that he did have any allergies that needed pointed out. But you seemed disinterested in knowing, in caring. 

He'd picked the right person.

The car pulled up to an empty parking lot located in front of a field, a look of realization coming over you. Taking advantage of the trance you were in, Hongjoong shot out the car and made his way around to your door, effortlessly pulling it open and greeting you with a shy smile. He was hoping you liked the plans he'd made for you both. Not because he cared for your opinion, rather Hongjoong knew he needed an influx of colours to motivate him, inspire him.

And what better place to find colour than a field of blossoming flowers?

He closed the door behind you before leading you over to the boot of the car- which sparked several jokes about him murdering you and burying you in the field- and handed you a blanket before bringing out a basket. Conversation was scarce as you two ventured over the small fence and into the flowery field, the basket swinging with each of his steps and the blanket safely clutched against your chest. The smell was sweet, overwhelmingly fresh in contrast to the stiff air of Seoul.

“This looks like a good spot,” You said, coming to a stop in an empty patch surrounded by a rainbow made up of tulips. The artist in Hongjoong itched to take your picture, the sun creating the illusion of a halo above your head and the flowers a satisfying contrast to your monochromatic clothing. The person in him didn't want to carry the burden of your image in his gallery, a temptation to think of you on days that weren't Saturdays. “you agree?”

“Uh, yeah, seems fine to me.” He wanted to curse himself for taking a few moments to reply. Surely you didn't notice.

You laid the blanket down and he laid out the food: freshly cut fruit (no strawberry in sight), sandwiches without the crust (he always found the crust too dry), chocolate dipped almonds and honey drizzled pastries (he had a sweet tooth), different flavours of milk (banana was his favourite) and bottled water.

The date passed by slowly, neither of you willing to admit you were bored. It was hard to choose a topic of discussion when you weren't supposed to get to know each other, to care for what the other thought or felt. For a while, he'd told you facts about the different flowers around you until you took over and told him about different types of clouds. And then, you caved into the awkwardness.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“I don't want to.”

“It doesn't have to be true.” You stated like it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That's the beauty of this, right? We don't have to be honest with who we are. So, tell me something about yourself, whether it's the truth or a lie. I'll never know, either way.”

Hongjoong paused mid bite of the pastry, tongue darting out to lick at the excess honey on his lips. “I'm an accountant.”

“Because no one asks what you do?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, boomer.”

“I'm not a boomer! I'm probably not much older than you!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.”

Hongjoong ignored the way peach juice dribbled down your chin as you took a bite. “It's your turn.”

“My cousin is a famous idol.”

Both of you lied.

And it worked, getting the conversation flowing a bit easier. Hongjoong enjoyed lying without the consequences that usually came along with it. It was like playing a character, no longer himself but Clyde, an accountant, career booming and social circle full. It was easier to be confident when nothing was reality.

But back to the present, where both you and Hongjoong were scrambling to grab your belongings and make a beeline for his car. A buzzing followed after you both, threatening to make you pay for intruding on the bees turf, who were hungry for nectar and not happy to find a pair of strangers sat among the flowers and eating the fruit of their labour.

Suddenly the prospect of a flower field was less romantically beautiful.

“Ow, ow, shit.” Hongjoong cursed, slamming the door to his car shut. With the adrenaline dissipating, the pain of the nasty sting he'd taken to the hand made itself known.

“Here, let me drive.” You called from the backseat, urging him to hop over to the passenger's side. Hongjoong hesitated, he didn't enjoy letting other's drive his car. But the itch in his hand only grew, leading him to give in. He grunted when you nearly elbowed him in the face while dragging yourself into the front. “Next time, let's just do something indoors.”

Hongjoong had certainly been on worse dates.

The dates continued on smoothly from there, with no more run ins with wildlife and less awkward silence each time.

You chose the second location, a pottery class, in which Hongjoong tried his best to not over-perform and you just tried to at least make a shape out of some clay. The third and fourth dates were chosen by him: a visit to a planetarium and a trust-building day of canoeing, by the end of that one, you both had nearly drank the whole lake away from the number of times you'd fallen in.

One thing remained consistent throughout. Without fail, there would come a time where one of you- usually you- would prompt the question "Tell me something about yourself."

He'd lied about being into clubbing and you lied about being a smoker.

He lied about having a sister and you lied about being fluent in four languages.

When you were honest about owning a cat, Hongjoong kept up the lies with saying he preferred dogs.

The fifth date was one you'd organised, giving Hongjoong nothing but an address and the instruction to dress like a pompous aristocrat. He felt a little silly, walking the street midday in his suit and tie, but he found himself caring less than he normally would. He quite liked being Clyde. He'd even nearly put on a teal tie, but he decided he still wasn't ready and stuck to a black one.

from: bonnie meet me inside.

Pulling the door open to the building, he was admittedly ashamed of not recognising the address of the art gallery. Back in college, he'd spent hours sat in the centre of some of the larger rooms, beautiful art encasing him as he worked away at whatever project he needed to complete before midnight.

He found you near the information desk, scrolling through your phone. He'd hate to ever admit he took this moment of liberty to give you a once-over. Your beauty was nothing new to him, a few dates in now. The way it morphed into something new every time, though, that never failed to intrigue him.

“You scrub up quite nicely, Bonnie.” Hongjoong no longer felt a shake in his voice whenever you two met up. It worried him that he may be getting used to you but, the smile you gave in retaliation to his greeting didn't worry him,

He actually liked it.

The two of you ventured through the gallery, shoulder to shoulder. You'd stare at the art and he would stare at you. For no reason other than he had seen these pieces all plenty of times, more than he'd seen you.

Hongjoong smiled, thinking of how wonderful it was to see someone experiencing the art for the first time. That smile faltered when you both came to a stop in front of a familiar painting. A portrait of a woman, naked skin tangled with rose vines and face stoic..

If only the thorns dug more into her skin, enough to draw blood, it would have satisfied him.

“This one makes me sad.” You spoke, unknowingly quenching some of the fiery anger burning up in him. He'd forgotten this piece was even hung here.

“Why?” He knew why it made him sad, but you? He couldn't understand. The painting was a supposed demonstration of love, a declaration of affection.

“It reminds me of unrequited love.” You took his lack of response as your sign to continue, clearing your throat. “It's like a shrine, or an artsy version of putting her up on a pedestal. Even it's name, Aphrodite's champion. It's like the artist is worshipping her like a goddess.”

He felt a lump swelling in his throat the more you spoke, the memories of her walking out on him playing out in his head. How she'd revealed her lies to him, stripped him away of his sanity, gaslit him into thinking he'd pushed her to the point of infidelity. It took many drunken nights in Seonghwa's company to get it through his head that nothing he'd done could ever excuse the way she treated him.

“I feel sorry for whoever the artist Kim Hongjoong is. They deserve better.”

He'd managed to make it to the bathroom in time for the first tear falling, you none-the-wiser to the emotional fractures ripping him apart in the tiny stall.

The sixth date went better.

He was relieved by the time Saturday arrived, his week filled with nothing but stress and heartache. On the Monday, Seonghwa had invited himself into his apartment, finding his friend dishevelled and puffy eyed in his studio room, an empty canvas in front of him and a paper scribbled with ideas in his hand. Wednesday saw the unexpected visit of his mother, which always went down a treat for him. On Thursday, he drank away the day that should've been his and his ex's fifth anniversary. By the time Friday had rolled around, Hongjoong started working, for the second time, on the final piece of his collection.

The reopening of his wounds had at least served some purpose.

Every other week so far, Saturday had been the day he dreaded. The day he had to mentally prepare for, the few hours of social interaction exhausting him. But the sixth Saturday was his saviour.

The day couldn't have gone better: he'd woken up early; he'd hummed along to the radio while cooking breakfast; he’d spent the afternoon painting, till his back ached and his fingers were cramped; he’d contemplated a hair cut but decided against it. And, when he'd stepped out the door that evening, twirling his keys on his finger, Hongjoong slipped on a red jacket.

“I can't believe drive-in cinema's are still a thing!” You exclaimed again, still in disbelief of where Hongjoong had brought you. His hands itched to reach up and wipe the mustard off the side of your mouth. Your napkin done it before he could lose his composure.

He nodded, mouth full of nachos. He was regretting asking for extra jalapeños, his tongue beginning to tingle. You, on the other hand, were smarter than him and stuck to a hotdog. As he swallowed, a tortilla chip scratched at his throat, leaving him coughing for a couple of seconds. “What, no joke about me being as old as the concept of drive-ins?”

“It's only a joke if you find it funny.”

“Who says I don't?”

“You've never laughed before at my jokes.”

“There's a first time for everything.”

The parking lot wasn't ridiculously busy. If Hongjoong had to, he would have guessed there was between ten to fifteen other cars apart from you two. A car to the left of his, four parking spaces between them, harboured what looked like two teenagers, one straddling the other's lap while they both took part in a dance of tongues and wandering hands.

Hongjoong believed their money would have been better spent on a motel room than the drive-in.

“What are we watching, anyway?” You piped up again after a while of comfortable silence, the radio softly playing a mix of early 2000s pop while you waited for the movie to play. He watched you sip from your cup, fingers drumming along to the beat coming through the speakers. Hongjoong liked it.

“Jurassic Park.”

“A movie about a group of prehistoric reptiles?” He'd expected the reaction you'd given him but that didn't make it any easier to suppress his smile at the sound of you laughing, cheeks puffed up from the stretch of your lips. “Isn't that based on your autobiography?”

Finally, he let laughter rip through his lungs, melodic waves of sound spreading in the small space of the vehicle. He was too lost in his own amusement to notice how your own laughter had died down or how you stared at him in content. Hongjoong really did look much better with a smile on his face, but you kept that thought to yourself out of fear of ruining the moment.

“Sorry Clyde, you just make it too easy for me.”

Once the movie started, the talking stopped, nothing but the sound of the characters pulsing through the speakers and the crunch of pop-corn. Your eyes hadn't left the screen once, sparkling a little with the bright reflection of the screen. Hongjoong, on the other hand, struggled to keep himself concentrated. His eyes were restless: watching the screen, watching you, watching the other cars, watching the sky, watching you, watching the pedals at his feet, watching you, watching you, watching you.

He craved your attention.

“Tell me something about you, Bonnie.” His whispered words had your eyes on him at last. You didn't seem bothered by the way he was interrupting the movie. Instead, you reached to turn down the radio.

“I hate the spelling of the word Wednesday.” You shifted yourself in your seat, leaning closer to him. His stomach turned at the smell of your perfume, lingering on his senses and threatening to get him hooked on it. “It's just so ugly looking, don't you agree?”

“Hmm...” Hongjoong had to spell it mentally, visualising all the times he'd written it in the corner of middle-school notebooks. “I get what you mean. It looks like it has more letters than it needs, kinda cramped?”

“Yes! Exactly! It's only got two e's but that somehow feels like too many.” Was he proud because he managed to relate to someone or because that someone was you? “Your turn, Clyde.”

“I hate the colour blue.”

“That's strange.” You didn't seem to be judging him, just commenting on it.

“You think?”

You hummed in approval, sipping the remnants of your drink. “Worldwide, that's the colour most people favour.”

“And yet the colour is associated with the feeling of sadness. Says more about everyone else than it does about me, wouldn't you agree?”

The radio was shortly turned back up. His eyes were more calm this time, only occasionally drifting over to where you were sat. Until he felt something drop against him. He found you, eyes shut by sleep.

You needed a place to rest your head and he let you have him, finding comfort in the weight of you on his shoulder.

Hongjoong couldn't stand hospitals.

They smelt like bleach coloured death and words left unsaid and fading heartbeats. The lights were too bright, like they were trying to mimic the light one sees at the end of the tunnel. Everything was used and touched and tainted by another person, yet things were presented as brand new and never used. For him, every inch of the building brought on a kaleidoscope of memories of the final months before his passing, before his mother was left spouseless and his older brother took over the role of man of the house, and Hongjoong turned to paint brushes and abstract emotions.

In his first ever therapy session- one he'd only attended at her request-, they'd quickly gotten on to the topic of his father. It wasn't a shock for him to realise his depressive days had began after his death, making him wonder why he was paying this stranger to tell him things he already knew.

Sighing, he brushed aside the unwanted memories and tightened his grip on the crutches, making his way out of the consultation office and back into the lobby, a prescription tucked into his back pocket. The pain in his ankle diminished slightly the second he caught sight of you, biting down on the tip of your pen and caught in a trance staring at your crossword. There was a strand of straw caught amongst your hair but you seemed none-the-wiser.

He pulled it out when he was close enough, smiling down at you sheepishly while you pushed the magazine to the side, eyes shooting down to his ankle.

“Well?” You asked expectantly.

“It's not broken.” You sighed in relief. “It just took some shock upon impact, so it's a little sensitive. Should heal up in a few days, but I've to come back if the pain worsens at any point.”

“So you won't be suing me for damages?”

“No!” He chuckled in disbelief. You'd stood yourself up and you both were now making your way through the lobby of the hospital. It was endearing to see you walk slower for him to keep up. “Why would I sue you, Bonnie?”

He'd started to use your false name more. Was it to stop himself from asking for your real one? To remind himself this wasn't real?

“You're hurt because of me! I knew horseback riding was too risky for your old bones, should've just taken you to the zoo like I originally planned.”

“I don't like zoos.” An elderly couple pointed towards you two as you passed them. Hongjoong wanted to know what they thought of you both. “Besides, I had fun today. Especially when your horse stopped to take a massive dump mid-way through the trail and then ate grass for about five minutes. Watching you struggle to get it moving again was the highlight of my week!”

“Oh haha, very funny. Starting to think you falling off your horse was just karma for enjoying my suffering.”

The sun was barely up anymore, hues of dark orange setting fire to the sky while the sun slowly disappeared for the day. Hongjoong wondered if you could feel the cold the same way he could. When you'd both met in the morning, it was much warmer and neither of you predicted you would still be together so late into the day.

“Did you get a hold of your friend?” Hongjoong shook his head at your question. He'd messaged Seonghwa after the doctor had given him the all clear, knowing that he wasn't capable of driving himself home.

“He's busy, stuck with his in-laws for the night.” He knew there were others he could have asked to help him, like the rest of the boys in the group chat. For some reason, he didn't want to.

“Then I guess you're just going to have to accept the fact I'm about to find out where you live, Clyde.”

“I'm sure I can live with that.”

The drive was relaxing. He let his eyes drop down and just enjoyed the humming of the engine, the classical music dancing out of the speakers, the sweet scent of you in the air. Every so often, his GPS would chime in and keep him from falling off the edge into sleep. If someone had told him weeks ago, dates back, that you would be driving toward his apartment, he would have cut contact with you straight away.

Right now, he wished you'd hurry up and step inside the four walls he called home.

“You must have a boring job.” The doors to the elevator shut slowly, a fact which Hongjoong had always hated about the building. It usually left him stuck having uncomfortable small talk with the older women in his building.

“Huh?”

“Boring jobs always pay the best.” You further elaborated. “To live in a place like this, you must get payed well.”

He'd never really thought about the paycheques he collected. For Hongjoong, his art wasn't a job. It was breathing, living, feeling. He often forgot it was also what payed his bills and funded his lifestyle. He supposed you were right, to an extent. He did get payed well, but his job was by no means boring. “I told you, I'm an accountant.”

He was glad to find his apartment clean, mentally noting to thank Seonghwa for tidying up for him last time he'd visited. He'd always been a clean freak but fatherhood seemed to have intensified it. You walked in after him, swinging the little white bag in sync with your steps, his medicine tossing around inside of it. Somewhere along the drive home, he remember the prescription in his pocket, prompting a sudden manhunt for an open pharmacy.

At your orders, Hongjoong dropped himself down onto the couch while you wandered into the kitchen, asking him where he kept his mugs and how he liked his coffee. Watching you struggle to open his monstrous size of a fridge, Hongjoong didn't hate the look of you in his safe space. You fit in quite well.

For the first time in years, he let himself be taken care of. You cooked up some kimchi stew, which you shared sat in his living room, laughing between bites at the cringey rom-com playing on the TV. You fluffed a cushion and helped him prop his foot up on the coffee table, wrapping it in a frozen bag of peas when you realized he had no ice. You poured him drink after drink, forced him to take his medicine, cleaned up the dishes you'd both used.

You kept him company.

“Tell me...” Hongjoong trailed off, deciding he didn't want to finish the sentence.

“Something about myself?” You finished it off, curling yourself further into his couch, legs pulled up to your chest and a mug of tea heating up your hands.

“No, actually.” You looked more surprised than he felt. “Tell me why you agreed to this.”

“You know, nobody really warns you about how lonely being an adult is.” Hongjoong wanted to scream out in agreement. He leaned closer to you instead, body language urging you to continue. “I always thought college would be wild nights and crazy parties and messy hook-ups. And it is but it's also stressful, difficult, isolating. There's times where I go days without speaking to my friends, ignoring their texts for no other reason than I'm so drained and conversations overwhelm me. When I do want to talk or see them, they're all too busy with their own lives, which I'm not angry about but hanging out isn't as easy as it was back when the only thing we had to worry about was having the dishes done by the time our parents came home. The feeling of being lonely took over the feeling of being alive somewhere along the way. I miss being busy with something other than responsibilities, I miss being hugged because I'm cared about and not because someone wants to cop a feel. I miss the feeling of company and understanding.”

Your word-vomit resonated with Hongjoong, the way you explained your feelings and your cravings mirroring things he'd been thinking for months. How would you react if he hugged you? He didn't want you to mistake it for pity. His arms stayed put.

“On the flipside, the intimacy of love is something I don't want. Which contradicts the things I do want, I know, but then I came across your profile. You sort of filled that hole and I didn't need to worry about the complications of relationships.” And now he was feeling guilty for his recent behaviour. You were strangers, that was the deal. “I guess that's why I agreed to it.”

The shame poured off you in waves, the realization of everything you'd just let out into the world hitting you like a truck. You took a few more drinks of your tea, the cup covering half your face.

“I needed a new muse.” Hongjoong thought it was only fair he shared his reason too. Another part of him, one he didn't want to acknowledge, wanted you to know about his past.

“I didn't know accountants needed muses.” You joked, choking a smile out of your saddened face.

“Yeah, well, let's just say this accountant has a side-job involving art.”

“What happened to your old muse? Did you outgrow them?”

“They outgrew me.” It had been so long since he'd had to tell this story to someone, he only hoped he could get it out without choking up. “Have you ever met someone and immediately realised you want them by your side till the day you die?” You looked at him, nodding your head affirmatively. “That was my ex. We met on campus. She was late to class and I accidentally spilt coffee all over her.”

“What a k-drama way of meeting.”

“Tell me about it. So anyway, we were together for three years. It was great, like living in some fantasy. We'd spend mornings sleeping, in the afternoon she'd drag me out to do something, no matter how much I wanted to stay home. And in the evening, she'd sit and I'd paint her. Until she started leaving in the morning, and coming home late, and girls nights out kept ending with her sleeping round her friends houses.”

“Clyde...” He wished you'd said his name with pity, not the meaningless name you'd anointed to him.

“But whatever, I thought nothing about it. We just moved on from the honeymoon phase, right? On our anniversary, I took her to her favourite restaurant, some fancy place covered in enough blue to make me nauseous. The whole night I felt like shit and just wanted to go home but she didn't even notice, eyes staring off at something behind me. It was during dessert that she broke the news of her pregnancy, the restaurant owner even appeared from behind me with a celebratory bottle of champagne for us.”

“Alcohol? Sounds exactly like what a pregnant lady needs.”

Hongjoong snorted back laughter, finding comedy in the fact you had no idea what was coming next. “So we start preparing for the baby, she even has me emptying out my studio room and turning it into a nursery.” He paused, blinking till his eyes had glassed over. “I never realized I was someone who wanted kids till she told me it wasn't mine. Five months along, after sitting with her through all the morning sickness, and holding her hand at the doctors, and massaging her swollen ankles every night, she finally decides she owes me the truth. And only because the real father finally stepped up and offered to take responsibility. Guess she preferred someone who owned a restaurant instead of someone who played with arts and craft supplies for a living.”

It was you who hugged him, carefully crossing the space between you both and wrapping your arms around his torso, hand rhythmically patting his back. He hesitated momentarily before letting his arms tangle themselves around you. The first thing he noted was how warm you felt, like soup on a cold day or hot chocolate on Christmas morning. The second thing was your perfume, different to any you'd worn before, one he swore smelt like tulips.

Hongjoong melted into you, forehead pressed against your shoulder and eyes shut, washing away the tears of self-pity. He sighed and took a breath, reminding himself of the breathing exercises he'd learn to calm himself down in moments of anguish. He was thankful you continued to hold him.

“Tell me something about you.” He said- no, begged. He needed the conversation to change. He needed you to be Bonnie and him to be Clyde, instead of Kim Hongjoong and a stranger he was growing attached to.

“Classical music reminds me of sex.” The way you made him laugh so easily wasn't helping his attachment. “Don't laugh! There's the soft beginning, which is like kissing. Then comes the gentle increase, the teasing moments of undressing. The build up, the foreplay. And then the crescendo is the climax. It's sex turned into music.”

“So, when you're trying to seduce a guy, what do you do? Put on some Beethoven and throw it back?”

“Don't make me poke your ankle!”

Neither of you moved back to your original positions, even after pulling away from the hug. You sat, face to face, talking over everything and nothing. For the first time, Hongjoong hadn't lied to you once, an achievement he found less scary than he would have a month ago. And you? You hadn't lied, necessarily, simply told a half-truth. Just one. 

It couldn't hurt, right?

When you'd succumbed to sleep on his shoulder, Hongjoong decided it was probably time for bed. If it weren't for his crutches, he would have carried you into his room, given up his bed in exchange for the couch. The best he could do was lay you down on a pillow and wrap you in a blanket, leaving the hallway light on in case you awoke startled in the night.

Hongjoong fell asleep wondering how much warmer the bed would've been with you beside him.

And he woke up to a scream.

Your scream.

Cursing after he forgot about his injury and stepped down onto his ankle, Hongjoong hobbled as quickly as he could over to his crutches, completely alert as he made his way out of his room, only to stumble onto the scene of the crime.

Your hair was messed up by sleep and your face was a little puffy while you held up your pillow defensively, facing the intruder who clearly was a threat to your life: Seonghwa with a baby strapped to his chest and an amused look on his face.

“Hongjoong! How nice of you to join us!”

Oh no. Oh no. His eyes shot to you, wide, seeing you processing just exactly what Seonghwa had said. It was too early in the morning for him to try and handle this smoothly.

“How did you get in here?” He decided to focus on his friend instead, hoping if he brushed it off enough you'd forget what you heard and keep seeing him as Clyde.

“The same way you did,” Seonghwa held up his hand, a set of keys in his grasp. “a key.” He'd forgotten all about the spare key he'd given to him. And the fact he had the worst timing. “Who's this, Joong?”

“That's...” The person I've been dating but not really dating for the past few months and it's starting to get complicated, and you aren't helping by saying my name. “my person.”

“Your person?” Seonghwa parroted, a dumbfounded look on his face. “You must be feeling better, you're starting to sound like a pretentious artist again.”

“Okay, what do you want? Why are you here?” If Hongjoong had found the courage to look at you, he'd have noticed the fondness in the way you watched the two men interact.

“I forget you're not a morning person. Why was your person sleeping on the couch? Trouble in paradise?” His questions were followed up by Seonghwa slowly sitting himself down on the couch, hand cradling his son's head to his chest.

“I fell asleep on the couch while we were watching a movie.” Hongjoong had never been happier to hear you speak. “Cl- Hongjoong couldn't move me because of his crutches. Paradise is still very much good, thanks.”

Seonghwa stared past him, right at you, eyes narrowing into a calculative glare. “I like you.”

“I'm flattered. But I need to leave, got work in a couple hours.”

“Let me walk you- actually, hobble you to the door.” Hongjoong was quick, following you over to the front door and, most importantly, out of Seonghwa's hearing range. “Thanks, for last night.”

“No problem. Don't forget to take your meds." You smiled, hand patting the top of his arm. He wanted to feel what it was like to hug you again. “See you next Saturday, Clyde.”

The dopiest of smiles rested on his face, only faltering when he returned to the living room and found a knowing look on Seonghwa's face.

“Oh, shut up!” He exclaimed, throwing himself down next to him on the couch.

“I didn't say anything!”

The whistle of the boiled kettle interrupted Hongjoong’s actions, as if to stop him from making a mistake. He shoved the burner phone back into his pocket, tending to his fourth coffee of the day. The clock had barely passed eleven am. 

Making his way back into the studio, a smile lit up his face instantly at the sight of his work in progress. The canvas was more than half-way done at this point, he’d finally reached his favourite part of any piece: the details. He loved to play with the shading, the swirls of different colours and the specs of different textures. 

The whole experience of working on this last painting had sent him down a trip of nostalgic memories, some good and some bad. By far, his favourite was the memory of the opening day of his first exhibit. He could remember swelling with pride when a little boy, no taller than the height of his knees, reached out to put his hands on a canvas. Even though the mother had scolded her son, Hongjoong enjoyed the way he was touching his art, experiencing it with all his senses.

Two sips into his coffee and his mobile buzzed. Hongjoong was disappointed it wasn’t the chunky one in his pocket, but his newer model thrown somewhere behind him on the old couch.

[11:27 am] ddeonghwa: don’t forget to bring the supplies for saturday or chaeyoung will kill both of us.

Hongjoong had never been so happy to receive a text from his friend, who was completely unaware of the excuse he’d just created for him, the window of opportunity he’d opened.

to: bonnie are you busy?

Your reply was instant, making Hongjoong less embarrassed to be messaging you.

from: bonnie if staring at my notes and pretending to study is busy, then yes.

to: bonnie you could do that anywhere, technically. 

from: bonnie i could.

to: bonnie i’ve heard art stimulates people’s brains.

from: bonnie everything stimulates the brain.

to: bonnie shut up and come over, i have mango tea.

from: bonnie you should’ve opened with that, i’d be there by now.

You’d arrived in no time, quenching the deep desire he’d had to see you. It appeared two hours after you’d left on Saturday and made itself at home in Hongjoong’s brain, eating away at his conscious and begging him to message you, to think about you on days that weren’t a Saturday. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” You asked him for the third time since you’d arrived. Your textbook lay in front of you on the kitchen island but your eyes were busy watching him struggle to make your tea. “You do realize it’s only Wednesday, right? Or has dementia finally caught a hold of your brain?”

“Careful or I might accidentally use salt instead of sugar.”

You ended up taking over, making your own drink. You didn’t mind, it gave you an excuse to shut your book and stand next to him. He looked cute in his paint splattered shirt and his iron man socks. His hair was messier than you’d seen before, looking soft to touch and like it smelled of high-end shampoo. 

“I’m busy on Saturday, but I didn’t want to deprive you of your weekly company.” 

“Busy? On a Saturday?!” The exclamation in your voice was exaggerated, you both knew that. You bumped your hip into his, careful to not knock the hand that was pouring hot water into his cup of coffee. “Here I thought Saturdays were something reserved just for me.”

He hated that fact more than anything, that it was only Saturdays.

Conversation came easy between you both as you drank your warm beverages, him perched on the counter and you on one of the bar stools. You told him about upcoming exams and he told you about the recent exhibit he’d been working on. You shared the story of some guy in class who’d accidentally taken ecstasy and Hongjoong exposed the story of how Yunho had once thought he was buying cocaine in college but it was just a bag of crushed chalk. 

“Can I see your studio?” You asked, dropping your empty mug into the kitchen sink. 

“Let me just...” Hongjoong was surprised by the words coming out of his own mouth. His studio was his sanctuary. He could count on one hand the number of people he willingly allowed in there: himself, Seonghwa and Mingi once (by accident). Yet here he was, not even thinking over the choice of letting you see it. He just wanted external validation, that was all. Someone not in his immediate friend group. “clean up quickly.”

Which he did, shoving used tissue into a plastic bag, moving his dirty palette and used brushes to the sink he kept in there, turning the canvas that carried his final piece the other way, not ready for you to see it. Only once things seemed semi presentable did he call you in.

“So you’re like, the real deal?” You finally spoke for the first time since entering, eyes not sure what you wanted to stare at more. The room was so colourful, as if it contained all of Hongjoong’s personality.

“I guess? Yeah.” He’d never felt so sheepish, hands shoved in his pockets and mind racing with every worry under the sun. 

“What’s your most recent work then?”

“Oh, no no, that’s not ready for your prying eyes to see.” You groaned in frustration and he just laughed. An idea struck him, one he shouldn’t have had but there was no getting rid of it now. “I can paint you something right now though, if you want.” 

You nodded eagerly, eyes lit up in excitement. The look didn’t even fade when Hongjoong warned you it would take a few hours. “Talent can’t be rushed, I know.”

“Okay, take your top off.” You raised your eyebrows at him, a questioning look across your face. “Don’t look at me like that. Take it off and lay on the couch, on your front. You’re going to be my canvas.”

Hongjoong turned his back on you, giving you the privacy you need to undress yourself.  “That’s me done.” Your voice was muffled slightly by the leather cushion but he understood you. 

He gathered what he needed: the brushes, the paint, the sponges, the small basin of water. Setting it up next to the couch, he cleared is throat before straddling his legs over either side of you, refusing to let himself sink down completely. He wiped your back down slowly, ignoring the way you moved beneath him with every breath. 

“This might be cold.” Was his only warning before giving the first stroke of his brush. Just like he expected, you gasped beneath him, a series of inappropriate thoughts shooting through his mind. You quickly relaxed, eyes shutting while Hongjoong slowly spread the base colour over your skin.

At some point, he reached for a remote and flicked on the radio, soft music playing out and encompassing the feeling around you both. You giggled beneath him, squirming against his body and slowly killing his resolve. Hongjoong wanted to blame the paint fumes on the high he was feeling. 

“Sorry,” He heard you huff out lazily, eyes barely open. “it just tickles.”

“It’s fine.” He lied. “I used to do this with her.”

“Yeah?” You knew him so well, already aware of who he was speaking about.

“She was always impatient, rushing me to finish. It usually messed up my work.”

“She sounds like a piece of work.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, not quite understanding the smile he carried on his lips while talking about her. “she was the worst.”

By the time Hongjoong had finished, the sun had set and hours had passed. You’d drifted somewhere between sleeping and talking to him the whole time, the music keeping him company in the moments you closed your eyes. 

“Could you take a picture?” You whispered after he announced he’d finished, eyes slowly opening to readjust to the light. “My phone’s in my back pocket.”

So that’s what had been poking against him. Hongjoong was greeted by the picture of a cat, small and grey, displayed on your lockscreen. He now knew you hadn’t lied about owning one. 

His fingers worked quickly to snap a picture, body needing to remove himself from yours. He didn’t like how tight his trousers had become, the way you’d sighed and gasped and squirmed beneath him having done something to his head. He leaned over you, hands holding his weight up and off of the drying paint on your back, holding your phone out for you to see. 

“You’re...” Your words caught in your throat, eyes darting back and forth between the screen and his face. On your naked back lay a colourful field of flowers, the shadows of two people standing face to face, heads haloed by the sun. “insane.”

Maybe it was the way you were staring at his work or the way you smelt up close or the hours of growing tension in his body, but Hongjoong lost himself in the moment, lips diving down to claim your own against his. You reciprocated immediately, head angled uncomfortably to the side just to kiss him deeper.

He was glad to let you slip your tongue into him, tasting him, drinking him in while his arms gave out and he dropped down onto your back. Neither of you cared for the smudging paint between you and his shirt. He trailed his lips down your neck, breathing heavy when he felt you grind up against him, eyes rolling back as he began to match your hips with his own. 

You whined when he sat up, causing him to giggle and work at pulling his shirt off quicker, throwing it somewhere into the room. He didn’t care to watch it land on a pile of acrylic paint, too busy pressing himself back down to you, the cool paint making his nipples stand to attention and his hands sneaking under you to cup your chest, fingers tweaking at your nipples and dragging the sweetest of noises out of you. 

“Is this okay?” He mumbled between kisses along your shoulder, hands now down at the hem of your jeans, teasingly dipping under and threatening to pull them off. He just needed your consent first, to hear you wanted this as much as he did. 

“No,” Your breathing had begun to labour, chest stuttering over an inhalation. “there’s too much clothes on. Hurry up.”

He followed your command, hands dragging your jeans off with your help before your underwear followed, after he pinged the elastic onto your skin and laughed when you called him dumb. His shaky hands quickly worked at removing the rest of his own clothing. If he moved fast enough, there’d be no time to question if you two should have been doing this. 

Hongjoong was tired of thinking.

Once he was freed of the confines of clothing, cock hard against his stomach, Hongjoong spat onto his hands, grabbing himself by the base and spreading it over his shaft, lubricating his cock while you watched him from over your shoulder, your hips grinding down on the sofa, mouth agape at the little pleasure you were getting. 

When his eyes met yours, it was the last bit of encouragement he needed to align himself with your entrance, hand splayed out on your lower back while the other angled your hips up. Pushing his cock into your tightness left him feeling warmer than any hug ever could.

A few moments of stillness, and then he began to thrust, lighting both of your nerves on fire with pleasure. The music began to build gradually over the radio, in time with your rising heartbeat and racing breaths.

You began meeting his thrusts, hands trying to grip at the tattered leather under them while the sweat dripped down your back, colourful trails running down your sides and on to the couch. Hongjoong had never loved the sight of his own art so much, picking up the speed at which he pistoned his hips into yours, skin clapping against skin in time with the symphony playing over the stereo. 

The space between you became too much for Hongjoong. He needed you closer, till you were breathing the same air. Fingers tangled in your hair, he pulled you up to rest on your knees, your back meeting his chest and your face resting inches away from his own. It drove him wild to hear you moan, to see the way your eyes were hooded and your mouth failed to shut. He got cocky, shoving his fingers into your open mouth, eyes rolling back when your lips wrapped around his digits, tongue swirling over them. 

“You imagining that’s my cock in your mouth, doll?” He threw his head back when you moaned, mouth and hole stuffed full of him. 

He removed his fingers, dragging a trail of your saliva down till he found your nipples once more, covering you in your own fluids. You rocked back against him, taking his length deeper than before. His lips reattached to your neck, needing a way to filter out the string of lewd things he wanted to say.

“Clyde!” You cried out, hand shooting back to tangle itself in his hair, tugging on it and rousing a groan from his chest.

“Don’t call me that.” The music grew with his thrusts, the intensity bouncing off of the walls. “Please.”

“Hongjoong!” You corrected yourself and his hips stuttered, feeling you clench down on him in a vice grip, your orgasm washing over you without a warning. 

He fucked you through it, willing himself to hold on a little longer. The music and him reached their crescendo in sync, Hongjoong pulling out watching the thick ropes of his seed paint your back for the second time that evening, mixing in with the shades of colour you were both covered in by now.

That night, Hongjoong found out just how much warmer his bed was with you in it.

And how you looked first thing in the morning, fingers tangled with his own and a leg thrown over his hip, welcoming in every thrust he brought upon you, starting your days off in bliss. By noon, you dragged him out of bed, both your stomachs growling for food.

He left you to cook the bacon, laughing when you smacked his pyjama covered ass as he skirted past you to grab the eggs from his fridge. After cracking them into the pan next to the bacon, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest and nuzzling his head in your neck. You smelled like his shampoo, the shirt on your back tainting you in his cologne.

“Tell me something about you.” He peppered kisses over your neck, only to hear you laugh at how his hair tickled you.

“I like the deal we have.”

“Me too.”

You both lied but your lips met before either of you could call the other out on it, bacon sizzling below. His fingers met the hem of your shirt- his shirt, really-, inching it up slowly. He couldn’t recognise the man he’d become, hungry for your affection and desperately in need of you against him.

“What kind of porno have I walked into?”

You both jumped apart, eyes wide as you came face to face with none other than Park Seonghwa, who’s hands were shielding his eyes.

Hongjoong needed to take the spare key off of him. 

“Don’t you ever knock?” Hongjoong groaned in frustration, watching how you diverted your attention back to the breakfast you’d been cooking. 

“You knew I was coming over!” Seonghwa sat at the island, watching you in amusement while Hongjoong wished he’d go away. “Remember? You’re coming with me to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t try buy my daughter something inappropriate. It was bad enough he bought a bib with bros before hoes written across it for little Minho’s baby shower last year.”

You laughed, switching the stove off once the food was done and turned around to face them both. “Wooyoung sounds fun.”

“Yeah, till you meet him and realise he’s an adult who hasn’t grown out of his frat-boy phase.” Did Hongjoong feel a flash of green at the prospect of you finding Wooyoung fun? No, not at all, why would he care what you thought?

“Speaking of meeting that cretin, you should come to my daughter’s birthday party this Saturday. She’s two, so the party is just an excuse for a bunch of parents to get drunk while their kids make a mess of my back garden.” Seonghwa had been nagging Hongjoong since he’d met you last weekend to invite you to the party, and each time Hongjoong had said no. It seemed he’d decided to take matters into his own hands. “I never caught your name, by the way.”

“Uh...” Your eyes skirted over to Hongjoong. He just hoped you wouldn’t say Bonnie. Not after everything that happened in the last twenty four hours. “Y/N. That’s my... uh, name. Yeah.”

“Okay Y/N, I’ll make sure your boyfriend here brings you along to the party. Though, you might want to wear more than just his shirt, Wooyoung kinda has a thing for legs.”

Hongjoong held back from swearing, nearly tripping over the toddler that had just ran past his feet. 

The party was full, more children than adults and only a few poor sober, breastfeeding mothers stuck with the responsibility of taking care of them. Everyone else had been more than happy to indulge in the drinks Chaeyoung and Seonghwa had provided, the prior just excited to have her first drink since bringing the couple’s six month old son into the world.

He was glad to have you by his side. At the Park’s first birthday party for their daughter, Sodam, Hongjoong was fresh out of a break up and dealing with the looks of pity and apologetic words from his and the couple’s friends alike. It felt good to have them all keen to know how he’d met you, how long you’d been together, what plans you had, even if everything you two said was a lie. 

Yunho and Mingi had been made to believe the two of you met in a grocery store, while you were buying a bottle of rosé and him some celery. You’d insisted on coming up with that story, laughing for reasons Hongjoong couldn’t quite understand. San and his fiancé had been told it was in a museum, you a tour guide who’d been corrected by Hongjoong on some fact about Picasso. Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho and his girlfriend were recounted the story of how you’d been a fan of him since his first exhibit, and were incapable of not approaching him when you spotted him in a coffee shop.

He now stood at a distance, Chaeyoung’s orders that he leave you alone for some time. Which apparently meant Chaeyoung, San’s fiancé and Jongho’s girlfriend giggling at everything you said. It warmed his heart to see you gain their approval, knowing they cared for him like a brother. The whole day had made him realise how much he had, more friends than he gave himself credit, more reasons to smile than he’d believed.

“You’re a lucky man.”

Hongjoong nearly jumped out of his own skin, turning around to come face to face with Chaeyoung’s co-worker. Hyeri! That was her name! “Huh? Oh, yeah, I am.”

“It’s nice to see you with someone,” She still had that smile on her face, just like she’d had on their date. Hongjoong no longer envied her because of it. “you seem more like the guy Seonghwa told me about.”

Her words meant everything to him. Hongjoong really did feel like himself again, no longer the empty shell. Sure, he still had a long way to go before he was fully there but, for now, he could accept no longer stopping himself from wearing colour and asking for milk in his coffee. “What about you? Anyone trying to sweep you off your feet?”

“Oh no, not for me. Though, your friend Wooyoung did try shoot his shot.” That sounded about right.

He was about to answer when his eyes drifted back over to you, where he found one of Seonghwa’s famous homemade cupcakes in your hand, moments away from taking your first bite. He excused himself quickly and hurried over, ripping the treat from your grasp and dropping it back onto the table, ignoring the look Chaeyoung was shooting his way and your protests.

Clearly no one had warned you about the special ingredient. “You can’t eat that, it’s full of strawberry jam.”

You stuck to the chocolate cookies for the rest of the night.

Come nine o’clock, the children had all crashed down from their sugar high and guests began to leave, Seonghwa waving you two off from the door. He’d nearly invited you to Hongjoong’s exhibition in two weeks but, fortunately, he understood the artist’s widened eyes and shaking head.

Hongjoong wanted to ask you privately, in his own time.

“It’s not quite your apartment but,” You moved aside, welcoming a tipsy Hongjoong into your home. “it’s enough for me.”

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye so early in the evening, convincing you to take him back to your place. You lived closer to Seonghwa, anyway. It made sense, right? Hongjoong was just thinking logically when he’d let you lead him to your door, hand intertwined in his, an occasional brush of his lips against your knuckles when he’d cover his drunken giggles with your hands.

Your apartment was much smaller than his, but it didn’t mean anything to him. He liked the way little details about you decorated the place, magazines and books and candles littered in odd places. He enjoyed being trusted into your safe space, knowing how difficult of a thing it was for him to do with people, with strangers. Were you two still strangers?

“Sorry, I need to go drop something off to my neighbour. They keep delivering her mail to me for some reason.” You announced after a while of sitting next to him on the couch, not doing much yet filling Hongjoong’s heart with joy. He pulled you into his kiss for the first time all day, hand cupping your cheek while his lips begged you to do it later, to stay with him right now. “I’ll be ten minutes, tops. Feel free to snoop around if you get bored.”

He originally wasn’t going to do as you said, telling himself he wasn’t so childish as to look through someone’s things. But, you had given him permission. And he was bored, alcohol hitting him harder than ever and demanding he stand up and move. So he filtered through your book case, laughing at the few romance novels you had, raising his eyebrows at the untouched copy of 50 Shades Of Grey. He imagined it was a gag gift, no pun intended. 

His hands picked up some of your textbooks, finding he quite liked your handwriting. It was a neat mess. And, from the writings on the pages, he gathered you were majoring in something like psychology, a lot of big words and talk of cognitive behaviour. He flicked to the more recent notes you’d made,

His heart dropped to his stomach.

“Okay, I’m back. Jeez that woman can talk, she kept trying to invite...” You stumbled back through the door, freezing in your tracks. Your eyes flickered between Hongjoong’s frown and the notebook in his hand. “Hongjoong...”

“What is this about?” His voice was eerily calm, that feeling of euphoria laced tipsiness long gone. 

“What do you mean?”

“Date one: the subject seems boring, like he lacks his own personality. He relies on facts and big words to get him by. Maybe he’s a narcissist? I’m not quite sure yet, but it certainly must take a level of arrogance to put yourself on a dating site, you need to rely on your looks to seem intriguing.” Hongjoong spat your own notes out at you, hand clenching the paper with the grip he had. “Date two: he’s more stiff than a plank of wood. I accidentally brushed my hand against him while we grabbed at the clay and he froze up completely. Do i need to keep going?”

“No, I understand.” You cleared your throat, nervous and unsure of what to do. You’d never seen him angry. “And I know how it looks-”

“Know how it looks?! Yeah, it looks like you were studying me like some lab rat.” He snapped, slapping the offensive notebook down onto your coffee table. “Is this what you’ve been using our dates for? Some sick, twisted study?”

“Yes- No! It’s more complicated than that! It’s not like I could even use those notes in my thesis! It would be unethical, since you didn’t know about it.”

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so? That makes everything better, come let’s sit and talk about how you psychoanalyzed me!” His voice had begun to raise, not yelling but certainly not the soft tone he addressed you with. If only he flicked a few more pages, he’d have noticed how you’d stopped taking notes after the third date. “God, you’re such a liar, feeding me that bullshit about being lonely. Were you just telling me what I wanted to hear?”

“That wasn’t a lie!” You insisted, wanting to move closer but fearing it wasn’t what he wanted right now. “It was just some meaningless study on dating apps, okay? You weren’t going to be featured in it. I even changed my thesis subject weeks ago, just look for yourself!”

“If you think that makes me feel better, you’re dumber than I thought.” It stung to hear those words come from Hongjoong, your sad eyes only making him madder. How dare you be sad, as if he were the one who had wronged you, lied to you. “You’re just like her, you know? Full of shit.”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re any better than me!” The frustration of his accusations and his ruthless words brought forth the anger in you. “Standing there like you haven’t been using me as some replacement for your ex. Newsflash! She’s moved on. She moved on before you even ended things, so why don’t you do the same?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing as he sighed. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, willing himself to not blow his last fuse. When he reopened his eyes, his hands grabbed his jacket off of the couch and he marched past you, ripping the door open. 

“Where are you going?” You called after him.

“Somewhere I don’t need to worry about being a test subject.”

As he slammed the door shut, he heard you yell after him: “See you next Saturday.”

Only, you never did see each other that day.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Hongjoong had been zoning in and out from the conversation all morning, mind adrift somewhere else. He needed sleep, but all he had was lacklustre coffee and a headache. “Sorry, not been sleeping well.”

“Pre-exhibition jitters?” The woman, Mrs. Kwon, asked him from across the table, smiling politely. She was the art gallery’s director and she’d more or less overseen the entire process of preparing Hongjoong’s upcoming event.

“Something like that.”

“That’s understandable, I once had an artist burst into tears and beg that the whole event be cancelled... five minutes before the opening!” She laughed and Hongjoong tried to mimic it as earnestly as possible, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I’m sure your agent, Seonghwa, has briefed you on everything but I’d like to just go over it again to make sure everything is perfect come Saturday.”

Hongjoong zoned out again, drowning out the woman’s voice. He could always ask Seonghwa to change something if he changed his mind last minute. If there was one thing he had to commend that man for, it was his powers of persuasion. Just four days after the birthday party, he’d coaxed the truth out of Hongjoong. The whole truth.

While she rambled on about opening hours and the placements for each piece, Hongjoong’s eyes drifted over to the counter, a queue of people waiting to grab their order. His throat went dry as his eyes met a familiar pair, which stared back at him empty and unfeeling, like when he stared in the mirror.

He willed himself to ignore it, to turn back and pay attention to the woman in front of him. It worked for a few minutes before he heard the bell above the door ring, turning just in time to see your retreating form. He dashed out of his seat, ignoring Mrs. Kwon calling his name and pushed himself out the door. 

“Y/N!” He called out after you, stopping behind you when you whipped around to face him. It hurt to see your eyes hadn’t changed from the cafe. “It’s not what you think-”

“What I think doesn’t matter.” You refused to meet his stare, cheek turned to him while you stared through the window of the cafe, at his empty chair and the beautiful woman waiting for him to return. “And whatever it is, it’s none of my business. We’re nothing, we never have been. Now, if you’ll allow me, I have to get to class. My test subjects are awaiting me.”

“Y/N.” He tried reaching for your hand, begging you with the call of your name to wait, to let him talk. 

“Stop calling me that! We don’t call each other by real names, remember? That was the deal.”

“I think we crossed the boundaries of our deal long ago.”

“Well I’m cancelling it all together, officially.” You readjusted the strap of your bag, taking a step back. “Goodbye, Clyde.”

Hongjoong had forgotten how cold the air felt against his neck. 

He’d been unsure of the drastic change, up until the moment Yeosang had snipped off the first few strands of hair. The mullet was gone and, in it’s place, blonde hair paired with an undercut sat. When he’d woken up that morning, lazily running his fingers through his hair, he decided he quite liked the shorter, neater style.

All day, he’d received compliments on his looks, those who had attended his first exhibit noting how much he’d grown in the few years since and newer fans of his work claiming they’d had no idea he was so young. He liked that they expected someone older, it made him feel more solidified in the art world, like his work came across as mature and well-nurtured.

His speech was short, thanking those he had to before quickly handing the microphone over to Seonghwa, who was always a charmer with crowds. He had them all laughing in no time, recounting the horrors of dealing with Hongjoong as a client.

Finally, for the first moment all day, Hongjoong found a pocket of silence for himself, managing to drift away from the crowds of people and the flutes of champagne that had started to make him feel a little sick. He stood alone, staring at the last part of his collection. 

He was proud of his work, no matter the bittersweet story it told. 

Every piece in his collection chronicled the past two years of his life, starting from the moment his relationship had began to fall apart, carrying through the months of misery, the loneliness, the acceptance, the moving on. It was his visual presentation of the stages of grieving a relationship, the final part being the most important. 

Because he had to move. He had to keep living, for no one but himself.

He had moved on. 

He knew it from the way he no longer avoided old pictures of her, from the way he could think about her and feel nothing. Not even the anger remained. She wasn’t worth the energy he’d spent so long wasting on her.

“This one doesn’t make me sad.” Hongjoong’s silence was interrupted. 

He could feel you standing next to him, staring at the same art he was. He never bothered turning his head to look at you, he saw you behind his eyelids every time he blinked. 

“How come?” 

“It’s reminds me of self-love.”

The face in the painting was much like his own, spare for a few details. One half was littered in shades of blue and grey, rose thorns stabbing at his skin while dead flowers and sharp twigs replaces what should’ve been his eyes. The other half was colourful, bright, smiling with vines wrapped around it and blossoming tulips on his lips, eyes peacefully closed. 

He sighed, turning to look at you at last. You copied him, eyes not like the last time he’d seen you. You looked pensive, nervous, like you were shy to be in his company.

“I hope you know how sorry I am.” He said, wishing there was someway to tell you he wanted to touch you without having to actually say it.

He just wanted to know you were real.

“I do.” You nodded, lips pursing together. “Just like you know how sorry I am too. I should’ve been honest with you that night. It would’ve saved a lot of trouble.”

He couldn’t disagree with you. If you’d told him, the two of you wouldn’t have fought that night. He would’ve invited you to his exhibition and would’ve returned into your waiting arms after his speech. But things didn’t always go the way people planned.

He was learning to be okay with that.

“How did you know?” He stared down at your hands, fingers rubbing together as he contemplated reaching for one. “About today, I mean.”

“Seonghwa is really good at guilt tripping people.” He laughed, knowing fine well what you meant. He needed to thank Seonghwa for whatever he’d said.

Your gazes both returned to the painting, the distant chatting of approaching people buzzing around you. 

“Are you free next Saturday, Bonnie?” His heart was in his hand, waiting and begging for you to lay claim on it.

“No.”

He sighed in defeat.

Your hand tugged at his own, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m afraid I’ll be spending it with Kim Hongjoong, sorry.”

Seonghwa was calling him.

Hongjoong hit decline.

The man was only calling for two reasons: to panic talk all about Hongjoong’s fourth exhibit- that was still months away and by no means something that needed worrying about- or to ask him if he’d done it yet.

Both were conversations he wasn’t in the mood for.

His eyes only left your sleeping form to stare down at the sketching pad in his hand, graphite shading and soft lines making up the form of his muse, Chopin playing gently as background noise to his scribbling and your breathing.

As he bent down to grasp his mug of coffee, the weight of the little box dragged the inside of his sweatpants pocket down, a reminder of the question he'd been meaning to ask you.

There was no rush, you were enjoying your rest.

Hongjoong could wait a few more hours.