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aphrogeneias · 1 year ago

Text

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you.

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit.

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him.

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you.

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house.

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside.

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall.

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine.

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you.

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin.

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door.

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie."

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic

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koiiiji · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do some windbreaker characters with a fem gyaru s/o? I would specifically like Vinny you can chose any other character if you want :)

author note : OMG!! I searched some photos in pinterest, like inspiration for gyaru, and wooow!! i will definitely take some details into my style bc its sooo beautiful… i genuinely thought (idk why honestly) that gyaru is more like pink barbie in 80-90s style but it looks so cool i can’t!! sorry for such long reply, and we r mutuals so i feel even more ashamed :(( i tried with more characters but give up and done just these two!! hope you will like it💋🎗️

warning : pure fluff, vinny being softie and shelly cutie as always

vinny - he definitely have 0 idea about all fashion trends, styles and different subcultures aside from street racing… so he genuinely don’t give a fuck about your style, he crushing into person, not a pieces of clothes you wear, but once your dialogue went in all different direction, you explain him what your style specifically is and what inspired you to join this subculture, he take note in his head that as soon as he will earn more money he will buy you as many new clothes and other items as you wish.

it was one of your first dates, you were sitting together in some random cafe that you found on the way from the second-hand store to which you dragged Vinny to find new elements for your outfits.

“so… was it really necessary to spend solid 2 hours in that shop to find just few pair of shorts, skirts and belts?…” he began hesitantly, doubting whether it was worth bringing up the subject. do girls get angry if you ask them why spend so much time in the shops? should he change the subject of conversation? or maybe you want to discuss this trip to the store? it seemed that now Vinny’s brains would just explode, before you he had not had to communicate so long and closely with girls. when you looked up at him, it seemed to him that his heart skipped a couple of beats - your eyes literally sparkled with joy and fun.

"of course it was!! if you want to find really unique things, then there is no place better than a second-hand store! of course, you need to try to find something really worthwhile, but when you find that very thing.." you clenched your fists and squeezed your eyes shut, smiling so sweetly and swaying back and forth with impatience

"...oh right, let's go at my place today!!! i'll show you why we spent so much time there, these shorts and skirts will just go perfectly..." Vinny continued to listen as you happily chirped about your ideas of what to wear new things with, and it seems you also mentioned new places where you wanted to take photos together with him, and much more. at that moment, Vinny didn’t cared about anything as much as your smile. you were so sincere with him, you smiled so brightly, just like a little star in his hands, and he suddenly remembered that pleasant, soft and warm sensation in his chest, just like in rare moments from childhood. your touch pulled him out of his own thoughts as you gently shook his hand, looking questioningly into his eyes.

"didn't you listen to what i was saying?" you squinted suspiciously. "wh... what?.. no, i heard everything.."

laughing in response, you pulled him towards the exit of the cafe, in direction to your house. at that moment, it seemed to Vinny that there were no problems around, and he was finally felt like ordinary schoolboy. yes, you were the one who helped him still stay sane. you were his own little star.

shelly - 100% fashion intusiast so she highlighted your style immediately, and liked it!! as i mentioned before, she definitely would post tiktoks/insta stories with you, admiring how cool and beautiful her girlfriend is.

“hey, let’s go shopping together after school? how about finding some new stuff?” shelly said excitedly, coming up from behind and hugging you. it was the last day before weekends starts, so after school you could relax and go shopping in search of new things, maybe you will be lucky enough today and you will find some cool archive things from 2000s.

"oh my god, look at this!!" Shelly squealed in delight as she ran up to you. in her hands was Vivienne Westwood's archive white handbag, with silver chains as handles and with a distinctive badge. it needed a little repair, but for the price that was offered for this handbag, it was worth it!!

"Shelly is so cute, how did you find it?!" you exclaimed joyfully, picking up the bag from her hands and examining it from all sides. today it was a really cool piece, and after picking up a pair of pumpons and key chains for a bag, you headed to Shelly's house, deciding to celebrate this purchase with a sleepover at her house, her grandfather wasn’t at home, and he anyway liked when you two hang out together.

"what do you think about ordering something to eat and putting on makeup together? we can shoot something in tiktok! oh! or let's film unpacking for this baby, what do you say?" you asked her excitedly, as you remembered that Shelly always wanted to try your makeup style and clothes you usually wear. and she was so pleased that you remembered such little things that she mentioned once quite a long time ago, and they were deposited in your head. hugging you tightly around the neck and whispering a quiet thank you, Shelly took you by the arm and headed for her home, excitedly offering you ideas for posing and which sound you should choose for your tiktoks.

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#windbreaker #x reader #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker headcanon #webtoon #headcanon #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #vinny hong x reader #vinny hong windbreaker #windebreaker hong yoo bin #shelly x reader #shelly scott #shelly scott x reader #shelly scott wind breaker

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b4b3tte · 1 year ago

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Hello, I having not the best day....and all I need is Ken to comfort me and cheer me up, either with human or barbie reader...Just pure pink Ken fluff.

Sorry to drop the request like that and Thank you in advance

COMFORT

꒰ ⊹ ˚ Summary — You have a bad day at work and all Ken is thinking about is comforting you and making you feel better<3

Pairing — Gosling!Ken X Reader

Contains of — pure fluff!!<3

Note — Hey thanks for you request I appreciate it!! I’m sorry you had a bad day today I hope you feel better and if you have any problems at all you can dm me I’ll be happy to talk and be friends with you!🩷

As the sun set over the bustling city, Ken could tell something was amiss the moment you stepped through the door. Your radiant smile was there anymore, as you made eye contact with Ken you managed a weak smile as you kicked off your shoes and sank onto the couch. Ken took a seat next to you , concern etched across his features. "Rough day?" he inquired, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yeah, it's just... work stuff. Everything seemed to go wrong today and it seemed like it was my fault. “

Ken leaned closer, offering his support. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need to talk about, I'm ready to listen."

Your eyes welled up with unshed tears, you finally let yourself lean into Ken's embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, providing the warmth and solace you desperately needed. "I just feel like I can't catch a break lately," you confessed.

You’ve always been strong and never took any mental health breaks because you thought you didn’t need them but it turns out you did need one, it just kept building up and it Finally exploded.

Ken stroked your hair gently. "You're incredibly talented and resilient. Remember all the challenges you've overcome before. This is just a bump in the road, and you're more than capable of handling it."

You’ve calmed down a bit and you have a tug at the end of your lips forming a smile, you look at Ken and hug him, you whisper “ you always know how to make me feel better “

He chuckled softly. "Being with you for a couple of months have taught me a thing or two “

As the evening wore on, Ken regaled you with funny stories, bringing laughter back to your eyes. He ordered your favorite takeout and set up a cozy movie night with your favorite movies. The hours passed, and your spirits gradually lifted, thanks to Ken's unwavering support and love.

“ You know, I'm really lucky to have you in my life."

Ken pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "The feeling is entirely mutual. We're a team, remember? No matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

And as you guys watched the city lights twinkle outside the window, Ken's arms around your waist, you couldn't help but feel that with him by your side, you could conquer anything the world throws at you

Hey guys! Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it, if you have any ideas,prompts or request please let me know I’ll be more than happy to read them! Love you ❤️

#fanfic #ken x fem reader #ryan gosling ken #ken x reader #ken x male reader #ken barbie #ken x you #the barbie movie #barbie #ken ryan gosling #ryan gosling #b4b3ttee #x reader #female reader #fanfic aesthetic #headcanons #nameisbb3tte

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myhyperfixationisback · 1 year ago

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hey I can’t believe I have to fucking say this but can y’all not make Oppenheimer jokes like this in the Ratchet and Clank tag. That is so massively disrespectful. it’s not Le Funny Meme it’s a real life event that impacted generations of minorities because of white men on a power trip. Joking about the fucking bomb is not funny.

Please

#particularly disappointed in you gvdgetron. we’ve been mutuals for years and you just unapologetically pull something as callous as that #ok. I get it. it could come from a place of ignorance and the way media has turned it into some sort of fantasy drama abt a sad white man #instead of the horrific story of thousands of people’s deaths (even before the bomb dropped. nuclear tests were dropped in mexico.)#and the man that helped create it didn’t even feel anything until he imagined Americans in that scenario.#he didn’t feel anything for the Japanese CIVILIANS that had nothing to do w their government or army being wiped out #and facing a fate worse than death.#don’t fucking make jokes like that. it’s not funny. it fucking screams white apathy and cruelty #sorry to bog down my blog but that fucking is not ok and I have to say something about it.#please. take this as a learning moment. I’m begging y’all not to double down and stomp your feet to defend your bad taste jokes #I am so extremely tired of seeing people trivialize a real life event using the pathetic excuse ‘it’s just a movie’#white men need to leave that part of history alone they’ve done enough damage. it’s not funny. it’s not cute.#people are still suffering from what men like Oppenheimer did to them. they’ve not been even apologized to.#to this day millions of people think it was justified.#if you find this event something you can laugh at then you genuinely sit at the table with fascists and you need to examine that #the way people have leaned into Oppenheimer solely bc the Barbie movie came out with it is gross. it’s not even a good movie.#it’s like people have just willfully forgot or don’t even feel bad about joking about nuclear experimentation and deaths.#maybe read Barefoot Gen instead of making extremely poor taste jokes about ‘cool explosions’#take a visit to the Hiroshima museum. listen to the downwinders and the Mexican people who suffered from the bomb test.

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trickster-archangel · 1 year ago

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Random thoughts about Hawaii Five-0 rewatch: part 1/?

So, as someone of my mutuals already knows, I'm currently undergoing the exhausting task of checking all the fucking 61 DVDs from the H50 box set before the 30-days guarantee expires, because it's physically impossible to watch them all completely in that time, even if I took 1 month leave. So I'm simply skipping back and forth and leaving the regular rewatch for when my life will be less of a living hell...so, supposedly around 2038...

I have one complaint, which is the subtitles are not completely matching all dialogues, but since my brain only needs them until it's switched to English-mode and I can start understanding it again, I guess it's alright. Second complaint: they're fucking HUGE and OVERLAPPING THE SCENES SO RANDOMLY IT HURTS.

Anyway, I've by now processed only s1-s5, and dude....some things I caught in the deleted scenes (which I've watched entirely) AND in some parts of the commentaries I specifically sought because curiosity won, and which I've never seen giffed or captioned....man, I was so angry and disappointed at times. So I thought I'd be randomly processing them here, no pics sorry, only thoughts.

~~~~~~more under the cut~~~~~~

Thought #1: Alex and Scott goofing around.

Trust me. The gag reels are so much better than you'd expect. At times I was genuinely laughing to tears and god knows how rare it is.

What I loved most was to watch that scene where Alex and Scott start cussing in Italian, and I bet no one who's not Italian could understand a fuck about what they're yelling. Best part, though, were the subtitles, captioning ALEX AND SCOTT: SWEARING IN ITALIAN 😂 Just to make sure what language exactly they were using.

Thought #2: missed chance to make Amber's character less of a plastic doll, or: Why did you fucking cut those 57 seconds?!?!

While watching s5 deleted scenes, I stumbled upon two real jewels from the 24th episode. I'm still trying to understand why they couldn't include them in the canon episode, since both of them combined are less than a minute and surely there were other moments that could've been cut. My only explanation, sadly, is that it would've painted Amber in quite a different light, making her a stronger, rounder character, and giving her an agency we rarely saw in her, except when confronting her ex husband. They could've followed that route, but we cannot have a beautiful woman who's also her own person, a self-confident person, and not just a plastic Barbie doll, right?! God forbid a woman can have agency and call out men on their bullshit, it would threat masculine privilege too much....

So, what exactly happened that bothered me so deeply? (Be aware I'm quoting by heart and not literally, as I didn't take screenshots and anyway I can't make gifs. Also, the following meta is just my interpretation of the implications running through subtext).

The first scene is very short, just six or seven seconds long, but it's a jewel in subtext and non-verbal communication. It takes place presumably after or around the moment Rachel tells Danny about Charlie: we see them from afar, clearly in a street-taken point of view, from an external observer. They are agitated and distressed, Rachel more than Danny, who's tensely spread on the bench with his arms looped behind the backrest, angling far from Rachel's compact and almost self-hugging frame.

They're distressed, not happy, not even remotely connecting to each other, so it's clear it's not a scene which could be envisioned as romantic. It's only a couple of seconds long, and then we see whose this external point of view belongs to: Amber. Amber who's not an idiotic, mellow, shallow doll. Amber who's been so clearly upset by Danny's lie about the texts, that she decided to follow him to the place Rachel had indicated. Amber who's been manipulated and controlled and abused long enough to become suspicious and self-preserving when someone she loves, and who knows her vulnerability, tries to play her around. Amber who looks at them, and clearly isn't angry nor jealous, because those few moments the actress uses to convey all of Amber's inner distress, are some of her best ones (giving that the actress, alas, is not very expressive to begin with), and we understand that she doesn't see any romance in the air. She's disappointed. She's hurt. Betrayed. Again.

Amber's face, in a handful of seconds, perfectly displays the devastating feeling of someone who finally felt safe and respected and secure, only to discover that it's yet another kind of control and manipulation, less cruel, less brutal, but not less humiliating and even worrying.

This is something she's learnt at her expense, and now that she knows the red flags, she cannot trust a man who can't be honest with her, not with this kind of problems, not with something which is clearly affecting his life to a deep level. He wants Amber to be a part of his life, but only if he can control the terms, limits, boundaries and times of their relationship. And Amber has been through it all before, and can't trust that history won’t repeat itself.

She then drives away, hurt and disappointment written all over her face.

The second deleted scene is even more important plotwise, because it explains Amber's absence as Danny’s plus one at Kono's wedding, after all the talk he did in the car about bringing some Amber's friend as Steve's date, and it casts a new light over Danny's reaction to Steve's resolve to ask Cath to marry him, or his tension about Lynn, or Amber's condistent absence for the whole first part of s6, or even Danny's and Amber's fight during their Valentine's dinner.

The scene is longer, about fifty seconds, and it supposedly takes place right at the end of the episode, after Danny pulls up at the hospital's parking lot, after Steve's affectionate text. He takes his phone out of his pocket again because he's received a voice-mail message.

A message from Amber (sorry, I noticed just now I'm still going with Amber instead of Melissa).

She says she's sorry to be doing this by voice-mail because she'd prefer to do it in person, but given their situation it's probably for the best if she spares them both the trouble to be forced to find shallow excuses. She says he's an amazing man, and that she likes what they have and that she thinks it might be real, and that she hopes he feels the same. She's understanding that his job comes first and it's terribly demanding, as she's also aware of how hard his life and his backstory is, with Grace and Rachel. This all considered, she thinks it's best if they stop and take a pause, so that he can reflect and decide if he wants to keep this thing going, but as for now, she can't keep seeing him on these terms.

Amber decided to stop seeing Danny until he decided what to do with their relationship and be honest with her, and started thinking seriously if he was just using her, as she probably felt.

Why?? Why did they cut this whole plotline? It's pivotal for Danny's arc, for his strained and angry attitude towards everyone, for his constant distress, for his even worsening negativity, for the way he's overcompensating with excessive euphoria to Steve's announcement about Cath, for how he meddles with them and confronts Cath about being honest, for how he's not thrilled about Lynn's insertion inside Steve's life.

Because he's alone, at that time. Call it temporary breakup or period of reflection or a break, but he was single and thinking, again, about everything he was doing wrong with his life and his relationships, and falling again into his old black hole of depression and self-sabotage, and seeing Steve going on with his life even at the cost of pretending he was happy with this woman he had supposedly no trouble cheating on, during their "couple retreat", making him wonder if either what he had with Lynn wasn't serious, or if his obvious charade about his threesome with Alyssa and her friend had a second meaning.

Also, they were probably both single again, or at least testing the waters, when they were at the retreat. And Danny definitely was when Cath left Steve once again abandoned, betrayed, and never-chosen in face of anything else.

Quite a lot of subtext to think about, for just 57 seconds which were, prudently, cut.

#h50 #mcdanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #h50 5x24 #danny/melissa unhealthy relationship #rachel edwards #h50 meta #h50 rewatch #h50 deleted scenes #h50 gag reels #long post #amber vitale #melissa armstrong #alex o'loughlin #scott caan

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gcldfanged · 2 months ago

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A lot of people kinda don't understand the effects of racism and I've noticed "this person turned out to be a racist" seems to just kinda be on the level of "meh" for most people, so I just wanna take a moment to describe something that happened to me and how it affected me on more than a personal level in an rpc:

Imagine you've been friends with and writing with a small group of likeminded folk, having a LOT of fun, even sharing some personal information since you've been hitting it off so well.

Then, while in an rp server with said friends, one of them posts a picture of someone who looks exactly like you, albeit with stereotypically offensive and exaggerated features with a sign indicating how unintelligent they are, but also implying that your birth country should be nuked off the face of the planet.

You aren't angry so much as shocked, the anger hasn't had time to settle in yet, so you ask "uhh, what the fuck lol" and nobody seems to bat an eyelash. In fact they're all in agreement that this depiction of your people is hilarious and would make a wonderful gift for the poster's history teacher.

You, again, ask for an explanation and point out the imagery is insulting and dehumanizing and point out they ALL KNOW you are from this country, only to be told by the admin of the server "Well, I can see you're upset. I'm sorry you got offended, but it's just political humor, it wasn't supposed to upset you. Nobody in this server is trying to upset you." so ultimately, you decide to leave. You're hurt and confused, but mostly still in a state of disbelief.

Your mutual friend who lives in a different timezone was still in the server and contacts you the next morning, indicating they also recently left but also expressed that the rest of server basically spent the entire night making fun of you for being 'so gd upset over nothing'.

Now you have to live with this knowledge that you've not only lost an entire group of friends and fellow writers, but you can't say anything in public about it for fear of "causing drama". So you keep silent, you don't say anything or drop names, you confer only with your friend who also left the server.

Then even close (or so you thought) mutuals start blocking you en masse and you still can't say a solitary word to defend yourself, for fear of losing what few friends you have left in this community.

Like, sure it's not so in your face as a public lynching, but this is HOW racism affects people like me. It's not simply an isolated incident of someone saying I'm a 'chinky-eyed, dog-eating bitch' who should go back to their own 'filthy country' and me getting to call them out in public and having all of my allies hug me and tell me I'm valid.

These people were supposed to be my allies. That is how deep-rooted and insidious racism is in society and it's a lot more than just name-calling and moments of outright bullying.

I see a lot of people saying they're not fans of bigotry and that it's 'against their rules', yet when people have DNIs on their profiles and carrds and outright say it's because of racism/bigotry, it's seen as a red flag??? or when drama does inevitably happen and receipts start getting dropped, both parties are blocked immediately?

I get not wanting to have conflict in your happy fun Barbie doll-smashing space, but if your friend is feeling unsafe and betrayed on that level, like... wouldn't you want to at least hear them out? Idk. I see a lot of massive double-standards where 'drama' is concerned and it just kinda makes me wonder whose comfort level I should really be prioritizing.

#◈ ooc #racism tw #vent warning

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mantispire · 1 year ago

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I’d love to hear your Ironqrow headcanons!

I have like an entire barbie dreamhouse with these characters in my head so I have legitimately hundreds... here are a few that might be the most interesting/whatever... I'm sort of shy about sharing this stuff. Laugh

I think they met back during the Vytal tournament and faced off in their one/one match. Qrow won + they kept contact over the years.

They have a /lot/ of really rough patches + a history of really bad arguments, usually hinging on Ozpin and his decisions/ their own stresses as a scout/headmaster/general/ the million other things Jame and Qrow both deal with over the years + both of their entire separate PTSDs

During the 'events of canon' ( v 1-3-> ) they're divorced and hadn't really spoken in years. I think they were married for a sort of comically brief time but it was a nightmare due to aforementioned ^ issues. They're both stubborn and have a lot of disagreements so I don't think the marriage was able to last + everyone around them knew it.

I headcanon that when they were most stably together ( like late 20's/early 30's? I need to figure out The Ironqrow Timeline in my head but that requires a lot of exploration I'm too tired to do right now ) that they tried to have a kid together. It didn't work out + both of them have a lot of feelings about it that stuck around even as they get older

Qrow ended up spending a lot of time away from James / away from Atlas especially while he had to help Taiyang raise the girls after Summer died. This didn't help their really patchy relationship -- just a lot of both of them being pulled apart by life's events.

Qrow was there with James ( as best as he could be ) as he underwent the years-long process of healing from the "paladin incident" -- lots of waiting with bated breath during surgeries and sitting at James's bedside and helping him through physical therapy etc etc etc. He was drinking at this time though and spends a lot of time regretting that he wasn't 'there' more, even though James just remembers Qrow's love and how faithfully he'd been there for him through a /lot/ of humiliating and horrible moments

I like to imagine ( in my dollhouse. This isn't relevant to canon at all. ) during v7/ Qrow's return to Atlas they start to patch things up, sort of mentally returning to the place they were when they met: one of mutual appreciation, slowly starting to undo a lot of their interpersonal problems and finding that ease and comfort with eachother once again that they'd lost. Like they come back to the metaphorical dusty empty home they left and start to clean things up. I think James would be a really big instrument in Qrow's stopping drinking and would have helped him through the process both physically and mentally. I just think they would slowly start to ease into one another, so much older now but also healed in a lot of ways. The world wont have been any better but they've both been through so much and can finally find that comfort in each other.

Qrow misplaces James's favorite fountain pen without thinking and James spends the whole day looking for it because he can't function without the specific pen he needs to use. Qrow returns it with an apology at the end of the day because he realized he'd accidentally put it in his pocket. James is just happy /he/ didn't leave it somewhere and it didn't get damaged or anything.

Sorry these got sort of serious... a lot of the silly ones are pretty contextual and small. but this is my ironqrowverse. I hope this all makes sense... thanks for reading, if anyone survived my rambling. LOL

#inquiry #ironqrow #qrow branwen #james ironwood #headcanons

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shadows-coffeebeans · 7 months ago

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Woo, new ask game time, am excite!

1, 3, 5, 8, 11, 12, 14, 16, 17, 19, 20, 22, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30, 32, 33, 38, 39!

I am so sorry this took forever to answer! I had it all typed out and tumblr refreshed before I could add tags 😭

1. what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

I would say definitely cartoons, my art and friends (mutuals are included >:3)

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

Luca (2021) (I watched this movie over 100 times in the first year, lost count at 30 times and it wasnt even the end of the month it released (it released on the 18th)), Barbie in Rock n' Royals and Lilo & Stitch 💥💥💥

5. what made you start your blog?

I made my original blog to read miraculous fanfiction (never posted on it til like june of 2021, even then i didnt post on it much). I abandoned that blog and made this one cause the embarrassment of it was too much.

8. any reacquiring dreams?

Every December I get a dream where a badly animated Santa's sleigh passes by. There's always people treating it like a ufo, using for clickbait and stuff. I always thought it was like a projection in the sky or something and I always wake up confused.

11. what do you consider to be romance?

Idfk man

12. what’s some good advice you want to share?

If someone isn't harming themselves or others, let them be. (if that counts for anything)

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

Be silly, to express myself‼️💥💥

16. if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Stop thinking about what others think of me and also stop failing my classes

17. name 3 things that make you happy

Friends (this includes mutuals as well <3), talking about tffs (and sonic) and drawing :]

19. favourite thing about the day?

I am awake to talk with friends (just assume when I say friends, I'm including my moots)

20. favourite things about the night?

The moon and stars <3

22. say 3 things about someone you love

I love talking about sonic with/to them, when they talk about their interests, when they go on random tangents (<- went more vague because I love too many people to choose)

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

My art improvement: ]

25. fave season and why?

Autumn, I know it's basic, but I just really like it :]

26. fave colour and why?

I cannot escape the purple

28. do you collect anything?

Hm, do the tags of random things I buy count?

30. what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

When someone leaves a comment in the reblogs on my art

32. how many tabs do you have open right now?

248 if you mean on chrome, 3 if you mean apps open (yt music, discord (on call) and notes app (where im writing this))

33. any hobbies?

Drawing, watching cartoons and reading fanfiction

38. fave song at the moment?

The disco cover for I Am All Of Me

39. youtuber you’ve been obsessed with and why?

Defunctland, I love having him on in the background when I do stuff

#hashtag ask shadow™#thatwordybirb #friend ask :]#ask game

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retrowaving1 · 1 year ago

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My painting of Basia in 2023 / My drawing of “the Queen” Basia (to the left) and princess myself as a cat ( to the right ) in 2010 - yes, I was a weird child :D

Despite the description, this post is going to be deeply personal One month ago, I lost my dearest friend and one of the most beloved family members - my cat Basia. She was fighting a lymphoma since 2020, when she also had a surgery, but even afterward, the problem returned and started progressing again. By the end of May, my mom, who, together with the rest of my family, currently lives in Ukraine, wrote me a message that Basia stopped eating and drinking, and had trouble walking. Clearly, she was in pain and couldn't function anymore. We made a painful mutual decision to put her down the next day, so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

That day, I called my parents on Telegram to say goodbye to my pet. She was looking very ill, she lost most of her weight, and her fur, once silky and smooth, was looking like hedgehog spines. I cannot choose the words (even in my native language, let alone English) to describe the emotional state I was in, knowing that I couldn't be there for her at that moment. I felt guilty and I was so sorry. However, there was nothing to be done. The next day, that was the 1st of June, her 14th birthday, a vet came over to my parents' house and sent her to her last, peaceful sleep. My parents buried her at a beautiful, safe place near the river together with her favorite toy, a mouse, which she had since she was a kitten.

Basia was an amazing cat. She was very loving and supportive, as much as a cat can be for a human, and even more. In a way, Basia provided me with advice, when I needed one, by gently biting me on my hand when I was misbehaving as a teenager and not accepting my abusive ex-boyfriend into the family, as if she was protecting me. She was an extremely wise pet. She also was my bestie. We were together since I was 8, and she was a 2 months old little piece of fluff. She used to support me through my pain and health issues, both physical and mental.

She was my painkiller and my inspiration. When we adopted Basia, I had been attending art school for about one year. I have always liked painting, but if before Basia I would paint trees and barbie dolls, after I got her - everything was about her. I used to paint her in different costumes, as if she was a human. Once I painted her on an a2 canvas in my school uniform and I think this work won some kind of competition, and even was hanging on the art school’s wall for some time (even though it actually was awful, if you ask me now XD).

I guess what I want to say is that I loved that cat so much I could honestly paint her forever and even write short stories about her, as she had her own character and her approach to life, and her eyes were always filled with some unattainable cat wisdom. I truly believe that this cat had a huge influence over my interest in arts and was my first-ever muse. Thus, the most reasonable homage I can pay her is her last portrait, which would capture her young, silky and beautiful, the way I remember her, sitting on the porch of our cottage.

Basia, my dearest pet to whom I owe so much, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in 2020, when you first got sick, and in 2023 when your time came, but I hope you didn't hold grudges against me at the moment when you found your final peace, as you have always been in my heart and no other pet will ever replace you. I still rewatch the videos of you, jumping and playing with your mouse, and I appreciate you so much for fighting this horrible disease for such a long time. You were always so strong. Thank you for all the happy memories and for all of your support throughout the years of our mutual friendship. Thank you for everything. I love you and may your cat soul, wherever it is right now, rest in peace.

_______________________________

#pet #cat #cat art #animals #artwork #art #artists on tumblr #cat painting #digital art #digital aritst #family #illustration #art progress #love my cat #basia

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star-mum · 6 months ago

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Hello darlings 💘 welcome back into my dark little batcave, for more delicious (I'd say delightful but I'll probably ugly cry during this so 🤷🏻‍♀️) Titans Content 💚❤️

“I have to believe that this dude we fought alongside - my friend - he’s not all bad.” goat line to start with, this is THE jaygar moment

"Jason needed to come home" *inhuman screeching*

" Dick kept telling that it would be okay - that he just had to believe in himself, blah blah" KSKSKSKKSS THAT EXACTLY WHAT HE SOUNDS LIKE TO ME !!!! ALL THE TIME !!!!

"the typical leader speech jargon that he used to convince people to do dangerous things" GET HIS AAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS

"‘nerd shirts’ with logos that he had no clue about the meaning behind, and band tees with logos for bands that he couldn’t stand the loud, angry music of" *screaming crying throwing up* me when the Opposites Attract

"Moment when he prayed that he would never see Jason again - because he never wanted the blood in his mouth to belong to Jason" sunny i am outside your house 🔪

"but Gar never truly felt like he was living on the same earth where Jason was not" also because not getting to see Jason (even if it was a closed casket service) makes it so much harder to comprehend he's gone

"Jason’s eyes flickered down and locked on Gar’s chest, or rather - fixated on his shirt" ... he can focus on two things at once

"It was almost like he could smell the fatal yearning coming off Gar" I SURELY CAN

"All that glee was slashed when he caught Jason in his old bedroom, packing a bag" 🔪 sunny I am outside DC headquarters (Im assuming this is also what he did in canon)

"but Gar would have run away with him. Jason didn’t have to be sentenced to solitude" if no canon in the world gets me, I know Sunny's Canon got me

I've been listening to the Titular Bitchlar song on loop this whole time by the way and YEEAAAAAHHHH THAT'S PRINCE BABYYYYY !!!! i love 80s music so much, it has such a distinct energy to it, and it's SO GOOD with the fic Obviously

"He knew Gar cared about him. Of course he did. But that was why he had to run. He couldn’t let Gar risk his place with the Titans for a murderous piece of shit like himself" I am clinking both of your head together like your my childhood lesbian barbie dolls

"he couldn’t fully blame Jason for Hank’s death. He knew that it was all a part of Crane’s plan. He knew that Jason was sorry" i know Gar is Extremely Biased and YES Crane was to the definition of the word Grooming Jason to do all his fucked deals but the way this is worded ia so fucking funny to me KSKSKSK like Jason is a misbehaving puppy and who chewed furniture "i know he blew up our mutual friend but he said he's sorry, look at him, he's just a little guy"

"And there had been something more there (something more between Dawn, and Hank, and Dick)" YESSSSSSS !!!!! THE DICKxDAWNxHANK TRUTHER !!!!!!!

" - Jason slipped a tee shirt over his head, and Gar couldn’t ignore the glaring shade of green" :3 nice

"He gripped the hem of the green shirt and didn’t hesitate to yank it up over Jason’s head" : O nooooooo "You can’t just take everything that belongs to me" WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCCKKKKKK

"You’re a fucking hypocrite. This is mine" 🫣 is it safe to come out now ? PLEASE I HURT

"If he had been a fly on the wall, perhaps he would have bowed at Gar’s feet, thanking him" and hey since you're down on your knees alrea-- *gunshots*

"Get your fuckin’ pants off. I know you’re not shy about stripping down, ya damn nudist" KSKKSKSKKSS this is the man I've chosen to love (he's not wrong tho)

"And if Gar wasn't mistaken Jason’s cock was bigger?" funniest effect the resurrection could've had honestly

It made a bit more sense when Jason frantically unzipped his would-be getaway bag - Lube" who do you fuck in the city when I'm not there? 🤨 YOU DON'T NEED THAT LEAVE IT AT THE MANOR, YOU WHORE"

"He almost added on: ‘I was thinking about you when I did it" good thing you didn't tho, cause that would've put Gar outta comission sksksksksk

Usually he was a motormouth during sex. was spitting out ‘fuckboy’-esque promises" cheers to that 🥂

"Missed this dick" is it tmi if I say this kinda shit absolutely destroys me, body and soul? "missed this dick/pussy" and I'm in the astral plane

"This was coming home" ✨💫

"Gar would give him all of those things, and he fucking will - but he couldn’t concentrate on that and delivering a quality fuck at the same time" KSKSKSKSK in it goes another one into the jar for lines that are comedic for no reason other than Fun 🩷✨

"Cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me" ... i guess we have a tmi jar now 😌

"There was still so much worry plaguing him" sit your ass down

"a particular part of his brain nagging at him - telling him that technically, he was still single. He shouldn’t get so attached to Gar anyway, because it would only hurt them both later on" just saving this... for no reason (this section of season 2 is always fucks me up when thinking of the on going self insert, it's good to be able to pick at their brains like this 👀)

"“I’ll come with you.” He said instead. “Hot shower sounds nice right about now" 😮😮😮😮😮 DAAAAAAAAMMNNNN ALRIGHT ALRIGHT

"So this surrender didn’t feel like a stain on his record - didn’t feel too much like giving up, after all" 🥺 i like them a normal amount (😩 waaaaaahhhh)

When Doves Cry

Jason Todd x Gar Logan

How can you just leave me standing - alone in a world that’s so cold? So cold. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

This fic is dedicated to a husband who has never given up on me.

Love is infinite, patient, and always welcomes you home.

Summary:

At Dick's insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane's deadly plan. Jason doesn't want redemption or forgiveness - he's done believing that he's worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again.

But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans.

Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

Word Count: 11,100

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a character x character fic - no reader character here; this is M/M; emotional angst - Jason's self deprecating inner monologue; Jason being emotionally constipated; mentions of Jason's past trauma - including being kidnapped by Deathstroke, and his canon suicide attempt; canon level violence (mentions of guns/gun violence, mentions of killing/mentions of Jason killing people); mentions of Jason's death and resurrection; mentions of Gar mourning Jason's death; mentions of Gar's canon trauma - being forced to murder people while under Cadmus' mind control, having brain surgery performed on him to achieve that mind control; implications of Dick/Hank/Dawn being in a poly relationship because I literally cannot help myself; mentions of Jason being injured from the confrontation that goes down at Wayne Manor in 3x13 (which is canon) - the injuries are vaguely described as 'bumps and bruises'; mentions of Jason's substance abuse - including the Anti-Fear Gas (which yes, even though it's fictional, is still substance abuse), alcohol, and implications toward other unnamed drugs; there is mentions of Jason/Rose - but in this version of things, their interactions were one single kiss and Jason never had any true feelings for her; because of his attraction to Rose - Jason is very much bisexual in this, and though it's not mentioned that Gar has been with a woman (or anyone aside from Jason lmao) - I always headcanon him as bi and write him as bi just so you know; mentions of Gar and Jason having a previous sexual relationship during their time living together at Titans Tower (but that relationship was purely sexual and not romantic); implications that The Pit changed Jason's body somewhat, including making his dick bigger; smut - M/M smut; biting/marking kink (from Gar toward Jason) - at one point, Gar bites down hard enough to draw blood; wet ?? humping/grinding; mentions of Jason and Gar masturbating; passing mention of sex toys (a dildo); anal sex with lots of (real!!!) lube; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (but there is no mention of STDs and technically they are monogamous even if they didn't discuss it, but irl you should always use one!! don't be like them); Jason bottoming while Gar tops; scent kink - Gar and Jason both really like the way that the other person smells; Jason is a power bottom at first and then becomes more submissive; Gar is very possessive/animalistic during sex; some dirty talk; emotional/passionate sex; creampie kink - Gar cums inside of Jason and they both really like it; a warning for literally licking wounds - Gar licks a cut on Jason's forehead that he has from the fight (this IS NOT blood kink - it's about him caring for Jason because his animal instincts are telling him licking the wound will make it better/soothe it) (btw I am not shaming those with a blood kink, I have written blood kink before and I love it - I just wanted to clarify the tone of the moment); this fic does have a happy ending if that makes you more motivated to read it. I believe that is actually, finally it.

A/N: In case it's not already clearly labelled - there is no reader character in this fic! It is very different from what I usually write, but I felt very inspired and the request that @nctzenkane gave me was just too good not to write. Jason and Gar have so much chemistry in the show, they are such an obvious ship, and they never even got to say goodbye to each other. (The writers make it so convenient that Gar is just not in the room during Jason's pivotal moments - sigh.) Anyway - I love JayGar as a ship and I feel like this fic sums up everything I love about them, as well as giving them the ending they should have gotten. They should have ended up together and Jason should have gotten forgiveness from the Titans family. I hope you guys enjoy this fic even though it's not like my typical stuff, and if you sit this one out - please know that this one did wonders for my creative flow as a writer, and I will be back with more amazing things later. Also, I know that this fic is gonna make my Top Ten Favourite Fics of the year when I make that list for 2024. I was not at all expecting to write this fic but I absolutely love it so much omg. Also - even though I started my taglist a little while ago, I decided not to use the taglist for this particular fic because it's so different from my usual stuff. But the taglist will be used for all upcoming fics.

...

“I have to believe that this dude we fought alongside - my friend - he’s not all bad.”

Gar purposefully put emphasis on those two words, trying his hardest to remind Dick of what Jason was to them. At least, what he should be. A friend. Even if Dick wanted to deny it, Jason had been a Titan once. He had been part of their family. Even if Gar was the only one who still remembered that; even if he was the only one who still remembered Jason’s good side. Even if Gar was the only one who had ever truly loved him - the others needed to remember what being a part of that family meant, and what their obligations were to Jason because of it.

No matter what Dick claimed, Jason hadn’t turned into some evil villain overnight. He had his own reasons for what he was doing, and that meant he could be reasoned with. (Gar knew that it was difficult to reason with Jason - but he knew it could be done.)

Dick’s silence was deafening. Maybe he didn’t want to tell his tender-hearted friend what he really thought of Jason now; those tiny streaks of things that he had been secretly thinking for a long time. Or perhaps - Gar was really getting through to him.

Jason needed to come home. Despite what everyone else believed: he could be saved.

…

All of it was Dick’s idea. Gar still wasn’t even entirely clear on half of it, but the bulk of it involved using his newly acquired - still very undeveloped - ability of turning into a bat so that he could fly up to Jason’s unlocked bedroom window and breach the house’s security system undetected.

No matter how much Gar stressed the fact that he can’t fly, Dick kept telling that it would be okay - that he just had to believe in himself, blah blah. The typical leader speech jargon that he used to convince people to do dangerous things. Gar felt like he shouldn’t have been so easily convinced, but he knew that a lot was on the line - he knew that Crane needed to be stopped. So he put aside sense and transformed, and flew off toward the window even though he barely knew how to control himself in this state.

He was so damn dizzy when he landed. He could taste vomit swelling up inside his mouth and he forcefully pushed it back down. The world was spinning around him in an utterly cruel way and he could barely comprehend anything - he was naked and he needed clothes, so grabbing Jason’s shirt off the floor was nothing but pure instinct. The smell of Jason’s stupid strong cologne - so entrenched in the bedroom’s walls, mixed with the natural musk of sweat in the bedsheets - it should have made Gar even more dizzy and nauseous, but instead, it grounded him. It made him feel safe.

Dig, if you will, the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me. Can you, my darling - can you picture this?

It was one of the only things that gave him a true, firm center while the world was spinning so damn hard, still undulating under his hands and knees while he dug his fingers into the expensive carpet, gritting his teeth with how much he absolutely hated the sensation.

Gar and Jason have always been the same size.

It was something they found out days into living together at Titans Tower, when Jason got out of bed and put on one of Gar’s favorite hoodies without a word. He never apologized for getting milk chocolate on it and letting it stain. From that point on, their wardrobe easily blended into one. Jason wore ‘nerd shirts’ with logos that he had no clue about the meaning behind, and Gar found himself wearing more black and more band tees with logos for bands that he couldn’t stand the loud, angry music of.

After Dick had confessed everything that had happened with Jericho, Jason pulled away on the screeching tires of his motorcycle, and ended up taking some of Gar’s clothes with him. This left Gar with the pain of accidentally pulling something out of his drawer that still smelled like Jason - sleeping in sheets that definitely still reeked of that strong cologne. In fact, Gar had been wearing one of Jason’s black hoodies on the night that Cadmus had stormed the Tower - on the night his life had forever changed.

In the present, when Gar left Jason’s room dressed head to toe in Jason’s clothes, it felt natural. It felt natural to be surrounded by that scent. It gave a certain kind of unconscious comfort to his overwhelmed instincts during such a chaotic time. It wasn’t even something he had put that much thought into. Instead, he was far more focused on using the remote Dick had instructed him to grab in order to disarm the alarm system - a task he was incredibly worried about getting right.

With Dick in his ear giving him instructions to defuse the alarm, even with the terrible itch of anxiety creeping down his neck - he felt a certain sense of safety from being wrapped in Jason’s clothes. Even when the sound of gunfire came from down the hall - something that nearly paralyzed him with fear, part of him still foolishly felt bulletproof because of that familiar shirt on his back.

When he rounded the corner, the first thing that truly made him freeze up during all of this was actually seeing Jason for the first time in so long.

It was a true shock to his system.

After all the talk of Jason - a death that he barely had time to mourn, so heavy in his heart and barely processed by his mind. After finding out that the person behind Red Hood’s mask had once been his best friend, somehow stolen from the morgue and woken up from what should have been a permanent sleep due to the treacherous waters of the Lazarus Pit. After spending all that time talking Dick’s ear off, trying to convince him to let Jason come home, where he truly belonged; after feeling so damn fruitless in doing so. After tracking down Molly, trying to stand united with one of Jason’s last true friends in an effort not to see him hurt.

After all of that, everything Gar had been through over the past few weeks, actually seeing Jason in front of him - it was like having ice water poured down his back.

He froze up standing there, and he knew that the expression on his face must have been that of dumbstruck delirium.

He hadn’t expected their reunion to be anything like this.

When Jason had first stormed out of Titans Tower, Gar had imagined that he would come back. Even after he had screamed at the top of his lungs, telling Dick to fuck off, and followed that up by screaming at Rose not to touch him when she had tried to grab his arm in some poor attempt at ‘comfort’, daring anybody else not to follow him - Gar had thought that it would be only a matter of hours before Jason came back.

At the time, he had texted Jason after everyone else scrambled out like cockroaches fleeing from the light, and he had told Jason that it was safe to come back because they would be alone together (save for Conner’s unconscious body). He had expected that statement alone would cause Jason to eagerly come running back.

He thought that it would be a predictable reunion.

Jason would come back puffy-eyed and stinking of booze, stumbling, furiously denying that he had even been upset, saying that he would never let Dick Grayson get under his skin. Slurring his words while also denying that he had been drinking and driving his bike - because he didn’t want Gar to ‘narc’ on him about it.

Gar would put him in the shower and douse him in cold water to sober him up while trying not to scold him about the potential of crashing the stupid speeding death machine due to being drunk. They would go to bed together and Jason would fall asleep holding onto him for dear life. And he would still make Jason the best hangover breakfast that vegan soy substitutes can offer (and Jason would complain about Gar not cooking with ‘real’ bacon, but he would still clean his plate). And Jason would sneak a kiss over the sudsy dish water that would turn into soapy grab-ass, and he would have wanted to fuck Gar across the kitchen counter just because nobody else was around to complain about it.

(Maybe that last part was just a fantasy Gar cooked up with his hand on his cock in his bed at the Tower when he was missing Jason a bit too much. But still, it felt like something Jason would do.)

When the days passed and Jason still hadn’t responded to him - still hadn’t come home, Gar tried to deny that he missed the mouthy asshole. He tried to weed those shirts out of his laundry so that he could stop being constantly reminded of Jason. He tried to keep his crying limited to the shower, or muffled into his pillow at night.

And then, he didn’t have to worry as much about that stuff, because he got distracted and busy when Conner woke up. Introducing the clone to the world, teaching him to be a Titan.

When he got his brain scrambled, between the taste of blood in his mouth and the distant sound of a done drill - memories of Jason flickered in front of him, and when he was present enough in reality, he knew that Jason running far away was a good thing. It meant that Gar couldn’t hurt someone like him. Someone he loved who didn’t have any meta powers to defend himself - someone who was only flesh and bone with no way to defend against a six hundred pound uncontrollable tiger pouncing on him.

There were moments of mental clarity, tiny little moments when Mercy wasn’t humming in his ear. Moment when he prayed that he would never see Jason again - because he never wanted the blood in his mouth to belong to Jason.

After Rachel helped him gain back control, he still wondered if he was capable of hurting Jason, even by mistake. He was almost glad when Jason rode away from Donna’s funeral in the opposite direction. (Almost.) Because that feeling of missing him came back harder than ever days after the funeral, when the dust had settled. When he realized that he was fully in control of his powers - working well as a Titan, and the only thing missing from the picture in his mind was having Robin right there by his side, working as the perfect duo Jason always knew they could be.

When Gar found out about Jason’s death, he felt numb. It had never felt real. Sure, denial is the first stage of grief - but Gar never truly felt like he was living on the same earth where Jason was not. He felt like the world should have stopped. Or at the very least - he should have gone down with Jason.

He kept imagining that someone would wake him up from the nightmare - that someone would shake him and he would wake up in his bed months earlier, with Conner still in a coma, only to find out that everything that had happened at Cadmus had been one big horrible dream. He would open his eyes to find out that Jason was still alive, waiting to sneak out and get veggie burgers with him at three in the morning.

But no. There was a grave in the backyard of Wayne Manor with his name on it - even if Gar had seen it empty after Dick had dug it up in a manic state. Just to make himself feel like he wasn’t totally crazy, Gar had searched through Bruce’s files and found Jason’s morgue paperwork, wanting to fully confirm that Jason had even died in the first place. After seeing the attached photos of Jason’s bashed-in skull caused him to lose his lunch, he knew then that it was very much real. It wasn’t just a horrific dream.

Jason had died and somehow been brought back from that.

Even then, Gar imagined their reunion to be very different from this.

But here he was - standing in one of the many hallways of Wayne Manor, staring Jason down like a deer in headlights, his heart pounding while his wide eyes fixated on the person he thought that he would never get to see again. Someone covered in bumps and bruises from a fight, looking much more worn down by the world than the guy who used to laugh at Gar’s shitty puns.

Dream, if you can, a courtyard- An ocean of violets in bloom. Animals strike curious poses. They feel the heat - the heat between me and you.

Jason’s eyes flickered down and locked on Gar’s chest, or rather - fixated on his shirt. Jason’s shirt that Gar was wearing. In a moment, he felt more naked than he ever did when he stripped down in public to transform. He felt so fucking caught. Of course Jason knew that Gar was wearing his clothes. Gar could have claimed that it was out of pure convenience, but somehow, as if he was part animal himself - Jason’s pupils dilated and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. It was almost like he could smell the fatal yearning coming off Gar, everything about him that said: ‘I love you, I missed you, I need you’.

“Jason-” Gar croaked out.

There was no chance for conversation.

A streak of movement behind Jason’s heavily armored shoulder realigned Gar’s priorities in a snap.

“Look out!” He shouted, pointing sharply behind Jason before he ducked for cover himself.

Jason didn’t hesitate - he fired his gun, taking the enemy out. He did a visual check of the hallway to make sure that nobody else was coming before he turned back to Gar - who was crouching tightly against one of the divots in the complex design of the old house.

“I’m here for you.” Jason said - finding that he felt far too naked in his own way with how utterly vulnerable this sounded.

Especially when Gar’s lips quivered, almost as if desperate to cry out for him, to thank him for coming home - something.

“I’m here to help. Dick sent me.” He quickly amended, attempting to clarify that this was all business.

Even though, with Gar’s large, glassy eyes staring him down - he couldn’t be sure that’s what it was.

He didn’t have too much time to grind through the details of it, though. They had to get through the business aspects of it or there wouldn’t be any personal details left to untangle because they would all be dead.

They split off, following a plan that Dick had carefully laid out, and Gar was proud when Tim and Dick led Crane out of the Batcave in shackles.

With the relief of knowing that they had won, Gar quickly set about finding Jason once again - to thank him, to ask him what their next move was, to kiss him - he wasn’t quite sure yet. But he felt gleeful.

All that glee was slashed when he caught Jason in his old bedroom, packing a bag.

He had stripped out of his Red Hood armor from the waist-up, and Gar was met with the shocking sight of bright purple welts smothered across the broad of his back. It made Gar’s natural urge toward sympathy ache, especially when it came to Jason. But that feeling conflicted with nothing but boiling anger at the sight of him furiously stuffing things into a duffle bag he had placed into the middle of his bed - clearly trying to rescue everything he could from his old life on the way out.

How can you just leave me standing alone in a world that’s so cold? So cold.

He was running away. Again.

“Going somewhere?” Gar asked, trying to sound tough when his voice was trembling at the very thought of Jason leaving him again.

If he was less mature, he would have dropped to the floor and thrown a catastrophic toddler fit, flailing his limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs. He would have demanded that Jason stay, telling him that he simply wasn’t allowed to leave.

He knew that it was selfish, but it just made Gar feel so disposable. The fact that Jason came into his life, made him laugh, made him smile, fucked him like they were in love, made him care - and then he wanted to run away like Gar meant nothing to him. He knew that Jason had his own issues - a list of problems and past traumas longer than his arm, but Gar would have run away with him. Jason didn’t have to be sentenced to solitude.

All these thoughts caused a sheen of tears to form in Gar’s eyes - the sadness battling with the anger inside his chest. He was threatening to spill those tears by the time Jason whipped around - partially startled, partially angry that his plans to disappear again had been disrupted.

Jason mirrored back his own wet eyes at seeing Gar so upset, but quickly blinked the tears away.

“I was never here.” He quietly croaked. “I can’t-”

“You can’t ‘what’?” Gar barked back, cutting him off.

This was the most cruel way that he had ever spoken to Jason, but he was fed up, to say the least. All of the emotions that he had been politely festering with now boiled over. The grief, the mourning, the loneliness - all of it spilled over at once.

“You can’t stay?” He asked, raising his voice in anger. “You can’t admit that someone actually cares about you for you for once in your fucking life?”

Maybe I’m just too demanding. Maybe I’m just like my father - too bold.

Jason’s face quivered at this.

He knew Gar cared about him. Of course he did. But that was why he had to run. He couldn’t let Gar risk his place with the Titans for a murderous piece of shit like himself. He threatened to break into sobs and he forced himself to become steel. Without Crane’s drugs running through his system, he felt even more weak and chaotic - but he couldn’t let Gar be the drop of water that broke his dam after all these weeks.

“I can’t stay.” He said solemnly, his eyes glued to the floor, refusing to look at Gar. “I - I can’t… stay.” It hung in the air for the moment as the words truly sunk in for him. He had been so busy packing in order to flee that he hadn’t even fully realized why. Now it was even more painful. “They won’t let me.”

The realization pierced through Gar’s heart like a knife.

This wasn’t just about him. Of course it wasn’t.

The thing that he had been fighting for, fighting against all this time - the idea that Jason wasn’t even worthy to come home because he was some crazed killer. Gar wasn’t the only one who got a vote. Gar wasn’t the only one to claim love for him or deny him.

If Gar’s love for him was the only thing that mattered, then the whole thing could have been smoothed over weeks ago. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have left in the first place. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have been balanced on the edge of a roof about to jump off while Gar had been sleeping.

Gar wheezed out a harsh breath - almost as if the pain of the realization had literally pierced his lung, and he was having difficulty breathing because of it.

“Stay.” Gar begged, hardly realizing that he was crying openly now. “I’ll talk to Dick, I’ll-”

Maybe you’re just like my mother: She’s never satisfied.

“I can’t.” Jason said bitterly, entirely defiant. “You know I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Especially not after Hank.”

There was a careful kind of mourning in Jason’s voice when he said the name - and potently, he flipped back around then, unable to face Gar after bringing it up. He continued to pack his bag as Gar stared at his back, his throat tightening harshly around everything that he had to say in reply.

Gar loved Hank as a friend - as a mentor, someone to look up to. But even now, he couldn’t fully blame Jason for Hank’s death. He knew that it was all a part of Crane’s plan. He knew that Jason was sorry. Before, that fact was something he had based solely on his knowledge of Jason - but now he could base it on Jason’s very clear guilt towards the situation.

Gar knew that if he told Dick that he forgave Jason for Hank’s death - it would put them on bad terms. Dick had known Hank for longer. And there had been something more there (something more between Dawn, and Hank, and Dick). Something that made that scar extra tender for Dick.

Gar had to find a better way to explain it. Perhaps tell the team that he had once been a pawn himself - he had been to Mercy Graves what Jason was to Crane. And he knew that if she put him alone in a room with Hank and told him to kill, he couldn’t have been sure that his sterling morals and his willpower alone would have held up against everything that she did to him.

Why was the situation with Jason any different?

Why were they so determined not to forgive him?

Out of the corner of his eye, something broke up his contemplative thinking - Jason slipped a tee shirt over his head, and Gar couldn’t ignore the glaring shade of green that said it was one of his. It caused a possessive streak to roll through him - he had a difficult time holding back a feral growl as it flared up in his throat.

It made him only able to focus on one thing.

“What about before?” Gar croaked out, disappointment apparent in his voice.

Jason looked over his shoulder with gentle confusion, and he felt the need to clarify.

“What about everything that happened before Hank?” Gar rephrased the question. “Doesn’t that matter?”

Why do we scream at each other?

Jason wanted to say - yes, of course it does.

But it felt so much more complicated than that.

“Gar-” He barely choked the name out before he was cut off.

Gar couldn’t stand to hear more excuses - more reasons as to why Jason was going to cut and run. He reached a hand up to Jason’s neck and pulled him into a kiss before anything else could come spilling from his mouth.

It felt like trying to desperately claw his way into the front door of a home he once knew - a house that was now cold and abandoned as Jason stood stalk still, purposefully not kissing him back. Jason wasn’t letting him in - not giving him a single sign that there was any love left there. That there had even been love here in the first place.

Deep down, Jason was terrified. If he gave in and kissed Gar back - he would be done for. He would be opening himself up to a world of hurt that he once thought he could erase with doses of Anti-Fear Gas.

Gar was used to playfulness; teeth nibbling on his lips, laughter in the air. He was used to a hand reaching for the tie on the front of his sweatpants while that cocky voice muttered lustful ‘threats’ against his mouth - something about how he was ‘going to get it’ - when in actuality, Jason was always the one who ended up a moaning mess on his cock.

Tears spilled hotly from the corners of his eyes and a sobbed choked out from the back of his throat when Jason was completely still against him. He was being so coldly denied - Jason was like stone, fighting off everything he had missed most from Gar because he still felt like he had to run, and this was nothing more than a distraction from that.

“Please.” Gar wept against his mouth.

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but - Jason didn’t move.

This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

Gar pulled back harshly then. When his wet eyes fell to the Triforce printed in the middle of Jason’s chest, further signaling that it wasn’t his shirt (because he likely had no clue what the symbol meant or what it even was) - Gar felt a wave of rage overtake him. He gripped the hem of the green shirt and didn’t hesitate to yank it up over Jason’s head. Rather than the typical heat that this action would lead to, there was nothing but bitter tension in the air as Gar waved the ball-up fabric in front of Jason’s face.

“This is mine.” He choked out, barely holding back a wave of sobs. “So - so if you’re leaving, you can’t take it with you. You can’t be that much of an asshole. You can’t just take everything that belongs to me.”

Gar choked on his own words, holding back more.

They both knew that the words held a dangerous double meaning. If he was going to run, he would be taking so much that belonged to Gar - so much more than some fabric that they had once blissfully shared.

He would be ripping Gar’s heart out of his chest and taking it with him.

Jason looked at him with tears now leaking from his eyes. Oceanic blue swimming in bloodshot red - not a pretty sight, by any means. He took in a heavy breath, but his stomach was visibly trembling where he was holding in his own sobs.

He wanted Gar to tell him to stay. He didn’t want Gar to be okay with him leaving - he wanted it to be such a fight that he couldn’t just walk away.

Touch if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. You’ve got the butterflies all tied up. Don’t make me chase you - even doves have pride.

Gar - still feeling the need to comfort Jason, even stewing in all his anger toward this man he called lover, enemy, or friend - dropped the shirt on the floor and reached out, smoothing his hands over Jason’s hips. He leaned in and laid the most feather-light butterfly kisses across Jason’s shoulder, and Jason choked on another sob.

Gar smoothed a hand over Jason’s stomach, and under the intense heat of Gar’s large palm - his muscles calmed. Any cries of anguish died off inside of him and he was able to gather enough breath to speak as Gar laid a gentle cheek on his shoulder.

“You - you can’t do this.” Jason whispered, the weakest protest he could have come up with.

Gar only hummed in response. This close to Jason, he could almost feel that thing inside Jason, yearning for him, crying out to him.

He knew that Jason didn’t want to leave. He knew that if he was patient, Jason would crumble to the need as much as he was.

He already felt as though he had won.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” Jason added on, his words slightly steadier now. He curled his fingers into the fabric of the shirt Gar was wearing - the one he had picked up off of Jason’s bedroom floor when he had landed. “This is mine.”

Gar wanted to make some sarcastic jest about how he wasn’t planning on leaving while wearing it - but he became choked up at how the words sounded. As though Jason was truly claiming him - something he had been waiting to hear for so damn long.

He lifted his head to ask if it was true - if Jason would stay for him or if they could flee together - but Jason caught the back of his neck and slammed their lips together, stealing any words that Gar was planning to speak.

There was a certain fierceness that followed next - a battle of stubborn wills that was as stiff and tense as their words.

Passion and love and anger are spears all lined up on the same fence, all equally sharpened - Gar was still angry with Jason for leaving in the first place and never coming back. He still blamed Jason for all those months of bitter loneliness that he had felt, for being left there in the Tower with no help when Cadmus had attacked. Deep in the back of his mind, there was a fantasy of the night they attacked - of Beast Boy and Robin operating as the perfect team to snub out evil.

Jason was still mad at Gar for not chasing him, for not asking him to come home. Mad at him for not making more of an effort, for siding with Dick on seemingly everything.

He had no clue how hard Gar had fought to bring him home. How much Gar’s voice had burrowed into the ears of the others, especially Dick, being the only remaining one to speak up, vouching for Jason’s good side. If he had been a fly on the wall, perhaps he would have bowed at Gar’s feet, thanking him.

But instead - these lopsided views created a bitter stubbornness. Something that made the kiss feral and angry - gnashing teeth and hot, hard breaths as they grabbed and groped at each other, battling with their own anger and swelling up with that love they tried so hard to deny.

Why bother staying so angry with someone if you didn’t care about them? Why take that much time and effort to be pissed off if you wouldn’t just forgive the person out of love at the end of the day?

Jason ripped off Gar’s shirt - the borrowed shirt that only further reminded him of everything he had missed out on, the home he couldn’t come back to. He threw it to the floor, trying his best to forget about it - but this only made way for Gar’s hot skin underneath his own, forcing more temptation as they made more skin-on-skin contact.

He let out a kind of wounded sound when Gar gripped the back of his head and swept down, his mouth tracing along Jason’s neck, digging his teeth in. He was still unsure if he was trying to claim Jason in that animalistic way and make it impossible for him to leave or if he was just taking that anger out on him, trying to cause a little bit of pain - trying to make Jason feel a fraction of what he had felt. Either way, his teeth were savage and frantic on Jason’s skin, and Jason’s nerves screamed pleasurably with the full effects of it.

“Fuck,” Jason moaned out as Gar sunk his teeth in harder. “Fuck you.”

Gar was about to make some clever reply - the typical ‘you should’ or ‘I’m trying to’.

But he was caught off guard, silenced when Jason put a hand in the middle of his now bare chest and shoved him back toward the bed - causing him to sprawl beside the bag that Jason had been trying to steal away with. He poofed out across the luxurious, expensive mattress; there was a worrying second as he looked up at Jason when he believed that Jason might just pick up that bag and run.

He could use this as his opportunity to flee.

But instead, Jason eyed him up and down heavily - lustful eyes casting a thick gaze over Gar’s body. Looking over every inch of him carefully, from his now ruffled hair, down across his heaving chest, to the place where Jason’s borrowed pants were hanging low on his hips - the thickness of his hard cock very apparent between his thighs with no underwear on underneath them.

Jason knew it was temptation. Fondness.

At the time, perhaps he considered it ‘one last hurrah’. But in truth, it was the breaking point - the point of no return. The point at which Gar had truly hooked him in and reeled him back. Between those big, beautiful brown eyes staring up at him with a combination of intense affection and fear at the possibility of him leaving and that fat cock practically calling to him - Jason was done for.

Jason reached for the button on his own pants, and Gar remained frozen for a moment.

“Well,” Jason said impatiently. Gar still didn’t move, unsure what was expected of him in that moment. “Get your fuckin’ pants off. I know you’re not shy about stripping down, ya damn nudist.”

Gar felt the tension leave his body with a stiff exhale. He wanted to make some smartass comment, but found himself lacking. Instead, he became distracted by rushing to get the pants off and watching the flexing of Jason’s muscles while he worked to get his own pants and boots off.

All he could muster up was:

“You - you’re an asshole,” Gar chuckled out, throwing Jason a genuine smile as he kicked the fabric off his ankles, leaving himself wonderfully bare in the middle of the bed.

Gar’s eyes traced over Jason’s naked body - he seemed more thick and muscular than the last time Gar had seen him. Had he been training harder in the time that he’d been gone? Though his overall build was still much the same - matching Gar in stature, though Gar’s muscles were leaner and softer compared to Jason now. And if Gar wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s cock was bigger? Though that seemed more like a trick of the eye. (Though, it was still a good two or three inches smaller than Gar’s, which Jason often called ‘monstrous’ and joked that he could barely walk after taking.)

Gar didn’t have too much time to admire Jason’s nudity before Jason was on top of him, bumping their cocks together as he climbed onto Gar’s lap.

Gar let out a harsh growl from deep within his chest at the feeling of his sensitive dick being touched by someone else for the first time in months - for the first time since Jason had stormed away from the Tower in a fit. Since then, he’d had nothing but his own hand and distant memories of Jason fueled by the fading smell on the clothes he’d left behind.

Even then, it’s not like he had the opportunity or even the desire to touch himself all that often - not with the chaos going on in his life. So having a warm body in his lap again - the warm body of someone he had missed so fucking much - it reignited the fire inside of him like poking holes in a gasoline tankard and lighting a match.

“Fuck, Jay.”

Gar reached up and tightly, possessively grabbed Jason by the ass, pulling him closer instinctively. This caused the echo of a whimper from within Jason’s throat as he bent down to take Gar’s lips again. Jason’s hands planted firmly on the hard muscle of Gar’s chest and Gar kept that needy grasp on Jason’s ass - wanting to keep Jason as close to him as possible.

The touch quickly turned into moving Jason on top of him, grinding Jason’s body on top of his so that their cocks were gyrating together - a perfectly filthy clash of hot skin that fit together so well after they had been apart for too long.

They moaned into each other’s mouths and Jason forced his tongue past Gar’s sweet, pink lips - as if he was still trying to put up that fight, still trying to show that he held some power over the man underneath him. Gar’s cock was leaking furiously and soon the slide of their two cocks became wet and glossy while Gar’s bright pink cockhead was continually nudged against his stomach, making a mess against his abs and staining slickness all over Jason’s eager, throbbing dick.

“Fuck. Fuck, man.” Jason hissed, pulling away from the kiss, a new urgency pumped into him.

Gar felt a slight streak of disappointment when Jason looked away from him - like a fictional pixie, fading away for the slightest moment without Jason’s attention. The feeling was doubled when Jason took the touch of his chest. He actually found himself whimpering like a pathetic puppy as he wondered what Jason was doing.

It made a bit more sense when Jason frantically unzipped his would-be getaway bag - rifling through the pockets, ripping out spare underwear and - fuck, of course, more of Gar’s bright green shirts that he had stolen - until he came back with a bottle in hand.

Lube.

Of course. Of course that would be something Jason considered to be an essential to travel with when he was stealing away into the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

Gar would have made some kind of joke about it, but he found his mouth dry, and he was far too horny and mesmerized, his blood pumping through him at top speed as he watched Jason. Who uncapped the bottle and squirted some onto his fingers - then his hand disappeared behind him while he tensed his thighs and hiked his body higher up onto his knees, clearly with the intent to finger himself open in preparation for Gar’s cock.

Gar huffed out hot breath.

It had been so damn long.

He felt his cock pulse with fierce need and spurt out more pathetic spurts of precum, making his stomach even more shiny as it began to pool inside his belly button. He rubbed his hands lovingly over Jason’s thighs as he continued to watch with the utmost rapture, his eyes drinking in every single inch of the beautiful body in front of him - the flexing muscles, the sharpness of Jason’s hips, the thickness of his thighs, the way his perfect, modest cock bobbed between his thighs while he worked. His plump, pink bottom lip snagged between his teeth while he tried to contain his moans. Something that turned the sounds into the most beautiful little grunts that Gar had ever heard.

After a few moments, Jason pulled his fingers from himself with a sinfully wet sound, and then he reached for the bottle of lube again. Gar was surprised though when he went straight to pouring the shockingly cool liquid across Gar’s cock.

Typically it took them a lot more work to get Jason ready to take Gar, seeing as he was a bit longer than nine inches, impressively thick - and though he tried his hardest to be gentle - when Jason begged him and nagged him with purpose, he could sometimes get carried away. (Jason claimed that he liked the feeling of soreness afterwards, but Gar sometimes felt guilty for letting go of self control and pounding into Jason like an animal.)

“You - you want more help?” Gar choked out.

With Jason’s hand on his cock, spreading the wetness, he was already pushing his orgasm down past the onslaught of sensations - the lube warming under Jason’s hot touch, the purposefully loose grip that Jason had on his dick that just made him itch and made him want more.

Jason grunted in reply.

“I fucked myself this morning.” He said, distinctly not making eye contact with Gar. Instead, continuing to stare at his own hand as he picked up the bottle and poured more wetness around his grip on that impressive, thick cock, and then spread it around.

He almost added on: ‘I was thinking about you when I did it.’

But somehow, even now - that felt too emotionally vulnerable.

Gar quickly became swallowed up by heated thoughts of this. He became consumed by the visual image of Jason splayed out on a bed somewhere, (wherever he had been staying since he had left), fucking himself with his fingers shoved deep inside his well-lubed hole while his other hand moved frantically on his cock. Or even better, pounding a toy inside of himself like the one Gar had found snooping through his room while looking for anything he could use to help Jason against Crane.

He would look so fucking good like that, spread open on the unforgiving thickness of the silicone, desperate whines and moans coming from his lips because it was good, but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t perfect like having Gar’s hot body on top of him while Gar’s big cock carved out a spot deep inside his guts-

While Gar was distracted by these thoughts, Jason took the opportunity to line up the now well-lubed dick with his prepped hole and sink down onto Gar without another word. This caught Gar off guard, stealing his breath in the best way. It was smooth and slick and he didn’t waste a second before putting his entire body weight onto Gar, letting his ass rest flush with Gar’s pelvis so that Gar’s impressive cock was fully inside of him.

“Jay - oh, fuck.”

Gar let out a chest-rattling moan and quickly became dizzy, and it didn’t even occur to him that Jason had skipped putting a condom on him. So, this was the first time that he was bare inside Jason, absolutely no barriers between them. He couldn’t mentally comprehend it, and all he could think was - of course it was hotter, of course it felt better - he hadn’t seen Jason for so long, he had forgotten how perfect Jason felt around him, he had forgotten that it felt this fucking good.

“God, fuck, Gar, your dick-” Jason mumbled out, clearly lost in a haze of pleasure himself.

Jason didn’t waste a second - with Gar too pleasure-numb, Jason simply took what he needed. He planted his hands on Gar’s chest while Gar’s hands rested dumbly on his thighs, and he began frantically bouncing up and down on Gar’s dick, impaling himself on that beautiful big cock, quickly creating a good rhythm. He watched with awe and swelling adoration as his eyes locked on the man below him.

Gar looked so perfect like this.

His body was a sculpture of perfection, like Adonis himself, carved from marble. Every single time Jason got him naked in bed, he wondered how the hell he had gotten so lucky. With his pink lips parted as increasingly loud moans escaped him and his brows creased with pleasure, bits of that distinct green hair stuck to his forehead from the efforts. His stomach fluttering and flexing every single time Jason slammed his hips down and took Gar back inside him fully, Gar’s body glistening with sweat, slick from their encounter so far - he was a picture of perfection, not a single flaw that Jason could pick out.

And while his hole was tingling with the pleasure of having Gar inside him again and his cock was throbbing as it danced between them, beginning to sputter out precum now - he was beginning to ache with a brand new need.

He was chasing a sexual need, of course, but he was also growing frantic with an emotional need that he had pushed down for so many months. He had missed Gar so fucking much. So much it hurt - and he had used so much to try and forget about it - the Anti Fear gas, the intense focus on Crane’s mission, the booze, the distance.

But now it was all right here in front of him - those moans he had missed so much, that green hair, the smell of someone so distinct that he had tried huffing off clothing like a drug that he couldn’t buy anywhere off the street. He swallowed thickly and tried his best to hold back tears, and was only reminded of this more when Gar’s fingers dug into his hips - a firm but loving grasp that only more deeply reminded him of who he was fucking. Reminded him of what he had missed out on.

“Dammit,” Jason huffed out. “Fuck - your-your cock is so good,”

Usually he was a motormouth during sex. He was infamous for never shutting up until his orgasm hit him like a truck. If it was spitting out ‘fuckboy’-esque promises that he never could keep because he usually wasn’t the one fucking Gar’s brains out (but rather, mindlessly taking a cock), or horny blabbering as he begged for more - his tongue was constantly sputtering out something while Gar touched him.

So he thought that talking would be a good distraction from the horrible knot in his gut - from this thing that he was feeling. He didn’t need to deal with those stupid fucking feelings right now. He just didn’t.

“So fuckin’ big.” Jason whined. “You feel so good inside me.”

Gar grunted in return, taking a tighter hold on Jason’s hips and helping more now. He helped Jason slam down harder, causing a harsher collision of their skin each time - a sharp, wet slapping that sounded absolutely sinful in the room. It made Jason feel fuller somehow, and he let out a downright whorish sound, struggling to get out his next words.

“God - I - fuck -” He whined. “Your cock - Gar - you feel so-”

“Yeah.” Gar breathed back in reply, encouraging him. “Yeah, Jay.”

With another hard slam of Gar’s hips up into his hole, Jason’s mouth was knocked loose.

“Missed this dick.” He breathed out. “Missed this - missed this so much. Missed you.”

It was a stubborn admission that even the world’s harshest torture couldn’t have pulled out of him. But the feeling of Gar’s cock deep inside of him, those fingers digging into his flesh like he owned Jason - that was enough to have his tongue loosening around his secrets and have him spilling into vulnerability like it was his fucking job.

Jason didn’t have enough time for the sting of regret to settle over saying the words, because something inside Gar snapped. The mourning in Jason’s voice, knowing that Jason has missed him just as much - he went from dumb and lustful as Jason bounced on his cock to swelling with that passionate anger once again. He had missed too much time with Jason, and he needed to make up for it. He needed Jason to know that he couldn’t just run away - that he mattered.

He became filled with the determined need to show Jason that he couldn’t leave - he could never leave, because Gar had missed him too.

Gar loved him. Gar needed him.

They needed each other.

Gar grabbed him around the waist and with a deep growl that was truly bordering on animal this time, he flipped Jason over onto his back. His cock slipped out of Jason, slick from the lube, causing Jason to make a startled, disappointed noise as he suddenly felt far too empty. When Gar leaned over Jason and felt Jason’s getaway bag brushing against his knee, a swell of offense came over him. He reached for the bag, shoving it off the bed without a second thought - spilling clothes and other random items across the floor out of the open zippers, something that neither of them paid any mind to in the following hours.

“Please, Gar-” Jason breathed out, and from there, anything else in the world was shut out for him and Gar.

Maybe what they had done before could never be considered making love - but they certainly had their moments. Times when Jason would kiss Gar’s forehead after making him cum, before getting out of bed without a word. Times when Gar grabbed both of Jason’s hands and interlocked their fingers while he rocked his cock deep inside of him. But for the most part, they fucked filthy and horny and desperate. They fucked like two guys in a race to get each other off - and it worked for them.

But this felt different.

As Gar slipped his cock back inside of Jason, he locked eyes with the man below him and a spark ran through him that said this was different. This wasn’t turning to the closest warm body out of convenience or boredom. This wasn’t just a friendship with some very particular, spectacular benefits. This was the intense gaze of a lover, locked into a stare that said the rest of the world was locked out, completely forgotten just because Gar was touching him.

This was coming home.

This meant that nothing else mattered - no past transgressions, no supposed mistakes, no demanding corrupt figures that had used them as pawns in their own games - none of it could even be seen as Jason locked his knees around Gar’s lower back, holding him tightly in place, silently begging him not to go too far.

A quiet: please, don’t leave me, I need you.

I need you just as much as you need me. I swear it.

Gar held back more tears, and his next huff of breath turned into another low growl - a sound that had Jason whining quietly and clenching down on his cock. That hint at his more animal side had always been something Jason had liked - especially knowing that Gar was the most tame ‘beast’ he had ever met. Ironic, considering that Gar could turn into a six hundred pound tiger and he could shred people with his teeth at will. But Gar was the most gentle person Jason had ever known - someone he trusted with his life within a day of knowing him. Someone better than his own blood relatives and shitty foster ‘families’ who had tossed him out onto the street without a second thought.

Gar was never a beast, no matter what he was capable of.

“Please.” Jason begged, his voice slightly choked and breathless.

He held on tightly to the side of Gar’s face, the other hand straying around to grip the back of Gar’s shoulder - and though Gar’s cock was already throbbing and threatening to blow far too early, he knew he couldn’t deny Jason any longer.

Gar pressed his forehead into Jason’s neck, unable to stand the piercing interrogation of that gaze - looking for atonement, looking for validation, looking for love. Gar would give him all of those things, and he fucking will - but he couldn’t concentrate on that and delivering a quality fuck at the same time. Jason deserved that, too. He deserved to cum in a spectacular and satisfying way.

With his concentration a bit steadier, Gar began to fuck his hips forward - fucking into Jason in slow, smooth strokes.

“Jay, fuck,” He moaned out. “So fucking good. You’re so fucking good.”

Jason let out a high whine in return and Gar sped up his hips - fucking into Jason faster, but nowhere near as fast as Jason had been riding him. It was still so tender and slow, deep and firm as the thickness of his cock truly made a home inside of Jason that reminded them both exactly where he belonged.

Jason’s voice warbled - becoming nothing but a nonsensical echo of weak sounds dispersing into the air. Gar couldn’t help himself; he kissed a trail from the middle of Jason’s chest up his neck once again, taking the time to lay a few more possessive bites across Jason’s neck before he reached his face. When he felt roughness under his lips, it truly sunk in that Jason had been hurt - he had picked up a few injuries while fighting to defend him and the other Titans. Jason had put his body on the line for them.

How could Jason ever be bad if he was willing to get hurt in order to protect his family?

A swell of passion and possessiveness streaked through him again.

His tongue sneaked out of his mouth and he licked over the cut above Jason’s eye like a cat trying to lick the wound clean, all of his instincts heightened with the lust pumping through him. Something in his lust-drunken brain was screaming at him that Jason needed this care, and nothing more than the saliva from his tongue would make Jason feel better.

He did this, kitten licking across the cut, while he continually ground his hips deeply against Jason’s, stuffing his cock ever deeper into Jason’s needy hole. It made for a breath-taking combination of care, attention, and heat that made Jason’s stomach curl.

“Gar-” He gasped out. “I - ah - fuck!”

Gar gave another little lick and then moved to grab both of Jason’s hands, entwining their fingers on both sides as he had done in the past. Previous times Jason had laughed about it or called him cheesy, or even suggested that Gar use handcuffs instead if he truly wanted to pin Jason down. But this time, as Gar brought the grip of their tangled hands up above Jason’s head and continued fucking him so deeply. Jason only let out another shuddering gasp and looked Gar in the eyes with a glassy look that said he was truly gone.

He had surrendered everything to Gar now.

He couldn’t have run from this if he tried.

“Come on,” Gar grunted, slamming his hips a little harder, a little more determined - pulling back a bit more, going a bit deeper. It was a motion that pulled louder sounds from Jason, that made him tremble.

“Cum for me.” He breathed into Jason’s ear. “Cum on my cock - so good for me. Cum for me, show me how much you missed me.”

Gar kept Jason pinned by their joined hands and by his hips holding Jason tightly to the bed. With his cock slamming into Jason in fierce, heavy, hard strokes - and with Jason’s cock jostling between them, brushing against Gar’s impossibly hot stomach - it was difficult for him to deny the order. With those words spoken in that perfect voice, floating in his ears, the orgasm shot through his body like his soul awakening - like he was truly feeling himself for the first time since he had woken up after The Pit.

“Shh - shit! Ah! Fuck!”

He gasped and struggled to get air into his lungs, and Gar cloaked his mouth over Jason’s gaping lips, fucking him right through it. Jason’s cock jumped and jolted between them, painting both their stomachs with his cum while his hole tightened and clenched around Gar - while he shook beneath Gar and tightly grasped Gar’s hands.

It was utterly perfect.

“Please, please, please-” Jason gasped, frantic.

He needed Gar to cum, too. He needed the feeling to be complete.

Gar let out another growl, shoving his head into Jason’s neck, taking a healthy whiff of his sweat as he fucked his hips hard into Jason.

“Mine.” He growled possessively into Jason’s skin. “Mine, mine, mine-” He punctuated each slap of his hips into Jason’s ass with the word, his mind filled with this as though it were the one true thing in the world.

“Mine.”

A final pathetic dribble of cum escaped Jason before Gar’s cock began pumping into him. As he came, Gar’s teeth latched onto his neck once again, biting down hard enough to pull blood this time - creating a twinge of copper under Gar’s tongue and wringing even more inhuman sounds out of Jason.

Gar pressed his hips as deep as possible into Jason, making them both utterly high on the feeling of his cum fucking deep into Jason for the first time. Jason feeling it so warm inside of him and having it pool and leak down over Gar’s balls - it only further reminded them how utterly close they were, how deeply Gar had marked Jason, how Jason was cursed to return back to Gar because he needed this - it was a deep reminder of how Gar was his home.

Tears leaked from Jason’s eyes and Gar licked them away, grinding his hips deep into Jason - causing stray whimpers and aftershocks of pleasure while his cock began to soften.

“God, oh-”

“I know.” Gar replied, his voice more ragged than he imagined it should be.

When he pulled out, it felt like a shock to both of their systems. Too empty, too distant - even still so close to a warm body, too cold.

Jason’s first instinct was to get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. Especially feeling the stickiness and the mess all over his body as he came down from the high. But Gar rolled onto his back and put a tight arm around his back.

“Sleep now.” Gar told him, puffing out an oddly cute little yawn. For someone who had just fucked his brains out - he now resembled a sleepy little house cat.

Jason found that he couldn’t really argue with that.

…

Even though Jason was exhausted and hadn’t slept much in the past few weeks, he woke up long before Gar did.

There was still so much worry plaguing him.

Oddly enough, Gar’s snoring was more of a comfort than it was a disturbance. It reminded him of sharing a wall with Gar when their bedrooms had been so close together; when he had laid awake at night after scurrying out of Gar’s bed at top speed after they had fucked, wondering what it would have been like if he had decided to stay.

Back then, it felt like the end of the world to open up to Gar. But now, he couldn’t help but to wonder if it would have saved him in the long run.

Titans Tower was never the perfect place for him. It only ever felt livable because Gar had been there. They grew so close so quickly - at the time, Jason had tried to convince himself that it was just friendship. That it was the delusion of being stuck in close quarters. Gar was convenient - he was a good fuck, close by, and he was hot. He was someone Jason could get off with while Dick and Bruce had him locked up. And most of all, Gar was pleasant to be around. He didn’t look down on Jason like he was just some street rat, and he didn’t expect Jason to perform miracles just because he had taken on the mantle of Robin.

Gar treated him like an equal. At the time, that was the best that Jason could ask for.

Jason didn’t think there were any possible downsides to being close with Gar, and letting himself have some sexual relief in the process.

Until Deathstroke.

If he had any feelings for Gar, he had been suppressing them, and then - Gar argued with him about going out to hunt down Doctor Light. He felt betrayed. He felt like Gar didn’t understand him anyway, like Gar would always side with Bruce’s favorite - Good Old Dickie. The one thing he had been putting Gar on a pedestal for - treating him as an equal - was slashed away within seconds.

Back then, Jason couldn’t think rationally. He felt like he needed to capture Doctor Light and bring him in to get back in Bruce’s good graces, to show the Titans what he could do. He had no clue that Gar was scared for him; that he was acting out of fear, trying to protect Jason. (Something he would continue to do no matter what, apparently.)

At the time, Jason was insecure and stir crazy and he let it get to him.

And then, he was blindfolded, strapped to a chair, stabbed, and beaten, and all he could think of was how much he was going to disappoint Gar. How much he was going to hurt him. Bruce, Dick, and the other Titans were the farthest thing from his mind - all he could think about were the last time those soft lips had been on his, the flash of green hair. The utterly disappointed look Gar had given him when he had declined to call Dick for back-up before going into the train tunnels.

Gar thought Jason was stupid. But Gar was so damn soft-hearted. And Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how much he was going to hurt Gar with his idiotic antics. How much he was going to take from someone who didn’t deserve it.

As he was strapped to that chair, watching Deathstroke sharpen the sword, all he could think about was the look on Gar’s face - the tears he was going to cry when he was eventually told about Jason being sliced open. Especially because he knew that Gar would blame himself for not saving Jason, for not calling Dick sooner - and it was all Jason’s own stupid fault.

When he got back, somehow unscathed, he kept his distance from Gar. It hadn’t happened then, but the day would come when he would bring Gar a lot of undue pain - and if he started severing their ‘friendship’ now, then he could eventually soften the blow. At least, that was his line of thinking. He kept far away from Gar’s room when he needed that comfort more than ever, thinking that it would both do them better in the long run.

When a knock came on his door, he was surprised that it was Rose, and not Gar - and he was pissed off and annoyed more than anything. She was persistent and he was tired.

When she barged her way in, he found a particular part of his brain nagging at him - telling him that technically, he was still single. He shouldn’t get so attached to Gar anyway, because it would only hurt them both later on. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be attached - he wanted to know that he could run at any time. He needed to know that he wouldn’t get hurt. More importantly, that he wouldn’t hurt someone soft and caring like Gar.

He wanted to be able to say that everything going on between him and Gar was just sex.

So he let himself kiss Rose.

And he felt absolutely nothing.

When she told him: ‘Don’t be stupid and maybe it’ll happen again.’

He wanted to bark out: ‘It won’t.’

But he didn’t want to lay it all out. He didn’t want to tell her of all people that he was in love with his best friend and that’s why he wasn’t available. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud - and that’s why he settled for simply telling her to loudly fuck off as he stormed out of Titans Tower, determined to be alone. Especially when Gar did nothing more than stare him down with sad eyes, not moving a muscle, making no efforts to chase him.

He was meant to be alone. Or so he thought.

It was very clear that Gar had other plans.

Gar - who was currently snoring beside him with the presence of a slumbering lion. Perhaps Gar had skewed his idea of what it might actually be like to sleep beside a lion - wholly warm, downright hot, with heat radiating off his skin like a furnace, utterly soft and cuddly even though he was so muscled, someone who slept with his mouth agape and snored loudly - but in a pleasantly rhythmic way. He was a perfect, quaint, slumbering beast.

He made Jason feel safe.

It was not a luxury Jason had often in life. Maybe it was the thing that kept him coming back to Gar, again and again - that precious feeling of safety. It truly was better than any drug.

More and more presently by the minute, Jason was reminded of the mess - the unpleasant drying cum between his cheeks and on his lower stomach, leaking out of him and no longer pleasantly warm. It made him want a shower. He didn’t want to scare Gar by having him wake up to an empty bed, but he also didn’t want to wake him, steal sleep away from him when he clearly desperately needed it.

Jason nudged his way to the edge of the bed, trying to sneak away to the bathroom - but when he heard a harsh snort from Gar, he knew him well enough to know that this had signaled the end of his sleep; a harsh jolt awake.

“Where are you going?” Gar mumbled tiredly, not even having his eyes fully open yet before he frantically looked around for Jason.

“I was just gonna go shower, crawl outta my ass.” Jason hissed back, still feeling a bit raw and defensive.

He knew that Gar would sacrifice anything for him, but he still felt unworthy. Like a puffer fish growing big in defense, Jason was spitting out sourness in a last-ditch attempt to get Gar to change his mind - to shift his thinking last minute and suddenly see the truth: to find him unworthy.

Jason was almost shocked when Gar smiled.

Gar held back a clever quip about how he had made a home inside Jason’s ass and he wasn’t going to change that now.

“I’ll come with you.” He said instead. “Hot shower sounds nice right about now.”

“You should stay and sleep.” Jason told him, still teetering on the edge of the bed. “You’re clearly tired.”

“And you’re not?” Gar probed back.

There was a moment of tense silence. Jason didn’t offer up a reply.

“Come on, what’s this about?” Gar asked, fully opening his eyes now, propping himself up on one elbow to stare Jason down.

“After I get dressed, I have to go and talk to Dick.” Jason declared.

The words were heavy in the air.

The admission that he no longer felt the need to run. That he wanted to make an effort to stay, that he actually wanted to ask for his place back with the Titans.

Gar wanted to squeal with glee. Naturally, he held himself back. There would be a few more bumps in the road before Jason was officially home.

“Not by yourself.” Gar told him sharply.

Jason’s jaw clenched. He was afraid to admit that he needed the help. It was something he had been afraid of for a long time.

But he knew that without Gar’s help, without Gar vouching for him in Dick’s eyes, the conversation would likely only go one way.

And he needed to come home. He needed to stay.

Jason felt weak, and his voice was quiet when he finally mustered it up.

“Okay.”

It was a weak surrender. But things between him and Gar had never been that kind of battle. Not the kind of battle that he had with Bruce, or with Dick, or even with himself. There was never any true hatred there. Just the kind of fierce anger you feel when you love someone so much that you fear losing them.

So this surrender didn’t feel like a stain on his record - didn’t feel too much like giving up, after all. Not when the picture he ended up with had him and Gar in the same frame. It was something that made him feel more content and less defeated when Gar poorly concealed a smile in response - and then pulled him in for a kiss before getting up to grab towels for their shower.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask for a second part or a continuation. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Also, typically, I don't write character x character fics, so if you randomly found this in tags and you really like it - I apologize, because the rest of my masterlist is not like this and I won't be writing anything else like it anytime soon. I do write a lot of Titans fics and I have a lot more of them on my masterlist, so if you enjoy my style of smut or if you really enjoy my characterization of these two, then you should definitely check out the other things I have written - particularly No Place Like Home, which has a lot more JayGar scenes in it.

If you do really like my writing style and you want to see Titans x Reader fics (which is what I typically write), then you can follow me and sign up for my DC Titans Taglist by replying to this post asking to be put on the taglist or sending me an ask about it. Anyway, glad you enjoying the fic if you read this far, thanks for reading!!

#star squared

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hollyvorpahl · 2 years ago

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6, 23 and 29 please!

Also, I apparently can't DM you if we're not mutuals? But I'm happy to keep talking like this if that's what you're comfortable with. :D

6. What kind of readers would be fans of this wip?

I could see fans of Legends and Lattes liking The Dot Duology and Of Glass Pens and Enchanted Treats. They're very low stakes stories that focus on the day to day of a young woman and the community she meets.

A Vow from the Winter Lord would maybe attract fans of Sjm and Elise Kova. However, it's still on the less epic scale. Important stakes but not full scale war style. So maybe those who liked specifically the romantic side to the story but didn't care much for the brewing war.

23. How would you describe your writing style?

Um... a concentrated dose of my sense of humor? I don't see myself as inherently clever and I'm really not. So if you're reading something of mine that has a clever line or something funny, it took forever to come up with. The line also passed The Husband Test. If I have a line that I think is funny, I'll ask my husband if I can read him something. I read the scene in full with little context (he knows my stories so he understands what's going on) and if he laughs then it was actually funny and I keep it.

For example, in A Vow from the Winter Lord, there's this lovely moment between Marian’s father and her love interest Lord Athello. Athello asks why Gregor calls Marian "Spark"? He explains that when Marian was little, he was very standoffish with her because he didn't quite understand the whole father thing yet. His wife left Marian with him in the forge one afternoon and she watched him work and would squeal with delight anytime sparks would erupt from the piece he was working on. This started their bond as father and daughter and he began to understand. He's called her Spark since. Athello calls Marian his "Little Duck". So Gregor asks the same of Athello. The answer, it feels like I'm explaining the joke so I'm sorry it isn't funny here, is that when Marian and Athello met she had been cursed by a Hag to be a duck for mouthing off to her. So Athello just sorta looks over at him and says, "She was a duck when we met."

Or lines like "Once you have animated your skeleton (that is the one you have arranged on the table, not your own)..." in A Princess Guide to Love and Necromancy.

I see my narration as being a friend to the reader. A nicer, less foreboding version of Lemony Snicket. It gets to be clever and fun because I agonized over it for weeks.

29. Books or series or movies influenced your writing style the most?

How far back you want me to go? All the way? Okie dokie! Disney movies, particularly Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Hunchback and Hercules. Disney's Gargoyles and the Aladdin TV series too. Not Disney but still great is Anastasia. David Bowie in Labyrinth left a huge mark on my choices of love interest for my characters. The first few Barbie movies, Nutcracker, Rapunzel, Swan Lake and Princess and the Pauper. They really drove my love for feminine yet active protagonists. Most of which don't rely on combat training. Lord of the Rings, of course. Tamora Pierce was a big one. Ella Enchanted and Fairest were others. The Chronicles of Narnia, even though now I see how preachy they are. Neil Gaiman, particularly Coraline, Sandman and Stardust (book and movie, I actually like the movie more). The Merlin tv series and Tin Man had something to do with my writing too. Same with Once Upon a Time. Terry Practchet even though I haven't read a lot of his work. Lemony Snicket and unfortunately Harry Potter. Also... don't judge me but The Tinkerbell movies. I love the hell out of them and I'd be lying if I said they weren't an influence in A Vow from the Winter Lord. There are more but I'm drawing a blank now... I actually have shown my husband a lot of these things and he points out the things he recognizes as influences in my work.

I went into my settings and turned that thing off so you should be able to DM me now. I didn't realize it was on to begin with. I'm sorry.

#wip game #thanks for the ask!#ask holly vorpahl #i should be writing

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radiowallet · 3 years ago

Text

December 28th - Long Distance

Summary: Marcus gets pulled away on a long distance mission just after the holidays leaving you and Missy alone. He calls to check in late one night and you do your best to make the distance seem a little smaller.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Wife (female reader)

WC: 1.9K

Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, curing, Christmas talk

Thank you to @toomanystoriessolittletime for putting together this prompt list.

The phone rings at 9:47 pm. You’re already in bed, an outdated fashion magazine you had found stuffed beneath the bed while trying to organize some of the leftover holiday chaos open across your knees, dresses that have long since passed from the zeitgeist spread out before you. You don’t need to look at the caller I.D. to know who’s on the other end, a smile spreading across your face as you answer the call.

“Hey baby,” you say in a way of greeting, flipping the page over to find bathing suits staring back at you. That’s less than helpful. “How’s the last minute business going?”

On the other end of the phone Marcus lets out a low chuckle, his laugh slightly tinged with static. Your best guess is the cell reception isn’t great wherever he and Miracle-Guy are but you dare not ask. Even with encrypted cell phones and calling recon missions “business trips” he’s still slightly paranoid about your and Missy’s safety. You tend not to tease him about it, more content to just go along with his anxieties, within reason, if only to help him sleep more soundly in these moments when he’s called away from the two of you. This time it had been the day after Christmas, Missy playing with her new Barbie dolls, you standing in front of the fridge trying to talk yourself into one more night of leftovers before saying fuck it and tossing all of it (tupperware included) in the garbage. Marcus had been having a similar internal debate, glaring daggers at the pile of needles beneath the Christmas tree when his phone rang.

“It’s fine. This hotel we found is shit but at least I have my own room tonight. Slept in the car last night. I forgot how much Jimmy fucking snores.”

You laugh quietly, muffling the sound further into the back of your hand. For a minute the two of you sit in silence, basking in the sound of the other’s breathing. Nights apart are never easy, but to have one sprung on you this close to a holiday just adds salt to the wound, and part of you wants to curse the Heroics for taking your husband away again. The other part of you, the part that’s tired from a day of chasing a five year old around, the part that misses him fiercely, just wants to close her eyes and pretend that the breathing she hears is right next to her and not miles and miles away.

Eventually he clears his throat and breaks the silence. “How’s Missy?”

“She’s good. Already bored with that Barbie dream house. Was asking me why it didn’t have the elevator like the one on the television. Toy companies can bite my ass for dropping a brand new model of something the week before Christmas.”

It’s Marcus’s turn to laugh now, and you let the deep baritone timber wash over you, the sound of it like a balm on your soul. Fuck. You’d think it’s been 2 years and not 2 days. Still, the sound of his voice has you aching to touch him, hold him, feel him between your hands and it’s impossibly painful that you can’t do that right now.

As if sensing your frustration, he speaks again. “I’m sorry for taking off on such short notice, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you hum, tossing the magazine aside and wiggling deeper below the comforter, burying your face in Marcus’s pillow, inhaling the soothing scent of his body wash. “Just miss you is all. Wish you were here with me.”

“And where is here? The living room?”

“Mmm, no. I’m in bed. It’s lonely without you.” Your free hand falls to your thigh, tracing the bare skin just beneath the hem of one of Marc’s old t-shirts, the only thing you bothered throwing on before crawling into bed- the paint stained one with the hole by the neck that he refuses to throw away, like you would even ever consider the notion. It’s warm in the bedroom, almost too much beneath the duvet, the smell of cinnamon and pine still lingering in the air, and you can hardly hold back the breathy sigh that leaves your lips as you let your fingers move just an inch higher, Marcus’s name following the warm gasp of air from your tongue. You can hear him choke back a groan on the other end of the phone, and you know there’s a 50/50 shot of getting what you want. He’s quiet for a few seconds, breathing growing heavier as he absorbs the little hums you set free into his ear, a tension growing between you, rubber band pulled tight, threatening to snap against bare skin. Just as you’re about to let the thought leave you for now, your vibrator waiting dutifully in the drawer to your left, you hear a click followed by a groan in that same beautiful baritone that sends a wave of heat to the pit of your stomach.

“It’s lonely here too, baby. Never really got to enjoy that Christmas present did we.”

He’s referring to the lingerie you had splurged on, not usually your thing, but the little metal clasps strategically placed delicately across the thin fabric had caught your attention immediately, thinking about how your husband’s gifted hands could put that small detail to good use. You moan at the thought, partly in disappointment, partly in anticipation, fingernails digging into the meat of your thigh in hopes to alleviate some of the pressure building up impossibly fast. Before you can let yourself fall further, you feel yourself asking, annoyed that some of Marcus’s paranoia has eeked into your brain.

“Is the line safe?”

“I just added a second encryption layer,” Marcus promises -the click you heard earlier- his voice just as strangled as you feel, the rustling of sheets in the background. “What are you wearing, baby?”

“One of your shirts, the one you painted the kitchen in.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

At your answer he lets out a deep groan, and you can see him clearly now, head tilted back, neck straining, eyes slipping shut as he lets himself fully enjoy the moment.

“Fuck,” he whispers, a hush of a sound slipping out, followed by a quick command. “Leave it on.”

The order goes straight to your core, thighs clenching around your arm, picturing the steel in his eyes. “Yes sir,” you breathe out, meaning it as a joke but instead feeling yourself grow wet that one singly syllable. You let your fingers move upward, touching gently at the lips of your pussy, letting the pad of your finger drag through your folds, already wet with arousal.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“I am,” you reply, the tip of your finger circling your clit, jolts of pleasure sparking in your core just from that simple touch. Marcus hums through the phone, his breath like liquid fire in your ears, and when he speaks again, you swear you almost come from his words alone.

“Good girl.”

You moan at the praise, turning your head to muffle the sound in Marcus’s pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him as you rub with more certainty at your clit, the bundle of nerves hard and swollen beneath your finger tip. Through the phone you can hear your husband groan, the distinct sound of skin on skin, and another moan slips out of you and into the downy soft pillow beneath your lips as you picture him fisting his cock, gripping tight at the bottom and slipping up to the tip to collect precum before sliding back down.

“Wish I could hear you, baby. Feel you. Fuuuck, you always feel so good.”

“No, you…you feel good, baby…miss you,” you sigh, shifting your hand to rub at your clit with your thumb, slipping one finger inside your entrance. It’s not enough, nothing is enough without him here and you whine at the loss of something you can’t have, desperately wishing he was here to slip his own thick finger in alongside your own. “Need you, Marcus,” you sob, pushing your finger as deep inside the tight walls of your cunt as you can.

“I know, mi amor. I know. Fuck, wish I had your hands or your mouth or your tight pussy. Fuck you so good right now if I could. Slip into that pussy and kiss you. I just want to kiss you. Kiss you all over. You’re so beautiful. Beautiful, pretty girl. I love you so fucking much.”

It’s practically nonsense, garbled word salad mixing in with the sound of him fisting his cock, a slick thrust of skin on skin, matching perfectly with the wet squelch of your pussy. The edges of his voice are pulled tight, straining with unseen exertion that you can only picture through the phone. Maybe you imagine it, or wish the command into existence, but you swear you hear his deep voice softly commanding you to add a second finger. Your breath comes out high and pitched, as you press your fingers as deep inside your cunt as they can reach, searching for that one single spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. All the while, Marcus continues to ramble, one sentence running into the next into the next as you fuck yourself onto your fingers.

“Want to come home. Come home and lay in our bed with you. Fuck you in our bed. Feel you wrapped around my cock. Fuck, I want that. Do you want that?”

You nod, then remember that those little things he’s begging for aren’t true, and he can’t see you. The miles between you have never felt greater and you want to scream out, the rage at the long distance slamming head first into your arousal.

“Y-yes, Marc. I want that. You. I want you.”

After that it’s all heavy panting and breathy sighs traded back and forth, the sounds of your hands working yourselves closer and closer to the edge coming to the foreground of sound, wet and slick and sopping sounds as you pump in and out of your entrance, thumb brushing awkwardly at your clit, your other hand wrapped around your cell with an iron grip. It’s rushed and desperate and you know it will be over sooner rather than later, and you try not to sob at the thought. You’re close, pathetically so and you manage to slip a third finger in, sacrificing depth for stretch.

“Close. You’re close, baby. I can tell- you’re, y-your breathing is…shit, I love listening to you breathe. Please come for me, baby. Come all over your pretty fingers. I…I…”

He never gets to finish that final thought, a moan ripping from between your lips, cutting his words off at the knee. You stroke harder at your clit, your thumb pushing hard at the bundle of nerves and suddenly your coming, hips canting up into the open air above the bed. Marcus is practically sobbing through the receiver of the phone and you can see it clearly in your mind’s eyes, thick ropes of cum hitting his stomach as his strokes go from fast to slow, working himself through his own release as your body comes back down to earth.

You breathe in slowly, together, matching the in and out of oxygen to one another, your limbs and eyes filling up with lead. It’s seconds or maybe hours, but finally, finally, your tongue doesn’t feel like it’s stuck to the roof of your mouth and you find some words to offer up to your husband.

“Come home soon, Moreno.”

He huffs, a laugh or a groan or something else, answering to you in a soft, sated promise to do just that. “As soon as I can, Moreno. As soon as I can.”

Main Masterlist

31 Days for Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Tag List: @nolanell @honestly-shite @leslie-lyman @gingersnappe-9 @mandocrasis @castleamc @dobbyjen @sergeantbannerbarnes @lowlights @cowboy-turtle @mindidjarin @alm0501 @tintinn16 @hnt-escape @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @magpie-to-the-morning @jazzelsaur @mylovelycomandante

#31 days for Marcus Moreno #StephsXmasWritingChallenge2021 #Marcus Moreno #marcus moreno fic #Marcus Moreno x fem!reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x female reader #Marcus Moreno x f!reader #Marcus Moreno x wife #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #wcbh #wcbh fic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters

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gaybarbiegirl · 4 years ago

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My Top 5 Gay Barbie ships

As an avid Barbie fan and a lesbian, I feel like it was only a matter of time until I made this. I think we can all agree that the Barbie movies blessed us with some of the best lesbian relationships gal pals of our childhoods, and I guess this is just my way of paying homage to my favorites. A little disclaimer, this is all just my opinion, so I'm sorry if your favorite ship isn't here.

5. Kristyn and Hailey - Barbie and the Pink Shoes

Starting out with a painfully underrated ship from a painfully underrated movie, we've got Kristyn and Hailey. In my opinion, Barbie and the Pink Shoes is the funniest Barbie movie, and these two are a big part of the reason why. They bounce off of each other really well, they have a great and believable daydreamer/down to earth dynamic, and their relationship is really sweet. I mean, it's hard to watch two people navigating an unknwon world together with no one to count on but each other and not end up shipping them. Plus, the scene where Hailey gets captured by the snow queen and Kristyn runs crying through the frozen road always breaks my heart.

4. Mariposa and Catania - Barbie Mariposa and the fairy princess

I'm gonna be honest, the way the pairings went in the Mariposa franchise actually makes me kinda bitter. And that's because they had these two characters who I think are perfect for each other, but they totally disregard their relationship for the sake of pairing Mariposa with Prince Carlos (who is honestly just a male version of her).

I mean, seriously - Mariposa and Catania have this Romeo and Juliet type of story, being from rival fairy kingdoms and all, and it would definetely have ended in romance if this was a het ship. Catania is the only one who's kind to Mariposa from the start, she bothers to learn about her culture and to make her feel welcome in her kingdom, and she trusts her blindly even when everyone around her tells her she shouldn't. In return, Mariposa listens to Catania about her struggles, and does everything in her power to help her overcome them. They have a lot in common and a lot to teach each other, their relationship development feels very natural, and their bond is what saves the day in the end. But nooo, Barbie has to end up with the prince. Smh.

3. Barbie and Sal-Lee - Barbie Starlight Adventure

These two probably have the most down to earth relationship in this list, ironically. They have no big dramatic bonding moment, no speech about believing in each other, and their love isn't what saves the universe. It's all very simple and low key, and that's kind of what I like about it.

I love how nervous Barbie is to meet Sal-Lee in the beggining, how it takes a little while for them to get used to each other, and how even in the end there's still a bit of healthy competition between them. You can tell both of them weren't what the other one was expecting, but once they get to know each other, they realize they're something even better, and I think that's really great. I also love how Sal-Lee gets all protective of Barbie, always looking out for her in the end. Overall, their relationship is just very wholesome and comforting. 10/10.

2. Merliah and Kylie - Barbie in a Mermaid Tale 2

Rivals to lovers, anyone? Truly one of the best relationship tropes out there, and it was executed beautifully in this movie.

Merliah's and Kylie's flirty rivalry in the beggining is everything, and I like how it's not one sided. Like, Merliah isn't the nice "let's all be friends" girl who's being cornered by mean girl Kylie, they're both mutually competitive, which is pretty unique for a Barbie movie. And, of course, as their relationship develops, all of their scenes are just the cutest and the gayest.

Kylie saying "since when does the queen of the waves give up?" when she's pulling Merliah out of that whirpool? Amazing.

The two of them holding hands while swimming together? Beautiful.

Merliah swooning over everything Kylie says, from her plans to her bad jokes? Lovely.

And the whole ending sequence to that movie lives in my head rent free. Merliah is all upset over being a mermaid forever because, in her own words, this means she can't surf with Kylie anymore. Then she turns human again and gets to compete with her one more time, but with love instead of animosity. And finally, the two of them thank each other for everything they got to learn together and agree to share the 1st place trophy. Incredible. Lesbian excellency. Love it with my whole heart.

1. Liana and Alexa - Barbie and the Diamond Castle

Surprising no one, Alexa and Liana get the 1st place, and for a good reason. To this day, they're the biggest wlw icons from any Barbie movie ever. Everyone has seen the posts talking about how the colours of their dresses are the colours of the lesbian flag and the bi flag, or about how they're the og cottagecore lesbians, or about how there's a scene in the movie where the two of them literally float away from their "love interests" on a rainbow, and they're all 100% right.

But while the sheer amount of gayness these two have is great, I still think this isn't the best part of their relationship. The best part, I think, is just how devoted they are to each other.

Like, we know they regularly write songs about how happy they are together, and both of them consider their relationship to be the best part of their lives. They take care of each other in a way that is so casual but still so meaningful, and you can tell it comes from a place of real love. When they get the chance to make a wish, they don't even have to think before wishing to be together forever. And throughout the movie, we see them risk their lives and rethink their values for the sake of keeping the other one happy and safe.

They're not just my favorite barbie ship, they're one of my favorite ships of all time, and they totally deserve all of the praise they get.

#barbie #barbie movies #gay #lesbian #barbie mariposa #barbie mariposa and the fairy princess #barbie star light adventure #barbie mermaid tale #barbie diamond castle #barbie pink shoes #kristyn x hailey #mariposa x catania #barbie x sal-lee #merliah x kylie #liana x alexa

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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

Text

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked.

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

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