#why is it so unbelievable that dick might actually be a good brother

[bluegarners]

someone sent me a post that is surprisingly popular that characterizes dick as an unreliable brother but Jason as the kind of brother that’ll let you stay at his place whenever and cook you meals… so many people in the tags too parroting false canon and weird head canons back and forth… i don’t get it

[zalrb]

do you think delena could've made more sense if they played up Elena's cognitive dissonance when it came to Damon like he knew her since she was wha 16/17? and actively groomed her, and since she was a high schooler who was being groomed she might not have understood the true implications of daroline, instead she just saw it as "wow he was a dick to her" bc caroline was somewhat okay w him, and stefan despite disapproving always kept him around so he couldn't have been THAT bad so she basically had a fucked up perspective regarding abusive relationships

ummm, for me it was more like a route they could've gone is if they made elena like the DErs who come into my inbox:

And I would be completely OK with a seventeen year old Elena thinking that dangerous, all-consuming love is exciting without actually experiencing it because teens do that, teens see something or hear something and it sounds good in theory and then it happens to them and they’re like nope, I lied, I don’t want this,

...

I have also said that I could see Elena being attracted to the idea of Damon, the way the Delena fandom is attracted to and romanticizes the idea of Damon where, like, a part of her likes the fact that he’d let everyone die to save her, is flattered by the fact that when she says something to hurt him, he spirals out of control, misconstrues his toxic behaviour as intense love and finds herself curious about him because he comes on strong all the time only for them to get together and realize how unbelievably awful it is to be in that relationship

...

I remember talking to DErs who thought Stefan was so conceited and arrogant because a) he didn’t think Damon was a real threat to his relationship to Elena b) he says “you have me” when Elena says she’s has no one in 3x20 whereas Damon was so great because he was consistently insecure about his relationship to Elena since he knew she was so much better than him. And I was like, OK, barring all of the homicidal and predatory shit that Damon has done, I can see why in theory you think it’s great that this man is so worried about losing his girlfriend and is essentially like “ugh I’m a mere mortal dating a GODDESS” except that’s not how that really plays out. Damon being consistently insecure about his relationship with Elena means that she has to constantly stroke his ego and assure him. Damon being so insecure about his relationship with Elena means that when Elena seemingly confirms his insecurities, the first thing he does is kill her friend and kidnap her brother to be tortured when he had already killed her brother previously because she didn’t stroke his ego one night and he felt bad.

and to add to that, if Elena was really like, no no i can change him, i can make him better, combined with Elena rationalizing that Damon was just feeding on Caroline and not understanding or appreciating the full extent of what happened and then once she gets into the relationship realizing her own naivete.

[frosty-oak]

Sevenish English students and fiveish jugs of Pim’s

First act

I was in a Bristol Wetherspoon’s the other night (the one by Will’s if you’re a student), out for a drink to celebrate finishing my first essay. Three of five people had cancelled on me but I was determined to make friends and be sociable. While waiting at the bar I was telling the one person who had arrived that she had a very nice jacket, and the red converses (matching mine) were a nice touch. I worried that it seemed like I was flirting, so I made an offhand, not-very-subtle comment about my girlfriend, mostly because women do love my awkward charm and confused dress sense, but especially because of my strong feminist values (and social anxiety.) Once I finally had my pint of (really very cheap and slightly crap) Thatchers, we managed to find the only other person who had actually shown up; luckily with a host of friends. I awkwardly sat at the edge, introduced myself to five or so people, forgot all of their names and tried not to stare at the huge amount of empty glasses and pitchers on the table.

Main course

I began to stereotype slash categorise everyone at the table, deciding that Mary (not her real name) definitely listened to Lana Del Ray, and Harvey (not a real name either!) was a film buff who stumbled into the interesting side of socially clumsy. He also had a tendency to ask me about a selection of interesting films and books in rapid succession which went a little like this:

“Theo (that one is a real name), have you ever seen The Piano Teacher?”

“No sorry, why is it good?”

“Its alright. Whiplash?”

“Oh yeah that one was really good.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

And then the conversation would move elsewhere, I still haven’t figured out if there was a connection or he was just understanding/categorising me in his own way. Mary was then told off for vaping inside, it turns out that Spoons is surprisingly strict on the rules, as any seventeen year old trying to stay past nine PM will discover.

Chapter three

Things then took an interesting turn somewhere between ordering my second pint and it still not bloody arriving nine minutes later. Timothy (that ones definitely not her name, I’m bad at aliases) was telling us about her ‘type’ for some reason or other, and this was when my long standing theory  that an amazing amount of people have terrible taste in men was proved right. Timothy (I will get a better name eventually) described her type as “tall” going fine so far “brown hair” still fine “and emotionally unavailable” and oh dear we’ve fucked it. Someone else then said that they had a thing for men who were “mostly not into me” which is funny but also just bad, but then I was asked and got lots of brownie points by saying “my girlfriend” and showing a picture of her looking as gorgeous as ever (I normally get her to edit these so hi darling!) Despite what you might guess though, Timothy’s love-life is going absolutely fine! I’m kidding she committed flatcest immediately and then he shagged his ex the same day, and also he’s just a dick in general.

The fourth bit.

It was about when my pint finally did arrive and Mary had been warned for the last time, again, not to vape indoors that two new people arrived who looked a tiny bit like GTA characters. There was a bloke called Jacob or something (that actually might be his name I’m quite bad with names) and he had thick rimmed glasses and was unbelievably Bristol with his third Gallagher brother look and most importantly he started telling me about how he was doing a DJ set at a local club that was only for members. Which actually sounded like a lovely time but also unbelievably Bristol. He arrived with his friend who was the other side of the Bristol coin, with a collection of necklaces and bracelets along with bleached eyebrows. I didn’t actually manage to chat to her much but I did hear the stream of indie-post-pre-punk-queer-grunge-pop-indie bands that were being discussed and sounded quite good.

Around this time someone called smoke break and everyone disappeared and I quickly realised I was being left with a selection of coats and bags as I sat awkwardly (and slightly pissed as I had been to the bar to get a pint repeatedly) and waited for everyone to arrive so I could make my exit. Everyone has had that moment, generally in a bathroom but when you are quite drunk and are suddenly left with your thoughts and time sloooows doooowwwwwnn. Suddenly you are desperately trying to find entertainment in anything nearby, waiting for Instagram to load because somehow this corner of Spoons is a faraday cage. Just after the nearest ice age had came and went Mary reappeared and I made to leave but she convinced me to stay just a little longer until everyone else arrived.

The Final Act

In the final act of the night, we sat and discussed the tense, difficult and upsetting situation with her ex, which despite the many pints between us was actually a very interesting conversation. Unfortunately we were cut short by the bouncer arriving directly as Mary had raised her vape to her lips and he slowly marched over. Fair cop, and he was very lovely about it but we did have to go. I hovered outside and made a bit of chat as people smoked and finally said my goodbyes and headed for home. Uphill of course, its Bristol.

[scarlett-vixen]

good morning kat!! i would love to read how u view and write the brothers / dateables <33

Ahhhhhh thank you! I was probably going to do it anyway but I’m so glad you sent this <3 OKAY! So some of these are probably similar to how others see/write them but I feel like I have a slightly different feel for a few of them. I really just wanted to do this so my followers could kind of get an idea for my writing before they get whiplash or something aksjaj ALSO I’m only to lesson 35 so if you read some of this and go “kat they literally covered that in the game” I’m sorry but I’m stuck way behind.

LUCIFER - The Overworked DILF

So I think we can all agree that this man is severely overworked and is in desperate need of some dick/pussy and probably worries about things he shouldn’t. I hate the idea that Lucifer doesn’t like/doesn’t care about his brothers!! “He’s always rude to them” “He never lets them have fun” yes I know but you have to remember he’s Avatar of Pride. I feel like Luci isn’t an ass just to be one, it’s his Sin that makes him come across that way! He’s the prideful oldest brother, in real world conditions he would be the oldest sibling who graduated Valedictorian and went off to an Ivy League school and your parents constantly brag about. These kids normally are the most stressed people alive, they do it because they feel like it’s expected of them not because they think they’re better than everyone else. Lucifer acts like a jerk sometimes because his Sin forces him to basically. I also think once Luci becomes comfortable with you, that tends to fade away, he’s less strict on his brothers, he’s a little more open about his feelings, he might even start complimenting them more often. Lucifer loves his brothers and I feel like he would sacrifice a lot to make them (and you) happy.

💖 MAMMON - The Loverboy 💖

I could write a ten page essay on Mammon…actually I could probably do one for half the brothers. ANYWAY My biggest peeve is how the game (and some fans) make him just “the stupid greedy brother” you can not convince me Mammon would ever steal from MC, you just can’t. “But he likes to sell things for money” yes, but you know greed doesn’t solely refer to money? I see Mammon as the touch starved demon who falls head over heels for you, he would do anything for you, you ask and it’s done, no hesitation. This boy is so smitten with you it’s unbelievable, he truly is a simp, look the word up in the dictionary and it’s just his name next to it. Why?? Because after he develops feelings for you he becomes greedy for your love and attention, he doesn’t care about your money or possessions he just wants your affection. If you don’t love him? It hurts but it’s okay he just wants a friend who treats him nicely. WHILE ON THAT TOPIC I DO NOT BELIEVE THE BROTHERS ARE THAT MEAN/CRUEL TOWARDS HIM. I think they tease him but I also believe they respect him. I feel like Mammon is actually very smart, he just doesn’t apply himself at RAD because he has better things to do like stare at you all day. I write Mammon as a very loyal friend/lover. I also write him as clingy/needy because he is, he wants to be with you because you show him so much kindness he can’t get enough.

LEVIATHAN - The Shy Boy

*gently slaps his shoulder* This bad boy can fit so much anxiety in him! I relate very hard to Levi and his socially awkward ass so I understand his tendency to lock himself away. I think once he warms up to you and you guys become friends he’s more willing to leave his room and even the house. I think you would somewhat become a security blanket for him, in the sense that he’s only comfortable going to a big social outing if you also go, he doesn’t have to be directly next to you but he at least needs you in his line of sight to feel better. I think Levi has of course had a few friends here and there, be it online only or maybe another socially awkward demon at RAD, but I think you would be his first true friend. He would open up to you about literally everything, he would text you about every new anime releasing, he would ask you to come game with him/watch a new show constantly. I guess I agree with a lot of his in game personality but I also think he becomes attached to you, I think you help him come out of his shell without him even realizing it, you give him confidence to just be himself and not be as envious of others.

SATAN - The Hopeless Romantic

As someone who struggled with their own anger issues when they were younger, I have many strong feelings about Satan and I do not vibe with the “cold and closed off angry brother” idea. I see him as someone who works hard to keep his anger in check because he doesn’t want to harm/push away the ones he loves. I think he still has those moments that he does lose control but they’re few and far between, I think you would be a major source of comfort for him. He’s quick to spot the similarities between the two of you and wants to form a close bond but also fears hurting you, if you take the first step to get to know him more then he’s all in. He wants to learn more about the human world and is willing to teach you whatever you would like about the Devildom, together you can learn about the Celestial Realm and what it holds. This boy is 100% a hopeless romantic though, when he catches feelings for you he is immediately trying to sweep you off your feet in every aspect BUT he wants everything to be perfect, straight out of a romance novel perfect. Also I’m very biased, I also love and adore animals so I fully support cat lover Satan however I think that Satan loves all animals, cats are just his favorite.

ASMODEUS - The Hypeman

I see Asmo as so much more than “the gay bestie who likes to gossip” like I’ve seen a few fans strip him down to. While I 100% think Asmo is always down to gossip with you I also picture Asmo as the ultimate therapist friend/hypeman. He’ll listen to your problems and give you advice, if you have a crush on one of his brothers he is immediately trying to set you up. He knows how to play the game (because he invented it basically) so he gives you tips on how to make them fall for you. I also see people just leave him as “the sex crazed brother” and yes, I think Asmo would give you some of the most mind blowing sex but again, I see more than that. Most people see Lust and immediately associate it with sex, lust is just an intense desire for something but not specifically sex. I see Asmo as someone who, after years of sexual lust, meets you and starts to lust after a sincere friendship/bond. He’s full of his own insecurities and wants someone he can be open with and share those feelings, I think Asmo would actually be willing to tell you about his insecurities once the two of you formed a stronger bond. I also see Asmo as a total drama queen, the first to know any “secret” and the first to run to you with info on his brothers.

BEELZEBUB- The Gentle Giant

The fact that the game made his personality “food” makes me so mad. Beel is 10000% friend shaped and just wants the best for his family. I see him as a big bear honestly, he’s very sweet and innocent but if you piss him off he will destroy you. I don’t think he would be afraid to body check a bitch into a wall for insulting one of his brothers, I see him as extremely protective over them all, not just his twin. This is my own personal opinion but I think Beel would give the best hugs :( <3 I also think he would be an amazing listener. Since he’s up late at night, due to hunger or insomnia, you can always talk to him when you’re having trouble sleeping. If you ever need to just vent to someone but aren’t really looking for advice, Beel is the one, he listens and he has his own thoughts on the matter but he knows you really just need to talk it out. Just…big boy…big sweet boy💖

BELPHEGOR - The Brat

OOOOOHHHH LET ME TELL YOU! So, in regards to lesson 16 if you want my thoughts on that hot ass mess go read Vicious (not a shameless plug just gives you a better idea on how I feel about that situation). With that being said (and if you’ve read the fic) I think Belphie would have a loooot of guilt for what he did. I think he would feel like shit once he realized how much you mean to his brothers, I think he would feel completely ashamed and would do whatever it took to make it up to you.. He wants to be close to you, he wants to be friends, he wants to have your attention as much as his brothers do. I think the fact that you took the time to set him free would hit him hard, after spending so much time alone he wants to be involved in things but has major guilt for what he did. I think if you ignored him for a while and forced him to see how much his brothers love and adore you, how they would do anything to make you happy, he would cave and beg for forgiveness(in private of course). If you eventually let him get close to you he’s going to act out when he doesn’t get his way and will be the ultimate brat, he’ll pout when you spend too much time with one of the others, he’ll lay in your lap anytime he sees you sitting on the couch, he’ll hold onto the back of your shirt when you guys go out in a group so he can stay close to you. I think he’s 100% a brat but also has tremendous guilt for what he did.

SOLOMON - The Smartass

Okay so you know the classic “little boys will pull the pigtails of the girl they have a crush on” that’s Solomon. Regardless of your gender he’s going to pick on you and he’s going to tease you. The man has been alive for thousands of years, he has met so many other humans but you’re different, he wants to get to know you more. I think Solomon might be a little out of touch with current human culture/ways of life but if you try to introduce him to it he completely adapts to it. I think he would be so thrilled to have another human around, the two of you would become best buds and just say the most random shit and bust out laughing. Introduce him to memes and he immediately starts making his own about the Devildom and they’re hilarious, show him old Vines (exposing my age lmao) and the man is wheezing. I think he’s also a sarcastic little shit, he likes to push buttons and see if you push back, I think he gently bullies his friends. Being an ancient wizard can be lonely so I think you restore a little bit of his humanity and give him a little piece of his childish behavior back.

SIMEON - The Sweetheart

Sweet baby angel help 🥺 I see Simeon as very respectful and innocent BUT he also wants to join the fun. I think if you and Solomon were goofing around he would ask to join, he wants to understand the jokes, he wants to play the dumb card games, he wants to be more involved!! I think Simeon would also be a great listener and would also try to give the best advice. I DO NOT THINK HE WOULD TRY TO FORCE RELIGION DOWN YOUR THROAT I one time saw someone say that Simeon would try to make you “see the light of God” or whatever and just…no, I don’t feel that. I think Simeon would be very respectful of your choices in all aspects of life, just because he’s an angel doesn’t mean he can’t be friends with people who don’t follow his God. To each their own obviously but that’s not how I’ll write him, I don’t think he would bring up religion at all unless you specifically asked him.

LUKE - The #1 Little Bro

LUUUUUUKKKEE Best little angel!!!!! I see Luke as that younger sibling who is SO impressed and in awe of everything you do! He thinks you make everything look easy, he tries to mimic the way you do things, he tells all his friends about you! I think, while at first he may be upset about it, Luke would fully support you if you dated one of the brothers. He would love for you to date Simeon but as long as you’re happy that’s all that matters! He would go to you for advice on how to do things and if you tell him you’re also bad at the thing he’s just like “oh well then it must be impossible because you can do ANYTHING, so I don’t care about it” he just thinks you’re so cool and amazing even if you don’t think that about yourself. <3

✨Bonus✨

I don’t write for these two quite yet because I’m still getting a feel for them but thought I would include them💖

Diavolo- The Golden Retriever

Before I get slaughtered let me explain: Everything I’ve seen so far in game of Diavolo is a guy who has no real cares and wants to hangout with his friends doing literally anything, he does not care as long as he is involved. Obviously I know he has more going on being a prince and all but like I said I’m not that far in game. My current interpretation of him is: super happy Prince who desperately wants to be a normal guy for just one day and see what it’s like to not have the entire Realm in your shoulders.

Barbatos - The Mystery

Barbatos (I say this lovingly) you bitch… LET ME LOVE AND UNDERSTAND YOU I hate that we get such little screen time with him because ??? He seems to have some dope powers, also he basically raised Dia so this man has seen some shit and I wanna hear stories about what he has experienced!!!! All I know of him so far is: Loyal Butler and Afraid of Rats. I want moooooreeee I want to write for him so baaaddd.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Obey Me characters forgetting a mating anniversary

Anon: reactions to their alpha missing an anniversary? or you could switch it and do reactions to realizing they forgot an anniversary. either or !

Anon part 2: hi! i’m the anon from the anniversary request. i was thinking maybe the obey me! fandom? whichever characters you like. my exams are coming to an end so i’m looking forward to spending hours on that app during the summer 😤😤 i hope you’re doing well ! 💕

(Hey hey!! I’m going to do their reactions to forgetting a mating anniversary, because they’ve been alive a long time, I imagine it would happen at least one hehe. Let’s see~)

Warnings: Mention of sex in Asmo’s section

Lucifer – He denies it at first. He can’t have forgotten, he would never forget something so important, you must have the date wrong. His response is very likely to make his alpha either more angry or more upset, and he inadvertently blows the whole thing out of proportion because he struggles to admit that he’s wrong. But when he realises that he is wrong? That he was so caught up in paperwork for Diavolo he did forget? It’s a hard pill to swallow. He would probably buy his alpha some expensive flowers as an apology of sorts, but unless he’s been in a relationship with his alpha for several hundred years, I don’t see him directly apologising. He does feel guilty, but he really finds it hard to articulate. The upside is that it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll ever do it again. He’s checking four times every week at least now that he hasn’t missed any important dates by mistake.

“Our anniversary is next week, my beloved, you must have confused the dates.”

Mammon – Mammon metaphorically shits himself when he realises he forgot an anniversary. His scent is pure, unadulterated panic. His first instinct is to plan an anniversary event that moment. Hell’s Kitchen must still be open right? He tries to pull his alpha with him right that second. If that doesn’t work, he starts to panic that he’s ruined the most important thing in his life. This is when the begging starts. He says sorry about a hundred times, will get on his knees, offer whatever you want as long as you forgive him. Mammon is actually a very compassionate person who doesn’t like upsetting his loved ones, so it’s very hard to stay mad at him. Unfortunately, he’s not great at keeping track of dates, so it might happen again. The best thing to do is organise something together and give him a few reminders when that date’s coming up.

“Oh shit! Er, Hell’s Kitchen is still open right?? I’ll buy you whatever you want, we’ll order one of everything, does that work?”

Leviathan – He almost certainly forgets because of some game event or new releases. And to make everything worse, at first he acts like the game and event was more important than the anniversary and he thinks it’s a legitimate excuse that you can’t argue with. He realises pretty quickly after the event finishes that he’s completely alone because you’re mad at him. He turns to tell you everything about the game but you don’t want to listen to him?? He sulks in his room for a while. What pushes him to apologise is when he sees you hanging out with other people instead of him. He growls away the other person, pulling you into his room and sobbing angrily against you, asking why you love other people more than him. He apologises then, desperate to have his best friend and lover back with him. He might do it again, but he learns pretty quickly to just communicate when he wants to partake in a special gaming event and then he never forgets again.

“W-Why don’t you love m-me, like you l-love him?! I’m sorry, p-please don’t leave!”

Satan – He feels guilty, but he handles it well. He is phenomenal at apology dates. He organises the perfect romantic date, taking into consideration his alpha’s likes and integrating them. If you have a favourite romantic novel, you know he’s going to recreate a date scene with you. If you have a favourite restaurant, he’s booked the best table and ordered a bouquet of your favourite flowers for the centrepiece. It’s very hard to stay mad at Satan, especially because it’s very out of character for him to forget a date so important.

“If you want any more drinks, just let me know. I want you to enjoy this evening as much as possible.”

Asmodeus – He also deals with it fairly well, even if he can’t believe that he forgot! He’s honest and upfront about forgetting and expresses regret. He will definitely try to seduce you as an apology though, offering to let you do whatever you want to him. If that doesn’t work, next step is a joint pampering session! He’s pretty good at conveying a genuine apology without making anything too dramatic. I think it’s unlikely that he would do it again, because he loves, loves, loves anniversaries!!! He genuinely can’t believe that he forgot because he normally plans everything months in advance.

“Oh! I can’t believe that I… Oh dear, here come to my room and let me make it up to you…”

Beelzebub – He’s heartbroken that he forgot! He is so upset. He apologises immediately, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, and he asks you to tell him what he needs to do to make it up to you. He doesn’t offer up solutions, he wants his alpha to pick something, so he knows they’ll enjoy it. The only thing he definitely does immediately, is offer whatever food he’s been saving for them to share with him while they discuss. He will likely ask for advice from some of his brothers, probably Belphie (who doesn’t help) and Asmo (who’s slightly more helpful). He may do it again, but he always tries his hardest to make your anniversaries as special as he can.

“Here, you can have my ice cream… I’m really sorry… What can I do?”

Belphegor – He doesn’t think it’s a big deal that he forgot, because you can both just rearrange it, right? I think it’s pretty unlikely that his alpha takes kindly to that opinion. It takes Belphie a little while to realise that a) he’s in the wrong and b) he needs to apologise. He’s not good at planning, but when he genuinely puts his mind to it, he’s actually pretty good at giving gifts. He buys something you’ve been wanting for a while, he might even put a sticky bow on top if you’re upset enough. He gives you the gift while mumbling apologies. The second you forgive him, he drags you to take a nap with him because he hasn’t been sleeping well since you’ve been mad at him. He’s pretty likely to do it again at least a few times, but he learns not to be such a dick about it eventually.

“Oh, I guess I must have forgot… We can just go tomorrow; I want to take a nap.”

Diavolo – He is gutted that he forgot. He organises the most extravagant apology dinner possible (which is pretty extravagant, because he’s a king, very dramatic, and very in love all at once). He gives a dramatic speech about how there’s no excuse, how he never wants you to think he doesn’t value your relationship etc. At this point, I imagine most people would be begging him to chill out and promising that they already forgave him. Either way, I don’t think it would ever happen again, especially because he tells all of his staff to remember your anniversary and always remind him the week before. He isn’t going to let this happen again.

“My love, I will never forgive myself for hurting you in this way. I will never stop trying to make it up to you, even if it takes me a millennium.”

Barbatos – This would never happen. He is amazing at keeping organisational data in his brain, especially data that means so much to him. Also, he can see the future, so, even if by some miracle he did forget, he would see your future reaction and know in advance that he forgot. Barbatos isn’t perfect, but he’s not one to forget important dates.

Simeon – Simeon is another one who is heartbroken that he’s treated his most beloved one this way. He feels awful. He does tear up a little bit if the relationship is old enough. Simeon makes a huge effort to create some adorable picnic date, cooking baskets and baskets of food and picking the most beautiful park. He brings flowers and bunting and a little cake that he ices with an apology in an unbelievably cute handwriting style. It’s very, very hard not to forgive him when he’s so apologetic and good at making you smile. He goes out of his way to make sure he never upsets his alpha in this way again. 

“My beloved, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I will seek to make it up to you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Solomon – He doesn’t care that much about anniversaries but he’s not dumb enough (like some other people on this list *cough*) to think that saying that to your face is a good idea. He definitely tries to play it off as though he had something planned all along and that making you think he forgot was part of the plan. He then scrambles to plan things last minute, and he’s quite good at covering up his mistake. If his alpha doesn’t believe him, he makes up for his mistake with expensive and rare gifts. He will find something special for his alpha. A first edition copy of your favourite book or limited edition merchandising of your favourite media, something like that. He knows the excitement will help dull any negative emotions you have towards him. I could definitely see him doing it multiple times, but if his alpha ever expressed genuine hurt long-term about that particular habit, he would readjust his priorities. He’s not a complete asshole after all, he just sometimes has a hard time pulling his head out of said asshole.

“Here, it took me three days to track down someone who had a copy, but I finally found a first edition for you. I hope you will accept this as a token of my apology, my dearest.”

[guqin-and-flute]

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why? 

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise. 

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge. 

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly]  Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan:  Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside. 

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human. 

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people. 

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating... 

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright. 

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother? 

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?! 

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly]  We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy. 

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks��.[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

[biisexualemma]

crazy. oscar diaz

word count: 1847

warnings: bit of swearing but mainly angsty/fluff

requested: ‘Hey boo could I ask for an imagine with spooky where him and reader fight like crazy with each other like they're friends but they get on each other's nerves a lot and one/both of them realised they actually like the other? And they confess? Idk yhis is dumb I guess but I like the idea of them annoying each other and arguing like crazy before realising they like each other more than they'd like to admit🥺 thank you so much if you go with this!! 💛💛’

plot: best friends / haters / lovers?

masterlist

"suck my dick!"

"gladly!" he shouted back.

your frown deepened when he said this. you groaned with frustration. he always had better comebacks than you did, it drove you crazy in instances like this (which were pretty frequent).

you turned around to leave before the conversation could escalate any further. "you know, you should really watch your mouth, mami," he shouted before you could get to the door, and you couldn't leave it alone.

spinning around, you marched back over to him with a pointed finger. "don't tell me what to do, papi," you poked at his chest as you mimicked his little nickname.

oscars eyes widened for a split second, before regaining his composure. you faltered for a second, unsure of what had just happened. his nostrils flared a little and he closed his eyes for a second. "you're the most annoying hyna i've ever met."

you paused. "so you think i'm pretty?"

he rolled his eyes. "actually, shut up."

you let out a small smile, still kinda annoyed with him, as he was with you. he shoved you away from him, shaking his head and leaving the room.

"yeah, you go to your room mister," you teased. oscar stopped in his tracks and you knew you'd probably teased him one too many times for today. you cracked a proper smile this time, in fear of what was coming. he turned around and saw your face.

he immediately marched over, grabbing your waist as you squealed. he threw you over his shoulder before tossing you onto the couch. you let out a loud laugh as he did. your teasing worked every time, he was so easy.

"asshole," you breathed in between laughs. oscar picked up a pillow and chucked it at you.

"i can't believe it took me so long to realise how much i hate you," he towered over you, you held your hands up in defence.

"no you don't," you cheesed. oscar stared at you for a moment, you held the smile on your face, before picking up the same pillow and hitting you with it again over the head. "hey!"

"get a room, please," both your heads snapped towards the front door where cesar was now standing. he rolled his eyes, dropping his school bag at the door before quickly making his way to his room. "seriously, gross."

"at least i'm not sucking his face off like you with monse!" you shouted as he slammed his bedroom door behind him. "seriously, give the girl a break!" you heard cesar shout something incoherent back which you giggled at.

oscar watched with a smug expression as you interacted with his brother. you might be the biggest pain in his ass but there was something else there. you were the only person that could get away with speaking to oscar the way you do. he kinda liked it.

you averted your attention back to oscar, who you caught staring for a split second before he could realise what he was doing. you furrowed your brows for a split second. you noticed him do this a few times, more and more often.

"whatcha' staring at papi?" you titled your head, wearing a teasing smirk. you did kind of want an answer though.

he shook his head, a tortured smile on his lips when he did. "don't call me that."

"what? you can get away with calling me mami but i can't call you papi?" you sneered. "is it some kind of obscure double standard?"

he shook his head again, ducking. "call me that one more time and see what happens," he stood towering over you. you looked up at him quizzically. you were dying to know just exactly what he would do if you said it again. and you were exactly the kind of person to find out.

"what? papi?" you quirked an eyebrow. oscar rolled his head back, laughing a little.

"don't say i didn't warn you," your eyes widened and before you could protest, he was on top of you. his hands moved to your sides and he begun relentless tickling the life out of you. you squealed, desperately trying to push his hands away in between laughter.

"ok!" you shouted, pleadingly. "ok, ok, ok!" you kicked your feet, knocking oscar off his balance and causing him to crash on top of you. you groaned, the weight of him crushing you. you let out a strained breath. "jesus christ, what do you eat? you weigh a fucking tonne," you teased. oscar choked out a laugh, pushing himself up and off you with his arms either side of you.

he paused, his face hovering just above yours. the smile slowly slipped from your lips, your eyes darting between his as he stopped to look at you. your cheeks were flushed from all the squirming and laughing, your eyes wide and stunned, and your hair was all over the place, falling over your face. oscar pushed the hair out of your face.

you gulped, before whispering. "what're you looking at—" you choked on your words a little when oscar's lips tilted closer to yours. he took this as his cue and kissed you. your eyebrows raised, letting him kiss you for a moment before you retaliated. your hand roamed to his shirt where you balled your hand into a fist around the fabric and pulled him closer.

quickly after you pulled him closer, you came to your senses and pushed him away. you squirmed underneath him, pushing him off you and standing up. oscar sat quietly, mulling over what he'd just done, he wasn't sure whether that was something he should have acted on.

"what— why'd you just kiss me?" you had your back to him, you touched your lips with your fingers. you were breathing pretty heavily. you weren't sure how you felt about it. it felt good at the time, no doubt, but now you weren't so sure it should have happened. it could potentially mess everything up.

"i—" oscar couldn't form a sentence. you spun around to see he was just as baffled as you were. you chewed your lip, trying to think of what to do or say. "i don't know— you just looked at me and i— don't know."

your heart was beating pretty fast.

"i look at you all the time, oscar," the frown on your face softened. this was oscar, your best friend. of course you knew how attractive he was, and of course you were a little bit in love with him. but you never ever considered doing anything about it because you loved your relationship the way it was, and you would never want to ruin that.

he rolled his eyes when you said this. "why do you always have to say something annoying? you were the one looking at me with your stupid brown eyes, it's not my fault i got lost in them—"

"you got lost in my eyes?" you were gaping at him. you couldn't help but tease him, it was how your relationship worked. "jesus christ oscar. we kissed once and you're talking like a— i don't even know— like a taylor swift song."

"you're so dramatic," he rolled his eyes again, gritting his teeth slightly. he hadn't given this much thought until it happened, it wasn't something he thought about too much. he'd always seen you as a friend, nothing more. he kind of had to shut off the part of his brain that thought you were unbelievably attractive because otherwise he'd be kissing you all the time. and he liked you as his friend, so that wouldn't work out. "it was just a kiss. i'm not proposing."

"damn right you won't be," you huffed, calming down a bit now the shock of it had passed through your system. "i just don't know what this means. we're supposed to be friends."

"i don't know—" oscar huffed. "does it have to mean everything? can't i just kiss you and that's that? do we have to talk about it?"

you rolled your eyes this time. "you want to sit on this and never talk about it again like you do with everything else? like that has worked out so well for you already?"

he groaned. "i take back the kiss. you're so annoying."

you were both kinda quiet for a minute as you thought about it. you didn't know how to not mock him constantly, you'd been doing it for years, you didn't know how else to talk to him.

"do you like me?" you tried to be serious for once in your life.

oscar shrugged. "i don't know— maybe. i haven't thought about it," you nodded, accepting his answer. it was pretty similar to how you were feeling. "do you like me?"

you moved to sit next to him on the couch. "i probably would if you kissed me again," you said honestly. "it was a pretty good kiss.”

oscar tried to conceal his smirk, 'cause he knew you'd make some sort of snappy comment if you saw. he hummed. "yeah it was."

you clenched your jaw, glancing at oscar who was staring at you again. your eyes moved down to his lips and back up again. you leaned closer, inches away from his face, and when he didn't pull back, you leant forward and kissed him again.

oscar kissed back almost straight away, his hands touching your waist and pulling you closer. you deepened the kiss, your hands roaming to the back of his neck so you could get as close as possible. you were practically on top of him before you had to pull away for air.

breathing heavily, you retracted your arms and stared at him kind of hopelessly. "yeah that was definitely worth doing again."

oscar couldn't help but let out a soft smile, which you couldn't help but mimic.

"you're actually really pretty when you're not being a pain in the ass," you scoffed at his comment.

"i'm pretty all the time," you nudged his shoulder, jokingly.

he hummed, shrugging. "maybe a little."

"what does this mean?"

he shrugged for a the millionth time. you wanted to shove him and tell him to use his words but you decided against it. what it meant was that he wanted to kiss you again and again, but he didn't feel confident admitting that yet.

"we'll have to find out."

"could you be more vague—"

"alright. so i like you, you like me, we just keep this up and see where it goes."

you nodded hesitantly. he reached, touching your arm gently. "don't overthink it."

you smiled a little, rolling your eyes. "alright fine."

his hand moved to your ass, pulling you over, mumbling come 'ere. which you did, you rolled over, straddling him where he sat. you sat back, watching him take all of you in. you felt like you could get used to this. it was definitely better than a smack in the face with a pillow.

[kkusuka]

Inarizaki <3

gang bang masterlist

You had been friends with The Miya twins for as long as you could remember, so it was only natural for you to follow their love of volleyball too. 

You wanted to become manager of the team, you really did! There was one tiny problem with that, you were painfully shy.

That was the real downside to growing up with the twins, they were both very confident and sure of what they wanted, they made sure you were dependent on them, and eventually you were. 

 So Osamu came up with the idea to start with baby steps!

Just come watch them for one practice! That’ll show you that they aren't that scary! And you believe them, so there you were, on the balcony of the volleyball gym watching the team start to filter into the gym. 

Of course that didn't last long, within the first ten minutes the coach noticed you. And he immediately told you that you had to leave because it was a closed practice. Mortified you tried to get all your stuff and not draw more attention to your already trembling self, but when do things ever turn out the way you want them too. 

One second you were a step out the door and the next you pressed against Osamu’s chest as Atsumu explained what was happening. He coach, not wanting you to just sit there decided to make you do a bit of paperwork.

And thus began our long journey with the Inarizaki college volleyball team!

So how would the fuckery start?

It would be during a regular team hangout when you were coming back from the bathroom and someone bumped into you and somehow landed with a hand on your boob and the other on your butt, with lips smacked right on yours!

By Who? None other than Mr. Osamu Miya. who just stared at you, lips still touching and in shock, until someone pulled him off of you. 

Not wanting to fall behind his brother, Atsumu pulled you up and started to kiss you too! Until Osamu pulled him off, which gave Suna the perfect opportunity to get your face to his.

This went on until Kita cleared his throat, but at that point you had lost your shirt, pants and bra. 

And it began!

It always starts with Kita, but He’ll normally ask Aran to help him! 

KIta will volunteer to be in your ass, being the good captain he is, he doesn't want anyone to hurt your poor little hole, so he’ll stretch it for you!  If he’s doing it alone, he’ll have your back to his chest and his head in the crook of your neck, sucking hickeys into it. He’ll set you up so you're riding him and everyone can see how perfectly your ass takes his cock. He knows it hurts sometimes and that's why he’ll play with your little nipples and he’ll circle your throbbing cilt, it’ll feel better in a minute, just let him get all the way in. 

“ That’s a good girl, you like this don’t you?”

“God , yer always so tight, it's like the first time over and over again” 

If Aran joins the two of you, some little things change. He still takes your ass, but he knows it can hurt more because Aran is trying to fit in your clenching little pussy. Shin will lay down with you laying on top of him, while Aran places you into the mating press. Sure he’ll let Aran pound into you with reckless abandon and he’ll play with you nipples and he’ll grind on your ass. And the second Aran is done he’ll bounce you on his cock and tell you how great you're going, and what a good girl you are doing for your captain. 

“You're moaning so much baby, you must like it when daddy’s in you” 

“Tell your captain how much you love fucking him, now” 

As soon as they finish in you, Suna has to get a close up as he does with every creampie you are given. They all just think it's so pretty <3

But of course Ren can’t be ignored for too long, and neither can Agaki.so them swooping you up next was not very surprising. With them is super simple, Omimi takes your mouth while Agaki gets free range of your holes. He usually prefers your pussy (who wouldn't). But sometimes he’ll start with your pussy THEN seat himself in your ass and just fucks. These two have unbelievable stamina, they just go and go, and they take you with them. 

“You're still tight, god you never loosen up do you?”

“I know you're being fucked, but you still have to suck baby. Yup just like that”  

After suna’s annual Creampie shot, you get hit with the quartette. 

Suna takes your mouth, it allows him to get the best shot of whatever's happening on your lower half. And you just suck so good, when he’s not pounding your head. He’ll hold the camera and with his over and he’ll hold your head down. He makes it a big show too, he’ll throw his head back and moan as loud as he wants. And when he finally cum he makes you keep it in your mouth and he’ll show the camera the load in your mouth and make you swallow with your lips open. (he keeps that part of the video for the late nights in his bedroom) 

“That’s it, I know you can take it deeper. Don't cheat me out now y/n” 

“Aw, what a pretty girl, ah ah, keep your mouth open, you can swallow when I say so” 

Next up! Mr.Ginjima, the ass lover. No seriously, he’s said it to your face. And he lets everyone know too, he moans and groans and snarls in your ears, all the while ruining your poor little hole. And his voice gets all raspy and deep. He’ll either put his hands on your breasts or, even when you're deepthroating Suna, he’ll have a hand around your neck holding his fingers down on your pressure points. 

“Fuck. you fuck-fucking whore, you love this, I know you do” 

“Yeah clench like that, be good, slut”

Ok ok, you have two more people and one hole. Can you guess where this is going?

Atsumu and Osamu know it hurts, they really do. It's not going to stop them, but they'll let you sit and try to adjust. Taking two cocks in one hole was never easy, especially when you have another on in your ass and another in your mouth. Osamu always takes it upon himself to rub your little clit while Atsumu praises you for being a good little cocksleeve. When they finally get to move the sweetness goes from something to nothing, they are ruthless. Almost immediately going into a punishing pace and keeping it up until they cum. The actual fucking is nothing compared to when they pull out and your hole is stretched and leaking with their cum. After they let Suna’s little camera thing happen, Atsumu always likes to test the stretch by trying to fit his fist in your weeping hole. Like everything he does, Kita has to stop him after four fingers so the next two can have their turn! No worries he’ll get you sometime later and try it out! 

“You feel that ‘Samu? She's clenchin’ so much, we might get pushed out if we ain’t careful!” 

“You're right ‘Tumu, we’ll just have to go faster so that wont happen.” 

That leaves poor little Riseki, he still acts like a blushing virgin when you're on top riding him for your life. He puts his hand on your hips and tries to guide you, and give you some pleasure like he had seen his upperclassmen do so many times before. It takes the Help of Kita for him to talk a bit during sex, and he had learned to share with Yuto, who takes your mouth. But these two are always under the command of their captain so you can thank him for how good it feels. 

“Rub her clit, she likes that” “y-yes, Captain” 

“I-it feels good right, p-please say it feels good” 

Little extra things for my fox babies: 

If Kita deems that you've been bad, he’ll have you put on a leash and you’ll have to service the team until you've made it up <3

Suna made a PornHub account of all the videos of you, and they get over a million views every time 

Riseki did not participate the first time this happened, he had already overstimulated himself by the time they said it was his turn (and Suna has the picture of when they put the two of you next to each other and commented about how fucked out both of you looked) 

Aran has asked Suna for  pictures of you and he has them in a little envelope in his duffle bag.

Atsumu has accidentally sent a video of you choking on his dick to Sakusa. (he says it was an accident but everyone knows that Atsumu like to show you off)

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 5

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 6.8k

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 4 || Part 6 || masterlist

“Your lips aren’t disgusting,” Tsukishima says quietly, but loud enough to reach your ears. You did hear him the first time though. You just didn’t understand what he meant so you brushed it off as garbled words induced by your sleep-deprived brain. 

You didn’t expect him to contradict the subtle insult you unconsciously threw at yourself. From his reaction to your suggestion a while ago, you’d think he’d be glad that you instantly discarded it instead of pushing it further. 

You pull back just enough to see his somber expression meeting your baffled one.

“I thought you didn’t want to do it again,” you mutter softly even though the kiss snapped you out of your drowsiness.

“I changed my mind,” he simply says.  

“Uhhh. Care to elaborate?” you ask, still confused as to what his change of mind entails. Does he now agree to your earlier proposal? Or is he just saying that he doesn’t mind kissing you again? 

...Wait, isn’t that the same?

Okay, so apparently your mind is still fuzzy and not digesting the situation clearly. His closeness isn’t helping either. 

Maybe you’re actually still asleep and you’re having sleep paralysis on their sofa. In just a matter of seconds, Tsukishima’s face will turn demon-like and scream at how moronic you are for dreaming about this.

“You’re allowed to kiss me when it’s just the two of us,” the boy sitting in front of you announces.

Tsukishima tries not to look away so you wouldn’t think he feels awkward agreeing to your suggestion the same way you offered it. You look way better and more alert after he kissed you so he’s expecting you to say something sassy to get back at his brutal words. 

Instead, you wrap a hand around your throat. Before he can even process what you’re doing, your hand is already joined by the other. 

“What are you doing?” he asks both confused and worried as your hands tighten on your neck, but you don’t answer. He only confirms that you’re indeed choking yourself when you start gasping for air. 

“What the fuck!” He hurriedly yanks your hands away from your throat, gripping each wrist and pulling them away from one another. 

You inhale sharply from the absence of your hands blocking your windpipe.

It didn’t work. You’re still in sleep paralysis and with absolutely no idea how to get out.

You close your eyes and dejectedly lean on his chest. “I’m too tired to tell if this is real or a poorly conjured dream. Demon, begone,” you mumble while feebly knocking your head against him.

“Tsukishima will think I’m an idiot,” you add.

He usually doesn’t care about the aftermath of his words. The more they get under a person’s skin, the more it amuses him. But you seem to have really taken his words to heart this time, and he hates the fact that he’s bothered by it. He’d rather be annoyed by you than plagued with guilt.

He admits he was being a complete dick earlier, but he didn’t expect it would get to you like this, to the point that you’d even think you’re dreaming.

He sighs, accepting that he needs to deal with the consequences of his sharp tongue. “You’re not an idiot, y/n,” he softly says. You lift your gaze and look at him like he’s grown two heads. “So stop acting like one already,” he spurs on, unable to help himself as his true nature immediately returns.

You detach yourself from him as life returns back to your eyes. “Okay, I’m not dreaming. You’re definitely Tsukishima.” You shake your hands, probably to shake off the lethargy from your nap, then slap both your cheeks with your palms. 

You steady yourself as you face him again. You verify the vague exchanges you two had with one question. “I take it we have a deal then?” 

He holds your resolute stare, trying to come up with some set of rules but weariness is already hitting his cognitive capabilities. However, there is one that’s extremely necessary for the both of you to follow. 

“No one should know about this.”

You scoff at his answer. “No one  will  know about this,” you repeat his words with a more convincing variation. So despite the insane premise of the arrangement and its lack of detail, he agrees.

“Deal.”

--

Tsukishima heads straight to the kitchen as soon as he gets home. In spite of the audacious agreement you now have, neither of you felt awkward when he walked you to the main road to see you off. Once again, you were right. Accepting that he is also attracted to you somehow cleared his head. He still doesn’t like it, but it’s better than constantly being irritated at the strange pull you have on him. 

Since you’ve proven yourself to always be right, he’ll give this a go. It’ll only be until the end of the project anyways, which won’t be long from now considering the timetable you laid out. 

As he gets a pitcher of water, he sees Akiteru approaching the kitchen as well. He moves away from the fridge to make way in case his brother is going to get something from it. But Akiteru passes him by and leans on the counter next to him instead. 

He pours himself a glass while growing prickly of Akiteru’s not-so-subtle staring.

“If you’re going to say something, just say it,” he snaps. 

Akiteru laughs lightly at his displeasure. “She’s very lovely,” his older brother comments randomly, and yet he already knows Akiteru is without a doubt talking about you. 

Lovely?

His mind instantly goes back to when you were: (a) dancing like a crippled fledgling; (b) squawking like a dying seagull to imitate a crocodile; and (c) choking yourself because you thought you were dreaming. 

“If an alien in a human suit is lovely, then sure,” he answers dryly as he returns the pitcher back to the fridge.

“She’s really just a classmate?” his older brother probes. 

Akiteru has been insinuating for a while now that he should get a girlfriend, as if not having one will cause him to miss out on this ‘great’ experience of life. So now that he’s finally brought someone home, Akiteru had decided in his head that you’re a potential romantic partner. 

“How many times do I need to answer that?” he responds sourly. 

His brother smiles apologetically, but his face shows a regaled glimmer. “Sorry, Kei. I must have misunderstood since I don’t kiss my classmates on the lips.”

He stills right as he was about to bring the glass to his lips. 

He did not hear Akiteru’s steps back then. If he did, he’d quickly give himself adequate distance from you. He’d blame you for the distraction, but you weren’t really doing anything outrageous at that moment. You were actually unobtrusive and reasonable for the first time. It was him and his guilt that preoccupied him well enough to not notice Akiteru.

He finishes his water and leaves the glass on the counter. “Goodnight,” he says without looking at Akiteru as he hurriedly goes back to his room. 

It hasn’t been an hour since you two made the deal but someone -- worse, his own brother, has already found out. His only consolation is that Akiteru doesn’t really talk with his social circle so there’s no need to be worried. Also, Akiteru is not really the type to babble about stuff like that. 

The disadvantage is also the same as its advantage, it’s Akiteru. He might get all excited and continue assuming that there’s more to the two of you than this limited agreement, when the truth is you’re just two individuals who agreed to make out in secret.

But that’s something he wouldn’t dare reveal to anyone, most especially to Akiteru.

When he reaches his room, he immediately texts you. 

‘We meet in your place next time.’

Hopefully, Akiteru will forget whatever he saw tonight if you don’t come back. 

--

Surprisingly but not really, you and Tsukishima are getting along swimmingly since you made the deal. ‘Swimmingly,’ meaning he still ignores you and regards you as a pest during practice. During your private meetings, however, he is agreeable. 

It still seems unbelievable to you when you actually think about it. You and Tsukishima exchanging kisses when no one’s around? You’d have a good laugh if someone even suggested that idea to you before you shared that first, completely unintended kiss.

It is indeed comical, how you two would sit across each other, and with only a certain glance, both of you already know what’s up. Eventually, it became a bother to stand and go over to one another just for a kiss so you two sit side by side now.

Tsukishima is funny though. Sometimes, he wouldn’t act upon it because he expects you to take the initiative. You don’t mind doing it, but it’s fun to see him all bothered while trying to study. 

“Tsukishima, you look weird. Are you okay?” You feigned concern even though you clearly know why. 

He didn’t spare you a glance at all and just mumbled, “I’m fine,” while typing.

“Hmmm, alright! I’m done so we can wrap up now,” you let him know as you started fixing your stuff up. You thought that he’d hold on to his dumb ego and follow suit since you’ve finished cleaning up, but he still hadn’t done anything. 

You held back a smile when you felt him grab your arm. You swiftly composed yourself before turning to his direction. 

“What?” you ask like you don’t have a clue.

He glowers at you. “You know what.”

You pursed your lips to the side as you gently shake your head. “I am very confused right now,” you acted persuasively.

He puffed tempestuously before he grabbed your nape and roughly descended down on your lips, utterly disregarding his unnecessary pride. You willingly reciprocate it. You latched your fingers in his wrist beside your cheek as you responded to each suck and nip of his lips.

When it ended, you smiled into his mouth which effectively gave you away. 

He harshly pulled himself away from you. “You fucking knew,” he muttered furiously.

You scrunched up your nose and grinned mischievously as you gently tapped his cheek. “Of course, I knew. See you tomorrow at the match, Tsukishima,” you said, gesturing to his scattered belongings.

Needless to say, he was extra salty with you during the match with the Lions. But hey, at least they won the game. 

However, despite the Lions now out of the picture, your workload isn’t any better because winning only means needing to prepare the next opponent’s profile. You’re just a bit thankful now that unwarranted and unexpected kisses are no longer bothering you since the two of  you acknowledged the stupid attraction you have for each other.

Still, that doesn’t mean that your body has magically recovered and you’re no longer stressed all of a sudden. Because you are. You are stressed as fuck. With your academic load also on the line, you can’t rest yet.

You’re starting to feel overwhelmed and whenever that happens, you succumb to your one coping mechanism: stress eating. 

You’re about to meet Tsukishima but you have a few minutes to spare, so you head to the nearest cake shop. You buy a mini cake for yourself and one slice for Tsukishima. You don’t feel like sharing yours so you just get him his own. 

With a paper bag in hand, you see Tsukishima waiting for you by your dormitory’s entrance. You waste no time and ask him to follow you even though he probably already knows where exactly your room is. 

One would think that when the door closes, you two would jump on each other’s arms and just get on with your deal, but nah.

You two get to your usual seats with your mind solely on the cake you bought as both of you take out your notes and laptop. 

After you pull up the journal you need to look at for the day, you eagerly bring out the cake.

‘Hnnnngg,’  you groan internally. The cake’s design is so pretty that you almost don’t wanna eat it. But of course you will. You’ve never had strawberry shortcake from that shop before, so you’re curious to taste if it’s as good as it looks. 

Just as you’ve been ogling at your cake, you catch Tsukishima staring at it as well. “Do you want some, Tsukki?” you ask before you give the slice you got for him. 

“Why would I want something childish?” he asks back with a scowl. 

“I don’t see how a cake is childish but okay.” You would’ve felt bad, but you’ll have the extra slice for yourself anyways so it’s not really that bad.

Normally, you would like to savor the pastry while doing something fun, but you don’t have the time for it right now. You’ll just eat it while doing your assigned stuff for the day. 

For someone who thinks cake is childish, he keeps glancing at you with tiny hints of envy every time you take a bite. When he sees you catch him peering at the cake, he instantly flicks his eyes back to his laptop.

To verify your hunch, you moan exaggeratedly the next time you take a spoonful of the cake, instantly earning you a menacing glare from the blonde across you. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just so good, you know. The bread is so fluffy. The cream is not too sweet. The strawberry filling has actual bits of strawberry.” You enact a chef’s kiss after your detailed remarks. 

“Amazing. Best I’ve ever had. 10/10 would recommend and buy again,” you give a positive review before getting another slice.

When you get another spoonful, you groan again and roll your eyes for added effect. You look at Tsukishima and you can tell that it’s getting to him. Yet, he’s still not saying anything. He only keeps staring as if silently imploring you that you should let him have a taste as well. 

As if you’ll bend to his will just like that. 

“If you want some, just say so,” you taunt him with a smirk as you scoop the last spoonful in the plate, giving him not much time to swallow his pride and ask. 

Before you can put it in your mouth, he stops you. “Fine,” he says as he grits his teeth. “I want some.” 

Tsukishima really is funny. It’s only cake but he sounds so angry and embarrassed just because he asked for a tiny piece. How can you not tease him just a bit more?

You take the remaining piece and move beside him. You get the spoonful of cake, extending your arm and offering it to him that way. 

He looks at the cake and then you. “I know how to eat,” he enunciates coldly at your attempt to spoon feed him. 

You shrug it off with an ‘okay,’ then proceed to withdraw your hand so you can have it for yourself. 

“Wait.”

You comply and let your retreating arm stay in place. A faint pink tint surfaces on his cheeks as he leans down and takes the cake from the spoon with his mouth. When he starts munching on it, he looks away and slump a little while savoring the small remains you gave him.

You press your lips together to repress a smile cause you know he’ll be even more embarrassed. But holy crap, Tsukishima is so cute like this! You want to take a picture of him right now and just ogle at how adorable he is when he’s this flustered. 

The Sendai Frog’s nastiest middle blocker, standing at 6’3, likes strawberry shortcake. You’re reeling internally at your astounding discovery. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he snarls with the tiny blush still on his face.

You can’t help it anymore and give him a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing,” you squeak out from how hard you’re trying not to gush at his cuteness.

He suddenly regains his composure as he narrows his eyes while studying your face. 

It’s your turn to be conscious from how he seems to have discovered something about you as well. 

“What?” you ask warily.

You’re completely caught off guard when he puts a hand on your shoulder and lunges down. His lips capture the skin just beside the corner of your mouth, delicately sucking on the skin before brushing his warm tongue against it. 

You go rigid on your seat at the totally unexpected action from him. It’s not even a kiss but you feel goosebumps prickling your skin while the air you’re breathing gets stuck in your throat. 

That’s all he does then hoists himself back up, his features devoid of any emotion as if he didn’t just do something bold. His hand on your shoulder goes up to spot he just licked and strokes it with his thumb. 

“You eat like a ten-year old,” he says blankly. 

Just like that, the situation is reversed. He now has the upperhand while you’re completely frozen as your mind helplessly tries to come up with something, anything, to hide the fact that you’re a complete muddled mess on the inside.

But nothing. Your mind does not work and all its attention is still on the little stunt Tsukishima pulled just now. 

Being the manager of the Frogs, you’ve always seen them as cute little puppies you need to take care of. You’re the one in charge of them so you always feel like you’re the one in control. The sense of control is even more reinforced with other male athletes getting swept away with your antics during matches. 

Even with the several kisses you shared with Tsukishima, it’s only now that you’re rendered utterly disconcerted. Your lips start to tremble while your brows contort with horror from the foreign feeling that’s creeping on your whole body.

Fuuuucck, you curse silently at your mind’s incapability to come up with a solution to handle the situation. 

To make it worse, the corner of his lips start to tug up, forming a smug grin that suits him ludicrously well. 

“You okay, y/n?” His pompous demeanor lets you know that the question is not out of concern. He is very much aware of the effect he has on you. He’s just milking it.

And it’s fucking working.

He drags his thumb to your chin and tilts it up to get a better view of your features growing even more at loss by the second. “What’s wrong, hmm?”

You press your quivering lips together as you harshly avert your gaze from his. “Nothing,” you say too softly, losing the playfulness you had not long ago.

“What’s that?” He pretends to not hear it. 

Seems like you’ve had enough because you swat his hand away from your chin and cover your whole face with both hands. 

His grin spreads wide from your surrender as a chuckle escapes his throat. To entertain himself even more, he pries your hands away from your face. It’s easier than he expected since your wrists are like twigs with no strength in them.

Your face is a furious shade of rose as you glare at him with both shame and anger. You try to retrieve your arms but he’s obviously way stronger than you. “Tsukishima, you smooth li’l shit, let go of me!”

With that, he releases you as he cackles from your remark. He can now see the merits of acknowledging the inexplicable magnetism between him and you. Now that he doesn’t have to feel conflicted about it, he can relish breaking your previously impervious defenses by teasing you this way. 

There wasn’t even any cake on your face. He just made it up to get back at you for toying with him like one of your dumb admirers. 

You give off one enraged puff then you go back to face your laptop.  You try to look fine but you’re trying too hard. He can tell that you’re still bothered by it even when you’re focused on your screen now. 

He gets back to his own as well, the same grin he had earlier still there. He thought you’re going to keep ignoring him for the rest of your meeting, but before he can even focus on his own task, you awkwardly slide him the paper bag you had. 

“I actually got you a slice in case you wanted one,” you huff timidly while meeting his surprised gaze. You don’t say anything else and get back to working. 

That was… thoughtful of you. You got him one even if he didn’t ask for it. And despite teasing you like that, you still gave it to him. If it was him, he wouldn’t have bothered.

He gets the cake and saves it for later at home. He’d like to enjoy it alone away from your cheekiness, ridding you the chance to make fun of him the second time.

When he looks at you again, you give him a brief glance before settling in to do your assignment. He does the same since you two have frolicked enough for the day. 

He had learned something about you from your former meetings:  you have unbreakable focus when you start concentrating on something. You don’t talk. You don’t fiddle with your phone. You don’t even peel your eyes away from the screen unless you’re checking something on your notes.  

The remarkable thing is how efficient you are. You work fast and come up with decent output. He’s seen it both in your write up for the project and in the reports you give to the team.

It’s almost impressive, if not for its inevitable downside: you run out of steam just as fast, which is what seems to be happening right now. He’s ignored the first two yawns he’s heard from you, but he can’t dismiss the third consecutive yawn. 

He looks at your direction and confirms that you’re indeed starting to drop your attentiveness. Your eyes are becoming lazy and you’re just pressing your keyboard too hard one key at a time. 

“Oy, it’s still early for you to be sleepy,” he scolds you.

You tap your face, a futile attempt to wake yourself up because your eyes are still dazed when you look at him. “It’s the cake. I overfed myself and now I want to sleep like one.” You groan as you realize your mistake. “No worries though. I just need coffee,” you mutter. 

He slams his palm on the wooden surface of your table. “Do not get coffee,” he warns almost threateningly. He does not want a repeat of what happened the last time where you’re one wheeze away from death because of your damn coffee.

“But I need it,” you protest.

“No, you don’t. What you need is rest.”

“Don’t wanna. It felt weird last time. I don’t like slacking off when someone else is being productive,” you insist further.

He sighs irritably at your obstinacy. There’s no need to rush because you two managed to get back on the schedule you set, but then again he understands why. You’re trying to get as much shit done before your responsibilities become too much for you. 

That’s probably how you’ve been getting by for the past three years, being a university scholar while managing the team. If being a student while being an athlete is already difficult for him, how much more  for you who has grades to maintain while working as well?

If it were anyone else, they’d have exploded from the humongous amount of work that entails. Yet, you come to the gym with that carefree attitude of yours like you’re not burdened in any way. In all the times you’ve met with him outside the gym, not once has he heard you complain about it. 

You don’t whine. You just do what needs to be done.

It’s something worth respecting, to say the least. But you should really rest when your body tells you to. 

“I’ll stop doing the report and watch volleyball clips from last year’s Olympics. Take your nap,” he says. 

Your face brightens up at his suggestion. “Can I watch with you?”

“No.” The point of him watching is so that you can rest easy, not for you to join him. However, the look on your face tells him you won’t budge unless he lets you watch with him. 

“I swear, it’ll do me better than a nap,” you press on. 

He rubs his temple with irritation as you leave him with no choice but to agree. “Fine.” You squeal at his approval and scamper to his side. 

He opens his folders of volleyball clips he’s yet to watch while you tuck your knees together the same way you did last time you watched documentaries for your project. 

Halfway through the first clip, he feels your head bump his shoulder. He peers at you from his peripheral and sees your hazy eyes fighting off sleep. He doesn’t say anything and just waits for your drowsiness to successfully take over. 

By the end of the first video, he feels your head bobbing forward which he can no longer ignore. “Can’t you just go to your bed and sleep?” he asks almost desperately. 

You fix your posture and open your eyes again. “I’m fine.”

He rolls his eyes and gives a resigned huff as he skids his laptop to your front. You shoot him a puzzled look while he positions himself behind you. 

“Continue watching then.” He scoots closer until your back is pressed to him, effectively caging you as he extends his legs on your both sides. There’s no use trying to convince you to sleep when you’re this stubborn. So, he’ll just provide you the means to do so. 

You frown at him which he answers with a raised eyebrow. In the end, you just shrug it off and go back to watching. 

Just as he anticipated, you’re already unconscious in a matter of minutes. Your head falls back to his chest. He lets you settle deeper in your sleep, watching you unconsciously find a position you’re most comfortable in. By the time the second video ends, you’re no longer wiggling around and have found refuge on the front of his shoulder with your arm loosely wrapped around his bicep. 

Although he did say that he’ll slack off with you, he sees no reason to uphold it now that he’s finally got you to rest. Unlike you, he works at a normal pace. He needs to continue doing his own tasks so when you wake up, he’s already done as well. 

He carefully reaches for his laptop and closes the video currently playing. He gets back to working on the current draft of the project, feeling the strain on his back with nothing to support him while you lean against him. 

He shouldn't be doing this. There is no reason for him to be inconvenienced this way by you. This isn’t part of the deal.

But seeing how you’re working so hard yet still face everyone else with that vexatious cheerful smile of yours, he deems you deserving of that serene look on your face while you’re peacefully snuggled within his grasp. 

Just as he allowed you to kiss him, he also allows you to hold on to him like this. 

--

“Hey, number 17!”

Tsukishima hears someone yell. He’s sure that it was him who’s being called because he recognizes the voice. It’s someone from the Jaguars, the team they’re up against after winning against the Lions the previous game.

Still, he’d like to pretend that he doesn’t know it’s him the other athlete is shouting for. The gym is filled with other number 17s from different teams anyways. He can easily dismiss it. 

However, he hears his last name not long after, automatically singling him out from the other players who also wore his jersey number. 

Even though he despises small talk, it would be rude to ignore other players when they specifically call for him in public. Not that he bothers about what other people think of him, but more about how he represents his team. 

In high school, he didn’t care at all. But things are different now in the professional level. He’s forced to engage in insignificant nonsense with other players. 

He just hopes that this time it won’t be one of those times and that whatever this is is actually important

He turns around lazily and sees not one, but two Jaguars approaching him. It’s their starting setter and their pinch server. “I thought you couldn’t hear us, dude,” the setter says. He doesn’t reply and just stands his ground while waiting for what they’re going to say. 

“Anyways, mind if we ask the number of your manager?” 

It’s worse than nonsense. They approached him because of you.

They turn towards each other and simper at how they seem to think that it’s a genius idea to ask him instead of you. 

“You can ask her yourself. She’s just over there with the rest of the team,” he passively suggests. He’d be glad to lead these two poor hopeful souls if they want to. He’s sure you’d be more than happy to entertain them, in your own kind of way. 

“Nah. We know how she disses everyone. That’s why we’re asking you, Tsukishima-kun,” the pinch server counters. 

He’s the least protective of you compared to the rest of the team. He doesn’t care if you flirt all day long with these people or if you give your number to every single person here at the stadium. 

But whatever these hoodlums the idea that  he’ll  be the one to give your number to them? It’s not his to give. It’s yours. “It’s not really my decision to make,” he responds. 

“Is she really that good of a manager that you won’t share her?” 

He would’ve not perceived anything out of it if not for the malicious grin that surfaced on the setter’s poor excuse of a face. The two athletes step closer and speak in a volume only for him to hear. 

“Come on now. Don’t tell us you guys are not touching that hot piece dangling itself in front of you.”

‘Lowlives.’ 

That’s the most fitting word he can describe these two uneducated imbeciles who talk like you’re a slice of meat. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially you who madly dedicate yourself out of actual interest and affection for the team and the sport. 

Yet, these two fucking dimwits are insinuating that you’re available for him and his teammates to sleep around with. It’s more than just disrespect. It’s an absolute mockery of the effort and commitment you have for the job. 

It’s not his place to be angry. He’s not the one being slighted. But the image of your exhausted features fighting off sleep to do the report of these scumbags in front of him makes him want to do something about their blatant lack of intelligence. 

“Don’t look so scary now. We’re not going to steal your manager. We just want to know what it’s like to have a hot one managing us,” the setter once again proves his brainlessness to Tsukishima, successfully provoking him to do what he’s been itching to do. 

He offers them a too-pleasant smile that he gives to people who are about to get a taste of his snide irony. “Sorry, but it’s not really my problem that no one wants to manage a bunch of unsightly goons.”

A vein on the setter’s temple looks like it’s about to pop out as his hand yanks Tsukishima’s collar. 

“The fuck did you say?!” The setter of the Jaguars lashes out, quickly losing his temper amidst the public gymnasium.

The feigned smile on Tsukishima’s face is replaced by a genuine smirk as the two dimwits react exactly the way he wants them too. Although he can rile them up even more than he did, something tells him that these peabrains will actually resort to violence if he does so.

They’ll definitely be held out from playing the game if they do get violent, but so will he if he gets involved. 

Even though he looks unmotivated and lazy, he actually likes being on the court. And if he’s going to be honest, he looks forward to blocking the tosses of the setter who’s clutching his shirt at present.

“You shitty blocker,” the pinch server backs up his teammate. 

The shift of attention from you to Tsukishima doesn’t surprise him at all. From slandering you, they quickly move to verbally attacking him. His eyebrow twitches up from the remark but doesn’t bother responding to it. 

Why would he when he’ll just prove them wrong later? Instead of engaging with these two, he should be getting back to the rest of the team to get ready for their match. 

He’s about to grab the setter’s wrist to yank it off him when a set of feminine fingers beat him to it.

“My, my. Thank you for wanting to be friends with one of our players, but he really needs to warm up now,” you say with congenial sympathy to the upcoming competition. 

They seem to have forgotten that you’re the reason why they approached him. The setter releases Tsukishima’s shirt with a glare before the two Jaguars walk away.

“Bye, bye! Let’s get along well, yeah??” you shout and wave at them way too enthusiastically. You probably didn’t catch them talking about you, which is a good thing because you didn’t need to hear that kind of horse shit.

You put a light hand on his shoulder, making him anticipate a lecture from you for dawdling around. But you only tell him that you two should go back already. 

As you both turn around, the smile on your face drops while your grip on his shoulder tightens. 

“Did it bother you that much?” he asks as you both walk back to the court. 

“You bet it did. The gall of them to call you a shitty blocker, those fuckfaces. I swear to God, I would’ve,” you take a sharp breath then slowly let it out as you take your hands off him. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just the usual gibberish talk among athletes,” you say to yourself, more than to him.

“What about what they said before that?”

Your brows scrunch up as you try to figure out what he’s talking about. “You mean when they assumed I’m sexing everyone from the team? Nah. I know some people think I’m a slut because I’m too sexy for their lame asses. I’m used to it so I don’t really care about crap like that,” you explain way too casually. 

He thought that at this time and age, people would be a little more progressive with how they think. Apparently, he was wrong. He’s always observed how you put yourself out there, entertaining any flattery that’s thrown at you. It’s also very obvious how open you are to showing affection for the team.

But he didn’t think people would have such indecent assumptions about you. What surprises him even more is you’ve been aware of it for some time now. Still, you continue being yourself.

“But Goooood. Their childish shit talking really pissed me off.” Your previous attempt to calm yourself down fails as anger graces your features once again.

“Promise me something, Tsukishima,” you tell him a few steps away from the court.

“What?” 

“Up your blocking game and win. I want to see those fucktard’s faces pulverized with defeat,” you announce as you seethe with fiery determination.

“There’s no need to promise,” he says calmly before the curve of his lips form a subtle yet definite grin. You immediately get his message as you mirror the arrogant pride on his face with a smirk of your own.

—

You’re not particularly competitive. Even as the captain of your own team before, you did not play to win. You played with your very best because you want to experience all the sport has to offer.

Maybe that’s why you stopped playing and decided to be a manager. You love the sport, but not as an athlete. You just love pushing people to their potential and being their support so they can give their all during matches.

Although you do like winning, you’re not hellbent on it. As long as the team gives their everything and you see them at their best, you’re happy with that.

This match is an exception.

At 23-24 with the Sendai Frogs on their match point, you’re clutching your notebook way too hard that the pages become crumpled and the edges dig in your palms.

When you saw Tsukishima earlier approached by the two Jaguars, you didn’t intervene immediately. You were near the area, watching and listening as to how things will unfold. You didn’t hear much of their mumbled conversation, but you caught enough words to put together that it was you they’re talking about. 

You do gain a lot of attention, but some of them are not exactly wholesome. Apparently, being outspoken and open equates to being easy to bed.

You just wish they said something more interesting because you almost yawned at how unoriginal their speculation is. You fucking around with the Sendai Frogs? Groundbreaking. 

What amused you though is Tsukishima’s response. Right at that moment, you wanted to kiss his snarky mouth. Not because he defended your honor, but from the clever snide comeback he quickly spat at their faces. 

Your amusement was quickly ruined when one of them laid a hand on him. You didn’t care that the fuckfaced setter did it in public. Even if he did it with no one around, your blood still would’ve boiled. But when he said that Tsukishima was a shitty blocker? The palm of your hand itched to get roughly acquainted with the opposing setter’s face. 

If this isn’t a tournament, you would’ve had a hard time deciding whether or not you’d have done it. But since this  is  a tournament, you can’t do that. You need to be civil and maintain good relations with every team, even if some of their members lack basic decency and  proper manners. 

Luckily, there is a way to get back at them: that is to win this match which has got you to the edge of your seat as soon as it reached the 20s of the second set. 

With Tsukishima, Eiji, and Kogane in front, there’s nothing to be scared about. It’s just that you really want them to score that last point already. 

The ball gets to your court and is received by Kogane, effectively cutting out your most optimal set-up to attack. 

“Tsukki!” Kogane calls out. Tsukishima runs to the center of the court, right in front of the net. The opposing blockers observe him to predict who he’s tossing the ball to, only to leave him completely open as he dunks the ball to the Jaguars’ side of the net.

You were sure it happened fast, but the pounding of your heart made it seem like the ball hitting the ground was in slow motion. You wait for the referee’s signal, hoping that there were no misplays on the Frog’s end that would prolong the game. 

The referee whistles and extends his arm to the Frog’s court, letting everyone know that it’s your team’s win. Cheers from team members themselves roar inside the gymnasium, soon joined by the applause from the audience. 

You’re supposed to check the losing facade of the Jaguars, but the joy and relief of winning floods you that you completely forget about how they insulted your clever middle blocker. You leave your tally notebook on the bench and rush to the court along with other members. 

You’ve always been impressed with Tsukishima’s blocking skills, but to win from his offensive mindfuckery with the other team just sent you to a whole different level of being proud. So it’s him you first go to. 

Without putting any thought to it, you wrap your arms around his waist. You don’t mind that he’s sweating and that his body heat is emanating from his skin. You’re too thrilled that he scored the winning point to even care. 

“Good job, Tsukishima!”

Right after saying it out loud, you feel him tense beneath your touch. You lift your gaze up to him and meet his eyes which are wide from shock and panic. Immediately after, your eyes do the same when you realize what you’ve done.

The loud cheers from the team have stopped.  You slowly turn your head to see why, even though you already know the reason.

It’s like a paused scene from a movie where everyone completely halts whatever they’re doing. The only difference is they stopped with their attention completely on you, specifically on how your limbs are enclosed around Tsukishima’s waist and your cheek flat on his chest. 

Shit. 

You’re hugging Tsukishima in public, in front of the whole team.

Part 4 || Part 6 || masterlist

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[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 12

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: We continue the three perspectives!!! AND we got special appearances from a few characters today eeeeee we’re so close to the finale. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

WORDS: 12,068  WARNINGS: violence, arm dislocation, muscle injuries, alcoholism, mentions of coffee addiction and insomnia

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

Dick:

That day, this all ends.

Telling himself he got into this mess because he hadn’t a choice, that he hadn’t already stopped because it was all just too riveting and captivating and not at all within his control, was nothing short of a lie.

He had every say in it.

But not even his fucking conscience could convince him to stop. He wanted this mess. Dove right into the lava. He knew every bit of the heartbreak he’d have to endure and he willingly brought it to himself. To get lost into the deep dark woods, with nothing more than an oil lamp, to be pricked by the many thorns and suffocated by the leaves and trees that crowd about much like a bush. To get lost in her, and never want to climb out of any of it. He knew how slippery the road ahead of him was and still he kept going, kept driving, sped up a little even when he thought he’d actually get to where the stars pointed him to.

But so profoundly was his loss of himself, without much effort at all to escape from those grasps even when he told himself he did; going to another woman, wanting the same arrest of his heart to hopefully take him away, but without halting those thoughts of Y/N and how her smile that he’d seen earlier that day would last until dark, maybe even beyond that. Those flares of her face and her voice and how he let them speak to her every night, change them into burning whispers against his ear when he’s memorized her voice too much to make her say anything he wanted her to, even when they only last in his head.

Dick never tried to stop her from taking her heart like that, even when he had to watch her be with another.

Tonight, it all ends. Every bit of this torture that he brought only to himself, it all comes to this sorry halt.

Dick, standing atop a roof of an office building in Dresher, knew that at that moment, he had to sit this one down. He had to be alone and in the darkness to make this as painful as it possibly could, hoping that if all that pain were to be felt now, compress them into this little tub of static blackness, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad the next day, and the day after that. Even when he knew this would backfire, he had to.

No one, especially not Y/N, would want him to end up with her. Tim deserved her. Hell, even Jason’s done a lot more for her sake than he had. He can't hope anymore. He can't let this go on.

All this would have gone better if he’d known this sooner.

So with him on that rooftop, sitting on the ledge fifty stories above as if not at all was he a push away from death, Dick let his finger scroll across his phone’s screen moist from his sweat. The battery was going to run out soon. He’d been there for hours, staring at that same picture of her from the day in the nursery, when the sun had been kind to her, touching the surface of her skin so perfectly, it showed more of the little details that he’d already memorized. Those exact images would be thrown out by the end of tonight. Pack their bags. Scram them out the door.

It had, as expected, proven to be difficult.

The thirty-seven pictures he took that day, he’d already heartly remembered by the end of it. Countless of times, he pulled them out of his pocket just to take a second to look, even at the worst. Another month had passed and nothing had happened much since, nothing out the ordinary, which meant their friendship was back to how it used to be. They were friends.

And that was why it ends tonight. Because if he doesn’t fight these thoughts, if he doesn’t fight her, he loses her. He loses this friendship.

Are you sure you want to delete this photo?

Confirm.

Confirm.

Confirm.

Thirty-six times, he let his finger do the talking. Not his heart. Not even his brain.

At the last one, the screen was too distorted by a fallen tear that had seeped out of his domino mask for him to go on. It was the only hindrance he needed to give up and stop. At least for a second.

But he couldn’t even dwell on it too much, or let himself cry, let it burn his skin off enough so it wouldn’t hurt any more afterwards. He couldn’t even let himself have that luxury when he heard the thudding noise of his brother’s boot-cladded feet, a Bo staff that hit the ground, and a black cape that enforced a gust of wind to blow against the back of his head.

Dick just closed his eyes, and just after that, Tim walked over to stand right behind him.

Greatest Detective in the World. But even an idiot would know what he was up to, sitting in the darkness crying while his feet dangle off a rooftop’s ledge, eyes to his phone like he was reading the saddest sob story in the whole world or that he’d just received a text that one of his loved ones’ lives had been taken away from cancer.

The way Tim was silent, he knew.

And Dick just let him believe it, without even a word to explain himself, he did. He let Tim’s mind do the figuring out and the explaining because not even his own words would be half that truth.

Tim’s voice that night wasn’t the kind he heard often.

“You think this is the right time for that, Dick?”

A crack on his knuckles, his throat sounding rough and beaten, Dick didn’t know what to even say.

“We called you fifteen times over at the bridge. We needed you-“

“Sorry-“

“And it turns out you’ve been at your phone the whole time-“

“You handled it without me.”

“That isn’t the fucking point.”

A month of silence, since that deathly night after they took Y/N home. Several minutes, together in one car, had proven to be one of the most insufferable moments of his life. And not surprisingly, it went on for even more days after that.

Dick turned off his phone, but Tim snatched it away from his hands and walked away so Dick couldn’t grab it.

He stood from the ledge. “Come on, Tim. Not cool.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Tim faked a smile and swiped around the screen, at the last picture of Y/N he had. “Could have sent it to me. And Jason.”

“Tim-“

“But it’s cool,” Tim said. He threw the phone back at Dick and he caught it just before it hit the ground. “All good. Finally, you have something of her all to yourself, right?”

Tim was Tim. Not this. Not someone so angry and grievous and someone who was looking at him that way with so much disgust when he used to be that young boy of fourteen who looked at his older brother like a god. How long, he thought, must he have kept all this frustration bundled up inside, where not even he could reach into. Someone who’s so calm, so in control of what he says, had finally given in and let his annoyance flourish about. He wondered, as anyone would, at what point Tim had finally had enough of all of this.

“Tim, please-“

“You,” Tim pointed his gloved finger right at Dick’s face.

“You were supposed to be my brother.”

.

Tim:

Of course, he’s had enough.

He’s had enough of all this a lot longer than anyone else, even he, would have thought.

It might have been since that day Y/N was crying over an argument they once had, over something he can't even remember, that almost pried them apart, only for Dick to come along and console her without telling Tim where he was, and he only knew because Y/N told him what happened. If she hadn’t, Tim wouldn’t have known.

He wouldn’t have known Dick had long been pining over the love of his life, never mind how she was in his arms and kissing his lips and calling for his name.

Dick, who could have literally anyone he could possibly wish for, just had to want her.

“What do you want me to say?” The asshole started after a moment’s silence, of nothing but a helicopter’s whirl from far above, the lack of light from everywhere around them, and their footsteps against the empty cement.

He couldn’t even look at his brother in the eye with his mask on, but he knew enough to know what he felt. It didn’t matter if he was sincere. It didn’t even matter that he cried.

“Nothing,” Tim said. “You’ve done your damage.”

“Damage?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Tim scoffed and faked yet another laugh. It annoyed himself at that point.

“You are unbelievable-“

“I’m not trying to do anything with her anymo-“

“Don’t even start with that, asshole.”

Tim’s hands were shaking, and subconsciously he tried to repress those tremors, hoping they’d go away if he clenched them enough, but they only got worse.

“She was mine,” he cried. “And you just couldn’t handle that-“

“I never tried anything with her when you were together.” Dick tried to step closer to him but he just backed away.

“So you weren’t just waiting for us to break up so you’d swoop in and be the hero?” he scoffed. “I asked you to make sure she was okay, not take advantage of her hurting just so you’d have your chance.”

“And why did you break up, Tim?” He had the audacity to ask. “You didn’t love her anymore-“

“You knew I still did-“

“Then why hurt her?!”

“Because I was hurting her anyway!”

Never. He’s never been this angry. Not that he could recall.

“I was 17. Everything about me changed. Wayne Enterprises. Red Robin. Fucking Bruce dying and coming back to life. She was there but I was about to lose my fucking mind. I thought she didn’t have a place in all that mess anymore so I broke it off.”

Finally, he stepped close enough to Dick, almost to leveling with his height. His brother had his lips hidden, hands falling to his sides.

He looked terrified.

“Two seconds after that, I never regret anything more my whole fucking life. I thought talking to you would make her feel better, but you just couldn’t help but bat your pretty little eyes at her when she was vulnerable. I wanted to go back but I couldn’t ‘cuz you were already there!”

He was snarling, and a growl escaped his throat by the time he backed away. Tim didn’t even get to hear himself until he saw his own reflection in the white of Dick’s mask.

But Dick. He didn’t even take it as a hint to just shut up and take his rambling.

“I never meant to keep her away from you-“

“I went to you, Dick.” Tim wiped his lips with the back of his gloves, watched over to the next building to avoid his brother’s face. “I always went to you for help. With her. You know how long I’ve wanted her. And I went to you because I thought you were my brother and you’d help me.”

“I did help you!”

“You were helping yourself!”

His hands slammed against Dick’s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t fight back. He would have just taken that as an excuse to keep hitting.

“Tim,” Dick held his hands up. Tim backed away. “Just go to her-“

“THIS ISNT ABOUT HER ANYMORE, ASSHOLE!”

Hands shoving his chest once again. This time, Dick had caught them, held them by his wrists enough so Tim couldn’t pull them away.

“THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND ME, GRAYSON!” Tim screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HAVING EACH OTHER’S BACKS!”

“YOU THINK IT WAS MY CHOICE TO GET IN BETWEEN YOU!?”

It was from a whip of strength not even he had known prior, but it hurt when he finally could take his hands off of Dick’s grip, and with that, he backed further away, though his eyes couldn’t stray from looking straight into his brother’s.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF IT WAS-“

“THEN I’M SORRY!’ Dick swallowed. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

“No,” Tim’s knees hit the railing and so close did he fall, but he kept himself up, rubbed the bottom of his chin with his gloved hand. “You're not sorry…”

Dick’s silence. Even more so did he want to just lunge at him and strangle his vocal chords. No matter how far-fetched, Dick was supposed to tell him all the things he wanted him to say. So far, he’s said none of that.

Dick just watched when Tim turned around to rest his weight onto his palms, looking out into the open seeking for just about any kind of help there was that he could call out from the wind, but there was nothing.

“You're right,” Dick said, and Tim felt the cement crack from beneath his palms. “I’m not sorry.”

“Fucking bold of you-”

“What would have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in?” He heard Dick’s voice louder and clearer, which meant he was walking closer towards him.

“I would have come back. I always wanted to come back, but by then she was all over you. I couldn’t-“

Tim looked at his own hands. “I had it coming. I can't blame her.”

Another whiff of air, and it blew the strands of his black locks right onto his eyelids. They stung, but he didn’t push them away. He just kept his eyes locked onto the blankness of the gray, the dark that went all the way into his spirit.

“But I do blame you-“

“Tim, you hurt her-”

“AND YOU HAVENT?!”

Dick caught his Bo staff, which Tim had thrown right at him as swiftly as he turned around. His mouth was as dry as his palms were sweating. His teeth were close to breaking. And his eyes dangerously drifting off into some unknown nowhere just so he wouldn’t have to look at such betrayal.

“Tim-“

Tim was shaking, or at least his hands were, when he gave into his impulses and moved so fast, grabbing Dick by the collar and standing him down.

“You stand there blaming me for all that hurt when here you are-“

“What the hell do you want me to say to you?!”

He was strong, stronger than any one of them would have thought. Dick couldn’t even move, much less out of shock than it was out of his hold on him too overwhelming to counter.

“Tim, this isn’t like you-“

“You have no idea what I’ll do,” Tim growled. “Why do you think I became Red Robin?”

To separate himself from the likes of what it used to be. To not be Robin anymore. To stray away from his ideals, ideals and morals no longer his.

Because he was, in his truest capacity, capable of much darker things than people seem to know. Even his own brother.

“I hate you-“

Dick, who took that second to take advantage of weakness, grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him off with the soles of his feet, not enough to send him to the ground but enough to almost topple him. And when he looked up, immediately, Tim’s fist headed for his brother’s head, but again it was caught by Dick’s palm.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!”

A much deeper, louder voice, the third one to be heard that night. It was that, and two strong arms that grabbed Tim by the shoulder and Dick by his suit’s back. Even when it wasn’t even to much effect, they stopped.

At least, for a second they did, before Tim started for Dick’s neck and he had to be held back with a strong hand right against his chest. “Let me go!”

“What the hell is going on with you two!?”

“Stay out of this Jason!”

It was easier for Jason to stand right in between, just to stop either of them from going after their skin. Dick had stopped. Tim, on the other hand, had to be held back by the shoulders. “Tim, calm down!”

“I said stay out of this!”

.

Jason:

“One of you pinheads tell me what’s going on!”

“Are you really gonna let Jason fight your battles, Dick?!”

Tim tried to push Jason out of the way. He was lucky, in fact, that none of them could see the irate look on his face hidden behind the safety of a red helmet. Otherwise they might have started for him too, just at how disgusted he looked at them both. And he had every right to be. He knew exactly why they were fighting. It was the devil in him who felt like asking.

Jason held him back with his cape. “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF-“

“Let go of me!”

“You don’t think I wanna bash this asshole’s brains out everyday, Tim?!” Jason hauled him to the floor. “Trust me. You can hold back.”

“Oh, fuck you, Todd.”

“You shut up.” Jason pointed at Dick. “If this is about Y/N I know exactly why Tim wants you dead.”

“And why am I the one you two’re ganging up on?!”

“If I was, Dick, I’d just let this one have at it with you. Thank me later.” Jason said, nodding over at Tim. Tim shrugged off his brother’s hold on him and frowned.

“You were never the one to trust, Dick,” Tim gulped. And Jason knew Dick would have thought the same. His flaring eyes, the burn that was almost never there from someone so usually calm. It was unnerving seeing Tim this way. “Look at everyone you’ve hurt. Y/N. Kori. When are you going to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you little-“

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jason pushed Dick again with a shove of his hand. Dick stepped back.

“Jason, just get out of here -“

“I don’t know, man; Feels like I have to be the responsible one. For once.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and hauled him to the side so he could step closer to where Dick was standing. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

Jason, if not at all wanting that to be true in the slightest sense, didn’t fight back and took Tim’s shoving. But, as he’d thought, Dick was the one who looked at him so slyly he wanted to grab his lips and use them to haul him over the building.

Suddenly, every part of his skin wanted to burst, blood beating through every inch of vessel and flesh so much it burned him. His mouth sewed shut, ears hurting at the redness. Again, if not for the helmet, it would have been a dead giveaway.

But Dick wasn’t having it.

“Trust me, Tim. He already is.”

“What the hell do you mean-“

“I said, enough. You two settle this at home.”

Jason tried for Dick’s shoulder just to push him to back away, but he threw his hand off.

“Don’t fucking act like the good guy between the three of us,” Dick said. “What are you gonna say next? That this isn’t what Y/N would want?”

“You think it is?!”

Dick chortled and he turned away. Tim still wouldn’t let his glare away from his brother and if Jason would let him, he’d have mauled him to death.

“You always did think you knew what was best for her, didn’t you?”

“Jason, what the hell is he talking about?”

He never told him. The bastard never told Tim when he was so sure he would, when he basically told him that night outside Y/N’s doorstep that by the end of the hour, Tim would know what he’d done and he’d have found Jason by the next, even when he tries too hard to disappear, which he had tried to do for four months, hiding from his brother, and not long after he’ll never be welcomed into the manor as so much as a guest. It did surprise him, after many months, that Tim hadn’t so much as acknowledged it. Part of him wanted to believe Tim didn’t care, or had already forgiven Y/N and in turn forgiven him.

But, of course, Dick hadn’t told him. The asshole wanted this to drag out as painfully long as he possibly could. Make him carry that burden himself just because he thought it was right, as Tim’s brother, even when he wanted no part of those niceties.

“You wanna tell him?” The blue leotard wearing ass said. “Or should I?”

“Don’t fucking bring me into this shitshow-“

“Brother, you walked right into it yourself.”

“I will kill you,” Jason growled. “One of these days.”

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s voice, the softest it had been since the start of that night.

He shouldn’t.

His little brother, one whose relationship had proven far too difficult to build, if there was ever a chance at a good relationship at all. His brother. An established brotherhood he once despised so much, took too many years just for it to be something tolerable. His little brother.

He never had a little brother like Tim. Perhaps even now, he wouldn’t. Not once he knows.

“Tim, I-“

“Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Dick no longer even had that smirk on him. He just looked sad for the both of them, as he should be. As anyone should be.

“Just tell him.”

So much did his fist want to just fly and land straight at Grayson’s perfectly chiseled cheekbones, break his face so much he wouldn’t live to stand a day.

But Jason had grown too silent, too guilty.

He couldn’t even take off his helmet and look at either of them in the eye.

Tim stepped right in front of him and on his face kind of worry that often lingered prior to it being the worst rage to ever engulf into.

Was there a way out of this? To counter the impact? Make it so it didn’t hurt so much?

If Grayson had just told him, it wouldn’t have to be this way.

“Jason-“

He looked up, and through the slits of his visor, he knew Tim wanted to look at him in the eye, to find something out of this truth.

“I…”

His throat, it hurt to even breath. And when this happened, he usually takes the helmet off. This time, however, he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to say despite him not wanting to.

“I slept with her…”

It was a shame Dick didn’t look too much like an ass right then. If he did, he’d have a reason for himself to just jump at him with a knife. But all he could even see, all he could bring himself to watch, was his feet.

Nothing else. Not when Tim was looking at him that way.

“What?”

“I slept with her-“

Tim.

Was it even Tim anymore? The boy in front of him? Who never looked at him with so much betrayal?

“When?”

“A few months ago…” he said. “Lasted about a month.”

Then, it wouldn’t even have mattered if it were him who broke the news, the asshole that Dick was, or the Gotham Times.

Tim.

No longer his little brother. Never will be again.

Right for the neck. That’s where Tim pounced a second less than he was smart enough to move away.

 .

Dick:

That asshole deserved it.

But if anyone deserved it more than Jason did, it was Dick.

Was it to divert Tim’s attention from himself? Give him a breather and a while for Tim’s anger to mellow down taking it out on Jason so he doesn’t take it out on him so much? Possibly.

But the moment Tim’s hands squeezed the living daylights out of Jason’s neck, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was wrong. This was all wrong.

He started for Tim’s arms, grabbing them both just to at least give Jason enough time to breath, but this newfound strength certainly wasn’t one he’d expected. When he did manage to pull them off, Tim swung his fist right at Dick’s face.

Then, he went back for Jason, who then took that short time to grab both his fists and stop them for hurling him over the roof.

This was his fault. This was his doing.

And all the more did he want this to end when Jason held Tim strong enough to make him scream, and with that, he threw another punch right for his helmet, shattering the visor beneath his bruised knuckles. Jason tried to kick him away with his knee, but Tim was pushing him.

Jason, who should have been a lot stronger, was not doing much to fight Tim. And instead, he tried talking him out of it.

“Tim!” he coughed. Tim still holding both fists went on to push him. “Tim, stop!”

Head slam against his helmet, and it broke, enough for a part of it to be chipped off and expose his forehead.

Jason finally hurled Tim over to the ground just so he could wipe the blood stain off from seeping down his eyes, but that wasn’t much of a good idea. Not when Tim took that as a chance to jump for his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with the forces of their own bodies flying across the wind, the railing wasn’t enough to stop their fall.

Tim and Jason fell over the building, down fifty stories with one’s hands wrapped around the others throat, and Tim went on to strangle him even as they fell.

Dick, without even thinking much, dove into that same abyss. Did he have a plan? No. Was this going to work anyway? Probably not. But he had to try.

At least, it was all he had to do. When Dick leapt, head soaring straight down for a car so miniscule that wouldn’t be so small the more he wastes time, his brothers thrashing bodies that broke the speed of their fall worked to his sorry advantage and Dick managed to catch up.

He grabbed Tim off, thankfully with the fall lessening his grip but not at all did it change the murderous look on his face. This wasn’t his brother. This can't be him. This was someone who had all his frustrations bottled up in the form of coffee addiction, insomnia, and workaholic tendencies, someone who hadn’t vented out his hurt and anger at him, who he apparently had been hating for a while.

When he had him in his grasps, Dick grappled up to the next building. “Jason, hold on!”

It was, in actuality, the worst idea he’s ever come up with. Other than the fact that Tim weighed a good 170 pounds, Jason was no lighter. Not even in the slightest. And carrying both of them? He might as well be hauling up a whole tank.

That one single grappling hook showed them no appreciation despite it holding on the best it could. And it was to no help that the hook landed on a building too far.

They were just yards up the ground when the rope tightened, and the impact on Dick’s arm he was sure had the bone dislocated. A scream was all he could muster at the shooting pains that went all the way up his neck, but still, he held on, and even when it lasted no more than a few seconds, it was all too agonizing not to feel like it lasted hours.

All it took was to at least break the fall, but that was all he could handle. Dick let go of the grapple gun and they were falling across the whole block, across the street over to an abandoned lot with junkyard cars and probably some broken glass scattered across the ground.

Tim landed on top of one of the cars, breaking the windshield under his weight. Jason wasn’t so lucky, rolling across the cold cement with it hitting his helmet, enough to expose his face.

And Dick, with it not helping his arm at all, landed right against the fenced border and fell to the ground. Some wire sticking out might have impaled his skin.

He was breathing. Was he still breathing? There was throbbing. Redness. Blood that went to his eyes, most probably. He could hear his heart and basically the rest of his senses going haywire.

When he looked up, already Tim could stand, right on top of the cars.

Now lacking his Bo staff, Tim smashed the broken metal beneath his feet and pulled out a slab hard enough to break bones.

 .

Tim:

If Dick were smart, he should have let him die.

This was always how he was, how this was all going to boil down to. His so many ways of dealing with loss, heartbreak, and stress, it was never going to hold him back enough if he hadn’t an outlet. And this, tonight, this was all part of the inevitable. He did what he promised Y/N. He kept off the coffee and had eight hours of sleep every day. But did it mean it warded off his thoughts on her? On his brothers? On their betrayal and how much he’d been holding that all off for months? Not even close. In fact, they grew worse.

Who does he start with?

Dick was all the way over at the fence. Wounded. Dislocated arm. He pulled himself up and went for a wall he could smash his shoulder against just to pull back the bone.

And Jason.

Shit.

Should have went for him first.

Two glocks in his hands. This man wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

“Jason, don’t!” Dick cried. Too late. He already shot one of the cars.

Tim spun about just to dodge at least the shattered glass. He was aiming for his legs, at all the parts of his body that wouldn’t be so lethal. How kind of him.

Which meant, that if it were the vital parts of him exposed, Jason wouldn’t shoot.

So he didn’t even try to hide himself, his chest especially, when he hurled himself over the many car hoods and roofs. Jason kept going, and this time he went to shooting the glass on purpose. Probably to hit him with the shards.

Tim reached the wall and pushed his feet so he’d roll on the ground. Cape up, he looked through the many places to hide, but he didn’t want to hide. What he wanted was to grab one of them, any of them, by the shoulders, pin them to the ground, and have his fist have at it with their stupid faces.

He ran up to Jason, cape protecting his legs and arms, and just as he did Dick had crept up behind him, grabbing Jason by a headlock. Elbow to Dick’s chest, he took that as a chance to grab his guns and throw them over to the side. So close did he miss one of the bullets, if grazing his shoulder was ever a miss. But he ignored that hiss and landed a hit on Jason’s stomach.

But not even that could last long, with Jason practically subdued. Dick set Jason aside to block Tim’s fist from landing anywhere near either of them. He kept hitting, swinging, it was all a blur after the third time he felt his shoulders hurt. And Grayson’s was no better. So he aimed for it.

What was he doing?

Foot landing on Dick’s pelvis. It was enough for his body to skid across the ground. He looked up at his brother, teeth gritting so much that it hurt, Tim didn’t move fast enough before he could move away from Dick’s fist, which landed a good one right to his teeth.

 .

Jason:

This was the most ridiculous fight he’s ever been on. No different from a fucking pellet gun war over at the gardens that one time they were drunk and stupid. This was a game, one he really didn’t want to play. He should have known, and what he thought that time was that somehow, she was worth going through all this chaos for. That moment of bliss, that month of beauty and serenity and peace, was it worth this? With his own brothers?

It wouldn’t have been if it was just a month of beauty and serenity and peace. But it wasn’t just about that anymore, was it?

So this had to be worth it. In every way. With Dick and Tim over a few yards away, Dick holding his shoulder and trying so hard to avoid being hit there and Tim so unruly and angry and being so taken over with his rage, not at all was he anything like this before tonight.

He had the choice. To grab the gun that had skidded over to his side, shoot them both in the shoulder to put everything to a stop, or join in on their rumble to drag this out as long as inhumanely possible. Three different men who knew exactly what the others’ moves will be, this wasn’t going to last very long if it were to be a good way.

But, if this were to be dealt with bullets, he can say goodbye to either of them of ever being his brother again, to never be a part of this family so hard to love but love nevertheless.

He stopped his hand from reaching for the gun, and with that, he started for the two.

Jason grabbed Tim’s ankle just before it would have landed on Dick’s chin, threw him to the side so he’d land on the floor.

Dick’s fist, which would have hit Tim, instead hit Jason right at the nape of his neck. He almost toppled over to the ground, and with that flash of rage, he struck back at Dick right at his bad shoulder. Might have been too far. But he didn’t care.

Tim hit his back, right up against his sharp knee. He cried out at the unnerving bellows that went straight to his head, picked himself up just before he hit the ground.

Another hit for his head, but Dick had stopped it with his own hand, twisted Tim’s ankle so he’d once again lose his balance and fall.

Three different men.

Three different fights.

Three men who knew each other far too well to be beaten so easily.

They jostled and rolled about, around the junkyard over so many of the cars and the broken glass and even the fence that had long blown over. This wasn’t at all supposed to be what they’d spend the night on, but with the slabs of metal being thrown, the cars almost hurled up with their peak human strength, their limbs flailing, some barely missing a nerve on their head and some wrecking a whole tooth out of their mouth, it was not, to even some capacity, ever going to end as well as any of them hoped.

And with them at the middle of the barren empty grounds, Jason dodging Dick’s fist only to meet Tim’s knee, Dick being absolutely smothered by Tim’s head smashing against his, and Tim being pinned to the ground by either of his brothers larger than him that he hated so much.

It all would have ended in death, after the kind of blur that clouded so much of their moral thought and any kind of sense at all to remind them of what they were doing, if not for something far too strong for them to easily swerve from.

Or, better yet, three things too strong for them to swerve from.

At a whiff so quick for any of them to have possibly even sensed, a flash of purple was the first to wave off that blur from their eyes. And it went for Tim.

Stephanie was first to subdue him, holding Tim down with her knee landing right at the small of his back. He cried out both at the shock he hadn’t expected and the pulsing pain that probably went all the way up his spine, but he was done. Steph had grabbed Tim’s head and pinned him down right against the floor.

The next one was Dick, and before any of them could even turn, something so brightly blinding, a figure of yellow, fell from one of the cars’ hood and grabbed Dick by the neck. Duke was smaller, but not at all was that some disadvantage. His huge armored arms, locking Dick enough for him to just flail his hands about, it was enough to make him stop.

And, just as he expected, the next thing he saw after that flash of a second he was spared, was a blur of black so silently creeping up on him, Jason couldn’t move even when he knew it was coming. No one could have seen it. Not even him. By the next second, he was bent over one of the cars, hands to his back, and Cassandra had a taser stuck to his hip.

“NO, NO, NO, CASS DON’T-“

Barely enough to fry him unconscious, but enough to fucking electrocute his skin off so his muscles could barely move.

 .

Dick:

This should all have ended sooner than it even happened.

And the shame crept in, not even when he stopped struggling against Duke’s hold on him, but when Barbara, the last to come into the scene, flew in from the window right across.

She looked like she wanted to murder all three of them by a rope around their necks. One single rope. Having three just wouldn’t be worth it.

She took off her cowl and let her red hair fall to her back, so they’d easily see just how disgusted she looked at them all, at the look on her eyes, at the look on all their eyes.

“Duke, let me go-“

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Please.”

“If we could, Nightwing,” Babs swallowed. “I’ll have you tied to that streetlamp for the rest of the night.”

Jason tried to reach for something in the car just to kick Cass away, but she tased him again. Some smoke flew up from his flesh.

“Cass, that’s enough,” Babs said.

Cass glared at them all, then settled to just holding Jason down with his arms.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

“Maybe if you get your foot out of my head, Steph, I’d actually get my brain back and answer her question,” Tim said.

“You lost your brain when you fell down that building.”

“You saw that?”

Steph snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump in until I had all of us on call.”

“Lucky?!”

Steph twisted Tim’s arm and his cries could be heard over to the next block.

Jason tried, again, to break free from Cass’s hold, but her fist wasn’t one to welcome when it landed much like a bat would’ve right up against Jason’s head.

And Tim, who almost pried Steph’s knee from against his back, was just pinned down again not even a second after breaking free.

They were too tired to go up against any of them.

So Dick, knowing there was no other, prettier way out of this, let go of his hands from gripping too hard on Duke’s arm. He didn’t let go, but it had loosened, enough for him to properly talk. Babs went over to him. That dagger-infested glower stuck through, but at least there was some appreciation for his lack of resistance.

“It was a misunderstanding-“

“Was it?!”

Babs clenched her jaw.

“This is about her, isn’t it-“

Tim’s voice echoed. “No!”

.

Tim:

He growled and shoved Steph’s hand away, but they kept on his arms, pushing them down against his spine. She was strong enough to subdue him, stronger now that he was exhausted and his muscles were all strained, but that didn’t mean he was, in any way, going to back down from this fight. This wasn’t over.

He could crane his head up enough to look at Babs.

“This is about these two traitors who lied to my face for months!”

Steph was having too much trouble keeping him down. “Tim!”

“Are you really going to take their side?!”

“No one is taking anyone’s side here.”

Babs eyed Cass at least to make her loosen her grip on Jason’s twisted arms. Cass rolled her eyes, sighed, and still without a word, she grabbed Jason by the back of his collar to make him stand. But it wasn’t without her taser stuck up to his side.

“Cass, I’m not gonna fucking fight you-“

“Just shut up, Jay,” Dick said, and with that, Duke tightened his arm.

“They wanna know,” Tim panted. “Tell them all why we’re in this mess.”

His voice, all broken and rageful and so unlike what anyone would have thought. It turned the heads of everyone around. Steph loosened her hand around Tim’s neck much out of her own disbelief.

“Stabbing me in the back the way you did…”

“Tim, you don’t have to-“ Babs went on, but Tim’s screams were too much.

“Tell them! Say why you’re all a bunch of ass-“

“You’re the one who wanted this to be some shitshow!” Jason’s teeth shouldn’t last long with how much he was gritting them when he hissed and snarled at Cass, who poked the taser just beneath his hip.

“Cass, enough with the taser.”

“Yeah, Cass,” Jason said. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

“Some douchey police officer over at Chinatown,” Duke said to him while still keeping his hands on Dick.

Something so foreign, so unruly and aggressive, it was taking too much control over him. Tim’s eyes were burning, and there weren’t even any tears. His blood pulsed through every vein, strong enough for it to hurt, and loud enough for him to hear it through his bloodied ears.

Tim pushed Steph away and for a moment, he was free. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He just wanted his hands squeezing the voice out of Jason’s neck.

Babs grabbed him by the cape just as Steph caught up, and again he was on the floor. Still, he screamed, thrashed about because everything within him just yelled for him to finally let it out. He was done being the nice guy, done being the brother they both pushed around, took advantage of, lied to, and picked on because they knew he’d never fight back.

“Tim…” Babs helped Steph holding him down. She looked up at Dick. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing we can't sort out!”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason snorted. “You haven’t said one smart thing all day.”

“Like you're any better, you asswipe.”

“Enough!”

Babs stood right between them, otherwise they’d have lunged for each other even if they had a missile launcher aimed for their heads.

“Let me go. Duke,” Dick said. “I’m not gonna fight any of you-“

“Yeah, three seconds ago you were close to running Jason’s head through a windshield.”

“Just let me go and we’ll all calmly-“

“Calmly?” Duke laughed. “I saw you fall down that building from where I stood. None of you know what calm is.”

Duke’s voice was stern and not at all did he sound like he’d trust him enough for that, no different than Steph’s or even just the look in Cass’s eyes. Because, if anything, other than the utter disgust, disdain, and disappointment, everything before them was something not to easily believe.

Not long after, before anything even happened, before Tim heard that first trace of a large black cape and the heavy soles that would have broken the cement floor underneath if he hadn’t purposely landed so swiftly, with the shadow that wasn’t in fact a shadow, but a suit so terrifying, dark, and so close to invisible, it was the night in a physicality no two people could similarly describe.

Tim knew he’d get here first, before anyone else even turned their heads. Because he stopped with his cries and faced his untimely doom. Face to the ground, quiet and unmoving. Everyone else followed but that was after he’d already appeared.

Not even anyone from the likes of the worst villains had seen the look on Bruce’s face as close to the one he had right then.

 .

Jason:

If he were alone, he’d just have snorted. The look on Grayson and Drake’s face. Couldn’t be drawn.

He’s seen that same frown on Bruce every time he shoots a damn gun, which was every night. He could paint it by memory and he wouldn’t miss a detail. The squinted white of his eyeholes, his lips forlorn and flat. His hands, clenched enough for it to hurt, hidden beneath his cape. Oh, Dad. Did I do that?

These guys just needed some getting used to.

And he shouldn’t be amused at the fact that at least, for once, he wasn’t the only one in trouble this time. Tim looked ashamed. Dick looked like he’d seen a ghost. Dick should have known this, at least. He’s steered up a few times of trouble himself. Nothing like what he’s done, that’s for sure. But he shouldn’t be so stricken. Still, he was, which made it all the more inappropriate if he were to smirk right then.

Damian was right beside him. He wasn’t entertained, or intrigued, what he usually was watching his father tell off his brothers. In fact, he looked bothered. Like they’d just taken so much of his time away from what he’d rather be doing, which apparently was more interesting than this.

Ah. Of course. An out-of-town mission. Just Batman and Robin. They left Babs in charge. Probably why she looked just as horrified as Dick, hands to her side and keeping the slight shake of her palms hidden. It seems she prepared for anything to happen on patrol that night, anything Bruce prepared her for being the boss. What they hadn’t prepared for, apparently, was them.

“Batman, I-“ Babs swallowed. “We have this under control. You can go back to-“

“Let them go.”

Chills down everyone’s wobbly spines at his growling voice proved more terrifying under the filter near his neck. Everyone except Jason, of course. But he can't be so relaxed. Cass was getting suspicious. He just felt her hands tighten even more around his wrists.

But perhaps, he should be afraid. He’s gotten into mounds of trouble, but it was never anything like this.

He snorted again. They hadn’t hurt anybody. It was just them three and their lack of brain. They’ll be fine.

He hoped.

“Bruce, they’re trying to kill each other-“

“They can try.”

Babs, right then, might be the one to kill them right after. Maybe with her bare hands. Maybe with a truck. With a deathly, silent scowl at all of them, she nodded.

Duke was first to let go of Dick, and with that a pat on the back. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, stayed put and didn’t even step away. He was relaxed. Ashamed, but relaxed. He just stretched out his limbs and already everyone was satisfied.

Next, it was Jason. With a reluctant Cass finally letting him go, and the taser, Jason tumbled over to the nearest car hood just to keep himself up. That fucking taser robbed him of his knees. How many volts was that thing?

Finally, Steph swung her legs over from holding down Tim’s body and helped him up. She dusted off his back, apologized under her breath. He probably had a lot to say if it weren’t for the seven other pairs of eyes on him, watching him from letting out so much as a twitch.

Tim didn’t shove her away so he could go back to poking Jason’s eyeballs out. He just stood there and stared at him like Jason and Dick were lucky everyone else was around. Which, he probably was. He wasn’t going to deny that.

The last people to be so afraid of Bruce were the three of them, the perpetrators, the reason for this little reunion. So instead of letting out something so cocky and unapologetic, something so at the borders of causing Bruce to have an aneurysm, not one mouth resisted from being kept shut. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t often expected from such an unusual family.

And Bruce looked at the three of them not with anger, or dismay, or even annoyance.

He looked disappointed.

Which, arguably, makes it a whole lot worse. Hell, even for him. He’s been yelled at since the day he came back and all of a sudden a little fight with his brothers is what brings him to shame.

Bruce was unmoving, so his voice startled and shook.

“All this…” he said. “For her…”

No one spoke. Not even a cricket. Even with the horns and sirens from afar, the bustle they couldn’t care less the only noise there was, it was deafening.

“Don’t you think you’ve disappointed her enough?”

Jason ignored the shattered edges of his helmet that poked on his cheek, ignored the blood it drew or the strain on his arms. Everyone did, perhaps.

“Go back to patrol.”

Batman left, as quickly as he’d come. Robin followed right behind him.

Batgirl turned around, nodded at her team, which was all there was out of her, out of anybody. They could see her fists clench, her eyes down and avoiding the others. The Signal flew out of the scene, Spoiler grappled up to the next rooftop, and Orphan disappeared out of thin air, without a word or even a grunt.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood left that junkyard lot, and as the brothers they were, and dreadfully still are, they kept out of each other’s ways for the rest of that quiet night.

-----

What was so different about that night, and the many more nights that followed, was how they no longer had each other to turn to, even more now that it seemed they needed their brothers the most. Jason was, in the worst sense, used to the kind of isolation he was forced into after the matter. Dick had to learn to be alone, but it always had been better to have another’s shoulder to lean on and talk to. Tim, not so much. Not when he almost always turned to Y/N. And if not her, Dick. His older brother. One he once looked up to like a being unreachable, now a traitor he’d scoff at if he dared to show up.

So what they did, and what they were forced to do for several nights, was to deal with the cosmos and the whirlwind of thoughts all by their sorry selves. Dick usually could be found in training, spinning about in the uneven bars set up for him at the manor, have the sweat and the strain in his muscles force out whatever it was that bothered him into some physical outlet, how it often had been for many years as he appreciated himself for the care it brought. For the others, however, it wasn’t so much the same. Tim would spend all hours in the office and wouldn’t so much as nap even when his whole body tortured him to at least stop his back from being crouched so much. And Jason, well, had already drowned himself in booze, even more now that the reasons had faded clearer.

Alone in his apartment, over at the nook by the window where he usually spent the day with a book, now his mess of a hair would be plastered against the cold glass and the many bottles that surround him would block the surfaces of the cushion. It never actually got out of hand. He only ever drank to get rid of that noise blaring into his ear the way it was now, the way it was for all three of them.

And Tim couldn’t turn to that same comfort, or whatever it was that caffeine, stinging eyelids, and an unhealthy staring into a computer screen with an all nighter at the office would bring him. That night after the fight, he couldn’t sleep, even when he tried to. Which led to no one’s knowing, a cup of coffee when the day had risen and he was forced to go on with that said day like nothing happened. That cup would turn to two. Three. Eventually it dawned on him that he’d slept what he should have in a single day in a span of three.

Dick’s training, as it turned out, wasn’t so healthy at all. The strain in his wrists began a little over two hours ago. He’d been at the grounds for quadruple that time. For that day alone. Would it kill him if he didn’t stop? Probably not. Would it almost kill him? Probably. But he went on. Kept his hands busy. Forced himself to feel that exhaustion that should be taking his mind out of everything and not amplify it.

But this was only the beginning of what eventually would be that highway to descent, to some slope with no ladder to climb back up to, no guide for them to reverse and no light at the end that would eventually bring some alternative to the truth. They only had the truth to hold on.

Their brotherhood. One so strained. So complicated. One that took far too much time to build and rebuild. They couldn’t, not even if they wanted to, be apart from this family, deny that they were a part of it. They couldn’t escape each other’s presence no matter how many times they’d change their numbers or block out their trackers or find another city to live in. They couldn’t lose something that had grown too strong for them to fight against. That night, they tried. Or rather, the forces tried. The forces run by their bitter rivalry or the want for the same woman.

It was the fifth night after that fight, when Dick let go of the bars, finally giving his hands that rest too many hours overdue. He wiped his sweat, drank from his bottle, and pulled out his phone. That night, he thought it was enough, that this silence and bitterness and sheer negligence over their bond would eventually break for permanence. He knew that this coping was only just the beginning, and that it will, for everything he was certain about, would it become so much more, something so dark, that it would pull the whole family apart. He didn’t want that. For any of them. So that night, he sent a text to Tim and Jason.

Tim’s first account wasn’t on his brothers, though it had crossed his mind many more times than he would have hoped. His first thought, if anything, was how Y/N would have thought if he let himself fall. It’d be in his rule this time, that he wouldn’t let the caffeine get to him or reach to such extremes he’d never otherwise control. But Y/N wasn’t going to believe that, as nobody should. Hell, he probably shouldn’t place that much faith onto himself at all. Even if he does so much as lose an hour of sleep, one for every night until there wasn’t any hours left, if he allows himself one more cup when he had one just half an hour before, he knew it’d be just the beginning.

So, when he got that text from Dick, he realized it wasn’t worth much the risk.

He hated them both like he’s hated no one else, wanted them to realize just how much of a wreck their doings have imprinted on him and Y/N, how the consequences that followed weren’t nearly what they deserved at all. But if he doesn’t fight that hate, if he doesn’t find peace, it’ll be that darkness for him, that same life he hadn’t learned to control, one where he once lost himself to. and in turn, made him lose Y/N. And he’ll lose her again if he won't listen to that conscience. He texted Dick back and told him to meet him at Pauli’s.

Jason, on the other hand, acted as was expected of him. When he saw that text the first thing his lack of conscience told him was to get another phone and forget it all happened, disappear for another few months, show up when it was convenient, and hope that this all blows over before his escapism backfires.

But he never did get to bring himself to throw out his phone and get a new one, much less delete the text before he’s even seen it. A few days after, he let that daft little voice in him to open the text, allow himself a few seconds just to witness its premise. But he’d read through everything in that split second he allowed himself to. Dick didn’t really have much to say. And what else was to come next other than the few days of tussling and fighting and the many more bottles of booze that were not at all helping with those same voices that just wouldn’t shut up.

Was this all worth it? Was anything worth this at all?

Because those few years it took just to have any sort of a conversation with Dick, much more with Tim, certainly wasn’t a few years of a bond rebuilt that he wanted to go through again.

He loved them. In his own, twisted little way. He loved his brothers and actually would go out his way to save them from whatever horrors he’d been forced to face. That love didn’t have to be from occasionally hanging out in the holidays or spent an hour or two in a bar.

At least, in his conscience, if he were to die one day like he’d realize would happen again, knowing life wasn’t exactly his alone to spend and control, he’d know he did whatever was best for the people he loved.

So, despite Dick and Tim not at all expecting so much as a text back, they still had it in them to wait a few hours. In that dimly lit corner of Pauli’s, the aroma of freshly backed pancakes distracting them from their otherwise bland pickup from the rest of their senses. They waited, not hoping for the best.

Jason went into the diner and saw them, ordered a cup, then took a seat across Tim, with Dick in between.

That silence, the same for everyday for the past five, it was haunting and eerie, disturbing, uncomforting, one they knew they’d all have to settle if they wanted to move on and actually bring some light into whatever it was they’ve caused.

Jason didn’t take off his hoodie. Tim warmed his hands with his cup of hot chocolate. And Dick, knowing he’d have to start, cleared his throat and looked up.

.

Dick:

Seeing Tim walk through that door was a surprise enough, much more Jason coming along and not even was he three hours late. Fuck. Fuck. What does he even say? Where does he ever start? Should he even start?

Giving in to his impulses certainly was bad an idea. This was, in every way, what he should have expected when he picked up his phone and thought to call his brothers hoping it was the right thing to do. And, perhaps, it was the right thing.

But was he the right person to start it? Lead this conversation to the direction he wanted so they’d get to a better place? The one that pushed his impulses in the first place?

They were all too awfully silent. Tim’s had his second round of hot chocolate. He doesn’t even like hot chocolate that much. And Jason looks like he’s hiding himself from the cops with his hood down and neck craned to the table’s surface. He’s never been in anything more awkward and uncomfortable in his years. This was just humiliating.

But, he was sure, humiliation should be the first thing they’d have to go through. Setting their prides aside, talk with the other’s stories in mind and hope that by the end of this, it’ll at least be a bit better.

So he started, in the most bland, uneventful way, he tells them both.

“Thanks for coming,” Dick said.

Tim momentarily bit onto his lip, and Jason stayed motionless without so much as a nod. At least Tim glanced over at him, even when it was just a second.

“How are you, Tim?”

Tim’s finger traced over the brim of his cup. He’s finished it. Didn’t seem like he wanted to order another one.

“Alright. I guess.”

“Good. Jason?”

God, this was awful. He doesn’t even ask how their broken bones are healing after a life-threatening encounter in patrol. Hopefully this greyness wasn’t too weird, not when it should be the start of something even more difficult to overcome.

Jason’s order of coffee came into the table and it made Tim shift in his seat, leaning to the back to stay further away from its aroma. Jason took a sip. “Fine.”

As quiet as they possibly could. Dick wished he had something to order, even when it was just a piece of pie they’d displayed over at the counter. But he didn’t want to get up or even call a waitress.

He was, in the most obvious sense, ashamed. Ashamed that he wasn’t either of them, which he wished nothing more to be. He wished he was them so he wouldn’t have to be the man who’d hurt Y/N the most, when he was supposed to be who she’d turn for comfort, because they weren’t the man who’d been in love with her for so long, never thinking he’d have a chance. And when he did finally have her, even for a just a moment, when he finally got to kiss her that one time he’d been waiting for so many years, it all broke down and nearly diminished what he took years to build. Their friendship. Something so great yet so fragile, when their love never could be so easily set aside to make way for a friendly bond.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, and his voice had gone softer. “I’m sorry I started a fight. And for being so angry. That was uncalled for.”

He did want all this to be right with them. Both of them. Two of his brothers he’s learned to love. And with that love comes many sacrifices.

“You don’t have to be sorry for being angry.”

“Would you like more hot cocoa?” The waitress came in with a pitcher. Tim declined, and she left.

He stared at the empty cup and rolled his lips.

“Yeah, I… I kinda do.”

Further into the day, the less people there were in the diner. And with that came more silence. There were half the people in there than when they’d first arrived. Soon enough, they’ll be the only ones left.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Then, without even a word, Dick and Tim turned over to Jason.

They didn’t expect him to apologize, or even say anything for that matter, possibly for the rest of the night.

But Jason shrugged, looked up at both of them in the eye, and he nodded. It was enough for them both to know what he meant.

.

Jason:

Get this over with. As quick as they possibly could. But he should know by now that this was going to take time. With how difficult it was. This wasn’t going to end any better than when they’d started if they rush through.

Jason took a sip out of his coffee and leaned his arms over on the table. Still, he didn’t take off his hoodie, as if he was going to take off not long from then.

“I don’t exactly know where to start,” Dick said. “But I think we should put this out there now.”

Neither of them looked him in the eye. He and Tim both stared at their cups as if it were any interesting.

“I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I’m just saying what I think is best.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. “Just go on.”

This was harder than when they had to help out the League face Brainiac. And that certainly was something.

“I love Y/N.”

Okay. Wasn’t what he thought Dick would say. But okay.

“Tim loves her, too.”

Shit. Alright. So that’s what this motherfucker thinks he’s doing.

“And I for sure as hell know, that you love her as well, Jason-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s voice was deep, controlled, and as monotonous as he forced it to be. Without a flick of a lie or a speck of truth, as they both would have easily picked up if they listened to him hard enough. That is, if it worked. Which it probably hadn’t.

“We don’t know who she wants…” Dick said. “And frankly, I don’t think she does, too. At least for now.”

“It could be any of us.” Tim didn’t take his sight away from the blankness of the white table’s surface.

He can't take this. No. He never should have opened that text. This was a bad idea.

Y/N will choose one of them. Not him. Not when he was the one who fell in love with her far too late, realized just how perfectly imperfect and how she managed to be this little bundle of happiness for him that he never could find in another. Someone whose presence he yearned for on the days when he thought nothing could be okay. He realized all that when too late, when his brothers already cemented their places and have already gone out of their way to win her love. And, on top of all that, he was the one he didn’t have a close friendship as a ground for something to lean onto. They weren’t close. Not like she was with Tim. Not even with Dick.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason stood up from his seat with his cup half finished. “I’m leaving.”

“Jason-“

“Dick, I want no part of this-“

“You can deny it all you want, but what if she chooses you?”

“She won't choose me. That’s the point-“

“Everyone knows that’s just as much of a possibility than everything else. It didn’t even take much time, and already you’ve wooed her. You think we didn’t notice that?”

Jason stopped and faced the counter, away from his brothers.

“Just sit down.”

“Dick-“

“I know this hurts but what if she actually does choose you-“

“I don’t love her.”

“You do. And she might love you back.”

No. Don’t bring his hopes up like this. This fucking-

“And if she does, are you really going to turn her down?”

Jason closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

“No matter what Tim and I do, if it’s you she wants, then it’s you who’ll make her happy. Do you honestly think I believe you won't at least take that chance?”

Nothing. No voices whispering into his conscience to fuck everything and leave. Nothing that told him what to do, much less what to say.

He just knew that whatever he was, it wasn’t nearly as strong as that one pull that forced him back on his seat.

This shitshow already hurts as it is. What’s a little more?

.

Tim:

There’s a chance for all of them.

That’s what has always been so hard for him to understand. Never would he have thought it to be true, but it was.

They were both good men, good people, and if he were honest, he’d admit to Y/N being lucky if she were ever to choose one of his brothers in the end. He never, ever wanted to admit that. Not even now.

But for so long, he’s ignored the fact that those choices might be for her happiness, for what she deserves, and that might not always be about Tim. That whatever it was he wouldn’t admit to himself didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Y/N smiles like no other with Dick and no one else understood her like Jason. Even if Tim were her best friend, even if they had together from the very beginning, even if he probably loved her the most. It won't be about that.

So he has to accept all this.

And if it meant her happiness, then that hurt will be a lot easier to deal with.

“He’s right,” he said, and his two older brothers looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought you two… Well, I wish I was in your place. Not always. But, right now I do.”

They were confused to say the least. They didn’t look like they understood. Tim was the one who got to be with her, had years of calling her his love, had her love in return and have her actually show it the same way he did.

But that was just that. He had her. And now he didn’t. Because of him. Because he had her and was stupid enough to let her go, something neither of his brothers would have done if they were him.

And he wanted to laugh at the looks of both their faces. They didn’t have to say anything at all, but he understood. They envied each other in so many other ways, too complicated to map out. Because they’ve all done their own grievances, done so much that they regret.

Which is why this had to happen. Because no one knew what was going to happen next.

“I know it’s hard for all of us…” Dick said. Tim stared out at the window to see the start of the cold evening. “But we’re brothers. I don’t know about you both, but I don’t want this to tear us all apart.”

It already did, he wanted to say.

But it might not be true. It might not be too late. This brotherhood could still be salvaged. And in a way, it might be worth all that hurt.

“The last few weeks have been hard… for all of us… taken its toll on the rest of the family. And we’ve worked too hard on each other. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t want to lose Y/N, but I don’t want to lose both of you either.”

It was easier for him to shut his eyes closed.

Neither do I, Tim thought.

“But… Y/N deserves to be happy… We’ve put her through too much.

“And if it means being with the one she loves, one of us, then so be it. We’re done making her decisions. We don’t decide between the three of us. If she wants to choose, then she gets to choose. And we won't have a say in any of it. She decides if it’s one or none of us at all. She deserves this.”

Jason finished his coffee. He no longer sat so stiff.

Tim sat back on his chair and stared out the window.

“And whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. As brothers. We’ll have each other. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

That cold night of late November had the first snowdrop of the year. It was light, subtle, and one would have missed it if they weren’t looking out for too long. But they saw it, and never had something so gentle calm what used to be this rageful storm, not since Y/N.

They hadn’t spoken another word in that diner. But for many hours, they stayed.

They continued to wait for many months. They were patient.

October. November. December. January passed.

And on that day of the second week of February, a day Y/N once loved and hated at different times, they put an end to that waiting.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

 A/N: I honestly can’t wait for the finale. AHHHH

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish​​, @wunderstell​​, @birdy-bat-writes​​, @multifandomgirl-us​​, @icequeen208​​, @offendedfishnoises​​, @arkhamtoddler​​, @elsenthal​​, @lucy-roo​​,  @loxbbg​​, @reclusive-chicken-nugget​​, @l-inkage​​, @http-cherries​​, @river9noble​​, @zphilophobiaz​​, @annoylinglyaries​​, @knightfall05x​​, @hyp-oh-critical​​, @satan-s-ass​​, @1-800-starmora​​, @flowersgirl02​, @nahcho​​, @thatonecroc​​​, @trixie-bb​​​, @daddyissuesmademe​​​, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies​​ @jaybirdbooty​​​ @writing2sirvive​​​

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[beesmygod]

THE NATIONAL FILM REGISTRY’S 2020 ENTRIES

people who know me know i have a particular interest in the national film registry, the library of congress’ special collection of films they have deemed "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant“. to be clear this is not an oscars or an award ceremony of any sort, though it is an honor in to be selected. it is a preservation program; the purpose of this is to make sure these films are passed down through time as examples of the american experience or as examples of american art/history by the "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant” metric. for me, this is a far more interesting starting point of casually reviewing films and there is a morbid curiosity what the faceless entity that is “the library of congress” (to me, an ape) deems important, american style.

great news! the 2020 additions have arrived! and they’re weird! included are a mix of modern classics that everyone recognizes as well as a vast plethora of film created well before 1940. i recognize a few of them. as will you! here are some of them and why i think they are here:

the blues brothers: self explanatory to anyone who has seen it but to anyone who hasn’t, its a tour de force comedy whirlwind adventure starring SNL (back when it starred actual comedians who went on to do things) kings dan akroyd and john belushi and featuring performances by some of the most unbelievable and spectacular musical talent of all time. a love letter to the blues, comedy and fun.

a clockwork orange: a viscerally unpleasant film by one of the best filmmakers of the modern era, this isn’t a film that needs to be seen by everyone. like, this isn’t one of those “gotta see it” films because it’s highly upsetting and most people are going to find it terrible and vile for the sake of it because it is. this is a film that makes for a perfect example of the above definitions provided:  "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant“. i am withholding judgment calls on the content within the movie (ha ha! you will have to use context clues regarding what you know about me to determine how i feel like a normal person!!), kubrick was pressing his finger to the pulse of the american audience of the 1970s and i don’t think any picture outside of a slasher film reflected that more than this movie.

as much as i dont want to, given the state of the world. i wonder what it would be like to revisit this movie in 2020.

the dark knight: lol

grease: an idealized musical about the 1950s from 1978, but one of the most prominent cultural touchstones that has transcended generations. it’s campy, it’s artificial, and it’s another one that might strike a little too close to the ideals held close by the audiences of the 1970s. but there’s an undeniable charm brought to the table by travolta (who at this point was still bringing his signature swagger and charisma to each of his roles) and newton-john (who is really, truly a delight as the believably innocent sandy).  "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant“? yes.

the hurt locker:  i have no idea. my ass is a little chapped about this one. what the fuck.

lilies of the field: a beautiful and gentle film about a man, some german nuns and god. sidney potier became the first african american to win an academy award for best actor for his performance as homer smith, the kind samaritan who comes to understand the goodness of god is in the milk of human kindness. this is an easy to swallow film; there is no romance, no danger. there is only the steady upward gaze of a man turning heavenward. this all sounds very preachy and religious, and while there are dueling bible quotes and the catholic aspect of the movie is an important plot lynchpin, the thrust of the movie is cultivating love is labor, much like a garden or building a church.

shrek: yeah laugh it up, but besides being one of the earliest CGI movies to break a block, it was also one of the biggest animated movies to kick the rat in the dick and give disney a little run for their money. up until dreamworks came along, animated movies were either XXX ralph bakshi affairs (okay, “wizards” isnt that nasty but you know) or very, very safe disney properties (which were great...but...they were...all that we really had except for the one bad movie don bluth would cough up once every 2 years or so). shrek was finally something with a little bit of an edge that directly stuck a pin in between disney’s ribs. plus...can you deny the cultural significance it has even today? i dare, you bitch.

want to nominate something to the registry next year? click here and fill out the form!

[machinesuper]

The black mirror batman

And now Wayne is back but doing something else. Also, apparently Wayne’s son from Son of the Demon (which I did read back when it was released) is Robin now - or maybe was Robin because he doesn’t appear in The Black Mirror. I believe Identity Crisis was about to begin when I last entered a comic book store on a Wednesday, but since then I’ve been tangentially aware that somewhere along the line Bruce Wayne “died” (comic book scare quotes in full effect) and Dick Grayson took over in his place. As well, though I’m not a regular reader, I am familiar with some of the changes to the title over the last several years. I’m familiar with Batman and his mythos but I don’t read his books save for special occasions - books or stories that come highly recommended or hyped. It’s not the salvation of the genre and it does stumble awkwardly in places, but simultaneously, it does get some things right and those things are worth the time of the superhero enthusiast.Īt this point, I should mention that the caveats from Batwoman apply here as well. And in some ways, The Black Mirror vindicates his sentiment. He’s proven himself to have great taste in the past and it was on his recommendation that I gave Big Questions a shot against a warehouse of reservations and came out quite pleased.

Book critic Dan Goodman, knowing my reluctance to heartily endorse the superhero genre, gave the book a pretty nice recommendation and said he thought it was one of the best examples of the genre in years (I’m paraphrasing from memory here, but I think I’m doing him justice). I mean, think how many enemies I’ve made by saying that Batwoman: Elegy was mostly awful and that All-Star Superman fell flat to me partly because Frank Quitely’s people drive me crazy.) So my general rule for this sort of thing is that I won’t review a superhero book unless 1) I really found something special in it (and I really need to do more of this) or 2) the book was recommended to me. On average, even the better books will only be able to rate an OK rating by the measures I use. And that’s why, for the most part, I don’t really review a lot of superhero books. Sometimes we just want to turn our brains off and take in an unbelievable story. I read and loved The Hunger Games, even though it wasn’t anything particularly special. We don’t expect romance novels or westerns or Elizabeth George mysteries to be Remains of the Day or Cloud Atlas. There are Good books that find themselves nestled in the genre that has been Marvel and DC’s bread and butter since the ‘60s, but they’re rare and all the more special for it.Īnd that’s fine.

Rather, the problem is that so much of superhero fiction doesn’t actually succeed. It’s not that a superhero story can’t succeed and rank among the best of the medium that would be like saying The Long Goodbye isn’t great American literature. Because there are standards of good storytelling that sort of just exist over and above genre concerns, I’m not often kind (or perhaps better: generous) to superhero fiction. The same awkwardness exists here on Good Ok Bad. But we shouldn’t expect a neck-and-neck race. Certainly, a critic might make note of Twilight's purpose and express some evaluation of how well it succeeds on its own terms. On a site that reviewed both books side-by-side, we’d expect reviewers to use at least most of the inches on the same yardstick to measure out their respective values. While it may seem unfair to compare the two books, one is entertaining trash and the other is awestriking and thoughtfully composed (at least according to most everyone who’s read it and isn’t thirteen). See? They’re both great because they both succeed within their unique contexts! After all, how far could you trust someone who rated Twilight and Brothers Karamazov as being Great Books because Twilight succeeds at its goal of being a mindless-but-amusing supernatural romance/thriller and Brothers Karamazov succeeds at its goal of being kick-ass, world-class literature that people will be talking about for hundreds of years or more. I try to extend some graces to the contexts in which these books operate, but completely divorcing genres from the general expectations of the medium would perpetrate some pretty wild discrepancies. One of the weird things about this site is that I rate genre books alongside, quote-unquote, more serious fare.

[pastorpresent]

He felt stupid.

That was the only thing that came to mind as Sam stared at himself in the mirror, donning the stupid lingerie he had bought.

Dean had practically drooled over the model wearing it, all long tanned legs and blonde hair and big boobs on the front of the Victoria secret catalogue, hearts splayed around the cover with the tag line surprise him this valentine...

And of course Sam knew he wouldn't look anything like her in it even after he shaved his body and put on the drugstore mascara and lipstick but he hadn't expected to look so damn awful.

He looked fucking hideous. The lace flowed wrong at the skirt piece, and the top area just sort of sagged weirdly because he had nothing to fill it.

He looked really bad, and Dean was going to laugh at him. His eyes welled with tears and he tore them from the mirror, ready to start changing back into his normal clothes when the motel door clicked open.

Shitshitshit!

"Sammy-" Dean's words died in his throat, eyes widening as he stared.

Sam wanted to shrivel up and die, wanted the ground to swallow him up. But neither were going to happen so he settled for rushing to the small bathroom and locking the door.

"Sam? Sammy, hey. What's wrong?" Dean's voice was dripping with concern as he knocked on the bathroom door.

Sam curled in on himself, tucked up between the bath and the sink on the questionable motel floor. Of course Dean pitied him, probably felt bad on his behalf for what an absolute disaster he looked.

"Sammy?"

"G'way Dean" Sam sniffled, tears flowing down his cheeks freely.

"Why? Tell me what's up. I'm getting some whiplash here. One minute you're standing in the middle of the motel in lingerie and the next you're locking yourself in the bathroom."

"I- I just don't want you to see me in... in this" he spat, glaring down at the garment as more tears fell and smudged his mascara.

There was a silence that stretched over a few seconds, and then Dean spoke up again.

"I mean, I was enjoying the view before you ran off."

Sam scoffed.

"You don't need to lie, I know I look like shit. She looks so good in it and I look like a freak..." Sam breathed, curling further in on himself and resting his head in his bare knees.

"Sammy, just open the door, ok? Please?"

"You'll just laugh or... or run for the hills." Sam muttered, and he could hear Dean sigh, twisting the knob experimentally but getting no where.

"I promise I won't. I swear, please just unlock the door" Dean continued and Sam finally sucked in a breath, rising from his cramped hiding spot.

He couldn't really hide away in here all night anyway, and despite what a disaster this was he still didn't want to spend valentines day crying on a filthy bathroom floor.

He chewed his lip, straightened out the lace a little and opened the door up.

He didn't meet Dean's eyes for a few moments until he realised his brother wasn't speaking. He finally forced himself to lift his head, mentally preparing for inevitable disgust, except...

Dean didn't look disgusted. His jaw was hanging open slightly, his pupils blown. He looked surprised, but not in a bad way.

"Wha'dya think?" Sam asked slightly awkwardly, lifting the sides of the flowing fabric before dropping it back unceremoniously.

"God, Sammy... you look fucking amazing" Dean breathed, and Sam felt his cheeks heat up.

"You promise? Like, really actually promise? If you hate it you can tell me and I can change-"

Suddenly he was being pushed up against the wall, Dean pressed against him with his rough hands sneaking up his body beneath the delicate fabric.

"Don't you dare."

The growl went straight to Sam's dick and he gasped as Dean began assaulting his neck and jaw with bites and kisses.

"You look so fucking beautiful. So sexy Sammy, it's unbelievable. And to think you're wearing it all for me? God, baby" Dean spoke the assurance like a promise, punctuating the words with a lock of their lips.

Sam was breathless when they finally parted, body flushed and leg slung over Dean's hip.

"I think if I don't fuck you in this right now I might die" Dean said with more seriousness than he could even muster for a hunt, and Sam felt heat rising on his cheeks and laughter bubbling in his throat.

"Feel free" he murmured with a grin, and Dean had him on the bed before Sam could say anything else.

[beelsnack]

The Obey Me! Boys and How They Cuddle

Because this quarantine got me touch-starved.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slight NSFW warning for Asmo.

Lucifer: He could feel his heartbeat in his forehead as he reclined (not slouched, he would never slouch) against the back of his chair. He had at least three different reports to write for Diavolo, the ever-growing stack of bills addressed to Mammon was beginning to lean alarmingly to the left, and he had just received word that one of his brothers had broken a stained-glass window at RAD. Again.

The sound of his door creaking open startled him out of his brooding. He whipped around with a scowl already set in place, but his expression soften when he registered the human standing there. They were carrying a tray in their hands, which were wrapped carefully in the sleeves of their shirt to stave off the chill of the Devildom evenings.

“You missed dinner,” they set the tray down on the edge of his desk, away from all of the important documents. “I was worried the others were going to start a riot.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. On top of the pounding in his head, he was beginning to feel the muscle in his neck tensing from being bent over writing for the majority of the day. Great, now his responsibilities were becoming a literal pain in the neck instead of just a figurative one.

“Lucifer?” concern laced through their voice as they spoke. “Are you okay?”

Their hands were still planted on the desk where they had set the tray down, eyes trained on him like they were worried he would explode. This left them wide open, and Lucifer was nothing if not opportunistic.

“Come here.”

The human yelped as he gripped them around the waist and easily hoisted them into his lap. Their legs dangled uselessly over one arm of the chair and Lucifer had pressed their torso against his own. He kept them close, encasing them in his arms as he rested his cheek on top of their head.

“Lucifer!” they attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but both of them knew it would do nothing. “I’m not a teddy bear!”

“Oh? But the job suits you perfectly.”

They huffed petulantly, but instead of pouting, they wrapped their arms around his neck and accepted their fate. “Just ask next time, okay?”

Mammon: “...stupid lil’...why do they hafta...treat their older brother with at least a lil’ respect!”

The door to the living room burst open, causing the human sitting on the couch to jump and quickly whip their headphones out. Mammon definitely didn’t get a little mushy when he noticed their expression go from on guard to exasperatedly fond.

“What happened now?”

The Avatar of Greed flopped unceremoniously onto the couch next to them and sighed dramatically. “Why do they always gotta gang up on me?!”

“Because it’s funny to watch you explode?”

“Not helping, human.”

They started to laugh, but when they saw Mammon slouch down a little further, they cut themselves off. “Does it really get to you that much?”

“Sometimes,” Mammon scratched at his neck. “Even when I’m trying to help, they start taking jabs at me for no reason.”

The human was silent for a moment before they shoved the worksheet they had been scribbling away at into their textbook and closed it. “That’s not right.”

“You’re damn right it ain’t! I’m a good big brother, and every time I -” a light tug on his hair cut him off mid-rant. The human had scooted down to the end of the couch and was looking at him expectantly. When had they grabbed a hold of his hair?

His human was nothing if not persistent, and who was he to deny them? He followed their tugs down to rest his head in their lap, stretching out his long legs. Their gentle fingers kept weaving and scritching in his hair, and his eyes slipped closed like a content kitten.

“You know the best ways to shut me up.”

“Mmhmm.”

Levi: When he had told them what time the stream was going to start, they had grinned and said staying up that late wasn’t going to be a problem. They had high-fived and the human had skipped off to do whatever it was normies did during the day. When 10 o’clock rolled around, they showed up to his room practically buzzing with excitement. It had been forever since they had gotten to watch a live stream with someone!

They had been so jazzed. So why in the three Realms were they asleep?!

And more importantly, why were they asleep on his shoulder?!?!

Levi could feel himself start to hyperventilate. He barely let his brothers touch him, forget about the human! The streamer had said something that was making the chat go a mile a minute, but Levi couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on anything but the weight on his shoulder.

Swallowing heavily, he managed to gather up enough courage to actually look at the human.They were small and fragile looking when they were awake and yelling at everyone, but when they were asleep, they might as well be a figurine. Their face was relaxed, so different from the victorious grin they wore when they thrashed Mammon in a game, or the determined frown they wore when Devildom culture shock smacked them in the face and they were trying to deal with it.

The soft blue light from Henry 2.0′s aquarium rippled across their face, and Levi could feel their slow, even breaths against his collarbone. His face felt like it was on fire, and he was just about to start flailing when they made a soft noise in their sleep and snuggled in a bit closer. They were shivering.

He had watched enough romcom anime to know the proper course of action, but that didn’t cool his blush any. Sighing in defeat, he managed to sneak his arm up from where it had been resting against his side and - slowly, hesitantly, holy shit what was he doing this was a bad idea what the fu - wrapped it around their shoulders and pulled them in.

Thankfully, they stayed asleep. Slowly but surely, Levi’s heart rate slowed back down to normal as he felt them stop shaking. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?

Satan: It wasn’t often that the human lost their cool. They were probably one of the most put-together beings who ever existed. But, as Satan knew all too well, one could only take so much bullshit before they exploded.

“That sorry, sniveling, micro-dicked little cockroach!”

Satan would have praised them on that insult if he didn’t think it would piss them off more. “Who has a micro dick?”

“That guy I got paired with to do the Potions project!” they had begun pacing around the library. Satan had been in enough arguments to know where this was going, so he shut his book, crossed his legs and waited. The human didn’t disappoint.

“We agreed to meet up at the cafe to work on the project after class, since the assignment is due tomorrow and we needed to get everything put together. Not only does this bastard not show up, he has the balls to text me and ‘apologize’ for not having any of his share of the work done! So now I have to do by tomorrow!” frustrated tears gathered in the corners of their eyes, and Satan had to smother the flames of his own anger. How dare this scum make his human cry?

“Kitten,” he said, hoping the familiar pet name would soothe instead of scorn. “You’re going to wear a path in the carpet if you keep pacing like that.”

They turned to glare at him, but their fire had run out of kindling. They sighed heavily, shoulders slouching as though their anger had physically drained them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I stormed in here and interrupted you, didn’t I? I wan’t thinking, sorry, I’ll just...”

Before they could finish their retreat, Satan was in front of them, hands on their shoulders.

“Hey now, it’s alright.” he reached up and brushed their tears away with the backs of his knuckles. “I of all people know how it is when you’re angry, I understand.”

They sniffled pathetically. “Sorry...”

Smiling gently, Satan guided them to the couch and let them slump against him. They were settled between his legs with their head pillowed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they calmed down. Satan’s long fingers played with their hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

“Now then, I’m going to need a name, address and photo id of this formerly-alive gentleman.”

Asmo: There was nothing quite like those few moments after a couple rounds of mind-blowing sex that had followed a carefully-crafted seduction. Asmodeus sighed in satisfaction as he relaxed against the soft pillows.

“Mm...” the human stirred beside him, and Asmo turned his head to admire his handiwork. Their hair was slick with sweat, curling along their forehead and jaw like ivy climbing up the side of a house. They were soft, pliant, practically melting into the sheets, and they had the most deliciously fucked-out expression on their face.

“Hello there, darling.” he said softly, reaching up to brush their hair out of their eyes. “How are you doing?”

Confusion flashed across their face and Asmo decided to answer their question before they asked it. “Aftercare is very important, my dear. Tell me what you need.”

Unbelievably, the human flushed and buried their head in the pillow. “...dles...”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

The human resurfaced, but couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “...Cuddles.”

Asmo scoffed affectionately. “Are you telling me that, after spending the night committing all kinds of salacious acts with me, you’re having trouble asking me for post-sex cuddles?”

Before the human could proceed with the inevitable flailing, Asmo tucked them against his chest, one leg thrown over both of theirs and a delicately manicured finger tracing over his pact mark on their hip. He felt them sigh contentedly as they settled down, and he couldn’t resist laughing as he kissed their forehead.

“I’ll have you know, post-sex cuddling is the best kind of cuddling.”

Beelzebub: It was a rare occasion that only one brother was camped out in the human’s room. Usually there were at least two monopolizing their bed. But, Mammon had a modeling gig, Levi had a raid going on, Satan had just bought a new book and couldn’t be torn away from it, Asmo had a date, and Belphie was....probably asleep somewhere that wasn’t their room. Which left them and Beel.

“What are we going to watch tonight?” Beel asked, making himself comfortable on their bed. He had brought a bowl of popcorn the size of their head, and before they even picked a movie the bowl was 3/4 of the way empty.

“Come on, Beel, I didn’t even get any!” they pouted, but there was an amused gleam in their eye. “And, to answer your question, I was thinking horror, since Mammon isn’t here to scream through it.”

By the time they finished their sentence, the popcorn had been vacuumed into Beel’s mouth. The human looked at Beel with a raised eyebrow.

“...”

“...”

“...We’re out of popcorn.”

They snorted, snatching the bowl from Beel’s hands. “I’ll go make more, you pick a movie.”

When they returned, Beel was leaning against their headboard with the movie paused on the title screen. It was some Devildom flick that the human had never heard of, but they trusted Beel.

Well, with the movie, anyway.

When he made grabby hands for the popcorn, the human turned to shield it with their body. “I don’t think so! I actually want some this time, Beelzebub. I’m holding it.”

The Avatar of Gluttony looked like they had just told him Santa wasn’t real, but the human stood firm.

“I’ll share, but I’m not letting you inhale the whole bowl.” they stuck their tongue out and plopped themselves on their bed. “Let’s start this thing.”

The movie started with a demon getting disemboweled, so they knew it was going to be good. The human was situation with the bowl rested in between their folded legs, and Beel would reach over and grab a fistful of popcorn every few seconds. But, in order to do that, he would have to rock himself forward, and as a result, spilled a fair amount of popcorn on the bed.

“This isn’t working.” Beel muttered about 20 minutes in.

“What isn’t?” they didn’t even turn away from the screen. It was just getting good!

“I keep spilling the popcorn.”

“Hm?” the human briefly glanced down to realize that they were sitting among the remains of many, many pieces of popcorn. “Oh. So you do. Sorry, Beel, I’ll move.”

The human had meant to scoot just a little closer so Beel wouldn’t have to reach so far, but apparently he had other ideas.

They squeaked a little when they went from leaning against the cool wall to something warm.

“Beel!” they exclaimed, suddenly finding themself situated snugly in Beel’s lap. “What the actual fuck?”

“This is easier.” To demonstrate, he reached into the bowl that was still cushioned in their lap, plucked out a fistful of popcorn, and took a bite. “See? No spilling. And you’re still holding the bowl.”

They felt like their face was going to explode from the force of their blush.

“Is this okay?” Beel asked, apparently belatedly realizing what he had just done might be considered inappropriate.

“...Yeah, it’s okay. You have a comfy lap.”

Beel smiled. “Good. I like having you close like this.”

“Shut up, I’m watching the movie.”

Belphegor: It was hard to keep your circadian rhythm going when there was no sun. This was the third night in a row that the human found themselves unable to sleep, and they were getting sick of sitting in their room playing on their D.D.D. So, even though they knew Lucifer would use their skin to decorate his office if he found them, they tip-toed out of their room and began wandering the halls in search for...something.

Eventually, they found themselves in the planetarium. Honestly, they didn’t know what they would do up there, but it beat sitting around in the darkness waiting for their body to shut down from sheer exhaustion.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

They nearly jumped out of their skin. “Belphie!”

Belphegor was draped languidly over one of the couches, cow-print pillow hugged to his chest as he blinked sleepily at them. “What are you doing up?”

They shrugged. “Trouble sleeping.”

“Is that right?” Belphie hummed, sitting up. “You’re lucky you found me, then.”

“Why is that?” the human asked, tilting their head. Belphegor chuckled softly.

“I’m the Avatar of Sloth. If anyone can cure insomnia, it’s me.” he leaned back against the arm of the couch and opened his arms. “Come on, I won’t hurt you.”

He kept his voice nonchalant, but they felt him push his sincerity through their bond. He was still so cautious around them. Probably always would be.

Taking a deep breath, the human stepped forward into Belphie’s waiting arms. Honestly, the demon was a little shocked that the human had accepted. A slap to the face would have been his first reaction if the tables were turned.

He curled his arms around their shoulders and cupped the back of their head, gently guiding them to the crook of his neck. They squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Hush,” Belphie muttered, voice low and soothing. “I’m going to use magic, okay?”

He felt them nod, already drifting a little bit. Belphie took a deep breath, threading his fingers through their hair. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve their trust and affection. But he was going to take it anyway.

The magic laced itself through his voice as he sang. It was an old lullaby that Lucifer used to sing to him and Beel when they were fussy children, but the human didn’t need to know that. Almost immediately, they stopped wiggling and settled heavily against him. By the time the lullaby was finished, they were asleep, breath fanning deep and even across his collarbone.

Belphegor leaned down and nuzzled into their hair. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

[workingforitallthetime]

bonus scene

hi, here is a bonus svech pov scene from good times rollin’ on me. i had this interaction in mind when i wrote the fic, but i didn’t have a way to reference it from marty’s pov because he’s not present for it and nobody who is would tell him the interesting bits.

The list of words was on all the rainbow signs. They were taped to the narrow strip of glass next to most of the classroom doors at his new high school, announcing “Safe Space.” That was different from Barnaul.

Andrei didn’t add them to his own list of new words, the one he kept on his phone with entries like glorious and unbelievable, but he looked them up all the same. It was nice to learn them. To know which one was his.

He doesn’t end up using them that much. It doesn’t take particular vocabulary to find people, here and there in Michigan, and then more easily in Raleigh, in actual college, not community college where nobody wants to be.

And, unexpectedly, on his new hockey team. Andrei had expected a beer league team like he’d found in Michigan: older guys, with meat and potatoes jobs like mailman or property manager or grounds supervisor, who called him “kid” but made the game fun because they were so happy to be there, playing hockey, getting their one night a week away from wives and kids.

Instead, his new team has Dougie and Foegs. Andrei sees them before their first game. Notices Foegs tuck his chin over Dougie’s shoulder, brush his lips against Dougie’s shoulder pad, quick. Andrei lets Foegs notice him noticing. Then he scoots down the bench in the locker room and asks the two of them about bars in Raleigh. 

Foegs snorts at him. “Are you even twenty one?”

“Sure,” Andrei says, grinning. It’s a useful word, one of his favorites. It moves a conversation along even if Andrei doesn’t entirely understand. Or entirely agree. Or, sometimes, if he wants to pretend later that he didn’t understand. Foegs can think what he wants. It’s not really about the bars.

Foegs never ends up answering Andrei’s question. Instead, Andrei ends up playing Fortnite and watching hockey with them. They make space for him, in the locker room, on the bench, at the bar after games, whenever Marty hasn’t already dragged Andrei into the thick of things. Dougie calls him their little brother and Foegs calls him “our new twink friend” and Andrei rolls his eyes and pretends to hate both options. He doesn’t need any more older brothers. But he does think less about missing Evgeny when Dougie and Foegs are around. They understand things about him that Evgeny does not. It’s a small miracle to have friends who understand that, right from the start.

Andrei keeps an eye on Marty, too, wondering if there’s something to notice. Marty seems like a lot, generally, but sometimes Andrei gets the sense that some of the energy pouring off Marty is directed at him specifically. He’s always looking for Andrei, beckoning him into the group, including him in conversations. Asking Andrei questions, looking at him with intent blue eyes like the answers matter. So the second or third time Andrei’s over at Dougie’s apartment, watching hockey and eating Chinese, he decides to dredge up the vocabulary to ask. 

“Marty.” Andrei parks his chopsticks in the container of noodles he’s eating. “Is he…”

“Nope.” Foegs passes the broccoli beef to Dougie at the other end of the couch. “Marty’s not gay.” Andrei barely recognizes the flicker of disappointment he feels, brief and surprising. Foegs leans over and decisively spears a dumpling from the box on the coffee table. “He just likes dick.”

There’s probably a word for that. Andrei decides not to ask Foegs what it is. It sounds like his answer might be biased.

“Wow, harsh.” Dougie folds his legs under him, settling into the corner of the couch and balancing the takeout container on the arm.

“No, seriously.” Foegs swallows his dumpling. “He hooked up with so many of my friends in college. Marty was, like, the jock you hooked up with to get it out of your system.”

Andrei’s eyes try to go wide. He bites the inside of his lip.

“Then he got a girlfriend, and”—Foegs slashes a diagonal with his chopsticks—“that was that.”

Andrei waits a moment, hoping Dougie picks up on the obvious question. Dougie’s still kind of new too, trying to keep track of all the lines connecting Foegs and his friends just like Andrei is. Sometimes he saves Andrei the trouble of asking. Obligingly, Dougie stretches his foot down the couch and pokes Foegs. “So did you?” 

“No.” Foegs hauls his knee up and knocks Dougie’s foot back. The broccoli beef teeters on the arm of the couch and Dougie catches it just in time. “I played hockey. Hockey players were not, like, this exciting frontier I needed to explore.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dougie pokes Foegs again.

“That’s different, I didn’t know you were a hockey player.” 

“You noticed my Bruins sweater pretty quick.”

“That doesn’t count.” Foegs pushes back at Dougie’s foot with the hand that’s not holding onto his chopsticks. Dougie holds him at bay, looking like it doesn’t take any effort at all. “I was already in your bedroom. It was on your floor.” They’re at an impasse, counterpressure by Foegs holding Dougie’s foot in midair.

Andrei always likes to watch Foegs try to pick a fight with Dougie. It’s like watching a fly in a pasture buzzing around a big placid bull. It’s comfortable. It’s comfortable to spend time at Dougie’s apartment, across the city from campus, with people who know who they are and what they want to do.

“So what?” Dougie suddenly pulls his foot back so Foegs, still pushing, almost tips over on top of him.

Foegs straightens himself up. “You were already going to get it.” He jabs his chopsticks at Dougie triumphantly. “Before I knew you played.”

Andrei doesn’t understand why Foegs wouldn’t want to hook up with a hockey player. It’s kind of nice to think that’s possible. It’s nice to see Dougie’s glove resting on Foegs’ helmet after a goal, and know it means a little bit more. Andrei never would have thought of that in Russia, or in Michigan. The rainbow Safe Space signs didn’t make it as far as the locker room at the rink where his high school team played.

Dougie, unbothered, steals a dumpling. “Nice of you to stick around after you figured it out.”

Foegs smirks. “I kind of had to, the team needed another D-man.”

Dougie tips the broccoli beef onto the coffee table and pins Foegs in a headlock. Chopsticks go flying. While they struggle, Andrei reaches over to sit the takeout container upright before the contents ooze out.

Foegs, with his head smushed against Dougie’s chest, catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye. “Hey.” He digs a finger into Dougie’s ribs. “Hey, Dougie, I think we’re missing the point here.”

Andrei sinks back in his chair, out of the very limited angle of Foegs’ vision.

Dougie’s watching him now, though. “Oh yeah?” He lets Foegs go. After looking around in vain for his chopsticks, he fishes in the empty takeout bag for a fork instead. “What’s that?”

Foegs rakes a hand through his hair, tousling it back into place. He leers at Andrei. “Why’s our new twink friend asking about Marty?”

“Stop it.” Andrei tucks his smile down into his container of noodles. He pokes his chopsticks at a bite of chicken. “I just wonder.”

The expression on Foegs’s face sharpens. “If you’re wondering if he’s flirting with you, the answer’s probably yes.”

“Hmm.” Andrei hums neutrally, channeling Dougie’s imperviousness. Pasture. Cow. Tail flick.

Foegs looks like he’s ready to pounce. Andrei chews slowly, swallows, and snares another bite of noodles. He glances at Dougie. Dougie raises his eyebrows at him, no help.

When Andrei doesn’t add anything, Foegs sits back a bit. “Marty’s just here for a good time.”

“Oh, big surprise,” Andrei scoffs at him. Of course Marty’s fun. He’s fun to play hockey with. Probably, Andrei thinks, he would probably be fun to do other things with. If Foegs means it to be a warning, it’s not an effective one. Andrei wouldn’t mind a good time. He’s a thousand miles away from anyone who’d care, and he wants to have some fun.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Bewitched | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — can I request a older!Damian wayne×reader where they have feelings for each other but are really stubborn and then while they're on a mission the reader almost gets shot and then confess to one another

✦ warnings — light angst, reader and Damian are hostile towards each other until they’re not, poorly channeled feelings, everyone else is tired™︎, mentions of violence, fluff

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Whoever decided you deserved to be punished with Damian Wayne’s presence must’ve hated you. Probably Tim, he had been the one who gave the leadership of the team to Damian. A sweet gesture between brothers that damned your existence.

You supposed he had been happy, Damian had looked pleased with himself, standing tall with an annoyingly smug look in his face as he spoke to his brother mere meters away from you and the team. Thankfully, he ignored you for the first week until he had to give you orders for a mission.

You had been miserable throughout it all, he made you feel so much disgust you felt you would throw up at any given moment. Not even Wally got the reaction you had, it was too visceral — surely no one hated Damian Wayne and his perfect hair more than you.

Your stomach flipped, just as you thought about it he ventured into the room. You glared at him, and he naturally glared back with an intensity that would’ve intimidated anyone who hadn’t heard him complain about petty things. At least he hated you too. With a scoff, Damian fixed his scarf —the green one that only made his eyes pop— and followed the path toward the elevator.

“Ten bucks you chicken out.” Wally’s voice snapped you out of your fixation on the spot Damian had been glaring at you from. Dragging your eyes to the side where the ginger was standing, you tilted your head in confusion.

Gar chortled, “Just ask Robin out and take us out of our misery.”

Unbelievable! They really thought you could ever grow to even tolerate the brat. “I’d rather shoot myself, thank you very much.”

Just because Rachel and Garfield’s relationship worked, it didn’t mean everyone in the team liked each other. And honestly, Gar was either blind or too optimistic to see Damian and you would kill each other if you were left alone in the same room. Wally would’ve probably liked that.

Wally and Gar shared a look. They did that a lot whenever you interacted with Damian — sometimes it wasn’t an interaction what triggered it, you could ask if Robin would stay at The Tower and they would do it; you could say something about how dumb his hood was and they would do it; you could avoid the gym when he was there and they would do it.

Ignoring them, you announced you would go take a walk to shake off the stress Robin gave you.

“You’re acting like a child,” Wally told you, shaking his head.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Damian was in a horrendous mood. He was being a brat, there was no doubt, but he couldn’t care less.

Titus tried to get his attention, whining and wagging his tail. Damian patted the hound’s head and went back to the book he had been reading. He couldn’t even focus properly, his mind was still reeling out of frustration.

He had come to tolerate Tim a long time ago, Damian now fully saw him as a brother. But Tim seemingly lived to torment him, there was no other explanation as to why he thought it would be a good idea to have him in the same team as you.

He had earned his place as leader, but he didn’t want you around. His gut failed him sparingly, and this time it said he should stay away from you.

Testing you would have been a good idea, perhaps you had mystical powers he wasn’t aware of. That would explain the way his chest tightened when he saw you, you were bewitching him to have a heart attack.

Dropping the book, he patted Titus’ head again before leaving his bedroom. He ran downstairs with an impetuosity he hadn’t felt in months.

Jason’s grunts and the tapping against a keyboard echoed around the Batcave. Damian double checked to make sure no one else was there. Walking directly towards the youngest of his older brothers, he leaned his back against the desk as he stared at Tim.

“Drake, do you have a moment?”

Tim didn’t take his eyes off the screen, “What’s up, Dami?”

He would’ve sneered at the nickname a year ago. Now he ignored it. “Have you tested (L/N)?”

Jason and Tim sighed loudly, tired of hearing him go on and on about you. Everyone in the house avoided Damian whenever he came back from Titan Tower just because of that, it seemed like he was the only one who hadn’t realized what was really going on.

Indulging him, Tim stopped typing and turned to look at his little brother. “Tested her for what?”

“Hidden powers. I believe she is manipulating everyone in the team.”

Tim pursed his lips, humming. It was getting harder and harder not to laugh at Damian’s theories and demeanor. God, if only Dick wasn’t busy! It would’ve been hilarious.

Jason couldn’t help himself, however. Standing from his planking position on the mat, he popped a water bottle open. Bringing it to his lips, he commented, “Maybe it’s time you ask her out.”

“That implies I don’t despise her which is a severely wrong misunderstanding of my character,” Damian stated pridefully.

Leaving the chair to stretch, Tim placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’ll learn to like her.”

“I’d rather stab myself and suffer an agonizing death.”

Jason caught the faltering tone in Damian’s voice but decided to keep it to himself. “You’re being childish, demon spawn.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself but was interrupted by Alfred who announced it was time for them to get ready for patrol.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Rachel insisted that it wasn’t hatred what you were feeling. Listening to her might have been wise, but it would mean entertaining the idea that you found Damian attractive. You couldn’t, it didn’t sound real.

You had said “he’s just not ugly” and tried to move on, but no one believed you.

It didn’t matter because you believed it to be true. You had faith in what you were thinking and feeling. The only thing you felt towards him was repulsión and it was mutual, he had been clear the week prior.

The team had tried to prevent you two from fighting, keeping you out of his way. Aware of the reason behind their tiptoeing, you stormed out and confronted him.

His words had affected you a little bit, you couldn’t deny that, but that was only because you had been accused of doing things you weren’t capable of.

You said things you had never imagined uttering to another living being. You had never been a hateful person, but Damian made you react aggressively 100% of the time. He hadn’t been different, you had never heard him say such things — not even when he faced Deathstroke.

The yelling got to the point where Dick, Kory, and Tim were summoned by Victor who didn’t have time to put up with more fights. After complaining about how sloppy you were and how better the team would be without you, Damian had stormed out on the four of you.

Dick and Tim had been unfazed, clearly used to the bratty behavior. You excused yourself and went directly to your bedroom. You didn’t see him until the next mission.

He regretted every time he had complained of a narrator using a variation of witnessing something in slow motion. He now understood exactly what the narrators meant, and he was doing so in the worst way possible.

Damian had never regretted many things, not since he started living with his father at least, but now he could think of multiple comments and gestures.

He needed to calm down. You were okay, everything was fine — you were capable of taking care of yourself, he didn’t have to worry. You hadn’t even been harmed, but he couldn’t shake the image of that bullet missing you by millimeters.

What would have he done if you were shot? It would’ve been his fault for not giving you the proper orders, for thinking you would eventually quit being part of the team and free him of the oppression in his chest and the lightheadedness.

Turning the lights of his bedroom off, he closed the door. The other wooden doors were closed too, Garfield usually slept for an entire day after missions so Damian imagined everyone was trying to be as silent as possible.

Well, your bedroom door was ajar. You were finishing folding the laundry you had left undone before the mission. Damian knocked out of politeness. “Busy?”

“I’ll have the mission report ready in an hour,” you told him, not bothering to grant him your attention. The only reason you were giving him explanations was that he was your team leader. “I just need to make a phone call.”

“Boyfriend needs to know where you are?” His tone was harsher than he intended. Damian hated the way you couldn’t even grace him with a glare now.

You folded the pastel yellow t-shirt on your lap carefully. “Sister, actually.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that you had siblings.” You hummed. Damian blurted, “Does that mean you don’t have a boyfriend?”

The insistence made you lift your head to stare at him. He could’ve been mocking you and you wouldn’t have been aware. But he wasn’t, his eyes were dancing over your face in expectancy of an answer.

“I don’t.”

“That’s good.”

Planting a foot on the floor, you shrugged. As you split the stacks of clothes to carry them with more ease, you asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

God, there were many things; the fact that you had asked was a win on itself. Damian walked into the bedroom, curiously analyzing the bookshelf. He had only been there once, when he was given a tour of the tower — remembering the unnecessarily mean comment he made about the color of the walls, he winced.

The color was fine, but he had hated the way his heart raced when you opened the door and greeted Tim and him. You had been so polite he didn’t recognize you the first time you rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t blame you for disliking him, he just wished it was different, that you were in the same position he was and with the same worries that had caused him many sleepless nights.

He opened your closet to then take a stack of clothes from the bed. He liked the way you arranged them, it reminded him of the way his mother used to.

“Leave that, I can do it.”

Shaking his head, Damian silently picked another stack of clothes and like he had done before, stored it in your closet. “You should rest.”

He was scaring you now. Since when did he care about your wellbeing? And since when weren’t you healthy enough to do chores?

“I’m not tired.”

“You were almost shot at.”

Oh, that. You had assumed no one had been paying attention, you didn’t even blame them for that when the battle had been so intense.

“Well, you were almost stabbed but I’m not saying anything.”

“You technically are.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

Damian made a pause. “What if I had been stabbed?” You looked up at him, so innocently confused he had to fight the urge of cupping your full cheeks. “What would you have done?”

Such a great question. Rachel’s voice echoed in your mind — she had been right. She was always right, actually, and you didn’t like it in this instance.

“Does it matter?”

“Sadly.”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “What I said last week… I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t mean anything of what I said either.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Avoiding your eyes, he continued, “I wish— no, that would be a lie too… this isn’t how these things are supposed to go.”

Unsure as to what to say, you decided to remain silent. Only he knew what he wanted to express.

“I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You were more baffled now. “Is there a but?”

“No. I’m afraid there are things I do actually want you to do, though.”

“The report?”

He giggled. Damian Wayne giggled because of something you said. You had never heard a sound that compared with it, there was no point in trying to find something as adorable as a brooding giant giggling because of your perplexed questions.

That was until he said, “I want you to like me. I want you to trust me like you trust West and to talk to me… I want you to tell me about your life, all the things you like and hate.” He let out a scoff, “I know it’s asking too much, but I want you to…”

It shouldn’t have taken him being about to watch you get hurt to realize it. Then again, he wasn’t an expert in emotions. Damian dominated languages, he could talk his way out of almost any situation, he was an expert in many sciences, but emotions had never been his forte.

Emotions were weaknesses where he came from. He wasn’t the child scared of his mother catching him crying out of pain due to a broken arm anymore, but that child still lived inside him. Said child had morphed into a young adult scared of his own self catching him falling in love with the person he least expected.

His fear had come true, and running away from it wouldn’t only be useless but stupid.

Playing with his fingers, he stated, “I want you. That’s it.”

“Me too.” You put your hand on top of both of his.

Damian stared down at your hand for a moment, then turned to look at you. He needed you to be sure of what you were saying, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t see past his awful behavior toward you.

You squeezed his fingers. “I mean it.”

Twisting his hand, he pressed his palm on yours. Wiggling his fingers as he intertwined them with yours, thumb brushing the back of your hand, he asked, “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” you assured, making him grin.

You felt your stomach twist at his gesture. This time you didn’t find the sensation uncomfortable — on the contrary, it was a relief to finally understand it had never meant disgust. Your pride hated it, your mental health was thankful.

Your head drifted closer to his shoulder. The soft material of his sweatshirt invited you to rest it there, and Damian was delighted when you finally did it. He stayed still for a lingering moment, questioning whether he should do it or not — eventually he caved in and kissed the top of your head.

Craning your neck to look at him, now with your cheek pressed on his shoulder, you smiled at him. His eyes lit up as he smiled back, green orbs deviating to your lips.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you,” he answered truthfully.

Breathing out a small laugh, you said, “do it, then.”

He slowly dropped his lips onto yours, brushing them tentatively at first. You slid your hand off his as you kissed him back, placing it on his other shoulder as you lifted your head without breaking the kiss.

Damian’s arm wrapped around your plump waist, holding your face with his free hand while deepening the kiss. Trailing your hand up to his neck, your thumb traced his jaw while your lips sucked on his bottom lip.

“I still have to call my sister,” you reminded him as he pulled you closer.

Humming, Damian tightened his arm around you to bring you flush against him so you would straddle his lap. “I’m not stopping you, angel. I’m sure you can multitask.”

And so you called home, with an arm around Damian’s neck as your fingers played with his hair and he buried his face in your neck.

The next morning the kitchen was almost empty when you were ready for the day, only Rachel was there already which was how it usually went.

Eventually, the kitchen and therefore the dining room filled. The only one missing was Garfield, but you were used to that after missions. The chatter progressed as it did on a daily basis — Rachel mostly kept to herself unless she had something to say, Victor told Wally to stop talking with his mouth full of food, and Wally disobeyed Victor.

“Good morning.” Damian greeted the team, walking toward the cupboard to retrieve a mug.

Your teammates mumbled greetings. The clattering of silverware against ceramic got louder as they hurried their meal in case Damian and you decided it was a good time to fight.

A warm hand was placed on your hip. You carefully turned around, placing a hot mug in his free hand. “Green with a teaspoon of brown sugar.”

He kissed your forehead, lips still caressing your temple as he spoke, “thank you, beloved.”

Wally’s shocked screech woke Garfield up from his deep slumber two floors up.