#also I will probably take away his middle part because people keep thinking it’s supposed to be me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollandorks · 1 year

Text

fright

battinson! bruce wayne x gn! reader

summary: in the midst of investigating a drug that kills people with their own fear, Bruce is drugged.

**not affiliated with middle of the night**

a/n: I'm back with something new, finally! I've been wanting to write this for a while, just for fun, because the battinson brain rot still hasn't gone away in over a year. Hopefully I'll be doing more oneshots from here on out! I tried to make this reader as gender neutral as possible but if I slipped up anywhere let me know so I can fix it!

word count: 7081

The abandoned subway station is cold and damp but comfortingly familiar.

Alfred had simply waved you downstairs to get started on your work while Bruce was out on patrol. That was one thing about constantly being around a vigilante–it turned you into a night owl, the changes almost imperceptible until you can no longer fall asleep on your own before two in the morning, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Sometimes you aren’t sure if it was because you’re used to working late on your nights working with Bruce…

Or if you couldn’t fall asleep until you knew Gotham’s vigilante was home safe again after another night.

So since you’re a night owl these days, you’ve taken to doing your work in the darkest parts of the night, comfortable with commuting after dark. Though Alfred and Bruce both insisted on you keeping a guest room in Wayne Tower when you work late, as neither of them are comfortable with you walking Gotham alone at night. Sometimes the city’s resident vigilante watches over you, but for those other times–those other times you stay in the drafty room set aside for you, one floor below Bruce’s bedroom.

You aren’t sure you’re supposed to know where Bruce’s bedroom is, exactly. But unbeknownst to the man himself, you’ve helped Alfred twice now haul his huge frame to bed when he’d passed out from either exhaustion or severe injuries. And as it was, it never came up in conversation that you had seen his bedroom, the space just as cluttered as the subway station belowground was.

You wouldn’t admit, either, that may or may not have snooped. His bedroom was neat, but organized in a way only his mind seemed to understand, the same as where he kept everything Batman-related. The bedroom closet was full of dark colors and clothes that were at least a decade old, and a full row of the black work boots he preferred to wear with his armor, some scuffed and torn beyond recognition, a couple of pairs almost new.

It isn’t a secret, exactly, but you knew Bruce well enough by now to know he probably wouldn’t like that you’d seen his bedroom without permission.

It’s his bedroom you think of now as you sit down to work at your designated desk in the abandoned station. The space was less lived in that the basement around you. Did Bruce prefer the bats for company? Or was the tower above too full of ghosts for him to face? Either way, he spends more of his time downstairs than up. There’s even a ratty secondhand couch shoved to one side where he seems to do most of his sleeping. You’ve seen him crash there more times than you could count.

You stretch already-cold fingers and boot up the multiple computer screens that have become yours even though you only own the laptop.

You’ve been working with him for a few months now, the connection pure chance, as most things in your life were. Your move to Gotham, your skill with computers, your meeting with a kevlar-covered vigilante. It was all chance, a force you believe in almost as much as you believe in gravity.

It had been a beautiful night that night, which really should have been your first clue that it was all going to hell. You were taking a simple walk to clear your head after a long day at work. You’d hated the corporate job you were working at, which was, ironically enough, at Wayne Enterprises.

That night was the first time you were acquainted with Gotham’s dark, violent underbelly. It was also the first time you met the man you’d thought was simply an urban legend–the Batman, a shadow turned savior at the moment you thought it would all be over.

He’d disappeared as your thanks rose to your lips, swallowed up by the night before you could utter the words.

The second time you met Batman was by chance, too. You’d gotten some information on a crime and, well, you had done the not-so-smart thing and used your computer skills to follow the lead.

Batman had followed the same lead through different methods.

Showing up at the same place at first led him to suspect you, but once you’d pulled out your laptop and proven how you’d gotten the information by using Gotham’s surveillance cameras to track the assholes down, he was curious. He wanted you to show him exactly how you’d done it. He’d revealed his curious mind to you that night, and that was the first piece of him you developed a crush on.

The sharp jawline didn’t hurt, either.

You smile to yourself as your fingers work over the keyboard to the computer in front of you. These days, he has you scouring surveillance cameras, police scanners, and internet forums for leads on cases. You also have your not-so-legal hacking skills to accomplish those things. And that’s in between the research you do on current cases. Not to mention the extra work you do behind his back to keep Batman’s identity from ever getting out–not that he needs to know that, not yet. It’s mostly deleting everything you can get your hands on that discusses his possible identity, whether it’s really far off base or a little too close to home.

It’s a lot of work, but you love it. You’d barely given it a thought when Bruce–before you’d known his identity–had asked you to help him. You’d said yes before the question had been fully finished.

Tonight, Bruce is staking out the seedier parts of Gotham trying to track down a new drug. At least, you think it’s a new drug. Several people have turned up dead, their features marred by their own hands, with something unknown in their bloodstreams. The medical examiner said it seemed as if they had all been…frightened to death, the levels of cortisol and adrenaline in their blood sky high.

Right now you have your computers working in the background to monitor police chatter, any hints from the dark web, and anything else you can think of to track down the source of the drug. While the program works to search for keywords and phrases on one of your three monitors, the other two screens are split between all of the ME reports and the information on each victim and real-time video feeds from every camera in the city you can get your hands on.

Bruce doesn’t know that you’re trying to watch his back while working the case.

You worry about him, even though he’s probably the most capable person you’ve ever met.

The third time you’d met him he’d shown up at your apartment bleeding everywhere. He hadn’t even known he was bleeding everywhere. He’d gotten into a fight while tracking you down to get you to use your skills on another case and simply ignored his injuries in favor of keeping his goal.

Luckily, a few days earlier you’d sliced your finger open while cooking and had some of the weird liquid bandaid stuff you’d been using. There’d been a ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face when you’d run and gotten it for him. He’d thanked you softly, and then gone back to being all-business as you worked on the gash on his arm. As you’d bandaged the cut, he told you about the case he was working, and how your computer skills would really help him out.

He started turning up more frequently after that, asking for help on cases. Until the day he’d asked if you wanted a permanent position helping him–paid and everything.

And now here you were, in his innermost circle, allowed to know everything about him. At least, as much of everything as he let anyone know.

Your computer pings right as Bruce grunts over the comms. It’s another thing he might not know about, your nightly tuning in to the comms as he goes out. Not that you aren’t allowed, but it’s something you won’t admit to unless directly questioned.

You sit up straight so fast it sends your desk chair rolling backwards. Fumbling for the edge of your desk to pull yourself forward, you frantically click through tabs to figure out where the alert was coming from.

A connection.

Your breath leaves in a rush as you scan the information.

Then you’re scrambling back for the comms, flipping the mic on, and trying to string a coherent sentence together.

“I found a lead,” you finally manage. It sounds like he’s in the middle of a fight. Oops. You push on, knowing he can hear you even if he can’t respond. “They were all patients at Arkham Asylum at some point. And they all were treated by the same doctor, Jonathan Crane.”

Bruce starts cursing. There’s a strange hissing noise over the comms. You lightly shake the computer, trying to figure out the source of the static.

“I know,” he finally says. The hissing has stopped, but now there’s a new noise. A familiar noise. The sound of his motorcycle revving to life.

“Wh–how?” you say, unsure how he found out before you did.

There’s more cursing and the sound of the bike speeding up.

“I’m–shit.” He coughs. “I’m on my way back. Tell Alfred to–” His breath stutters for a moment. “I don’t–”

“Please tell me you haven’t been stabbed to death,” you say with more bravado than you feel. With one hand, you text Alfred to come downstairs with the first aid kit.

But the comms have gone silent. Bruce is breathing heavily, the only way you know he’s still there.

“Where were you hit?” you ask. “What street? How bad is it?”

No answer. Bruce makes a noise that raises every hair on your body.

It sounds like he’s…afraid.

You scramble to pull up every feed you have and find out where he’s been so you could see what happened.

In all your months knowing him, you’ve never heard Bruce make such a noise. You’ve never heard him afraid like that. Something about it raises every hair on the back of your neck.

You search camera after camera on the streets of Gotham, looking for any sign of Bruce at the moment he said he was on his way back. You curse quietly to yourself, the sound of Bruce’s motorcycle engine through the comms filling the echoing space around you.

Then–there. Grainy as all get out and the only angle is available from a building across the street. But it’s him–there’s no denying the hulking shadow that is the Batman. He’s helping someone, a woman who appears to be screaming though the video has no audio attached. She thrashes and hits at Bruce, seemingly hysterical.

Then she goes utterly still. You realize that it was about this time where you flipped the comms on to listen.

Someone steps out of the shadows of the alley in front of them and there’s a sudden small cloud of fog.

Bruce darts away, hopping on his motorcycle as the figure moves fully into the light. He–because you can see now that it’s a man–looks down at the woman dead on the sidewalk. Then his face tilts upward and you see why Bruce said, I know.

It was the doctor himself, the one who’d been treating all of the dead patients.

Jonathan Crane.

Even with the shitty quality, his face is a clear match for the identification photo linked to Arkham.

You immediately save images of the video for Gordon to see. Here’s the proof you need–this and the Batman’s testimony of an attack surely are enough to at least get Crane investigated properly.

Hopefully.

The small printer starts to spit out the pictures as the roar of a familiar engine abruptly cuts off in the tunnels outside of the station.

You straighten.

“Bruce?” you call out uncertainly. Normally he comes tearing in, hopping the motorcycle up on the ramp to be worked on and showing off a bit as he does it, or parking haphazardly near his work tables so he can get straight back to work. In the months you’d known him, he’d never stopped outside of the station for any reason.

Your heart is somewhere near your feet as you tentatively step forward.

“Bruce?” you say again, this time much quieter.

You’re suddenly yanked backwards off your feet as a gloved hand presses against your mouth. You squirm, panicked, trying to get away. You lament all the times you refused Bruce’s self defense lessons.

“Shh, be quiet,” a familiar voice says.

You relax all at once.

It’s Bruce.

Even through his armor, you can feel his heart pounding rapidly. His breath comes in sharp gasps that he struggles to keep quiet.

He lets you turn in his arms. His eyes are wild, panicked.

“Where are you hurt?” you murmur quietly. Your eyes track over every inch of him. There’s no blood that you can see, but he’s still in his all-black armor and you’re both tucked in the shadows near the hangar door that opens into the tunnels. You probably wouldn’t be able to see the blood if there was any.

Bruce is still panting like he’s been running. “They’re coming,” he whispers. You frown. You already checked all the cameras from his route home and the security cameras in the tunnel. He came in alone.

There’s a quiet noise somewhere in the distance, probably just a bat going to bed for the day, but Bruce yanks you close against his chest and whirls with one fist raised.

Now you’re afraid, too. Has someone followed him all this way and you missed it somehow? Has someone found his inner sanctum? Are you both in danger?

Another noise startles you both.

The elevator descending.

Bruce’s eyes are wild beneath his mask.

“It’s Alfred,” you whisper, but Bruce seems not to hear you.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he murmurs into your ear, dragging you along with him into the recessed shadows by the elevator. You stumble along, still tucked against his side, the feeling of his breath on your ear lingering and making you shiver. Even though you’re afraid, you feel safe. “We’ll get you help, I promise.” You’re not sure what you need help with, but you remain quiet.

Bruce has always protected you, whether he knows it or not.

He physically protects you, sure, watching your back as the Batman, keeping you safe in a city as turbulent as Gotham. But Bruce also has always looked out for your mental health, too.

There have always been nights where things are just…bleak, whether or not for any particular reason. You withdraw into yourself during those times, much like Bruce himself does. Somehow he always, always knows how to draw you back out. Sometimes it’s a quiet joke, sometimes a request to help him with something, sometimes it’s only his quiet company as he sits and works next to you.

So even now, as you fear every moving shadow, every noise, thinking someone might be coming after you…

Even now, you know you’ll be safe and protected with Bruce.

It’s part of why you love him.

Not that he’d ever know that.

“Stay put,” Bruce says into your ear, making you shiver all over again.

He pushes gently on your shoulders in a stay put motion and steps away on silent feet. Even now his grace surprises you, even after months of watching him, being around him. He is a wonder to behold, a massive shadow that becomes weightless in a single breath. It’s like he becomes incorporeal at will, turning into shadow and smoke before he strikes.

The elevator gates rattle open and Bruce leaps.

Alfred is on the ground, first aid kit scattering to all corners of the station with a clatter, in barely a blink.

“Bruce!” you half-shout, the instinct automatic. Your voice overlaps with Alfred’s, the echoes sending the bats into a frenzy overhead.

Bruce goes utterly still, one fist raised like he’s going to hit Alfred. Alfred of all people. He flinches at the bats but his focus is on Alfred.

Alfred is as calm as ever despite the figure looming threateningly over him.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“Alfred,” Bruce chokes out and the sound is agonized. He seems paralyzed. “I’m sorry, I was too slow–”

The three of you don’t move.

You approach slowly. “Bruce?” you say softly, like he’s a wild animal backed into a corner. Because that’s what he looks like–wild, feral, and most of all, scared. You think of the ME reports and have to bite your lip to distract yourself from the fear that brings.

“You have to–you have to tie me up,” Bruce says, his arm trembling like he’s holding himself back. “He dosed me with–whatever it is.” His eyes dart around the space.

You straighten as if shocked. “Dr. Crane did?”

“Yes, he–” Bruce flinches and then refocuses on Alfred, still beneath him and as calm as ever as if it were an everyday experience. “Oh God. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry.”

Then Bruce does something even more shocking.

He sobs.

You startle as if a gunshot has gone off.

You’ve never heard Bruce cry. You’ve never even really seen him sad. Angry, sure. And frustrated. Those seem to be his two main moods, other than generally quiet. The happiness is rare, but you’ve seen that too.

But you’ve never, ever heard him cry.

“Bruce?” you say again, uncertain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he groans. “I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry.” He scrambles away from Alfred. His eyes are still wild, darting every which way, his expression frantic under the mask.

Your brain works quickly through all the evidence you’ve been digging into.

“It’s making him afraid,” you tell Alfred as the older man gets unsteadily to his feet. Bruce whirls and throws a punch, but there’s nothing there. “Whatever he was dosed with, it’s making him afraid.”

What you don’t tell Alfred is that this drug most likely scared the other victims to death.

Your heart pounds with enough fear that you wonder briefly if you’ve been dosed too.

“If he’s like this, he won’t react well to being tied up,” Alfred says, but he starts moving efficiently, pulling zip ties from Bruce’s belt as he fights invisible foes.

In one swift movement, Alfred grabs Bruce’s wrist, kicks him in the back of one knee, and grabs the other wrist.

You gape as he tightens Bruce’s hands behind his back even as he thrashes.

“No!” Bruce shouts. “Let me go! I have to get there before it’s too late! No!”

“How did you–?” You stare at Alfred with your mouth open slightly. Alfred is a man of many hidden talents, apparently.

“We need to get him more secure,” Alfred says, still calm as ever. And maybe, with as long as he’s been around Bruce, this sort of thing is normal. You’ve only been around a few months–Alfred’s been around since the beginning. You wonder just how many times Bruce has gotten himself into messes like this.

Alfred grunts as Bruce tries to get away. Apparently, Alfred’s strong, even with an old leg injury. You hold the man in high esteem but it just gets higher as you watch him.

“Tell me what to do,” you say as you straighten your spine. Bruce needs you, and that’s all that matters. You need him to make it through the night–that’s your focus right now.

“See if you can calm him down long enough for us to get him upstairs. His bed should be sturdy enough for us to tie him to.” Alfred grunts and manages to shove Bruce back to his knees as he rises.

You quickly kneel in front of Bruce and take his face in your hands. “Bruce? It’s me. It’s okay. Alfred and I are okay.”

Bruce’s eyes roll around without focus. His breathing is even worse now, each breath rasping out of his chest, his whole body heaving with it.

You try to push the memory of the crime scene photos out of your mind. Bodies twisted with fear. People who were dosed with whatever this was who died scared out of their minds.

You’re terrified for Bruce, but you push it away.

“Bruce, please,” you say, softer now, fingers pressed tightly against his cheeks. You can feel the slight scrape of stubble on your palms.

Bruce’s brilliant blue eyes finally meet yours. “No,” he says and the desperate word is like a bullet to your heart. His whole body strains towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t die.”

“Bruce, I’m okay,” you say. Your hands fumble before gripping the mask and pulling it off. Bruce cringes away. “I’m okay, I’m not dying.” Your fingers card through his hair. Damp with sweat, it sticks up with the movement. Bruce leans into the touch, and his breathing seems to ease slightly.

“Y/n,” he mumbles. His eyes close for a second.

“Bruce, let’s get you upstairs,” Alfred says in a low voice.

Somehow, the pair of you get him up, hands still tied behind his back, and into the elevator. Bruce keeps repeating his apologies, every sound from his lips pained and terrified.

“Alfred we need to–to get the drug out of his system somehow, if we can. I don’t know what else to do.” You whisper the words because you’re worried about setting Bruce off even further. You hold tight to his armored elbow.

“I can get an IV started once we get him settled, that might work.” Alfred furrows his brow. “Y/n…how bad is this drug? What have you found in your research?”

You hesitate, staring up at Bruce for a moment. His arms jerk in their restraints, but there’s nowhere for him to go in the small space of the elevator. “I don’t know how many people were dosed with it and survived,” you finally admit.

Alfred goes still and stares at you while absently wrangling Bruce back into the corner. “How many died?”

“I don’t know. Five, I think. Three for sure. Bruce watched a woman die from it right before he got hit in the face with it.” You chew your lip. Your eyes fill with tears as you meet Bruce’s anguished blue eyes.

“Then we will do everything in our power to keep him alive,” Alfred swears. “After he’s secured, I’ll get the IV started first and then we’ll make sure to monitor his vitals. If it gets too bad…”

“He won’t be happy if he has to go to the hospital,” you say, but part of you wants to insist that you take him anyway.

“No!” Bruce shouts as the elevators open.

You don’t know what he’s responding to, but suddenly he’s frantic again, whatever slight semblance of calm he had in the elevator abruptly gone. He aims a kick at the wall and somehow leverages his bound hands in front of him.

Alfred curses and shoves Bruce against the same wall. He braces the younger man with his whole body but his bad leg trembles.

“Go get the medical bag!” Alfred says. “We need to sedate him.”

You pause. “But what if something reacts with the drug?”

Alfred curses again. “There’s nothing else to do. We’ll give him as low a dose as we can and keep an eye on him. Go!”

So you run. Your feet slip over dusty hardwood floors as you scramble as fast as you can for Alfred’s medical bag. The bag is full of everything Alfred might need in a Batman-related emergency in case Bruce couldn’t make it home or even upstairs. The first aid kit is for general injuries–this bag is for when things go to hell.

It feels as if hours have passed in the short amount of time it took to grab the bag. When you reach the elevator again, Alfred and Bruce are gone. You can hear them in Bruce’s bedroom now and hurry towards them.

“Get his other arm!” Alfred says as he handcuffs one of Bruce’s hands to his massive wood headboard.

You scramble up on the bed and over Bruce to do as Alfred says.

“Let me tie you up, Bruce,” you say gently even though you aren’t sure he can hear you. “Please,” you say as he fights your grip. He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, it’s nearly impossible to even get the handcuffs on his wrist, let alone connected to the other side of the headboard.

“Alfred,” you say around a grunt. You’re fully straddling Bruce now but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. It sounds like he’s having an asthma attack, he’s breathing so hard and wheezing so much. God, what if he stops breathing and passes out from his panic?

It takes several more minutes of you and Alfred both yanking on Bruce’s arm–because damn is he strong–before he’s finally, finally secured against the headboard.

You immediately start taking off the armor on his arms as Alfred preps the IV. You sit on Bruce’s legs to stop his incessant kicking, murmuring soothing words to him the whole time. You and Alfred will both be covered in bruises tomorrow, but you don’t even notice any pain at the moment.

Bruce freaks out when Alfred sticks the needle in his arm. He shouts wordlessly and thrashes so hard the bed moves away from the wall. You curse under your breath and get off of him.

“Hold this arm as best you can,” Alfred says.

“Who knew he could cause so much damage while handcuffed?” The joke comes out wobbly, though, your worry seeping through your words. Even leaning all of your body weight on Bruce, he still makes it nearly impossible for Alfred to get the IV in.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when it finally goes in. Alfred works quickly and efficiently, still the perfect picture of calm even though he must be freaking out as much as you are–if not more.

After another minute, Bruce relaxes marginally. He stops trying to escape and settles back into the pillows, still awake and staring with wild eyes around the room. Every so often he jerks one of his restraints, as if testing them.

You blow out another breath.

“I’m going to monitor his pulse and blood pressure,” Alfred says as he pulls the necessary things out of the giant medical bag. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him until the drug passes through his system.”

You nod, staring down at Bruce, feeling utterly helpless. How are you supposed to fight someone’s own mind? There’s nothing you can do that isn’t being done already–and there’s still no guarantee Bruce will survive.

As quick as it comes, you shut the thought down. Bruce will make it through this, even if it kills you.

You finish undoing his chest plates and set them to the side. You brush Bruce’s hair back from his face.

“You’ll be okay,” you say solemnly. “You’re too stubborn to die, and Alfred and I are too stubborn to let you.” When you look up, Alfred is frowning at the blood pressure machine and the pulse oximeter on Bruce's finger. “What?”

“Talk to him again,” is all he says.

You raise an eyebrow but turn back to Bruce. “Who knew Alfred was so strong, huh?” you say, aiming for lightness, but the words seem to fall short.

You reach out and smooth his wild, dark hair.

Alfred’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “I think you calm him down, my dear.”

It’s your turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you talk or touch him, his pulse drops a little and his breathing gets easier.” Alfred gives you a knowing look.

Alfred’s the only one who knows about your crush on Bruce. He’s told you, repeatedly, to admit your feelings, but you’re too scared. Bruce is so far out of your league it’s laughable. Just because he trusts you enough with his secret doesn’t mean he feels the same way you do. Bruce has so few friends–his only two are, in fact, you and Alfred–that you know he opened up simply because he could. Bruce needed a friend, a confidant, a partner. You were able to give him that. That’s all.

You stare at Alfred then, resigned, climb up over Bruce to sit by his head.

“How about a scalp massage?” you ask Bruce. “Because apparently it makes you feel calmer.”

Alfred chuckles. “His mother used to do that. Rub his head to get him to sleep or to get him to calm down when he was upset.” The older man softens as he stares down at Bruce.

Something inside you melts. You reach a slightly trembling hand out and run it over Bruce’s head. You feel for a moment like you’re taking advantage of him. You never get to touch him like this, to simply watch him, and you relish it.

“Here,” Alfred says, handing out a small package. “For the black around his eyes.”

You take a wipe with your free hand and gently rub at the makeup on Bruce’s face. Both of his arms jerk against the restraints at that first touch. He starts panting hard again.

“The blood–” he says with a pained moan. “The blood–”

“There’s no blood, Bruce,” you say. Each touch is careful, gentle. “Everyone’s alright.”

But he keeps yanking at the restraints. His wrists underneath his long sleeve shirt are turning redder and redder with each movement.

“I couldn’t save them,” Bruce says around a small sob. He stares at you but you don’t think he actually can see you. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t save them.”

“Save who?” you ask with one final swipe of the wipe over his eyes.

“My parents. Alfred.” A tear slips over his cheek. “You.”

“Alfred and I are alive, Bruce,” you say as you sit back on your heels on the bed. You carefully reach over and tug each of his sleeves over his wrist underneath the handcuffs.

But Bruce doesn’t hear. “Stop!” he shouts at an unseen foe. “Don’t hurt them!”

His sleeves have ridden up again, exposing his wrists to the handcuffs. You can see a small bit of blood on the wrist closest to you.

Alfred hands out a bandage. “This should help.”

You each bandage a wrist even as Bruce continues struggling. His pleas fade to pained noises that rip your heart out each time.

“We should give him more of the sedative,” Alfred says. He rubs a hand over his face tiredly. “Where are the autopsy records? Maybe I can find out what this drug contains and see if there’s anything we can safely give him.”

“They’re all at my workstation downstairs.”

“I’ll be right back,” Alfred says. He hurries off, his limp even more pronounced now.

Bruce continues straining against the handcuffs. His face is red with effort, his chest still heaving, the veins on his neck sticking out. He brings his knees up and leverages himself so his back smashes against the headboard. It creaks and groans.

Whatever Alfred gave him must not have been enough. He’s just as frantic as he was before. Except now he’s trying to break his wrists and the headboard at the same time.

“Stop that,” you say calmly even as your heart pounds. You wouldn’t put it past Bruce to snap the entire thing trying to get free. You run your fingers through his hair again. He immediately settles somewhat, his tugs on the handcuffs slightly easier.

You decide to use both hands and give him the promised scalp massage. The longer your fingers work through the tangles, the more he seems to relax. You glance at the small device on his finger. His heart rate is still too high, but it lowers slightly at your prolonged touch. It’ll have to be good enough, you decide. Anything to keep his heart from giving out.

When you look back up, Bruce is staring into your eyes.

“I thought–I couldn’t be afraid anymore,” he says quietly. He seems more lucid now. Maybe the dose wasn’t that strong. You silently pray to all the gods and entities that might listen that it’ll be over soon. “But seeing you die–” His breath catches in his chest. “I couldn’t save you.”

“I’m here,” you say. You wish you could take his fear and pain away, but there’s nothing else you can do. “I didn’t die.”

Bruce makes a noise in his throat that you can’t comprehend. “It’s my–worst nightmare.” His eyes close. He grimaces.

You keep trying to sooth him with your fingers in his hair. “You’re hallucinating, Bruce,” you say. “I don’t know if you’re able to tell what’s real right now, but all the bad things? Those are hallucinations.”

“You’re real,” he murmurs softly. His body is a lot more relaxed.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m here. I’m real.”

Alfred bursts back into the room, laptop tucked under his arms. “I think we can give him more.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No, but if this doesn’t work…He’ll need an ambulance.”

“He seems a lot calmer,” you say. Bruce’s eyes are still closed but he hums. “I don’t think the dose was very strong. He probably took the guy by surprise.”

Alfred injects something into the IV, and Bruce’s body goes slack after a few moments. Alfred checks his pulse and blood pressure for several quiet moments, watching each of them improve slightly minute by minute.

“That should do it,” Alfred says. He brushes a hand over his salt and pepper beard. “You can go on to bed, my dear.”

“No, I’ll–I’ll stay, keep an eye on him. You go.” You expect him to argue, but Alfred nods and leaves you alone with Bruce.

Now that things are calm, all of your fear and adrenaline start to fade. Bruce isn’t completely out of the woods yet, but he’ll make it. You think.

You think back to the surveillance video you saw. Dr. Crane was likely experimenting on the woman who died when Bruce showed up–and used whatever drug he had leftover on him. So it was likely it hadn’t been a full dose, especially with the way he seemed to calm down some.

It was lucky. Extremely lucky. You think about the way the force of chance, of luck, has worked in your life so far, and can’t discount this instance either.

When Bruce wakes up, you’ll give him all of the evidence he needs to get Dr. Crane arrested. You’d call Gordon now, but it’s so late it’s early. It can all wait until you know for sure Bruce is going to be alright.

Exhausted, you lean back against the pillows next to Bruce. You glance around and can’t help but laugh at the situation. Here you are, in the place you most want to be–in Bruce’s bed–in the least romantic way possible. You don’t even have permission to be here. Bruce will probably ask you to leave once he’s in his right mind again.

You turn your head to watch Bruce sleep, your own eyes heavy. You want to undo the handcuffs, but you’re afraid he’ll wake up in a panic again. Better to leave them on just in case.

Without meaning to, your breathing syncs with his. You watch his chest rise and fall and try to let the motion comfort you. You glance at the little device on his finger again and feel even better when you see that his heart rate has calmed significantly. It’s still a bit high, but it isn’t in dangerous territory anymore.

You always knew being Batman was dangerous. You’ve seen him come back injured a thousand times. A couple of times he was half-dead. But something about this was worse. Maybe because it isn’t an actual injury–it’s his own mind fighting him. His worst nightmares come to life. Bruce is the strongest person you know and seeing him brought low is like…a physical blow. It was terrifying. Bruce had always seemed so…untouchable. Like a man who was never afraid.

His fear is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your eyes slip closed as you watch him breathe. His bed is startlingly comfortable. You half-expected Bruce with his martyr complex to sleep on a brick. But this bed…this bed is definitely the kind of bed a billionaire would own.

You wake with a jolt sometime later.

Bruce is watching you. His breath catches and he lets out a long sigh. He closes his eyes and seems to gather himself.

When his eyes open again a second later, they’re wet.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice is rougher and lower than usual, like he’s been screaming. The sound of it scrapes over your skin like sandpaper.

“I’m not,” you say, still struggling to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. The room is dim. You were pretty sure the lamps had both been on but now only one is lit–and you have a blanket over you now too. Alfred must have come in at some point.

“I know, but–” He takes another deep breath. The handcuffs rattle as he shifts. “For a moment, I didn’t know if it was real.”

“What did you see?” you ask slowly. You see the handcuff key sitting on the nightstand closest to you and grab it.

Bruce shies away from you. “Don’t unlock me yet. I don’t–I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bruce,” you say. You soften towards him. He’s scared again, but it’s different. You don’t know if it’s a leftover effect of the drug or if it's his propensity for self-flagellation, but he’s afraid of hurting you. “You won’t hurt me. You didn’t even hurt me when you were drugged. You protected me. Granted, it was from nothing, but…” You flash him a smile. He doesn’t return it. “Have you been awake long?”

He ignores the joke and the question, eyes staring into the middle distance. “I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying,” he finally says as you unlock the wrist closest to you. He groans quietly as he stretches the arm out. He must be in a lot of pain from having his arms lifted for so long, but he says nothing. “I saw myself killing you. Or I saw someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me. You kept getting hurt and I was always too late to stop it.” He’s breathing hard again.

You can feel his breath on your face as you lean over him to unlock the other handcuff.

He catches your wrist and keeps you close, staring up at you. His lashes are long and dark, his blue eyes bright as stars. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away, even in his disheveled state. You still aren’t used to the sight of him.

“Y/n, do you hear what I’m saying?” he says, voice almost anguished.

And your brain finally catches up.

I saw…every variation possible of the people I love dying. I saw myself killing you. Or someone else hurting you because of me, to get to me.

You suddenly can’t breathe. People I love.

“Bruce–” All the other words get caught behind his name.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and yet again you aren’t sure what he’s sorry for. “But seeing all of that–I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you without knowing…all of it. The way I feel about you. How badly I–” He shakes his head and presses his lips together.

You want to pinch yourself. You’re still asleep, right? There’s no way in any universe that Bruce Wayne feels for you like you do for him.

But he’s including you in the list of people he loves.

You’ve been silent for too long, still hovering over Bruce. His eyes shift away, a wall coming down behind them as he shuts himself off.

“I just…wanted you to know. That’s all. I won’t mention it again.” There’s a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t…feel that way about me.”

“Bruce,” you say again, softer this time. You sit back a little. “I–I’m sorry.” He deflates a little, rubbing one wrist absently. He still isn’t looking at you. “I’m not really good with words, but I want you to know I feel the same way about you.” His gaze snaps to yours. You can feel heat creeping up your neck to settle in your cheeks. “I was so scared last night. I thought–all the other victims we knew about had died and–I couldn’t handle it if you died, too. You are…so important to me.” Your voice catches slightly.

He reaches for you, calloused hands soft as the touch of a butterfly wing against your cheek.

“Please tell me this isn’t the drug,” he says after a long moment.

You grin. “It isn’t. It makes you scared, remember? Are you scared now?”

He smiles back. The sight of it steals your breath. “I’m terrified.” But his smile only grows wider.

You lean down, very slightly, going slowly so he has time to change his mind. Because it still doesn’t feel real, doesn’t feel possible.

But Bruce stretches his neck up and closes the gap between you. His lips brush yours and you feel a relief so complete you want to melt into the bed. His other hand comes up to join the first and he cradles your face like you’re something valuable, something breakable, something to be cherished.

As his lips move against yours, your entire body seems to say, Ah, I’ve been waiting for this.

His mouth parts slightly, an invitation that you quickly take. His hands are still careful against your face, but one of yours fists around his shirt.

When you pull away, you smile at each other.

“As much as I want to stay here like this,” you murmur with another kiss pressed quickly to his mouth, “I think we should get Gordon to arrest Dr. Crane as soon as possible.”

Bruce sighs but nods. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

He laughs. “And maybe after that’s done with…we can talk more.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. “Of course. We can talk and kiss.”

Needless to say, it takes a long time for you and Bruce to get up to contact Gordon.

#battinson x reader #battinson x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #the batman #the batman 2022 #the batman x reader #the batma fanfic #fright #fright fic #bruce wayne #battinson

924 notes · View notes

w1ldthoughts · 4 months

Text

Crooked Smile

Anon requested angst

Warnings: Mention of body image issues

The veneer craze. The ozempic epidemic. This intense and overwhelming need to have a perfect smile and be super skinny, while also having an hourglass figure and a perfectly perky yet fat ass. Thanks to the BBL. You had absolutely no problem with people getting cosmetic surgeries, your body your choice, and you weren’t going to judge anyone for wanting to make themselves feel good. But it did contribute to very unhealthy beauty standards that were becoming more impossible to follow. It really didn’t help that your boyfriend was a celebrity and every function that you went to was full of women who made you feel a little (a lot) like you didn’t belong.

After the last time at Jack’s you couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked. Every time you walked past a mirror you stopped to look at yourself for a minute. Maybe you could lose a few pounds and have less midnight snacks. Maybe some Invisalign wouldn’t hurt, you knew it would but with the way you were feeling about yourself right now, you’d take the tooth pain over this crippling bout of insecurity and self doubt. You probably hadn’t analyzed yourself this much since you were in high school. This feeling wouldn’t last forever, you knew that, but sometimes you just gotta throw yourself a pity party and recharge your batteries. You were supposed to have a date night with Jack but you lied and told him you were sick and that you’d see him another time.

You knew immediately who was knocking on your door and interrupting your This Is Us rewatch, using it to distract from your own turmoil. Like fighting fire with…more fire. Using your sleeve to wipe your eyes, you sniffled and paused the devastating show to let Jack in.

“Baby, what’s wrong? I knew I should’ve come over earlier.” He immediately placed a hand on your forehead, looking you over for any other signs of distress. “You don’t feel warm. Does your stomach hurt?”

“No Jack, I’m fine.” You took his hand off of you and wrapped your arms around yourself. “Just not really feeling like myself and going out tonight just didn’t seem like the best idea.”

Jack nods, understanding the feeling. Sometimes he didn’t feel like going out either and he wasn’t about to force you to do anything, especially not with the way your shoulders were slumped and the fact that the usual light in your eyes wasn’t there. “Well, would it be okay if I sit and watch your show with you? Haven’t seen much of you lately and to be real, I miss you a little.”

The last part made you crack a smile, a genuine one. “Fine. But don’t ask me a million questions or I’m just gonna turn it off.”

“No promises.” He laughs, plopping himself down in the middle of the couch. You originally parked your body next to him but when his hands wrapped themselves around your stomach, it made you feel weird and overly exposed. Excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, you tried to mentally snap out of it, slightly embarrassed that Jack’s friends’ comments were affecting you the way they were. You walked back to the couch, settling down on one end of it, creating some space between you and your boyfriend.

“What the hell? Why are you so far away?”

“I just want my own space for a little bit, we don’t need to be up under each other every second of the day.” You didn’t even trust your own words, opting to keep it in a hushed tone.

And he called your bluff immediately, grabbing the remote to pause the show. “Look I didn’t come here to press you or anything I just—is there something going on with us? I mean you’ve barely answered my texts, you canceled our plans today and now you can’t even stand to be near me. What’s going on?”

Now you felt guilty, on top of everything else. “It’s not you Jack,” you sigh, scooting over to grab his hand in reassurance. “I really didn’t wanna do this because I don’t want this to become a thing but—something happened at your party the other night.” You feel him tense up, a slight crack in his jaw from how hard he had just gritted his teeth. “I was walking back into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and I heard Cope and Nemo talking about me. They were basically talking about how you could do so much better and how my looks aren’t up to par and it was just really shitty. And I know they’ve been at your place all week hanging out so I really just haven’t been in the headspace to be around them.”

He narrows his eyes at you and pulls his hand away. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want to cause a scene at your party, it wasn’t the time.”

“So you thought that ignoring me and isolating yourself, going on this emotional downward spiral would just what? Make it all better?”

You were taken aback by his reaction but you genuinely didn't have the energy to do this today. “Jack, my reaction or the way that I’m handling it isn’t the point. The point is that your friends were being assholes and you’re more concerned with me than with what they said about me. Why is that?”

“Because you know how they are! They get a little drunk or a little high, sometimes both and they just start spewing random shit. You can’t take them serious. And maybe you got things out of context. Did you hear the entire conversation?”

He had to be joking…right?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself before losing your mind. All you wanted today was a nice, relaxing time to find your inner peace but instead here you were. “Let me be clear, I don’t care if I walked in at the very last second of their stupid little conversation. I heard some hurtful things and I heard my name attached to them. That should be enough.”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head,“you’re just being sensitive right now, maybe your period is coming or something cause this really isn’t that deep. Like I said before, you know how they get, I’m sure it was just jokes.”

“Yeah everything may be a fucking joke to you, including my feelings.” You moved away from him, “but I don’t find any of this funny. Which is why I told you I needed some space. And you won’t even respect that.” Your voice cracks, feeling the tears stinging your eyes even though you thought you’d done enough crying today. “You think don’t I see the comments? Or hear the shit people say about me? That I’m not pretty enough or smart enough or that you could easily do so much better. I get that from complete strangers all the time. But to hear your friends say it? Your people? That hurts Jack.”

“I just really don’t think this is that big of a deal.” He tries to reason and diffuse the situation. “They probably don’t even mean any of that shit, you can’t take it to heart.”

The walls that you had built from your failed relationships in the past had been torn down by Jack, brick by brick. You felt safe with him, cared about and cared for. And in this moment, he was public enemy number one.“Do you think I’m the fucking ‘boy who cried wolf?’ I’ve NEVER said anything to you about this before and it isn’t the first time it’s happened but I didn’t want to make it a big deal. And here you are defending them, you’re supposed to be on my side?” You didn’t even notice you were yelling.

“Oh my god I am on your side!” He raises his voice, “I just think this is all one big misunderstanding and you shouldn’t get so worked up about it.”

“Oh my god you—you know what I’m not even gonna do this anymore. You win.” You stand up from your seat, not breaking eye contact with him. “Respectfully, I think you should get the fuck out. I really need to take care of myself right now and you’re not making it any better so you should probably just go.”

He remains stationary on your couch, still staring at you.

“Jack, are you losing your hearing or something? I said you need to leave. Now please.”

He stands up, walking towards you to try to pull you into his arms, “babe—”

You back away. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t try to cutesy pet name your way out of this. I told you that something happened and it hurt me and you refuse to listen so you can go. I’m done talking about it.”

The man finally takes your words seriously, grabbing his stuff and walking to the door. He closes it without another word, leaving you to think about how the hell you even got there. There isn’t even enough sadness in your body anymore to cry, you’re shaking with rage at the fact that your boyfriend chose to defend his boys over caring about your feelings. It was simple, he didn’t care about you and they definitely didn’t, so what was the point? It was time to move on.

Two days later, he was being completely ignored by you. He’d spent some time licking his wounds and was really starting to regret the way he reacted. His first instinct had always been to defend his people, his boys especially. They had been with him since he was working at Chick-fil-A and didn’t have anything remotely valuable to his name and they had never switched up on him, so why should he? And maybe that had been a part of the problem. He never told them “no” or that he didn’t like something because…that just wasn’t the relationship. They were grown men and Jack wasn’t about to tell another grown man how to act. But in this case, he probably should have listened to you and at least talked to Cope and Nemo about what they said, secretly hoping that it wasn’t as bad as you made it seem.

“Bro, I gotta talk to y’all about something. And I’m being forreal.”

Nemo sat next to him on the couch and Cope was across from him. “What’s up? You look like somebody kidnapped your dog.” Cope jokes and Nemo laughs a little, but Jack just clears his throat.

“Okay so…I need to ask y’all about the party last weekend. Y/n heard you talking about her and she was super pissed and we got into this big ass argument about it. So…what exactly was said?”

“Oh shit,” Nemo looks down at the ground. “Look bro we didn’t mean for her to hear all that—”

“But it was all facts.” Cope finishes for him. “All we said was that she’s kind of a bum and you can and should do a lot better than her. I mean the girls that we bring around and that’s who you picked? I don’t wanna judge but—”

Jack holds a hand up to stop him from continuing. “Imma be real, I don’t really give a fuck what y’all think. That’s my girl bro, like my fucking girlfriend who heard you talking shit about her and it made her feel bad. And I defended you because I thought that my best friends would be supportive and I don’t know…not shitty to someone I love? Guess that’s my bad for assuming.”

“I’m sorry, it definitely wasn’t our place to comment on your relationship. You know when that liq starts to hit—”

“Guess you didn’t fucking hear me. I said I defended your dumbasses. I basically chose y’all over her and now you’re sitting here like this shit is sweet?”

Cope tries to open his mouth but Jack cuts him off again, “Not even gonna lie I need you both outta my sight for the next couple days. I can’t believe this. And Cope, you really shouldn’t be commenting about anybody’s appearance when you permanently look like the Avatar. Think about when you’re 50 and how that’s gonna look.”

He knew he was lashing out but he couldn’t believe how wrong he was and how hard he had belittled your feelings. You two always talked about the unreal expectations for people, especially women and now he had contributed to the problem in the largest way. There was no concrete plan to remedy the situation but he damn sure had to try.

When you didn’t answer after the first four times he knocked, he thought about breaking the door down but that was a TMZ story waiting to happen. He just kept knocking and knocking until you opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

He didn’t realize how nervous he was until you were standing in front of him. “I’m so sorry. I know that won’t, that it’s not enough—I fucked up. I should’ve listened to you and I didn’t. Instead I got super defensive and didn’t want to acknowledge that my friends were being shitty and—”

“I forgive you.” You interrupt, facial expression remaining stead. “I’m over it.”

“You—you’re…over it?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I had some really hard mental health days and it sucked but I realized that I like who I am. I love who I am, actually. Crooked smile, stretch marks, love handles…whatever. It’s me and I don’t want that to change, for anyone.”

Jack smiles, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good because I was about to give you this big speech about how you’re perfect to me and for me and not to let anyone make you think any different. But it looks like you came to that conclusion on your own.”

You nod, a smirk forming on your lips. “Did you need anything else?”

“N—no. I uh…I wanted to just see if we were okay? Things got pretty heated the other night and I feel horrible for not taking your side. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You can’t contain the burst of laughter that comes out. “Sorry this isn’t funny, it's just…Jack I needed you. I needed you to believe me, to trust me, to defend me, to comfort me. Shit something—anything. But you tried to gaslight me into thinking I was dramatic when I know what I heard. And then you defended your idiot ass friends tooth and nail to the point where we were screaming at each other. I got myself out of this, I remembered who the fuck I am on my own. I remembered how beautiful and smart and worthy I am. On my own. So what the hell do I need you for? Let me answer that for you, I don’t. I don’t need you. I don’t need this. The belittling, the shit talking, the toxicity. I don’t need any of it..”

Looking him up and down, seeing the tears swimming in his eyes, a very different scene from days ago, and you shake your head. “You and I? Baby, we’re done. Have fun with the boys, you all deserve each other.”

#jack Harlow #jack Harlow imagine #jack Harlow x reader #jack Harlow fanfic #jack Harlow angst

165 notes · View notes

mcdonaldsplayground · 1 year

Text

| actually the worst | part 6

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: when you wake up somewhere you aren't supposed to be, you get angry with ao'nung for being so calm while you feel nothing but guilty for leaving your injured sister alone. as things with your family slowly begin to mend, you realize that ao'nung probably hates you again for snapping at him. only when yours and kiri's birthday rolls around do you get a chance to work out your highly complex relationship with the metkayina boy, but it's not exactly the solution you were expecting.

includes: enemies to lovers, teasing, swearing, suggestiveness, mentions of seizure/death, ao'nung being so bf🥵

word count: 5.7k

a/n: so this is the final part! if people are into the idea i was thinking of doing a lil' bonus part based on the not-memory from part 5 (where ao'nung visits the forest)🤔 but anyway, i just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and interacted with this series, i seriously cannot believe how kind everyone is🫶 i am definitely going to keep writing other fics (and might even branch out to do some other characters, who knows🤭)

this is a bit lengthy because i was trying to wrap up a bunch of loose ends. i realized when proofreading that ao'nung kind of doesn't even show up for a good portion of the middle part??? so sorry about that🫣 also i'm sorry but i couldn’t not put a 10 things i hate about you reference in here because it’s just the exact vibe at the end, so creds to that movie for the inspo:)

You woke before the sun did, the very beginnings of warm orange and pink light only barely peeking above the horizon. It was still mostly dark, and you felt extremely disoriented. Not only were you rarely an early riser, but you also rarely woke in the middle of the beach, which is where you currently seemed to be. Not only that, but a muscular arm was slung across your waist as well, pulling you close to the body who was attached to it.

Slowly, you turned your head and nearly screamed when your eyes met the sleeping form of your worst enemy-turned crush-turned sort of friend. Ao'nung looked at peace while asleep, something that did not come easy to him when awake. It would have been kind of nice to see if you weren't so horrified by the predicament.

"Jesus christ..." You muttered to yourself, the events of the previous night coming into focus in your mind. Trying not to breathe or move too much, you attempted to slowly shimmy out of Ao'nung's grasp. You had almost successfully freed yourself when the boy beside you suddenly snapped his eyes open, looking briefly confused before his own look of horror settled in. You practically jumped away from each other.

"We fell asleep." Ao'nung said dumbly.

"Great observation, genius." You snapped, pushing yourself up from the sand while you hurriedly brushed it off your skin. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally cut off your-"

"Woah! Relax, princess. Wasn't planning on it." Ao'nung held his hands up in surrender, standing as well. You stiffened at the ridiculous nickname, but decided not to get into it as you turned quickly on your heel and began jogging away from the beach. You had way more pressing things to think about now. In fact, you were growing increasingly more angry with yourself as the seconds ticked by. Were you really so delirious from fear that you let such a thing happen? Kiri needed you.. but you were selfishly allowing yourself to be consoled in the arms of a boy instead.

Ao'nung caught up to you easily, though he maintained a decent distance as he spoke. "About last night-"

"Don't." You ordered, annoyed that he wanted to talk about it and embarrassed that it even happened. "That was a mistake." You trained your eyes ahead, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Look, forest girl, I know you're probably embarrassed because-"

You cut him off once again, finally just stopping in your tracks as you whipped around to face him. "Just stop with this stupid little flirting thing right now, okay? You don't know what I'm feeling. My twin sister almost died last night and I just left her alone when nobody knows what the hell is wrong with her! She needs me there at her side and what was I doing instead? Joking around and laughing with the guy I'm supposed to hate and then waking up beside him in the middle of the goddamn beach instead of next to her!" You spat, all of your fury and guilt spewing out along with your words. Ao'nung was frozen in place, eyes wide. "Just go away." You finished forcefully, making him flinch slightly. You didn't wait to hear a response before taking off once again toward your marui.

When you finally arrived, Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Tuk were all standing around outside the marui, looking as if they hadn't slept. A fresh wave of guilt washed over you at the thought.

"[Y/N]!" Tuk called when she noticed your approaching form, racing up to cling onto your side in a sort of hug. "Where were you?" She questioned, and Neteyam and Lo'ak nodded, waiting to hear your response. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your face growing warm in shame.

"I fell asleep on the beach." You mumbled. Not technically a lie.

"We were worried..." Neteyam said, placing a hand on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes. You could tell that he suspected you were holding back the truth. Your throat burned as you swallowed thickly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," You breathed, ducking your head down.

"It's okay. I know it was difficult for you last night." Neteyam’s lips twisted into a sad smile, pulling you into a gentle hug. Tuk was quick to join, squeezing herself in between the two of you as she put her arms around your waists. Even Lo'ak came over, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and offering you a look of silent understanding. You breathed in deeply, grateful for their support and easy forgiveness.

"How is she?" You finally asked, pulling away so you could peek around Lo'ak into the marui. Neteyam sighed, guiding you over to the entrance.

"She is still asleep. Ronal had to go rest before she will be able to do anything for her." You noticed your parents sitting together inside, but you focused your attention on assessing your sleeping sister, in search of any visible injuries that may have appeared since you saw her last. Thankfully, she truly did seem physically unharmed. However, it pained you to see her eyes closed and her body so still, the only sign of life coming from the occasional rise and fall of her chest. You kneeled next to her, taking her hand.

"Wake up," You whispered. "Please."

"Where did you go?" You heard your father question from his spot on the floor. You looked up slowly, your guilt creeping back. You just stared at him and your mother for a moment, trying to work out what to say.

"It does not matter, my Jake." Your mother had caught the look in your eyes, nodding in a sort of silent understanding. "She is here now."

Jake glanced between the two of you briefly before deciding to drop it. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I called Norm and Max." Jake said. "They should be here in an hour or so. They may be able to tell us what happened" You nodded in approval, returning your gaze to your twin. It wasn’t ideal to have your family’s old friends risk the journey down here, but if it meant even a chance of helping Kiri then you knew it was more than worth it. You only wished they would get there faster.

The helicopter landing had gathered quite a crowd, all looking nervous at the prospect of "demons" arriving on the island. That was fair, but to you it was a welcome relief to see Norm and Max approaching alongside your father, their equipment in tow. You had promised not to leave Kiri's side, though, so you watched from through the door as they quickly scrambled over.

"[Y/N]!" Norm called when he noticed you, your lips twisting into a small smile. It may have been terrible circumstances, but it was still good to see your old friends.

"Hey, Norm. Max" You nodded in greeting and they both pulled you in for a short hug before starting to set things up. They wasted no time in placing sensors along Kiri's face and head, asking your family anything and everything you knew about what had happened.

Once everything was in place, they started running diagnostics and doing everything they could to get an idea of what was going on inside Kiri's head. It was a slow process, however, and ten minutes seemed to turn into an hour, then an hour into two. Still, you sat as close as you could without interfering, dividing your mind between trying to understand what Norm and Max were saying about your sister and just simply willing something to work so that Kiri would open her eyes.

"There's no bleed. There's no fracture. No effects of hypoxia. The brain looks good." Max said, shaking his head in confusion as he glanced through the scans they had taken.

"But we still have this interictal activity here in the prefrontal." Norm pointed out.

"Yes, she's definitely had a seizure." Max nodded, and you wondered how he could be so calm. You felt nauseous at the thought. As they continued their discussion, someone entered the marui behind you, and you turned to find Ronal looking outraged at the setup.

"I see that I am not needed here." Your heart dropped as she spoke, but you stood quickly, panicked as she turned to leave. You were about to say something when your mother grabbed Ronal's arm.

"You are Tshaik!" She hissed, sounding both angry and pleading. Clearly Norm and Max were running out of things to try, and Ronal was turning into your only hope. You caught her eyes, silently begging her to stay.

"Remove these things." She finally said, glaring down at Max and Norm.

"Out!" Neytiri growled. "You have done nothing!" She began picking things up and attempting to shoo the men outside.

"Come on, let's just take a break." Jake said quickly, ducking out the door.

"Okay, hold on! I have to take her IV out!" Norm said, rushing to get everything off of Kiri. You patted his arm in thanks as he made his way outside as well. Ronal was quick in getting her materials ready, beginning the process of a ritual you had never witnessed before. The air was tense as she worked, chanting and calling upon Eywa for aid. It was mesmerizing to watch her, though your focus remained primarily on your sister's face, waiting with baited breath for any sign of consciousness.

Finally, after what felt like years, Kiri's eyes fluttered. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, leaning forward to grasp her hand.

"You're awake!" You breathed happily, using your free hand to gently caress her forehead, brushing some hair out of the way. Her gaze briefly flickered around the room before she began to cry, causing your heart to clench. Tears welled in your own eyes, and you fought against them, not wanting anything to blur your vision even for a moment.

"Are you ever going to let me out of sight?" Kiri questioned playfully, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You smiled, shaking your head.

"Nope." The answer was a no-brainer. You quite literally hadn't spent a second away from your twin since she had woken up the previous day. While the rest of your family had fallen back into a semi-normal routine, you were intent upon staying with Kiri all day in the marui, even when she insisted she was feeling just fine.

"I'm not a baby, [Y/N]."

"I didn't say you were."

"Okay, but I'm not fragile either. We can't just stay holed up in here for the rest of our lives." She shot you a pointed look, growing serious.

"I know that," You sighed. "But what if I'm not there if something happens again?" The thought made your blood run cold. "I've already got enough guilt to last the rest of my life." You finished quietly, fidgeting with your fingers. Kiri's eyebrows furrowed.

"Guilt? [Y/N], what happened to me wasn't your fault. I know you think you're responsible for me, but there was nothing you could have done." She placed a hand on your arm and you looked up, meeting her eyes. "Besides, you've been hovering over me this whole time, I can guarantee that you're the world's most devoted sister." She chuckled, though you only felt worse at this, cringing a little. You had been holding in your shame for nearly two days now, and it finally came bursting to the surface in the form of a messy confession.

"I wasn't with you that night, Ki." You bit your lip before continuing. "I mean, I was, but then I started freaking out at everyone because nobody could figure out what was wrong. I only wanted to step out for a little while, just to calm down, you know?" Kiri was listening calmly, hand still resting reassuringly on your arm. "And Ao'nung was out there too, and I was crying and being hysterical and he was actually being nice for once and-"

"Oh my Eywa, he was being nice?!" Kiri's hand shot up to cover her mouth, gasping dramatically. You had to pause to process the fact that she wasn't being serious.

"Very funny, skxawng." You deadpanned. "This is serious!"

"Okay, okay, sorry!" She chuckled. "Please, continue."

"Well.. Actually that's pretty much it. Being around him was like this escape from reality, and I didn't want to go back home because I knew that meant having to think about what would happen if you- If you didn't make it or something." You swallowed thickly.

"Okay... so that's all? The moral of the story is that Ao'nung isn't as much of a douchebag as you thought?"

"No." You huffed. "The moral of the story is that I was being a selfish jerk who didn't bother to check on my sister all night because I was sleeping on the beach next to the aforementioned not-douchebag." Kiri's expression twisted into surprise briefly before she burst out laughing. The colour in your cheeks deepened.

"So I just bare my heart to you and all you can do is laugh at my stupidity?" You groaned, laying your back against the floor as you threw an arm over your eyes. However, Kiri's lighthearted reaction was making you feel a lot better. If she wasn't mad at you then maybe you didn’t have to feel so bad.

"Sorry," Kiri managed between laughs, eventually moving to lay down beside you when she gained some composure. "I just think you’re way too hard on yourself. I mean, sure, falling asleep alone with Ao'nung was a little scandalous, but you didn't really do anything wrong." She turned to her side to face you, propping up on her elbow. You did the same.

"I left you alone." You whispered, and her expression shifted into sympathy.

"You left me with our family, [Y/N]. You left because you needed help. It isn't a crime to react poorly when you're scared." The look she gave you was effective in melting the last of your guilt away, relieving some of the long-held tension in your muscles. You smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Ki." And she smiled too, both of you taking in the quiet moment together. With Kiri, that moment didn't last too long.

"So, are you and Ao'nung exclusive now, or what?" She grinned as you rolled your eyes.

"Definitely not. Actually... I kind of snapped at him yesterday. Told him that night was a mistake and to leave me alone."

"What! Did you mean alone or alone, alone?" She questioned while you furrowed your brow in confusion.

"I guess at the time I meant alone, alone. I was really mad." You grimaced, remembering the look on Ao'nung's face after you had yelled at him.

"But you didn't mean it?"

"Well, no, I guess not." You shrugged. "But maybe it's a good thing, Ki. Everything that's ever happened between us has been so crazy and messy. It's probably for the best that we just stop trying to be... anything. Friends or otherwise." The words felt like a knife in the gut. You stared down at the ground, trying to convince yourself that you were right.

"You don't mean that." Kiri chided, her brow furrowing as she searched your eyes. "I know we always tease you, but I actually thought you really liked being around him."

I do. You thought painfully. I really do.

"It doesn't matter. He probably hates me now, for real this time." Your eyes darkened at the thought.

The arrival of your birthday was both exciting and deeply irritating. On one hand, you loved that you got to celebrate Kiri, and this time around felt extra special because of what she had just survived only days earlier. It was sort of a celebration of her recovery as well as her birthday. That being said, you hated the fact that people also insisted on celebrating you as well. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the sentiment, but something about having everyone’s attention on you, showering you with an abundance of love and affection, was just not your thing.

So, when Tuk accidentally let it slip to you and Kiri that there was going to be a surprise party with everyone in the village invited, it was safe to say you were mortified. You had taken the entirety of the afternoon to sit in the sand by yourself and contemplate the best way to avoid the large gathering at all costs.

“You’re not getting out of this, you know.” Neteyam arrived silently from behind you, shooting you a pointed look as he sat down. “Mom and dad have this whole thing planned out. They even got Tonowari and Ronal on board.”

You groaned. “So that’s why this stupid thing is a community event?”

“Tonowari seemed strangely excited to make it into a big celebration.” Neteyam chuckled. “He kept talking about how it’s going to be so much fun to have music and dancing and a whole bunch of food and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Why do you insist on torturing me?” You moaned dramatically while Neteyam just laughed.

“Where was Kiri just now?” You changed the subject quickly when you noticed her returning from the village, coming from the opposite direction of your family’s marui. She had told you she was going to nap before the party.

“Oh- um- nowhere.” Neteyam was a notoriously bad liar. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything, you noticed Lo’ak, Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao’nung appear behind your sister, seemingly following her somewhere. They didn’t seem to notice where you sat, suspiciously watching them go by.

“Okay, what the hell?” You fixed your gaze back on your oldest brother, waiting for an explanation. You knew he had one because he was flushed, clearly trying not to act suspicious.

“I’m not allowed to tell you anything.” He admitted, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Fine.” It took everything in you not to keep badgering him. He may not have been a good liar, but he was not one to tell other people’s secrets. “But if I find out that it has anything to do with my birthday, I’m going to kill you and Lo’ak.”

“What! But it was Kiri’s idea!” Neteyam said offendedly.

“And you and Lo’ak were stupid enough to go along with it,” You quipped. “Plus, it’s her birthday. It’s just bad manners to kill someone on their birthday.”

Neteyam laughed. “Okay, crazy. But it’s your birthday too, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” You scowled.

“[Y/N]!” Your father called from behind you and Neteyam, squinting in the sunlight as his gaze fixed on the two of you. “Come! We need to get going soon!” He beckoned you over with a hand gesture and you sighed, allowing Neteyam to help pull you upright. You dragged your feet as you walked, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

“Neteyam, will you please get Kiri and Lo’ak?” Jake asked when you got closer, and the boy obediently dashed off in the other direction. Your fingers twitched as you thought about following.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake laughed, throwing his arm across your shoulders as if to keep you on path with him. You rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

By the time everyone in your family had been rounded up, the sun had started to sink below the horizon. The darkness was anticipated, however, as a large glowing bonfire had been lit on the sand, casting a surprising amount of light all along the beach. Thankfully, the festivities had begun without any mention of you or Kiri, so you relaxed a little and tried to stay out of the middle of things. It felt more like a community get-together than a birthday party, to which you were grateful. You even started enjoying yourself a bit, eating some of the wonderful food as you soaked in the warmth of the fire and focused on the music through the chatter of the crowd.

“[Y/N]!” You heard someone call and you ripped your gaze from the fire, looking around. Tsireya stood a few feet away, smiling as she held out her hand toward you. “We’ve been looking for you! Come stand with us!” She beckoned, and you tried not to look reluctant as you followed her over to where your friends and siblings were. They had formed a sort of circle and were talking and laughing animatedly as you took a spot between Tsireya and Kiri.

Ao’nung was standing almost directly across from you while he talked with Rotxo, and it was hard to keep yourself from staring at him through the fire light. You'd seen him around the village over the past week, but neither of you had approached the other at all. He hadn’t even looked your way once in that time, which put a tiny crack in your heart. You missed the way he used to devour you with his eyes, the resulting feeling both intimidating and electrifying at the same time.

Just when you were about to look away, he abruptly turned and met your gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and you convinced yourself you imagined it as the ghost of a smirk played at his lips. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. So much for missing that feeling.

“[Y/N]?” Kiri nudged you, effectively snapping you out of it. Colour rose to your cheeks, particularly when you didn’t feel Ao’nung’s gaze leave you even as you turned toward Kiri.

“Hm?”

“I said are you having fun?” She was clearly trying to hold in a laugh. You narrowed your eyes.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.” You admitted after a few seconds of silence, glancing around the beach. As your head swivelled, you confirmed through peripheral vision that Ao’nung was still staring at you, though he was now talking casually with Lo’ak and Rotxo. You shivered slightly.

“No one’s wished me happy birthday yet, so I would call that a win.” You smiled a bit, but quickly dropped it when Kiri gave you a nervous grin.

“Don’t kill me, but I overheard dad saying that Tonowari was going to-” As if she had spoken it into existence, Tonowari suddenly called out a request for everyone to quiet down, stepping forward into the middle of the beach, glowing in the firelight.

“My people!” He grinned, spreading his hands wide in greeting. “I am glad to see everyone enjoying tonight’s festivities. While we need no reason to come together and celebrate, I do want to speak on what the celebration tonight is in honour of.” Your heart dropped out of your chest and flopped around pitifully on the sand. Tonowari turned to where you and Kiri stood, grinning widely as he beckoned for the two of you to stand by him. Kiri grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly. While she smiled and accepted the spotlight gracefully, you imagined your expression resembled dread mixed with painful awkwardness. It was all you could do not to visibly cringe at the hundreds of eyes trained on you. However, only one pair really seemed to pierce directly into you, the intensity of it reminding you of the day you had first arrived here. Just like that day, he appeared to be seeing something about you that no one else was allowed to. It offered you a strange sort of steadiness.

“First, I would like to thank Eywa for the recovery of this young woman!” Tonowari placed a gentle hand on your sister’s shoulder. “We celebrate her health tonight.” You managed a small smile as everyone cheered, sharing a look with Kiri. You gripped her hand a little bit tighter. “And, of course, we thank Eywa for bringing the Sully family here to us. It is hard to accept change, but this has been a welcome one indeed. Join me in celebrating [Y/N] and Kiri on this wonderful day in which they were born!” You could hardly hear the cheers of the crowd as your cheeks burned and your heart pounded in your ears. As grateful as you felt, you didn’t think you could handle the attention much longer. Thankfully, Kiri nodded at Tonowari in thanks and lead you back to your friend group. Your brothers were cackling, practically beside themselves with laughter.

“Y-your face! Oh Eywa that was priceless!” Lo’ak howled. You glared, sticking out your tongue.

“Shut it, dickhead. Just because I don’t enjoy being stared at-” You didn’t get to finish as your brothers loudly cracked up again, holding their stomachs. Even Kiri, Tsireya, and Rotxo couldn’t contain themselves as they joined in. You grinned, shaking your head. “You guys are terrible. I’m going to find Tuk.” You spun on your heel, still laughing to yourself.

You skirted along the outside of the crowd, scanning for your youngest sister, when a hand suddenly grasped your arm, tugging you into the shadows of the trees, out of sight.

“What the hell are you-” You paused upon seeing who was holding onto you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, forest girl.” His eyes danced with a playfulness that you had missed, causing a skip in your heartbeat.

“Ao’nung I-” You were gearing up to apologize. You hadn’t planned on doing so, but you found it impossible not to as you stood across from him.

“Shh. Just follow me.” He turned, sliding his hold on your wrist down to lace his fingers with yours. You stiffened, eyes wide as you stared down at your interlocked hands. “Come on, freak!” He smirked, ignoring your confusion as he impatiently tugged you along. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at one of the little alcoves off the side of the island, just far enough away that you could no longer see the party on the beach and could only faintly hear it in the background over the soft lapping of the waves. You had been in this area plenty of times before, but you had never seen it at night. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The alcove was cave-like in a way, with large slabs of rock surrounding you and tucking the two of you mostly out of sight. There was little of the glowing vegetation that typically lit up the night on the island, but it didn’t matter because what looked like thousands of tiny glowing stars were embedded in the rock around you, effectively giving the illusion of standing directly next to the sky. You gawked, unable to tear your eyes away from such a magnificent sight.

“I heard you saying that you don’t like people staring.” Ao’nung broke the silence, chuckling a little at your awe. “I figured there’s no one to do that here,” He paused, smirking. “Except me.”

You flushed, remembering the delicate way he was still gripping your hand.

“I though you hated me again.” You said quietly.

“I do hate you.” Your heart dropped at his words, but for some reason he stepped closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face.

“I hate you because of your stupid smile that makes my hands all sweaty. I hate you because you’re the only one who puts up a fight when I tease you. I hate you because you actually drive me insane sometimes, and I hate you because I never know if you want to kiss me or kill me.” He grinned. “But mostly I hate that I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.”

This felt like a fever dream. You held your breath as if you were going to wake up any second. But you remained where you were, frozen in uncertainty. It seemed the worst time to tease him, so of course, that’s what you did.

“I think you’re drooling.” You whispered, still not entirely sure how to move or think properly in the wake of his confession. He only huffed, ducking down close to your ear in one fluid motion. His warm breath fanned across your throat as he spoke.

“This is what I’m talking about, skxawng. Your inability to be nice,” You hadn’t realized he’d been slowly inching the two of you toward the wall of stone until he gently pressed you into it, one hand moving to grip your waist while the other flattened against the wall next to your head, the only thing holding him up over you. “It's driving me crazy.” The air felt like it had been sucked entirely out of the space between you, both of your chests rising and falling quickly. Despite the way his touch set you on fire, you had goosebumps from the proximity. Everything around you was charged with tension as Ao’nung finally tipped his head back away from your ear, staring at you so hard his pupils were dilated.

“Don’t you want me to apologize for yelling at you the other day?” Your voice came out small, though you’d gained a little confidence. All the time you'd spent convincing yourself that Ao’nung didn’t like you the way liked him was clearly wasted. His ears bent slightly as he smirked.

“Not with words.”

Oh.

“Oh?” You quirked an eyebrow, your breath hitching as Ao’nung pressed closer yet, almost every possible inch of you touching except for your heads, mere millimetres apart. The tension was so delicious that you almost didn’t want to break it.

You broke it anyway, closing the gap between you as you pressed your mouth to his, nearly gasping at the contact. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up, you thought fleetingly, your knees nearly giving out. Your lips fit together perfectly, moving in sync as he looped both arms around you, cinching you to him like he wished for you to meld together. Your hands roamed his chest, eventually making their way up to his neck, feeling the soft baby hairs there and making him groan into the kiss. You smiled.

“Happy birthday, [Y/N].” He whispered against your lips, smirking slightly. Your knees felt weak again. Just when he began pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, something made you both freeze.

“Ewwwwwwww!” Someone who sounded suspiciously like Tuk squealed, followed by a fake retching noise that you often heard Lo’ak make. You whipped your head around, searching through the darkness outside of the alcove, Ao’nung’s grip on you relaxing a bit but not letting go.

“Just get out of these stupid bushes, guys. They know we’re here.” Neteyam grumbled, and finally everyone came into view from the greenery they had been hiding in. You gaped. Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Rotxo, Tsireya, and Lo’ak were all there.

“Oh my Eywa, tell me you did not just see all of that!” You gasped, fighting the urge to rip out of Ao’nung’s grasp. In response, Lo’ak grinned before putting on a stupid face.

“Oh, [Y/N]. I hate that I don’t hate you! Oh, Ao’nung, don’t you want me to apologize?” His imitation of your voices was horrendous. “Not with words… mwah mwah mwah…” Lo’ak had wrapped his arms around himself and turned around, crudely imitating a kiss. Tsireya smacked him on the shoulder, giving him a look, though her and the others were holding back laughter.

“Why the hell did you follow us here?” You questioned angrily before remembering the earlier events of the day. You snapped your head toward Neteyam.

“Is this what they were planning earlier?!” You raged, about to stomp over to him to give him a piece of your mind. Ao’nung pulled you back.

“Yes. Your sister explained to me how you were feeling and said she wanted to help me make peace with you. We all came up with the idea to take you here to talk and get away from all of your birthday stuff.” He paused, assessing your still fuming expression. “But I swear I didn’t know they were going to come spy on us!” He hissed, glaring at everyone.

“It’s not our fault you two decided to start sucking face!” Lo’ak cried.

“We just wanted to see if you guys would apologize and be friends again.” Kiri piped up, and you knew she was telling the truth. You softened.

“Well, I guess it worked.” You shook your head, smiling in spite of yourself. Beside you, Ao’nung smiled too, a real, genuine smile. Lo’ak made another gagging noise.

“Literally kill me. You guys are disgusting. Can’t you just go back to being frenemies or something?”

“Lo’ak, if you keep being a moron then I’m going to have to tell mom and dad about what you and Tsireya get up to when-”

“Okay, okay! Geez! Why does everyone have to know my business, damn!”

Everyone laughed and began turning toward the party, slowly making their way back. You and Ao’nung trailed behind, his arm slung around your waist as you walked.

“So how does it feel to be with the most attractive guy in the world?” He smirked cockily. You just scoffed.

“I wouldn’t know.” You earned a playful shove from him, laughing.

“You’re actually the worst.” Ao’nung grinned, shaking his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“An annoying little brat, then.”

You gasped, faking offence. “Rude!”

“That’s what you love about me.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Mm, nope. Don’t think so.” You concluded, laughing loudly as Ao’nung growled playfully, stopping both of you in your tracks. He turned toward you, capturing your face entirely in his large hands.

“Take it back.”

“No thanks.” You grinned arrogantly.

“C’mon, love. Just admit that you can’t get enough of me.” You shivered at the nickname, and he smirked. That stupid little smirk. It had gotten you into a whole world of trouble. But maybe it was worth it?

He leaned in, pressing a quick, but heated kiss to your lips.

Yes, definitely worth it.

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld @in-luvais @perseny @minkyungseokie @acrobatcheeks @theblaxkbird @sakura-onesan @gengarmylove @srrybroo @abcdasf11 @trulynotavailable @dreamergirljen @ipoopedmypants47 @hangezoes-wife @scarletrosesposts @kaealowri @eggnox

920 notes · View notes

riality-check · 11 months

Text

daisy jones-adjacent. probably one part left after this, if all goes well. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 in case you missed them. tw substance abuse & alcoholism. yeehaw.

ao3

Steve doesn't kick them out, but the band silently makes the decision to crash at his place less often. Eddie didn't tell them what happened; they just knew. It's always been like that with them. Always in sync. Eddie is so glad he hasn't lost that with them.

He is, inexplicably, terrified of losing Steve.

He shouldn't be. He hasn't known him for very long at all. they fight like hell half the time. He smokes more when he's around him because being near Steve means being near the things Eddie swears not to touch again.

It hasn't been very long at all, but Eddie knows him. Knows what he likes and doesn't like, knows how to get under his skin and how to make him laugh that laugh of his. Knows that didn't write or play or sing half as well as he did before Steve.

He knows that he'll keep sharing a mic with him. Even when there are extras. even when there's no reason to. Even when he can start smelling alcohol on Steve's breath.

Eddie is terrified of losing Steve. It's getting harder and harder to be around him.

He wants to say that he only sees himself in Steve, but that would be a lie. Eddie can't ignore the obvious similarities, but part of the reason he did what he did was to get away from himself, from the fear of being inadequate. And sure, Steve is running from something that terrifies him so bad he can't sleep and wakes up screaming other people's names when he does.

But Eddie finds himself running to Steve, and that's dangerous.

They record the album over shared mics and frequent cigarette breaks and laughter and the collaboration of young, talented people with young, smart management making fantastic art.

And then they do the article with Rolling Stone.

It's written by Nancy Wheeler. Eddie loves working with her. She's brilliant and asks unconventional interview questions. She's also, apparently, Steve's friend.

Same with the photographer, Jonathan Byers. He's Nancy's boyfriend, her working partner, and, apparently, also Steve's friend.

Eddie wonders where they've been while Steve has gotten like this before he reminds himself just how unfair of a question that is to ask.

It's clear they're trying. Nancy pulls Steve aside at one point. Eddie watches them argue, hears the name "Robin" get thrown around along with "you need to talk to her" and "I don't want her to come all the way out here."

Eddie, for once, decides to mind his business.

He has to admit that the way Steve can pull himself together for this is amazing. He's almost perfectly coherent in the interview, and he looks almost sober while they're taking the pictures.

Eddie watches him bring his hand to his mouth three times during the whole thing.

He wonders what he's taking. He nearly asks for some.

He sees Nancy watching, too. If she's a good friend, she won't write about that. Or maybe she will.

Eddie doesn't know what a good friend is supposed to do in this situation. He just knows what he has to do, and that's not think about it.

He's smoking more. Chrissy doesn't even comment on it.

He wonders if this is one of those things only he notices because of his personal experience or if it's just an open secret. He doesn't know which would be better.

The article comes out a week later and drums up good press for the album, which is released a week after that.

But what really steals the show is The Picture.

There are a few pictures set within the pages of the article, but only one is The Picture.

All of them are lined up in front of a road, backs to the beach. Steve is in the middle with Jeff on one side of him and Eddie on the other, Gareth and Archie on the ends of their little line.

And it is incredibly obvious that there is something different between Steve and Eddie than there is between anyone else.

People are going to talk, which is good. People are going to talk, which is dangerous.

Eddie wishes he had Chrissy's "all press is good press" mentality.

But by the time he really, truly starts to worry about it, it's been weeks since he's been with Steve outside of any professional setting and time for tour.

Eddie is fucking terrified of tour. The rules make it easier:

Don't go to the after parties.

Don't stay on the bus.

Don't accept anything from fans.

Call someone.

Buy your own damn cigarettes.

The rules should help. Eddie thinks Steve could blow them up like he's already blown up his expectations and creative process.

Tour starts off fine. The bus is like it always is - lively and full of chatter. The fans are like they always are - fiercely supportive and screaming for more. The music is like it's always been - only much, much better this time around.

And Steve is high every time he goes out onstage.

It's fine, really. He's not nearly as bad as Eddie used to be. He isn't forgetting words, and he still sounds good, so it's fine. He's functional.

Eddie doesn't think anyone else notices. Steve covers it up so well that Eddie can only recognize the signs from personal experience.

He makes sure he doesn't spend any time with Steve offstage. It doesn't matter that Steve looks wounded every time Eddie makes an excuse to go somewhere else.

He calls Wayne more often. He walks around the cities they perform in, saying hello to the people who recognize him and politely refusing their offers to buy him drinks.

Anything is better than the possibility of Steve taking something in front of him or offering Eddie a drink. Because if it's Steve offering, Eddie won't say no.

That's terrifying. It's dangerous.

But it's fine. Eddie is doing what he's supposed to do. He's coping. He's dealing with it and not making anyone else walk on eggshells around him.

And then they get to Chicago.

Eddie loves Chicago. It's not his favorite city - that's a tie between St. Louis and Phoenix - but it's definitely up there. It's got good energy and enthusiastic fans and great sights.

After their first night there, Eddie walks around the city until he's tired enough to go to sleep. He gets back to the hotel at 3 AM.

Fifteen minutes later, someone knocks on his door.

And, like an idiot, Eddie answers it in pajamas.

Steve is outside. Swaying back and forth. Smiling. And holding a bottle of vodka.

Eddie wants some.

No the fuck he doesn't.

"This isn't your room," he says, trying to keep quiet. Trying to tear his eyes away from the bottle.

Just a sip.

No.

"Sorry," Steve slurs. "Lost my key. Couldn't remember."

Like a bigger idiot, Eddie sighs and lets him in.

He helps Steve set the bottle down on the dresser. Gets him to his bed without falling over and waking up Jeff. Helps take off his shoes.

Knows from experience that if Steve is this sloshed and still standing, he's probably blacked out.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Eddie mutters.

Steve Harrington should have everything. He has a fantastic career, ample talent, adoring fans, friends, and a boatload of money. He should be happy.

Instead, he's wasting the cash and his life.

"Figured out if I drink enough, I don't have nightmares," Steve says. "Didn't want to wake anyone else up on tour."

Eddie stops where he's untying Steve's shoe. "What do you have nightmares about?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he says, standing up.

Steve makes direct eye contact and says, slurred together, "A monster came out of the walls at Jonathan Byers's house. I helped him and Nancy Wheeler kill it. Next year, it came back. Will Byers got possessed, they built tunnels under the town, and I had to kill more monsters to protect some kids after I got the shit beat out of me. That summer, I got kidnapped and tortured with Robin."

Eddie just. Stares.

"I think I just broke all my NDAs," Steve mumbles.

What. The. Fuck.

When Eddie can form words again, he says, "Steve, you're drunk."

"I am. But I'm not a liar."

Eddie doesn't know what to say, and he's sure it's written clear all over his face.

What the hell.

"Told you you wouldn't believe me," Steve says. He takes off his shirt and lays on his side, on top of the covers, facing away from Eddie.

Yeah. Guess that conversation is over.

So, Eddie turns away and immediately spots the bottle of vodka, right where he left it on top of the dresser.

Before he can stop himself, he picks it up.

It's open. He doesn't take a sip, but he can smell it. He stands there and holds it and knows that if he moves his arm, it won't be to put it down.

Eddie hasn't held a bottle in two years.

He can't put it down.

Just a sip.

No.

Like an asshole, he walks a few feet and turns on a lamp to wake up Jeff.

"What the hell?" he mumbles.

Steve, meanwhile, has already started to snore.

Eddie can't find any words.

"Oh, shit," Jeff says, sitting up. "Eddie, you didn't-"

"I didn't," he says. "I promise I didn't. I can't put it down."

Jeff frowns, confused.

"I can't put it down," Eddie whispers desperately.

"Okay," Jeff says.

And without saying anything else, he gets up, takes the bottle, and goes to the bathroom.

Eddie closes his eyes and tries to breathe as he hears it go down the drain.

What a waste.

No.

It's fine. He's sober. He's fine.

Jeff comes back after a few seconds. There wasn't that much left. He looks over at the other bed, the bed that's supposed to be Eddie's, and sighs. "You can share with me."

Eddie shakes his head. "It's fine. I'll make sure he doesn't... I'll make sure he's safe."

"He's not good for you."

"I know. But I'll be okay."

"We want him out," Jeff says.

"What?"

Jeff rubs his eyes. It's 3:30 AM. "We've been talking. He's hurting you, Eddie."

"We're the best we've ever been."

"At what cost?"

"Where would we be if you did that to me?" Eddie demands. "If you threw me out at my lowest?"

Jeff sighs again.

"End of the tour," Eddie says. "Let's get through this."

"We'll talk about it in the morning."

"But-"

"I'm tired, Eddie," Jeff says, already getting back in bed. "Morning."

Eddie swallows his words back and nods. This is a morning conversation.

He gets into bed, under the covers next to Steve, and falls asleep quick.

When he wakes up for the first time, Steve's arms are around him. When he wakes up for good, the bed is cold and empty.

He tries not to feel too disappointed.

Everything Eddie has a tendency to love fits one of two criteria:

It hurts him.

It's unattainable.

It's too damn bad that Steve is both.

#ria writes #dja au #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #tw substance abuse #tw alcoholism #tw drugs #rockstar eddie munson

263 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Little Runaway Part 6

Oh my god!! You guys are fantastic everyone!! I just wanted remind people that I have little practical experience with the show outside of meta and fanfics and gifs. As fully explained here. But I love everyone’s response to this story. It’s one of the earliest stories I wrote before I got further involved in fandom. So if you want to DM if you think something is off that’s fine, I’d love to chat! Also I have hit the tag limit, so if you want to see more, follow away!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Steve was in Eddie’s room reading the book he borrowed when there was a knock on the door of the trailer. He frowned. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to open the door when Eddie or Wayne weren’t home.

“Steve Harrington if you don’t open this door I swear to god I will let out the air on your tires!” Max yelled.

Steve went rushing to the door and threw it open. “Jesus Christ! Don’t yell my name.”

He dragged her inside and pushed her the direction of the couch.

“You want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Max asked, sitting down. “You go missing for two weeks and come to find out you’ve been hiding out here. Everyone is worried about you!”

Steve sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Came out to my dad as liking boys, he beat the shit out of me and if he finds me, he’ll probably kill me. And I don’t mean in the nice parent way either.”

Max nodded. She knew better than almost anyone else what that was like. “So why here?”

“You think my dad would think to look here?” Steve scoffed.

She cocked her head. “Yeah, all right.”

“You really can’t tell anyone I’m here,” Steve pleaded. “Not even Will or Mike or any of them. It’s bad enough Dustin knows.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because my dad isn’t above beating up children to get them to tell him what he wants to hear.”

Max took that in for a moment. “Okay. Fine.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Fine. I get it. You know I do. Wait, is that why Dustin stopped by in the middle of the night last week? Was that about you?” Steve nodded. She pursed her lips. “Okay, but you may want to move your car.”

“Shit,” he cursed. “Yeah. If you found it, my dad might, too.” He ran his fingers over his face. And then he got an idea.

“I know that face,” Max said. “That’s your ‘I have a dumb plan’ face.”

He looked over at her sidelong. “You could move it for me.”

She thought about it for a moment. “You’d trust me with your car?”

“You’re a better driver than most people with licenses,” Steve told her. “I learned that first hand.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Just then Eddie came home and stopped short, looking at the unruly teenager on his sofa.

“Red,” he greeted coldly.

“She’s cool,” Steve told him.

“You two know each other?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She saved my life once,” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“Hell yeah, I did,” Max replied with a grin.

“She is also the only one of the nuggets that knows to keep her mouth shut,” Steve said.

Her grin got bigger.

“Hey, Steve,” Eddie said, “your dad showed up to the session today.”

And suddenly all the light teasing joy between Max and Steve exited the trailer is a roaring gush.

“Holy fuck!” Steve said. “Is everyone okay? No one got hurt, did they?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Eddie said with a reassuring smile. “I sent him packing with his tail between his legs.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and a happy, almost delirious smile spread across his face. “You did?”

Eddie shrugged, shoving his thumbs into his back pockets. “I gave him a Munson tirade special. He left in a hurry after that.”

“Huh.” Steve bit back the next words that would have tumbled from his lips if Max hadn’t been there. I could kiss you! He blushed and scratched his cheek in embarrassment.

“I should get going,” Max said. “Take care of yourself, Steve. Or at least let someone else do it for if you can’t.” She patted him on the shoulder as she passed.

Steve stopped her at the door. “Hey, take care of it for me.” And tossed her his car keys. She caught them and then saluted. With a smile on her face she walked out the trailer, a skip in her step.

“She saved your life?” Eddie asked, deeply concerned.

“I got a really bad concussion, like out for a long time bad,” Steve said. “She was the one that was able to drive me to get help.” He gulped and looked down at his feet. “I think she learned because of her mom.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “Yeah, yeah. I can see that.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “Another unfortunate side effect of tonight: everyone at Hellfire knows your dad beat you and not just two weeks ago.”

Steve dropped his between shoulders and let out a shuddering breath. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know that. And now everyone did. “I don’t want their pity.” The words came out as a hiss.

Eddie came up to him and put his hands on Steve’s biceps, rubbing his arms up and down. “I’m afraid it was Dustin that let that out of the bag. He was just so terrified that he might have been the cause of your dad beating you that I said that it wasn’t his fault, that your dad was a grade bastard and had been for a while.”

Steve pinched his nose and nodded. “It not your fault or his. If it goes to trial what he did to me, everyone was going to find out anyway.”

Eddie nodded.

“I think I would die if anyone started being nice to me because they knew what he did to me,” Steve whispered. “I don’t want to be treated differently because I abused.”

“What’s wrong with a little sympathy?” Eddie asked.

“I acted the way I did, not because my dad is an asshole, but because I was.”

Eddie sighed. “Look, I’m going to say this only once and if you tell anyone else, I will tell everyone that you drool when you sleep, do you hear me?”

Steve nodded again.

“Right, you were never a bully, Steve,” Eddie continued.

“But I–” Steve said.

“No, Steve,” Eddie said. “You were a kid trying to fit in with the wrong crowd. You never pushed anyone down, you never called people names in the hallway. Did you stand aside and let Tommy do that shit? Sure. But, dude. That was never you.”

“How-how do you know?”

“Because fundamentals don’t change, Steve,” Eddie said earnestly. “If a good person does bad things it eats them up inside. They will try to fix it if they can, but often times they feel like nothing they could do would be enough. But bad people? They don’t give a shit who they hurt. Because seeing someone else get hurt, that makes them feel good.” He leaned down so he could see Steve’s face. “Which one are you?”

Steve looked up into those beautiful brown eyes and took a deep breath that rattled in his chest. “I’m a good person?”

“Hell yeah, you are,” Eddie said, straightening up. He pulled him in for a hug and held him close. And if he felt his shirt getting wet, he certainly wasn’t going to tell.

On Monday he ran into Robin Buckley who looked like she was going to murder someone, most likely him.

“Oi!” she said calling him over. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he tried to back away but she was faster.

“Hey!” she said grabbing him. “What the hell? I was told you know where Steve is and you will tell me what I need to know.”

“Jesus H Christ!” he hissed and tugged her toward the van and threw her in the back. He got in behind her and slammed the door. “Are you trying to get Steve killed?”

“What?” she asked, blinking at him rapidly.

“Steve’s dad is trying to find him and here you are yelling out on the street that I know where he is?” Eddie snarled. “Fucking hell.”

She got quiet. “I thought that was just a rumor. There’s also a rumor that you kidnapped him and are holding him for ransom.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “Why the fuck is it always me?”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“All right who told?” Eddie snarled. “Because if there is going to be a murder in this town it’s going to be me against whoever told that I knew where Steve is.”

“I don’t know, but pretty much the whole town knows now,” Robin murmured.

“Shit I don’t know where to go,” Eddie said, feeling his panic rising. “I need you to get to Dustin. Let him know that Steve’s dad knows about me and to warn Steve.” He pressed his hand to mouth, trying to fight down the bile that coated his throat.

His eyes caught a bag of weed and he got an idea. He licked his lips. “If you see my uncle Wayne, tell him I’m sorry.” He opened the door and pushed her out.

Before she could protest he slammed the door and hopped into the driver’s seat.

Fuck.

Part 7 Epilogue

Tag List: @tauntedperfume @marivictal @eddiemunsonswife @namelessssho @dbquills @goodolefashionedloverboi @steve-the-hairrington @sadcanadianwinter @yearningagain @books-are-my-life-since-1996 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @homohomohoe @knightofthieves @flusteredcas @moonage-daydreaming @goblin-eddie @marvelousforlife @silversnaffles @satan-is-obsessed @yikes-a-bee

For some reason there are about four of you it won’t let me tag properly. Please check your settings if you wanted to be tagged and it didn’t so I can make sure you get the notification.

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #gay steve harrington #abuse tw #ladykailtiha writes

422 notes · View notes

ghostofskywalker · 1 year

Text

Not Just For Show

Echo/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,924

Summary: While on a mission for the Republic, you and Echo get a lot closer than originally expected. You're definitely not complaining though, because his lips are really soft.

Prompts: "you're a horrible liar" and "who cares what they all think?"

Note: this fic is part of the @cloneficgiftexchange, which i ran! these prompts came from @fives-lover, and i hope you enjoy my interpretation :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

“Do you see anything?” you asked as you leaned in closer to Echo, voice pitched low so you wouldn’t catch the attention of any prying ears. There was a consistent buzz throughout the room of the bar, and your eyes moved along the perimeter of it, taking in the different people who were supposedly here to have a good time.

He shook his head. “No, and I doubt that we’re going to be able to find what we’re looking for if we stay in this booth all night.”

As your partner for this mission, Echo was also keenly aware that if the two of you did not figure out where the leaking of Republic intel was coming from (and sources say it was coming from this bar), then it would set the rest of the mission back indefinitely, as well as put the lives of countless clones, Jedi, and other officers at risk. You had been assigned to work together to figure out who was selling these secrets, making sure that they were caught and that one less danger was weighing on the shoulders of those fighting for an important cause.

You nodded, knowing that he was right. “Should we split up then? You take one side of the room and I’ll take the other?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

With one more shared look, you slipped out of the booth and began to circle the perimeter of the room, keeping your eye out for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Thankfully the bar was on your side of things, so you were able to stop and get yourself something to drink without taking your eyes off the other patrons for too long.

But even after splitting up and spending some time wandering around, you were still at a loss for who might be the one selling Republic secrets. All the intel pointed towards this place and this night, so where were the signs? You caught Echo’s eye from across the room, and the look on his face tipped you off that he was faring no better than you right now.

He looked strikingly attractive right now, even all the way across the room. You had never seen any of the clones without their armor before, and the civvie clothes that had been picked out for him were certainly flattering in a way that plastoid plates weren’t. The pants and shirt fit him like a glove, which you supposed was a side effect of working in an army full of identical men: you didn’t have to worry about things not fitting as much as you would with an army full of people of different shapes and sizes.

Get you mind out of the gutter, that little annoying voice in your head said. You’re on a mission right now, you can’t keep thinking about how much you want to kiss your fellow operative.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to be dreaming about Echo like this in the middle of a mission, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. He didn’t know how you felt about him, no one did, but lately those feelings had only been growing, and it was only a matter of time before someone wised up and figured it out. This was one of the only times you would get to see him like this without any of the 501st watching, so you fully intended to stare at him for as long as you could get away for it.

The comm device on your wrist flashed a new message from Captain Rex, asking if you were having any success yet. You quickly responded in the negative before walking over to Echo. “We have to figure something else out,” he said. “This isn’t working.”

You nodded as an idea popped into your head, and you grabbed his hand before you could stop yourself. “Come on,” you said, pulling him in the direction of the dancefloor. “Maybe a more central location will help us figure something out.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Echo asked as you stopped and turned towards him. The feeling of his hand in yours was enough to make you want to melt right then and there, but you managed to keep your legs standing.

It must have been the liquor in the drink you ordered, because your response was a lot bolder than you usually would have been. “What? You’re saying you don’t want to dance with me?”

“More like I’m saying I have two left feet,” he said, but your encouraging smile finally had him moving closer and starting to sway along to the music.

You thought the feeling of his hand in yours was perfect, but it was already being dwarfed by the feeling of his hand on your waist. You were trying to see what was going on around the bar, but the smell of Echo’s soap was distracting, and you were starting to regret this choice of cover. Because while one part of you was shouting with glee and telling you to lean in and kiss him, there was another part of you that was desperately trying to focus on the task at and.

“Echo,” you said after a few moments of dancing with him. “You’re horrible liar, you know that?”

“What?’ Echo looked affronted and confused, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from you.

“You definitely don’t have two left feet,” you said.

“I will have to disagree with you there,” he said. “Dancing has always been Fives’ thing more than mine, I always felt more awkward at 79’s than anything else.”

“And do you feel awkward now?”

Echo paused before responding. “No, but this is different. It’s always easier to be someone else when you know it’s all for show.”

You nodded, only slightly pained at the implication that he was only dancing with you to keep up the ruse, and not because he actually wanted to. “Nice to know I mean that much to you then, trooper.”

Echo’s eyes widened as he realized how his words sounded. “No!” he said. “I wasn’t trying- I didn’t mean- I just-”

You laughed again, and his face relaxed a little. “Don’t worry,” you said. “I’m only busting your shebs, I know what you meant.”

He let out a comedic sigh of relief, and you couldn’t help the way your smile grew. “If it means anything,” he said. “I think the reason my dancing isn’t so terrible right now is because you’re here.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without stepping on someone’s foot while dancing,” he said. “And I can’t help but wonder if it’s because you’re so good at this.”

Your brain was practically mush right now, there was no coming back from this. “I think you’re just underestimate yourself,” you managed to get out.

Whatever Echo was going to say would have to wait, because you spotted a shifty-looking Rodian man over his shoulder. You didn’t even need to say anything before Echo caught on, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Do you see something?”

You nodded, watching as the man looked around the room and then headed in the direction of the side door. “Follow me,” you whispered back, grabbing Echo’s hand and moving towards the exit.

“You know,” his voice was soft as he walked next to you. “With the show we just put on while dancing, people around here are going to talk.”

“So?” you asked, the glint in your eye telling him that you absolutely knew what people would assume. “Who cares what they all think?”

By the time you got out the side door, the Rodian wasn’t in your view any longer, but you could hear muffled voices just around the corner.

“What are we going to do?” Echo whispered urgently. “It’s not like we can walk into view and say we’re looking for Republic secrets!”

Truth be told, you hadn’t exactly thought about that yet. And once you did start thinking about it, you realized that you had another issue: even out of his armor, Echo was pretty kriffing recognizable as a clone trooper. But you didn’t really have time to really think this whole thing out, especially not as you realized the voices were getting closer and closer to where you were.

“Echo,” you whispered as you stared at him. “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to play along.”

He nodded, and even though you wished you had more time to fill him in on the plan, you didn’t. You placed both your hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, situating yourself so that you covered him as much as you possibly could.

Thankfully, Echo seemed to realize what was happening, and he played along as he placed his hands on your waist, holding you close to him. Yes, this was all for show, and yes, this was really nothing but chaste kiss of disguise, but there was something about the feeling of his lips against yours that you found exhilarating.

You could hear mutters around you as the Rodian and whoever he was speaking to passed you by, but you didn’t move. As long as he didn’t realize you were onto him, he could judge whatever he thought you were doing out here all he wanted.

When the coast was clear and the door to the bar was swinging shut, you pulled away from Echo. Trying to ignore the way his lips looked slightly swollen and the way his eyes held an emotion you couldn’t quite place, you had to get back to business. “We need to contact Rex,” you said. “I think we have our guy.”

Echo just nodded, and you quickly sent Rex the description of the Rodian, as well as the few snippets of conversation that you heard right before you got a little, ahem, distracted. Since this was only a reconnaissance mission, technically your job was done and all you had to do was wait for someone to pick you both and take you back to the Resolute.

What was going to happen now? Had you crossed a line when you kissed him? The thoughts ran rampant in your brain, and you knew that everything had changed when your lips touched his. “Look, I don’t want to make things weird between us now,” you said.

Echo looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Because I kissed you,” you said. “I know we’ll just let everything go back to normal and-”

You were definitely not expecting for him to cut you off. “What if I don’t want things to go back to normal?”

Resisting the urge to pinch yourself (so you could decide whether or not this was really happening), you just stared at him. “What?”

“I really like you,” he admitted quietly. “And I would really like to kiss you for real, not just when we need to hide my face and blend in.”

“I really like you too,” you said, desperately hoping that this wasn’t some amazing dream that you would wake up from any second. “And I’d also really like to kiss you again.”

He obliged almost immediately, and no more words were exchanged between that moment and the time that Jesse and Fives picked you up on a speeder and headed back to the Resolute. As you wrapped your arms around Echo’s waist and held on, you couldn’t help but feel excited about where your new relationship was going to go.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#CFGE23 #clone trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo #arc trooper echo x you #echo x reader #echo x you #echo x female reader #clone trooper x reader #clone wars fanfiction #star wars x reader

149 notes · View notes

sirowsky · 1 year

Text

Clumsy Heart

I'm back with yet another thing that I wasn't supposed to be working on, and yet another Pero one shot. But, the procrastination demon is holding me hostage, so the writing goes where it goes and I bumblingly follow.

I'm dedicating this one to the wonderful @myfavpedrothings who was kind enough to help give me some inspiration when mine was nonexistent <3

Description: You and Pero are housemates and just friends when he comes home and kisses you one day, which unavoidably changes things.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero x female reader (no description), fake dating, friends to lovers, no y/n, minor angst, takes place at Christmas-time but not heavily holiday-themed. Word Count: 3352

Author’s Masterlist

-=<>=-=<>=-=<¤>=-=<>=-=<>=-

You were in the middle of baking your fourth batch of Christmas goodies when you heard the front door open and what sounded like more than one person walking in. Even as you kept carefully spritzing the gingerbread cookies, your ears pricked, because it was extremely unusual for your housemate to bring anyone home. Pero was quite the difficult man to piece together, and strangers generally shied away from him, so the only people that he occasionally showed up with were probably paid for.

That didn’t bother you, though. He was entitled to feed his needs like everyone else. What you felt was pity that no one seemed to want to look closer at him, because he really was very sweet when he wanted to be, and you felt certain that for the right person, he’d be like that all the time. The problem there was that he also didn’t let anyone look too closely at him. There was a tall and thick wall around him that you’d only gotten to peer over a handful of times.

You heard low and muffled voices coming from the hall, which only further surprised you, because he’d never brought any men back before. It was usually inebriated young women who giggled incessantly and much too loud. Still, it didn’t bother you. For the simple reason that what you always heard from his room on those occasions, told you that he was much too rough of a lover for you to ever be with. And that made it very easy to not even think of him like that.

Pero was your friend, maybe even your best friend, because he never lied or tried to deceive you. Granted, he didn’t talk much to begin with, but whenever he did, the things he said were always forthright. He didn’t take hints or respond at all to anything but direct and honest communication, and you loved that about him. Because there was such a comfort in knowing that even if you managed to offend him or even piss him off, he would still appreciate your honesty and quickly let it go.

You didn’t look up from your cookies as the men walked into the kitchen, waiting to be invited into their conversation instead of just adding yourself to it. It might be a shared household but that didn’t mean that everything he did automatically concerned you. A courtesy that he always extended to your activities as well, although that might just be due to a complete disinterest on his part.

“Hola, querida,” you suddenly heard his most honey-drizzled tone of voice right by your ear, startling you into looking up.

And he was just an inch from your face, giving you no time to even react before his lips were on yours. It was brief and seemingly casual, the kind of kiss that people in long-term relationships gave each other in greeting, which utterly befuddled you. Because that was far from anything that you’d ever been to one another.

“Ay, more gingerbread, Galleta?” he hummed as he pulled back, trying to keep sounding completely casual and relaxed, but to your ears, there was uncertainty hidden within the words. “Keep this up, and we will soon drown.”

Hearing his normal pet-name for you made your mind break out of the confused haze, letting you think clearly. And what you thought was that something had to be rattling him. Something significant enough that he was willing to use deception to try and escape it. And the only thing that was different from his usual routine, the only cause that you could link it to, was the unknown man that had stepped into the kitchen behind him.

He was slightly shorter and had a smaller body-type than Pero, although he looked fit. And to be fair, everyone that stood next to your housemate’s impressive shoulder-breadth, looked small. The stranger’s eyes were blue, but while you felt like he was probably a kind man at heart, something about the lines around his mouth and brows made you think of harshness and battlefields and anger.

You knew that Pero had a difficult past, filled with loss and death, poverty at times, and a lot of loneliness, so it wasn’t hard to imagine that this man had played a part somewhere in that story. But whoever he was, what mattered was that your friend was obviously deeply affected by his presence, so instead of telling him off, you played along.

“Well, I’m planning on gifting most of it to the Helping Hands foundation’s Christmas dinner for the homeless, so you can relax,” you chirped, deliberately patting his dark shirt with your flour-covered hands, before returning to the poor cookie that had been ruined when the shock had made you drop the spritz.

“Who’s your friend?” you asked while getting back to your baking, still not paying the stranger any direct attention until you knew more about him.

“Yes, uh… This is William. He’s an old brother in arms,” Pero offered, obviously holding back details on purpose.

He trusted you not to ask, not to pry, and you weren’t going to. Whatever this was about, it was clearly rocking him to his core, so if he needed you to just play his partner right now, then that’s what you would do. There’d be time for answers later.

“Nice to meet you, William. Pero calls me Cookie, or Galleta, for obvious reasons,” you chuckled, gesturing to the small army of brown little figures that were littering every flat surface of the kitchen.

“He always did like to call things as they were,” the stranger said, and there was something in his expression that made you feel like there might be some old quarrels sitting between the two men.

“Are you staying for dinner, William?” you asked, hoping to give yourself some time to map out a gameplan for how to keep up this lie, if it turned out that you’d have to spend the evening with him.

“No, no…” the stranger shook his head, smiling a little nervously. “I’m just passing through and happened to run into Tovar, I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“Oh, okay. Well, it was nice to meet you,” you smiled in return, and then refocused on your spritz while Pero offered to show William out.

But once the men had left the room, curiosity got the better of you and you snuck after them, eavesdropping out of sight as they reached the front door.

“It really was good to see you, man,” you heard the stranger say while presumably patting Pero’s shoulder.

You didn’t dare to peek around the corner at them, so you couldn’t tell if anything unspoken passed between them, but you noticed that your housemate didn’t reply, which seemed to sadden the guest.

“Look, I know that there’s a lot of water under our bridge, but I want you to know that I don’t care about any of that anymore. It was a different time, we need to move on,” William said, and after a long pause, you heard Pero sigh.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hm. I guess I should’ve known better than to expect you to let go of a grudge,” the stranger chuckled in a warm, but slightly ironic tone.

“It was never in my nature,” Pero admitted. “But… it was still good to see you.”

Neither man spoke again after that, and moments later, William left. You didn’t bother trying to conceal that you’d eavesdropped, and instead walked out into the hall once you heard that the door had closed.

“What was that about?” you calmly demanded, while slowly approaching your friend, who immediately looked so ashamed that he could barely even meet your eyes.

“Something stupid… I just wanted to-… I didn’t know how to explain…” he fumbled, apparently utterly befuddled himself.

“Explain what to who?” you gently pressed, while he started treading on the spot, which you knew meant that he would soon either get himself riled up, or just leave.

“Nothing,” he said, using the word like a sword, hoping that it would cut this conversation off and that he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

But the man had kissed you. No way in hell were you just gonna let that hang between you like some dead fish, getting smellier by the minute. So, you stood your ground, challenging him not with words, but with a physical representation of stubbornness, which was crossing your arms and levelling your feet to the floor. Rooted, unmoving, but still demanding.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, keeping his eyes on his own feet, and you could tell from his general behavior that he was talking about the kiss.

But this time, one of his rare admissions of wrongdoing wasn’t enough.

“Pero… you kissed me. No matter what that man was to you, do you really expect me to settle for no explanation at all, after you used me like that?” you accused, and saw him flinch with the realization that you were right.

He lifted his head and met your eyes, and then the two of you just stood there for a long moment, while you waited for him to make a decision. He could either suffer the potential embarrassment of whatever it was that he was withholding, or he could endure your anger for however long you might choose to torture him. Neither option seemed to appeal to him, but in the end, he apparently decided that your friendship was too important to gamble with.

“I’ve known Will ever since we were boys,” he started, once more averting his gaze, but also starting to walk back towards the kitchen, so you followed and listened closely. “We went to school together, were in the army together, always stayed close to each other. But honestly, I couldn’t say if it was because of friendship or just habit.”

“How do you mean?” you asked, just as you got back to work with your cookies, giving him the freedom of not having you staring at him as he explained.

“Neither of us had anyone else,” he shrugged, but you heard a streak of sadness in the words. “So, we just… endured each other, no matter how angry we sometimes got or how bad things were from time to time. And then I got injured, badly enough that I was discharged from the army, and once we weren’t in the same place anymore, whatever friendship there might’ve been… just ended.”

“But then, why did he come here today? What was this about?” you questioned, pausing your work to meet his eyes again.

You almost instantly regretted it, though. Because he suddenly looked so broken. You’d seen him angry, disappointed and even sad, but you’d never seen him look like he might be wishing that he had never lived. That whatever pain he was feeling was somehow heavier than anything that the joys of life could ever lift him away from.

“I just ran into him in the street. Out of the blue,” he said, but he seemed a thousand miles away, looking at the kitchen window but seeing some other place and time. “He was smiling and happy, greeted me like nothing had happened. After I was discharged, he never called, never came to see me, and then he’s suddenly standing there acting like we’re still friends, and I just…”

“Froze?” you suggested when he didn’t pick up the thread again.

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to say. And then he starts telling me about his life, how he’s married and has three kids now, and how happy he is to finally have learned the meaning of life. Then, right after that little speech, he wants to know how I’m doing, and I realize that all I can tell him is that I have nothing but a roof over my head. That I have only one friend in the entire world, and only because I saved her life and because she somehow tolerates being around me.”

He was back to looking ashamed by the end of that, and you felt like there was such defeat hanging over his shoulders. As though William had somehow won, or bested him, even though no competition had been entered by either of them. And suddenly, you understood exactly why he’d kissed you.

“You told him that I was your partner, didn’t you? Because you couldn’t bear the thought of him pitying you. Of him thinking of you as being such a failure at life that you hadn’t even found someone to love,” you guessed, and he nodded meekly, refusing to look at you anymore.

Seeing that pain in him, that apparent conviction that he was indeed a failure and that he would never know what it was to have a loving family, really hurt you. So much that it was something of a shock to your system. You’d always cared about him and always wanted him to be happy, but you’d also resigned yourself to the understanding that you would never be able to help him with that. For the simple reason that he would never let you.

But what if he’d been thinking the same thing?

You were the one that had suggested buying a house together, fully expecting him to laugh or tell you that you were being stupid, only to be met by silent contemplation instead. Soon followed by an agreement, to your absolute amazement. Still, you’d assumed that he’d just found it to be a mutually beneficial deal, certain that he’d eventually pull out of it and disappear, since he really hadn’t seemed like a domestic type of person.

That was four years ago, so clearly, you’d been mistaken. And that was now making you wonder what else you might’ve misread about him. But more importantly, it was also making you rethink your own feelings. If he’d stayed with you for reasons beyond simplicity and comfort then maybe it was because he cared about you a lot more than you’d ever dared to imagine. And if so, you needed to figure out how you felt about that.

First though, you’d need to figure out if you were even on the right track here. This was all just guesswork, after all.

“Pero…” you started, but then trailed off, trying to think of a way to ask what you needed to ask without putting too much pressure on him.

This was quite possibly the only time that this topic would ever come up between you, and while you were aware that it could potentially break your friendship up, you had to know what he was feeling. It was too big of a thing to have gnawing at the back of your mind for the rest of your life.

“Why did you agree to buy a house with me?” you finally asked, keeping your voice soft to make sure that he wouldn’t feel like you were questioning his motives.

He shifted a little uncomfortably where he stood, but when he lifted his head and met your eyes again, he looked unimpressed and a little bored, which was his normal state of being.

“Because you asked,” he shrugged, trying to sound aloof but not quite managing it.

“I think there’s more to it than that,” you carefully pressed, feeling your cheeks begin to warm for some reason.

“You think so, hm?” he scoffed and then suddenly he was right in front of you, making himself look big, trying to crowd you and make you back off. “It makes no difference why, Galleta. If you don’t want me here anymore, just say so.”

He was almost leaning over you, but you knew what this was about, so you held your ground. For whatever reason, this topic was making him extremely uncomfortable, and the only way that he knew how to deal with feelings like that, was to try and kill the conversation. He was trying to scare you into leaving it alone, which only confirmed that this was something that the two of you needed to talk about.

“I do want you here, and you know that,” you calmly countered, reminding him that it took more than a little bullying to scare you. “I’d just like to know why that kiss felt so intimate and comfortable when we’ve never been anywhere close to a relationship like that. Tell me why it felt like you loved that entire moment, getting to pretend that we were together?”

Your words brought his fragile resolve to a breaking point, you could see that in his eyes. That there was something he desperately wanted to say, or ask for, but was utterly terrified of at the same time. He was locked in the same position, mere inches away from you, trying to keep the mask in place, trying to convince himself that there was some simple way out of this.

“Becau-…” he started, but then stopped himself when something inside of him shifted.

In the fraction of a second before his eyes closed, you could see how some strong emotion took hold of him, and it was like watching a dam break. Suddenly he was trembling, pinching his eyes shut and trying his damnedest to turn away from you, but something wouldn’t let him. And right then, you knew.

He loved you.

All this time, he’d stayed with you, hoping that you’d somehow figure it out so that he’d never have to have this conversation, because it was just too scary for him to even consider. What you had mistook for arrogance, or at the very least, a seriously skewed perspective of friendship, had always been his way of protecting himself from admitting his true feelings and risk rejection.

In a single second, your mind went through every memory you had of him, re-evaluating everything he’d ever said and done around you, and it all made so much sense that it made you feel dense for not realizing it sooner. But what about you? You still hadn’t thought about what you felt, or wanted. And now that you tried, you couldn’t find any answers.

Not until he opened his eyes again, drawing a jagged breath before letting you see the tears in them, the fear and the self-doubts that all burned him from the inside. Seeing that made your mind go blank, because suddenly your heart was too loud. It screamed everything that your brain was unable to decipher, forcing you to feel every pinch of sadness that you’d felt whenever Pero had brought other women home.

Every time that you’d subconsciously asked yourself why you needed to confirm to yourself that he was entitled to do that. Or felt ugly just because he hadn’t complimented a particularly nice outfit, even though you’d known that he wouldn’t. There were so many moments, such an abundance of evidence that was now telling you exactly how much denial you’d been in, just like him.

But no more. This was where it would end, because he was right there in front of you, silently offering you everything that he had to give, if you could just muster the courage to take it. You’d survived a lot in your life but finding that courage was somehow harder than anything you’d ever done. It was, however, also the most rewarding decision that you would ever make.

You’d found his preferences as a lover to be somewhat frightening from afar, but as it turned out, what you’d heard had been the sounds of a man that was trying to enjoy himself without passion. And what he became when he was able to live out his desires with someone that he had deep and meaningful feelings for, was something worthy of the most beautiful poetry.

Forgive me if I stumble and fall for I know not how to love too well I am clumsy and my words do not form as I wish So let me kiss you instead and let my lips paint for you all the pictures that my clumsy heart cannot.

--Atticus

>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<

Part 2

Thank you for reading and I wish you a happy 2023! If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging so that others might find it as well <3

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell @bilibiche @harriedandharassed @shadesofnerdlygrace @little-mrs-morales @hotchlover @gallowsjoker @cosmicbreathe @criminalmind1927 @meadowofsinfulthoughts

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero x reader #friends to lovers #fake dating #the great wall modern au #modern!au #sirowsky stories

122 notes · View notes

knickynoo · 1 year

Note

(*knocks on your tumblr door and sidles in*) What do you think Doc would've done had Marty actually faded out of existence at the dance and never showed up to meet him at the DeLorean?

The way you start your asks always amuses me.

So, I thought about this a little bit, and here are my thoughts...

• After checking his watch and realizing how late Marty is, Doc probably would have stood at the curb, staring down the road and waiting. Eventually, though, he would come to the conclusion that something had gone horribly wrong. After waiting until the absolute last possible second (just in case Marty did show up in the nick of time to catch the lightning) he'd race his way over to the dance.

• Doc would enter the gymnasium to see crowds of panicking people on account of many of them had just witnessed an entire person blinking out of existence right there on the stage. It could very likely be a state of mass pandemonium.

• For real, though, what would happen to all those students and The Starlighters if Marty had just vanished? Part of me wonders if maybe there'd be an instantaneous Men in Black "neuralyzer" effect where they'd all have any memory of Marty wiped from their brains. Like, maybe he'd fade and everybody would just keep on dancing and the band would continue playing as if he'd never been there in the first place. Of course, this would also mean Doc's memory would be wiped, which would be a real tricky situation. (I'm ignoring paradoxes for the time being because I think the protective "bubble" would mean things Marty had changed would still stay in place for at least a little while longer.)

• Following that route, there would be evidence of Marty's existence and his influence all over town, but nobody would be able to remember who had done all those things. It'd be like, "Oh, yeah, Biff's car got wrecked the other day when...hmm. You know, I can't remember how it happened, actually. Weird." Maybe George would recall feeling a very strange "push" toward Lorraine all throughout that week, but it'd be nothing more than a vague feeling. This would be a fun thing to explore with Doc, though, seeing as he'd have the most evidence surrounding him but wouldn't be able to actually remember Marty or picture his face. It'd be really cool if he slowly pieced things together, though. The DeLorean, the extra clothes at home that definitely aren't his, etc. He could conceivably get to a place of, "Someone important was here from the future, and I was supposed to get him home, but the plan obviously failed."

• Going the other route, where there isn't any memory alteration, I definitely think Doc would walk into chaos. But he'd get a pretty solid idea of what happened at overhearing everybody shouting about the boy who disappeared in the middle of Earth Angel.

• Doc would then be tasked with scrambling to get George and Lorraine together in the coming days and before any catastrophes occurred time-continuum wise. I mean, even if potential paradoxes aren't an issue, what would he do? Just move on with the knowledge that this kid he just spent a whole week with will never exist?

• This mission could also go one of two ways. One: Doc meddling "behind the scenes" for days on end and manipulating George and Lorraine from afar to get them to reconcile and seal things with a kiss. (I assume Marty faded in this scenario because George didn't go back for Lorraine after Mark Dixon stole her away on the dance floor)

Two: Doc taking the very direct approach of just telling George and Lorraine what happened. Explaining to them that Marty had disappeared because he was from the future and surprise! He's their son. They have to get together to ensure his and his siblings' existence. George would absolutely believe this immediately. Lorraine might take some convincing, but I think she'd come around. Then, she'd be super weirded out, embarrassed, horrified, etc. But I think once things sunk in, she and George would be able to get their relationship back on track.

• Obviously, this whole scenario makes things complicated when factoring in what would then happen when 1985 rolled back around. He'd have to either ensure that Marty never travels back in time (because he had missed the lightning strike and been erased)—the less likely option—or he'd have to do something to leave instructions for his past self, detailing how vital it is that George and Lorraine kiss on that dance floor and that Marty makes it to the clocktower. Perhaps this could be in the form of a letter left in the car that his '55 self could then find upon Marty's arrival. Idk what '55 Doc would be able to do to make sure George mustered up the last boost of confidence needed to go back for Lorraine, but he would have to figure something out.

• I am once again ignoring paradoxes since the trilogy ignores them as well. Doc and Marty change and undo so many things and the universe never explodes, so I'm going to assume all this meddling in the above scenario would work out somehow.

This ended up being far longer than I anticipated—ya girl cannot control her rambling. To be honest, I don't even know if it all makes any sense. Was fun to write, though. Thanks for the ask!

#asks #back to the future #bttf

39 notes · View notes

baby-girl-e · 2 years

Text

Cherry Wine

Tag List

Part 2

Characters - Phoenix x F!Reader

Summary - reader realizes her feelings for her childhood but convinces herself she’s out of her league.

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Fluff, Kissing

A/N - As most of my fics happen, this idea came to me in the middle of the night! If you like this, keep an eye out for a potential part two. Even if this crashes and burns and nobody likes it I’ll still probably write more because I write because I want to and it’s incredibly Therapeutic!

Growing up nothing made sense without Natasha around. You never had as much fun when she wasn’t there, always leaving early from the parties she didn’t attend. You had known each other since you were in elementary school, clicking the minute she moved in. She made you laugh more than any of your other friends, and you just seemed to get each other. For the longest time you thought that was all she was to you, a good friend. A good friend that you never wanted to part with. It wasn’t until she told you she was joining the navy that you finally realized how you really felt. Shit. You loved her, and she was leaving. You were obviously enthusiastically supportive of her decision, this was the perfect job for her. She was always destined to escape this small town, figuring she would outgrow it at some point.

If you were being honest you had outgrown the town yourself, just didn’t quite have an out at the same time she did. That is until you got an offer to apprentice with a famous painter that had agreed to take you under his wing and teach you more than you could’ve learned going to art school. Painting has always been a comfort to you, being able to express how you felt without needing to use words. You could even channel your feelings about Natasha into them as well. One of your most successful paintings was actually inspired by her. It was an oil piece that depicted a faceless dark haired woman looking up into the sky. You had decided on a whim to enter it into a competition at a festival and ended up winning first place. You had a couple of offers to sell the painting (more than a couple honestly) but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sell a piece that meant so much to you.

The painter who offered you an apprenticeship was actually one of the people who wanted to buy the painting, but when you refused his astounding amount of money solely for the fact that this painting meant so much to you, he knew he had found a true artist. That was how you found yourself with your bags packed and a one way ticket to San Diego. You got lucky when your now boss had told you where his studio was, heart warming at being so close to where Natasha was currently stationed. The two of you kept in touch and she said that after an extremely dangerous mission that almost took her life they offered her a choice of either staying or going somewhere else. She loved San Diego too much to leave it, and wanted to finally put some roots somewhere after years of traveling.

Boarding your flight, your hands were shaking with anticipation. You were finally getting to live the life you’ve always wanted, close to the woman you loved and painting with a famous artist. The painting part was going to be the easy part. What about when you saw Natasha again? How were you supposed to act around her? Like you weren’t enthralled by every little thing she did? You liked to think positively, but you also liked to think logically. She was so far out of your league that it was almost ridiculous that you’d even be friends. She was always traveling, seeing new places, and she was a god damned navy aviator. She was the full package, beautiful, smart, and dangerously talented. You couldn’t help but feel highly inadequate speaking to her, let alone fantasize the idea that you two could ever be lovers. You shook the thoughts from your head and carried on boarding.

The flight itself was short, given you lived only a few states away. Your new boss had set you up in one of the apartments he owned claiming he needed you to focus on your work and getting another job to pay for living expenses would be a distraction. After you argued with him for a minute, it was settled that he would let you live in the apartment and pay for your living expenses. You were never much of a negotiator and he seemed hellbent on supporting you. God knew he could afford it and never knew the difference. To put it into perspective, just one of his paintings could go for at least a year's worth of living expenses, and that’s being conservative.

The rest of your things were being driven out by your sister and her husband in a week, so you made do with what you brought with you. After you unpacked the small amount of things you did have, you decided you wanted to go to the beach with your camera. It was nearing sunset and you were near giddy to get some good reference shots for a landscape piece that your boss wanted to work on with you. You threw on a light yellow sundress, sandals and a white cardigan thrown over the crossbody bag you always had. Once you felt confident about your outfit choice you headed out to the nearest beach. The walk there was pleasant and fairly quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the city around you. It gave you time to think over how you would tell Natasha that you were here. You had been meaning to every time you talked, but the words always escaped you. It was almost like you wanted to live in your bubble of fantasy, fearing that reality might pop it.

When you snapped out of your reverie you realized you had definitely made it to the beach, people scattered here and there, the day obviously winding down. You immediately pulled out your camera and started snapping shots of the ocean and the sunset above it. You made your way closer to the ocean, taking off your shoes to be more comfortable. Feeling like you had enough pictures of this particular part of the ocean, you let the camera hang from the strap around your neck. You walk a little further before you come across a rowdy bunch of friends that seem to be playing some game of football. They looked so happy and carefree in the sunset so you snapped a few shots of the group. It wasn’t until you put the camera down once more that you realized that you recognized one of the players. How could you ever not recognize someone that beautiful. She looked different here, more carefree, more sure of herself. You were about to make your quick exit, not wanting to disturb her or the fantasy you had built, when you heard your name being called by the Pilot in question. She was now actively running towards you at a speed you didn’t know was possible in the sand, so you made a quick choice to cap your lens and carefully set your stuff down before she all but tackled you. Your heart was soaring at being at the receiving end of one of her hugs again. Her hands were gripping your back like she was afraid you’d float away if she let go for even a second. “What are you doing here Y/N?” She was breathless and you blamed it on the fact that she had just stopped playing a game to sprint towards you. “I live here now, just got in today.” She pulls back just slightly to see your face and oh. You forgot how easy it was to get lost in her eyes. All this time you thought you were painting a picture of her in your head. You thought you had amplified everything to put her on a pedestal, but clearly you were wrong. “Like permanently?” You try to form a word but all of your energy is being put into not looking at her lips, knowing if you did your heart would take over and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tasting them, so you just nod. She smiles at that and it looks like she’s considering something. She always had that look when she was trying to decide if a risky move was worth it.

One time when you were in elementary school the two of you had found a tall dirt hill and you just so happened to be on your bikes, so you both ran your bikes up the hill and stopped at the top. You weren’t sure but when you looked over to Natasha she had that same look, like she really wanted to do something but was weighing out her options. You’re brought back to the present by Natasha apparently making her decision because her lips were on yours. You were shocked to say the least but the second your brain caught up with what was happening you were kissing her back. Everytime you imagined what this would feel like you never actually got it right apparently. You never imagined the way she takes your bottom lip between hers like she wanted to keep it. You never imagined the way she shyly slipped her tongue past your lips to explore your mouth further. Your arms ended up around her neck as hers pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. Eventually the need to breathe became apparent and you pulled away to be slightly chased by her lips having a mind of their own. You pressed your forehead against hers and closed your eyes tightly. “Nat, that was..” You weren’t sure what you were going to say honestly. How can you describe a kiss that nearly stopped your heart? “A long time coming?” You let out a breathless laugh and grin.

God how long had it been since you were this happy? Never? “I promised myself Y/N, up in that cockpit when I had escaped the dogfight with my life, that the minute I saw you I would tell you how I felt. That I’ve loved you for a really long time, I just didn’t notice until it was too late.” Your unfocused and dazed eyes caught hers at that, “It was never too late Nat, I’ve loved you for a really long time too.” Her eyes started to water and you realized just how much time you’ve wasted thinking that she just saw you as a friend. Suddenly you were kissing again. This time it was mixed with tears and smiles but you could care less because it still tasted sweeter than cherry wine.

#phoenix x reader #phoenix #natasha trace #natasha #top gun maverick #girls who kiss girls #lesbianlove #saphic #girlswholovegirls

244 notes · View notes

foundfamilynonsense · 1 year

Text

One un-acknowledged part of queer bating is like. Sometimes tv shows try to queer bait and accidentally create the perfect aroace character.

Like Will from Stranger Things is the perfect aroace character. Season three is just him looking around and discovering all his friends are in relationships and he’s like what the hell? We’re still kids? Let’s just play dungeons and dragons like we used to?

And Mike says we all have girlfriends it’s not our fault you don’t like girls. And people call him the f-word bc of course they do. Bc he doesn’t like girls. And he’s harassed for that. And he knows he’s different. The fact he doesn’t like boys either doesn’t even matter.

And then in season four he draws this heartfelt picture where his old friend group is back together. And he’s telling Mike “you’re the heart” as in “you’re what keeps the group together. The group works through you. Without you, we aren’t friends anymore.” Bc he just moved away and he’s desperate to keep his friend group and he knows it will stay together as long as Mike keeps it together. But that’s such a close and personal and intimate conversation and guys are not supposed to acknowledge that they need their friends so badly. And what happens after he finally works up the courage? Mike goes back to talking about his girlfriend, because that’s all Will’s friends seem to care about anymore. And what was the point anyway? Mike’s only there to see El. He wouldn’t have even bothered to visit Will.

Now. Is this what the writers wanted us to take from these scenes? No. They wanted us to take that Will is gay and in love with Mike. But they don’t have the balls to come out with it so they accidentally create the perfect aroace character and plot line. Plot line about your friends “growing up” and getting crushes while you stay put. About spending hours and weeks and months trying to formulate how your friend group could stay together and realizing this one person is the load bearing friend. And then having it not matter, bc having crushes is natural for them.

But obviously the writers aren’t on our side. And the queer community isn’t on our side either bc this is so obviously pointing towards a mlm relationship and why are we trying to get in the way?

And that’s the tricky part with me and obvious queerbait. It’s that I feel like I can either see what I naturally see: a plot line that mirrors my own adolescent experience better than any other.

Or I can stand by the queer community and say of course Will loves Mike. That is what the writing is trying to get us to realize. And the fact that that the writers are doing it in bad faith with no plan to follow through is homophobic and wrong.

And of course I stand by people who want Will to be canonically gay and in love with Mike. But I also remember when I was in middle school/ just starting high school and my friend group was falling apart. And I decided that this one girl could keep us together. So I got attached to her. And this one girl started pushing me away. Probably because she thought I was gay and had feelings for her. Or just because she decided I wasn’t what she wanted anymore. And I remember sobbing over that, because these friends were all I had. Just them and my family. Bc I knew even then romance wasn’t really an option for me. And that’s so beautiful shown in Will’s story.

Too bad that’s not what I, as a member of the queer community, am supposed to think of this character. I’m supposed to be angry at queerbaiting. But… where else could I get stories like this if not from queerbaiting? Who else is telling such heart breaking stories about losing a friend when they start dating? Where else will I get such perfect aroace characters in popular media?

#aromantic #asexual #aroace #aro #ace #queerbaiting #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things

31 notes · View notes

seashellcosmos · 6 months

Note

I am asking way too many questions, but after reading the new chapter, something completely unrelated to that popped into me head.

Like, I kinda ship Kijo and Jin as a joke. So I was wondering if you could maybe show us a little about what their relationship was like? Like, before and after the fic. It doesn't have to be much, but I would love to get some interacting between the two since I doubt we'll be ever getting that :D

It’s complicated. Like the short answer is that any form of their relationship- professional, platonic, or anything else- would be so dang complicated because both of them are high functioning disasters

Before the fic it was definitely strictly professional, it was a “you’re funding a lot of this project and you have connections to everyone I work under and the government sector overseeing this so I am obligated to update you” sorta thing from Kirigiri’s perspective, and I imagine Togami’s opinion of him didn’t go much further than thinking he’s at least semi-competent and efficient.

They interacted more towards the project’s end, because it wasn’t exactly an abrupt ending and there were a million things that would need to be covered up and loose ends that needed to be fixed if Jin’s plans to just send the kids away instead of… completely getting rid of them was supposed to work. That’s where Kijo got more involved in the project itself, and coincidentally worked with Jin more directly.

They’d start talking personally more when Togami took in Byakuya (and the mobile security system for HP, he has a lot of enemies and it would be a shame for something that advanced to go to waste), getting a kid that can make things float with his mind is something that’s going to take some professional assistance. Jin supplied him with the suppressants for Byakuya’s enhancement, and probably stopped by and called frequently just to make sure everything was going okay. Lots of meetings in the office, introducing Jin as a vague ‘business partner’, etc.

But Jin had fifteen kids he was keeping tabs on throughout the years, so overtime their communication would grow infrequent and scattered… until Junko’s plans kicked off that is.

Kijo trusted Jin’s plans, like legitimately trusted him, so learning (from Junko) that there was a backup plan to kill the kids if things went south really set him over the edge into desperation territory. If Jin was really gonna kill kids, he wasn’t killing his kid.

After the events of the first fic, and all the trauma that would accompany that, they probably parted ways again and tried to return to some semblance of normalcy for them. They’re still in frequent contact , though, the world is still in the middle of falling apart and they’re some of the only people still living that truly know why. Jin also hasn’t told Kijo about Byakuya doing some vigilantism with the others on the side, and if (when, because these kids are not subtle) Kijo ever finds out I wouldn’t put it past him to show up in person wherever Jin is currently living to yell at him.

If they did actually get together it would be secret forever and half of it would be arguing (affectionately) hope this answered the question heh heh. (Takaaki probably assumes they are a thing because they always make plans to ruin his life together and do nothing but bicker and apologize and bicker again any time he tries to help them)

#au asks #rambling #filing this under posts that are incomprehensible to folks who haven’t read the hero fics heh heh #a shorter answer would be those two old mean muppets.#it would just be that

4 notes · View notes

mamamittens · 2 months

Text

I was super wiped today, had a headache, had to take out my ponytail and cosplay a Witch of the Wastes with my bushy ass hair free (coworker legit thought I was a whole different person and I can't blame her. My thick ass hair was actively trying to eat my face), and got minimal work done at home.

As far as the Oh Shit Sale is going, I've got down one sponsorship, I'm tinkering mentally on the second (not confident how I'm going to transition to the next parts ngl), and a pending commission so honestly, not doing too bad. Things are looking up financially outside of the sale so I'm hoping once the slots are filled (or even before!) I can retire it. We'd be pretty clear if we didn't all have debts outside of the house itself but it is what it is I suppose.

Anyway! Sleepy ramble time! Back at it with Nikia and the Bois!

So, yesterday I had some fun thoughts about how things would fall into place and it's into slightly hindered by my relative lack of knowledge for Izou. I do feel my vibe check of "can be in charge, would rather not unless shenanigans" is accurate. He just wants to vibe to his own thing.

And I've considered Thatch pretty well by this point. Strikes me as a bit of a poon hound tbh, which is an interesting thought if I'm going with Thatch/Izou ship. At the very least Thatch is fully capable of being a perv if his idea of a 'perfect devil fruit' is the clear clear fruit for exactly the reason most middle school boys want invisibility... And the current holder for that matter.

Considering who Izou was a retainer for, IE a man who whored around so hard a literal war started apparently, then he likely isn't that upright about strict monogamy. There are definitely boundaries he'll have (if my understanding of harems are clear, he'd likely have a rule about protection/no babies, cause that's main baddy privileges and Izou isn't a side hoe) but I haven't decided how far that goes. At the very least he probably entertains side lovers and Thatch testing the waters for a more included lover.

But between the two of them, Izou is probably the more sensible one. He's the one to draw lines and pull Thatch back into reality when he goes swooning on a tangent. That's not to say he's immune to flights of fancy or bad decisions, he's just less likely have issues like Thatch does.

So he's not surprised when Thatch sees a pretty woman for all of five seconds and starts to pursue her. He IS entertained by how basically feral she is, only barely holding onto her hosting duties while Thatch flits about. Only to wind up in nearly the same position as she accommodates him awkwardly but sincerely.

She's not good with people, borderline burnt out from Thatch being ridiculous, and would clearly rather curl up and sleep for a week. But she still goes out of her way to ensure Izou is comfortable and gives them privacy with plenty of warning about free time. Casually mentioning where the laundry room is so they can clean up after themselves.

Okay, so he thinks it's fucking hilarious Thatch's would-be-lover is doing her best to wingman, but the gestures are still quite sweet for someone Izou just knows wants them gone already. Also a bit of a pushover, so he worries a little about her managing the cabin with so many possible creeps out there. (Izou is far from a hero but what man doesn't like showing how capable he is? Thatch is definitely worse about it though).

Izou falls after countless conversations and many sweet, loving gestures. Thatch is enchanted at first sight and just keeps finding reasons he was right to trust his gut.

Nikia, though not showing it very well, loves having amicable company. Envying their relationship together but ultimately happy they're happy. She realizes she's in love when she notices how happy their calls make her. Proof they still think of her. And then she quietly tucks it away, refusing to ruin their dynamic because she doesn't know what else to do with a crush--having not really bothered with that before. (Her 'ignorance' is only mostly genuine. the rest is a concerted effort to not read into their interactions with her, even though Thatch is barely a step away from serenading her if it means getting his point across. Thankfully he's stabbed before that happens or she would have died from embarrassment).

#mittens rambles #one piece oc #nikia op oc

3 notes · View notes

lolamarlowe65 · 1 year

Text

𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 //James Hetfield

“The house next door was just sold, i hope the new neighbour will be nice.”

part five of ? part four

disclaimers : smut, age gap (modern day james), slow burn shit, cursing, smoking, drugs (legal where she is), probably drinking, big girls shit baby dni

Wattpad link

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

Chapter 5 - The package

I woke up early this morning.

I was supposed to work but Pamela called me telling me she will not open the pharmacy today. Apparently, she got some personal problems. Well, it's cool, it gives me more time to take care of my grandmother.

When I see my half naked body under the blanket I remind myself about the sudden act of lust that came over me last night. I couldn't control it. I needed it. I was meant to do it. James has bewitched me in a way. I never had such sexual desire.

Opening my curtains, I remind myself about what I saw last night. His back, his tattoos, his arms. All of which led to this lewd moment of mine. It's so toxic of me to have watched him like that. A little more and I would have seen him completely exposed. I'm not like that. But I did it anyway. And I kind of regret not seeing more. Fuck.

Still, I want more. I want him. Completely. I don't know if i can leave this being a lingering thought in my mind. I shouldn't do anything about it. But I want to.

I get back to my mind and go to take a quick shower. I dress in some flare pants and a rolling stone shirt. When I got back to my room I heard some loud noises coming from outside. I hope my grandmother is not still sleeping, I would be mad if her sleep was disturbed. James or not.

I looked out the window. The workers were still here moving stuff in. I stayed at my window a little more hoping to see James. I notice the garage on the side of the house is open. I can't see clearly because it's a little bit far but there he is. I froze. He was in those usual beautiful black jeans. In a tight black motörhead shirt. The morning sun was creeping on him and made the outline of his biceps so obvious.

Those arms.

Lust or love. I don't know. I truly don't. But I can't keep away. Every inch of him, all of which makes me feral.

He is working on his Camaro. I wish I was a Camaro.

"- Ann! Sweetheart!" my grandma yelled.

I snapped out of my thoughts and got downstairs to my grandmother's room. She was not here.

"- Grandma?!" i yelled back.

"- I'm in the kitchen my love." she replied.

I got to the kitchen and saw her.

"- Grandma! Hey!" i said, reassured.

"- Can you make me some coffee sweetheart? My leg hurts me too much I can't stand up." she asked sweetly.

"- Of course grandma. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"- You seem to sleep so much better these last few days darling. I want you to get as much as you can." she replied.

I know why I sleep better. My mind is occupied with James so much, the sadness that fills me generally due to my mother's death has slowed down. I still feel the worst. I miss her so much. But I see a little bit of light and peace thinking about him. My interest in him gives me hope for myself and for seeing more of this life I've been leading blindly the past few years.

I go and make coffee for my grandmother. I also prepared some oatmeal for her.

While the coffee is warming up I go and hug my grandmother from the back. I take her shoulders between my arms and I look over the journal she's reading.

"- A war. Inflation. Economy is falling apart. Our army is killing people in the middle east. Jimi Hendrix is still dead. The usual." i say. "How can you read such dreadful words?"

"- It reminds me to live every minute fully and to never think too much about anything sweetheart." she replies, grabbing my arms sweetly. "Which is something you should learn. If there is one thing you should get out of the last few years, it is that life is too short and you should do just what you want to do my dear." she added.

"- But what if i what i want to do is badly seen, or badly interpreted?" i say, doubtedly.

"- Well, to hell with everybody's mind. You and the people you are doing that with are the only ones that know what is going on sweetheart."

She takes my hand and I understand she will not change her mind about this. She seems like a sweet old lady but don't fuck with her. She'll beat you up. But I know deep down that she's right. I just don't know how to proceed it.

I let out of my grandmother's grip and got her coffee on the table.

"- The noise of the neighbour didn't bother you?" i ask.

"- No. Everything's good, it's normal to make noise when you move in darling." my grandma answers.

We eat some breakfast together and my grandmother then say.

"- Sweetheart, my birthday is coming up soon. Me and Stacy invited all my friends, I also invited Pamela and her husband. I think we should invite James too." said my grandmother excitedly.

James? Huh yes, no. I don't know.

"- Do you think he might want to come over? Such a nice gentleman, I would love him to be there." she continued.

"- I'll ask him when I have the time, grandma." i replied.

I was paralysed at the idea of seeing James again. Mostly to invite him to my home.

"- Oh honey, I feel that he is exactly how I remind him. A sweet, nice young man." she said.

Young man? He is way younger than my grandmother, that's for sure. She could be his mom. But to me he is a middle aged man. He is in his late 50s if I remember. You would think it is a good enough reason for me to back down from my dirty and romantic thoughts about him. But no. If so, it makes it more exciting. I don't know what I would have felt if I met James when he was younger. But something in me tells me I would have had the same reaction. That it's not about his age but who he is.

"- Well, i'll ask him when i see him." i tell my grandma.

"- I'll ask him too if i see him." she replied.

Now I'm sure he will be invited.

After breakfast, my grandmother asked me to help her get to the backyard. She wanted to go take care of her flowers. My grandma settled herself in the yard and started gardening. I sat down on a chair next to her. I light a cigarette. I need it. The noises from earlier were not here anymore. Perhaps the workers finished moving in James's stuff. I wonder if he is still working in his garage.

"- These flowers are so gorgeous sweetheart. Those dahlias remind me of your mother. Oh. And those hydrangeas remind me of your grandfather. And you. You are a dandelion. A beautiful bright dandelion my love." she said sweetly.

The dahlias did remind me of my mother. They were her favourites. They also were the last flowers I gave her before she died. Every time I go to her grave I put on dahlias. I'll get a tattoo of a dahlia one day. I take a drag of my cigarette, those thoughts making me more sad than anything.

A voice approached behind me.

"- You have a beautiful garden France."

I turned around and knew it was James. His voice was just too mesmerising to be forgotten. He was holding a package in hands. He smiled at me.

"- Hello Anna."

"- Hey... Mr Hetfield."

It was of use to use his last name since he decided to drive me crazy calling me by my full first name.

You could access our garden by a little path on the side of the house, not only by the inside. James probably heard us in the garden and came by the path.

"- A package for you was delivered at my place, the number of the house is badly written, they must have thought it was for me." continued James.

My grandma turned around.

"- Oh that is so sweet of you. You can put it on the porch. Ann will take it in a minute. Thank you." she said to James, happily.

The light was still doing a wonderful work on his biceps and his shirt still shaped his shoulders so beautifully. He put the package on the porch and came back to the conversation.

I helped my grandma get up from her flower patch. I'm pretty sure she wants to ask him about her birthday party.

"- Anna, you remind me of those beautiful dandelions your grandmother has right here." he said.

I froze. I was red. How did he know? Or why was I making him think of dandelions? And did he just call me beautiful? And again, my name.

"- And France, you are as bright as those peonies." he laughed lightly.

"- Oh James dear, don't make me blush." my grandma laughed. "How is the moving going?" she then asked.

"- Pretty well. I was just tidying up my garage. The car needed some work." he replied.

"- This beautiful Camaro?"

"- Yes. I've always loved this car." he continued.

"- You were just a little thing when this was made James. But me. I saw it when it was just out. Oh, one of my ex-boyfriends had one. A gold coloured one. He was an ass but i loved his car." she reminded.

James smiled at my grandma, loving her story.

I haven't said a word. But James gives me some quick looks and smiles here and there while talking to my grandma. I do too. I don't know why he does it but I know why I do it. Because he looks so magnetising. I feel like a teenage girl having her first crush.

"- Oh yes. James. My birthday is coming up soon. I would like to invite you and your wife over. I am organising a little gathering." my grandma exclaimed.

I know my grandmother just said wife because she wanted to know more about his situation. What did Stacy tell me already? Argh I don't remember. But he must be seeing somebody. There's no way he is single.

"- Well actually I'm single. I don't have a wife. Not even a girlfriend." James replied, passing a hand in his hair.

Oh my god. This doesn't make it easy for me at all. What do you mean he doesn't have somebody in his life??! A man looking like him. With such a charming aura? I smiled shyly at James trying to proceed with everything my heart was telling me to do that my morals were not loving. He noticed it and smiled back. I hate this game of cat and mouse, mostly when I don't know which one of them I am. I hope deep down that he catches me.

"- But I do have time in the next few weeks before the big rush with the band. I'll come gladly. Do you need me to bring anything?" he then asked.

"- Just bring your handsome face James that's all!" my grandma replied with a smile.

My grandmother talks to him like she would talk to a little boy. I mean he could be her son but it startles me a little. She doesn't have her daughter anymore, I guess she misses those kinds of light talk she could have with my mom.

He laughed.

"- Alright, I'll do my best." he then said. "Well ladies, I need to get back. I've got a studio session with the boys."

"- I'm glad you are doing well with your music Mr. Hetfield. I hope Lars is not as childish as before." she added.

"- How do you know that France?" James replied, chuckling.

"- Well, you came into the store I was working in when you all were younger. In 84? I think. You were as nice as a gentleman as before and Cliff and Kirk were just sweethearts. But Lars looked like an hyperactive kid your mom obliged you to take out." she laughed. "I always wondered if he was into some kind of drug or if he was just naturally like this." she smiled.

I was so out of the conversation. Who the fuck were Cliff, Kirk and Lars? Probably his band members, yes, but who does what in this fucking band? I don't know.

"- I should have remembered such a nice lady like you ma'am!" James said nicely. "But unfortunately Lars is always like this. I'm sorry you had to see that." he laughed.

This Lars seems like a grandiloquent character for sure.

"- Have a good day France." he waved at her goodbye.

His eyes locked into mine.

"- Beautiful day to you too." he suspended. "Anna."

"- Bye Mr. Hetfield." i reply.

I'll call him Mr. Hetfield until he stops calling me Anna. Actually I don't know if I want him to stop. And I truly love his last name, so I don't think I want to stop either. He smiled at me one last time. I thought he was cute.

We got back inside the house. I took the package on the porch. I didn't notice at first but on the package for my grandmother was another little one with just written "Anna" on it. I knew it was from James. I put it away quickly in my room before going back down to open the one for my grandmother. It was some gardening tools for her flowers. She needed new ones and couldn't walk too much to get to the store so I decided it was better to just order them. She was ravished. She used them the whole afternoon and made sure her flowers were in good shape. We then ate dinner and she got to bed early. I wanted to get to my room and listen to music and clean up a little. My grandmother's bedroom is on the first floor. The walls of this house are thick so I can listen to music without bothering her. On the second floor there was only a bathroom, my room and my mother's but nobody was allowed in it except me and my grandma.

I got to my room and saw the package from James on my bed. I open it and get a cassette out of it. It's a cassette of the Doors. L.A Woman. With an autograph of Jim Morrison on the front. A little word was left in the package.

"To Anna : "I found this in my music collection, I thought a Doors type of girl could have better use of it than me. I hope it will give you one of those beautiful smiles you have the secret of." - James."

Fuck. I lay back on my bed with the cassette and the word in my hand that I hold above my head. I'm blushing so hard. So he did call me beautiful earlier. What is going on? Why does he make me feel so confused? Why does it look that he is having as much of a hard time as me to hold this tension between us. If so, he seems to manage it less well. Am I giving myself ideas? No. Yes. Fuck this shit man. I want so much of him. But I mostly want to know him more, in every field. I'm all flustered and blushing. As much as when I humped my pillow thinking about him last night.

I put the word on my nightstand and I got up to get to the cupboard in the corridor. It's where my grandma keeps some of the stuff she used when she was younger. I know there is a cassette player from the early 70s in here. I'm sure the cassette will fit in there.

Got it. I go back to my room and play the cassette. It starts playing and the sound is old and cracky. Just like I want it to be. I decided that i wanted to smoke weed, i know i've got a joint left in my nightstand's drawer. I get it and light it. "Love Her Madly" my favourite song, starts playing and I can't help but dance incoherently in my room. It's like the world disappeared. I dance while smoking and the only thought that came to me was James. Him holding me by my waist while I dance would be the perfect addition to my little party. I wish someone would love me as madly as Jim describes in this song sometimes. When my mom was alive I thought so much more of romance. Today I didn't. Nobody picked my interest. Until James.

I picked up the cassette packaging with Jim's autograph on it. That's the most thoughtful gift we've ever made me. Jim Morrison truly is my favourite artist. I never thought I would touch something that he also touched. It's such an important piece of memorabilia, and James gave it to me so easily.

I think that my mom would love to see me all flustered and blushing like that. I think where she is she loves to see me smile. But mom I'm sorry, I don't know if you'd love the person for whom I smile. Actually, she probably would.

James lingered in my thoughts for so long. And I kept on dancing. Until the last second of this cassette. I am a bit high but I'm still conscious about what I'm doing. It's like my whole world has ended but I just kept on dancing.

I get up and put the cassette in a place where I can see it all the time. I go to close my curtains. If James wanted to watch me have my little party, he could have. They're is a dim light in his room. I wish he was here in front of me, like yesterday.

"- Goodnight James, I loved your gift." i said to myself, smiling while closing the curtain.

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

A/N : I want james to call me a dandelion. Chapter 6 is ready, this is where it starts getting interesting. ;) XOXO <33

#james hetfield #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield smut #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica smut

25 notes · View notes

naneun-no · 11 months

Text

💭 Thoughts on Seven - song and MV

Are you looking for someone to react to this with you? Are you wanting to hear someone else’s thoughts so you can organize your own? Here you go! This is gonna be a long one but I have thoughts to share! I’ve broken them down into categories…

The Song

Lo and behold, the horny anons were (a little bit) right! This song is definitely about sex! Lol.

I’m gonna need a few more listens to really solidify my opinion, but first few listen throughs and… I like it! It’s fast, its a little chaotic, but it’s still so melodic and pleasing to listen to, courtesy of Jung Kook’s impeccable vocals, as usual. It’s a lot more explicit than I was expecting, lmao, but we’ve been saying for a while that he’s a grown ass man. No serious person was out here thinking he doesn’t fuck. Is the song somewhat aspirational for him with the “every minute every hour” thing, considering he spends at least 2 hours at a time in the middle of the night making noodles with ARMY? Perhaps. But hey, most of us alosexuals can only dream of getting lucky seven days a week, so I don’t blame him for manifesting that energy. Also, he didn’t write it. So there’s that.

Concept & Video

My condolences to the horny anons for the lack of steamy, sexy scenes in the video (the scenes that the rest of us knew wouldn’t be there, and let’s be real Jung Kook singing about fucking somebody right is already probably the most his fans can take at any one time lmao. I’m sure there were ladies fainting at his GMA performance like they were front row watching Elvis swivel his hips in 1956).

I liked the video! It was fun, and unexpectedly funny; JK playing the part of a boyfriend so obsessed with his toxic relationship that he keeps chasing his poor woman down even after every breakup (and murder?) attempt, through these surreal settings that just show how chaotic and unstable their relationship is. Han So Hee was gorgeous and did a good job despite her character pretty much having the same reaction/feeling in every scene but the last. Jung Kook, as so many pointed out, did a pretty terrible job looking angry or frustrated at any point 🤣 but that wasn’t really the point — the point is his obsession with his partner and willingness to jump off of a literal gurney and right back into the same situation that put him there in the first place.

Which brings me to my one gripe about the concept of the video which is that…. It doesn’t really match the lyrics? It’s not like that’s unusual in the world of MVs and I don’t think videos always have to be a play by play of the song, but it does feel like an excellent execution of a concept that would have fit better with a song about obsessive love, being unable to stop falling into the same toxic patterns, etc. Instead the song is pretty purely about sex and romance. To be honest, a few scenes of them falling into bed together would probably have made a bit more sense, honestly, if that’s supposed to be the reason he can’t stay away from this woman who seems to want almost nothing to do with him, lol.

Overall the video was visually satisfying and interesting, and this moment actually made me laugh out loud, boy was in his goofy element for a moment:

Latto

I’ll start by saying I was very excited when I realized that she would be featuring. I know some people had complaints, others didn’t know who she was, but I very much do know who she is and love her sound, so I was jazzed. My one concern was that… Latto lovers don’t be mad, but in my opinion she doesn’t have a lot of on-screen charisma.

I think it’s because she’s still relatively new. She’s beautiful, but I’m not sure she knows what to do with it yet other than sensually touch herself and minutely dance. It’s reminiscent of Dua Lipa in the early days when she wasn’t really great at dancing but was thrust up in the spotlight surrounded by backup dancers (who lest we forget have typically been training in dance nearly all their lives). For Latto, if she has no interest in dancing, that’s totally fine. I don’t think she HAS to do it or be good at it, but then in that case, I would expect a bit more expressiveness in her face and actions. And maybe you totally disagree with me — feel free to watch the Big Energy video and decide for yourself. To me though, she doesn’t bring enough energy (lol). Basically the opposite of Jung Kook in the GMA performance (which he fucking owned 😩 the 90s boy band vibes, the way he held his own and actually drew my attention the entire time despite the immense talent of his backup dancers. Holy shit that boy is a star.)

And my initial excitement and concern about Latto pretty much held up. Her rap was good, a fun add to the song, and I think she nailed the energy and the rhythm and the vibe (seriously when will male rappers catch up? Women are the only ones I want featuring on pop songs from now on. They’re the only ones who understand how to stay on topic). That being said her feature in the video was… just okay? The funeral scene was one of the better ones because of the above moment I mentioned, so that saved it, but I wish she’d given a little more than just like…touches to her boobs, you know? But to be fair, that was in keeping with the song’s theme.

Overall it’s a job well done for her. I was bummed she couldn’t join him at GMA but baby rapper JK came out of hiding and did a few of her lines, which was fun. He did quite intentionally change out the pronoun from “him” to “her” which brings me to…

Does this song mean he’s announcing he’s straight?!

I feel like I’m going to get a lot of anons about this… or maybe not since their wild predictions of pornographic make out scenes didn’t happen, after all… but I feel like there will be a lot of people calling this his definitive “coming out” as a pussy-loving straight dude. And to that I say…

Maybe? Here are my thoughts on this in no particular order:

We always say to listen to the guys. I didn’t disregard it when he and Jimin chose not to change the pronouns in their cover of “We Don’t Talk Anymore” and I won’t disregard the fact that he did change them in his performance here. For whatever reason, he wanted this song and this performance to be about a woman.

This might be an unpopular opinion, but him making this single about a woman doesn’t necessarily mean he did it out of an obligatory need to appear straight in order to appease his oppressive government. Maybe he just wanted to make it about a woman. And just in case you forgot…

Liking, being interested in, and/or being sexually attracted to women doesn’t automatically make a man heterosexual. Jimin has been giving off flirty vibes to men AND women his entire career, and he still melts over Jung Kook like a bomb pop on the Fourth of July. You can be a man and like women and also like men and those things can coexist and there’s a word for that. It’s called being bisexual. Hi 👋 there’s lots of us out here, even though we tend to get drowned out and ignored, especially if and when we pursue relationships with the opposite sex. Let’s not do that so much anymore, yeah?

I’ve brought it up before and I’ll continue to; he was in Charlie Puth’s video as a very obvious love interest. Now he has a woman in his video as a love interest. Neither one cancels out the other. Neither one is a definitive confirmation of his sexuality.

Also like… maybe it is that he’s just closeted and doesn’t feel ready to share his sexuality and so he’s going with heteronormativity because it’s easy and less questions will be asked. Idk. It’s not really my business to know.

Regardless, all the holding-hands-with-an-actress-in-a-music video moments in the world can’t cancel out this:

He supported Jimin in all these ways with all this undeniable lovey-dovey energy all this time. I don’t think his feelings for that man have changed one iota, whether it’s a really tight friendship (with… ahem, undertones of longing and desire) or a bona fide relationship. Either way, I think they’re enjoying it. And I hope they have fun exploring New York together.

Oh and I know he didn’t write it but… you gotta appreciate the continuity of “give me a good ride” and “it’s the way that you can ride” 🤭🤭🤭🤭

OKAY I think that’s all my thoughts for now. What are YOUR thoughts??? Please share them. Please share them respectfully, whether you comment or message or send an ask. I’m all ears 😁

#jeon jungkook #jungkook seven #jungkook seven music video #thoughts on seven by jungkook

19 notes · View notes

winderlylandchime · 3 months

Note

I came on your blog to send you a few updates about my brother because the man is a gift that keeps on giving and then I saw that you tagged one of the posts about wanting an update about my brother. Gotta love it when the planets align that way haha. I apologize for how long this is but it has been an interesting week in my brothers life so I tried my best to keep it short and failed as you can see lol.

First of all I had to break the news to him about Randy retiring from acting to become a therapist. And it went just as how you’d imagine it to go if you imagine a grown man with a tendency to be childish and dramatic reacting to it. So many things happened so I gotta tell you the highlights: We were on facetime and I told him, he screamed (an actual AHHHH while holding a hand to his chest) and then went ‘of fucking course! The second I join the fucking party, he decides to fucking retire. And I’m supposed to NOT take it personal?!’. And while he was going on about it he was also doing something but i didn’t see what and all I saw was him grabbing scissors in a really stupid way (they were pointed towards him) so I went ‘ummmm’ and he goes ‘what? Oh come on, not even I am that fucking dramatic. I’m making myself a *said so that the last letter made a pop type of sound* crop top.’ And then he enthusiastically showed me the shirt that had A LOT of writing on it and he cut it so that only the first word is on it which is “HOLE”…. He is very proud of it btw, plans to wear it to his PT next week.. i swear he lives his life like a reality show mixed with a sitcom.

Anyway, he can’t believe Randy is actually going to be a therapist. Like at all. And then he goes ‘that’s so fucking weird though. Blondie a therapist. There’s no way people won’t recognize him..*long pause* do you think Gale also has a normal job now? Imagine he’s like a professor or some shit since he is nowhere to be found (me: how do you know that?)….i may have googled him..seriously is he even alive still?’ (ngl now i keep wondering if Gale also said fuck it and got a normal job) and then what followed was him gasping and then looking up at the ceiling and going ‘dear god.. i know i talk a lot of shit about you but if you could PLEASE make some gay dude go viral with a tweet or a dumb tiktok video about how Blondie is his therapist, that would be so fucking dope. Thanks bye’ and now I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of some gen z kid making a tiktok about it..

The good thing about this week is that he is finally covid free so i was talking to a non-feverish person which tbh not much difference, the bad thing is the dude somehow managed to get laryngitis so he’s losing his voice at a speed of light and while he was going on and on about Randy, he kept losing his voice more and more..which obviously made things for me, his little sister, a lot more fun. He was completely raspy yesterday and today he kinda still has a voice but not really. And no, none of this has prevented him from not talking about Randy retiring. It’s been over 24 hours.. Mom was annoyed with him because he will lose his voice talking about a middle aged white gay man, so he is balancing it by also talking about Gale aka a middle aged white straight man.

He also got really angry because he discovered that QAF online doesn’t have the right soundtrack (he already knew that but forgot). He was so upset about that that he was going on about it for at least 5 minutes while sounding like a dying goat. He then tried to bribe me to send him my dvds..So now his mission for 2024 is to somehow/somewhere find the dvds. Mom is hoping he doesn’t succeed because she knows full well what would happen aka he will force her to watch it. However our uncle is betraying her by helping him because the 69 year old gay dude likes drama. Mom thinks the fact that she lives 20 minutes away will stop my brother from making her watch it.. She clearly underestimates him.

And then probably my second favorite part because I got to witness it all through texts and voice memos and facetimes is that while he had covid, he had a lot of free time so one day he said fuck it and started going through everything qaf related online. So here’s a bit of a rundown of his 20 years late opinions: He is (still) angry at Hal, he’s angry at one of the writers (i forgot his name but it’s the writer who talked shit about Randy publicly), he has mixed feelings about Dan and Ron just because he’s not very fond of old men but he is also sure as fuck that they had issues with Randy, he found out that Michelle has a child with Bryan Singer and now he doesn’t like her because “i have morals.” He again remembered Gale was Pentecostal and that threw him in for a spiral at 3 am and what followed was a feverish rant about cults (which made no sense but that’s okay). He found old interviews where Randy was not so fond of qaf and that made him have some feelings but it ended up with him announcing a “war” against writers. And then he circled back to his anger at Hal because he decided that he was clearly jealous of Gale/Randy’s attention. He has range ngl. This is also where he decided Gale is a missing person because ‘seriously how the fuck can nobody post anything about him? Make him go to some charity event or some shit, I miss my man.’

Then on the day that I told him Randy is retiring which was like 2(?) days ago, he called me because he listened to the Poly episode of Randy’s podcast again (this lead to me later telling him since he didn’t see the new ep since this was the only one he had saved) anyway he called me to ask ME about if I* think he could be polyamorous (having siblings that youre close with is such a weird fucking thing). Then he decided I was not the right person to ask so he called our aunt who actually is polyamorous while he was on facetime with me and I got to witness the beauty that made me and my neighbor laugh way too hard (i wish you could hear/see him but just imagine a toddler covered in chocolate trying to make a point with an attitude how he totally didn’t eat the chocolate) because our aunt hit him with ‘i mean…stranger things have happened but also (his name), you broke up with your ex girlfriend because she wouldn’t share her purse with you’ He argued it with this and I quote ‘okay FIRST of all how DARE you bring that up, you know I’m still sensitive about that, 2nd the purse matched my outfit so it was rude she didn’t share. 3rd, I shared my two purses with her whenever she asked because sharing is caring, see that proves my point, 4th the purse was in a box for donations so once again: RUDE on her behalf and 5th and probably most important part: she cheated on me with her cousin’s girlfriend 2 days before so I think the least I deserved was to be allowed to borrow a fucking purse.’ Reader, I need you to understand that this happened like 10 years ago when he was like 25. Till this day he is more upset about the purse part than the cheating part. He was upset about that for a week until she texted him she thinks she’s gay and then he went ‘oh..i mean you couldve just fucking said so..btw did you throw that purse away?’ Our whole family still makes fun of that (in a nice way) bc he really didnt care about anything except the purse but also because he hit on a girl at bar once and she told him she’s gay and he pulled up instagram and showed her our accs and went ‘i got a sister or an ex, whose number would you prefer’ so he’s definitely still upset over the purse. Btw the jury is still out on him being able to share a whole human.

And also today which is why I’m sending you this now, I woke up to these next texts: ‘what if i change my therapist and I go to Randy? How fucked up would that be?’ ‘Imagine I end up in his office and just start talking to him about qaf’ ‘wait hold up, imagine if I didn’t know it’s him! And i show up in my Justin shirt and go on this long speech about this show and Brian and Blondie…at what point do you think he’d stop me?’ ‘Okay so I texted (his therapists name) and after he was done being mad at me for asking him dumb questions under the impression of emergency late at night, his only words were ‘in my humble professional opinion, (his name), it would be BEYOND fucked up’ but I think he’s exaggerating, what do you think?’ ‘So what kind of therapist do you think he’ll be? Like one on one ‘you got depression, heres pills’ type or couples or what?’ ‘Also do you think he’ll be a cool chill therapist or will he be one of those that look like they escaped their Mormon family and have a stick up their ass?’ ‘Do you think my man is also doing some random work now? Like mechanic or something?’ ‘My man as in my man Gale btw’ ‘no but fr imagine you go to therapy and the dude who you watched fuck on tv is your therapist… at what point do you tell him that you know what his booty looks like?’ ‘His choice in clients are limited.. either kids with no social media or like the fucking Amish’ So I would say he is handing the Randy retirement/therapist news about the same as all of us… or worse.. I actually can’t decide.

Dear sweet anon! I put out into the universe that I wanted updates from you and your brother and the universe delivered.

First of all, we are all devastated about Randy retiring from acting/public life. But also, as a therapist, I do support this journey for him. I do think it will be hard but he will have supervisors along the way to help him navigate the fact that there is footage out there of his butt on a Showtime show. Either that or he can only see clients who are toxic levels of heterosexual.

Speaking of your brother's idea to covertly become his patient, may I direct you to this anon I received? Here THE FANDOM KNOWS YOUR BROTHER AND PREDICTED HE WOULD WANT TO INFILTRATE RANDY'S THERAPY PRACTICE.

The soundtrack online is a travesty and is also homophobic. Would your uncle help me find the DVDs too? I have S2 but not the rest. (I don't even have a DVD or Blu Ray player but I also bought the entire David Tennant Doctor Who collection on Blu Ray (well minus 14 I guess) so at this point I'm just collecting stuff. (I do have a link to a google drive with all the episodes but you or your brother would have to reach out to me by DM here or on discord (thataj.) because I can't post it publicly (it's not actually mine lol).

I think it is very polyamorous to break up with someone for not sharing. Also, I am now curious about his collection of purses. Isn't sharing the name of the game in polyamory?

I think all of his opinions about everyone are so valid. We do get one (1) proof of life from Gale on social media per calendar year. Usually on someone else's account. I know there was a post of him in 2023 so we need to look out for 2024. I do NOT know what he is doing to earn a living these days. It is very likely he has a job that is not in entertainment or at least not on stage or on screen. Maybe entertainment adjacent?

Thank you so much for this update. I love that this continues to cause drama and discussion in your family. I love that your brother's therapist is fully involved. And I love that you continue to share your family with us.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023 #2024 edition

2 notes · View notes