#i get all restless for no reason even if i have the charger right there 💀

[martiniblues]

i’d give up forever to touch you ; 이민형

pairing idol!mark x female!reader

synopsis while mark is away on tour, you find yourself looking back at old memories of you two. you have grown used to spending these moments alone while mark is gone, but little do you know he is doing the same thing miles and miles away.

genre established relationship, light angst, fluff, reader uses she!her pronouns, nicknames used for reader (pretty girl, baby) and mark (baby, pretty boy).

wc 1.8k

song : iris by the goo goo dolls

the sheets wrinkled beneath your shifting body. nearly silent crinkles filled the empty void within your room. slivers of light from the moon fell onto your restless figure, highlighting your messy hair and stretched-out shirt. you had gotten into bed at eleven; it was now three, and not a single ounce of your body felt tired.

thoughts ran wild in your brain, causing every other part of your body to feel more than alive. it’s not like this is the first time he’s had to go. with comebacks, schedules, and shows, mark was constantly on the go. most of the time, there would be two to three days in a row where the only place you would see mark was through the screen of your phone.

one time he had to be gone for a week while preparing for a new album, and looking back now, you wish you hadn’t been so dramatic. a week felt like a breeze compared to the treacherous months you were now facing without mark. not only was he physically not here with you in bed, your head rested on his chest, or vice versa, he also hadn’t texted or called all day.

at the beginning, you two constantly kept in touch, sending random photos or messages about how much you missed each other. but now with a dramatic time zone, texts fell further and further apart, which then turned into silence. you missed him more than words could explain; the t-shirt that hugged your body relived some of your sorrow, reminding you of how he had thrown it off the night before he left. giving in, you grabbed your phone from its spot next to you and opened your camera roll, clicking on your favorited photos.

some were of friends and family, but the majority were of you and mark. silly mirror photos taken when putting on face masks and spur of the moment selfies reflected back onto your face, causing your eyes to sting. maybe if it hadn’t been for the overflowing emotion you felt, the tears could be blamed on your brightness being too high, but it took no genius to know the reason. videos from picnics under sunny skies and tipsy late night games echoed in your room and settled right into your heart. silent tears continued to spill down your flushed cheeks, going unnoticed due to your full attention being on your boyfriend. you continued to scroll, stopping on a distinct image. the photo had been taken a little over a year ago.

the two of you sat on the edge of the sidewalk outside of your apartment complex. mark had a full day of schedules, giving him only the dark hours of the night to slip by your place and see you before he had to get up and do it all over again. his exhaustion quickly converted to energy after being in your arms as he stepped into your place. "dude… you’re like a human portable charger." his words were muffled due to being pressed into your neck, before he pulled back to look at you with wide eyes. "can we go for a walk?" he practically begged before lacing your fingers together and pulling you out into the chilly nighttime atmosphere.

"honestly…" you began while the two of you stepped in sync, hands still interlocked and swinging between your bodies. mark made a little hum as his head quickly turned at the sound of your voice. "i was expecting you to pass out when you came over." a breathy laugh left your lips as he continued to swing your hands. "what can i say? it’s just what you do to me, dude." the cheesy words made you both break out into giggles, never once disconnecting your hands. even when he began to wander off, your body just followed his smoothly, like it was second nature.

at this moment though, you stopped. "oh, mark you really know how to make a girl swoon, dude." your unexpected stop made him turn around as your hands became disconnected. at the sudden loss of contact, he quickly made his way back to you, as if you were miles away and not just a few steps. "baby you know i mean it as a term of endearment. i don’t just call anyone dude." his fingers made their way to your face and threaded a few careless strands behind your ear. his hand continued to slowly make its way down your neck and arm, finally re-entwining your fingers as they once were.

your body, which was once cold due to the dropping temperatures, instantly grew hot at his loving gesture. "so haechan, jisung, jeno, and practically all of your friends are on the same level as me?" you teased, tilting your head to the side and peering at your boyfriend through squinted eyes. "no dude- i mean, baby, of course not. hey, i don’t call anyone else pretty girl except you. right, pretty girl?" if there’s one thing you and mark were good at, it was getting each other flustered, and while he tended to express his a lot more than you, this nickname was one of the few gestures you couldn’t pull a poker face at.

feeling your cheeks instantly redden, you dropped your head and stared at the concrete beneath you. even with your eyes glued to the ground, you could practically see the smirk pulling at mark’s lips. "i got you good, huh?" he continued, causing your cheeks to deepen in color. using his free hand, he cupped your face so you could look right at him. "pretty girl," he teased breathlessly once more before pulling you towards him. as your lips slotted between his, you couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. mark couldn’t hold back either, as you could clearly feel his cheek bunch up under your palm. "you finally got some game, huh, pretty boy," you joked, finally pulling back from his firm hold.

just as you did moments before, mark’s ears and cheeks instantly flushed at the new nickname. "dude stop," he whined, turning away and walking further down the street as he sulked. "oh, shut up, you big baby." you quickly got up behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso to stop his movement. mark titled his head over his shoulder to look back at you.

he could have sworn right there in that very moment that he fell in love with you. the look you had in your eyes like you held everything he ever needed within two small irises, and your hands burning straight through the thin fabric of his shirt and imprinting right into his bones. it’s not like this was the first time love came to mind. he was in love with you and had been for a long time, but in this exact moment, he found himself losing all sense of control and completely falling into you and your entire being.

his chest tightened at the memory. the afternoon sunlight covered his skin, warming him up even more than he already was. his shoulders slumped and his lips pouted ever so slightly as he scrolled through the countless candid photos he had of you. he had been stuck on a specific one for quite some time. from none other than that very night.

the two of you had paused your walk and decided to sit under a street lamp. small white flowers bloomed onto the patch of grass next to you. remembering the habit you had as a kid, you began to braid each flower with another to create a crown. maybe it was the focused expression on your face or the way the light from above you both seemed to settle around you like a halo, but mark swore if he didn’t capture you that very instant that he would regret it for the rest of his life. noticing his movements from the corner of your eye, you swiftly turned your head to catch him in the act.

his thumb pressed down on the screen, causing the photo to turn into a short clip. you had pulled an exaggerated smile at his phone before the both of you broke into a laugh, flowers still in hand. the sound of your laughter was enough to pull a small one out of him at that moment. still sitting in the bed, he reached over and grabbed his headphones from the bedside table. he knew, or rather, he thought, that you would be fast asleep during this time.

every single day had become harder and harder, even if it meant he was closer and closer to seeing you again. if it were up to him, he would book a one-way flight straight to you, even if he could only see you for a day. hell, he could buy you a ticket and fly you to him in no time, but with school and work, he did not want to stress you out even more than you already were. it’s selfish; he knows it, but he wishes you would let him be greedy and keep you by his side the whole tour.

clicking shuffle on his playlist, iris by the goo goo dolls began to drift into his ears. it’s like some higher being knew exactly how he felt and queued the song on purpose. shifting to lay flat on his back, mark stared at the ceiling and pictured that you were there with him, hand in hand, listening to this song together.

your body grew hotter the more you held back your own emotions. yanking the covers off, you situated yourself on your back and gazed upward. not being able to look anywhere else. he was all around you. from picture frames on your dresser to discarded sweatshirts on your floor, everything reminded you of him. but for mark, the only part of you he had was on his phone, and with that, you were still light years away.

a single tear sprouting from the corner of your eye, quickly lead a trail past your lips and down your neck. little did you know that mark too had a tear pool down his cheek in that exact same moment. picking up his phone and opening your texts, he quickly sent you a message.

[one audio] made me think of you and how badly i miss you man. it’s true “i’d give up forever to touch you” right now pretty girl. sleep well for me if you aren’t already. call me when you wake up no matter what time it is. i need to hear your voice. im deprived hehe :)) i love you lots and lots baby. talk to you so soon <333

© martiniblues | do not copy or translate my work!

note i got a tad bit carried away with this oops. but iris has been stuck in my head for days now and i also have been into more angsty reads recently so BOOM here’s this. i know it’s prob not my best work lol but i just wanted to get something out and hopefully get some feedback. if you made it this far thank you so much for reading!!

read part two here!

#mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #mark x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 127 fic #nct dream fic #nct #nct mark

[miscellaneous-bnha]

A little “Christmas Magic”

Kirishima x Fem!Reader x Denki

This is my piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten’s Citrus Dome “Snowed In” Collab.

Link to the Collab: https://tomurasprincess.tumblr.com/post/637531853698547712/citrus-dome-server-snowed-in-collab

Warning: slightly Scumbag Kiri/Denki, dubious consent (at the start), Possessive/FeralDenki, Smug Kiri, some exhibitionism, lowkey yandere Denki if you squint, dumbification, a little tongue pulling, light cum play

Also, I write Denki as someone who pretends to be stupid but is actually extremely intelligent.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

Being childhood friends with Denki had it’s perks; knowing how intelligent your best friend is compared to how stupid he likes to act is one of them, so you knew that it was no accident he kept you distracted long enough for the blizzard to roll in.

Effectively trapping you in his home with his roommate Kirishima.

“Aww come on! It’s not that terrible! We’ve got good heating, enough food n’ snacks. The world’s BEST portable charger,” he points to himself dramatically, “And, if you do get bored of me, Kirishima’s here too.”

“You say that like you were planning on excluding me from your plans.” Kirishima looks at his roommate unimpressed. You stifle a giggle.

“Even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.” You nudge the redhead with your shoulder, making him snort a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

“So you agree it’s not that bad?” Denki bats his eyes at you, causing you to push his face away with a scoff.

“Alright alright. It could be worse.” He grins.

“I’m glad you agree!”

The three of you spend the night talking about the latest games the three of you have been following. They had both just convinced you to download a multiplayer rpg when the power suddenly went out, leaving you all in the dark.

“Oof, unlucky. I guess even state of the art homes still get black outs.” You mutter.

“More likely than you think. Here, why not get closer before the temperature starts to drop.” Kiri offers.

“Sure, why not. I’ll be thankful for it later anyhow.” You sandwich yourself between Denki and Kiri laying on your back as the three of you bundled together.

“Everyone’s phones charged up?” Denki peeks at your phone, still going strong at 95%

“Yeah, it should be good for a while longer. Anyone up for some music?”

For the next 3 hours, you continue to talk until you find yourself growing sleepy. Comfortably warm, you can’t help the way your eyes slip close.

————

When you wake up again, you can still hear the wind whipping around outside. You grab your phone only to be met with the no battery signal. Both boys on either side of you completely knocked out.

You tsk at your own stupidity. ‘I should have turned it off when I realized I was getting sleepy.’ You thought to yourself, leaning over Denki to use his phone to check the time.

The numbers 9:27am stared back at you. Just as you move to settle back into your spot, Denki’s arms suddenly wrap around you.

“Mm… five more minutes…” the angle at which he grabbed you made it so you were lying on top of him, your legs straddling his hips.

“Uhm… Denks…” you try to shake him gently.

“Noooo… jus’ five mmm….” he starts to snore softly again, and you’re left stuck on him.

You sigh, accepting your fate. With your phone dead, you decide whether or not you should stick the charger into his mouth and plug your phone in or if you should just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, with how restless you felt, sleeping wasn’t an option, and you’d feel pretty guilty for disturbing him from what must be a good dream.

A really good dream.

Your face erupts into flames when you realize there’s something hard poking at you. The blush darkens when he groans and his hips jerk up to grind against you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t ever attracted to your childhood friend; blonde hair, golden eyes, killer smile. You saw how popular he was back then, and you can see it in his hero ratings now. Even aside from his looks, his goofy, lovable, secretly intelligent nature made it impossible not to fall for him all those years ago.

But you also knew he tended to be a flirt, which made it hard to tell if he was genuine. Especially since his advances were never directed at you.

Wishful thinking made it easy to believe that he didn’t flirt with you because “he didn’t want to think the one person he cares the most about to think he was playing with them”, but reason told you otherwise.

You’ve met some of his exes, and none of them were like you.

So, in the friendzone you stayed. ‘Better than nothing’, you reason, and— much to your own surprise— you’re satisfied with that.

You shake your head and squirm. “Denki…! Wake up you idiot!” He snorts when you headbutt his chest, head sitting up as he let you go to rub at the spot you hit.

“Awww… I was having a good dream…”

“I’m sure you were!” You spit, embarrassed.

You make an attempt to hide it. “Also, I need a favor, my phone died while we were sleeping.”

“Ah, yeah. I tried turning your music off, but I guess that didn’t work.” You hum, but nod.

“Thanks for trying. Mind charging it for me?”

He taps a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it before he grins. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya.” You snort.

“Ha ha. What do I owe?”

“A kiss.” You roll your eyes. Even as a kid, Denki always liked to say stuff like that.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek.

“There, your kiss. Now can you charge my phone?” You have to bite your tongue to hold back a yelp when you’re suddenly flipped over on your back, Denki hovering over you.

“You can do better than that!” He grins when you snort.

“Oh really now?” You plant another, wetter, kiss to his cheek with a smack. “And is that good enough for you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on!” You whisper-yell, fake exasperated, “I give! What more could you possibly want??”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!”

He pauses, eyes watching you for a moment before suddenly his lips are on yours. One hand cupping your jaw, thumb circling the underside of your chin, the other bracing himself over you.

You don’t expect it, nor do you expect the way he deepens the kiss so effortlessly even while you’re still floundering for steady ground. He almost seems to be intent on trying to keep you stumbling.

You gasp and pant when he parts from your lips with a wet smack; head foggy with confusion, you don’t have any time before his lips are back on yours, smothering you into another blissful, naïve cloud.

You whine when the hand cupping your jaw trails down slowly, fingers intertwining with yours and giving a gentle squeeze, bringing it above your head to pin it there.

“W-Wait!” You gasp, trying to come back down to reality, still not believing what’s happening.

“No.” He nips the side of your neck, making you groan softly, “Waited long enough.”

“Wh- what do you mean??” You don’t get your answer. Instead, he presses more hot kisses to your lips, each accompanied with a soft smack.

“Denki—!” You hiss through your teeth when he bites down on your neck again, harder this time. He covers your mouth with one hand, hushing softly.

“Waited too long for this. Should’ve just said something a long time ago.” His breath is hot against your ear, making you squirm when his teeth nibble on the lobe. “Should’ve told you how I feel ages ago.”

You can’t help the excited thumping of your heart, especially if his words mean what you hope they do. You gasp when you feel his hard on grind against you, sound stolen from you when Denki presses another deep kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, need you. Need you so fucking bad.” He borderline growls as his free hand disappears below the blanket covering the both of you. You’re just about to let the haze overcome you when you suddenly hear Kirishima snort from next to you, making your blood freeze.

“Denki..! Kirishima’s right there—!” He groans burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck..! I know! ‘S fine!” He flips you both again so that you’re on top, tugging at the pair of sweatpants you borrowed and your panties.

“We can’t!” He bucks his hips into yours, making you inhale sharply. He tugs you down so your chest is pressed to his. You can feel the way his heart is pounding through your thin shirts.

“For fuck’s sake, please, baby girl. I can’t. I can’t wait anymore.” He groans into your ear, hands pinning your hips to his, moving you to grind against him.

“But Kirishima—!”

“Kirishima—” He growls his roommate’s name with disdain, making you shudder with fear and arousal, “— won’t know if you stay quiet.” He hisses when he finally manages to slide the sweatpants off of you, bare cock nudging against your panty-clad pussy.

“Please. I need you so fucking bad it hurts. I will combust if I can’t fuck you right fucking now.” You shiver when you feel his fingers pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick and circling your clit.

“Okay, okay okay okay— wait!” You bite your lip when he shoves his leaking cock into you, growling into your shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck…” he groaned, hips fucking up into you with soft ‘paps’

“Den—ki!” You whine, grinding down on his cock as much as he would let you.

“That’s it, baby…. jus’ keep sayin’ m’ name.”

“Or maybe mine.”

The shock of hearing Kirishima’s voice right by your ear has you clamping down on Denki’s cock, sending you over the edge when he thrusts roughly into you.

“Kiri—“ Denki slaps a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

“Seriously?” Denki growls, pissed. He doesn’t pull out though, opting to fuck into you still,

“Aww, come on. I’m not the one breaking promises around here, Denki. Don’t get a little salty because I wanted to join in on the fun.” You shudder and moan, overstimulated.

It’s hard to focus on the conversation as yet another orgasm builds. You can barely focus on the fact that you just got caught fucking your childhood friend by his roommate, at least until two hands grab you by your shoulders and pull you against a firm chest.

“Kirishima! Wh—” You whine when one arm wraps around your neck, not squeezing, but keeping you pinned to his chest, the other pinching and pulling at your nipple,

“Kaminari here can’t keep a promise, so I’m just having some fun touching you.” He laughs, seemingly unbothered. Then he whispers into your ear,

“But don’t worry; I’ll give it to you later.” You squeeze and clench around Denki’s cock at the sound of that.

Kirishima’s hand trails down your body, leading a trail of goosebumps until his fingers pinch and tug at your clit. He activates his quirk, the rough sensation of his hardened fingers add to your pleasure until you’re creaming on Denki’s cock all over again. You whine, trying to pull away from the stimulation, but Kiri just holds you there, letting Denki rut up into you until he’s cumming, hissing through his teeth until he can’t bring himself to pull out anymore.

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that he isn’t wearing a condom, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t have time to as you feel yourself falling asleep again.

————

When you wake up, you’re cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. He gives you a bright, toothy smile when he notices your eyes opening.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty! Well, good afternoon now.” You groan, feeling a little sore.

“What time is it?”

“About 2pm. You didn’t actually sleep that long.” You grunt.

“Where’s Denki?”

“Grabbing some snacks together. Your phone finished charging, by the way.

He presses the device into your hands and you stare at it owlishly until your brain catches up with your body.

“Ah, thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

You set it off to the side, sitting up and stretching. Your face twists when you feel something leaking out of you.

“Ugh.. I should go and get cleaned up… well, as much as I can anyway.” You throw the blanket to the side, but you don’t have the opportunity to stand before Kirishima’s hands are on your hips.

“About what I said earlier…” he murmurs softly. It takes you a moment, but you blush when you finally remember.

“Wh-what about it?”

“Do you mind?” He squeezes his hands gently.

You chew your lip. Everything considered, he’d watched and helped Denki fuck you, and you certainly were curious…

“... alright, why not?” Kirishima grins before patting his lap, pushing his shorts and boxers down. Your eyes widen when his cock stands,

“Have you been hard this whole time??” As smug as he’d been acting earlier, he seemed to get a little shy at your question

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You were!” He sputters, but pulls you into his lap.

“Look, of course I’m going to be hard.” He teases the sharp points of his teeth against your neck,

“Thinking about all those noises you made, the way you looked on his cock…” he growls playfully, biting down on your shoulder until you whine softly.

“Shit... just hurry up then!” You grumble, giving his cock a couple of good strokes.

He flips you around so your back is against his chest again, slowly sinking you down on his cock as you both groan.

“Christ... I see why he wasn’t keen on sharing.” Kiri raises you by the hips, slamming you back down on his cock with a hiss,

“So fucking tight baby girl…” he groans as you whine, falling back against his chest. Your body shakes with his laughter.

“Awww… already stupid from my cock stuffing your tight little hole?” He groans, but you can feel the way he grins against your neck,

“That’s alright, baby. I’ll take care of ya.”

Your whines and moans do eventually attract Denki, pulling him away from his task. He scowls at Kirishima, who only continues to lazily bounce you on his cock.

“You could have at least waited until I came back.”

“And miss a chance at fucking her cute little pussy? I don’t think so.” You whine when Kiri forces your hips to still, instead rotating your hips so his cock grinds deep inside.

You feel Denki grip your jaw with one hand, the fingers on his other hand slipping inside your mouth. You yelp when you feel him pinch your tongue, tugging it out and forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You’ve always had such a pretty little mouth too…” Denki says more to himself than to you, letting go of your tongue in favor of tugging his cock out of his sweatpants.

“Mind if I use it?”

He taps the tip of it against your tongue, groaning a soft “good girl” when you suck on it, only for you to choke when he pushes more of his length into your mouth.

“Hey, take it easy man.” Kiri starts to bounce you on his cock again, making you moan with each drop of your hips. Denki grunts, cupping your cheeks with his hands,

“She’ll be alright, won’t you baby?” You whine softly, too busy focusing on the rising heat in your core.

��Either way, I don’t think she’s coherent enough to even notice if my balls smack against her chin.” Denki says as he snaps his hips forward again, making you gag.

“Well… don’t make her sick.”

“She’ll be fine.”

You moan and gag with every drop and rise of your hips respectfully. In some ways, Denki was right when he said you’d hardly notice him shoving his cock down your throat; come later, it’ll be sore as hell, but for now, it added to the curling pleasure that only seemed to build the more roughly they treated you.

You feel Kirishima reach forward to pinch a nipple, making you gag out a yelp around Denki’s cock. Both of them hiss in unison.

“Shit, I think she liked that.” Kirishima gives it another painful tug, causing you to whine and your cunny to flutter.

“Fuck.. keep doing that.” Denki groans out, forgetting completely about your comfort for a moment when he shoves his dick all the way down your throat, making you choke when Kirishima buries himself balls deep.

You feel like your head is floating aimlessly by the time they start to lose control. Between Kiri’s thick, heavy cock splitting you open and Denki fucking your face, your eyes roll back as you cum hard, whining and moaning through your choked noises.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s it baby! Just tighten up like that!” Kirishima growls as he abandons your nipple, opting to rub your clit instead to keep you cumming.

Denki hisses and pulls his cock out of your mouth, instead leaving the tip on your tongue as he strokes himself to completion.

Both men are loud when they cum, and you can only whine when you feel your body turn to gelatin again.

You grimace when Denki pushes his cum around on your tongue, only removing his finger when he’s satisfied with the look of it. “Swallow for me, yeah?” He pets your cheek when you comply, smiling in satisfaction.

You can feel Kirishima’s cum leak out of you the second he pulls out. He lets out a low whistle, lightly patting your ass. “What a sight to behold.”

You flop back against Kirishima’s chest, groaning softly. “Now can I get cleaned up?”

“Of course. Just give us a sec, yeah?”

“Or you could just stay like this for-“

“No thank you, Denki.”

“Party pooper.”

#bnha collab #citrus dome collab #snowed in collab #Denki x reader x Kirishima #Denki x reader #Kirishima x reader #read the warnings please! #will add more tags later

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Heavy (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: I don't really have a summary for this. It just needed to be written - have some mental health comfort with Charlie.

I haven't proof read this so apologies for any mistakes.

Warnings: Mental Health

Word Count: 1,795

Everything felt heavy.

This was new.

It was like everything felt too much to handle. So instead of standing up, finding a way through – a normal practice for you – you retreated. You retreated much further back than you had in a long time. This wasn’t fast; it was a slow process of watching everything fall apart around and within you. Nothing felt right anymore and it bugged you. It bugged you that you didn’t feel worthy of trying anymore, people around you reminded you that you were but when you were left alone for even a minute life felt like nothing. Everything felt simultaneously blank and all too much.

Whenever you felt like this you were reminded of a quote you read once, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which had just stuck in your mind. “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” You didn’t even know it was a real quote but nothing had ever resonated with you quite like this.

Today was dark. Today felt like giving up. So you sat alone at home, no lights on inside but just watching the day slowly disappear with the light outside. Your laptop light illuminated your face in the dying light and although it hurt your eyes it was something to numb your mind. Movement felt almost impossible so even as your stomach growled at you for food you just patiently shushed it and carried on the mindless tasks you could do from exactly where you were in bed.

Then you heard a key in the lock and the quiet push open of the door. You’d expected it honestly. You’d waited for the sound of his spare key in the lock for a couple of days, he was a busy man so you put no time frame on this expectancy but you knew him. You knew how his mind would buzz with worry as you slowly slipped away from him but you didn’t have the energy or the words to say anything. To you it felt easier, but to him it would feel like the world was ending. You waited for the second pair of smaller footsteps. Sometimes he’d bring his son Henry with him in the hopes that his incessant youthful energy would spur you up out of bed. Sometimes it worked and sometimes he’d frantically place Henry in front of the TV to keep him from seeing Dads girlfriend, and his favourite new person/babysitter, in such a state. This time they never came and you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his wide frame occupy the doorway, leaning casually and eyes scanning you and your surroundings.

“You should have called” his deep tone cut through the silence and you internally flinched. The silence was comforting; you didn’t have to answer to the silence.

“I don’t know where my phone is”

You saw him reach into his pocket, still not having made eye contact with him yet, and type something into his phone. In the distance you heard a ringing; he swiftly followed it and returned a moment later with the ringing phone.

“It’s barely got any charge. Where is the charger honey?” he asked, so gentle.

You pointed to the corner of the room where you always get the charger plugged into the wall. He padded over, you noticed he’d kicked off his shoes, and stooped to plug in your phone with the joints of his knees quietly clicking as they bent. The looming frame was now crowding your peripheral vision at the end of the bed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you should have called” he said, you could hear that he was bordering on slight agitation. Charlie was a patient man, being a father had made him such, but with you he often caught himself gritting his teeth when things got this bad. You knew you were unreasonable and childish but you didn’t have the space in your mind to be anything else. You knew these changes in mood were constant lately and you expectantly waited for the day that agitation turned into dropping off his spare key and never coming back.

You saw him turn, as his back was to you now you lifted your eyes to see him. He was dressed casually, your favourite red jumper of his hugging the broad curve of his shoulders. He was always so well put together.

He reached for the curtains…

“Please don’t” you raised your voice just a little. His hands paused and he turned to you. You heard him huff a breath out and he lifted his hands to rest at his hips. “How was work?” He asked plainly. You shrugged “It was fine”, thankfully right now your job was mostly sitting aimlessly staring at a laptop screen. This was something you comfortably did from bed most days.

“Did you eat today?”

You shook your head. With that he stepped a little closer and you resisted the urge to look at him, the stare of his soft golden brown eyes felt too much. Despite his restlessness for your moods he regarded you with such care and attention. The gentle loving tone of his voice made your chest ache.

“When did you shower last?”

Shrug

“Did you call your mom?”, when you shook your head at this question he audibly tutted. You flinched but hoped the room was dark enough that he didn’t see it.

“You know you need to tell me when things get this bad right? Am I still driving you to therapy tomorrow?”

“I cancelled the appointment” You muttered.

This time he raised his voice and said your name in a tone that sounded nothing short of a parent talking to a child. For some reason it brought you an ounce of comfort.

“I know okay!” you said, the volume of your own voice rising this time. Your mind felt crowded, like someone had filled it with cotton wool and then tied heavy weights to your brain. “I can’t Charlie, okay? I get that I disappoint you when I don’t do what you tell me and then I’m a fucking burden to you because you have to come over here but I just can’t!” your body was shaking and tears poured from your eyes as you frantically tried to brush them away with the pads of your fingers.

He sighed and bent down, elbows resting on the bed, so that he was in your eyeline, “You don’t disappoint me sweetheart and you certainly aren’t a burden; I just care and want you to try”

“I do try!” you shouted; now you looked at him dead in the eyes. His expression instantly changed when he saw your face, crumpled and weary, “Sweetheart, I know you d-“

“- I do try Charlie, but I just can’t. I don’t want to have to try all the time. I don’t want to have to fight all the time. I don’t want to do this!” you gestured wildly around you, signalling the mess of things around you that was a necessity when simple functioning was hard. You sobbed, dropping your face into your hands and letting everything you’d held back all day go.

You tried not to cry anymore, it hurt your eyes and gave you a headache so you stored it. You held it in in the hopes it would go away. But right now with Charlie’s kind eyes on you there was nothing to hold it back. No silence, no peace, just him.

He instantly got to his feet and picked your laptop up from your lap placing it somewhere. He shushed you with a hand through your hair and shuffled you forward with the gentlest tug he could, you looked up to see what he was doing and saw him awkwardly crouching on the bed beside you before he slid in behind you. You tried to speak but his motions distracted you.

Charlie slid himself behind you, his back to the cushions and his legs either side of your hips. Suddenly you were submerged in him, the warmth of his body and the gentle wave of his cologne.

He grabbed your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest. A strong arm wrapped itself around your middle and then the other wrapped a muscular forearm around your chest. You instantly wrapped your fingers around it and held him closer. He placed gentle kisses into your hair and coo’d soft words into your neck until your sobbing had subsided slightly.

You sat, fingers wrapped around his forearm staring blankly at the space in front of you sniffling away your tears. Everything felt numb. But the press of his lips against your skin and the beating of his heart against your back brought you down, lowered your own racing heart and stilled your breath just a little.

“I should have called” you croaked. He placed a firm kiss to your shoulder and said “I know, but I’m here now. I promise I’m not going anywhere”

“But what about Henry?”

“I’ll take care of it” he said, shushing you as you tried to spin in his arms and he whispered your name, “Let me take care of you…” and then even more quietly he added “… Let me love you”

You shook your head “I don’t know how”

“Then let me show you. You are worthy of so much more than a dark empty room and a brain filled with lies”

You nodded and sniffed as more tears began flooding your vision. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, his voice soft and nurturing in your ear.

“I want to help but you have to let me. I will be here for as long as you want me, for as long as you need. But you can’t shut me out again okay?”

You nodded again and tried to speak, the second you opened your mouth no words but a cry was all the sound you made.

“Right, first things first…” his voice trailed off as your body moved, he was leaning down to the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet. You clung to his forearm as he shuffled around. He plopped a protein bar from your emergency depression snack stash into your lap.

“Eat” he ordered voice stern and you knew not to argue with that tone. The Dad Tone. Your hands shook as you unwrapped the top of the bar and took a tentative bite.

“I don’t deserve you” you whispered, hiccuping through your tears and slow bites.

“Nonsense” he tutted “You deserve the world and I will always try my best to give it to you”

#charlie barber #marriage story #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you

[couchpotatoaniki]

Idol!ATEEZ: Their s/o secretly writes fanfics pt.2

A/N: This was a request from someone who wanted to read their reactions to dirty fanfics *wiggles brows* but cba coming up with more backstories, so this’ll be a continuation of the first reaction

Tag list: @lovelyrose014-blog​ sorry this took so long :((

WARNINGS: swearing, mature content, heavily suggestive

Part One

Kim Hongjoong:

Hongjoong made no effort to hide that he read your stories. It was as he promised; the first time he read them was not the last.

He’d been filling up his rare breaks with your works, powerful words contrasting your timid nature and no matter how many times he indulged himself in your crazy mind, Hongjoong never ceased to be amazed.

You had more sides to you than he ever could imagined.

Although, there was one thing he put off for quite some time now, and that would be reading your more popular fanfics. The fan favourites. After all, being the leader, he should know what his fans like, and as your boyfriend he should know what you crave.

Hongjoong was a smart guy despite the goofy act he put on--very similar to your intelligence and geeky-yet-quiet nature. He knew that you wanted to keep him away from the dark side of your account, not wanting to scare him away (which he would never let happen). Hence why he hadn’t gone on it since he wanted to respect your wishes to some extent.

Until now.

Hongjoong swears it was curiosity, nothing more, but deep down he knew. He still needed to see that side of you, the side you deem acceptable for a whole world of strangers to see but not him.

Drove him mad.

But he was still in denial as he chanted in his head that this was only for research purposes. Bullshit.

Late at night, when pretty much everyone had gone home and he still had some work left to do, Hongjoong decided to take a well-deserved break, lying on his sofa as he scrolled through his phone.

He was doing what he had planned--he was finally doing it and nothing made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins. He clicked on the one which had the most reads, the one that was the most popular among anything you wrote, and from the title, it appeared innocent enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the one...

Then again, you were adamant that he never read it.

“Never hurt to try...” Hongjoong mumbled, despite being the only one in the sound-proof room. He clicked on it, anticipation making him restless.

Long chapter, as usual, and everything started out fine enough. No sign of anything, nothing suggestive at all.

What was the big deal about?

The next few chapters were of a similar feel. Sweet, gentle, fluffy. But he couldn’t put his phone down, something about this story had him...unsettled. It was nothing like your usually ones--with sadistic characters and an intricate plotline.

No. This had him slightly confused. It felt too kind.

Then he carried on. And then he realised.

That was exactly your intention.

The filter you had put over the first few chapters was slowly startling to peel away, into something more twisted.

Hongjoong buzzed off this, knowing exactly that the earlier chapters were a trap, a false sense of security. How you managed to poison every reader slowly, like your words were mercury.

By the time he got to the first smut chapter in the series, he was already consumed, work forgotten . Every word felt like it sucked out a part of his soul, and the heavy themes in the scenes had him in an uncomfortable situation of rather tight jeans.

Right now, all Hongjoong wanted was you. He needed you. To do all those things you wrote, to be there with him and feel the things he was feeling.

Luckily, you were always awake at this time of night.

Just a phone call away.

Park Seonghwa:

Although he loved your shower time, there was one habit that Seonghwa didn’t like and that was you leaving your notebooks everywhere. It made his daily cleaning harder than it should’ve been.

Never did he look through them, caring too much about not invading your privacy (save for a few months ago where he accidently found out about your fanfic account on AO3). But today was a stressful day already.

All he wanted right now was to lie down with you and watch some cheesy romcoms, accompanied by some snacks. Hongjoong, ever the perfectionist, was under more stress than usual and that meant all the other members were too.

Seonghwa was the nurturing mother, and even he felt like he lacked the energy to be as such with the way things were going right now--a comeback just around the corner.

So, yes, the tall boy was quite peeved today. He needed his charger. He needed you. But you were taking your damn time in the shower and he had to pick up all your damn notebooks from the most random places.

What even was it about these notebooks that you had to buy--or try to buy--a new one every time you entered a shop? Seonghwa never understood your love for them as he had only linked the devilish little thing to his work, where Hongjoong would be composing or writing lyrics.

The last thing he needed right now was something to remind him of his job.

The stress continued to build as this argumentative thoughts accumulated in his head, causing him to drop the hardback in his hands. “Fuck’s sake,” he growled, too pissed off at the moment to notice that your book had oh-so-conveniently opened up.

When he did, however, his fiery anger cooled down at the page, which had a few words on it. Luckily for him, your handwriting was fairly neat (unlike your normal habits) so he could read your little notes.

Phrases, sentences, ideas, the plot line in general, that’s what he got from a first glance. Maybe he could have a peek, seeing as though he was exerting a lot of energy recently.

The words, the plot, everything on that page was something he did not expect. It was smut.

Surely his innocent sweetheart wouldn’t be writing those, right? He gave you the benefit of the doubt when he found out about your fanfics. But you were a sweet girl, and he had always thought you mind was as pure as your heart was.

Then again, no one’s heart is truly pure, and it wasn’t the first time you had been tainted by him.

His eyes scanned your words, finding that it was somewhat vanilla and gentle.

A sigh escaped past his lips when he found that you were still his soft-hearted princess.

Then he noticed it was an old entry. Flicked through the pages and saw that the smut scenes progressively got more frequent and dabbled a little more in the dark side of things. 

His heart plummeted. Not just because your innocence was slowly peeling away, but because he too found himself getting a little interested by it. Especially one of the last entries of that notebook, where he found himself blushing hard enough to turn his normal skin to resemble that of rubies.

Yet, he couldn’t stop.

That was until he heard your voice yelling, "Seonghwa!"

Eyes like those caught in headlights, his large hands shut the book with lightning speed. But you had already caught him snooping.

"What are you doing with my notebooks?" You cheeks a dusty rouge from both the hot water and embarrassment, you snatched away the book from his hands.

"N-Nothing! It fell and opened up and I just..." He sighed, afraid that he'd already broken your trust. "I'm really sorry..."

Exhaling softly when you saw Seonghwa looking like some sort of scolded puppy, you reached on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. Calms him down a little.

“What,” you cleared your throat to rid your voice of fear, “what did you read?”

Now how was he going to play this? Was he going to lie and say it was only one page, or would he say that he had a peruse through the whole thing? As you had caught him already, it would not be a bad idea to tell the truth. “Um...bits and bobs. Just skipped through, really. I’m sorry.”

Smiling softly, albeit a little awkwardly, you patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s fine, I just... didn’t... expect you to... find out this way.”

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I’ve know for about two weeks now, about your... writing.”

“What?!”

Jeong Yunho:

One problem that you have, is that now Yunho knew you wrote fanfics, you became sloppy with hiding it. Not like there was a real need to because--as mentioned--he knew about it. How you loved to write thrillers and suspense and all there strange wacky things you’d find on a documentary about dangerous people.

Though that didn’t mean you never wrote other things as well.

Your works were obviously for a certain age and above (not like the warnings you put matter because the underage ones read it anyway), so writing the occasional smut was normal for you.

In fact, you were comfortable with it. Your personal experience with Yunho, combined with the ones you read online, all fuelled your creativity. Unfortunately, now that you became more open, Yunho had more opportunities to read what you wrote.

Not like it mattered much, you thought, because the words in your google docs were pretty much ineligible from the phrases only you could decode.

Sadly, when it came to smuts (what you wanted in them and what you didn’t), there wasn’t really a way to hide what you were talking about.

So when your tall and rather innocent boyfriend took a sneak peak at your latest entry, he was smacked in the face with the bullet points on there:

Fake dating AU

Cunnilingus

Blindfolds

Size kink

Hand kink

Sir kink

Power play

Complacent sub

(Because for some goddamn reason, every Yunho smut I’ve seen had either a hand kink or size kink...not that I’m complaining tho--)

Was this the stuff you were into? Because he certainly never never knew it. Your sex life with him had been somewhat vanilla due to the fact it only recently started and both of you were still a little too shy to branch out and dabble in other things yet.

His only thoughts until he next saw you were about this. If you were channelling your frustrations into your writing, then he could help you, right? After all, he wasn’t against trying this stuff out. It was a learning experience he was willing to go through. For you.

So when you came back from work, he sat you down on the bed, very nervous with his large hands engulfing your own. Concern would be a drastic understatement.

“Y/N?” You hummed in reply, now thoroughly scared. “I just wanted to let you know... that I’m not afraid of...expanding our experiences and neither should you be.”

Your heart dropped into the abyss of your stomach. “Y-Yunho, are you breaking up with me?”

“Wait, what?” The confusion of this situation seemed rather familiar. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just...” he bit his lip, still quite shy. He really didn’t know how to say this outright.

So he showed you instead.

As your eyes fell on the document of your plan for the next smut scene you had to write, your face dropped. Horror was evident in every part of your expression and he could see that.

“Yunho, I--”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with you wanting to try some of this,” he said, before bashfully looking out the same window you had when you had been discovered. “Besides... I wouldn’t object.”

Now that the both of your faces were redder than roses, the air had become slightly more...still and heavy.

“Listen, Yunho, just so you know, I don’t often write my own preferences. But I suppose trying new things is a bad idea...”

Kang Yeosang:

Almost a year had passed since your boyfriend had found out about your writing (through your clumsy cousin, no less) and you were careful as to what you showed him.

He often helped you through tough times like writer’s block, and understood your strange little habits. Even threw you an idea once in while whenever you were struggling to think of something or even took you out--restaurants, landmarks, whatever would help.

Yeosang was looking after you.

But now? Now, he pampered you.

That had you lowering your guard. He was being so kind, so why not let him read more?

Here’s ‘why not’:

Because he kept pushing his limits. Yeosang and you never had done anything, despite the fact that both of you were living together--by your request, since you had been in quite a few bad relationships where sex was a major factor. So, for the past two years, Yeosang had been alone in his endeavours.

All his intention was to find out what you were into. That was it, he swears. Thought it might at least curb the growing need to have you begging under him--or above him--just have a small glimpse as to what was in store. Maybe even have them as company when he really needed you.

Mission Impossible, is what this felt like, buttering you up, making you feel safe and comfortable (this came naturally since he always wanted you to feel this way with him, horny or not). You were like a fortress, always giving him more but not the stuff that he needed.

So he tried the same tactic he used to get you confess.

Truth or Dare (alone, obviously).

“Seriously? Last time we did it like this, you found out my rather embarrassing secret.”

“Just answer,” he pushed, watching you carefully as you climbed into bed next to him.

“Okay... truth,” you mumbled as you buried your body between his arm and chest.

“How about ‘dare’ this time?”

Your lips released a tired chuckled. ��That’s not how this works, Yeosang...” But after a long few minutes of silence, you caved into his request. “Okay, fine. Dare,” you grumbled after saying something along the lines of, “if you wanted me to do something, then just ask.”

His lips brushed against the lobe of your ear, sending electric shocks down your spine. “I dare you to send me one of your smut fics.”

‘Surprised’ wasn’t really the word you would use to describe the immense shock that hit you like a train. “No.”

“Can’t go back on a dare.”

“But that’s even more embarrassing than having you read my normal fanfics...”

“No, it isn’t. Not to me, at least.”

“Yeosang,” you whined but as it became more and more clear that he would not give up as time passed on, you caved once more. Hesitant, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your works. What was the best one to send to him, you had no idea. “Can I at least ask why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more. All of you...” That one sentence had you more excited than you’d be willing to admit.

After all, it wasn’t just Yeosang who felt alone at nights (and sometimes days) for the past two years. Arguably, it was harder for you since you used to be very...active. Hence why you had such a selection to choose from right now--it was your outlet.

Perhaps it would be best to let him see the one that had you more bothered than anything after writing it--since he wanted to get to know that side of you as well.

Finally making a decision, you handed over your phone with bated breath. What would he think? Would he be weirded out? Would he not be into any of it?

For the boy, however, it was a completely different story; he was too into it. The more he read on, the worse his boner got until he looked physically uncomfortable.

Immediately seeing the discomfort on his face, it was as if your worries became reality. Hand reached out to snatch the phone from his hand but his reflexes were much quicker than yours, pulling the slab away as he kept on reading.

By the time he finished, his breathing was heavy and ragged.

This, sadly, had only made his situation worse. Only purpose this served was to make him crave you even more. Certainly didn’t help to have you leaning over him, soft, bra-less chest beneath thin, stretchy cotton of your shirt against his bare arm, trying to see if he was alright. Definitely had you concerned seeing his pained self.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he humourlessly chuckled, “didn’t know it would affect me as much as it had...”

For some reason, you leaned further down and kissed him. Whether it was because of seeing his hooded eyes or feeling the tension in his muscles as he restrained himself against your body, you didn’t care. Relief was the first thing you felt, knowing that he was just as frustrated as you when you wrote it.

No, he was worse. You could tell by the feverish movement of his mouth against yours. You could tell by the harsh grip he had on your waist. You could tell by the stiffness poking your thigh.

Yeosang pulled away with as much willpower as he could muster, while your lips chased after his. “N-No, we can’t, remember?”

Huffing, you were thoroughly pissed off at the promise you made two years ago with him when you first started out dating. “Yeosang, look at me.”

His gaze was even more reluctant, knowing very well that it would be much more difficult to have the eyes he loved so much staring back at him with as much lust as he had clouding them. But he listened.

“That promise was there so I could get to know you and see if I want to commit to this relationship, long-term, and we’ve had two years to think it--which is long enough for me.” Each hand cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer for a peck since you couldn’t handle being that touch starved anymore. “So, screw me.”

Yeosang didn’t need to be told twice.

Choi San:

It had been a little over a month and San had still not dropped his admiration. Didn’t look as if that was going to change anytime soon either, especially with one of your recent updates.

Your current story had a lot of pent up sexual tension and all your readers (your boyfriend being no exception) were at the point of begging in the notes of each update.

Finally, you decided to take mercy on all the poor folks and finally write that one scene which had them crying with gratefulness at the end.

As it was a long-awaited scene, it had to live up to high expectations. While you could do the most tooth-rotting fluff ever, that wasn’t your style. This scene needed to fit the vibe of your series so the whole bit flowed nicely.

The problem was, everything you wrote was ‘too much’. Too much fluff. Too much kink. Too much basicness. Too much weirdness. Too much awkwardness. Too much cringiness.

Unfortunately, this put you in a bit of a pickle and you were close to losing your damn mind. On the other hand, San--the caring lover he was--had noticed. Wanted to do something nice for you, not just because he could clearly tell it was a bad case of writer’s block and he wanted to you to write more things he could read, but because it hurt him a little inside to see you this frustrated.

Requested a day of, which he got considering how hard he had been working, an spent that day as your personal servant. First up was breakfast in bed--fried egg (sunny side up), beans, buttered toast, hash browns and a tall glass of cold, hand-squeezed orange juice. Not to mention a shirtless San in plaid cotton pants, the only coverage his torso receiving was the pink apron he had on.

Kissed you on the forehead and told you to take your time, then get ready or a day out while he made lunch.

The next two meals went by in a similar fashion, where he had put so much love and care for everything to be perfect for you. Your favourite sandwich and a fruit salad, water and a chocolate chip cookie before a walk in the park where you both fed the ducks in one of the nearby lakes.

Later was dinner--arguably the best one out of them all. Steak with roast potatoes, and steamed vegetables (much to San’s dislike, but he withstood it for you). The day’s activity had you more than tired, cheeks aching slightly from smiling too much. Then again, you didn’t even notice because all you could think about was how lucky you were to land yourself such an amazing boyfriend.

Even after dinner, he continued to treat you like the royalty you were in his eyes. Offered a nice massage to relieve the past week’s tension all pent up in your poor muscles. It was innocent enough...

Until it wasn’t any more.

Despite the cloths thrown about everywhere on the bed, neither of you had motioned to clean up and San had instead opted to run you a bubble bath. Scented candles and all. It was more relaxing than you had imagined it to be, and by the time your face rested on San’s now-clothed torso--both of you wrapped snuggly up--you fell asleep.

The man loved the sight, and for once, he actually enjoyed running after you, making sure your every need was fulfilled whether you expressed it or not.

Because throughout the day, you were the happiest he had seen in a while, and all his efforts let up to this sight: you cuddled up close with that beautiful, enchanting smile faintly on your plush lips that he had so gently attacked not two hours ago.

He found himself loving you even more; a pleasant surprise as he had thought his cup was close to overflowing.

Two days later, he found himself falling even deeper when you had finally posted your latest chapter. San found himself grinning by the end of it--a little turned on, but more happy than anything.

Because San’s magic had worked. Cured your painful writer’s block since the words simply flowed as you typed the scene that had been causing you hell.

And whole chapter was awfully similar to that special day when San decided to take care of you.

Just tweaked a little so it would be more smut than it was fluff, adding just the right amount of sweetness that allowed your story to continue to flow perfectly.

Which was why San had been more joyous than usual the past week.

You were a perceptive person so you caught the change in his usual demeanour rather quickly. The source of it, however, was beyond you (he was good at hiding his knowledge of your secret). Any reason you tried to pin down on him was a little off.

Stress? No, he was too happy for that. Upcoming event? None that you knew of, and he shared everything of importance with you. Feeling happy just because? San was the more emotional out of the two of you and none of his moods lasted this long.

So what was it?

It was frustrating to say the least, but your boyfriend wasn’t letting it out. And you don’t think he ever will.

“Oh well,” you mumble, “can’t be that bad if he’s so happy...”

Song Mingi:

The boys had made a pact when they began to read your stories: no reading smuts with the group. This was fairly easy since they would normally be oneshots and you generally weren’t one to write them often into your series. On the odd occasion you did, you often put up a warning and explained straight after if there were any important bits.

All in all, very easy to avoid.

Mingi was a gigantic baby, and with babies, comes curiosity. A sense of need to know what’s happening. An insatiable thirst for knowledge and experience. Suppose what is trying to be said here is, is that Mingi wanted to read the explicit stuff you wrote.

What went on inside that wonderous brain of yours, he wanted to find out. But he couldn’t do that with the boys, nor did he want to. No chance in hell he was gonna be caught with an awkward boner.

Never would he live that one down.

So his plan commenced at night, when everyone in the dorms were fast asleep, he opened up his phone.

Now would normally come the dilemma of what to read, but Mingi is not that patient; as mentioned before, he is a giant baby. The first post he found that fit his criteria was the one that he read. Coincidently, that was result of your ‘experimental’ ones.

Using metallic things wasn’t something you had tried yet with Mingi, but you though you’d take it for a test run through your work to at least see it clearly how it would run if something like that was to happen. Sometimes, you found, it’s makes more sense to write it out rather to keep in your head.

On the other hand, Mingi didn’t really know that your writings stemmed from mild curiosity rather than what your really into (not that you would particularly mind trying some of it out). In his head, this was what you wanted to do.

He’d be lying if he said that the idea wasn’t much of a turn on, and the time he  spent trying not to make a sound loud enough to wake up the other members would prove that. To him, this is was your wish and he would gladly comply to it.

The next day, he decided to run along with the theme, but to also add in a few twists of his own. You often liked that, both in and out of the bedroom.

Went out to buy some new rings for you, larger ones decorated with pretty gems for his pretty baby (even though he was one himself). Handcuffs, too, were ordered online, and a silver-chain choker--he made sure to double check it was safe to use. Next up was a little metal ball--he got this idea from the pokey challenge and something called the ‘passion fruit kiss’ on snapchat. Either way, he was excited to try it.

Babies like Mingi, as mentioned, have little patience and so he wanted to try it out as soon as possible, so the moment everything came, he quickly sterilised everything and waited for you to come home.

Made sure each metal piece was cold to the touch by keeping it in the fridge, and had a rolled up black silk tie stuffed in his pocket to act as a makeshift blindfold.

Sensory deprivation was the ‘twist’ he wanted to put on, since you both had tried something similar before with ice cubes and that went quite well...until it became too cold for Mingi’s mouth and that plan had to be scrapped sooner--hence fridge, for a little bit of coldness.

When you finally arrived, he looked like an excited puppy, and you had no idea why. Until he spun you around and tied a soft cloth over your eyes. “Mingi, I’m really tired and I just--”

“Shhhhh,” Mingi lulled right next to your ear, warm breath fanning over the nape of your neck which felt more sensitive than usual, “trust me?”

Sigh escaping past your lips, because yes, of course you trusted him. And now that you felt slightly more awake from his action, maybe you were willing to hear him out. ”Baby, what are you doing?”

Chuckling that followed your question was deeper than normal. Had it always been like that or was it your mind playing tricks on you? Either way, he didn’t answer and all you had heard was the fridge opening.

“Seriously, baby, what are you doing?” Now you were just nervous, all intentions of a lazy evening down the drain as your heart sped up.

It closed, and shortly after your lips were met with his, a faint taste of strawberry attached to them. Then something smooth and cold slipped past from him to you.

The metal ball was passed between the two of you in a playful game of which only your boyfriend knew the rules of.

When he could tell your guard was down and now you became a little more comfortable, Mingi slowly took your hands behind your back.

You had not paid attention, but you should have. Cold, tight restraints pressed against your skin, shockwaves making you gasp from the low temperature. But Mingi kept on going, kissing you to ease your tension.

Two metal things, so there must be a third, right? You knew about people’s strange obsession with threes so you completely expected another cold metal object to come into play. But the question was, what?

You soon found out when a thick chain choker brushed against your neck, clasping around it snuggly. This was it. This was the third and final one. And your suspicions seemed correct when you had not felt another chilly accessory grace your skin.

You wouldn’t have, not when the coldest of all the items--the rings--were being slipped onto your boyfriend’s fingers. You were in for a surprise in just a few moment.

Needless to say, there was only one thought swirling around in your head.

Maybe he isn’t that much of a baby.

Jung Wooyoung:

Ever since Wooyoung found out your fanfics were not about him, but his favourite K-Pop band, BTS, he had been...difficult. Moping around, trying to play for your attention a lot more than normal, not letting you have some peace of quiet with your computer.

It was almost as if he was jealous. You knew how needy the boy could be, wanting skinship with you more than he did with San. Knowing that you were fawning over men that weren’t him had certainly done something to him.

But Wooyoung knew you were no-nonsense. The complete opposite of him. It was exactly why he fell for you, and it was exactly why he wasn’t being as petty as he wanted at the moment.

He knew deep down you were his and he was yours.

Then again, that still didn’t stop him from feeling jealous, and had even gone so far as to decrease the amount he listened to BTS’ songs--especially around you.

At first, you didn’t notice the change since Wooyoung was often spontaneous so his behavioural pattern was difficult to decipher. Eventually there came a point where the clinginess increased so much, you couldn’t feign ignorance anymore.

Looking back, maybe you should not have burst his bubble and let him think that your fanfics were about him... Actually, no; either way, the moment he found out about your hobby, it was going to be hell. But now you just feel bad.

Yet, you don’t feel bad enough to stop. You never actually fantasised about being with them--it was just fun to write about. Clearly, he didn’t understand.

Your boyfriend seemed to be at his tipping point when he came back to you after a long day of dance practices that went sideways, typing away intently on your computer.

This was his time. You usually spend time with Wooyoung when he came back, but you were too busy to comfort him in his desperate time of need. Too busy with fantasising about Taehyung’s large hands or Namjoon’s dimpled smile.

Wooyoung was as cute as Hoseok and Jungkook. He had a unique laugh like Seokjin and was as flirty as Jimin.

He had all your favourite qualities in a partner so why spend time thinking about other men? He was literally right there, begging for your attention and yet, now it seemed as if you gave him none (which wasn’t true since the only thing you’ve done is become less secretive about writing).

When his attempts at distracting you from writing had fail, he tried to see what exactly it was you were writing about. Unfortunately, you had tried to hid it from his sight; the only thing that helped in doing was pissing him off even further.

Only after a tough struggle did he finally see what you had been so focused on that you had neglected him.

It was more BTS fanfic, but this one was worse. This one had him fuming--skin hot red and ears pooling out steam. This one was smut.

It was about no other than Yoongi, and by God, was it a rough.

That was how you liked it, and so did Wooyoung. Probably why he was so angry while reading about mirror sex with one of his fellow idols; you were just twiddling your thumbs in the corner, not sure about how badly your boyfriend was going to burst.

Wooyoung, no matter how mad he was, he had to admit... it did turn him on. Although, he was a prideful boy--not liking how you thought about others and more importantly, how threatened he felt while reading it.

Suddenly realising that it wasn’t enough just being all the perfect parts you liked (even if it came naturally to him).

He had a point to prove; Wooyoung could go beyond your wildest fantasies--and boy was it a wild fantasy.

Throwing your phone haphazardly somewhere (making you wince in prayer that it was not broken), your boyfriend gripped you by the wrist and dragged you across the room. You had barely enough time to realise what he was doing, only feeling a cold surface against your back as his lips ravished yours.

At some point, he broke away--lips swollen and slightly more red than normal. To say the sight had not affected you more than you already were would be a lie.

Still not giving you enough time to speak, Wooyoung turned you around so you could finally see what he had you pressed against.

A mirror.

If an idea of what he was planning hadn’t dawned on you, having his fingers tug at your clothes certainly gave you one now. His free hand had clasped around your jaw, making you look right into your reflection, seeing how your boyfriend’s lips were dangerously close to your ears as he looked at you dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Let me show you that I can be better than your imagination. Let me show you that you need to think about no one but me. Let me show you how good you’ll feel and who is the sole reason behind it.”

Yes, Wooyoung has all your favourite qualities in a partner while exceeding all expectations. That’s why you’re dating him.

Choi Jongho:

Ever since the release of your first movie and publication of the book it was based on, your career had blossomed. Finally, you quit the job that had been draining the life out of you to work full time at the publishing company.

Everyone around you could tell you were much happier, and the one who noticed it the most was Jongho.

Sure, your eyes were less sunken in, your cheeks more red, your step more bouncy. But he could feel that you changed on the inside too.

Your smile didn’t feel so forced after you came back from work and he had asked you how the day was. Now, your boyfriend found himself talking less and listening more to what you had to say.

If there was an expression more powerful to describe how he loved this happier version of you, he would use it in a heartbeat.

Sure, there were still times when the both of you couldn’t hang out as much as you would like to, but that was always in the job description, and the both of you were more than happy with it as long as the bed had both of you in it at the end of the day, both metaphorically and literally.

Then came along your second movie deal of a completely different story. In fact, it was based upon a movie you had watched at the time, and you hated it so much that you simply redid the entire thing.

In fact, it had irked you to the point no one could even tell it was based off of something since you had changed so much of it. However, there were still concepts you kept in the story--intimate scenes, for example (even if they too were completely changed).

You wrote such concepts before, and you would continue to do so since it was just interesting to write. Jongho, however, did not know about it.

At all.

So once your second movie was released, he was in for a surprise.

It was miraculous how terrible your memory was, since you had forgotten that you had not told him about the scene that would come up as you both watched it at home just before it’s release in the cinemas.

‘Surprise’ wasn’t really the word Jongho would use when it did come up, nor would it be ‘shock’. He was... mildly curious? Not that either... Well, all he knew that whatever he was feeling was not overwhelming.

“Did you know they changed this scene?” you spoke up.

“Really?”

Humming, you nodded your head. “They said the original scene was... Let’s just say they thought it was ‘too much’.” Then you scoffed under your breath. “Don’t know why they thought that though. It was fairly vanilla. Just some wall sex is all,” you confessed.

Now he felt a little overwhelmed. But he was mainly amused. “I don’t remember doing that with you.”

“Hmm? Oh... that’s because we didn’t.”

Chuckling under his breath, he cocked his head to the side, the paused scene in the background long forgotten. “Have you ever wanted to try it?”

“Once upon a time. Suggested it to my ex once before but he couldn’t lift me up since I was ‘way too heavy’,” you recalled with air quotations. “Didn’t bother trying after that.” You laughed at the memory, finding it to be hilarious back then and even now.

But your boyfriend on the other hand had not. In fact, he was no longer amused.

He was pissed.

It wasn’t about the fact that you had mentioned your ex--he never felt even remotely threatened by him. It was because he had called you heavy. He called his precious darling ‘heavy’. And you just laughed.

That was who you were--no matter how mean another person was being to you, you took it as a joke and moved on. You saw no point in dwelling over the bad, and that was one of the many genuine things he had fallen for. This time was different; it annoyed him.

Sure it might have been a dumb little memory for you, yet simply hearing about it had his blood boiling.

“Get up.”

“Wha--why?” The dark look in his eye had your lips sealing within the second. As if on autopilot, your body stood from the sofa you two were so comfortably perched on.

He followed you up, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, which only meant one thing. “Jongho--no. You won’t be able to.”

“Am I or am I not the strongest man you’ve ever met?”

“You are, but--”

“‘But’ I don’t care.” Forcefully, he lifted you up as you yelped, legs wrapping around his waist. “See? I can pick you up completely fine.”

Scanning his face, you saw that what he said was true. He picked you up as if you were as light as a feather, no tension in his neck, face, or arms to suggest he was having a hard time either.

It had you leaning against him, forehead touching forehead, laughing even more than you did before. Smile once again etched on his face, Jongho pecked your lips, walking slowly with you in his arms.

“Now shush and let me fuck you against the wall.”

#ATEEZ #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #seonghwa #park seonghwa #yunho #jeong yunho #yeosang #kang yeosang #san #choi san #mingi #song mingi #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jongho #choi jongho #request #suggestive #fluff #slight angst #but mainly fluff

[k1nky-fool]

What's Left Unsaid

Part 3/?

Masterlist

Pairing: Kugo Sakamata x OC

m/f pairing

Rating: Mature

Warnings: A bit of spice, still SFW for now, Kugo's just a little stupid but it's ok.

Taglist: @himawari-senpaii @korosenseisfucktoy @tired-aussie @pro-crastinator14

-Maeko-

It had to be before dawn. Restless sleep was always a factor for her, so this wasn't very out of the ordinary. It was a little odd to be in such a large room.

The two bags from her old house were set beside the futon. The first was a backpack filled with basic essentials, like a few changes of clothes, cell phone charger and rechargeable battery pack, some general first aid supplies including medications, and regular hygiene supplies. And the second was a tote bag of Kazu's favorite toys and snacks. This whole experience would really hurt him, so the least she could do was minimize the pain of it all.

Maeko explored the apartment, finding just about everything she needed, the one thing that stood out was an entire, personalized, gym on the lower level. Might as well take advantage of the facilities. She needed to get out some frustration anyway.

In perfect honesty, she was still angry. Kugo could say every right thing, and she would still feel shit about it. It really wasn't his fault. It wasn't his job to take responsibility for her emotions, even if he did decide to be kind. As he always did for some reason.

Her hands and feet were wrapped so as not to injure herself on the punching back. Exercise clothes exposed her legs, stomach, and arms to cool herself. But her thoughts light-years away, letting rage move her arms and legs into striking the bag with all her strengths.

It was impossible to shake the feeling that this was all her fault. That if she had done even just one thing differently, that Kazu would be safe, and none of this would be a problem. She could have killed Tamaka when she found her. She could have given All Might a better reason to take her down, instead of just showing him she was a crime lord. Maybe she could have gotten a pro hero involved as soon as it looked like Tamaka was making a move and gathering her forces.

Maeko had to stop kicking the bag. She was doing the same repetitive hit over and over again, and her shin was starting to sting an uncomfortable amount.

"I thought I might find you down here."

Her instinct was to lock into his words, even if she knew Kugo meant no harm. He just startled her. But when her vision turned purple, Maeko was officially curious about what he was hiding. "And what exactly did you expect me to be doing?"

"Wallowing in self hatred." He answered easily. "Rethinking every choice you've ever made to maybe find one decision that ruined everything." She still didn't look over to him.

She looked down at her hands, readjusting the wrappings as a half-assed was to not only avoid his eyeline, but also to hide the way her eyes went pink. How was it that Kugo so easily gave that emotion without thinking?

"I take it you speak from experience, then."

"More than you would like to believe." He agreed. "But I also know it's best to find an outlet for it before you hurt anyone with it."

"Hence the punching bag." Maeko finally brought herself to look at him and every coherent thought in her head stopped all at once.

It finally occurred to her that she had never actually seen him out of his hero suit. Let alone in gym shorts and a white tank top. That suit did no justice to his physical form; the man looked like he could split her in half with ease, and she was kind of hoping he would.

"Maeko?"

Shit, he was talking. "Uhh, what? I didn't catch that." In her blank minded action, she attempted to lean on the hanging punching bag, only to be thrown off balance when it turned. It took her a lot longer to regain her balance and just put her hands on her hips than she cared to admit.

Kugo just stared at her, though without saying anything, she couldn't really tell what was going on in his head. He walked up to her calmly, stopping just a few feet in front of her so that he towered over her. "Spar with me."

"You-" Maeko stopped herself for a moment. Sparring with him would clearly mean being a lot closer to him than she'd ever tried to be. And since she couldn't lie, and had a habit of saying whatever came to mind in times of heightened emotion, this had to be a trap of some kind. "You are challenging me, to spar with you?"

"You clearly proved you can beat the shit out of a bag." He said, "So, yes. I am challenging you."

When her vision was tinted purple once again, she knew she had to find another way to get the information out of him. He'd already figured a way around her quirk by leaving just enough unsaid that she got the same result every time she checked. Though, if there was anything Maeko knew about Kugo, it was that he often lost control of his words as soon as his mind went blank. "I'm barely half your size."

"All the more opportunity to surprise me." He countered, walking to the mat for Maeko to follow. Her vision remained purple.

"What kind of surprises are you expecting?"

"If I could expect it, then it wouldn't be a surprise." Still purple.

Kugo stood in a defensive position, ready for Maeko to make the first attack. "Well, you could humor me about what your expectations are."

"Why would I do that when letting you guess is much more fun?" Still fucking purple.

"Because you want to be surprised." Maeko looked up innocently at him, as though she wasn't frustrated out of her mind that he wouldn't give her anything to go on.

In an instant she threw a kick at his side, but it didn't catch him off guard like she hoped. Instead Kugo caught her leg with ease, and shoved her back, forcing her to lose her balance and fall on the padded floor. In one movement he pinned her to the ground with her leg held tightly at his hip.

Kugo hung over her smugly. "And yet, I'm surprised that's all you have."

Maeko's jaw dropped slightly. But by the time she actually processed what he had said and done, it was too late to activate her quirk. "I'm not sure you can handle all I have."

"Only one way to find out." Kugo got off her and helped her up. "Try again."

Whatever had gotten into him last night must have been damn important. This was an entire 180 from the awkward, babbling Kugo that had a conversation go so unexpectedly that he immediately fled the scene. Maeko remembered being carried to the futon, but not exactly what she said or did, which was a recipe for disaster no matter how she looked at it.

Maeko stood with more attention, attempting to shake off the heat of the lingering touch on her hand. Her training was somewhat in physical fighting, though she very obviously didn't have any chance against a pro hero, let alone one that relied almost exclusively on hand-to-hand combat.

She couldn't rely on force. Her training was in dodging for as long as she could, only landing a hit when necessary to keep her enemy at bay. Kugo was too big for her to use force. However, what she could do was direct him by dodging and pulling him with his own weight. Let him run himself into the ground with just a push in the right direction. Though for that to work, she would have to get him to attack. Unfortunately, she wasn't having much luck getting him to give her anything.

Maeko moved quickly, but didn't attack. She would wait for the moment he shifted his weight. Moving around behind him, she took a jab at his rib, but moved away fast enough to have him grasping at air when he attempted to lock her again. She wasn't quick enough to get him to move when she needed him to.

Despite his size, Kugo was still extraordinarily quick on his feet. He pivoted on his foot, moving around to snag her in another kick, but Maeko didn't risk it. Instead she clasped his wrist under her arm and pulled him forward, causing him to lose balance and topple to the ground.

Unfortunately, the detective wasn't fast enough to pivot out of his way and successfully pin him. Kugo wasn't having it, and pulled Maeko back, pinning her to the floor again.

She groaned as the floor hit her back with a deep thud. He was over her again, and as much as she loved feeling every muscle underneath her fingertips, it was going to get really old, really fast, if she had to get thrown to the ground just to get a taste of it.

"Using my weight and force against me. Smart." He noted fairly. "But if it takes you one failure to come up with a decent plan, then you're already dead."

"But I'm not dead." Maeko wiggled in his hold, though what caught her attention was how Kugo went stiff for a brief moment as she moved.

He gained his composure again quickly, moving off her and helping her up again. "You will be if you don't make your plan before you face an enemy." He chastised. "There are villains and culprits out there that are a lot more powerful than Tamaka or Maris."

"And somehow, I've survived all of them."

Kugo let out a sigh. "You're only a little insufferable, you know that, right?"

Maeko froze where she stood. That certainly rang a bell. Though, this could be used to her advantage. If she wanted to win, she had to use everything at her disposal. "Just wait until I win."

Just by observing his face, something changed. He was ready for another plan, another attempt of some kind. Maeko would have to make this believable. Obviously the only way to convince Kugo, was just to make an honest attempt.

She took a deep breath and darted to his side. She attempted to kick his head but she was caught. And pinned again. That was a much shorter attempt than she would have liked.

"What was that about winning, Maeko?"

She really shouldn't have activated her quirk. She knew it was a mistake before she did it, but despite this not being anywhere near part of the plan, this was probably the clearest intent he's spoken with all morning.

The lights in the room turned a deep red that she hadn't seen in quite some time, and it took everything Maeko had to keep herself together. Breathing deeply, she made a slow and deliberate movement as her hand wandered up his shoulder and stayed on his chest. "So, it hasn't occurred to you that I might be exactly where I want to be?"

"I don't see why you would want to be here, seeing as you've lost again." Kugo replied.

"Really?" She asked. "You don't see why I might want to be pinned to the mats beneath you, at all?"

Maeko gently curled his shirt into her fist, ever so slightly making him lean closer. "Kugo, if you wanted to be on top, you just had to ask."

He was close enough that she could feel him tense for a second before relaxing. His guard was down.

In one swift movement, Maeko forced him up and rolled him to the side, successfully pinning him under her. Though 'pinning' was a loose term. Kugo was large enough that even sitting on top his stomach meant only one of her knees, on either side of him, could be touching the ground at a time, but Maeko was clearly getting her point across.

"Though, I'm not at all opposed to this view either." She gave a toothy smirk as she peered down at him. "And you're a lot heavier than you look." She noted how much force she had to exert just to get him to roll, even when his guard was down.

Kugo's hands went to her thighs, and it only took a small pull on his part to teeter her forward to where she had to hold her hands on either side of his head just to stop from smacking her forehead into his nose.

He didn't say anything, though there must have been a lot going through his head to be staring with such intensity. Maeko, for her part, stayed still, wrestling with her own thoughts as she waited, wide eyes, for him to make just one move. Or was this his way of trying to get her to make a decision?

If she were to make the move, what would she do? Kiss him? Right here, right now? Right before they were to supposedly make a public spectacle of their relationship? That didn't seem like a wise idea. Though, every second his hands stayed on her legs, she was all the more tempted to just abandon work.

Suddenly, there was a noise at the top of the stairs, which forced Maeko to get off Kugo and reorient herself in record time. "Good morning, Kazu!"

"Hi, mom." He rubbed his eye, clearly still tired and groggy. "Do I have to go to school today?"

"Oh.. umm, no bud. We're gonna have to find a new school for you." She said, walking up to the boy and kneeling down to his eye level. "But, today you're gonna be spending the day with Fatgum."

"Really!?" Kazu woke all the way up.

"Yeah, he'll be here in about-" Maeko looked to the clock on the wall. "Thirty minutes."

"Ok! I'll get ready!" Kazu got himself up the stairs quickly, probably to go get dressed and find the snacks in the bag by the futon.

It did catch her a little off guard how long she's been sparring. Time flies when you're intentionally creating sexual tension with a man twice your size to gain the upper hand in a sparring challenge. Which, now that she thinks about it, doesn't happen often, but it has happened more than once to her. Somehow, Kugo also wasn't the only pro hero either.. or the only ocean animal mutation quirk hero....God, did Maeko have a type?

"Maeko-"

"I'll go help Kazu get ready." She stated, undoing the wrappings on her hands quickly. "Then we should head into work. I'll figure out a way to get rumors out about you having a girlfriend. Because of your image as a private person, talk shows and tabloids will be on us fast. I hope your public relations department is ready for this mess."

"So, you're not going to try to address that?"

Maeko turned around, meeting his gaze with careful calculation. What did he want her to say about that? What did she even want to say about it? In truth, she didn't want to say anything about it. Instead she just wanted to kiss him like she meant to earlier. Show him instead of telling him. But now was not the time.

"I am going to make sure my son is ready to leave with his babysitter, then we are going to work." She said, "We can talk about it later, but right now, I have something else to do."

He took a moment, but nodded in agreement. Kugo didn't press about it, instead he took a step back and allowed Maeko to continue.

Kazu got himself ready for the most part while Maeko took a shower and got dressed. The young boy brought his backpack to her on the couch for her approval of his packing for the day. "What did you pack?"

"I have some goldfish, and a water bottle, and the phone, and a charger, and some toys." He listed off proudly.

Maeko looked around in the bag finding everything he listed off. She had given him the phone specifically to contact her and because it had a GPS on it, so she could find him. It also didn't hurt that it was a source of entertainment for a hyperactive five year old. Her hand stumbled across some plastic snack bags with various seeds and nuts in them. "What are the seeds?"

"Those are apple seeds, those are wisteria seeds, those are honeysuckle, and those are poison ivy." He said.

"Kazu, you know poison ivy isn't something we use. You could get hurt or somebody else coul-" Her voice stopped as soon as she held it in her hand. It was the Gang Orca action figure he showed Kugo.

It wasn't in the bag that Aikawa brought over. She was worried Kazu would never see it again, but here it was. The only way it could have gotten here is if Kazu put it in his bag before the attack. He kept his promise to Kugo to keep the figure safe.

He would be with a pro hero all day. And Kazu had only ever used his quirk in self defense. Poison ivy wasn't extremely deadly, and Fatgum would be there to supervise him. And should an attack happen and Fatgum was busy, then Kazu might need something to protect himself with. This might be all he has. He was still so young, but Kazu understood a lot more than she wanted to believe.

"When would you use the poison ivy?" She asked.

"When I have to run away super fast and the bad guys are trying to get me." He said very seriously.

It hurt Maeko to think that Kazu was forced to know about dangerous people and how they could hurt him, but it was better that he knew when he was in danger and how to protect himself to his best ability. "Fatgum will be with you. You're only allowed to use the poison ivy if he isn't there."

"Ok!" Kazu nodded.

"Alright. The other seeds are fine, but you can only grow three of the other seeds today." She said. "If you overuse your quirk, you could get hurt."

The young boy nodded again. The doorbell rang, calling her and Kazu to the door. Sure enough Taishiro was waiting for them. "Hey, buddy! What's up?"

"I have goldfish!" Kazu exclaimed confidently.

"That's pretty cool." He said.

"Hey, uh.." Maeko pulled a bit of money out of her pocket. "Could you get him some breakfast?" She offered it to him. "This morning was a bit of a rush, and I think he just ate a handful of skittles and cheetos."

"Sure." Taishiro said, but closed her hand around the money without taking it. "But it's on me. It's the least I can do for you guys."

Maeko smiled. He had to know this wasn't much, but it meant the world to her. To know that people had her back. "Thank you."

Taishiro and Kazu bid her goodbye. With the door closed, Maeko took a deep breath. This was temporary, she reminded herself. But now she had to work.

…

-Kugo-

"Yes, I know it's short notice, and it's a very odd request, but how fast can you get people gossiping about Gang Orca?" Maeko asked over the phone, side-eying Kugo who was sitting in her office, reviewing the evidence.

"Ya'know, when you called me after all this time, I was kinda hoping it would be for reasons a little more spicy." The woman on the other end suggested.

Kugo could hear the sharp voice through the phone. "Nemuri, it's for a case." Maeko pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm trying to bait someone into the open. It just so happens she has a specific obsession with Gang Orca."

"Oh, so you want me to spread the word that he's taken a lover, so the tabloids pick up everything and hopefully you get him an interview where he can miraculously confess that he's been dating a very sexy and rowdy detective-"

"Sure, that's exactly it." Maeko cut her off, receiving a bark of laughter from Nemuri. "Now can you do it, or am I gonna have to just kiss him in front of some cameras to start the rumor myself?"

"While I would love to see that as much as you want to do it, it's a little too direct for a starting move." She noted. "You probably asked me in the first place because she's a little too smart to fall for that, no matter how obsessed she is with Gang Orca."

Maeko chuckled into the phone. "Can I count on you?"

"Sure. It's been a while since I had something this juicy to talk about." Nemuri agreed. "But I absolutely have to know… Are you as demanding with him as you were in college?"

"Thank you, Nemuri, that'll be all." Maeko rolled her eyes and hung up the phone. An awkward silence hung in the air while she tried to ignore the way Kugo was looking at her.

"Midnight, huh?" He noted, setting the file he was looking over down on the table.

"I need someone that can spread rumors to other heroes fast." Maeko justified it to him. "You'll have an interview that mentions it before the weekend."

She knew damn well that wasn't what he meant. Kugo picked up the report again. "You knew her well in college?"

Maeko snatched the papers from his hand, where he could then see her face redden almost beyond recognition. "Don't you have a patrol to be on?"

"We still have a conversation we need to have."

"Maybe I'm not ready to have that conversation." She argued back.

Kugo stood up, towering over her. "I will keep reminding you until you are ready."

"Much appreciated." She never lied, and this was no different. At the very least, Kugo knew he could trust what she said.

Kugo stopped in the doorway before he completely left. "Maeko." She turned her attention to him once again. "I'm not angry with you. Just let me know when or if you're comfortable with it."

…

Maeko had found enough things to worry about right now, but by the evening, when Kugo was done with his patrol and most of the work for the day, everyone was running around busying themselves with something or other. He looked outside his office door for just a moment.

"Maeko, you mind telling me why my entire agency is running around in a panic?" Kugo asked, breaking Maeko's focus.

"Nemuri did a little too well about the gossip. I don't know who she talked to, but at least seven people that I haven't talked to since college have texted me about it." Maeko explained.

"I figured as much. Several fellow pros have asked about it as well." He grumbled.

"Oh yeah?" Maeko was suddenly very interested. "Who's asking?"

Kugo pulled out his phone to check. "All Might, Fatgum, Best Jeanist, Ectoplasm, Crimson Riot, Gunhead, and Fourth Kind." He read out. "Really, they're just surprised that the news spread so fast. Most are just asking if I'm aware the rumor is circulating. Though, Fatgum… had a lot to say."

"Oh yeah," Maeko realized. "He's a close friend of mine, and he's been there for me and Kazu on many occasions. He's uhmmm… very protective of me."

"He said 'if you dare hurt her, I'll put you in a blender and mix you with my milkshake.' with a heart emoji." Kugo read off.

"That sounds about right." She admitted.

Another notification beeped on Kugo's phone. "Hey, Maeko… I've got a personal request for a TV interview."

-X-

-Maeko-

She wasn't allowed in the recording room just yet, instead they placed her backstage in a room with a TV to watch what Kugo was saying. What had surprised her was that the interviewer said she also wanted to bring Maeko on stage as well.

The more Maeko thought about it, the more it made sense. Not just for the show, but also for the case. Though, if Ms. Haruta asked about something pertaining to the case that Maeko didn't want to be public, it might cause a problem because her quirk made it impossible to lie.

Another beat of silence passed, then the TV came off of commercial break.

"I'm here with pro hero Gang Orca to discuss some interesting rumors that have surfaced. But first, Gang Orca, is there anything you would personally like to say to the audience?" Ms. Haruta asked with a chipper tone.

"I did not intend for this to blow up in the way it did." Kugo began. "I prefer to keep my personal life and professional life separate from one another, but now that the rumor has grown beyond control, it is better to address it now than to let people wildly speculate."

Maeko immediately wanted to lock into his words, but instead she was hit with an annoying throb of pain to her eyes. She can't lock into words from a sound system.

Was he trying to speak directly to her? Was he saying he could only wildly speculate about what happened yesterday morning? Or was she overthinking the whole comment?

"Of course. Now I'm sure we all want to know, who exactly is this mysterious partner of yours? When did you meet?" She asked.

"We've been together for a few months. She's a detective. I met her on a case a while back and we were friends for a bit before she asked me out." That was something she didn't expect him to say. That technicality would make it easier for her to add to the conversation without having to lie. "I should have figured people would eventually find out and start talking, but that was a shortsight on my part."

Ms. Haruta smiled. Maeko was impressed that he was very good at giving as little information as possible.

"And what kind of case did you meet her in?"

"I'm not permitted to discuss details of the case. But for public purposes, it was a missing person. That case is still unsolved." He said. That would make things a little difficult. Maeko wouldn't be able to talk about that specifically.

"What initially drew you into her? What about this detective captured the attention of a pro hero like you?" Maeko knew two things about this question. One, that it quite aggressively made 'a pro hero like you' sound rude. And two, Maeko desperately wanted to know exactly what was going through his head right the fuck now.

"I-" Kugo knew Maeko was listening intently. "What draws anyone to someone else? I guess she was just… interesting. The first thing she said to me was 'Shit, he's massive.'- wait, am I allowed to swear?"

"No, but it's for historical accuracy, right?"

"Of course." The both of them laughed about it. "So yeah, those were the first words I heard her say. And not many people are brave enough to say something like that right out of the gate. I didn't find out till later that a drawback of her quirk is that sometimes she doesn't have a filter and will just say whatever comes to mind."

"I'm sure we're all curious, what is her quirk?" Ms. Haruta grinned like a child.

"I'm not sure I could explain it if I tried." He conceded.

"Well, we should have her explain it herself." Someone opened the door to the booth she was in, gesturing to have her come out onto stage.

"Everybody, please welcome, Detective Maeko Onami!" The crowd cheered with the blinking sign as she went to sit down next to Kugo.

Between the lights, the crowd and Kugo placing a small kiss on her forehead, there was a lot going on.

"So, Ms. Onami." Haruta started. "What's it like dating the number fourteen hero?"

"He's ranked fourteen this year?" She asked. The crowd gave a small chuckle. "Sorry, I should know that. It's just never really come up. Umm… I mean, he's an absolute gentleman. And also very strong… he's swept me off my feet in more than one way."

"Oh yeah? Tell us, what's been your favorite date with Gang Orca?" Haruta asked.

Of course she would ask something like that. "Well, keeping it appropriate for television…" that earned another chuckle. "He's a lot of fun to spar with. Obviously, he pulls his punches, because I'm half his size and not nearly as skilled in hand-to-hand combat as he is, but he keeps me on my toes. He won't use his quirk on me, so It's nice to have a night in and happily punch at each other."

"Have you ever beaten him?" She asked.

"Once!" Maeko grinned, as she felt Kugo go tense up a bit. "I won't say how, because I imagine it might be a bad idea to tell the public how to beat a pro hero, but I managed to get him once." She felt him relax again.

"Of course. Now Gang Orca mentioned something about your quirk. Would you mind sharing?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a lie detector. But that also means that I physically can't lie, which sometimes means I don't know how to keep my mouth shut." She said.

"Well, then you can't keep much hidden from him."

"Well, he can't hide anything from me either. Honesty is involuntary." She didn't know what it was, but every bit of this conversation was exhausting.

Haruta only began asking another question. "Now, some have said they've seen that you two have a child." Both of them tensed up, but Maeko must have shown it for Kugo to place an assuring hand over hers.

She could tell Kugo was about to deny it, but Maeko interrupted. "He's my son." She said quickly. "Umm… I didn't really want to bring him up, but that's my son, Kazuki. Kugo's not in the dark about that. I'm amazed the way he stepped up for Kazu and I. Even when I had just met him, he just helped for no reason. And I love him for that."

The audience and Ms. Haruta all swooned, but Kugo was the only one that understood exactly what she had just done. And maybe he would understand what she had just said.

For some reason the rest of the interview went by much faster after she had said that. The two of them said their farewells to the crew and left the building. The second they were out of everyone's sight, Kugo pulled her by the forearm.

"What the fuck was that?" He berated, but he didn't raise his voice at all. "You just completely threw out your whole plan and improvised as soon as shit hit the fan."

Her quirk made her vision go yellow. "Give me some credit, Kugo." She snatched her arm out of his hand which he let go of as soon as she resisted. "I'm not a fucking moron. I'm a detective, and sometimes, when an opportunity presents itself, you have to take it."

"What the hell kind of opportunity did you see? The opportunity to put Kazuki in danger?"

"To draw out more of our prey." She argued. "Think about it for just one second, dumbass. Maris is prone to lashing out in anger as soon her obsessive self-deception of your devotion is challenged."

"We already knew that."

"Yeah, but so long as there's Tamaka to calm her down, this will take a while. But there are a few things we know about Tamaka."

"Care to share with me exactly what those things are?"

Maeko stared at him like he had missed something big. "Dude, did you even look over the evidence in my office?"

Kugo went quiet. "I- I might have… missed a few things."

She rolled her eyes. "Come with me."

-X-

Maeko brought him to the agency to look over the evidence he managed to completely forget. He didn't even bother arguing when she pushed him into the chair in front of her organized board.

"Alright, what do you remember?" She asked.

"Emiko Tamaka was a crime lord that All Might caught. She was pregnant when she was put in prison, she broke out, not long after the baby was born. Kazuki was then put into your protective custody. She was missing for five years, now she's back with a vengeance. Tamaka has three goons that she's enlisted as her close team. Kiyo and Hiroto Chinuki, and my crazy high school ex-girlfriend, Maris Jones. Tamaka wants Kazuki back now, and we're here to stop that from happening."

Maeko listened, nodding. "Alright, you've got the basics down. But here's the first question you didn't ask, why does Emiko want Kazu so much? Why is she so desperate?"

That made Kugo stop for a second. "I figured she just wanted her son back. She's a criminal, we can't just give up a child to a criminal."

Of course he hadn't looked over the original Tamaka file. "Alright, here's the first thing you're missing." She handed him the file. "Her husband, Ren Tamaka, was her partner in crime. However, if you look at the details in this original investigation file-"

"They were a quirk marriage." He read out. "They were trying to combine their quirks to make a powerful child as a weapon for their organization." He kept reading along. "Ren could photosynthesize through his hair and had completely stopped aging, and Emiko… what the fuck?"

She nodded, that was the correct response. "Quirk: unknown. Effect: on skin contact, she can drain years from her victim and add to her lifespan." Maeko recited from the page. "Two essentially immortal crime lords, making a weapon for an uprising."

Kugo let out a shaky breath, nervously rubbing his nose. "You think they succeeded." He realized.

"Yeah."

"Then why aren't you more terrified?" He asked.

"Terrified of what? Kazu?" She asked. "He's just a five year old kid. I don't think his quirk is fully developed, but when it is, he's probably gonna be powerful. He will likely be able to take energy the same way he gives it to plants. And I need to be there for him so he doesn't become what Emiko Tamaka wants him to be."

Right about now, he's probably rethinking everything he's agreed to. Helping her with the case. Taking her and Kazu into his home. The plan to draw Maris and now Emiko out.

"Alright." Kugo said slowly. "So Ren Tamaka dies in the firefight with the police, and Emiko Tamaka is arrested. Now that she's gathered her team, she wants her weapon to plot an uprising. She hates you because you've claimed Kazu as your own son, now on national television. And Maris hates you because you've claimed me as your boyfriend on national television." He lists off.

"Yeah, that's about everything."

"Your entire plan was to piss off Maris by being in a public relationship with me. And you just decided to add Emiko to this list, just because the opportunity to enrage her came up?"

"Yes."

It took him another minute to process that. The silence hung in the air and weighed down on Maeko like a balloon slowly filling with water.

At least until Kugo laughed. "You- you're a spiteful little bitch, I'll say that much."

All of that weight was lifted, and a smirk crossed her face. "Without a doubt."

"It'd be a great plan if it didn't put everyone's target on your back." He continued.

"Well, you didn't read the files, and this is the plan you agreed to." Maeko argued back.

"And I still agree with it." He surrendered. "This just means I'm going to be on a much higher alert. Not reading the files is on me, but you made the last minute desicion to fuck around and find out."

"Also fair." She shrugged. "Wait, so you're still totally fine with all of this? Me and Kazu living in your house, and pretending to date me in public?"

"Maeko, what part of 'I agreed to this' did you misunderstand?" He asked genuinely. "I made a promise, and even if I wanted to back out, which I don't, there's no going back now. You're my partner for this case, and we were in this together the moment I took your offer."

Maeko locked into his words and let her quirk take over. She was surprised to see her vision go blue. An emotional truth. "Kugo-... I-.."

He stood from the chair, offering her his hand. "Don't thank me until they're behind bars."

She didn't say anything, only she nodded, taking his hand as he led her back down to the car to head home. She means exactly what she had said in the interview.

She loved him for this.

#kugo sakamata x oc #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #gang orca x oc #gang orca x reader #gang orca #maeko onami #original chatacter #original story

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

If You Just Realize

Part Three: Hold Me Up

Summary: Sebastian filled Y/N in on the upcoming custody issues.  Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2065 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language. Happy Reading!

Series Masterlist

Photo Credit

After dinner, they gathered together in the family room to watch The Little Mermaid, at Milena’s request. They popped popcorn and had root beer floats — they were all full to the brim by bedtime. Milena wanted to watch another movie, so they started Despicable Me, but the family was asleep before the movie was half over. Anthony and Georgeta took Milena to bed with them, leaving Y/N and Sebastian to clean up from the snacks and shut the house down. 

Y/N shouldered her bag and switched from one foot to the other, nervous for some reason. She waited for Sebastian to be done in the kitchen, then asked if she should stay in the guest room. 

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine, or you could — you could stay with me. If you want to. You don’t have to.”

“I mean, I don’t — if you want to be alone, I don’t want to …” She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, then chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I feel nervous about this. We’ve slept in the same bed before, no problem. Maybe because it’s your parents’ house.”

Sebastian smirked. He loved the traditional, old-fashioned parts of her upbringing that would randomly show up in conversation or shine through in her preferences. He pulled his head in the direction of the room that would always be his in the house. 

“C’mon, Bright Eyes, let’s get some sleep.” 

Y/N smiled, grateful that he made the decision for her. She used the main bathroom in the hallway to wash her face and brush her teeth, and change from her jeans and t-shirt to a cotton nightgown. She packed her toiletries back into her bag and tiptoed back to Sebastian’s room. He was sitting up in bed, checking messages on his phone. 

“Who in the world would be messaging you this late with everything going on?” Y/N asked, dropping her bag next to the dresser before climbing into the big, comfy bed. She fluffed the pillow a couple of times, then lay on her side, facing Sebastian. 

He shook his head. “No one, I’m just catching up on some things I missed. Mostly people checking in, asking how the service went. Hey, do you wanna go have a coffee with me in the morning?”

“You don’t want to have breakfast with your parents and Milena?”

“I’m sure they’re all going to sleep late. Thought it might be nice to get out for just a little bit.”

Y/N nodded. “Sure, whatever sounds good to you.”

Sebastian plugged his phone into the charger then, and turned off the bedside lamp. He leaned over to kiss her forehead, thanking her again for being there with him. 

“I’m always gonna be here, Seb, whenever you need me,” she assured him through a yawn. “Wake me when you’re ready for coffee in the morning, if I’m not up already.”

Before Sebastian could reply, she was asleep. Smiling to himself, he pulled the covers a little tighter around him and tried to get some rest. 

After a night of restless sleep Y/N woke far earlier than she would have liked the next morning. After half an hour of more tossing and turning trying to go back to sleep, she got up and changed to the running shorts she had packed just in case, her t-shirt from the day before, then slipped into her favorite pair of running shoes — also packed just in case. Careful not to wake anyone else, she downed a glass of water to get some hydration in her system, then let herself out through the front door. 

As she ran through the neighborhood where Georgeta and Anthony lived, she breathed deep, enjoying the fresh air filling her lungs first thing in the morning. Her flight schedule the day before, followed by the immediate activity of the funeral, had left her feeling tired and weighed down. Oh, she wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world, but if she was going to be a support to her friend, she wanted to be refreshed and alert in the coming days. 

How heavy her heart felt for Sebastian; a heaviness that no run could shake off. He had been so close with his sister, so proud of her. Despite their age difference and the fact that she was, in actuality, his half-sister, Y/N had never known Sebastian to treat Irina as anything less than a sister he had grown up with his entire life. When he had called to tell Y/N about the car accident, to ask her to come for the service, his voice had been thick with tears. She had helped him through break-ups and things before, but this was one heartbreak she didn’t know if anyone could help him heal from. 

After a couple miles, she returned to the house. She found towels easily enough and showered in the main bathroom. Once she was dressed, she dealt with her hair and patted some moisturizer on her face. Upon opening the door, she saw a sleepy little girl standing in the hallway, still in Anthony’s t-shirt, her pigtails lopsided, and one chubby hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Well, good morning, princess,” Y/N greeted, quiet but with a smile. “How are you today?”

Milena only nodded and stretched her hands up to be held. Y/N obliged her immediately, taking the girl to the family room for some morning cartoons. Milena sat in Y/N’s lap, curled up and leaning against her chest. Y/N took the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered the both of them with it while they watched. 

Georgeta found them an hour or so later, greeting both girls with a kiss on the cheek. She offered breakfast, which Milena eagerly accepted — especially when she was given the opportunity to help make pancakes — but Y/N informed the other woman of Sebastian’s request that they go for coffee that morning. 

“Maybe I’ll go see if he’s ready to wake up,” she mused, folding the blanket before laying it on the back of the couch where it had been. 

He was facing away from the door, his breathing deep and even. His hair was mussed from quite a bit of tossing and turning himself, and Y/N contemplated if she should wake him or not. Biting her bottom lip, she seated herself on the side of the bed where she had slept the night before. Balancing herself on one arm, she leaned over to run her hands through Sebastian’s thick, brown hair. 

“Mmm.” The sound was scratchy and low in his throat. Y/N smiled and kept doing what she was doing, until he took a deep breath and reached up to catch her hand in his. “That was a really great wake-up call but if you keep doing that, I’m going to fall back asleep real quick.”

She chuckled. “Your mom and Milena are making pancakes. Do you want to eat with them or do you still want to go for coffee?”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. Rolling to his back, he looked up at her and smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Yeah, let’s go for coffee, if you don’t mind. I’ll make you more pancakes when we come back, if there aren’t any left.”

Y/N scooted off the bed to give him some privacy while he got ready for them to go out. She joined Georgeta and Milena in the kitchen while she waited, but she didn’t have to wait long. Sebastian had donned a t-shirt and jeans, plopped a baseball cap on his head, found some shoes, and called it good. Y/N wished she could get ready that quickly and that easily. 

“We’re gonna go for coffee, but I don’t think we’ll be gone too long,” Sebastian informed his mother. “Is it all right if I take your car?”

“Sure,” Georgeta agreed. She accepted his kiss to her cheek and smiled when he hugged Milena so tight, the little girl giggled and tried to push out of the hug. 

“I wanna go!” Milena pleaded, dancing around the kitchen. 

Sebastian sighed. “This one’s just for me and Y/N, okay, munchkin? I promise, I’ll take you out, just you and me, soon.”

With her grandmother beginning to flip pancakes, Milena didn’t need much more convincing to stay behind. She climbed up on the footstool she had been using to see what was going on at the counter, her uncle and his friend forgotten for the time being. 

The ride to the coffee shop was quiet. They found a parking spot not too far from the cafe, and Sebastian held tight to Y/N’s hand as they crossed the street. He held the door open for her, paid for their coffees, and then sat across from her at a table with good sunlight but not right next to the window. 

“You sleep okay last night?” he asked. 

Y/N shrugged, savoring the warm feeling of the coffee as she sipped at it. “Tossed and turned a little this morning, so I got up for a run. I’m not too tired right now, though.”

“Good. When we get back, we can hang out for a little bit, then if you need to nap or anything, you should.” He blew on his coffee before taking a drink of the black brew. “So, I know that you know something’s up. After the heated discussion with Alice yesterday, and I’m sure things seemed a little tense when you came back with the food.”

She shrugged. “Yes, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t think much of it.”

He ran a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh. After another drink of his coffee, he plunged into it. “Apparently, Irina told Mom that if anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to take custody of Milena. I don’t know why, and there’s nothing on paper because …”

“Because she was in her mid-twenties and why would she worry that something would happen to her now,” Y/N supplied. 

“Exactly. The Hills — Milena’s other grandparents — want joint custody of her. It just seems like so much back and forth. Obviously, we want to keep whatever pieces of Irina that we can, but we also want to handle things the way she would have wanted them to be handled. They’ve already got a lawyer working on things, apparently, and I’m going to see my lawyer this afternoon. That’s really who I was messaging when we went to bed last night.”

Y/N reached over to squeeze his hand. “Sebastian, you know you’re gonna be great for her, right? Milena loves you — she thinks the world of you. If that’s what your sister wanted, it had to be for good reason.”

“But am I ready for this? Really? A little girl, in my care, who I’m responsible for? Why does that suddenly seem like the most daunting task I’ll ever take on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “The Hills think joint custody with my parents would be better because of my schedule, my job. They know I can provide for her, but they’re concerned she won’t get the attention she deserves.”

“So you’re worried about it, too,” Y/N surmised. “First of all, no one’s ever ready to become a parent. Even with all the preparation in the world, a lot of unexpected things are going to happen. Second, as far as work and giving Milena attention, that’s something you can balance. You can find help. I’ve been reading a few scripts, but I’m otherwise between things right now. My next movie doesn’t premiere for another six months. I can help you.”

“I can’t ask you to put your life on hold, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. And even if I wasn’t offering, yes, you can ask. That’s what friends are for.”

He licked his lips and thought it over. The thought that had seeded in his mind the day before sprouted up again; he dismissed it quickly. 

“Maybe we start with you going to the lawyer with me this afternoon, go from there.”

“I think that’s a good plan,” she agreed, taking another drink of her coffee. “But my offer stands, Sebastian. Whatever you need from me, I’m happy to help.”

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #reader insert #fanfiction #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #queue and i remember budapest very differently

[luxaofhesperides]

in those long days until we’re together

yoo sangah loves all the time she spends with jung heewon. but the time they spend together is to little; such is the way of long distance relationships.

for ORV RARE PAIR WEEK 2021 @orv-week; day three, prompt: long distance relationship.

also on ao3.

. . . Call soon?  the text reads when Yoo Sangah opens it. She immediately sends back a smiling panda sticker and hurries through the rest of her work so she can leave on time, if not a little early. They’ve both been busy recently, which means they haven’t had much time to talk, but Jung Heewon had set a day where they’re both free in the evenings to call and catch up. Yoo Sangah is grateful; often she worries about being too needy or clingy, holding herself back from asking for more no matter how often Jung Heewon assures her that it’s fine. She’s missed talking to her girlfriend recently, but didn’t want to demand all of her time and attention, so she kept quiet until Jung Heewon firmly set a time when they can ignore the rest of the world and just focus on each other.

There are three hours left before she can go home. She feels each minute passing by agonizingly slow. Her focus is shot, barely able to concentrate on all the files she has on hand that have to go out by the end of the week. She’s only half done, and while she’s sure if she focused and got to it she’s finish faster, Yoo Sangah is filled with restless energy that makes her walk away from her desk.

The break room is usually empty at this time. It’s just after the time most people finish their lunch and return to their work, so Yoo Sangah looks forward to making herself some tea and letting her mind wander without the pressures of deadlines stress her out.

She gets as far as pulling out a cup before she realizes she’s not alone. Kim Dokja sits in the back of the break room, in a corner people ignore because it’s out of sight from the door. He’s on his phone again, not moving and silent. Yoo Sangah can’t help but jump a little when she finds him, from the shock of seeing someone in the corner of her eye in a room she though was empty . Slowly, she lets out a breath and tries not to look to frazzled.

“Dokja-ssi,” she calls out, making him look up, “Did you want anything to drink?”

“No thank you,” he says as quietly as always. Had it been anyone else, she would have thought he was trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. In fact, he sounds exactly as he does when he tries to end a conversation, but he’s not looking away which is the only sign that he doesn’t mind talking a little while longer.

Kim Dokja is really her only friend at Minosoft, where all the other men hit on her relentlessly and the other women keep her at arms length for one reason or another. He doesn’t hit on her, leer at her, or act rudely. He just keeps to himself and helpfully hands her salt when she’s upset so she can ruin people’s coffees. Yoo Sangah is glad to have at least one co-worker she’s on good terms and doesn’t actively dislike.

“Did something happen?” he asks, lowering his phone some more. It always feels like a victory when she manages to pull him away from that phone screen. “You look a little… flushed, I suppose. Distracted.”

Yoo Sangah can’t help but smile. “Oh, I’m video calling my girlfriend tonight. It’s been a while since we were able to talk.”

Here’s another thing about Kim Dokja: he’s not just her only friend at Minosoft, but also the only person who knows she’s 1) not straight and 2) in a relationship. She hadn’t even meant to tell him about Jung Heewon, but he was there and no one else was and she was happy that Jung Heewon wanted to be in a relationship with her, even if it was long distance. All Kim Dokja do was ask if she had a good night, and Yoo Sangah immediately told him about the lovely, strong woman who turned her attempt to socialize into a date, ditching the rest of her college friends, and about the second date she had on the weekend.

Kim Dokja, to his credit, didn’t even blink. Just congratulated her on her new relationship and made no mention of the fact that she was with another woman. Yoo Sangah grew fiercely protective of him that day, as had Jung Heewon, the first time she called while Yoo Sangah was still at work and got to talk to him for a few minutes.

“I see,” he says. “If you’d like me to take on some of your work so you can go home sooner…”

“Oh, no! I couldn’t ask that of you! But thank you for offering anyways. Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head. “I’m alright. I’m on break for another ten minutes, and I’d like to finish reading this, so…”

Yoo Sangah nods at his polite attempt finish the conversation and focus on his phone again, and tries to make tea quietly as to not bother him. She lets herself smile freely as she waits for the tea to cool, then says goodbye to Kim Dokja, who awkwardly waves a hand at her. No one tries to stop her for a chat as she makes her way back to her desk, which is incredibly rare and incredibly lucky. It wasn’t a bad day before getting Jung Heewon’s text, but it certainly got better after it.

Somehow, she manages to finish the last few hours of work, only occasionally glancing at her phone, before she puts all her files away and gets ready to go home. As she’s walking to the elevator to leave, Yoo Sangah sees a couple of people from the corner of her eye perk up when they catch sight of her and start heading over. Please go away, she thinks and stares very hard at the elevator doors, trying to convey that she’s leaving and doesn’t want to talk. It doesn’t work.

Just as they reach her and one of them opens his mouth, Kim Dokja appears, sliding in front of them with ease. With how he’s looking at his phone again, it could be passed off as unintentional, just him not paying attention to his surroundings, but the way he carefully glances at her tells her that this was no accident.

People don’t really seem to like Kim Dokja, which Yoo Sangah finds strange. He’s just a little reclusive and awkward, but their coworkers either harass him or avoid him with all their might.

These two men become visibly uncomfortable and shift away from Kim Dokja. They look at her, then at Kim Dokja, then walk past them. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Yoo Sangah sighs and says, “Thank you, Dokja-ssi.”

He gives her a small smile. “It would be a shame to get stuck here when you have better things to do.”

The elevator finally arrives on their floor and the doors slide open. It’s empty, thankfully, and they both get in. Kim Dokja leans against the back wall, frowning as he reads… whatever it is he reads. Yoo Sangah decides it wouldn’t be rude to be on her phone, not talking, if it’s Kim Dokja she’s with. She opens up her chat with Jung Heewon and sends another text: I’ll be home soon! Let me know when you’re ready <3

Once on the ground floor, Yoo Sangah says goodbye to Kim Dokja as he heads towards the subway and she goes around the building to get her bike. The sun has set by the time she makes it to her apartment, but the sky is still light, all purple and pink. She takes a moment to admire it before she unlocks her door and kicks off her shoes.

The stress of the day falls off her shoulders and she takes a moment to stretch before going to her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.

She grabs her charger from her room and plugs it in the kitchen just to make sure her phone doesn’t die in the middle of the call. It’s been so long, Yoo Sangah isn’t going to risk anything cutting their time together short.

Her phone chirps with a notification and Yoo Sangah all but throws herself across the kitchen to open it.

Five more minutes?asks Jung Heewon, and Yoo Sangah quickly sends a nodding kitten sticker back. She rushes through grabbing ingredients and setting up her cutting board and frying pan in order to make fried rice, and keeps checking her phone to make sure she doesn’t accidentally miss Jung Heewon’s call.

Calling now!! comes another text that Yoo Sangah barely sees before her phone is ringing. She grabs it and accepts the video call, heart thundering in her chest as both their cameras begin to adjust to the lighting in their respective apartments.

“There you are sweetheart,” Jung Heewon says, smiling, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Yoo Sangah can’t help the shy smile that spreads across her face, cheeks flushing. “I can’t wait to see you in person again. Two more weeks, right?”

“Mhm. Two more weeks and you’ll get to have me all to yourself for four days.”

Yoo Sangah has been eagerly counting down the days for Jung Heewon’s next visit to Seoul, planning out dates and meals to cook together. The loneliness that cripples her the first few days after her girlfriend leaves is terrible, a feature of long distance relationships, but getting to be with Jung Heewon in any way she can is more than worth it.

She sets her phone propped up against a tall glass. “I’m going to make some dinner, so tell me about your week while I cut some vegetables.”

Jung Heewon shifts, getting more comfortable on her couch, and begins to talk about her job, her coworkers, the stray cats in the neighborhood that she’s been feeding; Yoo Sangah lets the soothing cadence of her voice wash over her as she cooks, listening attentively and trying to commit everything to memory so she can feel like she’s a part of Jung Heewon’s day.

They talk through her cooking, her eating, keep the call going even when both leave to take a shower and get ready for bed. It’s so nice to talk to Jung Heewon again, but it makes the empty space on her bed all the more obvious.

“I can’t wait to have you with me again,” Yoo Sangah mumbles, sleepy now that she’s in bed. She’s having trouble keeping her eyes open, and while she knows she should go to sleep since she has work tomorrow, she wants this call to keep going for as long as possible. She’s not ready to say goodbye. She’s never ready to say goodbye.

Jung Heewon rubs her eyes tiredly. “You look tired sweetheart,” she says, her voice low. The sound of it sends pleasant shivers down her spine, and Yoo Sangah can only manage a vague hum in reply. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay on the call until you sleep.”

“I don’t want to end it,” she says, stubbornly keeping her eyes open.

“I’ll call you again in the morning. I promise. Okay?”

That’s the smart thing to do, Yoo Sangah knows, and if she wakes up a little earlier than usual she can see Jung Heewon longer. Still, she doesn’t want to go to sleep and stop hearing Jung Heewon’s voice. She wants time to stop and let her have this moment to herself forever, without worrying about tomorrow or counting down the days until Jung Heewon arrives for just a few days. Their relationship is filled with longing and waiting, always separated and never able to stay together as long as they want.But there is no one she wants as much as Jung Heewon. She’ll do anything to stay with her.

“Okay,” Yoo Sangah says, “Goodnight. Two weeks?”

“Two weeks,” Jung Heewon promises. “I’ll be with you before you know it.” I hope so , she thinks, and closes her tired eyes, letting the sounds of Jung Heewon moving and preparing for the next day lull her to sleep. It’s almost like she’s there with Yoo Sangah.

Almost.

It’s enough for now. 

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv fic #jung heewon/yoo sangah #jung heewon #yoo sangah #my writing

[angst-king]

Stuck in this static void pt3

(TW: eating disorder mentioned))

Meanwhile in Izuku’s room, Izuku isn't getting as better but he was being stabilized with protein shakes and fluids given through his IV’s. Still that didn’t better his mood, his appetite, or his feelings. He laid in his bed, feeling exhausted, numb, and as if he couldn’t talk. Not that his throat hurt but, it felt draining to try and even open his mouth, or to time his thinking with making the words come out of his mouth. He’d rather just not speak at all as it was a waste of energy. Izuku tried to sleep the day away which of course it being the first day. That was understandable seeing as he’d lost quite a bit of blood, lots of bodily contents that could keep him awake, as well as the depression he was currently going through. Izuku knew he’d be going to the psych ward soon, and to be honest he was nervous. What would it be like there? What type of people would he meet, would they force feed him, would they drug him? What would they do to him?

These questions raced through his mind as he didn’t have the strength to ask them. He also feared that they would be deemed too stupid to answer. Even when the nurse came by he remained quiet. He fears not being able to speak correctly and mess it up and the nurse or anyone he asked be mad at him. Back when he was in school Katsuki’s buddies would punk him for any reason, his muttering and mild stuttering or soft voice was definitely a target which brought on the phobia. When he was anxious he wouldn’t be able to speak, it felt as if he was caged inside his own body that muted him temporarily. This was also common to happen in certain unfamiliar places where he had to ask a question or talk in general. He wasn’t able to make words out properly so he’d stop talking.

As the days went by he was evaluated, they gave him a paper one which allowed them insight into Izuku’s lack of speech. The days were getting closer, he slept all day yet he felt restless and tired. His sleeping was more of short bursts of napping. He’d wake up every hour or so to the point where the doctors and staff noticed this and kept that information to themselves soon to be documented and given to those who would be taking care of Izuku. His suicide attempt happened on thursday, they said he would be going in four days, those four days felt so long even if it was such a short span of time but. Today was the day Inko had already dropped off Izuku’s suitcase so the hospital staff could reassure that any items were well within the rules. Now she was here to say her goodbyes. Iv’s were taken out of his arms which were rebandaged. He was allowed to change into soft shorts and a green t-shirt, but his tennis shoes had to be velcro, luckily for Izuku. His mom found a pair of red sneakers that only needed straps. He slipped on the shoes, and was waiting for the paramedics to come and take him. While he waited he remained silent, fidgeting with his fingers. His grass green orbs remained looking downward, wearisome with dark circles underneath, Inko missed those shining passionate eyes of her son. 

“Alright Izuku based on the list I was given I packed your clothes, they say you could have a tablet but not a phone but there needed to be a case and the charging cord couldn’t be too long. They said you could have a reusable cup as long as it wasn’t glass or contained anything harmful. I packed your blanket in there, they also said you could have cordless headphones so I got you that and the charger to your tablet is universal and will work for your headphones.” Inko explained, right before the paramedics arrived she gave him a tight warm hug. It brought a small smile to Izuku’s lips, he hugged back while hearing a soft “I love you so much Izuku” from Inko. His eyes couldn’t bring back their glow but, his body sensed the warmth he craved for so long.

“Alright Mr midoriya, are you ready to go?” Asked one of the paramedics, earning a quiet nod. “Now Izuku, you’ll be admitted to the eating disorder wing first so they can stabilize you better, and once that has been done you will go to the other wing. Where they will go through different treatments, group plans and such. This will be discussed in better detail later.” Izuku’s doctor spoke, getting a quiet nod, he’s placed in a wheelchair and guided out to the ambulance where they got him inside.

The drive was silent, Izuku was tempted to fall asleep but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t let him and he was all alone in this ambulance with only one other person, who played on his phone. It felt like a long drive without being able to tell the time yet the drive wasn’t all that long but. His mind was still racing with questions ‘How long will I be there’ ‘Will they put me in a straight jacket’ ‘Will they force a feeding tube down my throat’ ‘Will I ever see mom again?’ ‘Will she really love me?’ 

The vehicle came to a complete stop and the doors opened. Izuku was helped down and he was wheeled up to the facility, it was rather big looking. Izuku knew there was no turning back now and he was getting close to the corridor. One man opened the door and the woman pushed him inside and up to the front desk. A man looked up from desk and greeted the woman. “Hello” “Hi I have a patient here being admitted, here is his paperwork.” The lady holds out the small set of papers which the man kindly takes and looks over them. “Alright, let me get the doctor, and someone to check his bag, and we will take him off to the ED wing.” The man gets up and goes off to find a doctor leaving the paramedics with Izuku who’s looking around, he watches the man who’s wearing a pair of red scrubs walk down the hallway to his right. 

The wait wasn’t long though, the red scrubbed wearing man came back with a woman in a lab coat and a set of blue scrubs underneath. She walks up to Midoriya with a sweet smile as she greets him. “Hello, you must be Midoriya Izuku, yes?” Midoriya looked up at the woman, nodding. “Hello I’m Dr Yaoyorozu, nice to meet you young man.” She holds her hand out invitingly for a handshake which is quietly accepted. “We’re going to be holding you in the ED ward until we can stabilize you, as well as try out medications. Depending on how things go you may only be in the ED wing for a week, a month, or half a month maybe more who knows. Now why don’t we get you set up with a bed and such alright. This is Mr Soji, he’s one of our nurses. Soji-kun, would you mind grabbing the suitcase, I can push Midoriya?” The tall man nodded kindly, grabbing the bag from the paramedics who are now permitted to leave.

Dr yaoyorozu wheeled through the halls explaining which halls and doors were for what. The doors were color coded as were the floors, the halls weren’t empty yet they weren’t busy. Nurses strolled around, ushering patients, and pushing carts of supplies. It felt just like the ambulance ride, long with a curiosity of how long this will take for them to arrive.

It had only been a few minutes and soon they arrived at a silver double door.

Pushing on the handi-cap button, the doors opened quickly revealing a hallway with doors then one that lead to exam rooms. “We’re gonna go to the exam room first so we can talk about some things alright.” Dr yaoyorozu explained before walking down towards the exam rooms and opening a door. The room was a vacant standard looking exam room. A bed was against the wall, cabinets with medical supplies were locked for patient and staff safety. The wheel chair made its stop next to the bed which Izuku was told to hoist himself up onto. “Alright Midoriya let's talk”

She sits down in her own chair, while Soji stood in a corner ready to assist. “So Midoriya it says here that you have anorexia and a myostatin deficiency?” Midoriya nods, anxious to speak though he knew he’d need to soon. “Those to kinda contradict each other a little bit seeing as with Myostatin you lack body fat and your food turns to muscle which also means you need to consume more calories because of it. Though I believe you already know about this, and your eating disorder though can you tell me why this started or when?” 

Izuku thought about it before his lips shakily opened to answer while his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

 “I-I don’t like how big I am, p-people were sc-scared of m-me because of it. Wh-when I-I was little I scared little kids away, p-parents thought I was a monster. People, as I got older, told me the truth. I’m too big, no one’s gonna like me a-a-and they’re right.” The woman sighed looking at him with soft gentle eyes. “Midoriya, I bet you're a wonderful person, those people are just uneducated.” “Now it says here that you’re frequently anxious, can you tell me why?” Izuku stammered through his words but he managed to answer all of her questions even if they were triggering. They didn’t need to weigh him either, they could see how skinny he was. Then the topic of treatment came. “Midoriya I’m thinking we’re going to need to put a temporary feeding tube into you, this way your stomach can get used to having something there slowly. Once we feel like you’re stable enough to try food again we will transport you to the teens psychiatric wing. Or better said, the red wing.” Izuku nodded then a question popped into his head that he’d accidentally said out loud. “How are they going to get the tube in me? Is it going to hurt?” “Well we’re going to insert this tube through your nose, down your throat and into your stomach. This can be done while you’re awake so you can ‘swallow’ the tube. It's going to be uncomfortable for a little while. We’ll explain how food is going to go down after the procedure.” The youngest Midoriya knew he definitely had no choice in this and the thought of eating made him internally cringe.

The procedure went rather well! It exhausted him yet, this whole day was exhausting. He was so tired, he wanted to crawl into bed and sleep all day. It was a short procedure but time seemed to pass by at a snail’s pace. Once it was done Dr yaoyorozu explained how the tube will be used. She could sense Izuku’s drained energy from how he looked at her with such empty eyes. They already looked empty but they needed rest, and from hearing other patients. She knew it could be hard to get used to being in a new place let alone somewhere you’re going to have to spend several nights at. “Alright Midoriya lets get you to your room so you can get some rest, believe me you’re gonna need it.” The wheel chair is already next to the bed, which Izuku is helped down from before being wheeled out. He’s pushed towards the other hallway until they reach a door, which was opened by the nurse. “Alright Izuku this is your room”.....

#tododeku #anorexic midoriya #my psych academia

[amazingflyingdick]

all that glitters.

WHO: Dick Grayson (@amazingflyingdick), Jason Todd (@thatsjasonfkntodd), & mentions of Slade Wilson (@terminator-deathstroke) WHERE: Dick’s apartment WHEN: Backdated to October 10th WHAT: Dick opens up a little more about Slade and convinces Jason to play Truth or Dare.

JASON: Jason was not a meddler. He often left people to deal with their own shit, as he wanted to be allowed to do, but there were moments when there was such an obvious window where he could do something that he couldn’t not do it. It wasn’t meddling, then. It was just taking something that he’d learned and using it. And he’d learned about Dick. Otherwise, what had all those fucking conversations been for?

Still, he’d given it a few days. Maybe he had shaken himself out of it, somehow, and bucked the idea that if you did the same thing a hundred times you’d get a different result on the hundred-and-first. The radio silence from Dick that was still going on days later said otherwise, though.

To his credit, he tried the door like a normal person. He knocked, he rang the bell, he heard Sasha bark once on the other side and the excited huffhuff as she sniffed beneath the door. Dick didn’t answer or say anything, even under threat of burglary. Maybe he didn’t believe him, maybe he didn’t hear him, but either way Jason followed through. He’d been breaking into houses and apartments since before he’d hit puberty - that apartment door didn’t stand a chance.

In a minute, he had it open and was nudging Sasha back. “I’m the one who leaves people on ‘Read,’ dude.”

DICK: Dick knew Tim and Jason both had good intentions when they showed up at his apartment to talk to him. It wasn't their fault that he was still trapped in his head, reliving conversations over and over, and struggling to understand what he must have overlooked. 

When he heard someone at the door, he didn’t bother getting up to answer it. That wasn't unusual. He heard a couple knocks throughout the day, but he never responded to whoever was on the other side, even when they tried to talk to him through the door. This time he heard Jason's voice and he frowned, but ultimately decided to stay where he was. He'd gotten a box down from his closet and was going through it on the bed.

Then he heard the door open and, while he wasn't that surprised that Jason made good on his threat to break in, it made him realize he must want to see him regardless of what he would see. Breathing in slowly, Dick got up from the bed and went to the doorway of his bedroom. He'd taken a shower, but he was still wearing clothes someone would sleep in. What was the point of getting dressed if he didn't have plans to go anywhere? "Sorry, my... my phone died. Before that I was just..." He paused, but didn't bother coming up with an excuse. "Just thinking.”

JASON: If anything, Dick looked like more of a mess then than he had when he and Tim had both showed up. Jason had gotten used to hearing from him every day, at least a single dumb message, even if he didn’t respond, so it had been weird to suddenly not only have none sent but to not be answered either. Even if he’d had no idea something else was going on, that probably would’ve got him over to the apartment to make sure he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t, obviously. “Got a billion dollar expense account and can’t buy a charger?” Of course he knew that wasn’t the reason. It hadn’t mattered if the phone was dead if he wasn’t talking to anyone anyway.

Jason was not one to shy away from people at their low points. While he never expected anyone to be there for his (and was generally proved right), what he had always been able to shoulder was the darkest parts for people he cared about. He’d been doing it since he was a kid. It was why he hadn’t hesitated even for a second when Roy relapsed to say he could and would handle it. The reason he often wasn’t there was that he didn’t let himself be close enough to people to know when it was going on in the first place, not because he was unwilling or somehow incapable of dealing with it. He’d had no idea until recently what it even looked like for Dick, much less had a reason to think that there was any call for him to be there during it.

He stepped more fully into the apartment and sat down on the arm of the couch. What he’d done for Roy during the detox didn’t fit here. This was Dick. He knew it had to look different. “You wanna talk?” It was not something he normally offered. If anything, it was anathema to his usual way of operating, but it was the one thing Dick usually did that suddenly he wasn’t doing. He was going so out of his way not to that Jason had little doubt it was the missing thing.

DICK: Dick's phone hadn't died because he didn't have a charger and they both knew it, so he didn't bother clarifying that he did have a charger... somewhere. The lack of a quip or ready made comeback was also uncharacteristic. It almost seemed like he was half-asleep. Sasha, restless, paced between them and finally settled for sitting next to Dick, nosing into his palm and whining.

There were a handful of times when he'd pulled back from the family. It was always when he didn't know how to handle the situation and it was too much for him to regulate. The only thing he could do was isolate himself. He didn't like being around the people he cared about when he was like this, because it wasn't him, it was difficult, and he knew it was disarming to the people who needed him. 

Jason asking if he wanted to talk took him off guard. Dick hesitated, but he came around to the chair. He sat on edge of the seat and leaned forward, his arms folded over his knees. There was something fidgety about his hands and he brought one to his mouth, chewing on the nail. His fingertips had practically been destroyed in a matter of days. "You won't like what I have to say.”

JASON: “I never like anything anyone has to say,” he shrugged. “Kind of my thing.” Supposedly, anyway. It wasn’t really true, but some people were incapable of handling being disagreed with. “So hit me with it. I didn’t come over here just to look at your bed head.” And he didn’t feel like pretending like he’d not shown up to try to help, either. Dick knew very well that Jason wasn’t the one who showed up for a lot of casual visits. He’d stopped being quite so disagreeable when Dick did it, though.

Whatever Dick had to say, Jason didn’t expect to be terribly surprised by. Maybe he’d be wrong. He just normally went into everything expecting the worst, shittiest thing to happen, even if it had nothing to do with him. Once in awhile he was still surprised, and maybe this would be one of those times, but when he’d decided to show up he’d already braced for Dick not to have anything to say or do that he liked. Jason made a motion with his hand like he was coaxing an animal out of hiding. “I didn’t write a speech for you, so you’re the one that’s going to have to do the talking.”

DICK: By now Dick knew what Jason said wasn't true, but he didn't say anything. Sometimes it surprised him how much yet how little Jason had actually changed from the way he'd been as a kid. The reactivity was still there, the tendency to see threats when there weren't any, but he was more internal about it now. That was one of the realizations he'd come to during their talk in the library. Just because Jason didn't reach out or resisted initial attempts at reaching out didn't mean he was unreachable. So he kept trying. It was worth it to him, especially because they never had a chance to solidify the bond they'd just started to form before his death.

A long silence passed as he chewed the side of his nail on his index finger, wincing when he drew blood. Exhaling softly, he forced his hands to fold between his knees, keeping them still for at least half a second before giving up, running one of them through his hair to push it out of his eyes. He had admitted to his past with Slade. With Tim, he'd admitted a little more about the seriousness of it. Both of those things were different. Dick hadn't talked to anyone about how he felt now, or what his thoughts about it were, and there wasn't really anyone he could talk to about it. The weight of that was crushing. "I don't know how to be... done with this. For years I thought I was over it, completely, and then..." His fingers twisted slightly in his hair. "I was wrong."

JASON: Whether he did it on purpose or not, and usually it was six of one and half a dozen of the other, he often engineered obstacles that kept people away from him or at least at arm’s length. At the first sign of pushback, and definitely by the third or fourth, most people backed down and stopped trying. It’s what he expected. The predictability of it, while not a comfort, was at least not a shock either. It had taken Dick over a decade to finally start to do it, but he had kept pushing on long enough for Jason to believe he didn’t mean to just up and quit. So he was there, ready to do much the same thing. Whatever impression he gave, he never actually meant to only take and never give.

Jason watched him worry at his hands and resisted the urge to tell him to stop. Dick, who rarely ever stopped moving let alone boxed himself up in one place for a week, had to put it somewhere. Apparently the “somewhere” was fucked up fingernails and fidgeting. He made himself ignore it; there were worse things. “Why?” There had never been anything or anyone that Jason couldn’t walk away from, and the mere idea of it was foreign to him - stupid, even, but he often said that about a lot of the way Dick worked. “What’s Slade got that you can’t get away from? It’s not like you’ve never split up with somebody.” Important ones, even.

DICK: Even though one of the things Jason said to him in the library was that it was a two way street, Dick hadn't fully known what to expect. It wasn't that he didn't believe him, or thought Jason wouldn't be able to go through with it, but he knew that different people had different ways of expressing things. Dick was there for people in his way, but he was smart enough to understand that not everyone's way looked the same. This was Jason's way of offering support, which he appreciated. Normally, Dick enjoyed being needed and he was willing to give everything he had, but right now he was struggling. He didn't know which way was up and he wasn't useful to anyone.

Why. It was a good question. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been trying to figure that out, but I don't know if I'll ever understand. It was different, it... and after, I was different. I was guarded. I never really let anyone as close to me again. It's not that I didn't want to, because I tried. I tried so hard, especially with Babs, and..." His mouth felt dry and he could feel a prickling in his throat that he fought back. "It just got all messed up. She knew, by the way. She's the only one I ever told." He thought it would salvage the relationship if she understood everything about him, but it didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that he'd been altered by the experience.

JASON: He’d never been talented at giving people advice in a way that felt good. If he saw something that made sense (or didn’t make sense), it usually came out exactly however it had been in his head. There was no sugar-coating on the way out, most of the time. Maybe he was less harsh with some people than with others, but it was only small degrees of variation. So, he had no Hallmark worthy words of encouragement and solidarity to offer Dick, but he was hoping that if nothing else he could cut through some of what was in his head. He was obviously not capable of doing that himself. Jason wasn’t always, either, when it was his own problem.

The explanation he got was one that set him a little more on edge than he’d expected. It was just the wording, maybe, so he repeated it the way it had sounded. “So what, Slade snapped something in you and he’s the only one that can touch it now?” He wasn’t sure what to do with the admission about Barbara. Regardless of how much or little Dick had told her, it hadn’t changed their trajectory.

DICK: Hearing Jason say the words made him frown faintly, but he considered the question. It was different to have someone else talk about it in such plain terms, asking for clarification, and it forced him to truly analyze the things he was saying. What he'd been doing on his own for days wasn't working. All it did was create an endless echo chamber that left him emotionally drained and even more hopeless. Even though Jason wasn't doing anything but asking him direct questions that simplified what he'd just rambled on about, it was like shooting a laser beam through fog.

"No," he finally said carefully. "But I was ashamed after it ended, because I felt tricked. I wanted to pretend it never happened. It was a... weird split. From myself, I guess, and..." Hesitating, Dick took a moment to think about it. "It was more a self denial. Didn't want to think what happened had anything to do with me. It was easier to shift the blame or chalk it up to being stupid and young. Because what sane person wants that?"

JASON: “Whether you’re sane depends on why you wanted him.” Jason did know a little bit of it, but it wasn’t like he’d pressed him for a ton of the more personal details. He hadn’t really wanted to hear them, originally, but now their relationship had become so pervasive in other aspects of Dick’s life and the city itself that he couldn’t skip out on the details. If he was going to have any insight at all, he needed something closer to the whole picture. “And why you still do. Leave sane and insane out of it. Leave out the idea of Slade changing, too.”

Jason turned and finally sat down properly on the couch. “The guy has to have something that made you cave as fast as you did. You were already doing it when I was in jail. So what is it? Because if I had to, I could tell you every reason I want Roy. I’m not gonna,” that went without saying, “but I could. And they hold up against a lot.” He’d been aware of them the whole time, clear cut - what he admired about him, why he wanted him, why he let himself - and none of it hinged on what Roy could be or might be, it was all just what he was. There had to be something more to Slade that Dick wanted besides the idea that he could be more than Deathstroke, and Jason wanted to hear it without the veil of morality.

DICK: Dick wasn't fully sure if there could be a logical reason to want Deathstroke. What other people saw wasn't what he saw, and trying to explain how things were for him would be bizarre for anyone hearing it. He hadn't lied when he told Jason and Tim that he thought Slade would change and give up Deathstroke, even hoped for it, but that aspect didn't have much to do with how he felt about him. It was a way to excuse why he would entertain the idea in the first place, because at that point, he wasn't ready to face reality. It took a long time to reach the place where he was now - or where he'd been prior to the NOVA incident.

Sighing, he was silent for a long moment, though the comment about Roy did earn the ghost of a smirk. It made him look a little less blank. He wasn't sure if he could give Jason the type of answer he would understand, but he didn't let himself overthink it. The important thing was authenticity. If this was going to fall apart, at least he would be left with some measure of self-awareness. "It was like I..." Dick's hesitated, his brow furrowing, and Sasha rested her head against his knee. "Like I had something solid under my feet. For the first time since my parents, and... he doesn't expect me to do anything. He doesn't want anything from me. Not a joke, not a smile, not Nightwing. Nothing. What he did to NOVA, he did knowing that it could end everything, and he did it anyway. Because he sincerely believed that it would keep me safe, as fucked up as it was, he was putting me first. And I... I know it makes me a hypocrite to wish he'd do things differently, but it isn't because... because my feelings are conditional on that. I never asked him to give anything up and I wouldn't, I just..." He exhaled softly and shook his head, resting his hand on top of Sasha's head. "I just want it to be easier.”

JASON: He didn’t need to point out that the jobs Deathstroke took, killing people for money who’d done nothing but piss off someone enough to put a contract on their head, was wrong. Dick knew that. Jason didn’t think that Deathstroke was worth any of the energy put into him, but that’s all he had to gauge with - the Deathstroke part. Not any of the rest of it. He was trying to tamp down his own judgement about it - which he’d been doing in varying degrees since the beginning - to try to see it as Dick did. He couldn’t, really, but there was one thing he could do and one thing he did believe that made that not really matter. He’d just have to wait and see if Dick’s answer made it worth anything.

“So if it’s not conditional on whether or not he’s Deathstroke, who are you trying to make it easier for? If you’re not asking him to give up something for you and it doesn’t matter to you if he does or not,” because that sounded like what he was saying, whether Jason believed him or not, “then whose opinion are you counting higher than yours?”

DICK: Dick said nothing, at least not at first, but the soft sigh more than indicated what his answer would be. It was always Bruce. "I know you probably think I'm an idiot for caring about what he thinks. It's hard not to." He reached up to rub the back of his neck, already feeling the tension. "I'm not saying it makes no difference, obviously I don't... want people to die, you know that, and I would try to stop it if I were there. That's my personal choice and it's on my conscience. I'll never believe that killing is the right thing to do, but..." Trailing, he swallowed hard. "That doesn't mean I don't understand the justification for it. It's just harder... with him.”

Gritting his teeth, his gaze lowered. "You were right, you know. That day you found out, when you said I was being hypocritical. I know how it looked. I know why you were pissed off. Maybe you don't need me to explain, maybe it doesn't even matter, but... I don't want you to think I changed because of him. I didn’t. It was before that. After what happened to you, I was... angry. I'd never wanted anyone dead before, except Tony Zucco, and Bruce... didn't have the capacity to handle it. Anyway, I didn't want anything to do with him or his ideologies. I rejected all of it for a while, I started looking at things differently, and everything and everyone got... less black and white." It wasn't that he started killing, or ever considered it, but he started to see situations from different perspectives. Dick felt like he was rambling, but it helped when he worked things out aloud, if he heard his own reasoning, and maybe it was more for himself. "When everything went wrong with... Slade, with the Titans, I... overcompensated. Swung back the other way. Then you came back." Bruce's apparent death happened not long after that, and Dick had been forced to take on the mantle of Batman in his place. "And I started to see things differently again. I had to or I'd have to cut you off, and I couldn't. I wouldn't." He paused. "But it made me realize that, even when I thought my morals were identical to Bruce's, whenever something happened, my first thought was always that I failed him. Not myself, but him. It's something I still can't let go of."

JASON: “Fuck Bruce,” Jason said immediately, more like a snap reaction than one he gave any real consideration to. Not that it would’ve been different even if he sat there and thought about it. “He doesn’t get to keep dictating everything. Your...relationship thing with Slade isn’t gonna impress him no matter what you do. You think he’ll stamp on the Bat seal of approval just because you tried to fit it into a box he’d like more? He won’t.”

But it was hard to linger long on berating Bruce with what Dick said next. It got Jason to furrow his brows, and for a few seconds it was hard even for him to know whether what he felt was irritation or confusion. It might have been both. “Where was that attitude when you were offering to reform me?” If it was an unfair question or should have been water under the bridge, it didn’t stop him from asking. Not that it ever did, really. Him being there and letting Dick talk was about as far into considering his comfort as he could go - measuring what he said was rarely ever on the agenda. “How’re you gonna look at me and say it’d be easier for Slade to be more like me when you couldn’t even let me be like me?” Dick had said he’d been right to call him a hypocrite, but for once the questions weren’t accusatory, despite the wording. Maybe not unfair, either.

Jason raked his teeth over his bottom lip. He knew that things were different right then than they had been when he’d shown back up in Gotham. They were different for him, in a lot of ways, and they were different for Dick, too. They were quite a ways past that - offering help, reform, a nice cell in Arkham to get his head on straight (even if that had ended up more on Bruce than on Dick), blah blah - but it wasn’t like he’d forgot. It wasn’t like they’d talked about it. They were past it, but it was still standing there. He’d shown up to let Dick say what he needed to say, but it wasn’t going to do much good unless Jason actually made himself find a way to listen to it.

“You think I actually let go of what Bruce thinks?” It was almost funny, in a bitter way. “I haven’t. I know when he’s disappointed and how I did it. I just realized that it was going to be like that no matter what. He’s never-“ he stopped and shook his head, trying to put the words together the right way and not just the way they formed on his tongue. “None of us are ever going to be what he wants. Might as well be what we need instead.” That was his big, grand contribution to life. Nobody else would provide, whether it was acceptance or affection or whatever else, so it was better to just let go of it and take care of it on their own. “If you’re getting something from Slade, just...take it, man. Take it if it’s there. Who gives a fuck what it looks like to the rest of us?” Any of them. Not just Bruce.

DICK: "I know. I just..." It was hard to put into words what Dick was trying to do in a way that seemed at all feasible, because he knew what an impossible feat it was to get Bruce to understand anything beyond his own narrow view of the world. Although he had been able to emulate that for the sake of donning the cowl, Dick was always a lot more open-minded. There were occasions when he let his ideals and judgments slip, without really meaning to, but at the end of the day he was far more adaptable and willing to listen to other possibilities. It was why he was so much more effective as a team leader. He knew how to take everyone into consideration and fight for a common goal. It was necessary to have a degree of adaptability in order to be at all successful in that.

Jason's question made him flinch and he sighed, looking down at his hands. "You came back when I was trying my damnedest to prove that what happened with Slade had nothing to do with me. Like I said, I was overcompensating. And it was easier to go back to something I knew I could rely on. The devil you know, right? I needed something and I chose Bruce, because the risk I took and what I lost me made me think he must have a point. Everyone needs something to believe in, especially when they no longer trust themselves to do the right thing. I stopped trusting myself." Dick smiled wryly, although the effect was more of a grimace. "You just had bad timing." He'd never wondered how things would have turned out had Jason not come back, because it wasn't a possibility he wanted to entertain. Suffice to say, they would both be in very different places. There never would have been a reason for him to start entertaining those grey areas again. "I never wanted to be like him, though. When I saw him with you, when I realized what it cost him to maintain those rigid standards, I knew I wasn't like him." Dick knew Jason cared about what Bruce thought, but he also knew better than to admit that he knew, so he said nothing. It was strange to know Jason was right on an intellectual level, yet be unable to do anything about the continuous efforts he made for Bruce's approval. Lowering his head, his fingers dug into his arms and he shook his head. "I know I can't spend make myself unhappy for the sake of pleasing him. It isn't just that, it's... I don't need to be seen as perfect, just... acceptable." He paused. "But I do care about how it impacts you and the others. Jason, I..." He made himself stop. "I knew when I first met you that Bruce would let you down, so I told myself that I would be there for you instead. I knew what it would be like for you, that you would never please him and you could... die trying. I knew it because I lived it. And I wasn’t there. You even called me, and I..." That was a dangerous road to go down. Dick clenched his teeth, barely aware of how his fingernails were cutting into his skin. "It isn't just Bruce. I don't want to mess it all up. I want to be worth it."

JASON: I know, I just... Jason often got stuck in his own loop about Bruce. He was aware of it to know it existed, but not to muster either the ability or desire to break out of it. It just didn’t matter enough. The loop deserved to be there, so he stayed in it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see Dick’s for what it was and want to snap him into something different, though. He both knew and could see how much of a waste it was, how dumb it was, and that it’d never end. Did Bruce have any fucking clue? It seemed hard to fathom that he wouldn’t, but it was worse if he did, and did nothing to try to change it, or only managed effort in suspended moments here or there. Jason had had a few of those of his own. The isolated things. An apology, an explanation, a justification. It never changed the whole picture for him, and it obviously never changed anything for Dick either, even if it didn’t look the same. It was easier to see from the outside - he’d just never had cause to look at any of the others long enough to notice. Not that Dick would have let him.

“Bad timing. That’s me.” It didn’t really matter, when it was all said and done, because it was done. It had played out. They’d lived it how they lived it. Jason was only barely reaching a point with himself where he was willing to allow people to add some different context into it, to color what he remembered a little differently than he’d done on his own. “What’d it cost him?” he wondered. “Me? You? We’re both still here, like a couple of idiots.” Not always. But what’d Bruce lose permanently? And what’d he do with the things that got returned to him? Not fix them. That was for damn sure. He was quiet for a couple of beats before finally adding, “You’re not like him anyway, even if you did want to be.” And from Jason, it was no insult. More silence followed. His jaw tightened once or twice and he stared forward at the switched-off television at his own blurred reflection. He had called. He’d not really thought about it again, after. With everything else that had gone down, Dick not picking up the phone had been far from the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I called and you didn’t answer, yeah,” he finished for him. “So? I don’t-“ he sighed, faltering finally. “I never cared that I died, man. Even when I was doing it, I didn’t blame anybody for it. Not Batman, not you, not my fucking mom.” And it hadn’t been dying that had turned him into the person he was, either. Surely Dick knew that, by then. The dying didn’t matter.

Restless, suddenly, he ran one hand along the cushion beside him. “I’m sitting here, right? Would I be sitting here if it-“ Jesus Christ. “If you weren’t worth it?” He wouldn’t be. “Because I’ve got like a billion other things I could be doing.”

DICK: Anyone who took up the Robin mantle understood the futility of pleasing Bruce, of earning that hard-won approval, but Tim had gotten close. What Dick hated to accept was what it had taken for Bruce to get where he was now. The disconnect between how he was when Dick and Jason knew him and what Tim, Damian, and even Steph had seen was so vast that sometimes it was like they knew two different people. One of the main reasons why Dick had been around more for Tim was because of what happened with Jason, and that seed of anger caused him to stand up to Bruce several times for Tim's sake, because Tim needed it, and he had to accept that his own childhood was over. It didn't matter if he could logically or objectively step back and see the situation for what it was. It didn't matter that he knew Bruce loved him. He largely suspected that wouldn't matter for Jason, either - or maybe it would, but there would always be that thought of too little, too late. The difference between them was where they channeled the criticism. Dick turned it inward and Jason lashed out, mainly at Bruce, easily making up for what Dick didn't say.

"We're here," he agreed, because it was true enough. Jason would show up when the chips were down. There were times when Dick hadn't been sure if he would, though he'd always reach out, but that was a long time ago. "It cost him a family. A family he could have had, if he'd just... I don't know, gotten therapy, I guess. That's why he took us in. He wanted a family. Yeah, I got the good little soldier speech and made that dumb oath, just like you did, but he didn't have to adopt us." That was something Dick was certain of, because Bruce hadn't adopted him right away, and that had been the main reason why he'd been so desperate to please him, especially in the beginning. He was terrified Bruce would return him, defective, and pick out a newer, shinier kid who did cleaner backflips. It was dumb in retrospect.

He couldn't help a faint smile when Jason said he wasn't like Bruce, laughing under his breath and pushing his hair back from his face. "Good. He's miserable." As Jason continued, his smile faded and he held his breath. Even though he'd said the word not two seconds ago, it was impossible not to wince when it came out of Jason's mouth. He didn't think he would ever not feel that pang. The first time it had been agonizing, he could remember it so well, and the memories and emotions associated it were heavy. "I know you don't. I know that it might have still happened if I'd answered the phone, if I'd stayed, if I played it all over again, and maybe there was no stopping it. It was Joker's doing. I know that. I just don't want to lose the time we have now, or waste it making stupid decisions." It wasn't so much that he was looking back, but the past was a good reference when it came to moving forward. He knew how tragic one misstep could be. "I still wish I'd picked up that stupid phone. I had your voicemail saved for a long time, but then I smashed it after a fight with Bruce. Lost it." That had been more devastating than he wanted to admit, so he forced a faint smirk. "Your little high voice. It was a lot higher than I said in the car, by the way. I was doing you a favor."

No. Jason wouldn't be there unless he wanted to be. Dick knew that because he knew him. It had taken several good-intentioned but misinformed efforts to reach this point, too. That was why he didn't want to mess it up. "You sure there's anything more fun than watching me wax on and feel sorry for myself?" Rubbing his nose, he laughed softly. "We could play rooftop truth or dare. Trampoline rooftop truth or dare. It's more fun with two people." He paused, then continued quickly. "And I have wine."

JASON: There had been other points, earlier on, when the person in the family he’d have said he was least like was Dick. It had been more like armor than anything. He couldn’t be him, despite all the trying, so the only solution was to wear the opposite like a badge of honor, or at least a badge of defiance. He’d done that for a long time. He might have kept doing it, even, had they not finally managed to yell about something that ended up mattering. He still couldn’t ever be Dick, didn’t even want to be anymore, but what had felt like a gulf that separated them had narrowed into something small enough to see over. Bruce had failed both of them in ways that the others couldn’t understand. Tim had said as much. He couldn’t be insulted by being likened to Bruce, because the Bruce he knew wasn’t the same. And good for him, just like Jason had said. Good for him, but that wasn’t what he got. It wasn’t what Dick got, either.

“Yeah. Cost him a family. Cost us...” he shook his head, “I guess the same thing.” He let the words hang, listening to them as he said them. “For awhile.” And that part, he was still getting used to. Dick had tried for something with Tim and Damian and he’d got it, at least halfway, but Jason had never expected to. He’d given up on it, at least in any meaningful way, and was still easing into the idea that he’d been wrong. He wasn’t ever going to have the father in Bruce that he’d wanted, but he could salvage...something. Somebody. Not just because some words got said - he’d had enough damn words. Everybody had words. Even Bruce had words. Dick was the one finally doing something to prove it, even if the only thing it looked like right then was letting Jason see him be something besides the unattainable thing he’d conjured up for so long. That was fine. It was all he’d wanted, really. Actual truth with something to back it up. “Look up miserable in the dictionary and you’ll see a cowl with stupid ears.” He didn’t want to be like that, either, but at times it seemed inevitable. All those months, years, when it felt like the only thing he had left was just disappointment and fucking anger...had he been much different from Bruce then? Not really. Not on that level, anyway. “Doesn’t really matter anymore if you could’ve made a difference. I’m not asking you to make up for it, don’t need you to pay some kind of pittance for missing a phone call. Just don’t use me as some kind of reason not to do something you want to do.” He didn’t want to be an excuse, much less a burden - something holding him back from himself or from somebody. Even if the somebody was freakin’ Slade.

The remark about his voice finally got him to move. He threw one of the pillows nearby straight toward Dick’s head, aiming to knock him over. “Keep talking and you’ll sound like that by the time I leave.” He stared at him like he was daring him to continue. “What are we, sixteen?” But there were worse things, he figured, than just getting drunk. “Fine. Hope it’s a lot of wine.”

DICK: It might be the singular thing that prevented their schism from being too great. Dick understood what Jason went through with Bruce, the impossible standards, although Jason had an actual person he felt he had to live up to while Dick's own fears of failure were largely internalized. All of that resulted into the tendency to be what the people around him needed. He had the ability to read a room and innately understand how to mold himself to the group. The lack of authenticity ate at him, but the idea of exposing what he thought was fundamentally flawed and broken about himself was horrifying, even though being understood was something he would always crave. It was another thing that drew him to Slade. As it turned out, being accepted and understood was addictive. It made him less reticent to be direct and honest with Jason. The idea that they could share those experiences made the burden much lighter, even if they didn't talk about it, and even if they handled it differently. It came from the same place.

"For a while," he agreed. "For the world's greatest detective, he doesn't seem to grasp long term effects." Abnormal psychology was one thing, but anticipating others' reactions to a sequence of events, especially their reactions, was one of Bruce's shortcomings. Pressuring Dick to let the others believing he was dead for their well being played perfectly into Dick's desire to protect his family, sure, but there had been consequences. He knew there would be consequences. Like Bruce, he thought it was worth what he had to do. It was a burden he wanted to take on for their sake, even though it still troubled him that Bruce had strategically used that angle against him. "Underneath all of it, we all want the same thing, right? Maybe that's just a side effect of being an orphan." That made him laugh, even though he felt more sorry for Bruce than anything. "I used to get so mad when people compared me to Bruce. They did it all the time when I was with the Titans, said I was just like the Bat, and... I hated it." There was no denying he could be a serious and harsh leader, but he'd had to be. There were lives in his hands. If he were going to take on that role, then he would devote himself to keeping everyone under his care safe. It put him under a lot of pressure and there were plenty of occasions when he'd exploded. The position brought out his perfectionist, organizational side - something he'd never relished in, because it wasn't him. Sometimes he wondered if anyone other than Wally, Roy, and Donna knew him at all. Kory, maybe, but even with Kory he'd been largely buying into an idealized version of himself.

"It's not really pittance. It's just knowing how easy it is to make a choice you regret even years later. And what I want... I mean, what's most important to me, is family. It's always been family." That was what made it so hard to risk choosing Slade and possibly alienating them.  Dick caught the pillow, but the motion made him fall back against the couch. This time when he laughed it was richer, although the redness of his eyes betrayed other emotions that rose to the surface with it. Tossing the pillow back at Jason, he got to his feet and gestured for him to follow. "It's a lot," he confirmed. "Everyone seems to think wine is the go-to gift when you move into a new apartment, even if it's months after the fact." He had at least a dozen bottles shoved in various places around the kitchen. "Uh..." He dug around in the silverware drawer. "...But I don't have a cork opener. Do you have a pocketknife or something?"

JASON: Though he'd never know for sure, maybe the weight he'd carried around would have been there with or without Dick. If it hadn't been the standards set around him, would it have been something else? He'd wondered, more than once, if he was even capable of the kinds of things that other people were, or if it was truly a situation where he was damned no matter what. If he just was...how he was, and his issues with Bruce, what happened with Joker, all of it just happened to be the circumstances and the situations he'd ended up with. There was no way to tell. He couldn't live a different life to find out. All he knew was that he didn't want that to be true, and if it wasn't inherently true, that meant it was the result of something. Someone. Maybe that was what Dick was saying, too, about what he'd tried to do after things went south with Slade the first time. It just looked wildly different for both of them, as usual. He didn't know how to ask, or if he wanted to, but the thought took hold as he sat there.

"Apparently being a good detective doesn't do much good with this." But it wasn't like they were neat puzzles to be solved. Jason often wished it were that simple himself - that people made enough sense to just put them in the places he wanted them to fit, but he had the presence of mind (sometimes, anyway) to realize it wasn't going to work. He ran his hand along the back of his neck. That was what they had in common, right? All of them? Something in or about the world had spit them out and they'd ended up together. "Yeah, well...wanting is the easy part." Jason had said that plenty himself, that Dick was just the Baby Bat, but that had been the point of what he was doing. He'd projected that himself, whether he wanted to or not. Jason had just had no way of knowing that he should be seeing through it. He had never spent much time talking to Roy about Dick. There was no reason for him to. It was, if anything, one of the things he'd wanted to discuss with him the least. Their understanding of him probably split somewhere, but he'd never wanted to drag that into their relationship. Whatever they were, he'd wanted it to be them. Not something that involved Dick.

He chewed at the inside of his lip. He didn't fidget the way that Dick did, but he too was finding it hard to just keep sitting there, still, doing nothing but talking. One of the things that had always been and would always been difficult, if not flat out impossible for him to accept was that he was a priority in someone's life. Anyone's, really. To be told flat out that Dick wanted a relationship with the family, with him, over whatever he had with Slade that he struggled to distance himself from...it was a struggle to believe it. That was what he was trying so fucking hard to change, at least a little. It left him quiet.

It also made the wine even more appealing. If there was a ton of it, all the better. Jason didn't often get drunk. He didn't like the loss of control that came with it. Mostly, it was something he did in moments of desperation, low times, or just when he was too fucking angry to even know what else to do with it. It hadn't happened in awhile. Right then, if he was going to stay there and they were going to keep doing whatever it was they were doing, he wanted the wine. "Did you just ask me if I have a pocketknife? Have we ever met before? Hello, stranger," he rolled his eyes as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out something much more sizeable than a pocket knife. "Give me some of those bottles."

DICK: Dick struggled to separate and understand the difference between what Bruce knew, but didn't know how to change, and what he was truly ignorant of. He was always surprised by the truth. At this point, he'd spent years trying to understand how Bruce's mind worked and why he was the way he was. It was something he grasped in theory, but the simplest thing could capsize the whole theory. At this point, he had to reconcile with the fact that there might not ever be a way to fully understand Bruce. What's more, it was no longer his job. Robin had to know how to work alongside Batman, anticipate the moves he made, and to mimic his behavior for top efficiency.

"Hard part's over, I think." That was what he hoped. They'd bridged the gap between them despite all hurdles. Jason being here now proved that the fight was never one-sided. At some point they'd turned the corner and were now on their way to building something different. Sometimes Dick tried looking back so he could pinpoint when that happened, even though he knew it didn't really matter. Where they'd been was inconsequential. He wanted to focus on where they were now. Maybe that was why Jason didn't like to talk about the past, there wasn't much to be gained from it, because the rules were different now.

Hard conversations weren't typically ones Dick avoided, but he knew better than to let Jason's silence simmer. When he was quiet it indicated that he didn't know what to say or had nothing good to say. Sometimes it was best to let things sink in, especially when they'd covered so many touchy topics in a short timeframe. Moving on to something lighter and less emotional was the only way he knew how to redirect the evening that wouldn't result in Jason taking off. He hesitated, but then handed over the bottle in his hand. It was Pinot Grigio. "Wait, I mean one of those like... swiss army knives. You know, with all the little pieces that pop out. They usually come with a corkscrew." It was hard imagining Jason with some boy scout knife, but he supposed it wasn't impossible. "You can't just, like, cut the top off."

JASON: Even though he’d had a family in the legal sense from the day that Bruce adopted him onward, he’d spent so much of the time after the Pit hell bent on staying away from them. He’d still shown up if they needed him, really needed him, and reached out to say so, but otherwise...otherwise he’d just tried to fill in the missing things in other ways. By himself, mostly, but it was what the Outlaws had been for awhile, too. Somebody to have his back and give a damn for awhile, and with whom he could do the same in kind. He’d figured it would just stay that way, with him piecing together scraps of something. Maybe it was still going to be true - the world was still spinning in the same direction and all. They weren’t suddenly going to be one big happy family sitting down to Sunday dinner and going to baseball games together on the weekend. But some things were changing. Had changed. If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have go to Dick’s place, certainly not tried it twice, just to be there for him.

Still, he couldn’t suddenly just be a different person. Maybe he should’ve thanked him or told him he believed him or anything at all, really, but he couldn’t do it. Later, maybe. Dick was in the middle of a whole fucking ordeal, he didn’t actually know what his priorities were going to be, right? He wasn’t going to hang on the answer. He’d meant what he told him, that he should go for what he wanted and damn the rest. They’d spend too much time doing anything but that. To Jason, it was difficult to fathom the final decision being what Dick claimed it was.

“Who said I can’t cut the top off? I’ll do it over the sink. Wine still tastes the same.” Jason had the oddly shaped Kris dagger that he often carried. “Don’t worry. It’s clean.” It had been buried in many a shoulder and stomach, but it was perfectly fine for getting a damn cork out. Jason took the bottle from him and stabbed the point of the bottle down into the cork before shimmying it back and forth to try to coax it free. Instead, he got a few pieces of chipped cork for his trouble. Rinse, repeat, until he had most of it dug out. “Voila. One bottle down.” But he next time, he was just cutting off the damn top. Nobody had time to play ‘pick out the cork.’ He motioned for a second bottle, not willing to share, and handed the open one to Dick. “We going up or what?”

Practically as soon as they had, there was the sound of shattering glass and the small amount of wine that had been at the very top of the neck spilled over the sides. The cork, still wrapped in glass, skidded across the roof and Jason nudged it away with his foot. As long as he didn’t let the top of the bottle actually touch his mouth, it’d be fine.

DICK: There was a time when Dick didn't think it was possible to bring Jason back into the family. That didn't mean he didn't want to. He'd never stopped wanting to help, even when he didn't know how to help, and he never thought that Bruce's way of handling the situation was appropriate under the circumstances. He understood why he'd done it. Jason had needed help, there was no doubt of that, but he needed more than what he'd been handed. Arkham Asylum wasn't exactly the ideal place to convalesce and find peace of mind. Dick hated the idea of Jason in there, it was discomfort he shared with Bruce more than once, and he'd been encouraged to let the system handle it from that point forward. That was never something he'd ever been able to do completely, even in the more typical situations. More happened once the person was put in jail. It didn't fix anything but the current situation. Everything that followed after that was strained. When he had seen Jason in the years between his release and before Star City, it wasn't for long and they didn't talk about anything of substance. Jason was still adverse to doing it now, for the most part, but he still would. They had. The fact that Jason was here to talk about something Dick knew he hadn't enjoyed talking about demonstrated that he was trying. Both of them were. It wasn't easy for Dick to fully stop and listen to someone else, even when he thought he believed he knew what they were saying. He'd been wrong about Jason before. There was no doubt he'd be wrong again. That didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying to be present in whatever way he could, when he could, and he knew he couldn't just keep himself shut up in his apartment like this.

"But the glass -" There was no time for Dick to protest before Jason was stabbing the knife into the cork. He shook his head, but for the first time that evening he was smiling. "There's probably a million pieces of cork floating in there now." Accepting the now corkless bottle, he handed the second one to Jason even though he expected it to get the same treatment.

Nodding, he led the way to the large glass doors that took them out to the roof. The garden was getting a little wild, especially compared to when Jason had been there last time. Motioning to the trampoline, he was about to say something when he heard the sound of glass shattering. "Are you - did you seriously just...?" His alarmed gaze shot to the cork rolling across the roof and he stepped out of its path, blinking. "How are you going to drink that? Just pour it into your mouth? Wait..." Already he was heading back inside to get Jason something, even if it was a coffee cup.

JASON: Sometimes things had to get down to the wire for Jason to step in. It had to hit do or die levels, and even then there were times when he thought he’d pick the second one or leave someone else to it, at least metaphorically. He didn’t like listening to people circle around themselves and reach for things that didn’t make any sense. He did it too, but he didn’t have to watch that from the outside. If he had, he probably would’ve wanted to kick his own ass more than once. But the difference in where he was right then and where he’d been for so many years was that he’d shown up to try to head things off before it got that bad, and he’d not done it for himself. He  hadn’t gone to the apartment twice because it actually involved him. It didn’t. He was there for Dick. That was all. That was all, and that was...still new. For the two of them, anyway. Jason was wading in the shallow end of the pool with it, dipping in his feet and making himself acclimate.

“So spit them out. Pour it through a sieve. Or maybe don’t keep ten bottles of wine without buying a corkscrew,” he shrugged. It was still wine and it’d still get them drunk. If he was going to keep lingering, and it didn’t feel like they were done so he would, that was very high on the priority list. He was fighting his own instinct to recuse himself even though the only reason he was even there was because he’d decided all on his own to go. He wanted to be there, or at least felt as if he needed to be. Again, a novelty. How often had any of them generated that feeling? That he was needed?

“How’s that any different from what you’re doing? You’re just pouring it in your mouth.” With less chance of stitches, but he wasn’t torn up about it. As Dick disappeared, Jason could’ve sworn he heard him clicking his tongue. He took his mangled bottle and carefully hoisted himself up onto the trampoline to sit in the middle of it, and once Dick returned with some kind of cup he poured it as full of wine as it could go. “I never even asked why you have this thing.” He’d always just chalked it up to Dick being Dick, but it was bizarre even for him. “Why the fuck is there a trampoline at your apartment?” He’d not even asked when he lived there. Might as well.

DICK: Dick hated living alone. When he'd moved out of the manor in Gotham, he floated between the Titans until he had his own apartment, but most of his time was spent at the tower. He needed to be around them and around people. It was easy for him to feel lonely. Isolating himself wasn't in his nature and went against every one of his instincts. It was one thing to achieve independence with his own identity, but he always ended up being drawn back into a group. That wasn't something he minded, not really, even though leading always felt more like a burden. He'd frequently channel Bruce during those times. Being responsible for others and their lives had brought out a perfectionist part of him. He always felt tightly wound. When things were bad, he'd been known to snap at the smallest mistake.

"I don't keep them," he called back from the kitchen, fishing through the cabinets for a cup. "And I could give you at least seventeen differences."

Eventually he settled on a SCPD tumbler with a swirly straw. It was the only cup he had with a top on it, and much better than Jason taking his chances with jagged glass. He picked out a Halloween mug for himself with "Halloween puns are so corny!" written across the front and peppered with images of candy corn. Returning to the roof, he handed Jason the SCPD cup and joined him on the trampoline.

The question made him look up in surprise. "I never said?" Dick filled his cup up halfway, hesitated, then sighed and filled it to the brim. Even in the low light he could see the tiny pieces of cork, but it seemed so small next to everything else that he couldn't muster much energy to care about them. "I guess I didn't." He'd talked to Jason before proposing to Tanya. He knew he'd get his unfiltered, honest opinion, and that was something he wanted. "I actually have two trampolines at my apartment. One is just inside." Smirking faintly, he shrugged and took a long drink of the wine. "This one used to be in the gym. I had it moved out here. It was supposed to be just temporary, maybe a night or two, but..." The wine left a bitter taste in his mouth and he took another drink. "I proposed to Tanya on the roof, had a whole dinner set up and everything. All romantic. Our first date was at a trampoline park."

JASON: Jason was not the least bit at odds with the idea of living alone. It made a lot of things easier. But even knowing that, it was not really, honestly his preference. He needed space, the ability to go behind a door and shut it if he wanted, but not always necessarily for there to be no one on the other side when he opened it again. He wasn’t bothered a great deal during the times it didn’t work out that way, but that wasn’t true of many other people. Dick willfully choosing to be by himself and shut away as long as he had been was wildly out of the norm and the brightest red flag he could have waved.

“If they’re in your house on a regular basis, you’re keeping them.” Even if it was the same bottles. It was alcohol, not a damn decoration. They would’ve been drank eventually and he’d not been prepared. So he got cork chips and broken glass. That was how it worked.

He scoffed as soon as he brought back that tumbler, but tipped the ruined bottle above it enough to pour it full. He didn’t bother with either the lid or straw and just tipped it back to take a long first drink. A second one followed as Dick launched into an engagement story, because of course he did. “Guess you picked truth.” Were they still doing that? “What is it with you and needing that ring and piece of paper anyway?”

DICK: In the beginning, Tim was spending the evenings with him, keeping him company, and Dick enjoyed his presence even when they were in separate rooms. It helped to know that someone else was in the apartment. The small movements were a strange sense of comfort. He hadn't told Tim about seeing Slade, not yet, but the conversation was still turning over in his head. There were new things to consider about it now, things that were somewhat... troubling, and took another long drink. This time the alcohol burned the back of his throat.

Dick scrunched his nose. "Was gonna give them to Alfred, but I kept forgetting." Bruce didn't drink. He knew Alfred indulged from time to time, he could hardly blame him for that, or he could at least use them for food preparation. Or something. Instead they sat in his cabinet and collected dust.

Plucking the straw from the trampoline, he stuck it into his bottle. He was sucking on it when Jason reminded him about the game. Immediately he shook his head, rolling his eyes. "That didn't count." Then again, that also meant it was Jason's turn. "Guess that means you're up, though. Truth or dare?"

JASON: “But you didn’t give them to Alfred. Buy a corkscrew.” They weren’t making it through ten bottles of wine that night. Jason might have a slight leg up on ordinary people thanks to the Pit, but he wasn’t some metahuman with metabolism too out of control to let him get drunk. Dick would have plenty of wine still sitting by the end.

Dick didn’t give him an answer to his other question, but he let him dodge it. Many months earlier when he’d told him he was proposing to Tanya in the first place, he’d given him part of an answer. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand it, at least not from the perspective of someone who actually felt that way. Marriage seemed...nearly useless to him, a government stamp on something that either already had meaning or didn’t.

“Dare.” No contest. He’d given Dick some truths already that night and was going to need a lot more to drink to offer up more, even in a game. He’d get to it, maybe. He brought the tumbler up to his lips and took two long swallows. “Give it your best shot.”

DICK: "What, and drink by myself? Isn't that frowned upon?" Maybe he had isolated himself over the past week or so, however long it'd been, but Dick wasn't about to use alcohol to cope. He knew better. Even right now, there was a certain shame in drinking. It was maybe the third or fourth time he had more than a single glass. And even that single glass was a rare occasion.

Jason's question wasn't one could answer just off the cuff, but it was something he'd thought about before. He thought about it right now too, and turned the question over in his mind as he acted preoccupied with thinking up a good dare. He played this so often with Wally and Roy that he had about half a dozen ideas in a matter of seconds.

But none of those ideas seemed quite right. They wouldn't be challenging for Jason, anyway - and wasn't that the whole point of playing? "I'll have you picking truth by the end of the night." He smirked and dug his phone out of his pocket. "Dare you to take a selfie with me."

JASON: “Depends on who you’re asking. Sometimes it’s the only thing that cuts through.” Jason certainly didn’t shy away from it, but he wasn’t exactly reaching for a bottle at the drop of a hat, either. Especially not recently. He’d drank in front of Roy before while he was sober, but with the relapse being so fresh and the hidden bottles he and Dick had found and emptied had removed any desire to do it. Once in awhile he dipped into a bar, and he wasn’t thinking twice about the wine. “You don’t have to lay around feeling shit all the time.” Not that he figured Dick would really get on that train.

Immediately, he regretted how little thought he’d put into his choice. A selfie wasn’t the worst thing ever, but it immediately showed him where Dick’s mind went and it wasn’t what he’d been counting on. He’d expected something physical, probably stupid, but of course that was too easy. He groaned, but shifted himself until he was a little ways behind Dick and off to one side. It put him at an angle to be in the picture, and he tipped the tumbler up to take a drink right as Dick snapped it.

“There. Your turn.” Jason didn’t sit around coming up with lists of crap he wanted to know about people. His questions tended to just come out like a demand to know something whenever the answer was suddenly important. He could figure it out, though, if truth was up to bat again.

DICK: Dick had seen Roy at low points before, but his involvement had been more transitionary. When Roy first admitted his addiction, he didn’t even find out about it until much later. And the second time, after Jason left and Roy showed up in Gotham, Dick worked hard to convince him to go West. The treatment center wasn’t part of the plan until he’d seen how bad off Roy was. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken much convincing. “But the feelings are still there after it wears off. Sometimes even stronger than before.” Alcohol was a temporary solution. At some point he’d have to face everything again. It was something he’d push himself through rather than push it aside or cover it up. That never ended well. Not for him, at least. “But I could use a break.” A couple hours of peace, free from constant ruminating, wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing. It was starting to get to him.

Jason would do the selfie because it was a dare. That part didn’t surprise him - neither of them were the type to back down once they’d committed to something. It was committing to people that seemed to be their shared problem, but Dick knew his own history was much more convoluted. After snapping the picture, he quickly saved it and slipped his phone back in his pocket. It happened so fast that his own pose had been a nothing but a cheesy grin. He still intended fo put it on Twitter later, once Jason couldn’t dare him to take it down.

“Um...” Maybe Jason would have preferred to give him a dare, but Dick liked having an excuse to tell him things that wouldn’t come up under normal circumstances. Maybe it wouldn’t lead to an exchange, but it gave Dick the opportunity to show his willingness to be honest and open. “Truth.”

JASON: Sometimes even stronger than before. Jason didn't even try to keep from rolling his eyes, though he at least had his head partly turned away when he did it. "Yeah dude, they're there either way. Doesn't mean you have to just sit and do nothing but think about it. Not like you've been making it any better your way." Clearly. Dick wasn't snapping himself out of it, and even if he'd managed to they both knew that it wasn't exactly in a good way either. All he was doing was swallowing it. What was the real difference between that and swallowing some wine for a couple of hours instead? Not much.

Compared to regular people, of which they'd never really been part of, it was likely strange how few pictures actually existed of their family together. Normally it was something formal, some stiff thing to go on the wall back in Wayne Manor, and Jason hadn't even shown up for half of those. More than half, probably. So he let him have the selfie and didn't complain about it outright. For the time being, anyway.

"Answer my question then. What is it with you and the piece of paper and the ring?" He'd avoided it pointedly and Jason wasn't going to let him, even if he already had part of the answer. "You need the government to validate that it's real or what?"

DICK: In the past, Dick might have gotten defensive over Jason's reaction or read too far into it. It had taken time and a lot of trial and error for him to understand that Jason's dry comments and eyerolls weren't meant as insults. Now he used that back and forth as a way to connect. He was comfortable teasing him in return, even as he was sure to never take it too far. There were always subjects that were off limits. Then again, maybe that was true for both of them. This, however, wasn't one of those subjects, and the question just made him laugh a little. "Exactly. I'm just turning over the same thoughts on the chance that the light might be different the next time around." With no one but himself to bounce ideas off of, it had made everything feel stagnant and hopeless - but now, even after Jason left, he would have new things to ponder.

He sighed and dropped his head, his teeth tugging on his lower lip. "I was still thinking about it." Maybe he didn't have a complete picture, but he could answer the question as best he could. His chest tightened and he took another drink, even though he was only starting to feel the effects. "You know when I said I was overcompensating? Kind of like that, but... I guess with..." Sighing heavily, he reached up to push his hair back. "I loved Babs, Kory, and Tanya. This doesn't have anything to do with them. It's just... it's why I pushed things in that direction." Dick's mouth felt dry, but didn't let himself take another drink. Not yet. He didn't want Jason to think he was trying to put off an answer. "So after... everything with Slade, I knew there had to be something really, really wrong with me. It wasn't just what he'd done or what he was capable of. It was that after it was all said and done, I completely believed everything was just some game for him - you know what Bruce thinks he's about - because he was so convincing. He turned Rose against the Titans, sent her to kill me, even, not to mention all the times I fought him as Deathstroke after that. The way he looked... it was like..." Setting his jaw, he sighed. "Like he was looking right through me. Like I wasn't even there. And still, I..." He had to stop again. This time it was with a soft, forced laugh. "So I really thought something about me was so twisted that I might never want something normal. Something good. And when I found it, all I wanted to do was nail it down. Maybe it was way to prove to myself that I could still have something that average people could have, people who haven't been through what we have, you know? It was like there was this darkness that I was trying to outrun, and the harder I tried, the more I could beat it back."

JASON: “Spoiler alert,” Jason took another drink, halfway through the full tumbler by then, “they’re not going to look any different the sixty-eighth time that you think about them.” There wasn’t going to be some sudden and previously unseen thing that slotted into place if the only thing he’d done was sit with the exact same information, in the same place, alone. Jason knew what that cycle felt like, knew perfectly well that there was no end to it if left alone. Dick didn’t take it to the same places that he did, or at least he didn’t think so, but that didn’t make it less endless.

He filled the tumblr again to the top from his busted wine bottle as he finally got the answer to that question. It was surprisingly less dumb than he’d been counting on. He kept drinking, keeping up no pretense that his goal was not to be well and truly trashed in as short a time as possible, and pushed one hand back through his hair. “Never gonna be like other people, Dickie. No marriage license is going to change that. Normal people don’t even know what to do with it half the time, anyway.” Marriage didn’t solve shit. It didn’t chase away darkness or give some kind of North Star. It didn’t right a wrong. Someone either did those things, relationships either did those things, or they didn’t. “I don’t know Deathstroke as anything but Deathstroke, so I couldn’t guess at what the hell was going on in his head during all that, but it’s got more to do with him than it does with you either way.”

DICK: "Yeah, trust me, I know." This wasn't the first time Dick had chosen to close himself off from his family, but he wasn't about to discuss those past incidences with Jason. Two were related to him. They were on good terms now, but there were still things he didn't think were necessary to bring up. Things that wouldn't do Jason any good to know about. "You gave me stuff to think about," he added in a quieter voice. "Maybe it'll tide me over."

His brow furrowed as Jason spoke and he sighed, his thumb tracing the mouth of the bottle. "Yeah. It's not that... I want to be, not completely." It was impossible for him to regret being Robin or any of those years with Bruce, despite everything. The early years were still some of the best memories he had. That was also something he chose not to disclose to Jason.

At first he was quiet. When Jason first showed up, Dick didn't plan on talking about the conversation he'd had with Slade. It was still fresh on his mind, though. It was impossible not to give into the temptation now that his head was swimming and some of his inhibitions were lowered. "He thought he'd put me in danger. You know, because being Robin and Bruce Wayne's kid didn't put me directly in the line of fire anyway." Maybe it was different with Deathstroke, who made enemies just the same as Bruce, if not more, and he understood the reasoning behind it. Still, it made him sigh and take another drink. "I talked to him, you know. Slade. I was walking Sasha and saw his bike in the alley next to Rose and Joey's place. I stopped and waited for him."

JASON: He raised a brow at that. Had he? Was Dick actually going to accept any of what he’d said or at least consider it? It seemed like most of the time Jason just threw words into a damn void, no matter who he was talking to, and nothing stuck. Maybe it was unfair of him to keep thinking that way all the time, but it was hard to shake. He wasn’t exactly the guy anyone went to for advice, and did he have much right to blame them for that? Maybe not. “Guess it wasn’t a total bust then.” Him showing up, that was.

Normal was never something that he’d tried to strive for. Jason wasn’t even sure the word had real meaning, anyway. “Good, because you’re never going to get it, and if you did you’d be bored as hell.” Stability, in some sense, was a far more understandable concept. That was all he wanted, and it’d never be granted by a judge or a stamp anyway. Usually it couldn’t be wrung out of another person at all. Dick was out for something else entirely. If he’d only wanted someone at his back, he’d had that more than once and walked away.

It was dumb on the surface to think of anyone claiming to do something for protection, at least where Dick (or any of them) were concerned, but at the same time...Jason did hesitate to think of was some grand offense, either. Unnecessary. Maybe a little insulting. But bad? “The nerve of him to not want to throw you in front of a different bus,” he finally said, purely sarcastic, and took another drink. But he forgot about it when Dick said he’d already seen him. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh?” Dick was still lost in his head, so whatever conversation he’d had with Slade obviously hadn’t turned the world rightside up again, but that wasn’t a surprise. “And? That do any good?”

DICK: "It wasn't. I'm glad you're here, I know I'm not exactly the best company right now." Dick tried to smile, but the result was a half-hearted smirk. Too much weighed on his mind for him to manage anything light-hearted. He knew this wasn't easy for Jason, it wasn't something he was used to doing at all, and he appreciated anything he offered under those circumstances. Because it was so rare, there was no way he wouldn't listen or take what he had to say seriously. Their cross-country trip had loosened any lingering awkwardness that remained after the incident in the Batcave. At this point, it was difficult to believe it had ever been there in the first place.

That made him laugh, but he couldn't hide the wince even with another long drink of wine. "Yeah, I think that was the problem. Once I had it, something always kept me from following through. I always let something get in the way." He'd never put up a real fight, either. With Babs and Kory it'd been mostly mutual, but he knew his own lack of consistency leading up to it largely contributed. He knew they thought it was because he had commitment issues, but that wasn't it at all. Committing had never been the problem. It was a lack of self-awareness that was, in part, a form of denial. Rolling his eyes, he shook the bottle in his hand to see how much was left. "It wasn't all selfless, you know. He didn't want me getting in the way of Deathstroke. That was his priority back then. He thought I would change him, mess up his life, and then die. Even if that did happen, it's not really me dealing with the consequences. He'd be left to face whatever guilt he'd have for it, no matter how misplaced."

Now that he'd brought it up, he knew he couldn't skirt giving Jason the answers. If he did, he knew they'd just come up in the next round of Truth. "They're close to the park. It's where I usually take her." Not that the route explained why he'd stopped or waited. Frowning, he rubbed his forehead and then laid back, bending one of his legs so his foot was flat against the trampoline. "Yeah. No. Kind of. It was weird. He’d been drinking. I could tell." Not that he was one to talk.

JASON: "You're never the best company," he said without missing a beat, but though his tone didn't convey it (purposefully) it was only a joke. Granted, he could only tolerate Dick or practically anyone in limited amounts, but he could tolerate him. Willingly, recently. He sought him out on purpose and not just because life or their family shoved them together and made them figure their shit out for a few hours or a couple of days. "So nothing new there."

On paper, Jason wasn't sure that Dick was ever going to find anyone better than Babs or Kory, but 'on paper' didn't really mean anything. Nothing worked like that. Technically the game only 'gave' him one question and he'd already asked more than that, so he elected to sit on the one that had just cropped up. He'd wait a minute. "Of course it wasn't selfless. Nothing's selfless. I don't even think it's possible." Altruism didn't exist. There were people who tipped the balance away from them when they did something for another person, but there was always something to be gained, even if it was just satisfaction or comfort.

He scoffed and took another swallow, finally feeling the wine move through him in earnest. It always started in his muscles, like warmth or electricity, and spread from there. "Probably at least means he gives a shit." If something was bothering Deathstroke enough to bother getting drunk over it. Then again, maybe he did it all the time. It wasn't like Jason knew. People that maintained that much control and hyper vigilance just usually didn't. "Could be worse."

DICK: Snorting softly, Dick folded his arm under his head. "Don liked me." Don was the conductor at the ghost town. He'd talked their ears off the whole way to the station. By the time it was over, he had Don's entire life story and all the names of his grandchildren. Dick had a way of connecting with people that he wasn't fully aware of. It was how he'd been as a kid, too. He engaged with the people around him like a performer would with an audience, but also didn't ask for anything in return.

"Maybe not." That wasn't what Dick wanted to think, but underneath his optimism and positivity, he was a rational person. He didn't make decisions based off of his emotions in the areas of his life relating to vigilantism. That was what he strove for, anyway. It wasn't always successful, especially when he worked independently and he didn't have anyone else's life in his hands. That gave him a certain amount of freedom.

He sighed. "I guess." It wasn't the way he wanted Slade to demonstrate that he cared, but he didn't bother voicing that thought. "I told him he shouldn't drive. Dumb." Rolling his eyes, he sat up enough to finish off the rest of his bottle, and was shocked by how blurry the world got in the meantime. He was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol. Leaning over the side of the trampoline, he set the bottle carefully on the roof before stretching out on his stomach instead. "Okay, truth or dare?"

JASON: “Don was two hundred years old and hadn’t seen a living person in a week. Anybody would like you then.” Slight exaggerations on all counts, maybe. “How’s Jimmy doing, anyway? Still hanging out in your backseat? Tell him I said hey.” He’d kept that rouse up for the whole trip - their backseat ghost who’d hitched a ride.

To Jason, there was no “maybe.” There was no true selflessness. They all got something out of helping people, whether it was just the knowledge that they’d saved a life or not. So no, Deathstroke wanting Dick out of the way wasn’t selfless, probably not even a little, but it was better than the alternative, too. It wasn’t his damn relationship either way, but the things Dick kept honing in on were easy to spot from the outside, just like the things he was missing were nearly as obvious.

“Yeah, because driving drunk is the most dangerous thing he’s ever done.” Again, he just offered a derisive noise. He’d ask more, though, after he got past his own turn. He took another drink and stared up at the sky. “Truth. So you don’t dare me to text somebody I love them or something worse.” He’d had enough to drink to answer something, probably.

DICK: "First of all, that town had a population of six." Dick enjoyed the experience so much that he'd taken a million pictures. It was the first ghost town he'd ever been to, but it made him want to look into others that might be nearby. The mine tour was a little creepy, but other than that. Rolling his eyes, he kicked Jason's leg with the edge of his shoe. "Dropped him off with you, actually." That dumb ghost. Dick knew Jason was trying to get under his skin, but he was unnerved by the various stories the tour guide had.

He was still working through the conversation. It left him confused, which wasn't much better than the frozen state they were currently in. Maybe he didn't know what he was going to do about it yet, or what it would look like when he decided, talking to Jason helped clarify some things.

Triumphant, he sat up on his elbows and bit his lower lip. "Hmm." There were at least three dozen things he wanted to know about Jason, but he knew he wouldn't get this chance again. Who knew how many more opportunities he'd have just tonight. It was a rare opportunity and he wasn't going to let it pass him by. "What was your favorite part of the drive? And why?" he added quickly, just in case Jason gave him something monosyllabic.

JASON: “Really? You saw six? I could’ve sworn it was four.” Jason said it completely deadpan, leaving Dick to guess entirely whether or not he was serious. “I guess that’d explain why my mugs keep ending up in different cabinets.” Again, his expression was completely unreadable on its own.

The question was easier than he’d expected, for sure, and thus much easier to dodge. “The 7-11 in Nebraska. I got that blue raspberry Slurpee. Tasted good.” He took another drink and watched Dick over the top of the tumbler, just to see how offended he got by that non-answer. “Your turn. Truth or dare?” He might give him something better than the Slurpee but wasn’t yet convinced.(edited)

DICK: "Six," Dick corrected without hesitation, holding up four fingers. When he realized what he did he laughed. "Maybe I shouldn't have had the whole bottle. And don't joke about that, you don't really know if things like that are real or not." Considering they dealt with gods and goddesses all day long, it wasn't exactly far-fetched.

Rolling his eyes, he shot him a look. "Seriously? It's truth or dare, Jay. You can't lie your way through it. That defeats the purpose." The 7-11. Dick wasn't even going to pretend to believe something that off-hand.

JASON: “Yeah I do.” And he didn’t think he needed to explain again why or how he knew. Not that he had any qualms about doing it. Jason had never and would never shy away from bringing up his death, regardless of company. It had happened and it was his to talk about if he wanted to, even if it was just to debunk some damn ghosts. They weren’t really. There was nothing trapped between life and death, because there was nothing between life and death that he’d seen. It was just one minute on earth and the next, nothing. Less than nothing. There wasn’t awareness to even know the nothing. Whole bottle or not, Dick hadn’t drank enough wine to listen to that, so he didn’t bother. “Maybe I’ve just had some idiot burglar with a gimmick. Organization Man. Marie Kondo gone rogue or something.”

He drained the last of the tumbler, and thus the last of his own bottle, and laid on his back on the trampoline to look up at the sky. It was ridiculous to have the thing on the roof, but since it was there already...it wasn’t exactly hard to find some appeal. At least it was comfortable. “Fine. It was just the actual circus. I’d only ever been that one time.” The one that he’d told Dick about that started the whole idea rolling in the first place, because of course he’d remembered Jason saying it even with the hole in his head. “It was...” he pressed his lips together and mulled it over for a second, “a good follow up.”

DICK: Whenever Jason mentioned his death, joking or not, it made his chest tighten instinctively. He exhaled and tried to look annoyed, but the effort fell flat. It made him reconsider what his response to it should be. Maybe instead of getting upset, he could threaten him with a hug instead. Jason was definitely much more responsive to acts of love than anything resembling an argument. It would definitely be a tactic he hadn't tried before. "Pretty sure it wouldn't be a burglar if you weren't... burgled. You were just organized." Organization Man. "I've heard worse."

Dick didn't expect to get an answer from Jason, even though he'd asked for one. His mind had already searched for the answer on its own, and he'd come up with a few, so he was taken aback by what it actually was. The night he was shot was still confusing when he tried to remember specifics. Some of it he remembered, but there were times when he wondered how much of it were real or just odd dreams patchworked in. "Yeah, it's... it's always weird being back, but they're doing a good job with it." Haly's still had the same appeal. There was a distinctly old-fashioned bent to their advertising and gimmick that made it even more appealing. "Their trapeze act, too. Grade A."

JASON: If he’d been looking at him, he might have seen Dick’s expression change, but that wouldn’t have been anything new. He’d seen the look plenty of times before and it never acted as much of a deterrent. Still, for the moment there was no reason to push it. He’d not even been doing it for a joke. “Maybe he stole a mug. Roy has left some dumb ones over there.” He didn’t even know why. Things just appeared and he had to figure out something to do with them, usually putting them out of sight.

Jason sat the empty tumbler aside and ran his hands down his face. “It looked smaller this time than I remembered, but I guess that’s true about everything.” For Jason, his world as a kid had been incredibly small, usually. It was always day to day, worrying or focusing on what was in front of him because that was what was necessary. Anything outside of that had seemed almost surreal. “Truth or dare? And I need another bottle.”

DICK: "Is that how you explain where his mugs disappear to? Ghosts?" Dick couldn't help a faint shiver even though he was joking - for the most part, at least. "Does he still have the whale whale one? I got that one for him." That was one of his favorites. "For a while it's all we got each other for Christmas." It definitely explained why their cabinets were both full of dumb mugs with puns on them.

Pushing himself up, Dick winced when he felt everything spin. Instead of going himself he made a gesture to the door. "Cabinet. There's two more, I think. Go ahead and bring them both if you want." Not that he would be doing much more of the drinking. Dick didn't have Jason's enhanced tolerance he likely got from the Lazarus Pit. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back against the trampoline. "Wish I got to meet you. The first time you went, I mean. Sometimes I'd take kids my age into the ring with me... depended on the night, though..." He was rambling and the words ran together. "Truth."

JASON: “No, I just put them all in a bag and taken them back over there a the end of the month, so if a ghost wants to save me the trouble they can help themselves.” He wasn’t sure how it was still funny, or why it ever even had been. “Whale, whale, what have we here,” Jason said, shaking his head. Obviously he still had the mug. “Dumb.”

Jason was nearly off the trampoline when Dick said that. He stopped shy of pushing over the metal springs and looked back over his shoulder. Once he’d sat up, he’d been able to tell just how drunk he already was, too. No need for both bottles if he wanted to make it off the roof again. “I’m glad you didn’t. It would have been even harder to leave.” He really didn’t know how much Dick remembered about what he’d said. That night for him at the circus with Willis Todd had been bittersweet. If he’d had even a taste of what it had seemed to him like Dick and his family felt when they performed...leaving it to go back to Crime Alley would’ve been even harder than it had been anyway.

He got off the trampoline and asked his question only when his feet were on the ground and the roof stopped swaying. “You ever think of going back to it again? You’re not a cop anymore. You’ve got time.” He couldn’t travel. Couldn’t actually run off with the circus again. He was curious, though.

DICK: Jason's rendition of the phrase on the mug made Dick laugh richly and for much longer than he normally would have, if he hadn't been drinking. "I got that at Gotham City Aquarium! Back in our Titans days. And by dumb, I think you mean genius."

That was an interesting way to think about it and he hesitated. Maybe that was true. Maybe it was selfish to wish he'd been able to do more in that moment, especially if it led to making things worse for Jason in the future. That possibility defeated the purpose, anyway. "Ever wonder how many times our paths cross without us even knowing it? It's like... I had no idea you were there. If you didn't know about me... if we hadn't been called The Flying Graysons... I'd have just been some kid you saw once. Never would have connected the dots." He pointed at the sky, as if the stars somehow illustrated the point he was making.

"Nah, not really. I mean... circuses travel, you know? I don't really want to leave Star City, even with NOVA gone, I just..." Trailing, he shrugged. "This is where you are. Where our family is. I can't just... pack up and go."

JASON: “No, I meant dumb.” But it probably wasn’t even the worst one that Roy had or the worst one that had ended up in the safehouse. Maybe this would finally prompt him to ask Roy what the fuck all of it was about, anyway.

Jason wasn’t prone to dwelling on a lot of hypotheticals, or at least not wildly useless ones like that. Even if somehow they’d all met a dozen times before, if they didn’t know it, how did it matter? Even if they did know, why did it matter? The fact that he’d ended up with that boy at the circus for an older brother years later was coincidence. It wasn’t as if it changed anything. It was just some weird twist of the universe, a story that had been a little strange to recount. He wasn’t drunk enough to be wistful. “No. But I guess we would’ve went somewhere else on the road trip,” was all he ended up saying. He’d given Dick a lot of sentimentality that night, and maybe he’d have some more to offer, but not for that.

“S’not what I meant. And they don’t all travel.” The one Dick had grown up in did, sure, but there were plenty of places that just had standing buildings. He’d seen them here and there. “You could just make it up. A circus.” With that perhaps odd thought, Jason finally walked back into the apartment proper to get another bottle of wine,  which he did not need, and managed to actually dig the cork out in only a couple of pieces by the time he returned with it.

DICK: Dick enjoyed speculating about things that didn't happen but could have happened, or wondering how everything would have been different if the pieces fell together another way, but he knew Jason wasn't like that. Even in their conversations, it was always apparent that Jason preferred to live in the here and now. He might be angry about things that happened or were still happening, but it wasn't as if those things weren't relevant. It made sense. It was better than torturing yourself with negative possibilities - or positive ones, even, especially if it created some kind of resentment.

While Jason got the wine, he pondered the idea. It was more difficult to make sense of after drinking, and also seemed like a much better idea than it might be later, but he had a few ideas by the time Jason returned with the bottle. "What about like... a circus school? For kids. Like they have programs at universities and stuff, but I mean... little kids." He made a motion to the bottle and held out his cup. "Don't forget to share." That was a lot of wine, but he knew pointing that out would only encourage Jason to drink the whole bottle himself.

JASON: By the time Jason got back, the walk had assured him that he was well and truly drunk after all. Getting back onto the trampoline took a little more concentration than it probably should have, even. Once he’d settled, he poured Dick’s cup and then his own full again. “I’m sleeping here tonight,” he said without preamble, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to sober up fast enough to drive.

The return to what he’d said earlier had him humming as he thought it over. The unnecessary noise-making was a plain sign that he was inebriated, though Dick might not have realized it, and Jason didn’t notice. “Is that a thing? Circus school? Sounds fake.” He took another drink and bowed his head forward. “You should do it. Why not? What else are you doing besides Nightwing and finding reasons not to let yourself have the shit you want? Teach some kids to do flips.”

DICK: Dick couldn't hold back a laugh as Jason struggled back onto the trampoline, even though it also made him dizzy. "On the trampoline? It's pretty comfortable, actually. I've done it." Flinging an arm over his eyes, he took a deep breath and tilted his head up just enough to take another drink of wine. "Might need to get some blankets though," he mumbled. "S'a lot colder lately."

Snorting softly, he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips felt tingly. "It is a thing," he insisted. "Some universities have it. What about the younger kids, though? I'm telling you... circus performance is a dying art." It was an interesting thought, and one that Dick pondered further as he rolled over on his stomach and balanced his cup precariously on the padded ledge. Resting his head in his arms, he spoke up after a long pause, his voice muffled, "Truth or dare?"

JASON: “Meant your apartment, but I don’t know if I’m getting back off of this thing. Sleeping outside isn’t that bad.” Certainly not in California. Jason raised up enough to take a long drink and sat the wine aside. If it spilled, he wouldn’t be mourning it, really. He’d had more than enough, and when he looked up at the sky the little dots of stars wouldn’t stay still anymore.

“So teach kids some flips. If you want it done and nobody else is doing it, what’s the reason not to?” Or the excuse. Jason was a big believer in action. If it needed done and wasn’t getting done, anything less than making moves toward it was just whining, really. “You got money and time and knowledge. About this, anyway.” He laughed at his own dig much easier and maybe even louder than he normally would have. In the moment, it was hilarious. “Truth.” He was too far gone to do anything but lay there and speak.

DICK: "Have you ever been camping? In the woods?" Dick's voice was still muffled and his words slurred together. "Always wanted to try it. Like with a tent. S'mores. Alfred let me camp in the backyard once, but it's not really the same." He knew that wasn't what Jason was referring to when he talked about sleeping outside. Just thinking about it made his heart sink.

He nodded, which was more difficult than usual with the heavy weight of his arm over his eyes. "I think I know just the space for it, too." It would take some time, but what else did they have going on? Not a whole lot.

Dick was quiet for almost a full minute before deciding on the question he wanted to ask. "Why Red Hood?"

JASON: “Nope.” Easy answer. “Never left Gotham until I met Bruce and you know he didn’t do it.” Take him camping. “Probably doesn’t even...know how,” he trailed in the middle and closed his eyes, feeling his head swim a little. “The man can design a utility belt with 70 working parts but probably can’t pitch a tent.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it’s not like he’d been given reason to think otherwise. Besides, he’d spent enough time living outside, doing it for fun as a kid hadn’t really been something he’d considered even wanting.

Jason decided to wait and see if Dick was really considering it, the circus school, before he mentioned it again. If it died as a drunken conversation, he wouldn’t push. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. It was energy going toward something rather than just sitting idle.

That question got him to open his eyes again and he looked over. “You don’t know?”

DICK: "Can't even imagine Bruce camping." It was an amusing thought. "I always thought I'd want to camp in Alaska, but it was a lot colder than I expected." Not that the ice caves were warm, but the stove they'd been allowed made it warm enough. It had definitely been a unique experience. "You'd like it. Or have you already been?"

The idea would come to him again the next day, the first day that waking up wouldn't be met with the intense desire to go back to sleep.

What did he know? Dick knew where the alias originated, but that wasn't his question. Not really. "Not what it means to you, no. I mean..." Trailing, he cracked his eyes open and groaned as the sky spun out of control. "Don't look up, Little Wing. Clouds. Look funny."

JASON: “To Alaska?” he shook his head. “Not had a reason to yet. Seems like the place to go when I don’t want to see anybody anymore.” If he managed to live long enough to retire (unlikely) maybe it’d be somewhere like that. Remote. Unbothered. When Jason imagined the incredibly hypothetical and ridiculously unlikely scenario where he ever stepped back and away from the life, he still saw himself alone when he did it.  That wasn’t reflective of his situation right then, but he still struggled to visualize that sticking in a permanent way. It was too dangerous to let himself. Nobody needed to know that, exactly. It was just the image in his head.

He didn’t know if he was too drunk or not drunk enough for that conversation, but it wasn’t like he’d taken on the moniker for no reason. There was an answer, though. An easy one. “It was Joker’s,” that part Dick knew. “And after what he did, I decided to make it mine. Not like I’m a product of nothing. Red Hood is what Gotham, Batman, and the Joker spit out.” He scoffed at the warning and looked up just because he’d mentioned it. They did look funny, and he’d soon closed his eyes again against it. “So here I am.”

DICK: "I mean... there are other reasons to go," Dick pointed out, rolling his eyes and then immediately regretting it as another wave of dizziness washed over him. He'd sent the video of the ice hotel to Jason and Tim, fascinated by the artistry of it, and taken dozens of pictures. "Days are so short, though. You have to get up early." That was the only part he'd had difficulty adjusting to. He was a night owl in all senses of the word, not just because his work as Nightwing made him nocturnal. "I dunno if I'd actually camp though." The cold and the wilderness didn't exactly make it tempting.

That was the explanation he'd expected, more or less, but it didn't make him feel any better to hear it confirmed. "Never considered it might have worn out its welcome?" Dick's eyes cracked open and he glanced over at Jason, studying what he could see of his face. It made sense why he'd adopted it at first, there was a certain dramatic flair in the statement, but a lot had changed since then. It'd been years. "I don't know. M'just saying that... you're not really the same as you were back then."

JASON: “Never been a big fan of early.” But he wouldn’t mind missing out on most of the day, either. Anything he needed to do could be done at night, couldn’t it? He usually slept through most of the sun, anyway. But he wasn’t quite ready to hole himself away in Alaska yet, regardless. Something to keep in mind, though, should the desire ever come knocking. Jason’s attachment to and anchor in the world might not last forever - something he always kept in the back of his mind, almost like a talisman to hold onto. The control. I could leave. He wouldn’t, but he could. He had that power, still.

His face felt hot, despite the cool air that came after dark, and if he had one more drink of wine he was positive he’d be sick on that fucking trampoline. “Maybe not to you,” he muttered, because that much was true. Things were different with the two of them. Otherwise, though? He was still Jason Todd. Still Red Hood. He was still exactly that person, as far as he was concerned, maybe just a fraction less loud about it. Very abruptly, maybe to demonstrate it, he flung the wine bottle to the side and let it smash against the roof top. The sound of breaking glass was brief but distinct. “I’m out.”

DICK: "Works in our favor, right?" Dick meant to shrug, but his body felt too heavy for him to manage it with any success. The alcohol made him feel as if he were filled with sand. He considered going and getting some water, but the kitchen seemed ridiculously far and he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it to the door. "Imagine if Bruce were Roosterman." Not that Dick had been taken in because Bruce wanted a sidekick. He wasn't wholly convinced of Bruce's reasoning, if it were for his image or because he felt sorry for him. Maybe it was a mix of both. One thing was for certain, though: he hadn't exactly been father of the year. Jason's beginnings were much different, of course, and possibly even more complicated.

The sound of breaking glass made him jump. "Jay! You're going to step on that in the middle of the night." He should get up, get a broom, but even shifting position made him groan. "Don't step foot off this trampoline."

JASON: “Long as we’re not trying to pretend to be normal, sure.” It wasn’t like they needed a 9 to 5 job, even though Dick had so stupidly kept trying to do that. Jason had never done that. The closest he’d gone to “legitimate” was when he and Roy had landed those few gigs with the government, but that still wasn’t exactly an above the ground kind of thing. He had no particular desire to just live like the masses - he’d never done it, no matter which side of the coin he landed on, and didn’t feel like he was missing out.

“M’wearing boots,” he pointed out, though the words were all sort of slurred together. He wasn’t getting up. Instead, he moved enough to get his jacket off and throw it over him more like a blanket. Fuck it. The trampoline was kind of comfortable. He mumbled something beneath the collar of the jacket that might have been “night,” though it was difficult to tell. He wasn’t going anywhere, either way.

#c: discord #dick grayson #jason todd #slade wilson

[athenril-of-kirkwall]

Hello! For DADWC, from Drabbles: 41. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Hello there! :)

Marzia Cadash, “The Herald’s Restlessness” (AO3)

Varric gingerly stepped over the threshold of The Herald’s Rest, lantern in hand, with Sera a couple of steps behind him as they approached the figure hunched over the bar, a lone candle providing all the illumination for the bottom floor of the tavern save for a few others hanging off the columns.

“Is she alive?”, Sera whispered into his ear harshly.

“Shh!”, he retorted. “I’m trying to hear for her breathing.”

Marzia Cadash, almighty Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste for whom the tavern was named, slowly glanced at them, saying, “I can hear the two of you, you know.”

“Right, that’s me done, having fetched Skyhold’s counsellor,” Sera said, yawning performatively as she headed up the stairs. “Normally I’d love to chat with you lot but, it’s like, three hours before the sun’s up, yeah? I can barely get any sleep in this place when you’re all tearing the place up, you know.”

“All right,” Varric said to the empty space where Sera had been. “Just leave me to handle this all by myself, sure. Thanks for nothing.”

Her voice sounded from the second floor, shouting, “I snuck out the window to go fetch you and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Just go to bed!”, Varric shouted back, muttering to himself again, “Andraste’s sake, either sleep or don’t, just don’t try and have the last word all the time.”

“What’s this all about, then?”, Marzia asked as she turned around to face Varric. “I didn’t know there was a public enquiry out for me.”

“Nothing like that at all,” Varric answered, “Just that Sera noticed you were still here and in a state long after even Bull had packed up and left and, well, she didn’t want to come down the stairs to check if you were still breathing so she went all the way to the main keep to find me.”

“Why you?”, she asked, before clarifying, “Not that I meant—”

Varric shook his head as he drew up a barstool, saying, “Don’t worry yourself with it, Bashful. She, and half the people here, must figure that I’ve got the magic touch or somesuch. So, your Inquisitorialness, what’s troubling you?”

Marzia crossed her arms, saying, “Whatever makes you think that I’m in trouble?”

“Not that you’re, strictly speaking, in trouble, Your Worship,” he explained, “But you have to admit most reasonable people aren’t up at four in the morning at the bar, downing…”

He sniffed the air to identify her drink of choice as she picked her mug up to display it, saying, “Tea. The kind Solas despises. But yes, I’ve got a killer headache already, so I do appreciate your current volume.”

“Things must be pretty bad if you’re drinking Solas’ tea of all things, Marzia,” Varric said, finally addressing her by name. “I was thinking you were looking a bit morose even as the Chargers were coming this close to tearing down the whole place. You’ve done a great thing there—I think Bull’s feeling better than he has in ages, that’s for sure.”

Staring into the bottom of her mug, Marzia said, “I don’t know about that. Anyway, this is the first thing last night that…well, you can read it for yourself.”

Marzia took out a small scroll and handed it over to Varric who pored over it, picking out the most relevant parts of the note, mouthing, “Rainier freed from Val Royeaux, en route to Skyhold, arrive here tomorrow or…oh. Well…”

“…Shit,” she finished, taking it back from him. “Now you might understand why I’m not exactly overjoyed right now.”

Varric nodded, saying, “This would be rough on anyone, but especially you, seeing as well, the two of you weren’t trying to be subtle or anything. Still, maybe you want to get some rest so you’re fit to pass judgement once he gets here.”

Marzia suddenly pounded the table with her mug, arguing, “That’s the problem! Who in the world thinks I’m fit to judge him, given that we…oh, it’s such a mess, Varric! I should have just left him in that cell, but…”

“But you don’t mean that, do you?”, Varric gently asked. “And, well, you’re the one person who can judge him outside of whatever courts they have in Orlais, and that’s not really an option anymore, is it?”

Heaving a deep sigh, Marzia said, “No, you’re right. About both things. But…it’s insane, Varric! Everyone in the world is waiting on me for answers, but what am I?! I’ve just sunk our alliance with the Qunari, and what did I base my decisions on? Not being able to bring myself to watch Bull’s guys get slaughtered? I’m not fit to be choosing how the world’s going to go from here.”

“You say that,” Varric mused, “But sometimes the best decisions aren’t made by suppressing your gut feelings, they’re made with your heart…as corny as that sounds. Also anatomically confused, I realied. Besides, I know the qunari well enough to say that even if they’re grateful to you for their precious dreadnought, I’m actually a little relieved they’re not going to keep a presence over hereabouts. Call it personal prejudice, but that never sat all that well with me.”

“Personal prejudice?”, Marzia pressed.

“Yeah, well,” Varric said, “They can camp peacefully for a few years, and then try and tear the entire place to shreds, and still say they’re being morally consistent before and after. Maker knows how they’d justify coming down here as a permanent presence, you get what I’m saying? Even when they withdrew all their aid, they still left a knife for the Bull.”

“Maybe you’ve got a point,” Marzia said, scratching the back of her head. “But see, you could’ve made that decision with all that information! I wasn’t even thinking that hard!”

“And maybe you didn’t need to,” Varric countered. “You’ve got a great deal more wisdom than you’re giving yourself credit for, I think.”

“Really, now?”, Marzia asked back. “I…allowed myself to believe in our resident false Warden and even went to him for…comfort…and I’m still meant to judge him less than two days from now. What are people going to make of it?”

Idly looking for something over the counter for himself to drink, Varric said, “I genuinely think you’re being far too harsh on yourself for that. After all, Sister Nightingale was a veteran of the Blight and she didn’t put the pieces together all that long before we did.”

Sighing again, Marzia continued, “I don’t know where important people even get all this wisdom and judgement from, Varric. I wasn’t anyone important in the Carta, just someone sent to hit problems with a sword. Uncle Gavius always made the big decisions when it came to us…even here I’ve got Cullen, Josephine and Leliana to give me my options. When it came to the dreadnought or the Chargers, it was just me. And I chose based on…well, you already know. And then there was…”

Varric filled a mostly-clean tankard with something from the keg behind the bar, pausing halfway through his sip to ask, “There was what?”

“And then there’s Hawke…”

Silence reigned in the empty tavern as Varric slowly paced around the bar to sit by Marzia. Looking into his own mug, he downed a good quarter of it whilst considering his words.

“Is this what it’s about then?”, he asked carefully.

“Yes,” Marzia said, tears streaking down her face. “No. I don’t know, Varric. I’m sorry, but…I made the choice. I made a choice that hurt you, the one thing you wanted to avoid when you got caught up in this. I’m so sorry…”

Varric stared through the wall in front of him, finally saying, “No, I don’t think you did.”

Looking for something to wipe her eyes, she asked, “I didn’t what? Hurt you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that was your choice to make. I don’t know how much you remember from my account but Hawke’s brother, Carver, he owed his life to two Grey Wardens. One you’ve met, Ser Stroud, who’s reporting back to Weisshaupt this very moment.”

“And the other?”, Marzia asked, drying her eyes on her sleeve.

Varric let himself have a bitter laugh as he offered a cloth from his pockets. “The one who got us all into this mess. Well, the mess Part One anyway. Good old Blondie.”

“Anders? But didn’t she…”

“Funny way the world works, huh? She wound up falling in love with him during their time together in Kirkwall, and went along with all his grand plans and schemes until she realised where she was headed with them. And then…well, you know the rest, I believe.”

Mariza pressed her fingertips into her forehead, rubbing it in a bid to think harder. “But what does that have to do with…?”

“I’m getting to that,” Varric said in between sips of what had turned out to be ale. “It was Anders who brought a Carver who’d been Blighted to Stroud and the other Wardens to save him with the Joining, and that’s why he of all Wardens was Hawke’s contact. If Anders hadn’t known the way, and if Stroud hadn’t been able or willing to act, there wouldn’t be any Hawkes left in this world. Do you get it now?”

“I…so, when Stroud tried to give his life to cover our escape…”, Marzia said, trailing off.

“It wasn’t your choice to make, not really,” Varric said, continuing, “Hawke owed her brother’s life to two men, one of them she herself killed, and here was one volunteering to die for her sake. Well, I reckon she felt that didn’t have a choice either. It took me a long while to figure it out, but there it is.”

Silence hung in the air with that conclusion, until Marzia finally spoke up.

“So, what does that all come to? How do people make these choices? Or how don’t they make them?”

Varric looked over to her, saying, “Hell, you think I know? The best advice I can give you—and I’m speaking as someone who started drinking ale at four in the morning—is to make sure, for as long as possible, that you have a real choice and things aren’t taken out of your hands because by that point it’ll all be too late.”

Marzia blinked as she absorbed his worldly wisdom, saying, “You know, I think that almost makes sense.”

“Come on, it’s the best I can manage at this hour,” he said, “You want some actual advice? Go get some sleep. No good choices were ever made in taverns this early in the morning.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, clinking her mug against his.

-

@dadrunkwriting

#marzia cadash #f!cadash/blackwall #varric #sera #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #ao3 #prompt fic #fanfic #athenril-of-kirkwall #atruthandalie #dadrunkwriting #da drunk writing circle

[rockthistowninsideout]

Taiora Week 2020

Day 5 - Travel

Rating: General Audiences Words: 1033

Detours

    When the Tokaido Shinkansen stopped in Nagoya, Sora stirred to life. She’d been listening to an audiobook, gazing out into the rushing-by landscape on a sunny Friday. But now she was alert. She pressed her nose to the window, craning her neck to the left and to the right and scanning the platform for a certain wild-maned person. He’d been in Kaga for a soccer match the previous day, and now they wanted to meet for a shared vacation weekend in Osaka.

   At least that’d been the plan.

   The car filled with boarding passengers, silent and polite, until most of the seats were taken. Except the one beside her. Sora wasn’t too worried at first, she had texted Taichi her seat number just before they had departed Tokyo even though they had initially booked seats beside each other. 

   When the train began to move again and gained more and more speed, her restlessness grew. Granted, Taichi could sometimes be a little off the charts, bewildered even, but could he really be this confused as if to not find the right car? She straightened herself to look over the rows of seats, hoping to see a panting, slightly dishevelled looking Taichi finally entering the car because he had just made it in time.

   But no such luck. The only one that came through the door was the conductor.

  Sora huffed and checked her phone again. No message. She opened the messenger app and noticed that her message hadn’t actually been read. She wrote him another text, just to give him an impulse to check his phone. Then, with the uneasiness not quite vanished, she resumed her audiobook.

   But she couldn’t really enjoy it.

   When the train stopped in Kyoto, she was again on the look-out for Taichi but there was no familiar face among the new passengers. Her stomach lurched. Still no notice, either. That was rather unusual. Even if he messaged belayed, he messaged in the end. But not today. She pressed play on the audiobook but she couldn’t follow it. Her thoughts drifted away time and time again; the more miles the train made the more she worried. That he had simply stood her up seemed out of question. Why would he? So the only possible conclusion, the longer she thought about it, was that something had happened to him.  

   She texted him again. Calling was not an option as it was not welcome on Japanese trains.

   The remaining half-hour of her train ride she fretted more and more about his well-being.

   “Next stop: Osaka. Last stop, please exit the train” a female AI voice announced when the train pulled smoothly into the station.

   Sora sighed, slightly shaking from trying not to cry, and gathered her belongings. She queued up behind an old, wizened man, itching to get out on the platform to finally try and call Taichi. She pushed her way through the crowd to a pillar where she unloaded her bag and dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail. She tried again, about seven times, always with the same result.

   When the voicemail picked up the final time, she simply burst into tears. She didn’t know what might have happened but it must have been bad when it rendered Taichi unable to call. She had no idea whom to call now, she didn’t have his coach’s number or those of his teammates.

   As she stood there weeping, a middle-aged lady came up to her. “Is everything alright?”

   “I, hhh, I don’t know” she sobbed, hardly intelligible. “I can’t get through to my boyfriend. We were to meet in Nagoya but he wasn’t on the train and I can’t reach him on his phone.”

   “My, my. I’m sure there’s a simple reason for this. Maybe his phone just died?” She tentatively reached for Sora’s trembling shoulders because Sora gave so little about Japanese social conventions that she aroused the woman’s compassion.

   For a couple more minutes they just stood there, Sora trying to get herself under control again and the woman just standing beside her, keeping her company.

   Suddenly, something came barrelling towards them, the only premonition being a surprised yelp, and then someone crashed into Sora, nearly toppling over both.

   The friendly woman stood there bewildered, staring at a tall young man with hair as wild as a lion’s.

   “Sor, I’m so sorry” he mumbled into Sora’s hair, hugging her tightly.

   Sora was too stunned to say anything for a quite some time. Then she turned her head to gaze at Taichi, still puffy-eyed and with red-patched cheeks. “Taichi? Where do you come from?”

   “Man, I’m so sorry! It’s a wild story. I got to the station in Kaga in time but just a few minutes before our planned departure there was the announcement that the train had engine failure and that they couldn’t bring in a replacement in time. So I asked my coach to take me to the next town to catch another train but he wanted to take me straight to Osaka because that’s easier to reach than Nagoya. I really wanted to call you but my phone had died and I had forgotten my charger. I don’t know your number by heart so I couldn’t use my coach’s phone. And he also doesn’t have any social media so I couldn’t text you, either. I had hoped to get here before your train pulls in but the traffic kept us up. I’m so, so sorry how all this went down.” He kissed her on the cheek, it was a long kiss, before he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

   Sora was too overwhelmed at first to respond to his hearty verbiage. Then she started laughing. When her laughs subsided, she first looked to the woman. “Thank you very much for your sympathy but I think it’s all resolved now.”

   The stranger nodded. “I can see that. All the best to you two.” With that she took her own bag and moved on.

   Sora shook her head. “This can really only happen with you, Taichi. Life with you is never boring but I could have given that a miss.” Then she kissed him on the lips.

#taioraweek #taioraweek2020 #sora takenouchi #taichi yagami #taiora #digimon adventure #digimon adventure tri #my stories

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.19, “A Moving Day”

Can you believe we only have 50 or so minutes of content left with this show?

I want to love every single one of them and not take any for granted. Each minute feels truly precious.

Never mind.

Folks... we got ourselves a Toast-Off!

Cyrus has brought Jonah, Buffy, and Andi together to make toast. I wish I had more here, but that’s the extent of it.

Jonah presents his toast first. It’s burnt.

Andi says toasters are the trickiest appliance in the kitchen, which is true. Sure, anybody can figure out how to put the bread in, but when it comes time to select between the settings of Light, Medium, and Dark, too many people just twist the dial all the way past dark to Burnt to a Crisp. Avoid that setting. That’s where most people get tripped up.

Jonah advises Cyrus to not eat his burnt bread, and Cyrus agrees.

Buffy presents her toast, which is more like the concept of toast.

Buffy claims it wasn’t fair because Jonah was using the toaster. To think, if only Jonah had used the toaster less, both he and Buffy could’ve made decent toast and been in the running to win... I don’t know, something. I really don’t know what we’re doing here.

Anyway, because Jonah sabotaged both his and Buffy’s chance to win the Toast-Off, Andi can walk away with the competition if she’s just made a piece of non-ruined toast.

And, of course, Andi went extra and made some kind of toast chicken coop.

Seems like an easy win, but Cyrus can’t declare it thus until he’s had a taste.

He thinks it’s pretty good, but there’s a flavor on it he can’t place. What is that, he asks.

Cyrus spits it out as Jonah and Buffy chuckle about one of their friends almost poisoning their other friend.

I guess it was only right to get one last random cold open in before the show ended. Here’s to the nonsense cold opens: the Toast-Offs, the extended oral hygiene montages, the projects for school about eggs, the bad coffees made, the phone chargers stolen, the games of Scrabble played, the times the Mack family argued about what to eat or what to watch or who stole clothes from whom. Oh, random nonsense cold opens, you were always... there, and we shall sometimes remember you.

49 or so minutes left. Each one from here on out? Truly precious.

At Celia’s, Celia has gathered her family around to do an aggressively large jigsaw puzzle.

Frankly, I’m a bit worried for her. This puzzle size is the type you buy when you want to make a statement: No, I don’t have anything better to do and no, I don’t plan on leaving the house for the next week! This puzzle is my life now.

Bex comes walking in, finishing a phone conversation. She tells the family she won something. The family guesses what she won, but they don’t come anywhere close to the right answer, which is a free meal cooked by famous chef Raoul Ricci. No one’s heard of Raoul Ricci, not even Celia, which you might think would tip them off that something’s afoot here, but no one seems interested in digging for the truth.

Even a quick Google search would’ve told them that something was wrong, as it seems the only known Raoul Ricci is an Italian dentist.

Or, as they call them in Rome, a dentista.

Anyway, Bex explains, through a long and bewildering story, Raoul Ricci was famous and had restaurants, but then he didn’t want to have restaurants anymore, so he left to be a hermit.

Andi’s like...

...oh, can we keep him?

Bex explains the prize is that he’s going to cook for them. They just have to go out into the forest and find him. Once they do, though, he’s going to make them the meal of a lifetime.

I can’t stress enough how shady this sounds. There’s a 75% chance this ends with Raoul Ricci chasing the Macks through the woods in some kind of “Most Dangerous Game” type scenario.

Bowie and Andi are in. Celia’s like, this sounds like an awful pain.

Bex warns her if she doesn’t go, the whole family is going to “rhapsodize” about this meal forever. Quick question: where does Bex get off? Just dropping rhapsodize in a sentence like that? Who does she think she is? I’m offended for Celia and I’m offended for us.

Celia is still not interested, despite the threats of rhapsodization, so Bex turns to Andi and Bowie for help. They basically say they’re not going to do puzzle-time with Celia unless she goes with them to the woods, so she relents, with one condition.

A puzzle so big it causes you mental anguish just thinking about it. It ain’t a real puzzle unless your fingers are bleeding by the end.

Meanwhile, Cyrus, Buffy, and Jonah walk around, somewhere, and talk about that “thing” they all have tomorrow. Jonah’s worried he won’t be able to make the thing because his family is moving. Cyrus and Buffy agree to help him move, but Jonah asks Buffy if she will be able to, given her foot and all.

Buffy’s like, of course I can...

Okay, but I’m pretty sure a strong gust of wind could lift Cyrus. I would require stronger proof. Jonah, however, doesn’t need to see more than that minor show of strength, and agrees to let them help.

The next day, the Mack family is all loaded up in Celia’s SUV that we’re seeing for the first time this entire series in the penultimate episode. Celia goes through a long series of things to get ready to leave: moving seats, checking mirrors, putting on gloves, searching for sunglasses. It’s agonizing.

Eventually Celia puts on her suit of knight armor and night-vision goggles and chugs an entire large coffee and she’s ready to operate a motor vehicle.

I do want to warn her though, she should make sure all those production lights and reflectors are moved out of the way before she starts driving.

Wouldn’t want to run over one of the crew members.

Celia drives off. They head for the mountains.

And in a hurry, too. Celia seems to be doing at least 80 on these winding mountain roads.

Me? I’d be worried about ice or sudden hazards or taking a turn too fast, but I guess the Macks trust Celia’s driving ability more than I trust my own.

The Macks all sing songs and make jokes and-- OH MY GOD!

LOOK OUT FOR THAT BUS!

THEY’RE BOTH DOING 70 ON A TWO LANE MOUNTAIN ROAD AND HEADING RIGHT FOR EACH OTHER!

IS EVERY DRIVER IN THIS TOWN MAD?!

The family survives that hairpin turn, though, and makes it up to Mount Washington, named, of course, after America’s most famous obelisk.

Bex leads them onto the trail at Panther’s Hollow, which naturally leads Celia to ask if there are panthers around. Bowie’s like, no, no. Well, maybe one.

And then he scares the hell out of an already nervous elderly woman.

Everyone has a good laugh about it and they set off walking to find the hermit.

Then we get about twelve minutes of footage of the Mack family walking through the woods. I’m not going to include screencaps. I’m just adding that for posterity’s sake.

Over at the storage unit the Beck family rented to put all their stuff in, Cyrus and Buffy help Jonah move said stuff into trucks.

Cyrus comes across a crate of old VHS tapes and DVDs and screams when he sees their contents.

He calls Buffy over to show her.

It’s Judy Bartholomew!

Who’s Judy Bartholomew? She’s an old workout video lady who became a meme. Cyrus feels like he has to show Buffy the video, so he pulls out his phone.

They both have a good laugh about it. Cyrus is surprised to learn she’s real. He’s like, I can’t believe how big a fan Jonah’s mom is. She must be to have the entire Judy Bart collection like this.

Then Jonah’s mom shows up and she’s like, hey Jojobear, can I finally meet your friends? The ones you’ve been good friends with for like a year and a half now and that you won’t let me be around for some reason?

She walks over to Cyrus and Buffy who are shocked to see the Judy Bartholomew standing right in front of them.

Jonah’s like, yeah, it’s her.

Honestly, I’m impressed Jonah’s been able to hide his mom from his friends for this long. Did they never hang out around his family? Did she never come to pick him up from some place?

And doesn’t she wonder who his friends are? When he’d talk about the stuff they’d done together, would she just sit there going, “Oh, that sounds nice, Jonah. Sure would like to meet some of your friends one of these days.” And would Jonah be like, “Uh huh, yeah, you should,” and then he’d just continue putting it off for 15 months? Just kept kicking that can down the road?

Anyway, I still appreciate the show broaching this subject. Media so often lacks in representation of children whose parents have become internet memes.

Back out in the woods, the Macks walk through the woods. All but Bex grow restless. They ask her for proof that she knows where she’s going, like a map.

This doesn’t make them feel comforted.

Bowie pulls Bex aside and asks her what’s really going on. Bex is like, you trust me, right? Bowie says of course. Bex is like, okay, good, back into the forest we go and she walks off.

Bowie tells Andi and Celia it will all be worth it, like a liar, and they start another walking through the woods montage. Bex carries Andi. Bowie carries Celia.

This episode has more characters carrying other characters than any other episode the show has done.

Back at the storage unit, Judy Bart teaches Cyrus and Buffy how to trot.

She’s doing like this locomotion move, very simple.

Cyrus is like, AM I DOING IT?!

As he twists his body back and forth and throws his arms out.

Like, no, man. You can’t tell that what you’re doing is nothing like what Judy is doing? That it’s like, almost the opposite of what she’s doing?

Judy tells Jonah to show them how to do it, so Jonah steps up and does a whole dance routine that I’m also not sure is what Judy was doing.

But it looked good and had a nice finish, so whatever.

Jonah says he’s been doing that since he was six and it’s permanently ingrained in his head now like so many childhood scars.

Then Judy’s like, hey, didn’t you kids have to be in the mountains right about now? And they’re like, oh yeah, we have to get changed and get to the mountains, so they leave her in the storage unit.

Speaking of the mountains, the Macks find rocks.

They collapse on the rocks.

Bex is like, no, don’t sit on rocks now! We almost made it. The family doesn’t want to believe her, but she convinces them it’s true. She leads them around the bend where they find a fancy set up and...

Cyrus?

You see, Cyrus, for three years now, has been posing as celebrity chef Raoul Ricci and sneaking off to the mountains to prepare three course meals for random tourists.

No, wait.

Buffy appears from out of nowhere and this whole thing reeks of a setup.

How in the world did these two get up here so fast from the storage facility? Helicopter?

Andi’s like, what is going on? Where is the hermit I was promised?

Bex tells everyone there’s no hermit. This was all made up to trick everyone into going to the mountains. Bowie asks why.

Bowie’s like, oh, is that back on?

Cyrus and Buffy bring them rings and flowers.

Bowie’s says finally and they embrace.

They all head for a gazebo.

Jonah plays Bowie’s song, “You Girl”, on the guitar.

Andi walks Bex to Bowie.

The two take each other’s hands as the officiant begins doing his officianting.

Where did he come from, too? Did Jonah and Buffy and Cyrus ride up here with him? Carpool?

The wedding goes as weddings do. You know, rings and stuff. Bex and Bowie are about to kiss when--

Everyone looks around trying to figure out whose phone that is before Andi realizes it’s hers. She shuts it off and the music and kissing starts again.

They complete the kiss this time.

Bex is like, I know... it’s been a lot. Thanks for not fleeing.

Later, Bex and Bowie delight in calling each other husband and wife. Everyone is sort of shocked it actually finally happened.

The Mack family (the ones we’re still counting) share a hug.

That night, Cyrus shows Andi the Judy Bart videos and then he brags that they spent the day with her. Jonah says he introduced her to them. Andi doesn’t believe he knows her, but Jonah’s like, yeah, I do.

Andi’s stunned. She feels bad, but, in fairness to Andi, it’s super weird that Jonah kept her hidden this long anyway, especially from Andi of all people. She couldn’t be expected to make that guess.

Jonah’s like, don’t feel bad, the whole thing is funny. He used to be embarrassed about it but he’s over it. Andi says she can’t wait to meet her. And then they talk about meeting Jonah’s dad. Buffy makes a joke about his dad being one of the hairy guys from the workout video and Jonah’s like, yeah, he is.

Everyone sits around thinking about this for a second before they all decide Jonah’s joking.

He’s not.

I don’t know what makes them think Jonah has suddenly acquired a subtle sense of humor. Jonah’s idea of jokes are jump scaring Andi and “S’less.” You really think he’s got a level of clever beneath all that that he’s been hiding for a year and a half as if it was his mother?

Jonah leaves without saying another word.

Can I just take a quick second to try to piece together the history of the Beck family, because I find it fascinating.

So, sometime in the 1980s/early 1990s (I assume based on the fashion), Judy Bartholomew makes it big as a workout video star. Jonah’s father, Mr. Beck, is hired at some point to be a background guy in one of her videos.

I assume this is where they meet and fall in love. Later, they get married and have Jonah.

In the years that follow, Jonah’s dad undergoes a full-body transformation, getting buff and changing hairstyles and retires from the workout video business to coach little league, and, I guess, control the finances of the Judy Bartholomew workout empire.

Eventually, Jonah’s dad invests the Judy Bartholomew fortune unwisely, and the family loses their house, and they’re homeless until very recently when he gets a new job. Doing what? I have no idea. I can’t begin to assume what his area of expertise is.

I guess my question is this: does any child in this town have a quiet, average family? Buffy’s mom spends half her life in foreign countries doing work for the military and Buffy’s family is still somehow the most normal of the group’s.

Later, Andi wanders off from the group and checks her phone. That call earlier? It was from SAVA.

The school left her a voicemail. Andi listens to it and gets sad, but I don’t think in the “rejected from a school” way.

Plus, I don’t think schools call you just to tell you to screw off. “Hi, this is Caroline from SAVA. Is this Andi Mack? Okay, great. Just calling to tell you you weren’t good enough to get into our school. Have a nice evening.”

Bex and Bowie sneak up on Andi and scare her.

God, this poor girl must live in constant fear. Why is everyone always doing this to her?

As the episode ends, Bex and Bowie talk about how happy they are right now. Andi says she is, too.

Though, as TJ would say, “Tell your face.”

Speaking of TJ...

Aww, this is the last time I get to be excited about seeing TJ in the scenes from the next episode.

One more to go, people. One more.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Celia Mack #Bowie Quinn #Judy Bartholomew #Dr. Raoul Ricci DDS. #episode recaps

[sashatrr]

Breathe with me. Chapter 19

Chaptere 18 here

Hana entered her room and threw  Masquerade mask on the bed. She was more excited than usual but also very stressed. For a months following that night when Liam threw her away like a broken toy, she was trying to find something that would destroy his marriage. He didn't look at her once since she came back to court and Hana was smart enough to understand that she doesn't attract him anymore. But would it change, she will take any opportunity. Despite the pain he caused, despite his disinterest in her, she loved him desperately and couldn't imagine a better thing in this life than to be by his side, to be held by him like once before and to be loved back. 

And now, after months she spent, desperately looking for a tiniest hint of scandal, tiniest weakness in Liam's privacy, she finally heard something interesting. 

If Muhammad doesn't come to a mountain then a mountain will come to Muhammad. I might never get another chance so I must to orchestrate the situation, to make sure that there will be a scandal that will ruin this marriage. But how? Good thing that I can use Rashad but this is not enough. Maybe if I had someone who is close to Liam all the time. I need someone who will give me the information. So far I have nothing. 

Hana found her phone under pile of clothes and dialed a number. 

-Good morning, father. I hope I didn't wake you up. 

-Good morning, Hana. No, you didn't. I am already working. Everything is fine? - she heard reply. 

Hana knew that her father didn't like when she called for no reason and even more than that he hated his work to be interrupted so she went straight to the point. 

-Father, I need a help. Dad, it's very important. Can you find a way to bribe one of Liam's bodyguards or something? 

-Liam? As a king of Cordonia? Hana, my girl, why do you need me to bribe one of his bodyguards? First of all, this is impossible. Second, I don't like sound of that. Have you lost your mind? What do you want to do to Liam? 

-I am not going to do anything to Liam and I haven't lost my mind. It's opposite. I want to do what you sent me here for.  - Hana replied to her father. 

-We sent you there to find a good match, Hana. The King is married already so you must focus on Lord Rashad. That's why you were sent back to the court. 

-And what if I tell you that I can change that? - Hana was desperate to convince her father. Without her parents help she was designed to fail. She had no needed connections.

-Is that a possibility, Hana? Do you think that its possible? You failed when he was single and looking for a bride. What makes you think that you can succeed now when he is married? - There was confusion in Mr. Lee voice. 

-Now he doesn't have Constantine to make choices for him, dad. - Hana was bluffing and she knew it. Even without Constantine she was far from conquesting Liam. 

-We can't talk about it on the phone, my child - Mr. Lee replied after a minute.-Come home so we can discuss everything. 

-OK, father… - Hana started but was interrupted. 

-No, me and your mother will come to Cordonia. If what you are saying is possible, I need to be there and see what I can do. 

Hana said goodbye to her father and unzipped a dress. On a bright side, she already had a friend in Madeleine's entourage and Penelope was clueless enough to become Hana's tool. 

***

Madeleine was sitting in front of the mirror  removing make up. She was restless, a desire was driving her crazy but there was no way to satisfy it right now. Finally she was done, Madeleine rubbed night cream into her skin and grabbed  phone to check a schedule. Adjusting to the role of Queen kept her busy and somewhat distracted from what her body needed. 

According to her schedule, this week her and Liam had to attend European Union leaders summit in Paris. While Liam would be meeting with presidents and prime ministers, she would be stuck with their wives smiling for the pictures. But at least she will have nights all for herself. 

That's my last chance before I am getting pregnant. 

After that it will be to dangerous for a baby. 

Liam wasn't kidding when he said that her funds will be very limited but she had money from her estate. 

Just this one time. Luck is on my side, Paris is the place I need. It won't be cheap but I can't resist. Time to renew my membership. 

Madeleine walked to the bedroom, got in her bed and turned off the lamp. Her fingers touched a swollen bud and she moaned loudly. 

***

Meanwhile in New York Lina just came home after having coffee with Thomas. They met right after she called him and Lina suspected that he had to cancel a few meetings for it but she wasn't sure. 

She felt very awkward at first but Thomas didn't touch any sensitive subjects and after thirty minutes it felt like a meeting of two friends. 

Lina didn't love him, her heart belonged to Liam but just now she realized that she was missing him. The evenings they spent in his apartments talking about anything and everything, that feeling of stability he was giving her. But at the same time Lina knew that it would be cruel to string him along. He needed to forget about her and the best way to do it was to never see her again. With a heavy heart Lina said that it's their last meeting. He needed closure and she gave it to him. 

Lina took a quick shower, changed and then got a phone out of her purse. It was dead, she forgot to charge it a night before. She wondered if Liam tried to call her while her phone was dead but laughed at herself. Wistful thinking. He hasn't called her for days and it made her to feel forgotten and neglected. At least she could comfort herself imagining that he tried to call her but her phone was dead. 

She plugged the charger in, waited a minute and turned the phone on. In thirty seconds the screen lighted up and Lina entered her pin. Almost immediately the phone in her hand buzzed and she saw Liam's picture on the screen but before she could answer the call, the phone went dead again. She put it in the night table and sat on the bed. Her heart was beating so fast that she heard every beat. A happiness washed over her. 

He didn't forget about me. He called. 

But as quick as it came, her happiness was replaced with disgust.

Lina was disgusted with herself. It took only seeing his name on the screen to make her a completely happy person. She realized what a huge power over her he has now. 

This is really scary. God, I am so scared. He isn't mine, he is many kilometers away hidden behind palace walls and bodyguards. He can toss me away any second and I'll never see him again. Who am I in his life? Just a toy he can play with for a few months? For a year? Or maybe he doesn't want me anymore? He can have any woman he wants. How will I survive it? Will I survive it when he will want to move on? Or maybe that's what he wants now. 

He had a power to smash her heart into million pieces  and she will never be able to gather those pieces together again, she just knew it somehow. Right in this moment she realized that this is it, her "once in lifetime" love. Even if they spent together only one month, it was enough to make Liam a center of Lina's universe. 

With a shaking hand she reached for her phone and tried to turn it on again. The battery was at ten percent already so she dialed Liam's number. 

Liam answered  almost immediately. 

-Lin, are you alright? - she heard his voice even before she had time to say hello. 

-Yes, yes I am. And you? 

-Not so good- he replied. - Your phone was off, then you declined my call so I was worried. Mara wouldn't tell me anything. 

Lina giggled quietly. 

-Did you call her? Because I sent her home after an interview. 

-What interview? - Liam asked, there was a concern in his voice for some reason. 

-Job interview. I had one earlier today. Haven't Mara told you? 

-No, she refused to say anything about you. Said that I gave her some order not to report to me. 

Lina giggled again. 

-Well, anyway, this interview went really well and I am hoping to have this job. Then Mara can return to Cordonia because there is no way she would follow me to my work. - Lina said remembering her earlier decision to put an end to this elitarist madness. She wasn't some kind of celebrity to be followed by bodyguards. 

-Mara is not returning to Cordonia. If you don't want to have her with you all the time that's alright. But at least allow her to be there, just in case of emergency. It's a life, baby. Anything could happen.

-Okay, she can stay here as my roommate then. This place is to big for me anyway. - Lina was glad that she managed to solve this so quick. There was no point to insist for Mara to leave. They hardly ever met inside of penthouse, Mara's room was in another wing. - So enough about me. How are you doing for real? 

Lina heard Liam's breath, like something was waging him. 

-I am okay I guess. The Masquerade is wrapping up right now, I left early.

-A Masquerade-Lina repeated. - Sounds fancy. Did you have fun? 

-It was okay but honestly, I wish I could skip it and talk to you instead. And sleep for some twenty hours after. - His voice really did sound tired. 

Lina closed her eyes enjoying the sound  of his voice. She missed him so much. She wanted nothing more but to be held by him again, just to put her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. 

I wish. He won't be returning to me after hard day at work like it happens with everyone else. 

Lina snapped out of her thoughts. 

-Baby are you there? - she heard Liam asking. 

-Yes I am, sorry. What did you say? 

-I said that I might come to New York in two weeks. 

Lina's heart dropped. Two weeks. It was too long. She needed to see him sooner, much sooner. 

-That's great. - she couldn't   hide disappointment in her voice but Liam interpreted it in his own way. 

-You don't sound to happy about it.- his voice now mirrored hers, full of disappointment. 

-I am. I'll be glad to see you. - Lina held her tongue back, she didn't want to sound desperate. Anything to hide how desperately she missed him. 

-Me too. I miss you. I really do. - Liam added quietly and Lina's heart melted a bit, he sounded so sincere. 

-Me too, Liam. I miss you too. 

They spoke a bit longer but Liam sounded so tired that Lina finished a call sending him to get some sleep. 

Next morning a phone call woke Lina up. Without looking at callers ID she picked up and heard female voice in the other end. 

-Good morning, miss Andrews. It's Rebecca Mason from Nixon Technologies. 

Lina sat straight in her bed trying to sound like she woke up hours ago and not just now. 

-Good morning, miss Mason. 

-Your candidature was approved. Thought not for a position you originally applied for. 

Lina rubbed her eyes in confusion. 

-What does it mean?-she asked. 

-You see, miss Andrews, there was a situation. To keep it short, mister Nixon needs to replace his assistant and he approved your resume for it. 

Lina gasped. Even she knew that Nixon from Nixon Technologies had to be some nob on the very top. 

-But I wasn't applying for assistant position. I don't even have a necessary experience. 

-Nevertheless the position is yours, Miss Andrews. 

Lina wanted to pinch herself to check if she was still sleeping and all of it was just a dream. 

-Who is mister Nixon anyway? - she asked. 

There was a few moments of silence on the other end before woman answered. 

-Mister Nicholas Nixon, a chief executive officer of Nixon Technologies, miss Andrews. - there was less patience in woman's voice now. - So are you interested? 

Lina doubted for only a few seconds. After so many failures she finally got a job and not just any job. She had to try. Even if she will fail, at least she tried. 

-Yes, yes I am. When do you need me to start? - Lina said quickly. 

-Yesterday, miss Andrews. The sooner is better. Normally you would have two weeks before you could take the position but mister Nixon can not exist without assistant for so long. Could you start tomorrow? 

-Yes of course. - Lina discussed some details and finished a call. 

Immediately she opened Google on her phone and searched the name. She scrolled through several articles and images and rolled her eyes. Hundreds of pictures from charity galas and other red carpet events, always with different women. Not even two pictures with the same one. She wasn't surprised though. Who could resist such a man? 

Great, she will be working for famous New York playboy. 

***

Liam was sitting on a boring meeting with his cabinet of ministers preparing for a Paris summit. He didn't need to listen to them because he heard all of it a hundred times before and read it all in their reports to him but years of training were paying off, he was nodding in all right moments and asking all the right questions even if he knew the answer already. Every minister thought that his area of responsibility is the most important one and his matters should be brought up first and discussed with one or another European leader. But Liam wasn't going to discuss any of that with any of the leaders. It was all internal affairs of Cordonia, he was going to keep his country independent as much as its possible in current global political situation. Economically the country was thriving thanks to his father and Liam was going to follow his steps keeping at heart only interest of his people, no ones else. 

Finally the meeting was over and Liam raised from his chair. He walked through long palace halls to his study and opened a door to see Drake pacing the floor nervously. 

-Drake? Is everything alright? - Liam asked concerned for his friend. 

-I don't know. - Drake answering stopping to pace just long enough to look at Liam. - I found a lead. 

-A lead? - Liam asked confused. 

-I know where Savannah can be. - Drake answered impatiently. 

Liam smiled and crossed the room to his chair. 

-That's great, Drake. Finally. So where is she? 

-I think that she is in Paris. You are going there this week, right? - Drake asked hopefully. 

-Yes, we are heading there tomorrow night. 

Drake's shoulders dropped. He was clearly impatient to check this lead but feared to do this alone. 

-But we can leave in two hours. I can clear my schedule. There is nothing that can't wait till next week.-Liam continued. 

-Yes! - Drake was almost yelling by now. 

-Very well. 

Liam dialed his secretary number. 

-Stavros, let Bastien know that we are heading to Paris in two hours. Also cancel all my meetings and let her Majesty know that her and her ladies in waiting must be ready by then. Also warn a staff in my Paris residence that we are arriving earlier than expected. 

-Yes, Sire. - he heard a reply and finished a call. 

***

Hana was walking palace corridor when she saw staff hurriedly carrying bags from Liam's and Madeleine wing of the palace. She knew that they shouldn't leave until tomorrow. 

Hana stopped one of the footman and asked him what's going on. 

-Their Majesties are leaving early, Mylady. - footman answered and hurried away. 

Hana wondered if this change of plans had anything to do with conversation she overheard last night on Masquerade. 

It could be. Liam might be impatient to see what Paris has to offer him. Anyway I must be there. 

Hana hurried to her room and pulled an app on her phone. She checked when the next flight to Paris leaves. It was in four hours from now. Enough time to pack a bag and get to airport. Hana booked a place in the first class and called a maid to prepare her bag. She didn't need to pack much. Anything she lacks could be bought there. The only thing she really wanted couldn't be packed or bought. 

@indiacater​ @drakesensworld​ @annekebbphotography​ @hopefulmoonobject​  @jared2612​ @dcbbw​

#the royal romance #trr #trr liam #choices trr #choices fanfiction #choices liam x mc #liam x mc #trr liam x mc #Breathe With Me

[thekriseffect]

Alone Part 1 (Liam x MC)

[Note: It’s been way too long since I posted anything (inspiration wasn’t flowing for me at all). I know this doesn’t really fit in with The Royal Heir’s timeline very well but I always imagined Freya’s pregnancy to be a surprise rather than something that was planned (I’m also not a huge fan of the demanded pregnant angle in general. Plus angst is just too much fun to write… which sounds kinda sinister when I put it out there like that...) Anyways! I hope you enjoy it! TRH continues to be my writing muse at the moment so expect more of these two from me.]

[Summary: Freya, newly crowned queen with some unexpected news weighing down on her shoulders, struggles with the reality of their situation as her and Liam begin their honeymoon. Set in the first chapter of The Royal Heir. Part 2 can be found here.]

[Tag List: @lodberg, @cora-nova, @romanticatheart-posts @texaskitten30, @bbrandy2002]

It was a strange feeling, sitting across from Liam, eating our meal together in a comfortable silence with the sound of waves and the scent of salt, life, and wet sand surrounding us like everything was right in the world. So strange that I had no idea how to act, let alone what to say. You know your life defies normality when you aren’t sure how to act like an ordinary human being anymore.

What should I do with my eyes? Do I look at him while we eat or would that be weird? Do I look behind him or does that make it seem like I’m not paying enough attention? Maybe I should just look at the food? I think I’ll just look at the food…

It was the first evening of our honeymoon and I found myself more keyed up now than I did before our wedding. Shyly glancing down whenever our eyes would meet and exchanging uncertain, careful touches reserved for people who were still in stage one of their relationships. It was ridiculous, yet every time I looked at Liam I couldn’t hold back the wave of guilt that threatened to drown me. Because he still didn’t know.

It had been almost two weeks since I’d taken the test in that grungy, outdated bathroom with shaking fingers, one week since the attack at our wedding which threatened to take everything away from me, and eleven restless nights of seeing those two hair-raising pink lines every time I closed my eyes. And still I hadn’t told Liam that I was pregnant.

I’d exhausted every excuse imaginable for my reasoning's. The timing wasn’t right with the wedding coming up. Anton needed to be our main priority, not what was cooking in my stomach. Bertrand would go into mother hen mode which was exhausting to just think about. I didn’t want to stress Liam out more than he already was. Though the reality was much simpler; I was still floating blissfully in my own pool of denial and telling Liam would make it real, which was something that I wasn’t even close to being ready for. Call me selfish.

I studied him as he stared off into the horizon, the last of the day’s rays highlighting his cheeks and bronzing his hair before he turned to give me his private smile. The one that was so relaxed and so content that it made my ears burn like I was a bashful schoolgirl. The one that was reserved for me alone. I looked away.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“Hey.” The concern laced in his voice had me glancing up from my nearly full plate. “Everything alright?”

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “I still can’t believe that we’re actually here,” I dodged as I artistically rearranged the food with my fork for the hundredth time. “It doesn’t feel real.” It wasn’t a lie, not really.

“I know what you mean. I half expect the kingdom to be in chaos when we get back.”

“Their king is away on a remote island for a whole week, chaos is inevitable,” I teased.

“And their queen,” he corrected.

I blinked slowly as my mind came to a screeching halt at that reality. Oh, right. “It’ll never not be weird hearing that, will it?”

“You were always going to be my queen, Freya. From the moment you decided I was worth it.” He said it so nonchalantly, like he was making a simple comment about the weather, that I had to hide my smirk behind my hand. A silly grin lit up his face. “What?”

“You don’t even have to try, do you? You’re like a walking hallmark card.”

“I’m not sure what that means but it sounded like an insult,” Liam said while amusement made his eyes crinkle in the corners enduringly.

“Of the highest regard,” I shot back.

___

Time passed in a blur. We ate, laughed, and chatted about nothing in particular while the sun set behind us before seeing the staff off for the night, leaving us and the island to ourselves. Stars dotted the night sky as Liam and I walked the beach, my arm swinging his loosely with the rough grains of sand sticking to our bare feet. It felt so easy being here with him, just the two of us. I couldn’t remember the last time we were truly alone. I frowned. Have we ever been alone like this before?

His long fingers played with mine as we wandered. Brushing against the palm, tracing abstract patterns against its skin, tightly interlacing with my own. I loved Liam’s hands. Contrary to popular belief, they were hardened due to calluses with little perfect imperfections spotting his knuckles and thumbs. He had the hands of a man that worked hard which had come as a shock to me at first. You would think that a prince wouldn’t need to lift a finger for anything. Yet after getting to know him I decided it was perfectly in character for him, to be involved in the labor instead of watching from the sidelines. It was one of those characteristics that made Liam, Liam.

He was going to be a great dad.

The spontaneous thought had me stopping dead in my tracks with eyes the size of chargers. I tugged at his hand until he was standing at my side.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Everything’s going to change now.” It wasn’t a question.

He studied me for a moment before answering with a simple yet meaningful, “Yes.”

“What if I’m not ready? What if I ruin everything?”

“You won’t.”

It was meant to be comforting though instead it had anxiety creeping up my throat in the form of tiny little spiders. I broke away from him and squeezed the heel of my hand against my forehead so forcefully that I was sure it would leave a bruise. Maybe if I squeezed hard enough my problems would go away. “You can’t know that.”

I could feel when he stepped forward. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move to touch me, though he didn’t need to for me to know that he was there. I was constantly so aware of him that it sometimes drove me slightly insane. The commanding presence that followed him like a second skin wherever he went, the sound of his sleekly virile voice, that distinctive scent; fresh linens, mint, and something sharp that I couldn’t place. All attributes that I associated home with.

“Frey, I love you, but I also love my country.” Liam slid his palms down my shoulders to turn me around to face him. “If I didn’t think you could handle it we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“No, instead it would be Madeleine you’d be whispering sweet nothings to,” I murmured and his lips took a turn south. I sighed and pinched my eyes shut. What was I doing? This was supposed to be our honeymoon. It wasn’t his fault that I had the communication skills of a potato.

Drawing him closer, I circled my arms around his neck so our chests pressed together. My fingers twisted in the short hairs on his nape. “I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to take in at once.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told me. “Just tell me how I can help.”

You can’t help, not with this. Not right now. But I wasn’t going to tell him that, so instead I settled for something that I knew would defuse the attention from the topic. “Well… a kiss wouldn’t be unwelcomed.”

Liam smirked. “As you wish, my queen.” He leaned forward to bridge the space between our lips, his breath mingling deliciously with my own as he grew closer, and closer, and closer…

And just as his lips brushed mine, the anticipation so rich and solid that I could practically taste it, I pulled back smugly to meet his gaze. “That is if you can catch me first,” I said against his mouth before sprinting away with a giggle. He let out a shaky laugh before following me beyond the sands of the shore and into the cool, black water ahead.

#choices #choices stories you play #choices the royal heir #choices stories we play #pixelberry #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance #choices trr #liam x freya #liam x mc #choices liam x mc #choices liam #choices king liam #king liam #choices trh #the royal heir #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr #trh #fanfiction

[sunflower-fieldy]

The Tale of Two Heralds

Hi all! My friend and I are currently writing a Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction on Archive of Our Own and I thought I’d mention it on here! 

Link: The Tale of Two Heralds by Vulpeculara, AdamantlyAdamant

Rating: Explicit

Summary: They were never meant to have the mark, and yet they both did. Together, the Lavellan sisters have to build the Inquisition and defeat that which stands in their way. Of course, it is never that simple when it is not only a Tevinter magister, but also differing opinions and complicated relationships. This story is a tale of two Heralds.

Note: This story WILL have Dragon Age: Inquisition and Dragon Age: II spoilers!!!!!

Sample below the cut. 

Repeat (Lora)

Ashilora Lavellan awoke with a gasp. Sitting up, she felt her heart rapidly thump in her chest.  Her brows furrowed as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and took in the still unfamiliar world around her.

She shook her head. Shit. It was not just a dream.

Sighing, she pushed back the wet strands of her hair and slid out of her bed, pulling off the sheets that clung to her legs. She slowly stood up. Tuning her senses to the dawning sun outside of her windows, she squinted her eyes at the dancing light.

“Another day…here.”

Another day in Haven.

Her face scrunched up as all of the recently acquired memories came rushing back in violent, engulfing waves. She allowed herself to sigh once more. With a final dissatisfying look at the mountainous outdoors, she slumped to her washroom with regret on starting a new day.

The past few weeks had been absolute hell as far as Lora was concerned. The tremendous weight of her responsibilities had shown in the new slant of her shoulders and the sudden appearance of dark rings under her eyes. She’d been called a lot of things and judged a lot of ways all because of the glowing light which now dazzled around her left hand.

The mark.

As fascinating as it was, it changed her entire world in more ways than she would’ve appreciated in only a matter of mere seconds.

Just a short time ago, she and her sister Jamie were only elves. But now they were the Heralds of Andraste, or so they had been dubbed by people over Thedas. She wasn’t sure whether or not she enjoyed such a label, but her common acts of solitude gave her enough seclusion away from anyone who ever made her consider it.

The previous days had included hours of decision-making and looking over options with enough scrutiny to give her ongoing headaches. If only she had the reasoning her sister did for fighting, then perhaps she would be more on the battlefield. Instead, she tended to view fighting as a last resort and unnecessary, and that decisions needed to be more…calculated. So, in a short time span that passed in a blurry haze within her mind, she spent the majority of her time at the war table with several new coworkers, dealing a hand in the fate of the reestablished Inquisition.

And today was to be a repeat of yesterday and the day before that: building the Inquisition’s strength.

Lora walked out of her temporary washroom, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever the future was to throw at her today. She dressed herself in light armor, and left her hair to hang below her shoulders. Taking a step outside her doors, she braced herself for the chilly mountain air to collide against her face. She shivered in the breeze that brought tingles to her skin. She still wasn't used to such temperatures, and she was beginning to doubt that she ever would be.

She proceeded to walk to the side of her makeshift home and visited Falon, her pet halla, in his stable. He kicked in excitement upon seeing her and bowed his head.

“Greetings, Falon,” she said to him, “are you ready for another day?”

He jumped around his small area in response.

She smiled. “As am I.”

As the Inquisition was low on food supplies, she only partially filled his trough with leftover pickings from their army soldiers.

“Ir abelas,” she whispered as he already hungrily devoured his food. Guilt burned inside of her as she noted his already bony appearance.

When she’d finished tending to Falon, she took the quickest and least crowded route to where she would conduct her business for the day, and the entirety of the way she averted her eyes so as to avoid the stares she still was getting from those residing in Haven.

   Before the Storm (Jamie)

Jamie Lavellan sat on the high wall overlooking the soldiers who were slowly trickling out of their tents to begin another day of training. The sun was just peeking over the tree line in the distance. It had been several weeks since the Inquisition found Jamie and her sister who had barely escaped the Conclave with their lives thanks to Andraste. And now they were the Heralds of Andraste…

Jamie shook her head as she thought about this. Their lives had changed so dramatically in the past few weeks; it was hard to keep up. She knew it was even harder on her sister. Being part of the Inquisition meant dealing with people. All kinds of people. There were people like Solas, a fellow elf, who seemed to understand what the two sisters were going through, to people like Chancellor Roderick who would have rather seen the two elven sisters dead. Jamie could handle these types of people fairly well and tried to keep her sister, Lora, out of their way as much as possible.

The past few days standing around the War Table had taken its toll on Jamie almost as much as it had on Lora. While Lora was good at knowing what was best diplomatically, Jamie wanted to be out there fighting. Actually seeing the difference and not just talking about it. Those hours just standing around had made Jamie restless. Hence, why she was watching the soldiers wake up instead of sleeping like everyone else.

Fortunately for Jamie, today she was going to be leading small group to scout out the Storm Coast. There was a group out there called the Chargers lead by a qunari named the Iron Bull. Jamie figured it was worth going since they could use any allies they could get. Lora was hesitant to agree on this notion however. That wasn’t going to stop Jamie from going, but she promised her sister that she would be cautious.

Haven was now audibly gearing up for another day and the sound swords clanking together below Jamie refreshed her. However, it was because of all the noise, she did not hear footsteps approaching her.

“Sleep well?”

Jamie turned quickly to face the speaker. It was Varric who was smirking at her.

“You know, I think this is the only time I’ve been taller than you,” he commented, walking up to stand next to her.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jamie replied, leaning back on her hands.

The two looked out over the training soldiers for several silent moments. They watched as Cullen walked out onto the training grounds. Varric shifted slightly and looked at her.

“You never answered my question,” he said.

Jamie quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Jamie turned away from him again. “I didn’t sleep at all. These past few days have been rough, to say the least. I need to be out there, doing something! Not just sitting around planning.”

“Planning seems to be more of your sister’s thing anyway,” Varric pointed out thoughtfully. “Aren’t you headed out to the Storm Coast today with the Seeker, elf boy, and that Warden? What’s his name? Brownwall or something?”

Jamie smiled at Varric’s obvious attempts to lighten the mood. “Yes, I am going with Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall to the Storm Coast today. Maker knows I need a change of scenery.”

“Maker?” Varric asked. “Aren’t you an elf?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s an expression,” Jamie explained. “Besides, I’m not sure if you’d recognize an elven god if it walked right up to you and stole Bianca.”

Varric looked appalled. “I’ve got nothing against you elves, but that’s taking it a bit too far!”

Before Jamie could respond, Cassandra’s voice broke in. “Herald, we are ready to travel to the Storm Coast when you are,” she said, as she, Blackwall, and Solas walked up to them. Varric’s eyes went wide when he saw Solas carrying what appeared to be Bianca.

“What are you doing with Bianca?!” he exclaimed. Solas looked impassive as he handed over Varric’s pride and joy.

“I found it propped up against the wall outside the tavern. I took it upon myself to return it to you,” Solas answered easily. Varric huffed his thanks and stomped away.

Jamie stood and turned to her companions. “We need to get to the Storm Coast as fast as possible. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back. Mother Giselle thinks it best that we go to Val Royeaux to appeal to the Chantry.”

“Leliana wanted to speak to us before we go,” Cassandra said as they began walking towards the Haven Chantry.

Jamie rolled her shoulders. “She’d better make it quick."

#Thank you for your time! #Dragon Age #Dragon Age: Inquisition #dragonage #dai #da #solavellan #solas #lavellan #cassandra #Cassandra Pentaghast #josephine montilyet #josephine #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fic #Solas Dragon Age #Cullen rutherford #cullen #Cole #Vivienne de Fer #Vivienne #Blackwall #AO3 #Archive of Our Own #Varric Tethras #Varric #The Iron Bull #Iron Bull

[sleepyfan-blog]

asdfg fan your writing is so good tho,,, may i request a ibvs chrevinstoph- "Any shorter and you'd probably fade out of existence." ? you don't have to follow the prompt if you don't wanna tho!! ^^"

Fandom: IBVS by @onebizarrekai

Characters and pairing: Nevin Jovel, Christoph Jackson, Isaac Beamer, Barry Price, Edward Quinton, Various Parents, chrevinstoph

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,103

Summary: Chris got cursed. He’s not the only one.

“… When you texted me to come over because you were having a problem, I wasn’t expecting this to be it, Chris.” Nevin remarked as he grinned at his boyfriend, wandering over to where the other was sitting, gently poking the heterochromatic teen. He sobered up after a moment, as this could be really bad.

“Oh, ha-ha Nevin! I texted you for help first because I thought that you’d be the one least likely to laugh at me.” Cross sulked, folding his arms over his chest and sulking, prodding his phone and sighing a little as it slid towards him a little more.

“So… Do you have any idea how this happened? Or did you wake up like this, this morning? I was wondering why you weren’t in class today.” Nevin responded, tempted to take at least a couple of pictures of the other. He looked ridiculously adorable.

“No, I woke up normally… But as soon as I came downstairs for breakfast, I started losing height. Thank fucking god that I was still able to grab poptarts for breakfast and bring them to my room. It’s all I’ve been eating all day.” Cross huffed, kicking his tiny feet “For some reason, my clothes shrank down along with the rest of me, so at least I’m not naked. Father took one look at me this morning and said that he’d call the school saying I was sick. Then he went to work.”

“Have you kept shrinking all day? I really hope that you’ve stopped as if not… Any shorter and you’d probably fade out of existence.” Nevin murmured, kneeling down and unable to stop himself from reaching out to his currently six-inch tall boyfriend. He just… He looked so adorable. “And… Your… Dad just reacted like that? That’s… Really weird.”

“Yeah… I thought that he might freak out a little, express concern that I’m shrinking. But apparently I’m not even worth that.” Chris responded bitterly, scooting a little bit closer to his boyfriend. He’d made a nest out of socks because he got cold really easy the smaller that he got. “And as far as I can tell I’ve stopped shrinking. I hit this size about two hours ago and I don’t think I’ve gotten smaller since then… But like, the longer in the day it’s been, the slower I started shrinking? So I could still be getting smaller, just… Really slowly.”

“Huh… Do you know why you suddenly started shrinking?” Nevin prompted as he gently scooped up his boyfriend, bringing the other in close and pressing a kiss to the top of the other’s head.

“N… Hmm… Well, Isaac and me were hanging out together when Error showed up. He dragged us with him to deal with some sort of cursed doll. We managed to break the curse… At least I think we did? But the demonic spirit or whatever was that made it alive or whatever said that we’d regret doing it, and that we’d learn what it was like to suffer as it had done.” Chris answered honestly “I would have texted you for help in dealing with it, but Error said that the creature gained power with the use of electronics, so he made us ditch our phones.”

“… You got cursed by a possessed doll? … Wait does that mean that Isaac and Error are also Tiny?” Nevin’s eyes widened a little and he nearly doubled over with laughter, not wanting to accidentally hurt the other, though the mental image of the self-proclaimed school king being so tiny was the funniest thing he’d heard of all week. “I’m going to borrow your computer - see if there’s anything on the web about a cures like this.”

“I’ve been trying to look it up on my phone, and there’s apparently something called a ‘bittybones curse’ but the websites won’t load correctly on my phone.” Cross grumbled, looking incredibly adorable in his thin grey t-shirt and black sweatpants. He shivered a little and asked “… I need to stay warm, so either hold me closer or put me in my sock-nest please.”

“… I have a couple of granola bars in my backpack, if you want to eat that, also a short water bottle I won in PE. Drew and I were the only survivors in a brutal dodgeball war today. It was a lot of fun.” Nevin offered, a worried frown appearing on his face as he looked his boyfriend over.

“I… Please. My poptart supply is dangerous low, and I’ve been dreading trying to get more water to drink at this size.” Cross answered after a moment, his eyes wide and pleading.

Nevin nodded and got the necessary items - unable to help but open the water bottle for the other - unsure as to whether or not he could manage to do so himself, but also not wanting to make the other mad for babying him. He walked over to the computer and - after Cross gave him the password - started to look up this bitty bones curse.

~

Two hours of frantic research later, and Nevin sighed “So, from every resource that seems the least bit credible, you’re probably not going to get any shorter. That’s the good news.”

Chris squinted at him “What, I don’t get to choose between good and bad news?” From the look on his boyfriend’s face… Oh fuck what had Error gotten him into this time? “… Alright… What stupid shit do we have to do in order to undo the curse now?”

“For one thing, I have to know for sure if it was just you who was cursed, or Isaac and Edward too. Because the curse has to be broken on the three of you simultaneously, or it won’t work. the second thing is, you’re going to be stuck like this for a week, minimum.” Nevin began, sighing a little and shaking his head. “… Also you and anyone else who has definitely been cursed at the same time has to live together, while being cared for by someone who genuinely cares for you and those who were also cursed… Shit. It seems as if I have to get Drew involved in this if Error’s been cursed too. They are dating after all.” This was not the way he would want their activities to be revealed to his twin brother.

“I’ll text them and ask if they’ve been cursed too.” Cross responded, his voice adorably squeaky. “I really don’t want to live with Error for a week. That would suck… Also how are we going to explain this to our parents? And your grandma… And Drew?”

“I… I don’t know! One step at a time, Cross. We need to figure out if it’s just you, or if more people have been cursed.” Nightmare responded, restless and unsure. There were also a couple of other ways to break the curse - but there was no way that he could afford any of those cures. Also it could put Chris in a lot of pain, so he’d rather not risk it.

“… Isaac and Error have both been cursed. They’re at Barry’s place right now, and apparently their parents are all freaking out super bad… And Isaac just sent me his address - so we should probably go.” Chris responded uncomfortably, shivering a little bit more.

“Okay - we should probably leave a not for your dad - in case he wonders where you’ve wandered off to. I’ll be sure to grab your phone and charger too.” Nevin offered, turning off the other’s computer, walking over to the other’s bed and carefully stuffing a bunch of Chris’s socks together so that it formed a sort of thick, tiny sleeping bag “Okay, hop in. This should help you stay warm.”

“Okay… I’ve almost finished texting Isaac, telling him that we’re headed over.” Chris responded, tapping out the message with his hands, grateful for auto-fill to reduce how much time it was taking.

~

To both of theirs mild surprise, Isaac’s mom insisted on coming to pick them up - despite the fact that it was less than a ten minute walk to Barry’s house - but neither one of them was going to question it. Nevin was a little unsure as to how to react as he’d never met Isaac’s mother before - knowing that she was very busy as a… Therapist? Psychologist? Something like that. He was busy trying to hold onto his boyfriend’s sock-sleeping bag carefully, holding the other close to his chest.

She tried to start a conversation with him a couple of different times on the very brief drive over, but all Nightmare could do was stare at Cross and try not to panic. He looked so tiny and vulnerable and… There was something strangely familiar about this situation, although why, he couldn’t tell. He could also sense both of the others’ concern as well.

One of Barry’s parents answered the door and gestured for him to come in, which Nightmare did as he rushed straight for the lorekeeper of the school, his other best friend, and Error. The latter was wrapped up in several long scarves and looked half-asleep. Ink was snuggled up in a mitten, drawing furiously with the end of a crayon nub, looking up as he came over “Oh, hey Nevin!”

“Heya Isaac.” Nightmare responded with a small smile as he set a tired Cross down… Only to pick him back up again as the other fussed a little. “Hey… Shh… It’s okay Chris, I’ve got you.”

“Thanks, Nev’… Just wanna be close…” Cross mumbled, exhausted and unhappy. He nibbled on a bit of granola bar, mostly just wanting to sleep.

“That’s okay, I’ve got you.” Nightmare answered back, voice warm and gentle. Chris relaxed a little and beamed up at him happily, snuggling a little closer to him.

Barry was sitting near him, hovering closer to Isaac and Error, worried and unsure as to what to do.

“Nevin, would you please put Christopher down for a moment?” Isaac’s mom asked, her expression neutral, but her emotions chaotic.

Crap. He suspected that he was about to get interrogated. But Nevin wondered if they would believe him if he told them the truth “I… Okay.” He put down the fussy Cross, setting him close to Isaac and made his way over to her. “Yes, ma'am?” He wasn’t normally this polite, but he figured that it wouldn’t hurt anything.

“… Do you know how they might have ended up this way? I know that you and Chris have become good friends with Isaac…” She asked, her voice kind but firm.

“I… Uh…” He glanced at her for a moment, fidgeting “… Chris told me that he, Isaac and Edward dealt with some sort of cursed doll yesterday, and that the spirit that possessed them cursed them to understand how it felt.”

“At least you’re actually talking - neither Edward nor Isaac would say a thing. They just said that they woke up and realized that they were shrinking. Didn’t know how it was happening or why it was possible. Honestly, it’s as if they don’t know that we’re aware that they have… Unusual abilities.” One of Error’s parents grumbled, rubbing their face with a hand and sighing “Thank you for telling the truth… Nevin, I believe? Even if it does sound a little out there.”

“I… Y-You… E-Edward what?” Nevin stuttered, trying to hide the fact that he was unsurprised by the fact that Error had powers… He was surprised that his parents were aware of this.

“Honestly, do you all think that we’re blind? I’ve never seen Isaac take to others so quickly - apart from Barry, who has powers of his own. I figured that you, Cross and Edward had to have powers, from the way he lights up about each of you. He has other friends, yes… But he hasn’t connected as much to them as he has to you three.” Ink’s mother responded with an amused smile. 

“Oh… Uh… I’ll.. Uhm, unless there’s anything else that you want I should… Probably head home, actually… My grandma and brother are probably going to be worried. Should’ve been home a while ago… Haha…” Nevin responded, edging slowly towards the door before running. It was cowardly, but he had no idea how to react. Experience had taught him not to trust most adults. He paused at the door, his gaze flickering between the group of genuinely concerned parents (which was so strange to sense) and his friends… And Error, tempted to snatch them up. But then one of Barry’s parents tried to grab him and Nevin ducked, throwing the other over his shoulder and running out the door, headed straight home.

#my writing #chrevinstoph #Christopher jackson #nevin jovel #Edward quinton #Isaac beamer #barry price #their parents