#little big fan fic

[thef1diary]

Little Big Blurb

— Braid Bonding

Max wants to learn how to braid his Bella’s hair

Series masterlist

wc: 1.5k

Based on this request

By now, you and Isabella had established an organized morning routine that helped avoid any problems before you dropped her off at school. You would style Isabella's hair every morning while she was eating breakfast.

There were a few days where she wanted a fancier hairstyle, but most of the time she preferred two braids. The amount of times you've braided her hair, you were certain that you could do it with your eyes closed.

However, you didn't realize that while you knew how to complete the task perfectly, Max did not.

You're standing behind her, gently brushing her long dark strands. "That tickles, mama," she giggles, tilting her head forward to escape the tickles from the bristles of the hairbrush.

You chuckled at her antics and replaced the brush with your fingers for a moment, grazing against the back of her neck to purposely tickle her.

"Maxy! save me," Isabella called out, making grabby hands at him while attempting to dodge your fingers that slid down her sides, tickling her brutally. Her laughter filled the room like a melody, brightening your smile.

Max chuckled at the playful scene unfolding before him. He watched with amusement as Isabella tried to escape your tickles, her laughter echoing through the room.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming to the rescue!" Max declared with a grin, stepping closer to join in the fun. He gently grabbed your hands, trying to stop your relentless tickling.

Isabella squirmed between the two of you, still giggling uncontrollably. "Maxy, help me! Mama's being a tickle monster!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

You and Max shared a knowing look before relenting, releasing Isabella from the tickle attack. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her laughter, before flashing you both a bright smile.

"Okay, time to finish up your hair, angel," you said, picking up the hairbrush again and gently untangling her locks. Max watched with interest as you deftly divided her hair into sections and began braiding it into two neat plaits.

As you finished braiding Isabella's hair, Max leaned in closer to observe your technique.

"Thanks, mama!" She wiggled off the chair to look at herself in the mirror. One thing about your daughter was that she needed her hair to look as close to perfect as possible. Perhaps that habit was from you as well.

"You’re welcome, Bella, now c'mon you don't want to be late," you urged her to finish her breakfast.

"Mama, I can never be late," she chuckled but you raised your eyebrow, "and why's that?"

"Because of Maxy!" She cheered before cutting another bite sized piece of the pancake she was eating.

Your gaze shifted to your boyfriend, eyeing him with judgement. "You don't speed, do you?"

He was quick to shake his head, "not at all." You turned to look at your daughter when you heard her giggle and cover her mouth to muffle it.

"Just be careful, please," you told Max, and his smile widened, walking closer towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Always. I got precious cargo in the backseat," he muttered before pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Hey!" Isabella ran towards both of you, hugging your legs with a giggle leaving her lips.

You bent over and picked her up, letting her join in on the hug. "Don't forget me, Maxy," she added. Max cradled her chin and pressed a kiss to her cheek as well.

Soon enough, Max and Isabella were out of the door, with her lunch packed, giving you some time to yourself. Filling up a mug of coffee, you chose a book for the day and cozied up on the couch.

Immersing yourself into the book, you hadn't realized when Max returned until he spoke, "what are you reading?"

Startled, you looked at him leaning over you from behind the couch, "shit, you scared me." You showed him the cover of the book, which was undoubtedly another romance novel you picked up.

"We've got to do something about your lack of awareness of your surroundings," Max commented, sitting next to you. "Shut up," you rolled your eyes playfully while smacking the novel against his arm.

You snuggled up next to him and continued to read your book. That is, until Max pulled out your hair tie and brushed his fingers through your hair. "Can you teach me?" He muttered.

"Teach you what?" You placed a bookmark on the page before placing the novel down on the table in front of you and looked at him.

"Teach me how to make braids, I want to learn for Bella." Your gaze didn't waver away from him, stunned at his thoughtful words. He squirmed in his spot, wondering if he said the wrong thing which is why he shrugged his shoulders, "if I can," he added quietly.

"Of course you can." You pressed a kiss to his cheek before standing up and getting a hairbrush and a comb.

You sat comfortably in front of him, feeling a mix of anticipation and affection. Max took a deep breath, his fingers hovering uncertainly over your hair.

"Okay, so, uh, how do we start?" Max asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You smiled reassuringly, reaching back to guide his hands into your hair. "Don't worry, baby, you'll do great. Let's start with one braid so divide my hair into three equal sections," you instructed, gently demonstrating the process as you spoke.

As Max followed your lead, you could feel the warmth of his hands against your scalp, his touch tentative yet determined. He carefully divided your hair into sections, his fingers fumbling slightly but gradually gaining confidence with each movement.

"Like this?" Max asked, looking to you for approval.

"Perfect," you replied with a smile and even though he couldn't see your face, you knew he could hear it in your tone. "Now, all you have to do is cross the sections over each other, alternating between left and right."

With your guidance, Max began braiding your hair, his movements slow and deliberate as he focused intently on each step. You could feel the gentle tug of his fingers as he weaved the strands together, his concentration palpable in the quiet of the room.

As he reached the end of the braid, Max let out a triumphant sigh, a proud smile spreading across his face. "I did it!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with accomplishment.

Once he placed a hair tie at the end, you turned to face him, your heart swelling with pride. "You did amazing, love. I'm so proud of you," you said, pecking his lips briefly.

He had a sheepish smile on his face, "can I try again?"

You chuckled, "of course, let's try two this time?" He quickly nodded, turning you around before undoing his first masterpiece.

The time flew by as Max braided your hair over and over again. You picked up your book again because he didn't need any help after the first couple of tries.

Once he practiced enough times with your hair, he believed that he was prepared to try the techniques on Isabella's hair.

The next morning, as Isabella sat at the kitchen table enjoying her breakfast, Max approached with a determined look on his face. Armed with newfound confidence from the previous day's lesson, he was ready to take on the challenge of braiding Isabella's hair himself.

"Hey there, princess, how about I do your hair today?" Max suggested, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Isabella looked up from her cereal, her eyes widening in surprise. "Really, Maxy? You're going to braid my hair?" she asked, a mixture of skepticism and anticipation in her tone.

Max glanced at you and once he received an encouraging nod, he too nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across his face. "Absolutely! I learned from the best, so I think I can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his nerves with bravado.

Isabella giggled, delighted by his eagerness. "Okay, Maxy. Let's see what you've got," she said, leaning back in her chair and offering him a playful grin.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Max picked up the hairbrush and began to carefully brush Isabella's long dark strands, just as he had seen you do countless times before. He divided her hair into two sections before dividing those into three equal sections, his hands steady as he focused intently on the task.

With each twist and turn of the braid, Max's confidence grew, his movements becoming more fluid and assured. As he reached the end of one braid, he tied it off with a small hair tie before working on the next one.

When Isabella ran towards the mirror to check her hair, Max held in his breath and only let it out in relief when she returned with a giddy smile on her face, holding two thumbs up.

"You did it! It looks so good!" She exclaimed, running back to him and knocking his breath out with a hug.

His heart beamed with pride and he smiled widely, "thank you princess."

As Isabella continued talking, now speaking of all the different hairstyles Max can learn, he looked at you, nodding his head in appreciation for teaching him a skill that brought him even closer to your daughter.

Taglist: @keerysfreckles @d3kstar @xjval @hc-dutch @the-untamed-soul @multi-fandom-fan221b @lilymurphy03 @shreks-best-tits @nessacarty1 @ldynblack @lighttsoutlewis @ur-fave-ave @namjoonswaifu @llando4norris @dark-night-sky-99 @majx00 @xoscar03 @wonnou @samantha-chicago @mlioravanfleet

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 series #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #fluff

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅

🕊️𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🕊️

summary - little red riding hood (you) heeds the villager's warnings and ends up crossing paths with the big bad wolf.

warning - smut, inter-species, degrading, dirty talk, dubcon, death, stalking, swearing, creampie, choking, slapping, fingering, biting, dacryphilia.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

All you had to do was cross through the woods to get to your grandmother’s house. That was all you had to do. It sounded easy, you ignored the warnings from the villagers, and you thought you had this handled. You get dressed in your little white dress, covering yourself with your red hood before gathering your basket of pastries and fruits. You smiled as you passed the villagers, heading through the path that entered the dark, creepy woods. You ignored their worried whispers, too focused on getting where your grandmother was. 

You giggle, smiling at all the pretty butterflies that flutter by, and you begin to hum a soft melody. Skipping along the path, not feeling the air become cold or noticing the animals that start to scatter, you are too oblivious to see how dark and creepy the woods begin to become the deeper you walk into them. Such an innocent little thing you were. Too bad the big bad wolf was going to destroy that. 

Luke lurked, spying on you from behind the shadows, licking his lips as he caught sight of your pretty little dress underneath that beaming red hood. He sneaked and crept, following behind you with caution. Luke grinned, his sharp canines prodding his lips, his glowing yellow eyes following you, preying on you. He could pounce at any moment, and you’d never expect a thing. Luke stretches his hands, feeling his claws come out slowly, desperately wanting to claw into you as he fucks you into the ground. His cock grows, hardening the more he watches you, the more Luke thinks about what he wants to do to you. His cock strains against his pants, and his swollen tip leaks with pre-cum. A growl slips from his lips, and he watches you halt, looking around slowly. 

You didn’t know what that was. Could the villagers be right? Was there an actual beast in these woods? Did you brush off their warnings when they were only caring for you? Was everyone right? Were you really the dumb little thing in their village? You couldn’t be? You were smart… You were sure of it. Your mind raced with thoughts, causing you to forget about the growl or the beast lurking in the shadows. You shrugged, wondering why you had stopped before beginning on your merry way, skipping again with a ditzy smile. Only to be stopped again, staring widely at a large man standing before you, his bright yellow eyes staring at you with hunger. 

Luke licks his lips, “What are you doing out here, little red?” He tries to make his voice as friendly as possible, not wanting to scare you away.

You smile, rocking on your heels. “I’m on my way to see my grandma! Who lives through the forest, near the lake!” You blush, taking in the handsome stranger before you notice the sun going down much faster than expected. “Oh, shoot! I’m sorry, mister! But I’m running late!” You shoot him a small smile before hurrying along. Luke’s nostrils flare as your scent enters his senses.

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at your stupidity. He smirked as a plan formed in his head, giving you one last look before he hurried through the shortcut and appeared at your grandmother’s house. What better way of getting you than pretending to be the one you love? He knocked, straightening to his seven to eight feet height, grinning wide with his pretty sharp teeth showing. The moment the poor little older woman opened the door, he pounced, swallowing her whole before heading inside, checking to see if he looked clean before Luke walked over to the bed, stripping from his clothes, giving his cock a few tugs before he got under the covers. Luke chuckled to himself, knowing you weren’t too far behind.

You skipped to her door, beaming with happiness at finally seeing her again. Your little hand knocks on the door, rocking on your heels as you wait patiently for her. “Who is it?!” You giggle.

“It’s me, grandma! Y/n!” 

Luke smirks, “Oh, how lovely! Do come in, my dear!” You smile, entering her home and placing the basket of food on the small table nearby before you untie your hood and carefully place it on the hook. You turn and slowly make your way over to her bed, wondering why her eyes are yellow instead of her standard colour, and with a worried look, you sit beside her and rest your hand on her arm above the covers.

“Grandma! Your voice sounds so odd, is something the matter?” You question, gnawing your lip as you check over her.

“Oh, I just have a touch of a cold.” Luke fakes a cough, licking his lips as he eyes you. The blanket slowly moved down to show off some of his face, silently sending thanks to the universe for making the lighting so dark.

Your brows furrow, tilting your head slightly as you notice some of your grandma’s changed features. “But grandma! What big ears you have.” You edge closer, extremely worried for your grandmother. 

“The better to hear you with, my dear.” 

“But grandma! What big yellow eyes you have….” You shiver, feeling a chill roll down your spine at the sight of them staring deep into your soul.

“The better to see you with, my dear.” Luke feels pre-cum leak from his swollen tip, soaking the flowery bedsheets. His fingers twitch. He’s so close to having you under him, tearing you apart with his massive cock. 

Your eyes slowly move down the bed, noticing the large tent forming. “But grandma! What… A big tent? You have.” Your gaze slowly moves back up and connects with his eyes, swallowing the saliva that builds up in your mouth.

Luke smirks, throwing the blanket back and wrapping a clawed hand around your delicate throat, turning and pushing you into the bed. “The better to fuck you with, my dear.” He sneers, pressing his stiff cock into your soft legs. He squeezes, staring with a dark glint as you struggle to breathe. “What a dumb little girl you are. Don’t you know that the woods aren’t safe for dumb little things like you?”

You stare at him with wide eyes, squirming as you feel something wet poking your inner thigh. “Y–You, you're the man from before….” You whimper, your eyelids flutter as his grip tightens, feeling slick pool between your thighs. 

Luke grins, his cock twitching as the smell of your arousal hits him. “Yes, I am, little red.” He leans closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Mmm, you smell delicious, little red. It seems like you want the big bad wolf.” Luke licks the side of your neck, sucking on your sweet spot as his other hand moves up your tiny dress and cups your clothed core. “Did the dumb little baby get wet from mean old me?” He growls, smiling down at you before he swipes his hand across and rips your knickers from your body. His fingers connect with your swollen button, rubbing and flicking it, watching you whither and moan, trying to break free from his grip.

“P–please, I won’t tell anyone!” You cry, swallowing your sobs. You had realised your fate was sealed and that your grandma was gone. Your plump bottom lip wobbles, staring into his sharp eyes, embarrassed that you feel some sort of way underneath the monster. “I–I’ll be good, I swear!” Fat tears fill your eyes before rolling down your puffy cheeks, whimpering as the man leans forward and licks them up. 

“Of course, you’ll be good, you dumb baby. It’s the only thing you know how to do.” Luke grows harder from your tears and your whimpers. His fingers pick up their pace before slowly piercing through your tight little hole, curling and thrusting, stretching you out and getting you ready for him. “Don’t worry, little red. I’ll take good care of you.” His thumb rubs your swollen pearl, curling his thick fingers into your sweet spot. Your back arches as pleasured whimpers fall from your lips. Your walls squeeze and pulse around his fingers, juices flowing out of you as you cum. Luke licks his lips, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt and bringing them to his lips. “Such a naughty girl, cumming for the big bad wolf like the dumb little thing you are.” A moan falls from his lips as he places his fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet nectar off them. “So delicious, little red.” He pushes you into the bed, crawling on top of you. “You ever been with a man like me before, little red? Hmm? I bet you haven’t, a sweet little innocent thing like you.” His hand wraps around his throbbing base, swiping his leaking tip against your sopping folds.

Your hands curled into the bedsheets, whimpering when he began to push in. More tears flow down from the pain of his massive cock stretching your tight walls. “H–hurts… Please.” You babble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to push through, his fingers rubbing your little clit, growling as your juices leak out and help lube his cock. Your hands fly up, digging your nails into his arms as he sends a sharp thrust deep inside you. “O–oh!” Your vision goes white, and your walls spasm around him wildly.

“Poor little red, you’re so fucking tight.” He growls, snarling down at you. His hands grip your hips, lifting your legs, so they wrap around his waist, plunging harder and deeper inside you. Luke buries his face into your neck, nipping the young flesh with his sharp canines. “You like the feel of me inside of you, little red? Stretching you, claiming you?” He slams into you, chuckling at the small scream that escapes you. Your hands move from his arms to his back, clinging desperately to him as his pace picks up, pounding you into the soft mattress. “You enjoying this, dumb baby? Being used for my pleasure? Hmm?” He growls, holding your hips tighter.

“Uh-huh!” You whine, and your hips slowly move along with his thrusts. Your legs tighten around him, feeling yourself clench around his thick, monstrous cock as he continues to pierce you with it. “S–so big… So full!” Your eyes roll back, whimpering with each thrust, feeling your mind beginning to slip as Luke’s tip slams into your sweet spot, your mouth falls open, and your body becomes numb from the pleasure. You gasp, feeling a sting on your cheek, and your eyes blink open, staring into his glowing yellow ones, noticing the glare he holds as he continues moving inside you. His hips snap, and your head falls back, exposing your neck to the beast. 

He leans forward and latches down, biting into the soft flesh and groaning as your walls flutter rapidly around him. A choked gasp escapes you, your back arches, and your vision goes white as your arousal shoots out of you, coating the giant beast. He grunts, feeling you squeeze and pulsate around him, “get ready. I’m going to fill you up with so much cum that it’ll flow out of you for a whole month, my little red.” He growls, pounding as fast and hard into you until his thrusts become sloppy, his heavy sacks begin to tighten, his cock begins to twitch and throb, and his swollen mushroom tip swells deep inside you. “Fuck, tightest little cunt on the dumbest little girl.” He roars as thick amounts of cum shoot out of him and into you, filling you to the brim, feeling it overflow out of you and onto the soft sheets. 

Your body sags into the bed, arms falling from his back and legs falling from his waist as your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you pass out. The intense pleasure became too much for someone as tiny as you. Luke huffs, waiting for his knot to soften before he can pull out of you. He looks down at your knocked-out form with a dark glint in his eyes, his clawed hand strokes your cheek, and he grins. “Oh, you poor dumb thing. You have no clue that you’re mine now, forever.” When his knot softens, he slowly pulls out and watches his cum leak from your cunt before he pushes it back in with his fingers. Luke stands, straightening to his standard height as he collects his clothes and gets dressed. He lifts your wrecked body and heaves it onto his shoulder, grabbing your red hood on the way out. 

With the slam of your granny’s door, Luke’s dark chuckle fills the creepy woods as he makes his way to his place with you in his arms. You would never be seen again, being added to the tales of the big bad wolf. You would be known as his whore, his wife and the mother of his pups.

You shouldn’t have been so dumb and listened to the villagers’ warnings.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #a whores fairytale #big bad wolf luke danes x little red riding hood reader #luke danes fanfiction #luke danes angst #luke danes fluff #luke danes gilmore girls #luke danes #luke danes x reader #luke danes fan fic #luke danes fan fiction #luke danes fanfic #luke danes fic #luke danes imagine #luke danes imagines #luke danes oneshot #luke danes one shot #luke danes au #luke danes x tiny! reader #luke danes x fem! reader #luke danes x female reader #luke danes x you

[rosepresley68]

They are together now, I'm sure of that.

"Do you think she's reunited with her father now?"

How beautifully poetic that sounds makes me very happy.

#elvis aaron presley #elvis fans #elvis history #elvis imagine #elvis music #elvis photos #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #big daddy elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvisaaronpresley #army elvis #elvis the king #elvis the pelvis #elvis movie #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fic #elvis #60s elvis #elvis fandom #Elvis and lisa #lisa marie presley #Lisa Marie Presley 🎸 #father and daughter #together forever #Lisa #The little girl of daddy #Lisa the princess

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

#god i'm exhausted #writing the latter end of a fic always feels like finishing a marathon #no more fics for like the next 6 months (<- me when i lie) #anyway big fan of the bear hallucinates darla club! #currently there's only one member (me) but you can change that #also favorite trope ever is when you see a regular dude and you're like 'what a nice normal dude' and then you talk to him for like #5 minutes and you're like '/oh./ this dude has something wrong with him' #also the tyrone/jimmy pairing? do you see my vision? #also big fan of the the shooting was worse than what you see in rr club! #it's just there was a city-wide gang war and all the gangs came to grieves to kill darla and you're telling me only she died??? #i think way more people died. i think too many people died actually. i think the school had to do remote learning for all of tyrone's sr yr #cause the renovations were too much. #also just to clarify #the is hallucination!darla and there is the darls he sees all the time. no they are not the same to him. yes he is mentally ill. #also yes!! superheroes do exist in this world!!! i just didn't mention them. #also if we're being a little self-critical for a moment #(don't look at this part) i feel like i could've ended this at a way earlier point in the story but i had such a strong vision of what the #fic was supposed to be like that i just wrote everything #anyway lets start tagging #bernard dowd #tim drake #timbern #timber #dc #red robin tyrone #red robin jimmy

[emry-stars-art]

Massarati was a courting gift to andrew from abram after he realized they were courting one another

My face reading this omggggggg

(Gonna put this up top instead of at the end; find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

So this is the 4800 words of fluff; @jtl-fics was bouncing a LOT of ideas with me about it and everything was so sweet 😭🥰 you can read it here! :D or continue on this post for the sparknotes version from Abram's pov (minus the picnic date tho 👀), and let’s showcase my inexperience with horses ✨

THIS IS GREAT I done got myself a little by making Maserati a rescue case… like Abram’s probably right about what happened to her though I didn’t fully decide on it (I’m also making up everything about horse breeds in this universe thank youuu). He’s out one day for whatever reason and comes across this horse in no pasture that’s tall, clearly made for working, but it’s far too skinny. A little skiddish, but not enough that Abram can’t approach after a while of trying. It’s a familiar breed under the dirt and malnutrition.

He doesn’t even bother seeing where it might have come from. He fashions a makeshift lasso/bridle thing from rope and takes a few hours calming the horse enough to bring it back with him to the castle, leaving it in one of the smaller/less used stables with plenty of food and water before going to find Day or someone else that might be able to help. She doesn’t look impressive at first, obviously. But with lots of help and lots of time from Abram taken in secret to the stables, she slowly starts to get better. She gains weight, she gets readjusted to people, she lets him take care of her coat and hair.

At some point, Andrew insists once again on keeping Abram nearby when Abram is having a worse night than usual. Panicking easily, generally unwell. (Andrew is also wondering why Abram is suddenly spending so much time away, why he won’t tell Andrew where he’s been or what he’s doing. It’s completely in his right to do it, so Andrew never forces the issue, but it’s such an obvious switch from his normal behavior. Right when Andrew thought he could start leaning into the courting, it feels like Abram is pulling away and it hurts a little. He gets worried.) Abram can’t sleep, and Andrew won’t sleep until Abram does, so they lay on his bed with Andrew resting against Abram’s lap, relaxing or reading or tracing scars with his fingertips. It’s a long while before Abram asks, unprompted, “Did you ever have an ideal horse?”

Andrew gives him a look.

“I mean… a dream horse. Maybe when you were little, something you always wanted.”

Andrew makes a small noise. “I think most kids do.”

“Right. So did you?”

It takes more convincing than that, lots of Abram assuring Andrew that it’s not stupid, he’s just curious. He’ll tell Andrew his next. And finally Andrew tells Abram of when he was young, living with the Spears, and would fantasize about being anywhere else. He’d take a horse as black as night so no one would see him when he ran away, a horse that was strong and fast enough to take him wherever he wanted to go. He used to imagine it would carry two, so he could take his governess with him, but that was before she left. It was all child’s play, anyway. It didn’t matter now. (Abram’s horse wasn’t so detailed, but he said if he had to pick a coat color, he was very happy with the blue roan he was given.)

So the next time Abram goes to the stable he looks at her, sees how well she’s bulking up, sees again how much larger she is than the Friesians he’s used to from Evermore. She looks even stronger than those already capable horses. When she’s healthy she can certainly carry two riders and more besides, and her endurance is like the horse equivalent of his own. Her coat is getting shiny again, sleek like black oil.

When she’s healthy and ready, Abram trains her. He again has help, of course - there are people who’s jobs it is to take care of and train the castle’s horses and it isn’t him - but she has an undeniable soft spot for Abram. They get her used to being fully decked out in nice tack and equipment and whatever else. Abram holds her steady to get shoed. The veterinarians/au equivalent make sure she stays healthy and the stable master grows more impressed with her every day. She’s not your average horse, he tells Abram. She’s smart. There’s real intelligence in those eyes.

Abram could not be happier.

By the time the twins’ birthday comes around she is ready to go. Abram spends the morning before his work begins making sure she is as sparkling as he can get her, all ready for her favorite stable hand to take her to the main stables later while Abram attends the prince at the festivities. The stable hand is going to put her in her new tack, too, the beautiful white set Abram spent a good chunk of coin to have commissioned. The horse is perfectly well mannered around people now, though only Abram and a handful others can ride her. Abram only plans his evening because he knows she lets anyone ride alongside him - if Abram deems them worthy, the horse won’t protest. It isn’t trust he ever takes lightly. He’s pretty certain she’ll end up allowing Andrew every privilege she allows Abram. He is so excited and so, so nervous for that night. She’s as perfect as she could possibly be, but Andrew has gotten Abram so many wonderful gifts. This is the first time Abram has returned the favor with such intention. Hopefully it’s good enough. (She is.)

Oh also in case you’re wondering. Andrew only needs a new horse because his beloved GS was finally retired, GS is old and now gets to spend the rest of his days in nice pastures where Andrew feeds him lots of treats 💕 every like is one sugar cube gods bless

#there’s so much hereeeeeeeee #I didn’t mean to get myself like I did #giving Abram a skinny scared little (big) probably dangerous evermore native to take care of #bring her back to her fulll potential #or even realize that potential for the first time #let her be taken care. of 😭 #I need a hug man #and I wanna hug Maserati #and gs while we’re here #oh I decided gs has a blood bay coat #he’s majestic #just a little smaller than Maserati #no thoughts of Andrew’s canon car color #only maaggie’s red crayon phone doodle #💕🙏 #fan art #my art #fan fic #my writing #royal au #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #asks #maserati

[chrisrin]

he’s doin’ the SPLITS!!

#guess who started your words destroyed my planet #thats right #this guy! #unda's flavor of dave strider is always a little different in every fic they write #and so far i'm a BIG fan of this one #this particular moment is from chapter 4 #homestuck #dave strider #hs #chris doodles

[ladytauria]

any jason headcanons you enjoy?

oh this is a fun question, thank you <3

some of these are going to be more widely accepted fanon, i think, but! ^^;

smallest robin turned largest robin. (i actually think for size it goes jason > dick > tim > damian > steph. i also like the idea that as red hood he's taller than bruce, but bruce is broader/heavier.)

ik canonically he didn't join the school's theater/drama club bc of robin commitments, but in my head he was still part of a group <3 maybe they had a city one during the summer? idk

i also think he was starting to get involved with the martha wayne foundation before he died.

alfred & he are close. ik canonically alfred tends to be a lot more victim blame-y with jason (as all of them are) but i think that entire retcon was stupid so <3

he can cook and cook well!

related: he also stress bakes. and cooks, too. also a stress cleaner. actually, just in general, i think he responds to stress with action. anything that feels "useful" or "helpful"--so feeding people, maintaining weapons/armor, cleaning up a space, etc.

very neat, and meticulous about his space. like, he might have a few things lying around that are "in use" but for the most part everything has a spot.

phobia of needles! it was worse when he was robin, but as an adult he's worked on it & learned how to manage it. however, in times of high stress it shows back up. and he's not good with any kind of unexpected need for shots.

i saw something somewhere about jason having multiple copies of books--not necessarily editions (though def that too) but like... one to put on display & one he can annotate/dog-ear/mark up/etc as h pleases. which i like a lot!

also inspired by something else--this time a piece of art, i think for something set in the batman beyond universe--but. i think he develops hearing problems, and maybe even already has? (actually; on that subject, i think he probably has tinnitus now, and maybe develops hearing loss as he gets older.) [updating with a link to the art]

good with kids. that one might just be canon xD

does a lot of volunteer work when he's not vigilante-ing. he does work with various places, but i think one of his favorites is like, storytime with kids at a library, or something.

i go back & forth between "jason is warmer" and "jason is colder" post-resurrection, and i think i like to stick with somewhere in the middle---he gives off a lot of heat, but has a harder time retaining. so even tho he feels warm to everyone else, he's still cold.

not really a headcanon, but. white streak + autopsy scar is peak jason design~

& i'll stop there bc this is getting p long!

#not on the list above but: i also like hc's about jason with body dysmorphia #anyway #that got a lot longer than i expected! i thought i'd just have a couple but i ended up with. more than that xD #thank u for asking cordy this was rly fun <3 #dcu #jason todd #jaybird #asks and answers #felinemotif #OH i'm also a big fan of jason with a little more fat over his muscles #but i think that's probs obvious from my fics lmao #batfam

[harmonictechnicality]

soooo everyone was sharing these lovely book covers while I disappeared - and I had major fomo, so here's mine xx

got a devil's haircut (in my mind)

What Happens in Suite 14V...

Passing Notes (and other tropes)

Eddie's Memory Log

(and shout out to @sparklyslug bc she was the first one I saw doing this and therefore, instigated the brainworms hehe) ✨

#steddie fic #steddie #I was going to do all six of my fics but I had already devoted way too much time into finding these lol #my back story on the cologne one is that Eddie spots it at a local drugstore #and buys it just so he can send that picture to Steve lol #steve probably makes a snarky reply about Eddie posing with it like the cover of a twilight novel #and Eddie will be like ‘oh? so my boyfriend is a big Stephanie meyers fan?’ #because he’s a little shithead like that 😂

[weltato]

y'know the sad thing about writing for a small/niche fandom? the thing you wrote doesn't get much interaction and in this economy and societal norm that means I don't get a nice hit of the happy chemicals

it's been three days since I last checked my most recent fic and the hits has gone up by like...2

kudos hasn't changed for a week :(

this is the existence I lead and I've made peace with it

(it's because I didn't tag it as rimster, isn't it?)

#bet it is #bet the rimster fans are falling on any fics with that pairing like starving ravenous beasts #meanwhile my little friend fic is flailing in the pool like that one meme #big sadge #writer grumbles #wel rambles #ao3 #writeblr #writers on tumblr #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #red dwarf #arnold rimmer #arnold j rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #dave lister #lister #rimmer #not actually #rimster #but hey. could be read that way if you want #it was written PLATONICALLY OK #i don't ship them myself #but whatever floats people's boats. i'm not here to gatekeep your ships #(i feel like this reads as SO sarcastic and i promise you i'm not)

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan Series Masterlist

A Max Verstappen x SingleMother!Reader Story

Status: complete (still updating for blurbs)

Series Summary: Your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted Max, her favourite driver. Meeting you, Max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. So of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the Dutch Grand Prix.

total wc: 33.1k

Note: feel free to request a drabble or chapter idea for this story.

#lbf fic talks -> writing process, answering asks about the story, and pretty much anything related to this fic series.

1. Little Big Fan (1.6k words)

2. Little Big Flight (1.7k words)

3. Little Big Race (2.4k words)

4. Little Big Celebration (1.6k words)

5. Little Big Surprise (3.3k words)

6. Little Big Gifts (1.9k words)

7. Little Big Movie Night (2.4k words)

8. Little Big Allergy (3.6k words)

9. Little Big Phone Calls (1.7k words)

10. Little Big Date Night (1.9k words)

11. Little Big Schooldays (2k words)

12. Little Big Relationships (2.1k words)

13. Little Big Sleepover (2k words)

14. Little Big Champion (1.9k words)

15. Little Big Aftermath (3k words)

Little Big Blurbs

Mr. Bear & Bearman

Braid Bonding

#little big fan fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 x reader #lbf fic talks

[doubledyke]

thinkin about edd today

#apparently im one of those fans that loves to torture edd #but it aint my fault his parents dont love him #i imagine eddy's mom knows hes alone a lot and invites him to join them for thanksgiving but he's like #“i have no idea what youre talking about mrs. mcgee my parents who definitely love me are home right now yes indeedy” #then he goes home to heat up his little free range turkey and whole wheat stuffing and eats alone at a big empty table #if he's feeling dangerous he might eat on the couch and watch PBS #after dinner he calls eddy who regales him with stories about fucked up relatives #and he almost considers himself lucky for not having a close-knit family #i kinda picture edd moving to pc from out of state so his extended family doesn't live close #of course his parents might get the occasional holiday off so im sure he's not alone every year but #idk i've embarrassed myself before by sharing my thoughts about edd's parents and i'm sure it won't be the last #i'd like to write a long overly dramatic fic about a day in his life that takes place in the timeline of the show #but im knee deep in angst as it is #text

[cj-marj]

How to express a cute brotherly relationship between two grown men? :3

#I wanna write a fanfic about Choso and Yuji #because of the kind of life I’m putting Yuji in he’s a little older than his canon age #however I still want to touch on his innocence and naïveté regarding human relationships #especially familial ones #but I fear the people will cringe if I wrote some 20 something year old man crying for his big brother #sooo #what to do #itadori yuji #choso and yuji #choso kamo #jjk fic #JJK #jujutsu kaisen #fan fic #y’all keep liking this post without offering any advice 💀

[wri0thesley]

#nat.txt #i don't really want to start doing colours and banners but if they perform better maybe i should? #i already find formatting fic descriptions hard fgbnkjgfbjkn #poll #my little divider is like. all i bother with. #id only use official art from the source ofc. nothing worse than an uncredited artist #or royalty free free use photos etc #im not a big fan of uncredited random manga panels just bc i get curious like. whats the manga the panels from!!!

[generic-sonic-fan]

My Soul To Keep

Summary: There’s been a close call. Rouge nearly doesn’t make it, leaving Shadow panicky and uncertain. To allay his fears, Team Dark sits down and discusses their plans for the worst case scenario. 

3913 words

Rouge comes home from the hospital three days later.

Omega’s carrying her bag, and Shadow is carrying her, helping her limp over to the couch. The baggy shirt she’s wearing covers the bandages criss-crossed over her stomach. He and Omega had spent those three days, before she got home, blaming themselves and each other. Too slow. Distracted. Extraneous variables. Stupid mistake. They’d slinged it all, at this point, gotten it out of their systems so that she didn’t have to hear the pity party. 

It doesn’t stop Shadow’s hands from shaking. 

“Set me down, riiiiiiiiiiiiiight here.” Rouge groans as she slides onto the couch cushions. “And set my stuff in the bedroom, okay, big boy?”

Omega tromps off down the hall. 

“Anything you need?” Shadow asks.

“More of the happy stuff they have at the hospital.”

“You're clear for another dose of painkillers in three hours and twelve minutes. You need water, and food, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Not hungry, but I’m not going to lose my lunch over it. Did you two eat all the twinkies while I was gone?”

“I AM INCAPABLE OF CONSUMING ORGANIC SUBSTANCES.” Omega returns from the hall. 

Shadow goes to the kitchen and fills a tall glass of water. He sets this on the end table beside her. He then retrieves a box of saltine crackers from where they've been shoved in the back of the pantry. 

“. . . not what twinkie wrappers sound like.” Rouge mumbles from the couch. 

He places the saltines beside her as well. “If you want something sweet, I can make you some tea.”

“Too hot. I’m boiling already.”

“Omega, grab an ice tray, then?”

“YOU FORGOT TO SAY THE MAGIC WORD.”

Rouge snorts. She’s trying not to laugh, but her chest shakes anyway, and she cringes as she smiles. 

“Please?” Shadow sighs.

Omega goes to the freezer. Shadow opens the tea drawer and retrieves the peach-and-ginger blend. He grabs a mug from the cupboard, fills it with water, then sticks it in the microwave. Three minutes later, the timer dings. Shadow dips the tea bag into the just-boiling water and waits. Omega returns with the ice tray and starts fishing the cubes into a water bottle. The tea bag is removed, sugar added, and the concoction poured over the ice, sealed over with a lid and straw. Shadow delivers it into Rouge’s waiting hands. 

“You’re too good for me.” She murmurs. 

“CORRECT. I AM.” Omega touts from the kitchen.

“Stop making her laugh.” Shadow says. 

It’s too late, of course. She’s already giggling between pained gasps. 

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. IF LAUGHTER COULD KILL, I WOULD ALREADY BE A COMEDIAN.”

“You’re enough of a clown for it.” Rouge says. 

Now Shadow’s laughing, too, despite himself. Rouge takes a big sip of her tea, letting out a faint “Mmmm” as she sucks it down the straw. She then reaches the cup over to the end table. Her hand slips, the cup falls. 

She jerks forward to try and catch it and now there’s little dots of red poking through her oversized shirt. 

Shadow grabs her shoulders and pushes her back against the couch cushions. He holds her down, rips her shirt open, and feels along the bandages. His fingers grow damp. He presses a firm palm down. She cries out.

“Stay still!” He screams back. 

His damn hand won’t stop shaking. She’s bleeding and he can’t stop shaking and it’s not helping and he needs to do better he needs to be better he needs to STOP SHAKING-

The world around slows. Breathe, in and out. Stop the bleeding. Apologize. Check the IV. Find a doctor onboard to rebind her wounds. 

“I’m sorry.” Shadow chokes out. “The pressure will stop the bleeding-”

“THE BLEEDING HAS CEASED. STOP APPLYING PRESSURE.”

Shadow lifts his palm. He checks her own. There’s no IV line. There’s. . .

“SLOW YOUR BREATHING. IT IS ADVISABLE THAT YOU EXCUSE YOURSELF TO YOUR ROOM TO CALM DOWN. I WILL ATTEND TO ROUGE. MY KNOWLEDGE OF DESTROYING MEATBAG ANATOMY ALSO LENDS WELL ENOUGH TO MAINTAINING IT.”

A hand on his shoulder. 

“SHE WILL BE ALRIGHT. GO.”

He stands. The world sways. His pulse is roaring in his ears and energy crackles at his fingertips. He focuses it without needing to utter the words, and with a resounding crack he’s back in his room. He falls onto the bed, curls himself under the weighted blanket, and lets the burning tears finally fall out of his eyes. 

After some amount of time shaking and sobbing like the pathetic coward he is, he sticks his head out of the blanket and listens. Omega is saying something he can’t make out. Then, Rouge’s voice, just barely audible. The walls shake with Omega’s footsteps coming down the hall. Shadow untangles himself from the blanket and sets his feet against the ground.

“ROUGE HAS INSTRUCTED ME TO ‘CHECK IN’ ON YOUR EMOTIONAL STATE.” Omega opens the door.

“How is she?”

“AS I HAVE SAID PRIOR: SHE IS ALRIGHT.”

Of course she is. Of fucking course she is. Just a tiny bit of blood and he lost his goddamn mind about it. He grabs at his quills, pulling them just hard enough to hurt. 

“WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?”

“I’m fine.”

“ROUGE SHOWED ME A MEME SHE FOUND ‘RELATABLE’ ON HER INSTAGRAM FEED TWO MONTHS AND SIX DAYS AGO. THE MEME STATED THAT ‘FINE’ STOOD FOR ‘FREAKED OUT, INSECURE, NEUROTIC, AND EMOTIONAL’. UNDER THIS DEFINITION, YOU ARE INDEED ‘FINE’.”

“Shut up! Leave me alone!”

“NOTED.”

Omega leaves. Shadow’s tempted to tear his quills all the way out, but that would leave him with a migraine, and he can’t be where he’s needed if he can hardly stand. Not that he’s much help to anyone. Not like he’d do anything other than flip out at the slightest provocation. Might as well start screaming her name around to complete the look, right?

He immediately catches that thought and curls in on himself. He whispers an apology against his fur, lips forming the shape of the name. Lips part. Teeth come together. Mouth opens, ending on the “ah”. He’s sorry he even thought to take her name in vain. She doesn't deserve it.

She didn’t deserve any of it. Neither does Rouge. He knows he’s projecting; Rouge hates it when he does that. She doesn’t say anything but he knows she hates it. 

“ROUGE IS REQUESTING TO SEE YOU.”

Omega stands in the doorway again. Shadow slides off the bed. They return to the living room.

“I’m sorry.” He says the moment his eyes hit the couch. 

“It’s okay.” Rouge replies. She’s wearing a different t-shirt now. The old one is bunched on the coffee table. It smells of ginger and peach. 

“I’ll do better next time.”

“Well, gee, it’s almost like your best friend could’ve died. I’d be more offended if this didn’t happen at some point.”

He’d been hoping this wouldn’t happen at all, but he doesn’t tell her that. The less therapy she has to give while she herself should be the one getting taken care of, the better.

“IT IS ONLY LOGICAL FOR YOUR MEATBAG BRAIN TO BE EXPERIENCING HIGH LEVELS OF STRESS IN THIS SCENARIO.”

“Not helping, Omega.” Rouge says.

“I AM FORTUNATE TO NOT EXPERIENCE SUCH STRESS. HOWEVER, IN THE DAYS PRECEDING TO NOW, MY RAGE LEVELS HAVE BEEN HEIGHTENED TO THE POINT OF MY PROCESSOR EXPERIENCING OVERHEAT WARNINGS.”

“I know. You yelled at me plenty about it.” Shadow replies.

“I RAGE. I RAGE AT THE MAN WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INJURY.” Omega slams his fists together. “I SHALL RIP HIM INTO 1,684 TINY LITTLE PIECES UPON OUR NEXT ENCOUNTER.” 

“You sure will.” Rouge murmurs. 

“AND YOU, SHADOW?”

“I’m going to start taking solo missions. Permanently”

“Don’t you dare.”

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

“You only have so much time. I’m not going to have that taken away from you.”

“FALSE. I AM A ROBOT. MY LIFESPAN IS THEORETICALLY AS INFINITE AS YOURS-”

“Shut your trap, both of you!” Rouge says. “It doesn’t matter who’s immortal and bulletproof and ‘Ultimate’ or whatever. You two aren’t so invincible either. You’re not leaving me behind.”

“I’m not-!” Shadow stops himself. “Please, Rouge.” 

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, cringing as her chest falls up and down. She shakes her head. “I get it. I know why you’re on about this so much. But I don’t know what to say other than that you can’t stop me.”

A pause. Projecting, again. He grits his teeth. He doesn't say anything.

“I’m going to get hurt. Hell, I’m going to die someday. You’re gonna have to get over that because I’m not about to stop living my life over it.”

“I know.” 

“YOU KNOW THE VAGUE CONCEPT, IN THEORY. IT MAY HELP IF WE DISCUSS MORE CONCRETE DETAILS.”

“What do you mean?” Rouge asks. 

“ROUGE, WHAT SHALL WE DO IN THE EVENT OF YOUR DEATH?”

Rouge’s eyes flick once over Shadow’s face, before puzzling in the direction of Omega. “As in, funerals, and the like?”

“CORRECT. THROUGH MY RESEARCH INTO THE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION OF MEATBAGS, I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT THERE ARE MANY WAYS TO TEND TO A BODY. SOME ARE MORE RITUALISTIC THAN OTHERS.”

“We can talk about this later.” Rouge glances back to Shadow. 

She’s begging Omega, with her eyes, to notice what she imagines are eggshells, a covert intention made obvious by her pain and fatigue. It stings a little to think that she’s so concerned with setting him off again.

“Actually,” Shadow finds a spot on the floor and sits down. “I would like to know now.”

“You sure?”

“Maria and I talked about this sometimes.” The name is still heavy in his mouth, and leaves a bitter aftertaste, but he says it with as much normality as he can muster. 

“BECAUSE OF HER TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“Makes sense.” Rouge says. 

“So. . . what do you want me to do when you are gone?” Shadow asks. 

“You���re being a little presumptuous there, hun. I’m not the only one who can catch bullets. Or burn up upon re-entry, as the case may be for some of us.”

“HA. HA. HA.” Omega vibrates up and down.

“I’m being serious! Tell me- what do you want me to do?”

“Guess I should get around to penning a will, shouldn’t I? I’m not letting my collection go to just anyone.”

“I WOULD REQUEST CUSTODY OF YOUR EXTENSIVE GEMSTONE COLLECTION.”

“Why?”

“TO SELL AND PURCHASE MORE WEAPONS WITH.”

“My point exactly.” Rouge rolls her eyes. “But besides that. . . well, I’m not going to lie, I actually have thought about this a fair amount. Shadow, Omega, I’m reserving my place on your fireplace mantle.”

“We don’t have a fireplace?”

“Not yet, silly. In the future, when you’re both rich and famous and have a house with one. I want the spot right and center. My Nan had her urn on Mama’s fireplace, but she got shoved behind pictures of the family dog. If you do that to me, I’m coming back to haunt your asses.”

“Are you sure you want your ashes kept in one place?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on you two.”

“TO ENSURE THAT I DO NOT SELL YOUR EXTENSIVE GEM COLLECTION?”

“Not just that. But to make sure you’re doing okay, you know? And so that you have something to look at and remember me by.”

“MY MEMORY BANKS, UNLIKE YOUR FEEBLE ORGANIC BRAINS, DO NOT REQUIRE SUCH JOGGING. HOWEVER. . . I UNDERSTAND THE INTENDED SENTIMENT. SURROUNDING ONESELF WITH OBJECTS THAT ARE PLEASING IS A DESIRABLE OBJECTIVE.”

“'Pleasing'? Oh please, it’s going to be absolutely lavish. I’ll put that in the will- I want my urn to be absolutely encrusted with my gems. I want to be more valuable than the Mona Lisa by the time I’m finished.”

“People will be looking to steal you, then.” Shadow says

“Which is why I picked the two most lethal people on the planet to keep me!” Rouge throws her head back as best she can, despite already having her head resting on the arm of the couch, and winks. 

“REST ASSURED, ROUGE. NOT A SINGLE FINGER WILL BE LAID UPON YOUR URN FOR AS LONG AS I FUNCTION. THIS I SWEAR.” Omega pounds a fist against his chest. 

“You two will be old fogies by that point anyway. You’ll need something to keep you on your toes.” She smiles.

“Thank you.” Shadow says. “For trusting us with this.”

“Of course. Who else could I possibly pick?”

Shadow reaches for her hand. She sees this and dangles it off the couch cushion for him to hold. He grasps her wrist, first, feeling the pulse beating inside of it. Then he slides between her fingers and presses their palms together. 

“Okay, I’m done. What about you, Omega?” Rouge looks over. 

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.”

“We just went over what happens when I kick the bucket- what about you?”

“BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME I WILL PERISH.”

“It’s a contingency.” Shadow clarifies. “Take this seriously. What would you like us to do?”

“A MORE IMPORTANT CONSIDERATION IS WHEN YOU SHOULD DECLARE ME ‘DECEASED’. I AM INORGANIC. I CAN ALWAYS BE REPAIRED.”

“And?” Rouge prods.

“. . . I WISH TO REMAIN MYSELF.” Omega eventually says. “IN THE EVENT OF PROGRAM CORRUPTION OF OVER 65%, I DESIRE TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“What, and the other 35% is somehow not worth our time?” Shadow snaps, harder than he means to. “Are you not worth getting to know again?”

“YOU CONFLATE THE CORRUPTION OF MY PROGRAMMING WITH THE LOSS OF YOUR MEMORIES. THOUGH MY KNOWLEDGE OF ORGANIC AMNESIA IS ADMITTEDLY QUITE PRIMITIVE, I CAN ASSURE YOU THE TWO ARE DIFFERENT.”

“Are they?”

“65% IS A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF FUNCTIONALITY LOST, A HIGHER MARGIN THAN I WOULD HAVE ALLOWED EVEN A FEW MONTHS AGO. IT IS DOUBTFUL, AFTER CROSSING THAT MARGIN, THAT I WILL EVER BE FUNCTIONAL AGAIN WITHOUT SIGNIFICANT REWRITES. ANY ‘REPAIRS’ GIVEN WILL BE GENERATING PROCESSES THAT HAVE NEVER EXISTED. YOU WILL BE CREATING SOMETHING NEW. I DO NOT WISH FOR A NEW PROGRAM TO USE MY FORM. I WISH TO BE DEACTIVATED.”

“It would be like. . . someone putting fake memories in your head.” Shadow whispers. Rouge’s hand grips tighter around his.

“CORRECT. DO YOU REQUIRE ANY FURTHER CLARIFICATION?”

Shadow shakes his head. 

“GOOD. MOVING ON, UPON DEACTIVATION, I DESIRE FOR MY BODY TO BE MELTED DOWN AND MY ALLOY USED TO CONSTRUCT LETHAL WEAPONS.”

“Fitting.” Rouge smiles.

“I HAVE CALCULATED THAT I WILL HAVE ENOUGH SUITABLE MATERIAL TO MAKE TWO ROCKET LAUNCHERS, SIX RIFLES, AND APPROXIMATELY EIGHT PISTOLS.”

“Any preference in caliber?” Shadow asks.

“THE MORE DESTRUCTIVE, THE BETTER.”

“I’ll ensure there’s a 50. cal somewhere in there.”

“YOU- AND ROUGE, IF APPLICABLE -WILL HAVE FIRST CHOICE OF WHAT IS PRODUCED.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Shadow says. 

“ONE MORE RULE.”

“Go for it. Shoot.” Rouge says.

“YOU MAY ONLY USE THESE WEAPONS IF YOU MEAN IT. YOU MAY ONLY KILL, INJURE, OR DESTROY WITH THESE WEAPONS. TARGET DUMMIES DO NOT COUNT.” Omega crosses his arms. 

“May I take them out to the target range to practice with them as long as I utilize them on a proper mission soon after?” Shadow says.

“I SUPPOSE THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.”

“How about for home defense?” Rouge asks. “You don’t mind if you hang from a wall most of the time, do you?”

“ALSO ACCEPTABLE. DETERRENCE COUNTS AS PROPER USE.”

“Good. Thanks, big boy. That’s a really great plan. You’ve thought about this a lot too, huh?” She says. “Glad I’m not the only one. I felt a little weird about it.”

“IT IS NOW SHADOW’S TURN TO DISCUSS HIS PLAN FOR AFTER HIS DEATH.”

“There’s no point. You two aren’t going to have to worry about it.”

“Given that you’re the only one of us who’s had a funeral already, I call bullshit.” Rouge replies.

She’s referencing the strange little event that Sonic held with all of his friends after the ARK. She’d gone. Said a few words, though she never told him what they were. What could you possibly have to say about a person that had spent only a few hours being on good terms with you? Sonic had found things to say too, apparently. Perhaps the guilt made it easy.

“I know what I want, and that’s to stay alive so that you two never have to worry about it.” Shadow replies.

“IT’S A CONTINGENCY.” Omega steps closer. “TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY.”

Shadow looks down. He lets go of Rouge’s hand. He folds his hands in his lap. He notices, upon further studying, a bit of red on his fur where there shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even washed his hands after dealing with Rouge’s wound. 

“I haven’t thought about it much.” He says.

“Okay, do you know what you don’t want, at least?”

An urn, he almost says. The idea of being confined to one place for all eternity, lingering, haunting, is. . .

“Not sure.” He replies. 

“Graveyard? Cremation? Something weird and different? Don’t tell me you’re going to donate to science.”

“Absolutely not!” His quills flare.

“NOTED. I WILL NOT PERMIT ANY SCIENTISTS TO STUDY YOUR CORPSE.” 

. . . Maria’s body had been studied, according to the records, then her existence sterilized like the rest of the ARK had been. Shadow knows, consciously, that the drop pod room is empty, but without having seen what had happened after, it is difficult to believe she isn’t still laying there. 

“Cremation.” He finally says. “I want my body destroyed.”

“So who’s shelf are you sitting on?”

“No one’s.”

“Scattered, then? Any particular location?”

He pauses. “Mount Everest.”

“Huh. Interesting. Is it okay if it’s, like, at the bottom? Or do we have to go all the way to the tippy-top?” Rouge asks.

“The top. Spread to the winds.”

“Making me work real hard for this.”

“I WILL DO IT. I AM A ROBOT; I DO NOT REQUIRE OXYGEN NOR DO I EXPERIENCE FATIGUE.”

“Thanks,” Shadow says.

“Why there?” Rouge asks.

“To make it inconvenient for you.”

Rouge rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

 “And. . . do it at night. Under the stars.” He adds.

“YOU HAVE SELECTED THE HIGHEST POINT ON THIS PLANET. YOU THEN FURTHER REQUEST TO BE SCATTERED UNDER STARS. ARE YOU SURE YOU DO NOT WANT YOUR REMAINS TO BE EJECTED INTO SPACE? DO NOT LIMIT YOURSELF. SUCH AN ARRANGEMENT IS FEASIBLE. I WILL MAKE IT SO.”

“No! That wasn’t the promise.”

It’s only when the silence sweeps over the room that he realizes what he’s said.

“. . . wish she’d picked a shorter mountain.” Rouge says. 

“We always tried to spot it from the observation deck whenever we passed over.” Shadow lets a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“CLARIFICATION REQUESTED: YOU ARE REFERRING TO MARIA, CORRECT?”

Shadow nods.

“ARE YOU REQUESTING THIS AFTER-DEATH RITUAL BECAUSE IT IS WHAT YOU TRULY WISH, OR BECAUSE IT IS SOMETHING SHE WISHED FOR HERSELF?”

His smile disappears.

“Omega.” Rouge hisses.

“SHADOW HAS EXPRESSED TO US THAT HE DOES NOT WANT TO LET HIMSELF BE DEFINED BY THE PAST. I AM ONLY AIDING IN THE PURSUIT OF THIS OBJECTIVE.” Omega speaks to her, but turns to him, staring him down.

“It’s both.” He finally responds. 

“INFORM US OF YOUR SIDE, THEN.”

“It’s that. . . I don’t want to be trapped somewhere.” He says. “No offense, Rouge.”

“None taken. Guess you’ve spent long enough in a jar already, being lusted after by powerful men. I get it. No biggie.” Rouge winks. 

Shadow glares, but he can’t hold it for long before a snicker slips out. “That’s the worst way you could’ve put it.”

“FALSE. THERE ARE WORSE WAYS. FOR EXAMPLE-”

“No thanks, we’re good!” Rouge says. 

Omega tilts his torso downwards and lets out a long-winded negative ping. Rouge laughs and manages to keep a grin on through the pain. 

“Stop making her laugh!"

“S-starting to agree with Shadow on this one.” Rouge slips out between giggles. “Ouch.”

“You should get some rest.” Shadow stands up from his spot on the ground. “It’ll help you feel better.”

“When’s the next round of pills?”

Shadow looks at the clock. It takes him too long to do the math, but he gets it eventually. “One hour, forty-one minutes.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhh.”

“ARE WE FINISHED WITH OUR PRIOR CONVERSATION?” Omega tilts back upright. 

Rouge glances between the two of them. 

“SHADOW, ARE YOU NO LONGER ‘FINE’?”

“Huh?” Rouge asks.

“‘FINE’, AS IN THE ACRONYM THAT STANDS FOR-”

“Yes, I am feeling better.”

“LIKE IT OR NOT, YOUR FEEBLE MEATBAG BRAIN IS BETTER EQUIPPED TO HANDLE CONCRETE DETAILS THAN VAGUE CONCEPTS. ILLUMINATING THIS SUBJECT HAS ALLOWED YOU TO PROCESS IT MORE EFFECTIVELY.”

“How do you know so much about my ‘meatbag brain’, anyway?” Shadow asks.

“I RESEARCH ORGANIC PSYCHOLOGY, SPECIFICALLY THE STRESS RESPONSE, TO BETTER DISABLE THE WRETCHED DOCTOR EGGMAN WITH. IT IS. . . COINCIDENTAL THAT THIS KNOWLEDGE IS USEFUL FOR OTHER SCENARIOS.”

“Mhm. Sure, hun.” Rouge says. “But thanks.”

“Thank you, Omega.” Shadow concurs. 

“YOU ARE WELCOME.” Omega steps back. He looks around the room, before his optics settle on Rouge. “DO YOU REQUIRE ANYTHING?”

“I’ll look after her.” Shadow says.

“GOOD. I AM GOING TO GO PLAY VIOLENT VIDEO GAMES NOW.”

Omega tromps down the hall and shuts the door of his room. His “shut” is a normal person’s “slam”, but given that the door’s still on its hinges, Shadow knows he’s alright. 

He looks back down at Rouge. “Is there anything you’d like?”

“More tea?”

“Hot or iced?”

“We have any ice cubes left?”

Shadow returns to the kitchen. He grabs the mug, fills it with water, and sets the microwave going. He grabs the tea bag. His eyes catch on the ice tray sitting on the counter. All the slots are filled with water now.

“I’ll run to the store. Be back before the microwave timer goes off.”

“Yeah, fuck cashiers! Steal things!” She cheers.

He makes for the door. Soon he’s skating down the streets, whizzing past cars as he scans for a generic corporate superstore. A lucky break, for once- as he comes upon a Walmart, someone’s holding the automatic doors open. He skids inside, yanks open the freezer door, grabs a bag of ice, then reverses course. 

When he steps back inside the apartment, the microwave dings. 

“Just in time. Got worried you actually decided to pay for it for a moment.” Rouge leans out from the couch. 

“If you fall off, I’m not catching you.” He sets the bag of ice on the counter.

“Sure you won’t.”

He goes to the microwave, opens it, and puts the tea bag in. Then he opens the bag of ice and fills the water bottle. He puts the rest of the bag in the fridge- he has to really shove it in there to get the door closed.

He returns, a few minutes later, to the couch with tea in hand, and passes it to her. He makes sure her fingers are looped through the handle of the cup before he lets go. She holds it. Sips it for a while. She hands it back to him. He places it on the end table. 

“Want some television?” He asks.

She nods. He grabs the remote from the television stand and powers everything on. As he hands the remote to her, Rouge reaches for his other hand.

“Hey,” She whispers as she curls her fingers over his.

She doesn’t say anything more. She doesn’t need to.

#team dark #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e123 omega #fanfiction #sth #tw panic attack #tw self loathing #Shadow is not the most reliable narrator in this one because the self-loathing is THAT strong #this one's got a more experimental narration style than I usually try #something more immediate and emotionally intimate I hope #tag this as a ship and omega will come to your house and tear you into 1684 tiny little pieces #and don't worry my beloved omega fans!! omega is a big part of this fic!! equal screentime justice for our guy!! #<- said as someone who's been disappointed by team dark fics before that barely mention him #they are ALL family here #please do enjoy!! #e-123 omega

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

slight au where team russia worked a little faster and eddie and max make it out scathed but alive, unlike vecna who finally got his comeuppance

eddie and steve have an unnamed thing in the months after eddie gets out of the hospital but without an earthquake wrecking hawkins, eyes are everywhere and rumours are hard to kill in a small town and eddie's sick of the way they're all being treated. he thinks it's all because of him, thinks it'll fix everything if he's not around, thinks steve deserves to find his wife and have his nuggets.

so eddie runs away in the middle of the night, just leaves a note for wayne with a promise to call and hitchhikes to cali with his guitar and not much more than the clothes on his back. he works hard and makes it big with his band, they win awards, sell out arenas, front magazine covers but eddie just takes it day by day. time passes without him really recognising its passing, just going from one gig to the next. another town, another state, another country. they've travelled the whole world by now and although his bandmates make a big deal out of birthday's, another trip around the sun eddie! whenever he thinks of home, everything and everyone are just as he left them.

it's the late nineties, eddie and wayne sitting on opposite ends of a phone line having their monthly catch-up when wayne casually mentions that he's going to a divorce party on the weekend. eddie laughs cos parties aren't exactly wayne's scene to start with, but eddie misses small town drama so he asks who at the plant got divorced? and wtf is a divorce party anyway?

and wayne knows he's fumbled the ball in a big way but all he can do at this point is just explain and eddie's sorry but... what?!

steve's getting a divorce! eddie's steve? eddie didn't even know he'd got married! he knows The Party are still close and that when eddie had been dragged into their weird little group, wayne had too. he knows that they keep a good eye on wayne, that he's still one of them.

and wayne was true to his word with not updating eddie on their lives because he knows if he'd heard any of it he'd've come running home immediately but wayne's getting on in years and this little bit of info just sort've slipped out.

so now, guess what? eddie's booking himself a flight because how can he miss this now that he knows it's happening?

so steve's getting drunk surrounded by all the people who love him. he and tina ended things amicably enough, she fell in love with robin and what was steve supposed to do? he could hardly blame her! tina and robin despised each other, had from the moment steve introduced them but robin was going through some work stuff and she'd needed a break. so steve had twisted her arm and she'd come to stay for a month and well, shit happens! they hadn't crossed any boundaries, robin wouldn't ever do that to him but the mother of your kids being in love with your best friend kinda puts the kibosh on your marriage.

it was dustin's idea, the party, he thinks steve needs cheering up, which he probably does because he'd had everything he'd always dreamed of and now his life's in a shambles for the second time even though he's only in his early thirties. except eddie, blast from the past, love of steve's life, took steve two solid years to get over him, steve's eddie, showing up unannounced (because gatecrashing is just eddie's way of not having to deal with all the nerves he's been feeling since he stepped into lax) kills the party.

everyone's furious! steve's drunk, thinks eddie's an hallucination but dustin takes a swing at eddie, which is sobering to say the least. hop's yelling, wants to drag eddie outside "i just wanna talk, i swear!" luckily for eddie, joyce and murray know him better than that. max is ripping him to shreds, erica's hyping her up and no-one is brave or stupid enough to get in their way.

and eddie's only just now registering that it might've been a terrible idea to just drop in on people you trauma bonded with and then abandoned over a decade ago and wayne's trying to gauge whether he needs to get his nephew the hell outta there or whether it's best to just let it play out and steve might be hammered and in a state of shock and eddie might deserve everything max is saying but he just can't stand there and let it happen.

so steve grabs eddie by the wrist and drags him outside and no-one follows because they all think it's fair that steve gets first crack at him. except steve isn't all that angry, he might be tomorrow, but right now he just tugs eddie into his chest and wraps himself tightly around him.

there's a thousand questions they both want to ask, things they definitely should be talking about but eddie just melts in the circle of steve's arms. he's forgotten why he ever left this space, where he can feel steve's heartbeat and smell the cologne that he still wears and that underlying something that's just steve. then steve squeezes him tighter and sighs so heavily it seems the whole world is on his shoulders and all eddie wants to do is drop everything and help him carry it.

"wayne let slip, huh?" steve says instead of something normal like hello.

"he didn't mean to," eddie defends even though he knows he doesn't need to. he'd seen the hug they’d shared before he'd waltzed in, even though they're all older than eddie thought possible, nothing about The Party has changed.

"sorry about your party," eddie mutters. he does feel bad for ruining their good time, he doesn't know now why he thought he could just pick up where he left off. steve just shrugs, huffs a laugh into eddie's hair

"you're a much better surprise than the strippers they’d booked for me anyway," steve admits. and eddie can't help himself he starts to laugh, it starts off with jiggling shoulders and escalates until there's tears running freely down his face. it wasn't even that funny, the absurdity of this situation isn't even that funny, it's all just... it's a lot.

"jesus h christ! i've missed you," eddie says when he's calmed down enough to speak.

"i missed you, too," steve confesses with such a raw honesty it gives eddie pause, makes him pull his head away from steve just enough to see his face.

"really?" eddie's a little awestruck but he tries to keep his voice level, he fails miserably.

"yes, really! what you thought you'd disappear and we'd all just, what? forget about you?" steve scoffs, looks into eddie's eyes, really looks and then rolls his own "oh my god! you did, didn't you? you're unbelievable, eddie munson! why'd you think the kids are so mad with you?" steve asks remarkably calm. must be a dad thing, eddie thinks because the lump in his throat prevents him from speaking, he can only shrug, "because they love you, you idiot! and you abandoned them but they still love you. dustin waited for two hours outside your indy concert before realising he was waiting outside the wrong door and that you'd already gone. poor kid was a mess for a week!" steve sighs heavily, cups eddie's face, wipes away the fresh tears falling down eddie's cheeks with his thumbs.

"you're not mad," eddie croaks almost accusatory, misery filling him because the one person he wants to love him, the one person he's never stopped loving, is holding him, yes, but thinking about it eddie would've been happier with the fury dustin had shown him because dustin's mad because he loves eddie but steve isn't mad at all.

steve smiles, tired and a little soppy, kisses eddie on the forehead and pulls him back against his chest.

"not yet, but i've no doubt in the morning i'm gonna be livid. you better still be here to see it!" and it's the first time there's been anything warning in steve's tone, it makes eddie hold him tighter.

"i'll be here," he promises. eddie's tucked so closely into steve's chest he doesn't hear his uncle approach, doesn't see the smile he and steve share over eddie's head. wayne knew eddie was safe out here with steve but The Party's getting antsy.

"time to face the music, boy," wayne can't fight his grin when eddie turns in steve's hold, like he used to when they were young and eager to head to bed and wayne would say "those dishes won't wash themselves" and eddie would huff and fuss from the confines of steve's embrace, being dramatic for the sake of it. other than a change in hairstyle and a few new lines on their faces, wayne doesn't see any difference.

eddie grins when he realises that steve is equally reluctant to let go, propping his head on eddie's shoulder and holding him close, they both make puppy dog eyes at wayne, except wayne isn't about to cave like he would with the dishes. his friends are furious but they love him and they're worried that steve's murdered eddie already.

except wayne knows there's no safer place for his boy to be. steve's spent many a night in wayne's trailer, reading through articles, watching award ceremonies, listening to the albums eddie sent to wayne. sleeping in eddie's old bed, both when eddie first left and even more so recently, not that either of them have mentioned that to the others. it's a secret exclusively for the two people in the world who love eddie munson the most.

wayne gives eddie a pointed look and eddie sighs, nods to himself, he can do this. these people love him deep down, even if they don't like him very much right now.

"ready, big boy," eddie teases waggling his eyebrows at steve, who laughs and calls him an idiot affectionately. eddie classes it as a win. steve gives him one last squeeze, reluctantly letting go as the three of them head back inside but steve's hand never quite leaving the small of eddie's back (even when dustin tearfully tackles eddie into a bearhug) might be the best thing he ever could've hoped for.

and eddie thinks that maybe, just this once, his inability to fight his impulse control might've finally worked in his favour.

#i don't know what this is #adele was on starstruck last night #someone like you inspired #this was supposed to be a funny little something something and just kinda morphed into this #i think it wrote itself #steve's divorce party #eddie's in a band #idk if it's corroded coffin #i'll leave that up to you #dustin and max are mad as hell on their big brother's behalf #dustin's also hurt that eddie left without saying goodbye doesn’t mean he doesn't love eddie to death #wayne and steve are eddie's biggest fans #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #the party #st au s4 fixit ig #aj writes

[andthebeanstalk]

You're either in the Les Mis fandom for the revolutionary twinks or the repressed old men. I am here for the old men. And so

#image description in alt text #les mis #Combferre #Coufeyrac #les miserables #jean Valjean #javert #original #the third option is liking les mis for the waterloo chapter - in which case u r colm wilkinson #i am here for jean valjean and everything else is secondary #tho ofc i am very happy that people like the friends of the ABC. i also love them. i just have trouble recalling who is who. #i read this book half a lifetime ago and idk if i will ever be able to read it again. but still i know bahorel is the big fighter #and feuilly makes fans and jollllly is a hypochondriac and i still remember everything about enjy and R bc i was feral for them at age 15 #i still love them but now in my old age (28) i long mainly for dilfs #give me a buff white-haired daddy with a big heart and bigger tits. he can kiss the dumbass cop as long as the dumbass stops being a cop #fics where javert remains in the police are a little confusing to me #vicky hugs had no idea the staying power these 12 or so twinks would have i love that for him #edit: to everyone responding to this with an explanation of who combeferre and coufeyrac are #- I love you and I appreciate you and no matter how hard I try I cannot hold on to that info longer than 7 minutes at a time